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desolateice · 8 months

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personal headcanon of mine with Johnny Lawrence(especially after reading your fic). I kinda see him as Demisexual Bi. Honestly with the movie and the cobra kai I think Johnny has sex because that was what he was taught from Kreese what being a man is suppose to be like and he never really let go of that habit. The only people he's ever been really sexually attracted to is Allie and Daniel. Because he has a deep emotional bonds with them. Even if they're not all 100% postive. Probably why the whole thing with Allie and Daniel in the karate kid so confusing. Would love to know what you think of my headcanon. But that's kinda how I see the whole mess.

Tumblr is not letting me answer this so I'm just testing something. I'll put it under the read more if it works.

I get that. I mean we don't really see Johnny moving on in the first film. There's no one on his arm except cobras and his focus seems to be Daniel. Arguably the only reason he kisses Ali is because he sees Daniel. So at that point I'd argue he kinda gave up on the trying to get her back as a girlfriend, and definitely lost any chance when he did that. Who knows what his life was like after the all-valley. Because, arguably, Cobra Kai is extended fanfiction. And there's all sorts of different scripts where Johnny was supposed to appear in the third movie, and maybe our views of who he was and everything would've changed. I mean in one version, I'm pretty sure he and Daniel became like friends much to Dutch's like fury, if I remember that old scripts summary correctly. And while I feel like I remember someone saying that they had girls around them, I don't remember anyone saying "Johnny dates __" in this script. (To be fair most of the conversation around it wasn't focused on that point.)

But when we see him in Cobra Kai and what he sort of talks about the only past love he's hung up on is Ali. He says he partied but I don't remember if he slept around or with how he sort of bolsters himself up whether that's truly believable. He got with Shannon when they both seemed to be a mess and he just became more of one after his mother died and I kinda doubt there was anyone he actually dated afterwards. In a serious way anyway.

He likes Carmen, the show tries to make that very clear, but sometimes I think they'd be better off as friends. Mostly because while I like Carmen I feel like she often gets sort of stuck in a "Johnny's girlfriend role". Which is a bummer in my opinion because I was honestly so excited when they hadn't put a label on it. Like how often does that happen? And I think she's a great influence on him because he listens and seems to respect her. But I don't like that she's like a reward to him and the creators (and who knows if it was pressure from Netflix and how they rushed that last season) wanted to tie up loose ends by what was convenient.

Sure a person can fall in love with their neighbor. Sure a person can fall in love with a single parent of their student. But it's just…too easy. Especially for a character whose last long term relationship exploded so badly and the only other person he's canonically loved is his high school sweetheart.

Which sometimes I wonder is just an extension of missing that before everything went to shit moment. Like how much of his "I only ever loved Ali" is "Damn high school was the only time I felt good about myself"?

And there's something about that though that throws me a little and that's the cobras. If the time he felt best about himself was high school, then what happened? Sure friends drift away, it happens, but I would like more clarification from the show whether or not that's actually happened. Because they kinda introduce their reunion at Tommy's side as the first time they've seen each other in a long time which is heart breaking. And I also call bull on it. Because, sure they were kids when Kreese tried to kill Johnny, but I can't believe the cobras wouldn't just drop by or check in on Johnny whenever they could. That they wouldn't have a relationship with Robby or try and steer him back onto dry land.

I think at the very least Johnny is so traumatized and depressed that he hasn't had romantic love, not really since Ali. And with Daniel I think Daniel is in a special place because he's like the one person from Johnny's past when things were good, or almost good before things went to shit, but also knows.

They both stubbornly (or at least the writers chose this) not to talk about all their past issues. Johnny and Kreese, Johnny vs Silver, Daniel and Silver. And I think to an extent, when they both calm down get each other. Understand. They've both lost important people. They both are grieving. They both had rough times. But Daniel had people to lean on and a good support system, whereas Johnny's seems to have cracked out from under him or he pushed his away.

Until he falls into Mr. Miyagi's footsteps. Until Miguel gets some life to spark again. And then because there's people listening to him and talking to him he's opening up and maybe realizing the shit he's gone through wasn't right. Because part of me thinks that Johnny's never like realized all of that was fucked up. Like on some level he knows but he probably also hasn't talked about a lot of it until he's had students and watches it all backfire that he realizes well shit, this isn't right. And I think those students of his are such a key development point for him.

And such a great starting point. Because who knows maybe Johnny doesn't know what bi means. Maybe he doesn't know it's an option because he's not online and he doesn't meet people really. His job after all was work alone in peoples houses, go home alone, go to the local convenience store for his beer and that's like it. He's super solitary. I doubt he even watches the news. He probably watches old movie channels or just those same vhs's over and over again and he's like a hermit almost whose unaware that life has passed him by and out of touch with all the fads because that requires effort and human interaction which he has like no energy for.

But those kids of his bring life to him. Bring people and language and new things into his world. For a cliche, color to his grayscale. So maybe he realizes all his action flicks and love for specific action heros and their abs for days might not be just a normal appreciation of the male physique but that if he stops to think about it attractions and one of those labels might fit. But I also kinda like the idea that he knows. And that it's just not anyone's business, or it hasn't come up. Or maybe he's just so used to an era where people didn't talk about it or didn't feel safe so it's a shock if he does bring it up because no one thought he was that self aware. Because he did party, he did dance, he modeled (arguably) once upon a time which if you're close enough to the arts I feel like back then you'd be somewhat aware.

I mean he may have tried it. Right time, right place. But it's not, love. Romantic love and what not. And his self worth seems to have not come back for decades until cobra kai again. So while I don't doubt he's got platonic and familial love all frayed like a worn blanket he's lugged around for decades, I don't think he had any good role models for love. I don't think he knows how to express it well. I think what he had with Shannon was a mess. But I don't doubt that he cares for Robby. That he loves Robby even if he's a sucky parent. I think he doesn't know how to be a parent. And Miguel gets to play safe test child because that's not Johnny's kid, it's his student and he's got a real parent to guide him through life and course correct and do all the hard stuff.

But I don't think he viewed Sid and Laura's relationship as like something to go for. I mean when Shannon tells him that Silver's been creeping around with his money in Robby's life, I think that's a case of something both Johnny and her had agreed on, which was that a relationship with a rich person was probably manipulative and required more hoops and clauses then they expected. And it's said in an offhand way but also in a way like they both know. And I kinda wonder if that was their starting point, their common ground. Both kids from messed up houses where the balance was off because their step parents was a rich asshole.

Daniel meanwhile has an outpouring of love role models to draw upon. His parents. Mr. Miyagi. I'm sure his extended family. And his own life. So he knows what love is. While I think Johnny doesn't have the best idea. So I think Johnny finds Daniel to be this interesting person who clearly knows what love is, who knows him, who knows arguably what happened to him, though I'm not sure if they ever actually talk about it, or just hint about it. Because we, the audience know Daniel saw Johnny choked, but we don't know if Johnny knows Daniel saw or if he just assumes Mr. Miyagi told him or if he assumes Daniel is talking about something else whenever he talks about Kreese.

And I think they both have all this history they didn't get a chance to talk about, partially because of that abrupt jump in the films. Opens on after the all valley and Johnny nearly dying and then huge mood change to Mr. Miyagi's after prom. But I like to think Johnny on a level respects Daniel but is still trying to figure it out. They both are. Daniel who has never seemed to have male friends in his life, and Johnny whose never really had an lot of love and who really has maybe had 3 partners canonically max. Ali, Shannon, and Carmen. And yet he spends more time thinking about Daniel then actually able to get together with Carmen. (To the point I will continue to cry foul on how on earth the baby happened but that's a different point and I blame Netflix rushing things on that)

So yeah I think Johnny probably says he's more of a sexual person then he actually is due to what he perceives he's supposed to be and a large part of that is probably Kreese. I think maybe he has had other partners but it's definitely not been long term and who knows if it's actually what he wanted or if he just felt like it was what he was supposed to do and I do think at the very least he's attracted to guys. And what he's actually attracted to I don't know what I officially would categorize him as, bi because of Ali, or gay and stuck in a closet because he didn't think he could be gay or if he refuses to do any self discovery because he dated Ali.

I don't doubt he loved Ali, but whether or not he felt pressured to have a relationship with her and her being the only woman he's ever really loved, well, like before I don't know if that's him truly loving her romantically and sexually or if it's missing his youth and rose tinted glasses. And I don't think he's been in love much and that he's still figuring it out. But I do think he is attracted to guys and is still figuring that out too. Which is fine because it can all be fluid and it can all change, and he just might not know or realize that or who knows he might. He might be like hmm as a teen I liked Ali so I was straight and now I kinda like Daniel so maybe I'm gay, or maybe I'm bi. Or he could be just like shoving it down into a box in his head and not dealing with it. All of which are fun to explore in fics. So I feel like it depends and yes. This is a long way to go about saying essentially yeah.🤣

#asks #wow tumblr wow #so I couldn't answer it fully as it was #I had to just write one line #publish it and then edit it and then it allowed the rest of it #long posts

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millennialgrandma · 1 year

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15 Questions/15 People

Rules: answer these 15 questions and tag 15 people

Thanks for the tag, @schmem14! This seems like an excellent way to put off the last few tasks of my work day 🙃

Are you named after anyone? Nope! My name has no familial significance. My parents just liked the names together.

When was the last time you cried? Two nights ago when I finally watched the third season of Derry Girls - those last two episodes took me the fuck out. WAIT. This is actually a lie. I cried last night watching Vir Das' covid comedy special on Netflix.

Do you have kids? No, but I have no shortage of little humans in my life that leave their smudgy little fingerprints on my heart 💗

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Honestly, yes. Though incrementally less as the years pass.

What's the first thing you notice about people? Oooohhh this is a thinker. Now I'm going "oh my god, when was the last time we saw people? Do we? See people?" 😂😂 I'm thinking back to a meeting I had a couple days ago, and I'd say the first thing I noticed when I walked in the room was what color of clothing people were wearing (there was an inexplicable amount of red in that room). This makes it easier to find them again after the initial noticing 😆 I'd say this is typically followed by their facial expressions/mood, so that I can vary my approach to how I interact to put the other person most at ease.

What's your eye color? Listen, this is actually a very big point of contention for me. At first glance, they appear brown. Just regular, run-of-the-mill brown. But CLOSE UP and IN THE LIGHT it becomes evident that around my pupil is a ring of honeyed brown, and then a lighter golden green, and then a darker green around the outside. The point is, there is GREEN in my eyes, and my entire family has been playing a game the last decade where they refuse to acknowledge the existence of any bit of green in my eyes and they are EVIL FOR IT.

Scary movies or happy endings? Give me a happy ending, but make me suffer so hard for it. I categorically do not like to be scared. That being said, I once went to a showing of Jaws where you float in tubes on a giant lake at night with the movie projected on a screen on the shore. Legs dangling, not touching the bottom, in the dark while watching a shark movie. There is only one explanation for the decisions that led me to that moment and that explanation is demon possession.

Any special talents? Yes, and that is my ability to make a disaster out of literally every kitchen I've ever set foot in. If I make something, I also make a mess. Those are the rules.

Where were you born? In the heart of the U.S. Midwest.

What are your hobbies? Does collecting hobbies count as a hobby? I'm actually so good at getting really interested in something, going balls to the wall, and then losing interest for 6-72 business months because something else caught my attention (see knitting, creative journaling, paper crafts). Reading is the one constant, and I guess writing belongs on this list now.

Do you have any pets? I like other people's pets, but I just don't think I'm a pet person myself, you know? We never had inside pets growing up. And I travel for work, so it doesn't really seem practical.

What sports do you play/have you played? I'm far more creatively than athletically inclined. Growing up I played softball and volleyball. I was a social tennis player (read: ya girl was Not Good™️). But I was more of a band/choir/theater/speech kid, and carried the choir and theater aspects forward into college.

How tall are you? I am 5 ft + 4.75 inches (or about 164.5 cm). Shortest one in my family. The only reason my mom and I are the same height now is because she started shrinking.

Favorite subject in school? Honestly, I loved every subject. I just loved to learn. Even in college, I don't think I could give an answer. I loved taking history courses. And I loved my finance and accounting courses because I adore financial analysis.

Dream job? I'm living it: a job where I get to interact with coworkers and the public; where I get to constantly learn new things; where assignments and teammates rotate; where I can apply for special assignments; that pays me a comfortable salary; that has great health and fringe benefits; that keeps me from getting bored.

Tagging 15 people feels exhausting, so let's go with a smaller multiple of 5 and say 10. Please feel free to ignore or participate as you are able (or please join in if you'd like to and weren't tagged): @akorah @eveningstruggle @whimsymanaged @echoesofmyfootsteps @juls99 @roseharpermaxwell @pia-bartolini @petalsfordraco @they-call-me-megs @sunlightdaydream

#tag game #get to know me

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ojcobsessed · 2 years

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From a struggling addict in ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ to the guy in ‘The Invisible Man’ who tormented Elisabeth Moss, Oliver Jackson-Cohen’s roles the past few years have been mostly deeply flawed people.

Hey, casting agents, listen up. Oliver Jackson-Cohen is interested in lighter roles. That doesn't mean he hasn't enjoyed the darker, sometimes scarier fare he's mostly appeared in throughout the past few years — but his mother says he needs a break.

Mom's commentary came last year when Jackson-Cohen arrived in Vancouver to film the new series “Surface ” now streaming weekly on Apple TV+. She said to him, “'You're not going to play one of your sad boys, are you?'

"I went, ‘What?’ She said, 'You're always (expletive) sad. Do something light that I can go and enjoy watching,'" Jackson-Cohen laughed. “So that sort of stuck with me."

It's been a busy few years. Jackson-Cohen's recent career highlights include Netflix's “The Haunting of Hill House” series and its follow-up “The Haunting of Bly Manor." He also terrorized Elisabeth Moss in “The Invisible Man ” and played Dakota Johnson's controlling husband in “The Lost Daughter.” He did get a respite, however, in this summer's rom-com “Mr. Malcom's List," an experience he describes as “a joyful romp.”

