#but the morning at least... im going to sleep in... and it will be Decadent.......

[orcelito]

Lying down to go to sleep and realizing I can actually sleep in for the first time in Too Long..... 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - the price of desire (part one)

warnings ; none!

prompt ; in which you learn that your dignity has a price, and unfortunately, it looks a lot like Jeon Jungkook in Calvin Klein boxers.

note ; WELL WELL WELL my angels. we are back with ANOTHER series <3 i am not kidding, this story has had me tossing and turning and screaming and crying. they are such a nuanced duo(even more so than utcf) and if you know me, you know i only write characters that are flawed af and boy… do these two have flaws. also so excited bc my dream is to be a CMO so all that marketing jargon is literally ripped from my real life. this is def a slower burn more than utcf even was, so part one is just getting to know reader, a glimpse into jk and hers future dynamic. it will be giving cocky idol and grumpy girl boss reader… yall hate to see it.. anywho all your love and support is so appreciated and im SO excited to kick this one off <3

playlist here

series masterlist here

You learned at an early age that the world doesn’t hand power to people like you. You have to take it.

Born in Busan, raised in a home where every won had to stretch, you grew up with a hunger that never faded. Your parents worked tirelessly; it was long hours in dimly lit shops, silent tears in the living room over bills, doing everything they could to put food on the table. They wanted stability for you, a quiet life where everything was paid on time and there was no need to chase the impossible.

But you weren’t built for small dreams.

At 17, you won a coveted scholarship to a university in Seoul, a golden ticket out of the cycle that kept your family trapped. There, you became relentless. Top of your class, the kind of student professors whispered about, the one who never failed, never wavered. But no amount of late-night studying or overachieving could buy you the connections that children of chaebol heirs and international elites were born into.

So, you had to outwork them. By the time you graduated, you had one goal: to carve your name into an industry that had no place for you. You moved to America, leaving behind familiarity, comfort, and even your family, knowing that to rise, you had to go where power lived.

New York City became your battlefield.

You started at the bottom, fetching coffees, ghostwriting proposals, working eighteen-hour days just to prove you deserved to be in the same rooms as people who had never known struggle. You didn’t just climb the corporate ladder; you burned every rung behind you so there was no way back down.

It took a decade, but now the plaque hangs on the wall. The name plate rings true of all your dreams. You are the Chief Marketing Officer of Calvin Klein.

At 30, you sit at the helm of one of the most influential luxury brands in the world, the architect of campaigns that have redefined fashion and culture. Your name carries weight in boardrooms, your decisions shift global trends, and every executive in the industry knows you are untouchable.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

In a world like this, power is never permanent. The moment you hesitate, falter, let someone too close, they will take everything.

All that to say — Monday mornings in New York almost always smell like steel and ambition.

The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the glass walls of your office, the pulse of the city thrumming beneath you, yellow cabs blurring past, heels clicking against concrete, the quiet hum of wealth without ever making a sound. You barely had time to sleep after landing from Los Angeles last night, but exhaustion has never been an excuse.

You straighten your blazer, heels clicking against the marble floors as you stride into the Calvin Klein executive boardroom. The space is drenched in morning light, the Hudson River glinting in the distance, but there’s no warmth. Sharp minds and even sharper tongues, all waiting for you to take your seat at the head of the table.

“Let’s get started.” Your voice is crisp, cutting through the murmurs as the team scrambles to attention. Coffee cups are set down, postures shift. The room belongs to you now, like it always does.

This is your campaign, your bread and butter — the Fall Collection, one of the biggest of the year. And today, the decision needs to be made. Who will be the face of it? You’ve put it off as long as possible, especially after the last campaign that had you sleeping, eating and breathing the word ROI.

A junior executive clears his throat, flipping through a stack of polished portfolios. “We’ve compiled a list of potential candidates. Some of the usual names, established actors, a few models with strong followings…”

You take the folder from him, skimming past faces that blur into one another, all predictable choices, safe bets. Safe has never impressed you.

“We’re not looking for predictable,” you say, voice even. “We need someone who will shift the culture. Someone who doesn’t just wear the clothes, but makes people desperate to buy them.”

Silence. Then, the suggestions roll in. A high-profile supermodel. A rising actor from a Netflix hit. Some European footballer with global appeal.

You listen, nodding as they speak, but your silence is judgment. Each name is good but not enough. Polished and uninspired, in your opinion.

You shoot them down effortlessly. “No. We’ve used her before.

No. He doesn’t have the presence.

No. I don’t need another pretty face.”

The tension in the room grows. The team knows you expect brilliance, not silly little recycled ideas.

Then, your VP of Content leans forward, fingers steepled. “I have a name,” He says, measured, waiting for your reaction.

You lift a brow. “Then say it.”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

For the first time, there’s a halt of all noise. Light murmurs. Someone exhales sharply. You hear a scoff from the far end of the table.

“A Korean idol?” One of the senior execs frowns. “That’s a different market entirely.”

“Not just any idol,” your VP counters. “The biggest. Pretty much the frontman of BTS. His brand power is—”

“Unmatched,” You finish for him.

Because it is. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just a name, he’s a phenomenon. A face that sells out stadiums in minutes, a body carved in discipline, a force that transcends the music industry entirely.

Still, the pushback is immediate “Well, he’s never fronted a campaign of this scale.

Idol endorsements don’t always translate to luxury.

Do we want to take that kind of risk?”

Risk.

The word hangs in the air heavily. It should deter you. It should make you pause. But instead, you find yourself a tad intrigued.

What is Calvin Klein, if not bold? If not disruptive? The brand has always thrived on rebellion, on choosing icons that define eras rather than follow them.

Jeon Jungkook is undeniably that. Perhaps, so are you.

You let the murmurs settle before speaking. “What’s our engagement rate from the last campaign?” You ask, looking towards the analytics team.

“Thirty percent growth,” They answer immediately.

“And what’s BTS’s engagement on a single brand mention?”

A pause. A begrudging voice follows, “Higher.”

Exactly.

You glance around the room, seeing the uncertainty and hesitation. You’re about to give a speech greater than LeBron at the NBA Finals. You lean back in your chair, tapping a manicured nail against the armrest, already picturing it, the campaign, the impact, the sheer cultural shift this could create.

“I like it.”

Silence.

A ripple of realization moves through the room, as if with just three words, the decision has already been made.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Securing a global superstar isn’t an easy task, not even for you. The next few days are a relentless blur of negotiations, contract rewrites, and back-to-back Zoom calls with a team so notoriously meticulous it nearly drives your own to the brink of madness.

The stakes are high. Deals like this don’t just happen. They are built, fought for, and secured with precision. And Calvin Klein doesn’t like to lose.

Your office pretty much transforms into a war room. Tables littered with printed pitch decks. Screens glowing with data analytics, engagement metrics, and market predictions. Your executives pouring over legal clauses, revising them so every word is airtight.

In the center of it all, you stand. Any normal human would be threatened but at this point, you’ve gone full robot. You take every call personally. A negotiation of this scale is your battlefield, and you don’t delegate wars.

Jungkook, obviously, is never on the calls. It doesn’t surprise you. Artists at his level rarely handle the business side of things. That’s what agents, lawyers, and managers are for. His team is professional, unshaken even when you push hard.

Still, you know who he is.

Of course you do. You may have spent the last decade buried in boardrooms, but you were born in Busan. You grew up watching the Hallyu wave explode, and though you never had the time for it, your little sister devoured everything BTS.

You remember the way she would beg for concert tickets, how she’d fall asleep with headphones on, listening to their debut on loop. You used to tease her for it— why the fuck are you crying over an idol?

Funny, looking back at it now. Considering that idol’s contract is currently giving you a migraine.

His team is smart. They have demands, and they don’t bend easily. They want creative control over his campaign image. They want scheduling flexibility due to his commitments. They want Calvin Klein to align with Jungkook’s existing partnerships… list goes on.

All reasonable, but not easy. You fight for compromises, push for adjustments, rewrite proposals until every angle is optimized for success. At the end of the day, you know one thing: This deal is worth it.

And then, one morning, before you’ve even had a sip of your morning coffee, it happens. At exactly 7:14 AM, an email lands in your inbox.

SUBJECT: FINAL APPROVAL – JEON JUNGKOOK x CALVIN KLEIN

We are pleased to confirm Jeon Jungkook’s official partnership with Calvin Klein for the upcoming Fall Collection campaign. Thank you for your patience and professionalism throughout the negotiation process. We look forward to working together!

Your eyes flicker over the words. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times before you think you might pass out.

Slowly, a smile curves on your lips. You step out of your office, and before you can say anything, someone sees your expression and knows.

“We got him.”

The room erupts. Your team, overworked and barely running on caffeine, comes alive. Cheers echo through the space, hands slap against the table in triumph, tension melting into borderline euphoria.

They know what this means. This isn’t just a campaign. This is the kind of collaboration that will hopefully bring the brand back to the forefront of everyone’s minds and not in some TJMaxx aisle.

You let them celebrate. You don’t smile often, but today… today, you do.

Just when you think the victory high has settled, a package arrives later in the day for you. It’s a black envelope, embossed with gold lettering. No company branding. No assistant delivery. Just your name.

You open it carefully. Inside is a thick, cream-colored card with an unmistakable touch of handwritten ink.

Thank you for having me.
I’m looking forward to it.
—JJK

You stare at the writing for a beat too long. It’s clean, elegant, but slightly tilted, like the hand behind it didn’t care about perfection. The inked letters feel unexpectedly personal, almost at odds with the meticulous contracts you spent days battling over.

A small, teeny weeny little part of you does wonder… What kind of man is Jeon Jungkook when he’s not just a name on a contract?

You shake the thought away real quick. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the deal is done.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Power has a way of softening the sharp edges of travel.

As Chief Marketing Officer, you rarely have to think about logistics. The world bends to accommodate you with first-class flights, black car service, five-star hotels with skyline views. When business demands your presence in another country, the details are handled before you even lift a finger.

This time is no different.

The moment Calvin Klein secured Jeon Jungkook, it became your responsibility to oversee the partnership firsthand. Deals of this magnitude require your attention, and no one executes anything better than you. So you fly to Korea, fly home. First class as always, because nothing less is expected.

The moment the plane lifts into the sky, you immerse yourself in Jeon Jungkook.

Not the man— you don’t know the man. His brand. The name that moves markets, the face that has sold out entire fashion lines with a single post, the lives that have cleaned out ramen packets in seconds.

Your screen is a kaleidoscope of him, any campaigns, endorsements, past collaborations. Streetwear in one ad, high fashion in another. His presence shifts effortlessly from youthful rebellion to refined masculinity. He is everything Calvin Klein thrives on, raw and provocative.

He’s perfect for this.

You land in Incheon to a city humming beneath dark light. Seoul is quieter than New York, but no less alive with neon signs flicker against sleek glass buildings, the scent of rain and street food hugging the air.

A black car waits for you at the terminal, an assistant from Calvin Klein’s Seoul office greeting you with a polite bow. The ride into the city is smooth, the world shifting past in a blur of muted grays and bright LED screens. Your body is exhausted, but your mind stays sharp.

Tomorrow is the first meeting. You should be thinking about logistics. Contractual points that still need finalizing. The creative vision. The structure of the campaign. But as your car glides past Itaewon’s winding streets, past districts that are both familiar and foreign, you think of something else. You haven’t called home in a while.

You keep telling yourself you’ve been busy with deadlines, meetings, strategy decks stacked higher than your appetite for guilt, but deep down, you know the truth.

You haven’t called because you don’t know how to explain it. How success swallowed you whole, how you traded in your accent for sharper vowels, your mother’s cooking for room service, the comfort of home for the cold glass walls of boardrooms.

What would you even say?

Hi, I made it. I’m tired. I miss you. I don’t know who I am anymore.

It still is the least of your concerns when you arrive to your destination.