In “Surface,” Jackson-Cohen stars opposite Gugu Mbatha-Raw as James, a husband desperately trying to keep the pretenses of a happy marriage afloat after an accident caused his wife, Sophie (Mbatha-Raw), to lose her long-term memory. The more James tries to masquerade past problems, the more suspicious and distant Sophie becomes.

“There’s something so interesting when someone’s sitting on a bunch of secrets,” he said. "That creates so much tension, and if you’re not allowed to say certain things and you’re holding so much back, it can be read in a multitude of different ways. Hopefully it’s worked and it does come across as overprotective or controlling or whatever it is — or, sinister. But hopefully, you know, as the show goes on and the layers are sort of peeled, you realize what is all underneath that.”

Veronica Webb [sic], the creator and showrunner of “Surface," says it's the balance of mystique and likeability that makes “something super special about Olly's performance" in the series.

“He’s got an intensity that can feel very dangerous, but also extremely charismatic and magnetic and draw you in. I remember the first time we got to meet in person. There was a song playing and he started doing a little shoulder dance and I was like, ‘That is the most goofy, charming thing on earth.’ And we ended up writing it (in a scene,) he seems a little bit menacing in the subtext, but also has this immense charm to him. I think that’s the duality of James.”

Jackson-Cohen says he finds that playing flawed people is therapeutic.

“I don’t know what it says about me, but I’m drawn to the pain that’s in people. I find the release of that incredibly comforting, which sounds so messed up. It really does feel like an outlet which sounds like a complete and utter actor."

For now, Jackson-Cohen is back in Vancouver filming a series for Prime Video called “Wilderness” opposite Jenna Coleman, which he describes as “not lighthearted at all.” Next up, he's hoping there will be another season of “Surface" which he enjoys, in part, because he's known Mbatha-Raw for years.

“I did one of my first ever jobs with Gugu when I was 19. We did like an episode of some very questionable BBC thing, We've known each other since then, and she's such a wonderful human being."

#oliver jackson-cohen #oliver jackson cohen #betty jackson #gugu mbatha-raw #gugu mbatha raw #surface #wilderness tv #james ellis #lord cassidy #mr. malcolm's list #interviews

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taohs · 2 months

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I can't remember if you or I ever replied to our last message? Doesn't matter. I can only remember parts of our last conversation before you went back to school. Wait.. Was it school? I'm not remembering many things lately. My mind is so scattered that I can't remember anything.

I don't care if a story is cliche or not. The story could be traditional, or untraditional, maybe somewhere in between. If the artwork and plots are interesting to me, I'll enjoy the story. But that's just how I am.

And Yuto Sano's artwork has a unique style that is very recognizable.

Yeah.. They're xNTJs. I have my fair share of favorite characters that's also xNTJ personality types too. Do you know your assessments? You might've told me before, I can't remember. I haven't been thinking too much lately. Were you an INFJ? What are your personality types?

Anyway.

Honestly? My mental health, the depression, is coming and going for some time. But I've been depressed lately because one of my favorite musicians died, he died on April 15th, he was a musician whose band I grew up with. So there is a part of me who is still after many weeks.

And if that was not already depression enough, there's also two other bands I listen kinda disbanded. Bands disbanded, musicians died just within barely five months; while in those five months, there's so many bands and musicians I listen to that have releasing lots of new music.

So my mental health is up and down these last few months.

Oh! I don't watch the show Queen Of Tears. But I have seen clips from one episode.. Song Joongki came back as Vincenzo in a n episode, as a cameo character. So it's interesting to me. Vincenzo season two?!

I have many new seasons of shows to look forward to.. And not a new show, but I've just been rewatching Black Sails since they added it on Netflix. Watch it! There's positive queer representation in the series.

Besides that. Now that Song Kang went to the military, I've was really bing watching a lot of his shows too. The final season of Sweet Home will be released in the summer. Many new seasons releases this year.

Have you watched Parasyte? The Korean show based off the manga. I think the show was okay. The show was different than what I thought was gonna happen though, somewhat similar concept to the original.

Hm.

I know that I sound like a mess. My mind's completely scattered now.

- 💋

yeah sadly i think our convo ended for a while after i went back to work (im a teacher so you’re technically not wrong that i went back to school haha). it’s nearing the end of the school year again so it’s been crazily busy as always, but im looking forward to summer vacation :)

i don't remember if i've mentioned my personality type before, but you got it right! i am INFJ if you did happen to just guess it would shock me. it’s been a while since i took the personality test so i wonder if it would have changed

ahh im sorry to hear that! which musician was it that passed? i hope your health improve these coming days, take care of yourself 💓

i’ll check out black sails! im always on the lookout for good queer representation, so thank you for the recommendations 🥰 i haven’t watched parasyte, but i know a little bit of what it’s about. i think i will eventually watch the anime when i catch up with everything else i have to finish lol. right now i’m hooked on bleach and dungeon meshi, so i plan on finishing those ones first!

#answered #💋 anon

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1kook · 3 years

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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a-jynx · 3 years

Text

Dream; - usually really aware when you guys plan date nights! Even with his busy schedule, he’s on top of remembering important nights - he doesn’t want you to feel neglected or forgotten :’) - however he can get forgetful when he’s playing with Sap and George, or streaming, but when he does oh, he feels devastated and will definitely become clingy

[Short imagine]

12:30 PM - he’d forgotten. You sighed, closing your phone and slouching into the couch, listening to your boyfriend’s laughs echo throughout your shared home; Sapnap’s screams filtering through as well.

Frowning, you turned on the living room TV and turned on Netflix, deciding that a movie would take away from the small sting in your gut. You knew he hadn’t meant to get sucked up into his work, and this one time of a few that he’d forgotten, but that doesn’t stop the sadness twisting in your gut. Turning on the Twilight series, and obviously horrible but entertaining favorite [team Jacob anyone?] before grabbing your warmed-up Panda Express and engrossing yourself into the world of vampires and werewolves.

2:45 AM

Dream groaned as his screen flashed a dull red, congratulating George and Sap about their win from their Minecraft Manhunt; 2 hunters. Glancing at the time, he rubbed at his face and clicked out of everything, ending his video. Stretching he leaned back and glanced towards the bed, expecting you to already be cuddled up and passed out, but the comfy queen was empty…

Furrowing his brows, he scooted his chair back and left his room, moving downstairs as Sap came out of his room, still grinning.

“Hey man, nice hunt, though I’m surprised you made it go for so long,” Sap groaned as he joined Dream on the stairwell making the dirty blonde frown.

“What’re you talking about? Manhunts always go for a couple of hours?” Dream snorted as Sap frowned, only to sigh and pat his friend on the shoulder.

“Dude… You had date night tonight..?”

Dream’s eyes widened as he rushed further downstairs, turning into the living room and frowning at the sight. You curled up into the corner, an empty container on the coffee table and the credits rolling of The Twilight Saga; new moon. Squatting down next to you, he gently cradled your cheek as you hummed in sleep, cracking open your eyes as you broke into a smile, your eyes settling on your frowning boyfriend.

“Hiya handsome,”

“Hi, baby… Fuck, I’m so sorry I forgot,” Dream leaned into you, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, nose, chin, lips - anywhere his lips could reach as you chuckled, raising your hand and threading it through his hair. “I just got so lost in the video, but that’s no excuse I promise I’ll make it up to you-”

“Dream, babe it’s okay, this is like… The first time you’ve forgotten, just don’t make it a full-time thing, yeah?” You laughed as Dream dove into you, circling your waist with his arms and picking you up, causing you to yell out.

“Clay!”

“We’re going to bed, and I’m not letting you go until I see fit,” Dream stated, carrying you upstairs as you glanced to Sapnap, waving to him before you and your still disappointed boyfriend disappeared into his room.

Sapnap - he’s definitely more forgetful than Dream, but he tries okay? - a lot more clingy when he realizes what he did, definitely becomes more of a hopeless romantic

[Short imagine]

“Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” You turned away from the fridge, seeing Dream entering from the living room as you shrugged, closing it with a sigh.

“Yeah, we should’ve left half an hour ago but he joined Karl’s stream… Again.” You mumbled the last bit as Dream frowned, leaning against the cabinets as you messed with the strings of your boyfriends’ basketball shorts.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

“Honestly? Probably not, I mean we’ve already had a talk about if he forgets-” you paused when a sudden crash came from upstairs, causing you and Dream to turn towards the stairs as Sap came barreling down. You blinked as he stood in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his face into the crook of your neck, making you giggle.

“Hi, bubs,”

“I’msorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimhorribleicantbelieveiforgotimsosososorry-” Sap mumbled into your skin, as you reached up, ruffling his hair as he pressed kisses along your neck, going along your shoulder before trailing back up and pressing his lips against your chin before settling back between your shoulder and throat.

Dream snickered from next to you guys as he dug into the fridge, digging out some pizza from lunch as Sap looked up and glared at his friend. “So, what reminded you?” The dirty blonde hummed, getting ready for his dinner as your brunette boyfriend scoffed.

“I obviously reminded myself! I’m not that-” he paused as a chime came from his shorts’ pocket causing him to cringe. Furrowing your brows, you reached in and tugged out his phone, breaking into a smile as you realized it was an alarm.

‘ Date Night Idiot!’ had been going off for an hour, you assuming Sap had snoozed it, not realizing why his alarm was going off.

“Dumb.. Okay! I had to set a few reminders,” Sap mumbled, pressing more kisses to your warmed skin, trying to hide away from his embarrassment. You closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket before grabbing his hand and tugging him upstairs with you, his head hung low as you went into his room, besides a small light from his screen. You jumped onto his bed, opening your arms as Sap shot you a small grin and dove into you, cuddling into your chest and pressing more kisses to your free skin, his hand sneaking up your shirt just resting against your skin, rubbing his thumb across your navel while smiling into your kiss.

“I know I’m extremely forgetful when it comes to romantic stuff, but please always know that I love you even if I have a shitty way of showing it,” he mumbled against your lips, moving his hand from your stomach to your face, holding your cheek as you stared at each other. Sure, you could be upset at him, you could ignore him, maybe argue… But why miss out on warm cuddles and make-up kisses?

Karl - he’s the one who usually makes the dates up! He always tries to make sure his streams and recording don’t overlap the days you agreed on - but who says you always remember?

[Short imagine]

It was the long-awaited shock & facecam stream! You had promised to follow in your friend’s - George, Sap, and Dream’s - steps in a shock stream and even threw in a facecam if your followers had gotten one of your posts to hit one million likes, and your fans did not disappoint! Your tweet promising this stream had hit two million likes, 10,506 retweets, and continuous replies. So, here you were, setting up for your stream when Karl walked in…

“Sweetness..? What’re you, uh, what’re you doing..?” He nervously giggled as he stood beside you, his hands nervously tugging on your hoodie as you turned towards him, frowning.

“I’m getting ready for the shock stream? Remember? I planned this a couple months ago and we agreed on today?” You blinked at your boyfriend. You both had talked about this stream since you arranged the day - why is it suddenly a problem?

“Oh, well, remember we agreed that today - tonight - was going to be date night? We were gonna watch some of the new season of Survivor?” Karl hummed as you blinked, turning fully towards him with your eyes wide as you glanced towards your starting soon screen. You could feel your heart plummet into your stomach - you had done the one thing you and Karl agreed to never do, yet here you were..

“Baby, oh my god, I’m- holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you murmured, rubbing your face as Karl shot you a small grin, scooting closer and musing your hair as you leaned into his touch, cradling your own face with dread coursing through you.

“Bubs, it’s okay, I know you’ve been planning this, and I should’ve thought ahead-”

“No!” You burst, gripping his wrist and pressing light kisses to it before groaning against his skin. “No, it’s not okay, we always try and plan for us to have date nights between our busy schedules and it’s such an asshole thing for me to not double-check that it was-” Karl leaned down, quieting you with pressing his lips to yours. You melted into it as he turned your chair to face him more, causing him to grip your hands tightly in his before pulling away.

“It’s okay because I want you to go through with this stream! You’ve been excited about it and I know the guys are wanting to join, besides-” he paused, pressing butterfly-like kisses to your hands as you grinned at your boyfriend.

“Date night can be any night for us,”

“So, what I’m hearing is you love me more than Survivor?” You giggled as Karl furrowed his brows and scoffed, dropping your hands dramatically before pulling his gaming chair next to yours as you began to set up your facecams’ final touches.

“I love you, like a lot, but know your boundaries, Bubs,” Karl scoffed as you rolled your eyes, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and clicking through your screens before popping up on your stream with a ‘Hey guys!’

~~~

helloooo~ long time no writing and im so sorry about that - life has gotten a little crazy and I sort of lost motivation to write a lot again. i hope these headcanons and my future idea for some can hold you over until I have some sort of - lack of better word - motivation :'D

until tomorrow, i hope you have a beautiful day ~ J

#dream smp x reader #dream smp hc #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #karl jacobs x reader #dsmp x reader #dreamwastaken hcs #sapnap hcs #karl jacobs hcs #mcyt hc #mcyt x reader

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Text

Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there...

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One)

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming. It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good. He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body. He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him. He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away. He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.

And then his alarm goes off.

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock. He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex. Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college? But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off. He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed. He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage. They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things. And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly. The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age. Maybe he should call a doctor. He laughs to himself. Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom. In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes. Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket. Two seconds, it takes. Is that really so hard?

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again. It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more. Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed. His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower. It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in. Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky. He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it. Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him. Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart. He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life. Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down. But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough. He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own. Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand. The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him. He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed. He’s been too pent up lately. Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers). Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time. But those have faded away over the past year or so. Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs. “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite. A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor. Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy. “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says. Maybe it’s not. It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable. His husband is home -- he should be happy. Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch. They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people. “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight. But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent. He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says. “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks. Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table. Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag. “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face. He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though. “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips. “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer. Shouldn’t be more than a week.”

“Ah.”

Sean taps his fingers on the table. Blaine sips from his water bottle. There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.

“Great,” Blaine says. “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him. He feels like they should talk about something. What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out? Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went. Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it. Nothing really feels like a good conversation.

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers. “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk. “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”

Blaine laughs into his water. “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement. “Shame I missed that show. If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug. “I’ve got some errands to run. Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”

“We’ll see,” Sean says. “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight. There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine. It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him. He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo. He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve. He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class. But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.

He finishes off the sandwich without a word. It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat. He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope. “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”

Blaine takes it with interest. He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni. But something from McKinley? That just seems weird. It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion. He has no idea what it could possibly be.

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it. “My old glee club teacher is retiring. He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate. Cute.”

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table. “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying. “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing. That is, unless you’d like me to go.”

Blaine stares hard at the paper. It’s not like he couldn’t go. He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend. In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem. “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says. “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers. Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air. There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while. Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up. The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race. The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes. “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again. Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park. Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip. Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives. She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly. Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much. Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs. Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries. She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news. “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back. The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.

Santana nods. “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct. Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down. With no bra. She had on no bra. I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases. They begin to walk down their usual path. They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues. Blaine arches an eyebrow at her. “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted. Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me. I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her. And play with her tits. I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman. “Or, you know, find out her name.”

Santana looks at him sharply. He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions. “Her name is Liz. I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly. “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you. You’re trailing me by nearly a foot. Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it. He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day. “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.” He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.

She gives him a concerned look. “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits. They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park. “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking. “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning. I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks. They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them. “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated. “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that. She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park. But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing. She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns. “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp. “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy. And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy. He loves his job. He loves his little apartment. He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world. He and Sean are… “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?” He begins to walk again. He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana. But she rolls with it.

“He’s retiring? Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh. “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says. “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail. Who sends invitations through the mail these days? Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks. He’s been back and forth on the idea all day. Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again? Possibly? Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely. Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over. “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations. Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there. Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college. He does remember Funny Girl. “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air. “You keep in touch with everyone, right? Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk. “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .” Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school. At least on a regular basis. For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says. She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce. It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head. “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly. Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says. “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own. He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues. “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds. “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life. She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio. Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina. “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons. What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to. Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut. You know she’s already taken a new lover ? She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies. I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers. Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor. Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again. Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend. He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods. They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children. Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world. “Goddess among women. We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.” Santana laughs at her own comments. “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively. He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away. “No,” she says simply. “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.” A fond smile climbs on her lips. “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back. I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent. And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.” She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects. For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart. Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students. And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation. Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs. “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened. But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt. (God, he remembers all of Kurt.) He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt. There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel. A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction. And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.

And yet he did.

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like. Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now. But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name. Funny how things can change. Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it. The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that. Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise. “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something. But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile. He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there. He hasn’t thought about him so long. But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way. “I think we should do it. Go back. I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head. “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other. Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom. They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping. She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties. They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs. The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night. He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow. But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport. Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him. Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday. He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there. He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same. The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points. Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school. It’s a bit surreal.

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar. Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake. He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket. He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm. He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance. God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you. Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice. Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

#s.o. writes things #head over feet #klaine #klaine fic #it's the older klaine reunion fic!#i'm loving writing this one

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andilovetowrite · 3 years

Text

Tough Love (Part 2)

Peter Parker x Enemy!Reader

Summary: Peter Parker and I have always had a tense relationship, but there was always a line that you wouldn’t pass. What happens when one day you do, and there are horrible repercussions? Will you and Peter make up, or will it be an endgame for you?

Warnings: A bit of angst, and fighting, but a lot of fluff in the end.

Here is the request it is based on!

Here is my Masterlist as well, in case you wanna check out my fanfics :)

Word Count: 1.7k

“Are you really going to ignore me forever?”, you asked Peter, buckling up your seatbelt. It had been a week after your flight, and you two hadn’t said a word to each other. You had tried to apologize several times, but it was hard when Peter skipped school just to avoid you, and while training, he made sure to stay out of your radius.

So you didn’t really have a wide variety of ways to say sorry to him. There were no insults thrown at each other, no teasing and definitely no normal conversations. Even now, Peter just looked away, his jaw clenched shut at the question you asked. Sighing, you turned away, focusing on the floor rather than Nat’s questioning eyes. Everyone in the compound could see something had happened. Usually, your dad had to separate you two from biting each other’s heads off, with the rest of the team cheering either one on. But this week? It had been pitch silence at the compound.

You could pretend you didn’t care, but you did. A lot. When MJ had called you up after the fight, you had been a mess. And maybe, just maybe, it was because you wanted the conversation in the closet to go well. “Well” in a way that you finally told Peter you liked him, and hopefully, he reciprocated it. But the cards were definitely not in your favour, because the day ended with him storming out, and leaving a red-faced, teary-eyed mess behind.

“Okay team, here is how it’s going to go”, Tony said from the front of the jet, looking back at the 4 of us. “Nat and Steve, you two work on getting rid of all the guards inside the place, and I will patrol the outside. Once all the threats are taken out, Y/N and Peter can get in easily and retrieve the Hydra files. It should be easy enough-”

“No”, Peter muttered, looking up, his eyes dark. “I’ll stay with Steve. Nat can go with her”, he said, jerking his head towards you. You could feel your throat close up, as you took a deep breath, opting not to say anything. The entire jet went quiet, all the eyes on you. Not knowing what to say, you just nodded, not taking your eyes off the floor.

Instantly, Peter felt bad. He knew you were trying to make amends, but to what? Just so you could go back to fighting 24/7 every day? He didn’t want that, not in a billion years. So he just shut you down or ignored you anytime you spoke to him. It was better than getting his heart broken again anyway. But now looking at you, head down, biting your lip, he almost felt like reaching out to you, but the plane lurched forward, indicating you guys had landed.