Your hotel is one of Seoul’s finest, very discreet, a haven of understated luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the skyline, and the quiet hum of a jazz playlist fills the suite when you enter.

You shrug off your coat, kicking off your heels, stretching out the tension of the flight. Your mind wanders a little as you pour your nightly glass of wine out; you will meet Jeon Jungkook tomorrow. It’s an odd feeling, seeing as you’ve met more celebrities in your life than you can count. You’d be a horrible liar , though, if you said you weren’t the least bit curious.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You wake before your alarm, the hush of Seoul stretching beyond the glass windows of your suite. The city moves gently at this hour before the rush, before the weight of the day settles onto its spine. For a moment, you allow yourself to breathe.

Discipline has always been your armor. You move through the motions with practiced ease, a cold rinse to shake off the last remnants of jet lag, a serum smoothed over skin (Laneige is the only right answer), a swipe of rouge on lips.

And today, more than ever, you need to be impeccable.

Your suit is white, tailored, almost impossible to ignore. It is a statement and a reminder that you are the architect of success.

However, when you step into the elevator, riding down to meet your driver, a flicker of something you haven’t felt in eons settles in your chest.

Nerves.

Not because you haven’t done this before. You have. You’ve met Hollywood A-listers, supermodels draped in couture, billionaires who own entire industries. You’ve handled them all.

It’s just… he does oddly remind you of home in some silly way.

You exit the hotel with the cool breeze of the morning air wrapping around you, the weight of the city’s movement already filling the space between you and the office. The car ride is smooth, twin reflections of New York’s controlled chaos and the quieter energy of Seoul. You barely notice the time passing as you mentally run through the agenda for the day, but there’s something about the looming meeting that sits heavier on your mind than it should.

The Calvin Klein Seoul office is small, nothing like the flagship headquarters in New York. The building is sleek but understated, a space that exists more for logistics than spectacle.

The moment you walk through the glass doors, the energy is so off. Your VP of International Marketing, a sharp-eyed executive named Daniel, greets you immediately. He is already speaking before you’ve fully crossed the threshold or even taken a breath of the office air.

“Everything’s set,” he says, handing you a sleek black folder. “Jungkook’s team will be here in twenty.”

You take the folder, skimming over the notes. “Any last-minute adjustments?”

“A few,” Daniel admits. “His schedule is tighter than expected, so we may need to shift some of the shoot days. And… his team wants final approval on every creative decision.”

You glance up at him, arching a brow. “They don’t trust us?”

“They trust us,” Daniel says, lips twitching. “They just trust him more.”

Fair. You figured they would play dirty at some point.

You nod, flipping the folder shut. “We’ll make it work.”

Daniel studies you for a beat, then smirks. “You nervous?”

You don’t hesitate. “No.”

You’re not. Not exactly. But as you settle into the conference room, as the clock ticks down to his arrival, you can’t shake the deadweight sitting on your chest. There’s not really a reason to be nervous, but suddenly, the fact that you sit at the head of the desk taunts you. It feels too official,, like every choice you’ve ever made has led to this exact chair, under these lights, and now everyone’s watching.

Daniel chuckles, stepping in behind you. “No need to act cool about it. I mean, dude is literally the most famous guy out there right now.”

You glance up at him. “Right,” you reply, settling into a chair at the table. “Do I give off fangirl vibes?”

“Fair play,” Daniel admits with a smirk. “It is also just business. He’s a client like any other.”

You raise an eyebrow, his words hanging in the air. “Sure,” you say, but something about the way you says it doesn’t quite feel right.

Daniel leans against the conference table, watching you with an expression that borders on amusement “So,” he muses, “are you ready to meet him, or are we keeping up this whole pretend you don’t care act the entire time?”

You shoot him a flat look, arms crossed. “I don’t pretend.”

He smirks. “Right. You just happen to be checking your watch every five seconds like we’re waiting for the President of South Korea.”

You exhale sharply, smoothing out an invisible crease in your sleeve. “You know I don’t care about the celebrity. I care about if my boss is happy.”

Daniel hums, unconvinced. “Riiiiight.” He tilts his head, watching you for another beat before flipping open a portfolio. “Alright, boss, walk me through it one more time. We’re running with the—“

Before he can finish, a soft knock at the door interrupts. The secretary peeks her head in, voice all smooth and professional. “He’s here.”

The words settle over the room. Daniel straightens up, giving you one last knowing glance before both of you move toward the head of the conference table. Your posture is perfect, composed, the picture of an executive who has done this a hundred times. Yet, for some reason, your palms are a little sweaty.

The door opens. A quiet hum of conversation drifts in first, footsteps soft against polished floors. And then, he steps through.

The first thing you notice is that he is not what you expected. Or maybe, he is exactly what you expected. Tall, poised, effortlessly self-assured. He moves like someone accustomed to attention, yet unaffected by it, a presence that doesn’t need to demand the room because it already bends to him.

He is dressed in black from head to toe. Black jeans, a crisp button-up slightly unfastened at the top, revealing the barest hint of a toned chest beneath the collar. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing a canvas of tattoos that swirl down one of his arms. Dark hair falls just over his brows, parted slightly. His skin is flawless, his lips full and plush, but it’s his round eyes that capture you first.

He has piercings, small silver hoops glinting in his ears, the metal just barely catching the light. And then, as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, you notice it, the piercing there, too.

You inhale, the moment stretching far too long.

Jungkook’s team follows behind him, a carefully curated group of managers, assistants, and legal representatives. They all exude efficiency, dressed in business casual

Jungkook is not corporate. He is the complete fucking polar opposite of it. And yet, as he steps forward, his expression shifts, a polite smile.

He greets everyone kindly, taking the time to nod toward the executives flanking the room, shaking hands, offering soft pleasantries.

You are still staring. For the first time in your career, you cannot decide if the man standing before you is a masterpiece to be marketed or a storm brewing.

You need to get a grip on reality.

Jungkook’s gaze is assessing, but you don’t let it linger. Years of discipline have trained you to absorb impact, analyze it, and move forward. So you shift your attention to the team standing behind him, your posture sharpening as you step forward.

“Good morning,” you say smoothly, extending a hand to the first of his representatives. “I appreciate you all taking the time to meet today.”

His manager steps forward first, shaking your hand firmly. “Of course. We’ve been looking forward to this partnership.”

One by one, you go through the motions, firm grips, polite smiles, nods exchanged. These are the gatekeepers, the ones who make the real decisions behind the scenes. You commit each of their names to memory, cataloging their expressions, their temperaments.

You turn lastly to Jungkook, your expression unreadable. His lips are still curled in a faint smile, but you keep your own face neutral. Instead, you bow, just a crisp nod of acknowledgment.

"Jeon Jungkook-ssi," you say, voice poised. "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

When you straighten, you see it, the flicker of amusement crossing his face. He tilts his head, tongue pressing briefly against the inside of his cheek before speaking. “The bow? That’s formal. Are we at a company dinner?”

A few quiet chuckles from his team. You refuse to laugh. Your expression remains steady, composed. “It’s standard when meeting someone for the first time.”

Jungkook watches you for a beat longer, as if testing to see if he can break through that calm exterior. But when you don’t waver, he simply lets out a quiet hmm, not quite disappointed or impressed.

“Now, let’s get started.” You step toward the table, signaling the meeting’s shift into motion. “We have a lot to go over, and I want to make sure we’re aligned on the creative direction before we finalize schedules.”

Jungkook’s team follows, the atmosphere shifting from introductions to strategy.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” you continue, placing a sleek, black folder on the table, “this campaign is projected to be one of Calvin Klein’s biggest of the year. Our goal isn’t just to market a collection, we want to shape a cultural moment. With Jungkook’s presence, we have the ability to move beyond traditional advertising and into something far more influential.”

You feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, but you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you focus on his team, keeping your voice measured and confident. “I know negotiations took time, but I want to personally express my excitement for this collaboration. We’re not here to simply slap a face on some storefronts… we’re here to build something iconic.”

Jungkook leans back in his chair, arms resting casually against the armrests. “Iconic, huh?”

You glance at him for a second. “That’s the standard.”

The meeting stretches into deep discussions and strategic analysis, the campaign unfolding across the polished mahogany of the conference table. You lead with precision, breaking down creative direction, discussing visual aesthetics, mapping out timelines with a ruthless efficiency.

Jungkook listens. Not just politely, not just because he has to, but the man actually listens.

You notice it in the way his eyes sharpen when you speak, the occasional flick of his gaze to the proposal documents, the way he leans forward slightly when something actually interests him.

“So, to sum it all up,” you continue, flipping a page, “this campaign will lean into Calvin Klein’s signature branding but with a more modernized edge. We’re emphasizing raw masculinity, effortless sensuality—”

“Effortless?” Jungkook interrupts smoothly in a teasing tone. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

You look up. “You disagree?”

He tilts his head, considering. “I wouldn’t call it effortless.”

His voice is casual, but something in it makes the room halt slightly. You set your pen down. “Then what would you call it?”

Jungkook lets the silence breathe, holding your gaze a second longer than necessary. His team shifts slightly, waiting for his response. He smiles “Intentional.”

You hold his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Fair point.”

His lips twitch, like he wasn’t expecting you to concede so easily. But before the exchange lingers, you move forward. “We’ll finalize creative direction by next week. In the meantime, we’ll align schedules for fittings and shoot dates…”

By the time lunch rolls around, the energy in the room loosens slightly. It’s quite clear everyone is exhausted and would rather be two courses deep into a meal now. Jungkook’s team begins gathering their things, murmuring about reservations at a nearby restaurant. Daniel gives you a glance, knowing better than to invite you along.

You never take breaks.

As the last few executives file out, you remain in your seat, flipping through campaign notes, already highlighting sections for revision. The door closes behind them, leaving you alone in the quiet of the conference room.

You barely have a minute to yourself before a soft knock echoes through the space. You glance up, expecting Daniel, but instead… Jungkook.

He lingers in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, the other tucked into the pocket of his jeans. His expression is unreadable, but he’s unmistakably casual in the way he stands there, like he has all the time in the world. “Mind if I come in?”

You hesitate. You have no idea why. It’s not that uncommon to be friendly with the campaign faces. You actually really liked working with Kendall Jenner, with her even inviting you to her home in Calabasas.

You study him for a moment, the way he leans against the doorframe, his presence too large for the quiet of the conference room. With bated breath, you gesture toward the chair across from you. “Suit yourself.”

Jungkook steps inside, the soft click of the door closing behind him echoing in the empty space. His gaze flickers over the neatly stacked papers, the highlighted notes, the sleek silver pen in your hand.

“You don’t take breaks?” He questions innocently, lowering himself into the chair.

“I don’t have time for them. And I assume you don’t either, considering you’re here instead of at lunch with your team,” You retort.

Jungkook hums, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d actually crack a smile once everyone left.”

A slow, teasing grin tugs at his lips. “So far, not looking too good.”

You exhale through your nose, unimpressed. “Was there something you needed?”

Jungkook leans back, the crisp fabric of his shirt stretching over his frame. He looks at you, not in the way men usually do, not with arrogance or expectation, but with a calculated curiosity. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

Great. You have an observer on your hands.

You blink once. “I don’t have to like you. Not in my job description, unfortunately. ”

His grin widens, slow and deliberate. “So cold. I think I like it.”

Your jaw tenses, but only slightly. He catches it. Most people flinch under scrutiny, but you don’t. You don’t shift, don’t fumble, don’t drop your gaze. Instead, you meet his stare with the same measured indifference you give to 55-year old men.

“Flirting with me won’t get you special treatment.” Your voice is detached, cool as a cucumber.

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh, “Who said I was flirting?”

Your lips press into a thin line.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, propping an elbow on the armrest, “I don’t expect special treatment. Just the best. And from what I’ve seen so far…” he nods toward your documents, “…you don’t settle for anything less either.”

You don’t reply, but he’s hit the mark. Jungkook studies you for another beat, his gaze dipping, taking you apart piece by piece and seemingly trying to understand what makes you tick.

You hate to admit it, but he’s sharper than you expected. Most people in his position come into these meetings as faces, not minds. They sign the contracts, smile for the cameras, let their teams do the thinking.

You click your pen once. “If that’s all, I have work to do.”

Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then moves a tad closer, just slightly, enough for you to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne, something clean and subtly musky.

His voice dips lower, softer now, but no less assured. “Tell me, do you always bet on things you know you’ll win?”

Your fingers still against the table. You set your pen down with deliberate precision, tilting your head slightly. “Only when the stakes are worth it.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitches, not quite a smile. The thing you’ll come to learn about Jungkook is this: the man cannot back down from a challenge. He loves games. Always has

It’s how he got here in the first place. Grit, obsession, the refusal to lose. Every accolade, every headline, every billboard was earned not just through talent, but by the sheer thrill of the chase.

Truth be told, he’s a little.. intrigued, in some weird way. To put it in even more cliche terms, you look like trouble.

And… well, Jungkook has always had a thing for playing with fire.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

taglist ; @lovingkoalaface @maybetheproblemisme @mimi1097 @mar-lo-pap @mysjammy @yooniepot @tinytan-gerine @ashslight @sky-23s-world @myzzysstuff @elinaki92 @7fever @munchkin-kitty7-blog @koofleur @jjkluver7 @coletaehyung @jkxlvrr @amarawayne @kooslilhoe @bangchanwantsmesobad @kpopslur @senaqsstuff @sugakookies77 @tteokbokibyjk @emmie2308 @neurospicynugget @prxdajeon @majesticjung-97

[lvis44]

Cabin Fever - Pt. 2 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.3k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: Part two for you lovelies! I don't have much to say other than I am already working on part 3 and writing lewis as a bit of an ass is quite fun! As always ignore the fact that I cannot keep a tense for the life of me, Im grateful you guys seem to love me anyways lmao.

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

Your room is freezing when you wake in the morning, the room eerily silent. You groan, rolling over to grab your phone while trying to keep as much of the comforter over you as possible.

“Fuck.” You mumble to yourself when you see that your phone hasn’t been charging all night, despite being plugged in.

You sit up, looking around the room, reaching over to flick on the lamp beside your bed, nothing. You evidently lost power overnight. You're surprised that in a house this lush there isn’t already a generator going but you suppose someone needs to start it, or it only powers certain things. One thing you know for certain is your room is freezing. You make your way out of bed and over to the fireplace in your room, hoping there is wood nearby to warm you up. You can’t help but let out another groan when you see the electric starter on the gas fireplace, no use if the power is out. You decide to go see if the rest of the house is a little warmer, or if you can at least be miserable with someone else. You rummage through your suitcase to find a warmer set of pajamas, settling on a thick pair of flannels that have kept you warm for nearly a decade. Once you've changed you grab the throw blanket off the back of the nearby chair, wrapping it around you like a cape and decide to make your way down into the house.

The house is completely silent as you wander down the stairs, evident that everyone else is still asleep. It doesn’t surprise you, you haven’t been good at sleeping recently, always waking up much earlier than you would like to. You imagine everyone else stayed up for a while after you disappeared to your room the night before, possibly all nursing a slight hangover this morning with the amount they could drink from your experience. You quietly make your way to the one room you had become familiar with the night before, the den. You stop in your tracks the moment you enter the room, surprised to find Lewis on the couch. He’s got a blanket draped across his legs and a large fire going in the fireplace in front of him. You stand frozen in the doorway for a moment, not sure if you should join him or run back to your room to avoid interaction. You finally decide it's far too cold to let his arrogant attitude keep you from getting a little bit warmer. Before you risk settling into the den alongside him you decide to go in search of a way to possibly make a warm beverage. As you make your way past him and towards the kitchen you mutter out your most polite “good morning” to which you only receive a subtle hum, almost as if he didn’t even know the sound had left his body. You roll your eyes, a constant with him around, finally making your way into the kitchen to rummage. Nothing in the kitchen works and even the hot water heater seems to be electric, the water coming from the pipes being ice cold.

“There’s a kettle on the fire, tea bags and mugs are next to the coffee maker.” Lewis’ voice calls out through the quiet house. You can’t help but wonder for a moment if someone else has woken up and he is directing them instead but as you stand there you hear nothing else. You quickly grab a tea bag and a mug, making your way back to the den and the warmth of the fire as rapidly as possible.

“Thanks.” You say quietly, offering him a small smile.

“Yeah,” He says, his gaze never leaving the fire in front of him, “should be ready in a second.”

“Okay.” You nod, settling on the floor in front of the fire despite the many cush couches and seats available.

The two of you sit in silence much to your pleasure, perfectly content to listen to the crackle of the fire instead of jabs and insults from the man behind you. The sound of him getting up from his seat draws you out of the trance that the soothing fire had put you in. It takes you a moment to realize that he is grabbing the kettle, the sound of water bubbling now coming over the sound of the crackling wood. He wordlessly fills his mug, setting the kettle and pot holder down on the hearth in front of you before moving back to his seat on the couch. You lean forward to grab the kettle, your blanket falling from your shoulders as you do so, exposing you to the still rather chilly air. You can feel his eyes on you as you pour your water and you can’t help but assume he has taken note of your worn out flannel pajamas, having noticed that he was dressed in what appeared to be a brand new Dior sweatsuit. Once you return the kettle to the hearth and adjust your blanket you turn to look at him over your shoulder, a deep smirk evident on his features.

“What?” You ask, your tone already argumentative.

“The second your blanket fell you started grumbling about winter and being cold. Not a fan I take it?” He chuckles.

You hadn’t even realized you were complaining as you made your tea, your cheeks flushing slightly at the realization.

“Moved away from it for a reason.” You mumble, returning your attention to the fire in front of you.

He doesn’t respond, allowing you to both sit in silence and enjoy the warmth and peaceful air before your family swarms the house. Just as you finish your tea you hear him start to move behind you, catching your attention. You glance back to him, seeing him folding up the blanket he had been using. 

He notices your attention, turning toward you after he throws the blanket over the couch, “Snow looks like it’s finally stopped, gonna go out and shovel so I can finally get out of your hair.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his comment, choosing to move past it, “Dylan has a plow, he’ll be up soon.”

“It’s blocked in the garage, gotta at least shovel our cars out before we can get it out.” He tells you, grabbing his phone from the table and walking away towards his room just off the den.

His habit of leaving the room without a final thought or exit bugs you more than it should, just another thing that makes him seem arrogant and aloof. You decide to just settle in again in front of the fire, more than happy to allow him to dig the plow out of the garage, you figure he’ll appreciate the workout anyway. It doesn’t take long until you hear him reammerge from his room, the sound of snow pants swishing behind you. You focus on the sounds of him putting on his boots in the foyer mixed with the subtle murmurs of people waking up throughout the house, disappointed that your silence has come to an end. Not long after you hear Lewis shut the front door, your dad is appearing in the den, a thick robe over his pajamas.

“Hey Kiddo, how long have you been up?” He asks, his voice pleasantly quiet.

“Maybe an hour or so, honestly not sure.” You say, leaning slightly towards him as he bends down to squeeze your shoulder.

“Power has been out since you got up?” His voice stays soft as he sits down in a chair near you.

You hum, nodding before gesturing to the kettle still sitting in front of the fire, “There might still be some warm water in there if you want to make some tea or something.”

“It’s a nice fire you’ve got going here.” He tells you as he gets up to check the kettle.

“Lewis had it going when I got up.” You admit, unsure why you bothered, probably so it didn’t come up later.

“Where is he?” Your dad asks, wandering into the kitchen to find a mug.

“He just went out to shovel, I guess the plow is blocked in the garage, we’ve gotta move cars or something before we can get it out.” You tell him as he emerges with only a tea bag, stealing your empty cup from the table beside you making you laugh, “Yes, I’m done, thank you for asking.”

Your dad just chuckles, pouring himself a cup of tea, leaving your used bag in the cup, “Well after I get some caffeine in me I’ll head out to help him, there’s a ton of snow out there and it sounded like it was going to be really wet.”

“Dad, no, I’ll go change and we can force Dylan to help when he gets up.” You immediately argue, not wanting to go shovel with Lewis in the slightest but far too aware of your fathers back problems to allow him to shovel after a storm like this.

“I’m not a cripple, Y/N, I take care of our house back home during the winter, I’m perfectly capable of helping out here.” Your fathers voice is stern, his choice of words causing you to cringe.

“I know, I just, I worry about you, I don’t want you to be in pain for the holidays. Lewis is an athlete and Dylan and I are still young enough that we can bounce back. Just stay inside and help keep Tom sane while Beatrice and Vanessa freak out.” You try to reason with him, your voice quieting towards the end of your argument, unaware of who may be awake at this point.

“Fine, but if you guys need any help you let me know. Maybe I can get your brother's generator running, I would be shocked if he didn’t have one with all this.” He concedes, gesturing around to the lavish yet dark house surrounding you.

“Yeah, I was surprised there wasn’t something for the heat at least, seems very unlike Dylan.” You say, still confused by the complete lack of backup power.

Before your father can even respond you hear Vanessa's voice coming down the stairs, shrill and unforgiving for the hour of the morning.

“It’s all out Dylan, the tree in the foyer isn’t even on!” Vanessa's voice is grating, causing you and your father to exchange a look.

“Babe, it’s okay, I’m sure it will be back on soon.” Dylan's voice follows behind her. You can tell he’s only just woken up, not ready for this much drama.

“You put on the kettle for Dylan, I’m gonna go shovel.” You tell your dad with a pat on the shoulder, a teasing yet knowing smirk on your face.

“Sounds more like a whiskey kind of morning for him.” Your dad murmurs, making you laugh as you leave the room.

You can hear Vanessa freaking out in the kitchen, you manage to narrowly escape any interaction and make your way to your room to bundle up to head out to shovel.

Once you step outside you can feel just how much the temperature has dropped from the night before, your nostrils immediately stinging. You burrow your face further into your jacket, grabbing one of the shovels off of the porch and making your way down to the driveway. You notice that Lewis has made good headway so far, the porch and path fully cleared off as well as his car. Much to your surprise when you step around his tall Mercedes, you’re met with him cleaning off your small rental. 

“Is somebody dying inside?” Lewis asks when he notices your presence.

“What?” You ask, caught off guard.

“I know you’re not out here for my company Y/N, what's up?” He pries, not looking at you as he finishes removing the snow from your car before throwing the scraper in the back of his car again.

“Uh, I just came out to help.” You tell him, awkwardly holding up your shovel in his direction.

He looks in your direction, his eyebrows slightly raised in a surprised and disbelieving expression, “Okay then.”

He doesn’t say anything else, picking up his shovel from where he’d rested it in the snow bank and continuing to dig out your car. You follow his lead, beginning to chip away at the pile in front of the garage. You feel like you’re barely doing anything as you watch his large shovel fulls fly into the yard, making the snow you’re moving look like a joke.

“Thanks for cleaning off my car.” You say, trying your best to be polite.

He just shrugs, a grunt leaving his chest as he throws a particularly heavy load of snow, “Need to move it anyway.”

You just nod, continuing to shovel in silence. He has your car completely freed from the snow and is onto shoveling out a parking space off to the side by the time that you finish the small patch in front of the garage, you feel like your help is barely needed but you figure it’s better than nothing. Much to your surprise Lewis is the one to break the silence next.

“Is V inside freaking out?” He asks, leaning against his shovel to catch his breath for a moment.

You laugh quietly, nodding, not wanting to say anything that may make him defensive over his friend.

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” He says, returning to moving snow, “she can be like that when things aren’t perfect.”

You just nod, very aware of exactly what he is talking about. Only a few moments pass before you hear his voice again.