“Alright team, let’s do this”, Tony said, looking hard at you. “And remember safety first. This isn’t a hard mission, so we can be in and out in 15 minutes”

At least that’s what he thought. When Steve and Peter went out to get rid of the soldiers, they were immediately outnumbered, by a lot. Calling in Nat, the four of them kept fighting, giving you a straight passageway to the secret room.

“Y/N, you alright sweetie?”, Tony asked, grunting as he got hit again. You said yes, ducking away from a guy’s view, pushing him out of a window with your powers.

“Yeah, no one is here”, you said, pushing your way into the room, the files just lying there on the table. “But it seems too easy-”, you began, but the minute you touched the paper, the room exploded.

Bright, hot heat clouded your vision as you were thrown back, your suit feeling like it was on fire. Trying to move away, the last thing you could remember was Peter’s voice in your ear, crying out as your eyes closed, giving in to the sticky darkness that swallowed you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y/Nnnnn”, you heard Tony’s voice call out to you, “c’mon, get up”. You could feel your eyes start to flicker open as a sharp pressure was applied to your head.

“Ugh”, you groaned, trying to dull the pounding ache in your head. Pushing your hands up, you couldn’t help but wince, a burning pinch travelling up your arm.

“Woah woah woah, relax little Stark”, Steve said, pushing you softly back down, “you have heavily burnt your hands. I would refrain from even lifting them up”

“Wha-”, you asked, looking at your dad. Tony sighed, telling Steve to go outside the room, as he came to stand next to you. You looked at him, still confused about what happened.

“Yo-you went to the main circuit and apparently, they anticipated it. Well...they anticipated Peter to be there instead of you. Some type of fiery air was released around you, which, based on Bruce’s experiment, showed that it would literally burn Peter from inside his suit.”, Tony stopped for a second, looking outside the door, “Um, since you weren’t wearing a suit, it didn’t have too much of a boiling effect, but it did cause some burns and severe blackouts-”

“How long was I out?”, you asked quietly, looking down at your arms, seeing the layers and layers of bandaging on them.

“About 2 days”, he said, looking at you closer. “Peter’s been out there the entire time, waiting for you to wake up” Tony chuckled, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told him to go home, but he just wouldn’t listen to me-”

“Where is he now?”, you asked, surprised he had stayed behind to see you. After your fight, you were so sure that the chances of making up(making out) with Peter were close to zero.

“He’s outsid-”

“Mr Stark, is she awake?”, a drowsy voice called out, as a disheveled Peter came inside the room, his eyes catching onto yours. “H-hey Y/N”, he mumbled, eyes wide as they scanned your body.

“So I’ll leave it to you then”, Tony said, backing away, but not before whispering something in Peter’s ear that made his entire face go pink. “I’ll be back in an hour, alright? Gotta go pick up Morgan from school” He waved you off, but you were too busy staring at Peter. Who, by the way, looked like a mess. His hair was sticking out in all places, his eyes were bloodshot, and clothes rumpled.

Yet, he still looked like your Peter. Hesitantly, he walked over, almost as if he was too scared to even come near you, but the moment he was close enough to hear you, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m so sorry”, you whispered. Peter’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who acted like a total dick!”, Peter exclaimed, and it was like a dam broke inside him, “y-you could’ve died Y/N! Why did I-”

“Peter, I’m fine, okay?”, you said, wanting badly to put your hand on his shoulder, but you couldn’t even do that. “And I’m sorry for what I said to you last week- i-it wasn’t right, and I didn’t even mean it-”

Suddenly, you were cut off, because Peter’s lips were on yours, kissing you as if his life depended on it. You froze for a second, but as he began to pull away, you surged forward, kissing him back.

You could’ve stayed that way forever, in the dim light of the hospital room, kissing your enemy(crush), but you both needed oxygen to live. Pulling back slightly, you kept your forehead on Peter’s, looking into his brown eyes, as his looked into yours.

“I-I needed to do that”, Peter whispered, and you understood. “With you almost dying, I couldn’t just-”

“I know”, you said back, smiling at him slightly.

“I’m in love with you Y/N”, Peter confessed, glancing briefly at you, but blushing down in embarrassment. Not responding for a couple seconds, he took it the wrong way, as he backed up, eyes starting to brim up with tears.

You were so shocked, you didn’t even realize that he was almost out of the room. Tyring to speak as loud as possible, you piped up, “If you leave now, you aren’t gonna be here to hear my declaration of love Pete”

Peter stopped, his hand on the doornob. “What?”

You smiled, staring at the familiar mop of curls. “Yeah, and if I start speaking as you go out, then Cap might think it’s for him, and that’s an awkward conversation waiting to happen”

“Wha- declaration of what?”, Peter asked, baffled.

Grinning at the dopey smile of his, you chuckled. “I like you too Peter. Hell, I love you”

Peter walked closer, “Wait, you aren’t just saying that out of pity right?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to sit up, “When have I ever done something out of pity Parker?”

“Never”, Peter replied, a smile taking over his features. He came and sat next to you, and as suddenly as he kissed you earlier, he did so again, this time whispering so close to your mouth, and so quietly, you weren’t sure if you even heard him. “We were literally at each other’s throats a week ago, and now-”

“We’re making out”, you said, smirking, “but do you want to change that? I’m sure I can find someone as equally crazy as you to make out with”

Peter shook his head, laughing. “Not at all...plus, as tough as it is loving you”, he said, giving you a chaste peck, “it’s well worth it”

“Mhm, tough love”, you agreed, smiling at your brown haired boy.

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Wow! Loved writing this, and even though it took a long time to update, I hope you enjoyed this, and I can't wait to write my next one :)

Ps. If you have the time, check out Season 2 of Never Have I Ever, on Netflix. It's awsome!

Taglist: @idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul @loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326 @t-hollanderr @305weasley @starknik22 @marvelfansworld @lou-la-lou @lomlparker @marvelfansworld @wowitsel @vanteguccir @fullcheesecakeengineer @ladykxxx08 @allegras-sunflower @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme @a–1–1–3 @hayhays

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker angst #peter parker headcanon #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader imagine #avengers #avenger reader #stark!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #tom holland #peter parker x bestfriend reader #spiderman #peter parker series #peter parker drabble #peter parker blurb

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mah-gah-lee · 3 years

Text

You’re such a bitch - (Charlie Gillespie x reader)

Word Count: 2486 Request: no, again @jatpsmut inspired me with his fic “What Happens in Hawaii Stays in Hawaii - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (SMUT - 18+)”. I asked her if I could use the Hawaii idea and now I am writing this!

However, some details change from the original fic:

“Charlie and y/n haven't been best friends since they were kids, but from the first season of jatp. y/n is an additional actor on Julie and the Phantoms, also a dancer. Charlie didn't confess his feelings to y/n in Hawaii.

The only thing I got from the idea of @jatpsmut is the fact that something happened in Hawaii. So thank you to her for writing this incredible fic, without it this could not happen Summary: You and Charlie were best friends and roommates in LA. One evening, you heard it with a girl, the next morning, everything is awkward, bitchy and everything changes. Warnings: mention of sexual activities - language disclaimer: I don't know Charlie or his family personally or what his life is like. All you will read in this "x reader" is from my imagination. My point is not to invade Charlie's privacy. I don't want to offend him or offend anybody else in his life (family, potential girlfriend…). All of this is not the reality

Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics @standingtalllove @lukeys-giggle @happinessinthedarkesttimes if you want to be tagged in my next fic let me know !

---

You try to focus on the TV show you were watching, but obviously your roommate had company. And that company was way too loud in your opinion. You were rolling your eyes in annoyance when suddenly your phone vibrates, displaying the blonde head of your second best friend. If there was one thing you miss since you came back to live to Los Angeles, it was obviously living with this sarcastic character. Vancouver seemed so far away to you. You picked up your phone and Owen's face appeared.

“Hi sweetie.” Owen told you with a smile “Oh, hey… Why that face?” he clearly noticed your annoyance. "Hi O." you said before complaining "Ugh, I miss living with you in Vancouver so much" "Yeah me too. We had so much fun. But hey, I'm sure we'll have a season two." "I hope so much"

You were an extra cast member on Julie and the Phantoms, you also were a dancer on the first season, just as Tori. You wished so much Owen was right about Jatp season 2 renew but Netflix seemed to enjoy making you patient. But the coronavirus had also literally messed up all your plans. However, you were angry, some series came out long after yours and got renewed while yours stayed on hold. It was clear that fans of the series as much as you were just waiting for the renewal of season two.

A moan came out of Charlie's bedroom with the sound of a bouncing mattress, you rolled your eyes again, groaning with a sort of anger.

"Jesus Christ ..." you complained "Wait, y/n, what's that sound?" “You know what I miss most about living with you in Vancouver O’? Rule #3. " “Rule #3? Rule #3" he seemed to think about what you said when he finally realized "Oh ... Oh! Rule #3! Wait.. Oh my God! Is Charlie being with a chick right now? ” He asked you with stupefaction. "Oh I wish you were wrong"

A laugh came out from you best friend mouth and you gave him a killer look through the screen, making him laugh harder. When you were in Vancouver, living with two boys forced you to set limits and rules for living. The first was; everyone cleans up their own mess. Second, the housework takes turns. Third rule: no one-night stand allowed in the flat. Surprisingly as it may seem, this rule had been followed very well by everyone. But at the same time, the boys' schedules really didn't make time to bring anyone home, and then after all, they were professional. But as soon as Charlie returned from his parents' quarantine, he forgot the existence of this rule, as if it did not apply to Los Angeles. It wasn't like he brought a different girl home every night, or even every month. It might have been the second or third time since you had moved in. But this situation embarrassed you more than you might have thought.

“Owen, don't make fun of me. I've been hearing them for about an hour now. " "Poor you. Now you understand how I felt in Hawaii" he smirked at you. "Wait, what did you say?" you asked him, in shocked. "Oh please y/n ... you heard me clearly"

Of course, you had heard what he said, but you were in shock at the revelation, so you needed confirmation. This story was supposed to be a secret between you and Charlie. The fact that Owen mentioned it could only assume two things.

"Did you hear us in Hawaii?" “I was in the room next door! Of course, I heard you. It's not like you and Charlie are the quietest couple ever having sex ... " "It seems Charlie is the loudest one…" you said, referring to your best friend having sex in the next bedroom. "Oh darling please, I can remind you of what you said that night. You two gave me nightmares." "Please don't. I feel so embarrassed right now"

Last year you went to Hawaii with several cast members and Kenny. A booking error forced you to share a bed with Charlie. It seemed that sleeping with a girl seemed more adequate than two boys sleeping in the same bed. Charlie and Owen had avoided that possibility the second the problem had arisen. One thing leading to another, after a few strong cocktails, you and the dark-haired boy had ended up having a horny night. The shame caused the next day made you both never talk about it again and "what happened in Hawaii will stay in Hawaii". You didn’t know that Owen heard you and it seems that boy can keep a secret for so long now.

The problem was that that night you realized that you felt more than an attraction to your roommate. It went beyond friendship or mere sexual tension at the sight of this Canadian. You wanted every aspect of what you might have experienced with Charlie and more: the laughs, the funny times, the lots of talking, the quiet times watching a movie or just playing Nintendo Switch, the sex. But you also wanted the PDAs, the feelings, just being with him like his girlfriend. But the actor was totally oblivious to your feelings for him, and you didn't even want to try to make him understand it on his own. You just created a shell for yourself and buried your feelings deep within yourself.

“I don’t understand y/n. Why didn’t you tell him your feeling?” “Because I know he doesn’t love me back, O.” “Oh come on! You two are the most stubborn people I ever met!”

Again, for the third time tonight, you've rolled your eyes. You were pretty sure Charlie didn't feel the same way you did. Since Hawaii, neither of you had stepped forward towards each other, but sometimes your behaviors showed that you were more than friends. Another moan was heard from Charlie’s room and Owen's face on the screen was memorable. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were red.

"Okay, y/n. I'm sorry but I don't want to keep talking to you and hear my other best friend hooking up at the same time ..."

You laughed and he hung up the phone not forgetting to say goodbye. You tried to focus on your screen again, your headphones being way too far away for you to catch them. Minutes later you finally heard the distinctive sound of Charlie's orgasm and knew you were finally going to be able to sleep.

…

The next morning you woke up with a high level of fatigue. You casually walk to the kitchen to make coffee. While you were pouring yourself a cup of this much-desired black liquid, a person entered the kitchen.

"Who the fuck are you?"

You raised an eyebrow, bringing your mug to your lips. The girl looked at you with a disgusted face.

"Roommate, darling. Not nice to meet you." "Why the hell are you wearing his shirt?"

A smirk appears on your lips, far too happy that she asked the question. When you were in Vancouver, it wasn't surprising to see you wearing the boys' t-shirts, although you had a preference for Charlie's, there were times when you wore Owen's. The boys never complained about this mania and you had to continue when you moved to Los Angeles with Charlie. The scene was pretty funny, you were there drinking your coffee in a t-shirt borrowed from your roommate while his conquest from last night stared at you in disgust, decked out in another Charlie t-shirt. You took a look at the Looney Tunes t-shirt you were wearing and just shrug your shoulders.

“Old habits.” You simply said. "Yeah, you're gonna have to break this habit."

You laughed disdainfully. You didn't like this girl. Not because it was the conquest of your best friend for whom you had blatant romantic feelings. But rather because she had this condescension and believed that spending a night with Charlie gave her every right.

"What makes you think that, sweetie?"

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your posture offhand, a smirk on your lips. You weren't used to being such a bitch, but the girl in front of you pissed you off. And it was only nine in the morning.

"Well, hello, I spent the night with Charlie." "Oh yeah sure, but that doesn't mean you're dating him." "Charlie is a great guy"

She wasn't wrong. Charlie wasn't heartbroken but he was still human and a twenty-two-year-old boy. Just looking at her you knew your best friend hadn't chosen her for a serious relationship with her. The little conversation you were having with her now confirmed that he couldn't date her. Another smirk spread across your lips as she looked at you with disdain again.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You are nowhere near his level" she said to you

This time, you couldn't help but laugh sarcastically. Yeah, she really pissed you off. Physically, she was everything Charlie didn't like about a potential girlfriend: big breasts, much bigger than him, slightly shallow. Oh but she had a fucking ass and maybe that was why he had chosen her. Her whole body reflected Charlie's choice for a one-night stand, but not the ideal girlfriend.

"Oh honey, I'm nobody, but neither are you. Listen. You were just a one-night stand and me? Me, I'll still be here in his apartment with his t-shirts on when he brings you home, telling you that it was cool but that it will not go further. I will always be there ... "

Charlie woke up and headed straight for the kitchen. He greeted her conquest with a nod, giving her a hello. Instinctively, he approached you and put his hand on your waist before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. Charlie was tactile, it was his language of love. You couldn't help but smirk at the girl, giving her a victorious look. The actor looked at your outfit and a smile appeared on his lips.

"So that's where it was! I thought I lost it in the Galapagos." he was referring to his looney tunes t-shirt

Your attention fell on Charlie and you smiled happily at him. You cheekily handed your cup of coffee.

"Coffee?" "Hell, yeah"

He grabbed your cup and took a long sip, leaving his conquest almost nonexistent to his eyes. The girl was so pissed off that she seemed to be boiling. She cleared her throat, annoyed.

"Hmm, I'm going to go" she said. "Oh wait, let me have lunch and I'll bring you back if you want." "It won't be necessary."

You bit the tip of your tongue, amused, far too happy to hide it. Charlie's conquest returned to his room to get dressed. Your roommate turned to you and gave you a questioning look.