“Grab our keys from inside? Mine are in the bowl by the front door.” His question is barely a question, more of a demand but you just nod, figuring he’s doing all of the heavy lifting anyway.

When you step in the front door, Dylan is quick to rush into the entryway, “Hey, I’ll get the plow out, you guys really don’t need to keep shoveling.” His face is apologetic but you can tell he’s stressed.

“It’s alright, we’re just gonna move our cars so you can get the plow out.” You tell him, grabbing the keys from the table.

“Okay, thank you, tell Lewis thank you too. I’ll be out to plow once everything calms down a little bit in here.” He says, pulling you into a hug.

“Take your time, I think we’ll be in soon.” You say as you pull away, squeezing his arm with a sympathetic smile.

Back outside Lewis has successfully cleared out enough space for both of your cars to move to and get the plow out of the garage.

“Which one do you want me to move to?” You ask him, approaching him with his keys out for him.

“I’ve got it, you can go inside.” He says, pushing off from where he had been leaning against his car, taking his keys and waiting for yours.

“It’s fine, I can move a car, Lewis.” You say with a bit of a huff.

“I know Y/N, but I’ve got it.” He says back, annoyance creeping into his voice rapidly.

“Okay, fine, thanks I guess.” You snap, handing him your keys and turning around to head back inside. You hear him let out a small scoff as you walk away.

By the time you make it into the kitchen, a full meltdown is occurring. Vanessa and Beatrice are freaking out to your mother about not being able to make a proper family breakfast and Tom is berating your brother for not having fixed the generator before everyone arrived. Your parents are doing their best to get everyone to calm down, your mom trying to figure out something to make for breakfast while your father attempts to defend Dylan. You stand in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in, very ready to turn and run from it all.

“Holy shit.” His voice is close behind you, so close you can feel the warmth of his body as he approaches the same scene you’re now witnessing. You turn to look at Lewis, momentarily sharing a rare knowing glance.

“Happy fucking holidays.” You say sarcastically, raising your eyebrows before stepping into the kitchen, leaving him to take his own moment before joining the insanity as well.

“Hey Dylan,” You call out loudly, trying to cut through the shrill arguments occurring, “do you think you guys have any cast iron pans around here?”

“Uh, yeah, we do, why?” He stutters briefly, thrown off by the interruption from the argument he’s been having with his father in law.

“Cool, can you grab them for me?” You say calmly, not explaining before turning toward Vanessa, “Think you have eggs and bacon in the fridge?”

“Yeah I did but I’m sure it’s all gone bad now and we can’t exactly cook it.” Her response comes out whiny and you have to take a deep breath.

“The fridge is a big cooler, it’s plenty cold in here and in there, it’s fine.” You try to explain to her, moving to the fridge to grab some ingredients quickly without letting the cold air out.

You spot the eggs and bacon, also grabbing the first bits of fruit that you see, piling everything up on the counter behind you and sending your brother a look.

“Lewis,” You call to him, catching him off guard, not expecting you to speak to him, “can you go make sure the fire is going good? I need it really hot with a good amount of coals.”

He just gives you a look like you have multiple heads before slowly nodding and making his way toward the den. Vanessa still seems to be on the verge of tears as she sits at the kitchen island, evidently having decided that the whole trip is a wash because of this little hiccup. Your brother and father quickly catch on to what is going on in your mind, your dad grabbing a loaf of bread and stacking slices of it in tin foil as your brother begins laying bacon in one of the cast iron pans you made him grab. Once his bacon is all laid out you grab the pan from him and make your way to the den, passing Lewis on the way who once again looks at you like you’re insane. You’re pleasantly surprised by the fire he’s produced when you squat down in front of it, the pan of bacon in one hand as you grab the fire poker with the other. You begin to move the logs around, trying to make a nice bed of coals for your pan before you hear his voice arguing from behind you.

“Hey, you just asked me to make a nice fire and now you’re destroying it, what the hell is this?” He sounds childish, like he’s genuinely frustrated that you’re ruining the admittedly beautiful fire he made.

You shake your head, finally placing the pan of bacon down on the hot coals before standing to face him, “We’re gonna cook like we’re camping so your best friend doesn’t lose her absolute mind. Can you handle that?” Your voice is low, a bite to it caused by him not being able to go with the flow for a moment.

“Jesus, okay captain.” He shoots back sarcastically as you walk back toward the kitchen.

“Okay V, bacon is on the fire, it’s gonna take a minute longer than usual but once that’s going I’ll get some eggs on as well and I think my dad already has the toast ready to go in.” You say, keeping your voice calm as you wrap an arm around your sister in law, “How about we get some fruit cut up to tie us over?”

The hug she wraps you in makes your heart clench, as annoying as her behaviour about the situation is you can feel in her hug that it was genuinely taking a toll on her.

“Thank you, oh my god I love you so much, best bonus sister in the world.” She says, squeezing you tight.

“Thank my dad and Dylan, they’re the ones that made me go camping so much as a kid.” You giggle, squeezing her back while sending both the men a slightly unimpressed look before cracking a smirk. They both knew you were joking, some of your fondest memories were from those camping trips.

“Oh, wait, Dyl, isn’t there a case of Champagne in the basement? We could do Mimosas!” Vanessa suddenly perks up, her mood shifting quickly.

“Yeah babe, there is, I'll go grab it, be just a second.” Dylan says eagerly, evidently pleased to see his wife excited about something for the first time all morning. 

“Glad to see one of your kids has got some problem solving skills, not the one I would have expected though.” Tom grumbles from the corner of the kitchen as Dylan disappears into the basement, your stomach clenching at the obvious distaste for the both of you in his voice, “I have been telling him to get the generator looked at for months, yet here we are. Hell, I could fix the thing if the damn kid had any tools.”

“Dylans got tools,” Lewis pipes up, having just walked back into the room, not even waiting for the evident rebuttal your father was about to lay out, “he’s got a whole workshop in the back shed. Breakfast is gonna be a while, maybe you and I can get it running.”

“Finally, some initiative, you’re a good man Lewis.” Tom says, already pushing off the counter and heading to suit up for generator repair.

“Dad.” Vanessa groans, pressing her forehead into her hands.

You can see every word your father would like to say bubbling at the surface, only keeping them inside for the sake of civility for the holiday, your mother quietly stewing from where she stands cutting up fruit. As Tom makes his way out of the room, Lewis moves over to where you and Vanessa are standing.

“Fair warning V, I don’t know the first thing about generators so I claim no responsibility for anything that happens, but he needs to get out of this damn room before it gets worse.” He tells her softly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Thank you.” She whispers softly, grabbing his hand to squeeze it back.

“By the way,” His voice is slightly louder now, his attention directed at you “I threw a few more logs on the fire to keep it hot, your bacon might need to get flipped soon, it was starting to get pretty violent.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” You say, surprised he even let you know, you would have sooner imagined he would let you burn it just to see you be yet another disgrace of the day, simply for his amusement. 

When Dylan returns from the dark basement you are whisking eggs alone in the kitchen, his arms are full of Champagne bottles as he looks around at the empty room, evidently confused.

“Sorry that took so long, hard to navigate in the dark, where-” He begins.

“Mom, Dad, Beatrice, and V are all in the den watching the bacon cook.” You laugh, catching on to his question.

“Tom and Lewis?” He asks, immediately suspect.

“They're outside trying to fix the generator.” You say sheepishly, knowing he would hate it but not wanting to lie to him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He says under his breath, turning away from you for a moment.

“I know, I know, but Tom was going to go absolutely insane in here and as much as I dislike him I kinda think Lewis was trying to save your marriage.” You say quickly, trying to calm him down.

Dylan lets out a sigh, setting the heavy bottles down on the counter, “They better not hurt themselves fucking around with it. Besides they literally can’t fix it, it’s missing a part from the manufacturer, which I told Tom, but no, he has to go-” He begins to rant.

“Hey, Lewis at least kinda knows engines and if they can’t fix it, at least it keeps them busy for a while. Also just keep in mind that Dad would be just as overprotective of me as Tom is with V.” You try to diffuse the situation.

“Never thought I would hear you defend Lewis.” Dylan grumbles, ignoring everything else you had to say.

“I’m not,” You quickly defend yourself, “I’m just trying to give you the whole picture.”

“I’m glad you’re here, this family drives me insane sometimes. Nice to have someone normal.” Dylan admits to you quietly, not even looking up at you as the words leave his mouth.

“You may want to recalibrate on what you consider normal,” You start with a laugh, moving around the island to wrap him in a hug, “but I’m happy to be your partner in crime. Now, I’m gonna go cook some eggs and throw this bread on the fire. You pop some champagne and grab the oj and the fruit off the back deck.”

“Why is all of it on the back deck?” Dylan asks, doing his best to ignore the sappy sibling moment.

“It’s like a walk in refrigerator, even houses this nice only get those during the winter months.” You say teasingly as you walk away with your pan and bowl of eggs.

By the time breakfast is ready, Lewis and Tom have made their way back into the house, Tom finally conceding that he can’t fix the generator without extra parts. You are proud of Dylan as you see him bite his tongue, evidently having things to say but instead just thanking his father in law for trying. Vanessa is overjoyed with breakfast, thanking you profusely and taking a billion pictures because ‘it's just so rustic’, making you laugh every time she excitedly mentions it. Once again you feel yourself wanting to say something when you notice Lewis not touching anything that was made, sitting at the table with just a bowl of fruit and a mimosa, but you decide against it, deciding to just let breakfast progress peacefully. You do still find yourself hoping that he will leave the second after your brother finally gets outside to plow. 

Once everyone is done eating you find yourself offering to help Beatrice clean up at the same moment as Lewis, she of course takes both of your offers happily, both of you sharing a less than pleased glance. As you begin to pile dishes into the sink, only able to rinse them with cold tap water, you hear a humm. 

Your brothers voice cuts your thoughts off, talking to Lewis, “Hey man, I was gonna head out to plow, and I know you already shoveled and thank you so much, but I was wondering if I could convince you to hop on the skidoo while I’m on the hill, Vanessa freaks out when I plow the hill alone and I don’t think we need anymore drama this morning.”

“Yeah, no problem mate, just give me a minute.” Lewis says calmly.

“Guys, shhh.” You hiss from your spot at the sink.

“Well no shit.” Lewis mutters from behind you, where he stands wrapping up the bowl of fruit salad.

“Is that the heat?” You ask excitedly, whipping around to face them.

“Sounds like it.” Lewis chuckles, not looking at you, instead turning to open the fridge to put the salad away, a smile crossing both of your faces when you see the light illuminate the interior.

“Powers back on!” You hear your fathers voice call from the other room.

You decide to leave the dishes for another moment, heading into the den where everyone else has settled for the time being. When you enter you hear the TV click on, your father immediately finding the local news.

“The snowfall is the worst we have seen in almost a decade, nearing four feet in under twenty four hours. The winds were devastating, taking out power to most of the surrounding rural neighborhoods. Emergency crews are on the ground to aid in snow removal and extraction for those trapped indoors. If you are in a safe and warm location we urge you to stay inside, do not attempt travel, and wait for further updates.” The weather reporter's voice carries through the den, the TV cutting to scenes of parts of town that you had driven through absolutely ransacked with snow and downed trees.

“Lewis, darling, I know the snow has stopped but you have to stay, I would be worrying about you the whole time you were out there.” Beatrice says, her voice sounding overly desperate like calling someone home from war.

“It’s just a drive, Bea, I’d be totally fine once I made it to my house.” He argued patiently, his voice behind you.

“But the drive, you never know what will happen, and what if you get to your house and something happened there, then you have to drive all the way back here. I would be worried sick.” Beatrice continues to argue as if its her house, you know Vanessa would never turn Lewis down but the audacity of her mother doesn't cease to amaze you.

“Y/N and I got my car out of the snow this morning, if we can get the driveway plowed I’m good to go. Between my driving skills and the four wheel drive I’m sure I will be more than fine, I might have to sit through some delays but that will be it.” He continues to attempt to reason with the distraught woman.

“Lewis, she’s right, they’re telling people to stay put. It’s not worth the risk.” Vanessa pipes up, siding with her mom.

You can hear him let out a heavy sigh and you know he’s getting ready to concede, you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen him disagree with Vanessa or tell her no to anything she wants.

“I don’t want to intrude, I know you weren’t planning on having me here. You guys should really have your family holiday the way you planned it.” He argues one last time, the weakest argument yet.

“Nonsense, you are family. I’m always happy to have the son I never got around.” Tom says eagerly. You cringe internally at his words, for both Dylan and Vanessa, you can even see distaste on Lewis’ face when you steal a glance at him.

“I do genuinely need to get to my house at some point, but I’ll stick around a little longer if it would make you feel better.” Lewis finally concedes, looking less enthusiastic than you had anticipated.

You quietly announce that you are going to go finish the dishes, wanting to get away from everyone for a moment. You’re only allowed to be alone for a moment before Lewis is joining you in the kitchen, much to your dismay.

“You’ll survive.” You hear him grumble as he begins cleaning up the kitchen behind you.

“I didn’t say anything.” You snap at him, unhappy with being attacked unprovoked.

“Didn’t have to, I know you don’t want me here.” He says firmly.

“It’s not my house, Vanessa can invite whomever she pleases.” You say, continuing with the dishes.

“Yeah, she can, doesn’t mean you’re happy about it.” He argues.

“Because you’re just buzzing to spend more time with me?” You question him harshly, finally turning to face him as you dry your hands.

“Oh fucking dying.” He says sarcastically, an over dramatic pained look on his face.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before once again he is leaving the room without a word.

“It’s only a week Y/N.” You mutter to yourself, taking a deep breath before busying yourself with cleaning. Maybe you can keep yourself so busy you won’t have to interact with him at all.

[unfixablebabyyy]

pt 2 of the dennis You thing uh fair warning it's kinda all over the place but i had fun writing it (also gonna post it w the original but im a boomer and despite a decade on this site i still don't know how to work it properly lmao)

(nsfw, minors DNI)

There's something wrong with me. I haven't really been sleeping which is doing a number on the bags under my eyes. I keep getting these crazy headaches. I think I'm breaking out- I caught a blemish in the mirror last night and I'm certain it's gotten worse. Unfortunately, it's all your fault. The last woman I slept with was in and out of my mind faster than I was in and out of her, but you are driving me absolutely insane. Mac has started to notice, which is goddamn annoying. He keeps looking at me like I have some kind of disease, asking me stupid questions, constantly hovering. Maybe it's because I stopped eating. Or maybe it's because I stopped taking my meds. Either way, he knows something is up, but he can't find out, and neither can Charlie, and absolutely not Frank. You're too sweet to keep a secret from Dee and, no offense, but quite frankly, I don't think you could- you're not a very good liar. And if Dee knows we slept together, what if she told you about all the weird and horrible things I've done? She's been oddly quiet about the whole thing. I can't even think about it without feeling nauseous. What if she told you about the system? Or the binders? Or the tapes? Or all that stuff hidden in the side panel in the trunk of my car? I'm not stupid, I know that stuff is more than off-putting- it's incriminating. I need to calm down. I really need a Valium but I forgot to get my prescription filled- my mind has been occupied by one thing: you.

It's been about a week since we had sex. I made you dinner, and I did my homework- I knew exactly what to say, exactly when to laugh, exactly how and where to touch you. I like the music you listen to and the movies you watch, or at least that's what I made you think when I had it all queued up, with notes on your favorite parts. We're compatible, see? I drank too much, which was stupid of me, but you didn't seem to mind. It all happened so fast and intense and I was in control right up until I wasn't. As I watch the tape for the 500th time I swear I can pinpoint the exact moment you slipped into my brain and made a permanent home there. That night I did the unthinkable and actually allowed you to stay over and when I woke up the next morning with you lying beside me I was shocked to realize that I actually hated the thought of you leaving. And when you did finally leave, I felt so empty it made me sick.

Usually, once I've been with someone intimately, my desire for them fizzles into boredom within a few hours or so, but I feel like I want you more now than I ever did before. I need to feel your hands on my body, your breath against my neck, your lips on mine. I need to taste you again. I want to own you, put you on a leash or handcuff you to my bed and leave you there so that I know you're all mine.

I need to shower. I need to eat something. I need my meds. My hands are starting to tremor and when I stand up my head rushes and I almost blackout. Is this what it feels like? I'd almost forgotten. I need to focus. The last time I felt even remotely this way for someone, it ended in alimony and a murder accusation. I pick up my phone from my bedside table. 5:17 PM.

"Hey. Stop by the bar if you're out tonight, drinks are on me." Send. I groan. Get it together. I should really go and open the bar. Can't forget to stop by the pharmacy.

It takes me two hours to get ready because I can't decide what to wear or which cologne you might like more. The uncertainty is making me so anxious I forget to grab something to eat on the way out.

"Dennis! Can I come with you?"

I think Mac is yelling at me as I bound down the stairs, but I don't really care- I can't handle him right now. Outside the sun is getting low, painting the sidewalk with shadows. When I get to my car and slide into the driver's seat, I immediately feel a little better. The warmth of the day coupled with the smell of the interior lull the chaos into a low buzz. I inhale through my nose and close my eyes. Relax. I turn on the Range and the radio comes to life. I cringe, resist the urge to cover my ears with my hands as the chorus of "Hungry Like the Wolf" blasts at full volume. I snatch the dial and turn it down. Any other time I would've loved a little Duran Duran, but right now, it's jarring and abrasive. I pull out a Jimmy Buffet CD and stick it into the slot. As I back out of a parallel park, I begin to sing along, "I spent four lonely days in a brown LA haze, and I just want you back by my side." That's right, focus. Pharmacy. Bar. Pharmacy. Bar. Pharmacy. Bar.

I almost blow up at the pharmacist over the fact that it takes twice as long to get my prescription, except that she looks at me like she knows me, and not in a good way. She's tall, with dark hair and chocolate eyes, and I have to admit she does look a little familiar, but she's not you, so it doesn't matter. When she hands me my prescription and I still don't recognize her, she seems irritated.

Back in the Range, I pop open the cap and dump the pills in my hand. I pick out one and swallow it dry. The rest of the medication go back into the bottle, with the cap twisted tight, and I'm off to the bar, 20mph over the speed limit. When I finally turn onto Paddy's block, I clock Dee's car across the street from the entrance. I should have never given her that damn key. But then again, I've been so distracted lately, maybe I left it unlocked. Thank god the Valium is starting to kick in, otherwise I would be boiling over right now. Lucky her, I guess. I still slam the door when I get out, but before I enter the building, I roll the tension out of my shoulders and take a deep breath.

Inside, Dee is sitting at the bar, facing the door, with a heavy pour of wine in her hand and a smug grin plastered on her sharp face. Our entire lives, she's never bested me in anything other than being born 3 minutes before me, so her confidence right now is unnerving.

"Oh come on, really? Have you just been sitting here alone all day getting drunk?" a successful attempt at knocking her down a peg. Whatever you've told her (or she's told you) has inflated her ego dangerously.

"What?! Fuck you, I'm not drunk, I'm trapping you," she snaps back.

"Trapping me?" I can't help but laugh. It's so easy to get under her skin. I step behind the bar and take a clean glass to the tap, pouring myself a beer, preparing myself for what's to come.

"What do you want with my friend you little freak?" she blurts out, as clumsy with her words as she is with her lanky body.

"You have friends?" the drugs are doing their job. I feel like I'm beginning to even out, gain some control.

Dee, on the other hand, is seeing red, "You know who I'm talking about, don't play stupid with me. You couldn't just bang her and be done?" So then she knows I invited you.

"Honestly, Dee, I don't know who you're talking about," I take a sip of my beer and lean on the bar.

"Oh yeah? Then why don't I just text her and tell her not to come to Paddy's tonight?" Bitch. She smiles when she sees the mask come off and I glare at her.

"Whatever," my jaw clenches a little, but I try to maintain my posture.

"So? What are you planning?" she asks, and I roll my eyes.

"You always assume the worst," to be fair, she's also seen the worst.

"Yeah, because you haven't fucked the same girl twice since high school," that's probably true, "So what is it? You trying to prove some point to Mac? Did you and Frank make some gross bet about 'who could fuck Dee's friend first'? I mean what are you up to?" she squints at me, trying desperately to see inside my brain. I just shrug.

"Nothing," she should know I'm telling the truth- it's incredibly difficult to lie to your twin. But apparently I absorbed most of her brain in the womb.

"Dennis."

"Deandra," I mock, my patience wearing thin. Before she can open her big mouth, I say, "It's just drinks, ok? I had fun last time and I figured we could all hang out. That's all."

The longer the silence lingers, the more she begins to believe me until her eyes go wide, and she gasps, "Oh my God!" Suddenly, the door crashes open and in walk Frank, Mac, and Charlie. My stomach drops. I shoot her a pleading look, but she's ecstatic.

"Don't fuck this up for me," I whisper through clenched teeth, but it's too late. Dee turns to the gang.

"Dennis has a crush!" she shouts. The guys go silent. Mac's face twists as he cocks his head to the side.

"On a girl?" Frank doesn't look convinced.

"No he doesn't," Mac says incredulously. Good boy.

"Yeah, come on, Dee, what are you saying?" Charlie laughs.

"Shut up, Dee. If Dennis had a crush I would know about it, right Dennis?" Mac flashes his puppy eyes at me.

"Yeah, for sure," I reply, and Mac gives Dee an 'I told you so' look. The wind is absolutely sucked out of her sails.

"No, no, guys, do you remember my friend from the other day?" she desperately tries to hold their attention, but they've already stopped caring. We exchange glances, but that's the last of it.

"Dennis, pour me a glass of that slippery drink," Frank says as he climbs onto a barstool. My nerves are too fried for this shit.

"How am I supposed to know what that is?"

Frank waves his hand, "I don't know, Charlie always makes it for me."

"Oh good, I'm sure it's not something poison, then."

"No, no, Dennis, see, the Borax gives it this really nice sweet metallic taste-" Charlie begins to explain, but I raise my hand to cut him off.

"You know what, Charlie? I'm going to stop you right there because Borax is the stuff we use to clean the bar towels." I turn back to Frank, "I'm not making that- you're getting a beer."

"Oh, me too, please, Dennis!" Mac chimes in as he squeezes past Dee to sit on the stool beside her, nearly knocking her off her seat.

A few hours and a couple of drinks later, the door to Paddy's opens and in you walk with a burst of cool night air. There's the clatter of pool balls as Mac stands from his shot and I smile at you from the table, leaning on my pool stick, the medication and the alcohol bringing me right back down to where I need to be.

"Hey! Look who it is!" Charlie, who is drunk enough to be slurring his words, waves you over. "Wanna see something crazy I found in the alley today?" Before he can show you whatever it is, Dee pulls you aside and shoves some strong cocktail she made into your hand. I need to intercept.

"You want another drink?" I ask Mac to cover myself. I want to sprint over to you but I need to have self control.

"Nah," thankfully, he's busy lining up and practicing his next shot. As I make my way over I can feel my heart beating against my rib cage like a trapped moth.

"Hey," I hug you, kissing you on the cheek as I lean in. You're so warm and your hair smells like shampoo.

"Hi," your face feels hot against my cheek and when I pull away I can see that it's starting to turn pink. Dee looks like she's about to throw up.

"You wanna play?" I ask, motioning to the pool stick in my right hand, "Mac and I just finished a game."

"Yeah, sure," you look so cute and you don't even have to try- though it's obvious you have. It's reassuring. You want to impress me which means Dee couldn't have told you much.