"y/n, what did you do?" "Nothing. We were happily getting know each other. I'm surprised at your choice, by the way" "Are you getting revenge?" "Get revenge for what?" "Since ... Hawaii, you've scared all the girls I've brought back." "Did I scare them? Stop, I haven't acted any differently than usual." “You scared them away,” he repeated. "Oh come on, Charlie, please, it's not like you're going to date them."

He pulled away from you with a look of dismay. You were not wrong, he had never called back the girls he had brought back here, he did not intend to call back the one who was currently in his room. In fact, the only person he really wanted to spend time with was you. But since Hawaii, you seemed to be okay with never mentioning your night together again. This Canadian boy has been in love with you for months, maybe even years now. It quickly fell for you when you were in Vancouver.

"You're right. But I could have ..." he finally confessed "It's wrong. You know it's wrong Charlie, I know you, I'm your best friend. These are not the kind of girls you date. "Yeah… I couldn't date any of them. They just aren't you." He said, his last sentence ending in a whisper before hastening to take a sip from your cup of coffee.

You were paralyzed. Did he really just say what you've been dreaming of hearing for months? Did he just drop it like a bomb, in the middle of a morning conversation between sips of coffee?

“Wait, what?” “Nothing” “It wasn’t nothing, Charlie, you said something” “Nothing important” he repeats “Did you just say that if you didn’t date those girls it’s because they weren’t me?” “You seems to hear voices” “Charlie, I’m not joking… Did you say that?!” “Maybe” “Oh fuck, you’re an idiot!” “I am a..”

You snatched the cup of coffee from her hands and hurriedly put it on the counter. Never mind about the stains on the floor, you will clean up later. You didn't want to miss a second of this possibility. You wrapped your arms around Charlie's neck before resting your lips on his. Your best friend seemed surprised at first so much but quickly relaxed and wrapped his own arms around your waist as your lips moved to give the kiss more tender. The situation was most strange and funny; you were kissing your best friend, running your fingers through his long brown hair. You had to admit that even though you had found him attractive with his Luke's look but you couldn't imagine Charlie without that impressive mass of hair. Luke had short hair, Charlie had long hair. End of the discussion.

So, you were kissing your roommate, making up for lost time while in his room, a girl he had fucked the night before gathered her things. Charlie's conquest stepped out to head for the exit. You broke the kiss making Charlie growl in protest.

"I'm not showing you where the door is." you said. "whore .." the chick whispered.

Charlie stepped away from you and brought his one-night stand to the door, apologizing. He wasn't that kind of boy to go from girl to girl and the circumstances were really strange. The girl left, not without forgetting to curse him. When Charlie walks into the kitchen, you were sitting on the counter, a smirk on your face.

"You're such a bitch y/n" “It's my revenge for keeping me awake last night.”

His gaze was sly, his smile was mischievous and you knew he was going to find a phrase worthy of the fucking boy he could be.

"I can keep you awake for a while if you want." “A date wouldn't be too complicated, Charlie. Please be a gentleman. "You can count on me"

He gave you a softer look and you wrapped your arms around his neck again before kissing him. Ultimately, not everything that happened in Hawaii has to be restricted to Hawaii.

#charlie gillespie #charles gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #jatp #jatp cast x reader #jatp fic #jatp cast imagine #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #julie and the phantoms

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egyptian-sun-god · 3 years

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Never Have I Ever (mildly critical lens)

1. BIG THING. NHIE is not a show that was made directed at me. Yes it has similarities with my heritage as Indian but I am not American. Not born there nor raised. I am a diaspora Tamilian though, and my schools throughout most of my life have had very little Indians and even fewer Tamilians in them. Usually its just me. So while there is overlap, Devi and I would have innately different experiences and worldviews.

2. Why is her last name Vishwakumar and her Dad’s name Mohan? Where that coming from. Correct me if I’m wrong, but most to all Tamil people use patronymic's right? Like am I right or am I tripping? Someone correct me. I checked Mindy Kaling’s bio and she took her father’s last name so I might be tripping?

3. Okay straight off the bat, Devi annoyed the hell outta me. Like no joke...I really dislked Devi. But she’s a traumatized teenager who has no common sense and too much hormones. I’ve seen ppl like her so I’m fairly happy we have a flawed and messed up portrayal of a POC and doesn’t feed into the idea of perfection. But also Devi’s mom is suprisingly lenient to Devi’s disrespect man. like I see why but woowowowowo....she’s uncharacteristically tolerant sometimes.

Now even though I get that Devi is supposed to be flawed and unlikeable. Because she is immensely selfish and bitchy with shitty communication skills. Devi’s friends forgive her waaay to fast. Like ladies, what are you aiming for? SAINTHOOD? Like at least let her grovel a little bit for being such a bitch.

4. Love interest. Y’all heard me. WHY THE FUCK IS BOTH OF HER INTERESTS WHITE or at least definitely white passing. Like they did Paxton dirty man. Like was it too much? Was it too much to wish for Devi to have more Indian friends or like an Indian/POC love interest? I feel personally that it is such a weird precedent that has been set with POC centric love stories. And this definitely should be a critic that has come up before.

You know which love stories resonated with me? Nalini and Mohan. Because it represented the possibility of like marrying someone (going off the assumption they were arranged to be married) and falling in love after marriage. A very real scenario for many many couples. Kamala’s entire shenanigan with Steve and Prasanth and having to choose between the uncertain boyfriend situation but losing family but keeping family and going with an arranged marriage. Also props to Kaling for not demonizing arranged marriages. Please please let season 2 explore Kamala’s struggle more. Hell even that one off thing with Eleanor and the tech crew boy was funny.

5. Kamala’s whole character was many vibes. Because counting down and stressing about marriage is such a goddamn relatable feeling. I ain’t that much younger than Kamala and let me tell you the anticipation/fear is REAL. And like her talking in Ganesh puja and like weighting the options of being a social outcast or going with the arranged marriage and with the hope that like you’ll find someone cool.

6. I don’t like how Devi tries to reject her Indian culture and I really really hope they develop that next season or something and get her to find a balance. Because at the end of that season she did get a good talking to about trying to be Indian enough or too Indian and finding that balance but it doesn’t feel like she’s finding that balance and her being jealous of the other Indian girl does not bode well for me.

ALSO THEY FUCKING MISSED OUT SO BAD. You make a series about a Tamil American girl and you don’t name drop any famous stars. Thala Thalapathy, Superstar??? VJS?? Surya? Dhanush? Nobody? Why? Like Devi doesn’t know them...makes sense. But like Kamala is from town right? She has to have carried some of that. Like that scene when she called them for a movie right? Why not name drop some famous ass classic like Baasha or Sachein or Roja? Like a cool nod to the Tamil kids out there watching this series to see parts of their culture and language included. Like even the soundtrack and songs have no Tamil songs? Like not even one for the heck of it?? WHY? IS THAT NOT SO SO MUCH MISSED REPRESENTATION? Like typical Tamil things like making a beat out of random shit, Tamil kuthu songs, Typical Tamil mega serials, food and enjoying food together. Like why wasn’t the food stated or name dropped.

Personally, NHIE was really really really white palatable and it didn’t really get it into any roots of our culture especially for a girl struggling to find roots as in where she fits. Like you gotta show both cultures and let the audience and Devi figure out where she fits. If you show long Netflix shows like Pretty little liars, show alternatives like mega serials such as Chitti or Mudiyaathu Karuppu or Mettioli? Or if you wanna be more modern name drop Tamil webseries’s? If you wanna show English pop hits, show Tamil album songs and kuthu beats. IF YOU WANNA REPRESENT, THEN ACTUALLY REPRESENT. Don’t pull this generic ass BS on me!

5. I hope the lack of tamil culture in the series gets corrected next season somehow. I don’t have ANY ANY faith that it will. But I can be hopeful. Also I lowkey like that Devi has like a “rival” of another Indian girl. I don’t like that is is rivalry cause brown sisters gotta support each other and that’s sort of been the general motto from where I’m from. But like I get why and it would make complete sense.

I really really hope that Aneesha is like super super Indian. Proud of her culture and brings a lot of her culture and its facets to discussions and not afraid to make her culture a focal point of herself. It would be a really good foil to Devi and it might spark some thought into her and accepting or at least recognizing the cool shit about being Tamil. I wanna see that mainly cause I used to be lowkey ashamed for having a strong accent when I speak cause I was made fun of and I didn’t like having different lunches or listening to different music and not being part of the more Western culture. But I learnt to ignore that and became like 3000 times more proud of being Tamil and wore like traditional clothes to school, ranging from kurti tops over jeans at first and eventually wearing full on chudidaars and saris (saris to proms at least, I couldn’t wear a sari on a daily, half sari probably, sari would be hard). Bringing traditional sweets and food and distributing them to anyone who would ask and trading lunches. Please let me see a brown kid who is proud to be brown and straight up in your face about it at times.

(Unrelated but to Tamil/Indian ppl who had other Indian/Tamil kids in your school like was trading lunches or like sharing lunches common? Like its a pretty common Tamil thing to do and I brought that culture of taking some of everybody’s lunch and giving everybody a part of mine everywhere I went. But like was that a thing? )

#nhie #nhie season 2 #nhie spoilers #never have i ever #netflix #tamil representation #tamil #nhie review #critical analysis of shows #sorry y'all I have a lot of feelings about this show

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

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8 Letters

OR: 4 times he couldn’t say he loved you + 1 time he did

Ok, here we are with the very over hyped Vince fic! This was inspired by 8 Letters by Why Don’t We and has been swimming around in my head for a while before I realize it fits with this himbo.

Shoutouts to the following (and hopefully this is short because this is not an awards show even though it would be fun to pretend it is): @vincecdunn because Nikki’s the reason I’m on the Vince train so as retaliation I’m just going to keep sending her ideas for more fics to write, @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys and @broadstbroskis for allowing me to come into your inboxes and be annoying and bounce ideas off of, and then @pettypetey and @pumpkinpatchmakar for the ways to say I love you and I’m 100% forgetting people but that’s just because I suck

Other people who wanted to be tagged: @all-time-fanatic @marialovesdean @oyeinpayne @ghstandpucks @maybehockeymaybenot @itzelmunoz and @thecasualyogi (unsure why it isn’t letting me tag you sad boi)

So, here we go, all 7.8k words of this 4+1

______________________

Tonight was one of the first nights in a while that the two of you were able to spend together, Vince on the road on and off for what felt like longer than usual and you just drowning at work. Any chance you got to be together at this point was almost always spent alone in the comforts of your place or his. You were spending it at your place, watching him stand at the stove as he cooked dinner for the two of you.

“God, who you have thought someone could look so sexy stirring pasta,” you admire him, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

He laughs, putting the large spoon on the counter, turning around to face him. Vince approaches you, pulling you close to him. His hand finds the small of back, the other tilting your chin up to him. He bites his lip, looking down at you. “You think that’s sexy, just wait,” he says, his lips planted against yours before you can say anything else.

You pull away at the sound of splashing water, seeing the pot boiling over. “Ah, fuck,” Vince releases his grip and runs to turn the burner down, you laughing as he goes back to stirring the boiling bubbles away.

“You know what’s great about this?” you say, sarcasm dripping in your voice.

“Oh no,” he mutters, bringing the pot over to the sink to drain the excess water, knowing that whatever you’re going to say isn’t going to be great for him.

“You get to clean up.”

He puts the now empty pot back on the stove, shaking the remaining water off the pasta in the strainer, “But I made the dinner!”

“Yeah, and then you made the mess.”

He turns to you, a mischievous look on his face. “You’re evil,” he says, lunging at you, lifting you off the ground and sending you into a fit of giggles as you try to wriggle your way free of his grasp.

“Vince!” you squeal, your arms overlapping his. “Put me down!”

“I like holding you, though,” he whines, putting you down without letting you go.

You turn around to face him, putting your hand on his face, tracing a random pattern on his cheek with your thumb. “Hold me on the ground and after you put the pesto on the pasta,” you tell him, giving him a quick kiss before pushing him away. “I thought you didn’t like pesto?”

He shrugs, putting pasta into the bowls you hand him. “I’m not crazy about it, but it’s your favorite, so I’ll put up with it for you.”

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks over something so simple. “You’re nice,” you tell him, in a sing-songy voice, taking a bite of the pasta.

“Only to you,” he says, sending you a wink that makes your insides flutter.

Properly full from the simple dinner, after you clean the dishes and Vince cleans the stove, you retreat to your bedroom where you planned on spending the rest of the night. “What do you want to watch tonight?” Vince asks you, settling onto your bed with your TV remote in hand.

He reaches his arm out, gesturing for you to come snuggle up next to him, perfectly fitting against him as he kisses the top of your head, the warmth from his body comforting you more than the blankets that covered your bed probably ever would. “Gossip Girl,” you insist, knowing what his reaction would be.

Vince groans, throwing his head back. “Come on, that show is so bad.”

You look up at him, imitating the puppy dog eyes and signature pout he would give you all too often when he was asking you to do something. “Yes. But that’s what makes it so good to watch,” you plead.

He rolls his eyes, giving in and pulling it up on your Netflix. “Now how could I say no to that face,” he tells you.

“You can’t,” you tell him as he pulls up the show.

Letting out a small, “Yay,” you earn a giggle from his lips before kissing him quickly and settling into the show. You start with the first episode of the second season, Vince stroking your arm absentmindedly, laughing at how cheesy the show is. He steals the occasional glance at you, loving how closely you could pay attention to anything in front of you, analyzing, critiquing, admiring what was before you. You did it with anything and everything that you fixated on, something Vince could never do and something he loved about you.

Not that you’ve said you love each other yet. But, you were the only thing he could focus on outside of hockey at any moment.

“The true reason I should stay right where I am and not get in the car,” the two of you watch Blair Waldorf on your screen in her scene with Chuck Bass. “Three words. Eight letters. Say it, and I’m yours.”

The screen cuts to Chuck, his hesitation. “I-I...”

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear,” with Blair getting in the car, leaving Chuck standing there watching the girl he knew he loved drive off with his heart.

That part always made you cry, letting out a soft sob at the sight of the character you hated the most, actually experiencing heartbreak, slightly humanizing the demon that you thought he was. Vince, paying more attention to you than the show, had no clue what was happening.

“This is a dumb question,” he starts, watching you wipe the tears that had fallen down your face, “But what are the three words?”

You sit up, your hand placed on his thigh sending a chill through his body. “I love you.”

His eyes go wide, swallowing hard. Given what just happened in the episode, he knew it was ridiculous to think, but he couldn’t help but wonder if what just happened on your screen would happen right now. “Are... are those the words or are you telling me?” he asks, his voice shaking.

You hesitate for a moment. You had been together for five months already. He was the person you trusted the most, no matter how dumb he might be sometimes. You would do anything for him, and you were sure that he would do anything for you. You thought about him constantly, but you had never been in love before. Whatever you felt for Vince was something you hadn’t felt for anyone. “Both,” you decide, seeing the panic wash over his face. “You don’t have to say it back. I’m not gonna leave you if you don’t,” you reassure him.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying to muster up the courage to actually say what he wanted to. He knows how he feels about you, but, “I can’t say it.” You knew the pain you felt at hearing those words flashed over your face for a moment because of the quick, “I’m sorry,” he let out before getting up off your bed and heading for the door.

“Vince, hey, wait,” you say, chasing after him and beating him to your door. With your back against it, you look at your boyfriend, panicked, breathing fast, hands shaking. “Vince,” you say his name again, hearing it coming from you calming him down, “You don’t have to say it. I promise. Just please, don’t leave.”

He studies your face, the pain that he just caused you still showing. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, dropping his head.