"I'll be right over, I was just gonna grab another beer," I point to the abomination Dee gave you, "You want something else?"

You blush and look over your shoulder to make sure Dee isn't paying attention before leaning in, "A beer would be great," you whisper. God, you're so sweet, so careful about my sister's feelings. I nod and give you a little wink and when you brush past me to join Mac at the pool table I'm hit with a wave of your perfume and it's just as intoxicating as the first time.

"What did you tell her?" my face is inches from her ear, causing Dee to jump and drop her phone onto the bar.

She rolls her eyes and huffs, "Nothing, weirdo. Your stupid little secret is safe with me... for now."

Great. She wants to keep me nervous, like she's got me wrapped around her finger, but she never will. That information is all I need from her. I grab the beers and head back to the pool table, ignoring her glare. There you're bent over the felt, taking notes from Mac who thinks he's giving you good advice.

"Now when you go to hit the ball, if you put your hips into it, it's like an extra boost of power," he's saying as I step up behind you.

"I don't think that's right, Mac," you reply.

"Well then how do you do it?" he challenges. I cant stop staring at your ass.

You line up your shot and strike the cue ball. It hits a stripe that ricochets off the side of the table before missing the pocket by a fraction of an inch. "Fuck," you mutter.

"See? You needed that extra push!" Mac thrusts his hips as he tries to prove his point.

"Mac, you look and sound ridiculous," I finally weigh in, setting our beers on a nearby table. "Here," I prop my stick up against the table and pick up the cue ball, placing it in its original position. "Try again," I say, and you obey. You bend back over the table and aim your stick at a different stripe ball. Such a good girl. My fingers slowly press into your hips, tilting them forward as the heel of my hand presses gently into the small of your back. I nudge your feet apart so that you're standing square. I have to step back or you'll feel how hard I'm getting. You take another shot, and the stripe falls into the pocket with a satisfying crack.

"Whatever," Mac stomps over to the bar, leaving the two of us to start our game.

I give an approving nod that I know goes straight to your panties, "That was pretty good." You lean back against the table and cross your arms over your chest, which squishes your breasts together, and you wore something low cut like a little slut. I want to take you out back and pick up where we left off, "Why don't we make this a little more interesting?" You raise an eyebrow, "How about loser goes home with the winner?"

"Hm," you match my grin, your eyes dancing, "Fine. Deal." And I'm back on. You want me, and any doubt or fear I'd held onto despite the Valium and the alcohol vanishes instantly. I begin to gather the balls for the break.

"Just out of curiosity, what do you think my chances are here?"

Without looking up, I chuckle and reply, "Slim to none." I then lift up the rack and gesture, "After you."

Ten minutes later, you lose. Of course.

"Good game," I round the table to lean next to you. You're so close I can feel the heat of your body against me and if it weren't for my friends and the accusations this afternoon, I'd kiss you. "So, did you wanna leave now, or...?" You laugh.

"I thought you were buying drinks tonight?" you challenge. It's only 10:00- the night is still young and you want a hunt. I'm more than happy to give it to you.

"Fine," the words leave my mouth faster than I can catch them, "I suppose if you're willing to release your inhibitions, I'm not going to argue." That was a bizarre thing to say. I'm still off my game, unable to reel it in because every time I look at you I think about the way you made me feel that night. To my surprise, you just giggle.

"If you slip me something, I'll pretend I didn't see," you shouldn't joke about that- I just might.

"Hey you guys wanna do some shots?" Frank shouts across the bar.

"Looks like you're up, bartender," you bat your eyelashes at me before walking over to the bar to join the rest of the gang, hips swaying, making my mouth water.

As the evening wears on, one by one they drop like flies. Charlie is the first to go- passed out in the men's restroom, an open can of paint at his side. Next is Frank, of course, sprawled over Charlie's lap and snoring like a chainsaw. Dee and Mac last until around 2AM, but after Dee throws up into the ice machine, it takes every ounce of composer for me not to lose my mind on her. You might find that unattractive. Instead I suggest she goes home, heavily implying that it's not a suggestion at all. Mac is the last to go, but he doesn't leave without asking if I need help closing about a million times and throwing you an odd look. When the door shuts and the two of us are finally alone, you lean over the bar, and I can feel your eyes on me as I wipe down the counter with an old bar towel.

"So, Dee seems to think there's an expiration date on our... whatever you wanna call this." That dumb bitch. I bet she told you all about my penchant for fleeting affairs. I bet she told you I'm a womanizer or a misogynist or just a fucking asshole. I bet she told you you were too good for me, and maybe she's right, but fuck her.

"Dee doesn't think- if she did that would imply that she has a brain," that was too mean. I can tell because you don't respond right away and I'm afraid that maybe you think I'm annoyed at you and not my idiot sister.

"If there is, that's fine," you continue carefully, "I would just like to be in the know."

"My sister believes I'm incapable of having any kind of genuine feelings toward someone I'm sleeping with," I have a feeling you'd appreciate honesty over any lie I could conjure up, even if it's a good one. You're clever. Sometimes I feel like you can see right through me and it scares the shit out of me.

You pause. "Is she right?"

"No," I've never been so sincere with a woman and it's making my palms sweat. You hold back a grin and I feel exposed, my stomach clenches, and I have to take the wheel or I'm going to start getting all nervous. I bite down on the inside of my cheek. "Alright," I pick up my jacket from behind the bar and pull my keys out of the pocket, "You wanna get out of here?"

"Absolutely."

You wait on the sidewalk as I turn off the 'Open' sign and lock the doors. Tossing the jacket into the back seat of my Range Rover, I round to your side and open the passenger door for you. As you step up to slide into the car, you lean up and kiss my cheek and I feel my entire body go numb.

"What a gentleman," you grin and bite your lip and I want to spank you but I don't because you just called me a gentleman.

We share a cigarette on the way to the apartment despite my rule against it in the car- I can't help myself, I need to taste your mouth. You tell me all about the week you had and I react as if I don't know- as if I haven't been following you around this entire time. As I slowly pull up to the building, I look up at my window where I catch a glimpse of Mac as he flips on the kitchen light and walks past. Shit. As I park the car, I figure the best I can do is bring you upstairs and hope Mac sees it as an easy fallback- if I could get Dee's friend once, might as well get her again while she's around, right? That cover story would have to do.

You follow me into the building and up the stairs, pausing at the door as I sort through the keys. Just as I touch the key to the lock, the door jerks open.

"Oh thank God- I heard you coming down the hallway- hey can you help me-" Mac is breathless as he speaks, but when his eyes fall on you he abruptly stops. "Uh, hey." He smiles at you to mask his confusion.

"Long time, no see," you joke and he lets out a short laugh before glancing at me. I glare back at him, challenging him to choose his words carefully.

"Yeah... So what are you guys up to tonight?" Wrong. I clench my jaw. What do you think?

"We were just going to go watch a movie," I squint at Mac, hoping he'll get the hint to shut up and go away.

"Oh, cool, well... have fun," Mac looks for approval, but I deny him the satisfaction, brushing past him and pulling you along until we're both in my bedroom behind a locked door. The reality of having you alone in here is indescribable. It's all nerves and appetite in the dim blue light. It all feels so good in the dark.

I'm willing to behave, but as I move towards the television, your body collides into mine, your lips on my neck, teeth grazing my skin. I already like this game more than any other we've played.

"Are you gonna fuck me tonight, daddy?" your voice in my ear sends chills down my arms. Your generation is so needy, and I knew you were dangerous when you let me come close to choking you in the alley that night, but I've been looking through your laptop when you leave it at home, your phone when you were sleeping the night I claimed you. I've seen your search history, the things you watch at 3AM when you're lonely in bed and undoubtedly thinking of me. You're depraved.

"Oh yeah, kitten," my fingers weave through the hair at the base of your skull. I tug hard and you gasp, chin tilted upward, throat exposed. You shiver when I run my tongue from your collarbone to the curve of your jaw. I nip your earlobe before pushing you away roughly.

You stumble back and bite your lip, waiting for a command. It's been two weeks since we met, and one intimate encounter and you're already so eager to obey. God, you're perfect. "Take your clothes off," our eyes are locked, and I don't let you look away. It's almost sacrilegious that you're still fully clothed- here in my room, you belong naked. Always. You pull your shirt over your head and reach behind for your bra. "No," my voice stops you on a dime, "Slower," I demand as I step back and sit down on the edge of my bed.

From here, I watch the way your breath hitches when the cups of your bra brush your nipples as it slides down your arms and falls to the floor, the way you rub your thighs together before pushing your jeans to your ankles, the way you look at me- standing there, in just your underwear, exposed- like a fawn in the soft glow of the city night that filters through the window.

"Come here," you look like you want to jump into my lap, but you're being so disciplined with me. And why wouldn't you be? I'm your elder, I command respect, and it's my job to teach you manners. You slowly walk over and straddle my hips before planting yourself on my thighs, your hands pressed against my chest.

I wonder if you can feel my entire body buzzing beneath you. You've been waiting for this, too. I can tell. You're absolutely ravenous with it. Usually I would find this kind of behavior to be slightly endearing if not pathetic, but I want you so bad it's only driving me further down the rabbit hole. You're allowing me to control you and it's like it's the only thing I've ever truly wanted. I wonder how far you'll let me go. Not tonight. I want you to trust me- I /need/ you to trust me. So for now I'll play nice. If you want daddy to fuck you, then I will. I'll make you think I love you, princess.

I slip a hand between us and press my index and middle finger to your clothed cunt. It's already soaked through the fabric. I watch your pupils blow out as I push your panties aside and touch you, dipping both fingers into your soft, wet folds and sliding them up to meet your clit. You let out a soft mewl and I have to remind myself to breathe. Usually it's all about me, and why wouldn't it be? I'm the man after all. But I need you to know how good I can make you feel so that it hurts even more when I teach you what pain really is. I'm going to make you cum over and over again in every way I can possibly think of, and then, I'm going to deprive you. I can't wait to watch the light slip out of your eyes when you realize the fun is over, that you're mine, that your only purpose is to please me.

I can't help myself- without warning, I plunge my fingers into your tight little hole. You rise, yelp, jerk away at the sudden intrusion, but I'm much stronger than you, and an arm around your waist holds you in place.

"Shh," I swirl my fingers inside of you and you cringe, but this time, you stay seated like a good girl. You like it when I hurt you. I reward you with patience- pumping my fingers in and out of you slowly, gently spreading them as I go, stretching you out. You moan and slump into me, your face to my neck, planting lazy kisses as I work on your pussy. I feel like I'm going to black out. My clothes are suffocating. When I pull my hand away from your heat, you whine. I wrap both arms around you and flip you onto your back so that I'm on top of you, my knees between your legs, arms on either side of your rib cage. I sit up for a moment to remove my shirt, unbuckle my pants. You bite your lip and I reach down and run my thumb along your jaw. You lean in to my touch and when I get to your chin I gently pull your bottom lip from between your teeth. And then the pad of my thumb is pressing down on your tongue.

"You look so pretty," and you do- looking up at me through your eyelashes, sucking on my thumb, body nearly naked beneath me. Nearly. I pull my hand away from your face and nudge your hips. You lift them and I slide your panties down enough for you to relax back into the mattress. As I begin to work the thin fabric down your legs, something comes over me, and I back down off the bed and kneel on the floor. You sit up, watching me, eyes going wide when I grab your ankles and tug you closer. I haven't done this in a really long time. A really long time. I'm not nervous, but my heart is racing.

I pull you a little closer, and this time I'm more gentle. You inhale sharply when I drape your knees over my shoulders and the flutter of my breath hits your glistening cunt. When I look up at you, your eyes lock with mine, and I take the opportunity to slowly lower my head between your thighs. I watch your face as I press the flat of my tongue against your hole and drag it up. You taste so good, better than I'd imagined. Your fingers curl into my hair, and the dull burn in my scalp feels so good, I pull away a little just to feel your grip tighten as you whine and tug me back into you.