“Hey,” you say, tilting his head up to look at you. “Listen to me when I say this: it’s fine. I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it just because I did. I told you that because I do love you. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. I can’t force you to love me,” you tell him, smiling through it. He had to know it was a fake smile, just using it to hide how you really felt. “You still want to be with me, right?”

He hesitated for longer than he should have, even though his answer popped into this head immediately. “What? Of course I do. Can we just,” he takes a deep breath, trying to find his words, “Do you think we can watch something else?”

You nod, taking his hand and leading you back to your bed. You just fucked everything up, didn’t you? But Vince’s panic and now lack of attention to even the Netflix catalogue he was scrolling through was more worrisome than him not saying he loves you. “Actually,” you say, gently taking the remote from his hands, “Do you think we can talk about this? Like, I’m ok with it, but, I don’t know, you’re kind of worrying me.”

He can’t look at you, staring at the TV instead as the now muted screen flashed with characters he didn’t recognize. “I don’t know,” he lies. “The girls I was with before I met you kinda fucked me up I guess.” You could feel your heart breaking watching him like this, more so than when you watched Chuck and Blair. “I thought I was in love with them, but then it always ended with them using me for my money, because I play in the NHL, for sex. I mean, my purity score thing is so low for a reason, right?” he jokes, you trying to smile even though you could feel yourself wanting to cry. “Fuck, one of them even called Sammy because she liked him more while I was asleep in the bed next to her and asked him to go pick her up.”

You take his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Using the pads of your thumbs, you wipe away the tears that you got on him, unsure if they were just yours or if he had started crying, too. “I will never do that to you,” you assure him. “I’ll even call Sammy and tell him that you’re better.”

He laughs, sniffling a little bit. “Can you do that every day? Really wear down his self esteem.”

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, happy that he was at least smiling again. “I’m not going to emotionally destroy a man.”

“But it’s Sammy!”

You, Nikki, and Patricia were sitting on Nikki’s couch together, each with one glass of wine for the night because of the need to drive later, pizza, popcorn, and much more junk food than you would like to admit. Dressed as if you hadn’t seen daylight in years, you all had on sweatpants, sweatshirts, hair tied back, makeup free, everything that would signal to an outsider that you had all stopped caring, but to you, it was just a night in after work. It was a much needed girls night, the stress of work getting to all of you while you sat there with your best friends trying to find something to watch. With the boys off on a road trip, you could definitely use the company. Part of you was bothered by Vince not saying he loves you, but could you really justifiably get upset but that?

“What are we watching?” Nikki asks, pulling up Netflix, practically forcing you to relive the conversation with Vince from the other night.

“Uh, Gilmore Girls?” Patricia suggests.

Without saying a word, Nikki plays the episode she left off on, Rory and Dean celebrating their anniversary together by going out to what was supposed to be a nice, sweet night.

“What do you think Connecticut is like?” Patricia asks about the setting of the iconic show.

“My ex in college was from Connecticut. Nothing good comes from Connecticut,” comes from Nikki, you barely hearing her as you fixate on the episode.

“Gilmore Girls comes from Connecticut.”

Without missing a beat, Nikki says, “One good thing comes from Connecticut.” The two of them keep talking, you barely hearing anything they say as you watch Dean and Rory in the car that Dean had built for her, telling her he loves her for the first time. Rory doesn’t say it back, the same expression on her face that you say on Vince’s that night. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Nikki asks, snapping you away from the show.

“Oh, nothing, why?” you lie through your teeth, your best friends exchanging concerned looks.

“You know that you’re crying, right?” Patricia asks, snagging the remote and pausing the episode.

You reach up, feeling your now damp cheeks, wiping away the tears you didn’t even know were there that were brimming in your eyes. “Oh, wow,” you let out, laughing a little bit. “I guess the episode just got to me,” you lie again. Nikki sits there, eyebrow raised, lips pursed as if to say ‘bitch, please,’ while Patricia just sat there, waiting for you to answer. “I told Vince I love him,” you start.

You get cut off by the two of them screaming, “Oh my god!” and “What did he say?”

“He,” you sigh, debating on telling them the truth or not. “He panicked and couldn’t say it.”

Both of them gasp, you trying to figure out what emotions they felt; anger, sadness, disappointment, you swear all of it flashed on their face.

“Dump his ass!” Nikki yells, loud enough that her neighbors could probably hear her.

You take a handful of popcorn, throwing it at her in response, Patricia laughing and dodging the mess the two of you were creating as kernels flew past her face. “I’m not dumping him! He said he’s afraid of getting hurt,” you tell them once you stop throwing the food at each other.

“Does he think you’re going to hurt him?” Patricia asks, concern washing over her face.

“If he thinks that, you dump him,” Nikki pips in.

“You cut that out,” you fire back, pointing your finger at her. The ridiculousness of the simple action made all of you laugh, forgetting for a moment the conversation at hand.

“Do you really love him?” Patricia asks another question, both her and Nikki with the same expression on their faces.

You feel a soft smile growing on your face, nodding. “I really do. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him. Can we just talk about something else, please?”

They go back to talking about Connecticut, you trying to keep up with their banter.

“Wait, so why did you date that Connecticut boy?” you finally join the conversation, asking Nikki.

She shrugs, shoving the popcorn that was still in the bowl into her mouth. “Connecticut boys have money. I figured I could get some nice shit from him.”

“So you're a gold digger?” you tease her, Patricia nearly spitting out her wine.

Nikki sits there, mouth open pretending to be offended. “Talk about being a gold digger, you’re dating a professional athlete!”

You mirror her look, Patricia laughing as the innocent bystander in this. “Fuck,” is you can muster out before the three of you are laughing together.

“How could he not love that!” Nikki says once you catch your breath, pointing to the smile on your face and immediately making you turn red.

“Are you flirting with her?” Patricia asks

“Someone has too,” she shrugs, winking at you while sipping her wine.

You sit there, in awe of her bluntness. “If Vince were here he would get mad at you.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Patricia asks, changing the subject before Nikki can flirt with you more or make other snarky comments about your boyfriend.

“You see,” you start, setting down your glass of wine, “Vince told me they were going to California but when I checked the schedule it said they were going to play the Florida Panthers tomorrow,” you explain, all of you unable to contain your laughter, “so I think he’s confused.”

The three of you fall back into a rhythm that doesn’t involve talking about your boyfriend who was just about off your mind. After a few hours, you’re all yawning, the single glass of wine having no effect on you as you drowned out the alcohol with more water than anything so you could drive, Nikki kicking you out so she can go to sleep.

While you and Patricia are walking to your cars, your phone starts buzzing, an incoming Facetime call from Vince. You answer, immediately turning the camera away from you, “Hey, babe, I’m walking to my car.”

“And you’re not showing me yourself because you don’t want me to see the guy walking you there?” he jokes, smirking at the camera. He was in the bed in his hotel room, the white sheets pulled up just low enough that his chest was exposed, shirtless as he always was when he was ready to sleep. He knew what he was doing; showing just enough of himself that it would drive you crazy enough to be distracted.

“Yeah, this is the man,” you tease, panning over to Patricia getting into your car, “Say hi to Vince!”

“I’m stealing your girl!” she yells, ducking into her car and shutting her door, Vince’s laugh echoing in the air.

You prop your phone up in the thing your mom got you, suctioned to your dash so you can still see your phone while driving, even though you told her you had Apple CarPlay and had no need for it. Driving down the street, you fall into a mundane conversation with Vince about getting to Florida, teasing him for confusing it with California, telling him about the girls night you just had.

“Come on, show me your face!” you hear him whine. Without taking your eyes off the road, you know exactly the look on his face: those green eyes of his wide like a puppy, his bottom lip jutted out and if he weren’t holding his phone, his hands would be intertwined in themselves under his chin to show you he was begging.

“No, I look gross. My hair is tied back, I have no makeup on, and I’m in a groutfit.”

“Have you ever seen me?”

You roll your eyes, hitting the button to flip the camera now that you were at a red light. “Yes, I’ve seen you. You’re hot,” you say without shame.

“Fuck,” you hear him let out a long and low whisper. You roll your eyes at him, even though you can’t help but blush and smile at the way he was practically visibly drooling over you. “I didn’t know gross could be so beautiful.”

“I look like a Founding Father, shut up,” you say, glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the heat rushing to your cheeks.

He laughs again, making you smile even wider at the sound. “Who would have thought I would like sleeping with a Founding Father.”

“That is necrophilia!” you scream, loud enough that you could probably be heard outside your car, drowning out the sound of his laugher. “I never want to hear you say anything like that ever again!”

You pull up to your building, getting out and walking to your place while Vince rambles on about something that Sammy had done on the plane. “Oh!” he says once you unlock your door, startling you and almost dropping your phone, “Look what I got you!”

“You got me something?” you ask him, walking through your dark apartment into your room.

“I saw and I liked it and thought you would like it so I had to get it!” he says like a giddy child. He holds up a small stuffed puppy, shoving it almost too close to the camera, “Can you see the tag on his collar?”

He pulls it away slightly, the letter on it becoming clear. “His name is Vince!” you exclaim, the biggest smile on his face as he holds it next to him.

“Because you say when I get excited I remind you of a little puppy.” He sits there with the small stuffed animal pressed to his face, beaming at his purchase that he couldn’t wait to give you, even though he ruined the surprise he had anticipated because he couldn’t wait until he got home to see you. You take a screenshot, unable to hide how adorable you found him in that moment.

“I love it, Vince. I can’t wait for you to get home,” you say to him, a big yawn coming from him. His eyes get droopy, the way he gets before he’s about to fall asleep, a lazy smile on his face that means he felt the same.

You settle onto your bed, turning on your tv to watch whatever was on. You sit there in silence holding your phone, yawning a few times yourself. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna go to sleep,” you say, leaning over to turn off your lights, “I love you,” you say, forgetting that you're upset over his inability to say it back, seeing that he was already asleep, anyway, unable to return with a response.

III

You were swamped with work, having to hustle on a Saturday to get everything done. Vince was tired of being cooped up inside, only really going out when he had practice or a game, so he was the one to suggest going to the coffee shop half way between your apartments in order to just be somewhere that wasn’t the four walls of your apartments.

“You’re not working,” he says in a teasing voice, watching you sit there staring out the window at the people passing by.

“I just,” you sigh, “I don’t want to do this project.”

“Can I help?” he asks, getting up from his seat and standing behind you, just enough room between your chair and the wall for him to fit and lean against you. “You’re on Facebook.”

You look up at him, an innocent look on your face. “I’m using a rewards system!” you defend yourself. “I was working for half an hour, so I’m watching a video as a break.” You scroll back to the video you were just watching as he rests his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the slightly. You find the video of an artist with a bunch of metal strips, twisting them into a metal tree art piece. You turn to him, eyes wide with excitement, a huge smile on your face that he can’t help but roll his eyes at, mirroring your smile. “Isn’t it cool?”

“You’re acting like a child. That’s my job,” he says, kissing your cheek before going back to sit down.

“That just means you’ve rubbed off on me. Or maybe I’ve rubbed off on you?” you wonder, scrolling to find one more video to watch. The next video is scene from That 70’s Show, and old favorite of yours that you haven’t seen since it was taken off Netflix. Eric and Donna were in a car, probably the Vista Cruiser in one of the earlier seasons judging by how young they look. The captions on, your sound off, you read the scene instead of watching. It was Donna telling Eric she loved him, only for him to panic and respond with, “I love cake.” The smile on your face disappears, looking up at Vince and thankful that he was paying more attention to his phone than he was to you.

You just wanted him to say he loved you. You were sure that he did, and you had told him that you did. But he couldn’t say it. You were constantly going back and forth between being ok with it and being upset by it, knowing that it wasn’t fair to force him to say something if he didn’t mean it, but also knowing that it wasn’t fair to you to spill your guts to him for him to remain closed off.

You take a deep breath, switching back to the tab that had the new marketing pitch you were working on. You get to typing, focusing on the project while you see four other cursors working on different parts, occasionally switching to another section to check one of your partners' work while they do the same for you. You barely notice the people around you, the coffee shop practically packed to capacity as an afternoon rush came in. Vince would look up from his phone, stealing the occasional glance while you take no notice.

You both jump at the sound of someone knocking on the window next to you. Look up, Vince knew who it was immediately, irritated by your “Oh my god!” sqeual as you practically leap from the table to run outside.

Vince watches as you jump into the guys arms, a huge smile on your face, unable to read your lips as you talk with him. The guy was more attractive than Vince had remembered. Fuck, he looked like a model, and there Vince was, a hockey player, mad about it.

“How have you been?” you ask your friend Jack, someone you hadn’t seen in years.

“Pretty good,” he tells you, his arms lingering on your waist once you pull away from the hug you practically forced on him in the first place. “You?”

“Good, busy. Getting out with my boyfriend instead of acting like an old agoraphobic couple,” you tell him motioning to Vince sitting at the table, arms crossed over his chest. You both wave to him, Vince mirroring with a wave and a very unenthusiastic look. “Who’s apparently tired from practice,” you lie, hoping he would buy the explanation for Vince’s unexpected attitude.

“Isn’t he a hockey player?” You look back at Vince who’s now looking down at his phone, nodding, a soft smile on your face as you just stare at your dumb boyfriend. “You really have a thing for athletes, huh?”

You roll your eyes, knowing what he was referencing: Jack was technically your ex, having hooked up a few times, gone out on a few dates, he even brought you to a family wedding of his because you were seeing each other when the invitations went out, breaking up not long after the event. You never called him your boyfriend, and as far as you were concerned, you weren’t his girlfriend, but still, you weren’t just friends. “Hockey players are a little better than baseball players, bub,” you tell him, knowing it would hurt his ego a little bit.

He scrunches his face, pretending to be hurt but laughing anyway. “You always know how to hit a guy where it hurts, Y/L/N,” he tells you, both of you nodding. You were about to tell him goodbye, missing your chance when he says, “Do you think I could meet your new guy?”

You feel your breath stop for a moment, your eyes going wide at the thought of your ‘ex’ meeting your boyfriend. “Uh, sure, if you want to?” you tell him, obviously unsure of the situation that was about to unfold. “Vince?” you snap his attention away from his phone, the two of you standing over him. “This is my friend Jack. We went to school together,” you say, Jack extending his hand for Vince to shake.

Vince swallows hard, a wave of jealousy washing over him as this guy stands in front of him. “Nice to meet you,” he says, a cold tone in his voice. You shoot him a look, Jack taking your seat while Vince pulls you into his lap without you expecting it, planting a firm kiss on your lips. “So, Jack, what do you do?” he asks the guy sitting across from you, holding you tight around your waist as if he were marking his territory.

You look at your boyfriend, confused by why he was acting like this. He sends you a soft smile, his eyes flickering down to your lips, making you melt a little as you turn your attention back to Jack. “I work in marketing.”

“Oh, just like, my girl here.”

‘My girl?’ you mouth to yourself, unsure if either of the boys saw you.

“That’s how we met,” Jack starts, a little confused as well by Vince’s actions. “We were both marketing majors so we had all of the same classes.”

Vince keeps on asking Jack questions, practically leaving you out of the conversation, occasionally kissing your cheek while Jack was talking.

“Wow, you two are clearly in love with each other,” Jack points out, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Vince freezes, his heart racing against your chest as Jack gets up. “I’ve actually got to get going, but it was great seeing you, Y/N. We should catch up again.”

You nod, agreeing with him as he leaves, taking your seat back across from Vince, glaring at him. “What the hell was that?”

“What? I can’t kiss your cheek occasionally?” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. You watch as he stares out the window, Jack still in his view.

“You never do it like that,” you point out. Then it dawns on you: “You were jealous! Why were you jealous?”

“I was not,” he pouts, his arms crossed.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous!” you squeal, careful not to be too loud in the quiet environment. His face turns red, his lips pursed as he stares out the window, clearly ready to deny it. You reach over to poke his cheeks, just to agitate him.

He swats you away, hating that you were right. “You think I’m cute?”

“Why were you jealous?” you ask again.

“You think I’m cute?” he says, leaning on the table.

You smirk at him, imitating his body language. “We both know I’m going to win this so you should just answer me now,” you say slowly.

“He’s the guy you dated in college,” Vince says.

“I never showed you his picture.”

He hesitates for a moment, knowing the exact reaction this was going to illicit: “I saw the pictures you posted with him on Instagram.”

You stop and think for a moment. The last time you even saw Jack was a few years ago. “Those pictures were from my freshman year of college. You’ve scrolled that far back on my page?”

He sticks out his bottom lip, eyes wide to give you his puppy dog face. “Sometimes, when I miss you, and I know you’re busy and can’t talk, I scroll through your Instagram so I can see your face.”

You feel yourself melting at his words, the face he was giving you making you love him that much more. “Come here,” you tell him, pulling him up around the table. You take him by the collar down to your level, giving him a sweet kiss. “And, yes, I do think you’re really cute,” you say to him, kissing him again.

Vince watched in awe at his teammates. All of them were drunk, him, for once, being the most sober one around as they entered the bye week that took place around All-Star Weekend. He was waiting for you to show up, anxiously checking his phone to see if you had texted him anything saying that you and Patricia were at the bar. He hated being the only sober one, especially since it meant he would have to play dad if something happened unless you two showed up soon.

“You’re not drinking?” Sammy asks him, two beers in hand. Someone would think one was for Vince, but, no, both were for Sammy as he put the openings of both bottles in his mouth at once.

“I’m waiting for Y/N.”

“You’re whipped!” Sammy slurs, sitting down next to his friend in the booth he was refusing to get up from while he anxiously shakes his leg waiting to see you, rolling his eyes even though part of him knew he was right.

“Stop that,” Vince says, getting up and trying to shake his friend off in the crowded bar.

“You love her, right? I mean you have to love her to be like this,” Sammy insists, something he wouldn’t be doing had he not been drunk. Vince opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted. “Dude.”

“You know I can’t say it,” is all Vince can let out. Sammy knows his past, Sammy knows what has happened to Vince. Saying it would mess something up. Those eight letters would ruin what he had with you when they were out in the open.

“I don’t know how to talk about this with you,” Sammy admits, eyes narrow since he was thinking about it anyway.

“I don’t think I want to talk about this with you.”

Before Sammy can say anything else, like magic, you appear at his side, Patricia in tow. “Hey,” you say to him, kissing him as he wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls away, looking over your shoulder to see Sammy making faces at the two of you, Vince giving him a look that told him to go away without you noticing.

Patricia wanders off with Sammy, leaving the two of you by yourselves. “How far deep are they?” you ask, dragging him to the bar so the two of you could start drinking, knowing you couldn’t drink so much that you would catch up with them, but enough that you wouldn’t have to act as the mother of the group.

“We’ve been here for an hour so I expect someone to be throwing up soon,” he laughs, not dropping your hand when the two of you sit down.

“If you’re drunk, do you have to take care of them?” you ask him, signalling to the bartender to come take your drink orders. You fall into conversation, watching Sammy strike out with multiple girls, Patricia spending the entire night with a single guy following her, something she clearly enjoyed as she milked at least four free drinks out of him.

“Think she’ll go home with him?” Vince asks, nodding over to Patricia as he finishes what might have been this third drink that night. As far as he knew, no one was throwing up, but now, he didn’t have to worry about it if he was just a little drunk.

You shrug, putting down your now empty glass. “If they both want that I guess.” You could feel yourself getting bored and tired, wishing that you and Vince could just leave and go home yourselves. But he looked like he was having fun watching the guys, a smile on his face whenever they did something stupid. You study Vinces face, his slightly pursed lips and his eyes sparkling as he watched Sammy strike out with what was probably his fourth girl of the night, Vince smiling as he couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. Your attentioned is pulled away by your phone buzzing in your hand, Nikki bombarding you with texts.

‘Have Vince watch these with you ;)’

She sends you two clips, both from a Halloween episode of New Girl. Unfamiliar with the show, you tap Vince to have him watch over your shoulder. You watch the two girls get into a limo, one going as far as exclaiming, “Hey, look! I’m in a limo! I wish I could have really long legs so I could stretch them out the length of the limo!”

The camera switches to a guy, telling them to have fun, saying, “I love you,” an immediate look of regret washing over his face, the girl in the limo responding with finger guns while her friend behind her mouthed, ‘No.’

You swallow hard, texting Nikki back yelling at her for it, definitely partially a product of the alcohol. You don’t even bother to look at the second video, afraid of what it would be and what it would bring considering the first one brought an awkward silence in the middle of the loud bar.

“Did you tell them?” he asks quietly, sitting back down next to you.

You straighten your posture, forming a thin line with your lips. “Yeah. I did. It was bothering me more than I thought it would and they figured it out.”

“How would they figure it out?” he snaps, his voice a little louder than it would have been had he not had so much to drink. “That’s not something you can just read on someone’s face.”

You take in a deep breath, knowing that people were starting to turn to look at the fight you were about to have. “Come on,” you grab him by his arm, leading him outside so at least if you started really fighting, they couldn’t kick you out. “Look, we were watching something where someone said I love you and the other person didn’t and I started crying,” you explain to him, feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

The people around you in the city were staring as they walked by, two idiots on a weird night causing a scene in a public. “Y/N,” he says, taking a step towards you and reaching for your hand.

You snatch it away, startling him that you were so quick. “No, Vince. I know I said it was fine,” you sob, “But it hurts. It hurts to love someone who doesn’t love you back. And I know you’ve been hurt before, but you’re letting that get in the way of you and me, and I don’t know how much longer I can handle being in love with you when you won’t even say you love me.”

He drops his head down, tears falling down his face while you were trying to fight your own from falling. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for being afraid, but I am.”

“Do you love me?” you ask him, taking a step towards him.

He looks up at you, both of you crying. His eyes are red, he looks like he’s in pain. He tries to say something, only to shake his head, taking you in for a hug before either of you can do anything else. You can feel him crying in your shoulder, one hand in your hair, the other at the top of your back. You stand there for a moment in shock, not sure how to react. You react into his hold, trying to calm him down. You had never seen him cry like this before, in fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him cry at all. You pull his head off your shoulder. His face soaked with tears. “I think you need to go home,” you tell him, wiping the tears from his face.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulling you in for another hug when the guys and Patricia stumble out of the bar. “Hey, we’re going to go to another bar,” Patricia tells you as you shake your head, signalling that she shouldn’t ask what was going on. “Do you guys want to come?”

“We can?” Vince questions, only looking at you, his face still red from the sobbing he had just done. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“You go with them. I’ll be fine, I want to go home anyway,” you insist, trying to push him off you. If there was one thing you hated, it was the kind of girls who made their boyfriends miss out on things with their friends because they insisted on attention, but you also didn’t want to be with him at this moment.

He smiles at you as you try to force yourself to not succumb to his looks, refusing to let go of you, “It’s not worth going with them if you aren’t going to be there with me.”

“Then don’t go. I’m going home.” You break free of his grip, turning on your heels and walking down the street to go home by yourself.

+one

“Dude, have you seen Nikki’s snapstory?” Sammy’s voice comes through Vince’s phone.

“No, why?”

The concern in Sammy’s voice resonated with Vince, “I think you need to go look.”

Vince puts his teammate on speaker to go find one of your best friend’s story. “I’m looking now, hold on.”

Nikki was in her car, a picture of your favorite flowers in front of her steering wheel, your apartment building in the background. She had captioned it with ‘Bought my best friend flowers to go tell her I love her because her boyfriend won’t say it.’

“Ah, fuck,” Vince mutters, closing out the app.

“What are you gonna do about this?”

“I gotta go,” he says, hanging up before Sammy can say anything else.

-------

You run to the door when you hear the knocking, hoping it was Vince since you hadn’t heard much from him since that night at the bar. Instead, you find Nikki standing in your doorway with your favorite flowers. “What are these?” you deadpan, still a little irritated with her.

“Vince won’t say I love you so I figured I would,” she tells you, kissing you on the cheek and brushing past you. “I love you!” she says, dramatically, plopping down on your couch and putting her feet on your coffee table.

You look at the flowers, biting your lip. You just wanted Vince to say it. But you get it. “They’re just eight letters. He doesn’t have to say it when he can just show it. And you sending that video the other night does not and will not help anything,” you scold her.

You hear her scoff as you go to put the flowers in some water. “You know I was right to send that video. How does he show you he loves you? How could he possibly tell you he loves you without saying ‘I love you?’”

Rolling your eyes, knowing that she’s seen him show you loves you plenty of times. You could either argue with her more over what she did, or just list the ways you knew she was already aware of. “He always makes sure I’m the last person he sends a text to or calls at night and the first person he does that with in the morning. Even if he wakes up in the middle of the night and answers someone else, he’ll still send me another text right after. He’ll give me his pickle whenever he gets them because he knows I love them, even though he does, too. If he sees something on the road that he thinks I’ll like he gets it for me to surprise me with when he comes home.” You can feel yourself starting to cry thinking of all the way Vince has shown he loves you. But you really just wanted to hear those three words. You just wanted that verbal confirmation from him.

“I mean, babe, that’s great, but if he really meant it, wouldn’t he say it?”

You join her on the couch, trying to figure out how to answer. “Not everyone is good with expressing their emotions with words,” you shrug, unable to look at whatever expression she had on her face. “He’s been hurt before, when he’s told a girl that he loved her. I understand why he wouldn’t want to flat out say it to me.”

You get up, going back to your kitchen to at least fake the need for a glass of water. “Well, what else does he do?” you hear Nikki call over the sound of your tap.

You swallow, unsure if listing the ways was making you happy or sad. “He asks me to call him when I get home so he knows I’m safe. He’ll snapchat me funny faces when I’m sad because he wants to see me smile. He’ll even leave the guys if I’m upset and stay on Facetime with me until I’m happy. When we’re in the car he has my playlist on because he wants to listen to my music because it makes me happy. He doesn’t have to tell me he loves me.”

“Yes he does,” you hear from the other room, a voice that wasn’t Nikki’s. You see Vince standing there, bags in hand, Nikki slinking away into the other room to give you privacy.

“Hey, babe, what are you doing here?” you ask him, giving him a kiss for the first time in what felt like forever, trying to take the bags from him when he pulls away. The two of you walk over to your couch, setting the bags down and hearing clinking from inside. “Can I look inside?”

“No, not yet,” he stops you, taking your hands in his to prevent you from reaching in. “I’ll get everything out. Just, just trust me.” He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “I told you I couldn’t say...it because of the girls I’ve said it to before. And god, I’m the worst for not saying it. But you deserve so much more.”

“Vince, what are you talking about? I don’t need mo-”

He cuts you off, handing you the first thing in the bag. A bottle of your favorite wine, a note taped to it. “You’re my partner in wine,” you read out to him, laughing at the goofy grin on his face telling you that he was proud of himself.

A bag of your favorite coffee grounds is placed in your hands next. “Words can not espresso how much you bean to me.”

A can of your favorite soup. “I ‘canned’ live without you.”

A snack pack of pudding. “Thanks for pudding up with me.”

There was food item after food item with a note taped to it with a different pun revolving around what he thought about you. He went to the grocery store for all your favorites, handing them to you one by one until he gave you the last item in the bags: a bar of your favorite cheese. “Sorry about being so cheesy.”

You look at him, seeing the embarrassed look on his face. His cheeks were red, unable to make eye contact with you but smiling anyway. “Well, now I don’t have to go grocery shopping,” you joke, him laughing along with you, “Vince, I love this.”

“And I love you.”

You can’t help the smile on your face, staring into his green eyes as his expression mirrors yours. “Really? I mean, I knew,” you explain, “But I didn’t think you’d say it. Why now?”

He smiles at you, taking your hands in his. “Because Nikki shouldn’t have to tell you she loves you because I can’t.”

“You’re welcome!” you hear Nikki yell from your room, both of you laughing.

“Oh my god,” he lets out at her obvious eavesdropping, his eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. “It’s not fair to you that you told me how you felt and I couldn’t tell you how I really felt.”

“Vince, you don’t have to apologize,” you try to tell him.

“No, no. I do,” he says, dropping your hands and cupping your face. His thumb traces along your cheekbones as he keeps going. “I chose shitty girls before you, and them hurting me ending up hurting you. I love you, and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to say it. You’re the only one I’ve ever really loved.” He pulls you in for a kiss, soft and sweet.

“I love you, too.”

#vince dunn #vince dunn imagines #dunner #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Note

Not sure if you’re still taking prompts, but if you are I’ve got something for you: In light of spooky season, I present to you modern au roommates having a scary movie/show night (watching Netflix’s Haunting of Hill House or Bly Manor or something) in which GERALT is the one too spooked to sleep alone. But he’s Geralt, so it’s not like he’ll actually ask for company. Jaskier is perceptive, though, and realizes what’s going on.

OK I really hate horror films and I have never actually watched one. What I have watched is Doctor Who... so... Weeping Angels anyone? Have fun! (Also on AO3) _______________________________

Geralt wasn’t sure why Jaskier always chose horror movies. He hated horror movies. He always squeaked at the jump scares and ended up in Geralt’s lap. Geralt didn’t mind horror movies particularly. The jump scares did fuck all to frighten him and if he was being honest he quite liked having the excuse to hold Jaskier in his arms. They had been best friends since university and it had made sense for them to continue living together once they’d graduated. The economy was shit and if Jaskier wanted to pursue his dreams of becoming a musician then he needed a housemate. As for Geralt, after his explosive break up with their other best friend, Yennefer, he hadn’t really felt like living alone.

So they’d moved in together.

And every Friday was movie night. They took turns in choosing the film and Jaskier always chose a horror film. Tonight was no different and Jaskier was shaking in his arms like a flower in the wind, fitting he supposed.

“Oh shit!!” Jaskier moaned as the statues moved closer to the house. The poor protagonist had taken her eyes off them to check on her friend. “Geralt!”

Geralt rolled his eyes but threaded his hands through Jaskier’s hair and placed a kiss on his friend’s temple. The first time he’d done that a month ago he’d panicked. It had been an accident but it had settled Jaskier’s nerves better than anything else he’d tried. Jaskier hadn’t mentioned it so small kisses to Jaskier’s hair and forehead had just become another part of their friendship. “It’s worse if you don’t look.” He murmured. “They are only still when we’re looking at them.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier pressed his face against Geralt’s chest and his fingers clawed at Geralt’s hoody. “That’s only for the characters.” He mumbled, his voice muffled by Geralt’s clothes.

Geralt tilted his head and peered at the screen. The statue was still and unmoving but none of the characters were looking at it. It was only stone because the camera was looking at it. He said as much to Jaskier who just groaned and held him tighter.