I hear you breathe my name as I relearn how to do this. I had been certain there wasn't a thing about sex that you could teach me, yet here we are. And I want to make you feel good. I want to be the best you've ever had. I need to be. So I take it slow, I pay attention to the way your body moves, the sounds you make, the pace of your breath, the rate of your pulse against my mouth.

I pull away for a moment for air, turn my face into your inner thigh and close my teeth around your soft flesh and you gasp and pull my hair so hard my head feels like it's on fire, so instead of letting go, I leave a dark purple hickey in the center of the indentation my teeth made on your skin. You moan and it rattles through me and I'm back to devouring you. I add a finger, then two, then three, and the sounds you're making are absolutely obscene and I think I'm getting you closer.

You squeeze down on my fingers and I swear to god I feel it on my dick. I groan into you and the vibration makes you flutter around me again and I touch myself with my free hand. I might actually cum from this. Your legs start to shake on my shoulders, and I focus on doing everything right as you whimper and moan and white knuckle my sheets.

"Dennis," your voice breaks through our syncopated panting and makes my dick twitch in my hand and if my eyes were open you would see them roll to the back of my head. The pressure is building- I feel your thighs tense against my ears, and I'm beginning to lose my pace on myself- it all feels so overwhelmingly good. I open my eyes to see your chest rising and falling quickly. Like a trapped rabbit. My teeth graze against your flesh and I nip at you lightly, shove my tongue inside of you, replace it with my fingers once again as I suck and bite at your clit. You let out one loud scream before remembering where you are, and sob as you teeter on the edge of climax.

"Daddy, c-can I-" you clench your jaw and knit your brow and it's so cute that you can't even use your words, and it's so cute that you call me daddy, and I'm about to cum, too, so all I can say is:

"Yeah, princess," and you're cumming around my fingers, against my open mouth as I spill out over the carpet and think vaguely about the stain. I thought you tasted good before, but now, I'm ravenous, and I love the way you tremble as I refuse to let up.

A few seconds later, you're cumming again, and if it wasn't for the alcohol and my medication, I would be ready for round two. Instead, I clean you up with my tongue and you scratch my head in sweet little circles as you come down. When your fingers find the space behind my ears my whole body tingles and it's like you've hit some sort of off switch. You giggle when I moan and close my eyes and rest my head against your thigh.

"I always catch you doing this," you take my earlobe between your thumb and forefinger and rub it a little, "What's up with that?" I hum at the familiar feeling coming from unfamiliar hands.

"I've been doing it since I was little," I mumble as you continue to make my brain short circuit, "I do it when I'm nervous," I'm not sure why I told you that part.

"You were doing it at the bar tonight," you comment, and despite the pleasure, my body tenses a little, "Do I make you nervous?"

When I open my eyes and look up at you, you're looking right through me, into my soul. I can't lie.

"Yes," and it makes me crazy. You smile.

"Good. That must mean you really like me."

I roll my eyes and sneak a quick nip to the inside of your thigh where my cheek was resting. You yelp and sit up to smack at me but I'm faster and I'm on top of you, pinning you by the wrists as you laugh. I hate how vulnerable you make me, all twisted up and trapped inside, and I feel like I need to contain you, but my hands on your wrists and my weight on top of you isn't enough. You have invaded every part of me, and it's too much.

"Well?" I can hear the smile in your voice even though my face is buried in your neck.

"Yeah, yeah," I feel like I'm in high school. You're younger than me and here I am blushing into the crook of your shoulder.

"Cool," your fingers slip through the hair at the base of my skull, "I like you, too." And even though I know that, the wave of relief that rolls over me makes me physically relax.

"Then you're staying," it's something between a question and a statement because the adrenaline is still making my head fuzzy. With my ear against your chest I can hear the methodical beat of your heart behind your sternum. I can't remember a time I was this intimate with someone. I want to get up, wash my face, grab you some of my clothes to wear, but my skin feels stuck to yours and your fingers in my hair is turning me off again. The air conditioner hums to life in my window and I feel the goosebumps pick up on your arms, your legs, the cool breeze ghosting over the thin sheen of sweat on your body. I sigh as I pick myself up off of you. I walk over to my dresser and tug open the top drawer, pulling out one of my Penn sweatshirts and toss it to you.

You bring the ball of fabric to your face, close your eyes and inhale. "You know this is mine, now," you say as you pull it over your head and hug yourself. I wish you weren't joking- I would love to see you in my sweatshirt every day for the rest of your life. I hope you wear it home tomorrow. I hope you don't go home at all. Next I throw you a pair of my boxers and when you stand and shimmy them up your legs, they hang so loosely off of your hips that I can almost see the v of your pelvis before you smooth the sweatshirt back down.

You hop back onto the bed and burrow under the covers, and I go to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. By the time I get back, you're sound asleep, your head on my pillow, filling my bed with the smell of your shampoo and body wash and lotion and perfume and you. I'm careful not to disturb you as I make my way into bed, as if you might leave if you wake up. When I wrap my arms around you and pull you into me, you murmur in your sleep and relax into my chest. I probably won't get much rest tonight, so I just enjoy the feeling of your warmth against me and the sound of your breathing as I think of how I'm going to explain this to my friends.

[rjschoicesstuff]

2, 27, 35, 59 for the poly asks for Rippy Gabe Cas

Thank uuu!!

Link to the ask game

Answers under the cut

2. Did the relationship start polyamorous, or was it a monogamous relationship that eventually opened?

Cas and Gabe were in a mono relationship back when they were human (+ a bit as vampires). This somehow feels relevant LOL. This is just specific 2 my version btw @ ppl who never read ID lol 💀.

When it's made Official they're in a vee relationship, but also before that there's definitely already Stuff going on obviously, with Cas DEFINITELY not being open to it and Gabriela also preferring to keep it between them (tho definitely is more like Ripley is free to choose and I would be okay as long as I fit in that picture). I think right before Gabriela went feral and almost kills Ripley they were very close to making it official between them, I think. 2 bad for Gabe That happens and Ripley actually starts looking at Cas differently and he becomes an Option.

27. Of the members who live together, do they all sleep in one bed too? All separate bedrooms? Something in-between?

Right Now none of them live together, Cas and Gabe live with fake families (as do all teen vampires who are currently in school) and Ripley stays at the Nexus until she gets a GRIP lol. I think her bed there is definitely too small for it but Cas still sleeps over a lot. Partly because it's easier to skip school when there's no one to get pissed when you don't get up in the morning. I feel like sometimes she's just like pls no n makes him sleep in her beanbag instead, or they both stay up all night.

Once Ripley moves back in with her mom Cas and Gabe will be staying over there a lot but Ripley's bed there definitely doesn't fit 3 people so one of them always has to go on a mattress on the floor next to her bed.

Im not sure about the future yet but I do like the idea of Gabriela going to university in a big city on a leyline with an allied coven and Cas and Ripley following her and Ripley going to trade school + working part time, while Cas actually gets a job too (everyone is surprised) so they can afford an apartment/a studio, while Gabriela stays in the dorms at her university. And she'd stay with Cas and Ripley often because their bed is big enough for the 3 of them. And otherwise Cas and Ripley just share the bed when Gabe stays at her dorm.

I think after that they'd NOT want to live with parents, real or fake, again, at least for this life. So they'd hire an apartment in Crimson Beech. I think they'd all sleep together but they'd have a guest room where people can retreat to if needed, it def isn't big enough for all of them to have their own room. + also with how vampire sleep works (I hc that they do sleep but they don't really need it, like it serves more to give the brain a break than for rest) some days someone just skips sleeping anyway.

35. Were any of the members raised in a polyamorous family?

None of them were. I think Ripley got the closest experience to it with her mom's friends helping a lot in raising her to the point where it felt like having many parental figures, but in the end her mom was her only parent + never dated anymore at all after her last girlfriend passed away (a few years before Ripley was born).

59. How does the polycule celebrate birthdays?

Not in any super special ways, like the other two will generally buy presents separately + beforehand they tend to decide on if the birthday person wants to plan the day or have the others surprise them with something. + they spoil the bday person all day ofc lol. I think for Cas and Gabe it's all pretty new because I think neither of them really celebrated their birthdays the past decades aside from Gabe with her human friends the past few years. I think a lot of vampires don't but I can see them keeping it up because it's just nice for everyone to have Their Day.

[hectorthedoggo]

Hiii, I’m currently reading your Fugue route two fic and I wanna share a small theory?

Okay so- im in chapter 14 and reason why I spurred to write this was because of the comment about the cape. ‘A cape torn and an egg shel broken too soon” I think the term you used was- I had a theory that the cape was meant to sorta of protect Es. Shielding him from the world, more specifically, the reality he is facing. To me it’s most prominent due to the fact that he uses it to sleep (in my honest opinion I don’t think all his ‘naps’ or rests were just that.) now that Amane has killed her mother, he automatically reverted into old habits. The sight of blood triggering something in him. And this time, there’s no one there to lock it away. Causing cracks in his reality.

Moving on from the cape, the keys. The keys have very important significance, especially due to the fact that they warm up when he’s spiraling. Or when he was panicking and put it back on, describing it as “the emotions receding”. Due to this I believe the keys control some form of emotion, and memory.

See, in the beginning it mentioned that the fourth key was new. Meaning that it was likely put on Es the night BEFORE or early mornings. The keys also go warm when it talks about specific victims to the disappearances. Meaning, they could be holding lost memories. Or at the very least, the identities of the person. Seeing as Es saw THREE shadow figures (one likely being the sister, another maybe a friend of hers, and Amanes mom). These keys could be obscuring the identities to help conceal the memories , maybe a safety precautionary in case Es was ever taken.

Another idea is that each key unlocks a new part of Es, his background before jackalope, jackalope himself maybe, emotions maybe, and the part that helps. That last part is likely where his memories of the incidents lay. The keys in general seem to work as a means to control Es as is. A brainwashing mechanism, which is where the emotions come to play. As mentioned from the ‘emotions receding’ part, the keys were also likely used to regulate his emotions. Of course he still FEELS them, but only in Situations that bring up topics that likely relate to him. And I doubt jackalope expected something like that to happen, after all he was locking him up and had him in a strick schedule.

Also, reason why jackalope is brought up a lot is due to the fact that- jackalope is the only thing Es has ever known. He even acknowledges. Which is why he’s so scared when he realizes- there was extra chairs, the pudding, and everything else.

This brings me into my Theory; the disappearances. I think it was said the disappearances occurred a decade ago. Meaning through out the years, there were people going missing. Likely at random times due to jackalope not getting caught. OR, he used psychological warfare on them and let (some of) them go. Semi- counting on them to commit sewerslide(likely not).

The viginette posted is also very important. I’m it we see a room, with a child crying, and a man with a cape who’s face is obscured. I think, that man is jackalope. Seeing as magic is a thing in this world, and seeing What he did to Amane , it’s not unlikely he can transform. And in which, he takes the form of a jackalope, likely to make es feel somewhat more comfortable with him, but also as a safety precaution. And that child in the viginette? Es. A much younger es but still es. He’s fifteen now, and the disappearances happened 10 years ago, making him five. Likely, one of the first, or THE first victim.

I think, at first jackalope used him as some sort of- advantage over the others. Whether he realizes this or not is unknown. However what is known, is that when he was 11-12 he grew curious. He had suspicions, and he grew doubts. And just like Icarus, he flew too close to the sun and died. This is further proven by two things; he at the very least had semi better memories at those younger age, and his total lack of memories from ages 13–14.

It is very likely he found out something he shouldn’t have, likely , including the victims. Due to this, jackalope did something to him. Likely blocking his memory, and when that happened- he had an idea. Have the kid help. And I think that’s where it began. I think he had him help. In cleaning the aftermath, and putting them against each other. Earlier mentions that the kidnapper liked to put them against each other. And so far, two people have mentioned a poor boy left behind. And how, the sister said- the boy probably hates her. She likely did something when jackalope put them against each other. Maybe that’s why the first shadow figure we see is so desperate to chase down Es.