“Fuck you, Geralt. You just had to go and make it worse!” Jaskier grumbled.

“You wanted to watch it.”

“Fuck off!”

Jaskier didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the film. On the rare occasion he did peek at the screen through his hands, he squeaked and snuggled back into Geralt’s chest. Geralt kept a hand in Jaskier’s hair and murmured reassurances at him as he watched the film. The plot moved slowly, unlike the statues, as the characters were sent back in time one by one until only two of them remained. The statues then started to mess with the lights in their quest to get to some powerful artefact that would allow them to take over the universe.

The two remaining characters screamed as they were left at the mercy of the four statues creeping towards them as the lights flickered on and off. Geralt had to admit even he had goosebumps and his heart was racing faster in his chest.

“Fuck.” He mumbled not able to tear his eyes from the screen as if that would help the characters.

“Oh gods, if you’re saying that it must be bad.” Jaskier moaned against his chest.

“You’re not even watching.” Geralt grumbled. “I’ll turn it off.”

“Oh no! Nooo no no.” Jaskier protested. “I’m still listening! I want to know what happens!” He peered up at Geralt with those glimmering blue eyes that haunted Geralt’s dreams.

Fuck he was so beautiful.

A loud bang on the screen broke the moment and they both jumped to face the television. Jaskier immediately curled back against Geralt’s chest. Geralt was almost tempted to hide in Jaskier’s hair but he couldn’t do that. He was the strong one. He protected Jaskier so he kept his eyes fixed on the screen until the credits began to roll. The protagonist had ended up sobbing over her lost friends alone in her apartment, the universe had been saved but at what cost.

Geralt felt strangely moved by the whole thing. Jaskier was still nestled in his arms, safe and asleep. Geralt finally allowed himself to nuzzle against Jaskier’s soft hair, inhaling his calming chamomile scent. Fuck he didn’t want to be alone like she had been. What was the point of living if everyone you loved was taken from you?

Geralt’s heart was still racing and not even Jaskier scent was helping to calm his nerves.

“Fuck.” He groaned as quietly as he could but even that was too loud. Jaskier had always been a light sleeper unless he was sick.

“Geralt? Oh shit. Did I miss the end?” He rubbed his eyes and peered sleepily at the blank screen of the television. Geralt hummed in agreement. “Oh. Well you’ll have to tell me what happened in the morning.” Jaskier sighed and started to extract himself from Geralt’s arms.

Geralt felt himself tense up as Jaskier stood up. Shit. He’d never felt this bad after a film before. His jaw clenched as he watched Jaskier head towards his bedroom. Fucking idiot hadn’t even watched the film, of course he would rest easy tonight in blissful ignorance.

At the last moment Jaskier turned and glanced over his shoulder. His bright smile fell from his face when his eyes met Geralt’s. “Geralt? Are you alright?”

Geralt’s hands were tight fists by his side, nails digging into his palms. He glowered at Jaskier. “I’m fine.”

Jaskier tilted his head and put a hand on his hip. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’m fine, Jaskier.” He snapped.

Jaskier scoffed and pranced back over to sit back down on the sofa. “You’re fine.” He sang, clearly not believing Geralt.

“Hmm.”

“But I am not fine!” Jaskier announced and draped himself across Geralt’s lap. Geralt tried to glare at him but he was pleased to have his friend back in his arms. “Cuddle me.” Jaskier rolled onto his back and pouted up at Geralt, his head resting in Geralt’s lap whilst his legs sprawled out over the sofa cushions.

Geralt smirked and rolled his eyes. “You won’t sleep like that.”

“I will!” Jaskier’s lower lip jutted out and Geralt had to grit his teeth to stop himself from leaning down and kissing his friend. Did he have to be so goddamn cute all the time?

“You won’t.” Geralt insisted firmly, ruffling Jaskier’s hair. “You’ll wake up if I so much as breathe too heavily”

Jaskier huffed. “Well I’m not sleeping alone, not after that monstrosity.” He gestured wildly to the television.

“You can sleep in my room.” Geralt suggested with a faint smile that he was trying to hide. “If you want.” He added just to be sure.

Jaskier beamed up at him like he was the sun itself. “My hero!”

“Now get off so we can get to bed.” Geralt grumbled. His heart was still racing but it had little to do with the film anymore and everything to do with the way Jaskier’s eyes were shining with open affection.

Jaskier pouted. “Carry me?”

“What?” Geralt groaned, exasperated by his friend.

“I’m tired!” He whined. “Please?”

Geralt sighed but shifted Jaskier in his lap so he was able to scoop him up bridal style. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and placed a kiss to his cheek.

Well that was new.

Geralt smiled softly at the brunet in his arms. “What was that for?”

“Because, my darling, you are my hero and every hero deserves a kiss.” Jaskier answered with a disarming smile.

“Is that so?” He hummed as a thought began to grow in his mind.

Jaskier laughed and kissed his cheek again. “And that one is for being so strong and carrying me to my room.”

“I think I deserve one for ordering dinner.” Geralt suggested and Jaskier’s eyes lit up.

“Oh darling, how could I forget?” Jaskier kissed him again, this time barely a centimetre from his lips. “Oh and one for letting me share your bed.” Jaskier moved in slower this time and Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. It took all his strength not to drop him as Jaskier’s lips hovered over his. “May I?”

Geralt didn’t answer. There was no need, not when Jaskier’s lips were so close. Their noses bumped together as their lips finally met. Jaskier’s hand gripped tighter on Geralt’s hoody and Geralt kicked open his bedroom door, not wanting to break the kiss. He’d spent so long wishing that he could have this that he wasn’t going to miss a single moment.

Jaskier seemed to be similarly inclined, moaning as Geralt lowered him onto the bed. When they finally had to break apart to breath, Jaskier began to laugh, his beautiful musical laugh. Geralt sat back on his ankles and gave Jaskier a puzzled look.

“What?”

Jaskier propped himself up on one elbow and reached out for Geralt’s hand. “I’m just happy, my dear. You should always laugh when you’re happy.”

Geralt chuckled. “Hmm. Well then I’m happy too.”

Jaskier licked his lips and gave him a mischievous smile. “Even if I made you watch the scary film?”

“Wasn’t scared.”

“Oh yeah sure.” Jaskier drawled. “I believe you.”

“I was protecting you!” Geralt growled.

Jaskier sighed and fell back on the bed. “You were ever so brave, dear heart.”

God he was insufferable. Geralt had to wonder whether he was mad, wanting Jaskier like he did. He just never shut up….

Except when they were kissing…

Geralt grinned and lunged forwards to capture Jaskier’s lips once more. It was what the hero deserved after all. ______________________

Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier panktraz #geraskier fanfiction #hurt/comfort #snuggles #friends to lovers #modern AU #wolfie's witcher writing #Anonymous

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outerbankspreferences · 4 years

Text

Boat Day

2197

JJ MAYBANKS x READER (PRE RELATIONSHIP)

WORD COUNT: 2197

WARNINGS: underage drinking, drugs, language.

A/N: Y/N stands for Your Name and Y/L/N stands for Your Last Name. This is my first story, so send me some request!

Summers in the Outer Banks are the best. The days are long, the water’s warm and the fun never ends. The best thing about living here are my friends. We call ourselves the Pouges. A handed down name on this island for as long as I can remember. The Pouges are the poor kids. Work for a living to help your parents, cause trouble to have great memories to look back on when you’re older, but most importantly, a family. A lot of us don’t really have one of those. Our parents are to busy working for the Kooks to have time to spend with us.

It was another typical morning on the banks. I was getting ready to go out on the boat with my friends. It was a rare day that we all had no work and nothing to do. I was packing my cooler full of food and drinks because it was my turn to feed everyone. I was wearing my favorite t-shirt dress and I had my hair in a low ponytail and sunglasses on, my go to when it was this hot out. I was walking onto the back porch the led to our dock right as the boat was pulling up.

“Top of the morning to ya’ sailors.” I greeted my friends. John B was at the wheel slowing down so I can hop on, Kiara was taking the cooler out of my hand and Pope was still reading. I turned to the back of the boat and saw JJ laying there, hat over his head. “What’s his problem?” I ask motioning to JJ. “He drank a little too much last night, and is now nursing a hangover.” John B explains. “Isn’t he always hungover? Here JJ I have something that will fix you, it’s my moms favorite cure.-“Oh yeah, what is it? Advil? ‘Cause I already popped like three of those before you got here.” JJ responded not moving the hat. I pulled another drink out of my cooler. “No silly, it’s to keep drinking. Can’t get a hangover if your always drunk.” JJ moved his hat slightly, looking up at me squinting, sits up takes the drink and smiles. “can’t argue with that logic.” He responds.

I finish passing the rest of the drinks out as John B steered towards the marsh with sun on our backs warming up to be a good day. As we get to our usual spot, Pope throws the anchor down and looks at me “What kinda’ sandwiches did you pack Y/N?” as he rummaged to the bottom knowing I kept them there so they would stay cold. “I packed PB&J for me and you, cucumber for our dear vegetarian Kie, and ham and cheese for these dorks.” He smiled, I always pack everyone’s favourite snacks. “That’s why we keep you around” Pope responds. I gasp, “what?” I ask dramatically. “and here I thought it was my charming personality and good looks.” Everyone starts to laugh, “Sorry sweetheart, but I already took that roll” JJ says to me with a pat on my back. I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Yeah whatever helps you sleep at night J” Kie says laughing with me. “wouldn’t you like to know” he says with wink. My heart flutters. That wink kills me every time.

I’ve had a thing for JJ since we started hanging out together. My family moved here in the eighth grade and I became friends with Kiara. We met volley ball tryouts, quickly becoming friends as if we’d know each other our whole lives. She introduced me to the Pouges, and the rest was history. When Kie started her Kook year, Pope helped me find my way around the school, and lucky for me, JJ always not to far behind.

After we’ve all had something to eat and smoked a couple of blunts it was time to go swimming. Everybody starts taking there clothes off, and jumps in. As I’m taking my dress off I can feel JJ’s eye on me. That’s when I remember I’m wearing a new bathing suit. It’s a simple pink bikini but it shows a bit more of my cleavage then normal. “That’s so cute Y/N! Where did you get it?” Kie asks while my head is stuck in my dress. “At that boutique-for fuck sakes-you know the new one-“Here let me help” I feel a pair of hands grip the dress and a small laugh, and I know the second I hear it , that JJ is coming to my rescue. My breath hitches when his hands brush against my back side. The heat of his hands linger for a minute, “You’re a dysfunctional mess Y/L/N, probably lose your head if it wasn’t attached.” JJ spoke, everyone laughing along with him. “Real comedian you are Jim Carry, I’ll have to come to one of your shows-anyways as I was saying, I’m borrowing it from the boutique that just opened on Main Street.” I tell Kie, “Do they know you’re borrowing it?”. She knew me too well. It was small habit of mind to shoplift clothes. We couldn’t really afford new ones, and I hated asking my parents for one. “No they don’t know I’m borrowing, but I’ll fix the tag when I’m done with it and return it. No one will the wiser” She scuffs at my answer. I take that opportunity to jump in the water with them.

After swimming and another round of snacking and smoking the sun is starting to set, and we are turning the boat around to head home. “Hey Y/N, do you work tomorrow?” JJ asks me. We work at the country club together. I work in housekeeping, and he works in the kitchen doing a little bit of everything. “Yeah I do, 8 to 4 cleaning the discharges. What about you?” I ask him knowing where this is going. I always pick JJ up on my way if we’re working the same shifts. Someone was to make sure he makes it there. “I go for 9 and work a 12 hour shift, think I can bunk at your place? Is your mom working night shift?” My mom is a nurse at the E.R. and when she’s not home I let him spend the night with me. My dad is away on a fishing trip so no one would know he’s there. “Yeah she’s leaving for work at 7 if you want to sleep on the couch. Just don’t smoke in the house this time. My dad could smell the weed when he got home” “sure thing”.

John B stops at Kie’s first, she’s the only one with a curfew for being out late one to many times. “Alright losers, thanks for the day, I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow. John B are you still coming by the wreck in the morning?” Kie asks him and I look at Pope, I can see him roll his eyes under his sunglasses. I was under strict orders from him not to say anything about his crush in her. “Of course, do you think you’re dad will still want me picking up shifts there, it’ll get DCS off my case for a little while.”. Kiara’s dad offered to help John B out after Big John went missing a couple of months ago. DCS was been on his case about his uncle and the bills. “He said he needed the help with the summer season starting, Charlie Hanson quit last week for his band so we’re short a dish washer” Pope finally looks up from the book he’s reading, “I’ll sleep at your place tonight and help you write resume out for him.” John B smiled at Pope. “Thanks man, I really need your wisdom” Everyone laughs. Kie gets off the boat and waves goodbye to everyone. “Next stop the Y/L/N home” JJ says, “I’m so tired I could fall asleep right here” He motions to the front of the boat. Dramatically laying across the hard plastic. It’s grown colder now that the sun has set and with that wind picks up. I’m only in my dress from earlier, cursing myself for not bringing a sweater. “Christ John can this bucket of bolts go any faster, I’m freezing my ass off” I ask with a hint of sarcasm. Moments later I watch JJ sigh deeply and throw a towel over in my direction. “You’re lucky I was too hungover to go swimming, that should keep you warm. We’re almost there.” After a short distance and many laughs we’re finally pulling up to the dock. I look up to my house, and see that my mom left the light outside on, she knew me to well. I hated walking up the yard in the dark. JJ grabs the cooler and waves goodbye to Pope and John B as they sail away.

I wave goodbye to them and turn around to see that JJ is already half way up the yard. “JJ wait up, I only have little legs!” It was our inside joke, we both love watching full house, and he was quite taller then me so I could never keep up. He was quiet the short walk up to the house holding the door open for me. As we walk into my kitchen, I lock the door, and turn the outside light off. “Do you want the first shower J?” I ask him walking to the closet to pull out the extra blankets for him to sleep with. I could hear him opening the fridge. “No, you take the first shower and use the hot water. I don’t want to listen to you complain about me using all the hot water again.” I couldn’t argue with that. My house had shit warm water. Normally enough for a quick shower, and then taking forever to reheat. After putting the blankets on the couch, I look at JJ coming out of the kitchen with just his swim trunks on. “I’m taking a cold shower anyways, it’s hot in here.” He comments taking another drink of his water. I smile and nod to him, walking to my room to get some clothes. I grab the towel from the closest hallway and a pair of pajama’s walking into the bathroom. I start the water and hop in washing my hair and body. Once I’m done I get out of shower throw my hair in a bun and get changed. I walk into the living and JJ is siting there rolling a joint and watching tv. “Did your mom upgrade from cable because I don’t remember you having this channel” he asked not looking up from his joint. Eyebrows knitted together in concentration. “Yeah she complained about the bill being to high, and they gave some extra channels for being loyal customers or something like that” I look at what he’s watching. National Geographic. “JJ since when have you liked national geographic? What are you even watching? Is that Naked and Afraid?” You hit the guide to confirm that he’s actually watching it. “Yeah, I thought it was actually going to show them naked, not blur all the good stuff. Too PG if your asking me. What’s the point of calling the show Naked and afraid if you don’t actually see them naked?” He did make a good point, honestly I never watch any the television, always opting for Netflix. “I don’t know why the call it that. But you should go shower, its getting late and we both have to work early. Do you want me to wake you up when I get up?” I ask walking into the kitchen to get myself a drink. “No you wake up at the ass crack of dawn, just wake me up before you go I’ll sleep in the car until its time for work” JJ calls as I hear him shut the door to the bathroom. Once I hear the water running, I sigh and start making the couch up for him. I grab some of the pillows from my room, and take his rolled joint and put it in baggie with his other. I put his book bag by the couch and a clean pair of shorts he left from last time.

As I’m getting into bed, I can hear the shower turn off, and shortly after the door open. As I’m lying in bed thinking about the day staring at the ceiling, I can hear JJ rummaging around the living room. My heartbeat quickens thinking that he’s in the other room. I wish I could get the courage to tell him how I feel, but the rules say other wise. When Pope told me about his crush, that’s what he said to me. “remember those stupid no pouge on pouge macking rules.” A small mantra as to not ruin our friendship together. As I’m slowing drifting off to sleep I can hear JJ call from the other room, “goodnight Y/N” and I fall asleep with a smile on my face and pain in my heart knowing the man I love is another room and not with me.

#jj outer banks #jjmaybanks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #john b outer banks #outer banks #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagines #rudy pankow x reader

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