As for his obsession on law, it’s a big back to the original Es who’s a warden. How that plays into here I have yet to figure out-

I think I had more but that’s all for now- sorry for the VERY LONG things…I yap..

:P

[suns-diary]

trying to sleep as general sale is in 7 hours and im going to need at least two hours in the morning to collect myself. then I find out noel & liam are going on holiday with their family for the first time in decades😂

[theleopardatemyhomework]

April 25th, 2024

today I learned how to say dinosaur 공룡. Hella hard. I also ordered some cool Adidas Sambas, which are objectively sick as fuck

On a less "sick as fuck" note, I saw an Instagram post that really fucked me up. I was doing well, and then all of a student single unhealed thing from the last 2 years was triggered. Let's pump the breaks and be my own big sister for a second. If we can't be sick as fuck, we can at least be as objective as fuck. 1. "I don't daydream of you anymore, but I think of you when I wash my dishes." 2. " Do you tell our story fondly?" - "You were never the villain in mine." 3. " I never wished you ill. I hope you find the peace I never was" (this one fucked me up the most) 4. "In another life, we learned to talk. I was unhurt, and you healed." So here I am, sitting on my bed at 12:16 in the morning, feeling stuffed full and minorly sick from stress-eating bread and cookies all day, and all I want to do is call him. Or text him. Or know if he still thinks of me, too.

But I can't do any of those things because he wanted this, and I must respect that. Sure, I could call him, but what's really the outcome of that? I must reground myself. Let's lay out a little play-by-play of how it will go.

I will call, and he might not pick up. Then I'll be super emerased and that will lead to a whole other string of questions. "Why didn't he pick up? What's he doing right now? Is it because he's asleep? Doesn't he want to talk? Playing hard to get? Is he enjoying this? Does he hate me? Oh god, this is embarrassing, Emily. Why did you call him, ugh, stop this, look at yourself..." and then I will cry myself to sleep. Woohoo. But, if he does pick up, he may say, "Hey, what's up?" And I'll say, "Not much, you? And he will say, "Not much, how are you?" and then I'll lie and say, "im good", and he will know im lying because if I wasn't, why would I be calling him? And we might talk, and I'll embarrass myself by saying a bunch of stuff promoted by that sad Instagram post at 1 in the morning, and then he will pity me, and say something like "it's okay, you're doing great", and then ill feel guilty for putting him in a situation where he comforts me despite his own pain, creating this power dynamic and yadda yadda yadda.

That's not what I want. Plus, I can not relinquish the single sliver of power and self-dignity I have left. I have no one but myself. I am all that I have. Just me. I don't really feel like I have any true friends because I don't think myself capable of having real friends while I hate myself as much as I do. Apparently, it isn't normal to wonder if your friends hate you all the time. Maybe i should start with loving myself, or rather, becoming a person I feel is worthy of love. I have come to realize that I really am not happy with who I am as a person.

And what would be the outcome of this phone call? What is the "best" situation? We get back together? And then what? Trapped back in this endless cycle - on and off, to either be together forever or inevitably break up again? Is that really what I want? To feel this pain all over again in a few months, years, decades? Thats it. There are only 2 ways relationships can end. You are together forever, or you break up. What the fuck is up with that. Why is life so short. The bliss of love and despair of loss - those are two pretty harsh extremes to experience in our few years on this earth.

Maybe I can become a monk and figure out what this "love" thing really is about. The only problem is I just don't look good in orange, and they don't drive Porsches. Let's put a pin in that one. I must re-ground. This is hard, but everyone goes through it. Things weren't perfect (although the negative memories seemed to elude me, annoyingly).

Anyways,

[sporesmoldsfungus]

Safety Net | Egon Spengler x Reader

Hi Everyone! This is my first time writing for Egon and I would be lying If I said I did not thoroughly enjoy myself. Im still figuring out how to use Tumblr, so any tips would be well appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 3.1K

Side note: look how cute our man is in this gif, I cannot deal!!!

******

You grimace as you put your sleeve over your mouth, the smoke from the trap causing you to cough in reaction. 

“I Don’t think I will ever get used to that smell” You murmur to Ray as you pass him the trap. You were both currently out of town on a job for an old opera house. The job required you to stay at a hotel last night so you could catch the ghost in question early that morning. The ghost busters usually didn’t accept jobs from out of town, but when the owner of the opera house mentioned a large check, Peter could not say no. Of course, he had no intention of doing the job himself, which was why you and Ray were in the current situation. 

“Egon said it has something to do with the negative energy the ghost emit when captured” Ray explained, he also grimaced as he took the trap from you. He brought the trap over to Ecto-1 and threw it in the back before closing the door. “I cannot wait to get back and sleep in my own bed” He sighed. 

“Yeah, me too. Those hotel beds were horrible” you agreed as you made your way towards the driver’s side of the car. Ray had drove you both to the location, you thought you would return the favour by driving home. “I’ll make sure the invoice for those rooms go to Venkman, he’s the reason we had to do this job in the first place” You joke.

“Always the same, even in college he always got the best side of the deal” Ray agreed as he got into his side of the car, immediately putting the heaters on after he sat down.”

“Oh please don’t remind me of Peter’s Sorority years, I’ve had enough pain today to last me at least a week” You grumble as you gently rubbed your neck. The ghost you had been hired to capture had a little bit of a nasty streak. Just as you were about to capture it, it had thrown you back into a wall, your neck and shoulder hadn’t felt right since. 

Ray chuckled before asking in a concerned tone. “Are you alright to drive? I don’t mind switching”.

“I’ll be okay, an ice pack at home should do the trick” You smiled before turning the car on and starting your journey home. Ray’s selflessness was one of your favourite things about the scientist. No matter what the situation, Ray always offered to help. 

******

You firstly met Ray, Egon and Peter around eight years ago at Columbia University. As you walked through the door to your first lecture on parapsychology, you had noticed there was only one seat left available to sit in. Next to the free seat, sat the dorkiest man you had ever set eyes on. He had large round glasses that were definitely a decade out of fashion, but you couldn’t picture him wearing any other style. His slightly curly hair was neatly kept, and you couldn’t help but wonder what routine he used to tame it. The more you stared, the more you admired how beautiful this man was. From the way he had dressed himself in a suit just for a lecture, to the way his forehead was slightly creased due to the front on his face as he read over a book. 

You slowly made your way over to the empty seat, hesitating before sitting down. “Is this seat taken?” you asked softly, a small blush covered your cheeks and nose.

The man’s head rose to look up at you, his frown softening as he looked at you. It felt like he had been staring at you for an hour before he eventually cleared his throat. “uh, no this seat is free” he nodded before awkwardly going back to his book. 

You gave a small smile and sat down on the stool. As you brought your textbooks from your bag, you caught a glimpse of what the man next to you was reading. “you’re a fan of Joseph Rhine?”.

“Uhh, just a little bit of light reading” he replied hesitantly, as if he didn’t realise you were talking to him at first. 

You gave a small nod. “I’m more a fan of Arthur Doyle, myself”

“The sherlock Holmes author?” he asked sceptically.

You gave an enthusiastic nod “Yes, many people don’t know that he actually does research in telepathy and seances too”.  Just like every time you talked about anything on the lines of parapsychology, you could feel yourself becoming excited. Your family did everything in attempt to get you to choose a more ‘normal’ degree like English or Biology, but nothing could have possibly changed your mind. 

“interesting” he mumbled; his face looked as if it was deep in thought for a moment before he opened up a notebook, and scribbled down the author’s name. 

“My name is Y/N, by the way” you stuck your hand towards the man, a gentle smile on your lips. You were trying your best to follow your mother’s advice she had given you on the phone this morning. ‘Any day, is a successful day, if you meet a new friend’. 

The man returned a very small smile before gently taking your hand. “Egon Spengler”

“Lovely to meet you Egon”.

What you were unaware of that day, was why Egon had been sitting alone, when in fact his two best friends were sat directly behind him. Peter and Ray were well aware of Egon’s most important rule. ‘I forbid anybody to sit next to me in lectures, talking is a distraction of learning’.  Almost every day he had turned people down who were looking for a spare seat, earning his friends to cringe away in embarrassment each time. However, when he had looked at you, something changed. He realised that he, for some reason, would not mind being distracted by you. Of course, he later went home and tried to conduct a full study on why he felt this way, but it took him four years before he later came up with a reasonable conclusion. 

Later that day, you were introduced to Ray and Peter, through the expense of Egon being the centre of one of Peter’s jokes. After that day on, the four of you had been close friends ever since. 

******

After complaining about New York traffic for at least thirty minutes, you finally drove into the firehouse, sighing with content as you parked the car. “Home, sweet, home”. 

As you got out of the car, a floating green blob flew towards you, it’s stick like arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Awhh, I missed you too slimer” You chuckled as you hugged the ghost back. 

“How come he never slimes you; I swear he has full control of that stuff” Peter grumbled as he walked out his office and headed towards you. 

“Oh Peter, are you jealous that slimer loves me more? I’m sure he’d love to come and give you a cuddle too” You joked as you let go of the ghost, a mischievous smirk on your face. 

“Don’t you dare” He warned, his eyes narrowing as he spoke slowly. 

“Fine, you win this time. However, me and Ray have decided you are getting invoiced for those hotel rooms, after all, it was your call to take”. 

Peter struggled to find a reply for a moment before sighing in defeat. “Whatever, just give the papers to Janine, I’m too tired to debate this one out”. 

“What’s the matter? You’re not sick are you” You asked genuinely. If needed, Peter normally had the social skills to sell ice to someone who lived in the North pole. 

“No, I’m not sick. But considering I’m paying for the hotel rooms, I need to call in a favour from you too” He replied, leaning against the side of Ecto-1 as he spoke. 

You stopped unloading the equipment from the back to give him your full attention. “I’m not taking the blame again for you not closing the containment unit correctly”

“You forgot to close the containment unit again!” Ray rushed from behind the car, his face frantic as he looked between you and Peter. 

“No! The containment unit is fine! Gosh, what do you people take me for?” Peter replied quickly, finishing the sentence with a scoff.  “I’m calling in a favour because Spengz hasn’t left the lab since you went on that call”. He finally explained. 

Your heart sunk a little as Peter spoke. It was not unusually for Egon to spend hours at a time in the lab, but you and Ray had been gone for over twenty-four hours. Egon tended to go through stages where he become so fixated on science, his personal health was forgotten to him. He had the potential to go days without eating or sleeping, which often made him ill and even more stressed out for a few days. The boys did their best to encourage Egon to stop working, but it just resulting in them being thrown out of the lab. The boys sometimes called you their “secret weapon” which they would release when things got bad. 

You gave a sad sigh and nodded in understanding to Peter. “I’ll try my best” you muttered as you took a bag from ecto-1’s side door. You and Ray had picked up some snacks on the way home from your call that you were going to attempt to use. 

You headed downstairs and gently tapped on the lab door before entering. “Guess who’s back” you said cheerily, trying your best to act like you were unaware of Egon’s shenanigans. When you entered the lab, he was sat at his desk, microscope at hand. 

“Hey Sweetheart” he said softly, although you could hear the tired undertone in his voice. “How did the call go?”.

“It was just a class three, nothing we could not deal with. Although, it did get a little aggressive at the end” You explained as you came up and hugged him from behind. 

He gave a soft smile and rested one hand on your arms that were wrapped around him, his other hand continued to write down his notes from the microscope. “You must be tired from the drive home, why don’t you go and get some rest” He suggested. 

“Well, I was thinking perhaps me and you could get something to eat first?” you tried at your first attempt of dragging him from the lab. “We could order from your favourite Thai place.” You bribed. 

“That sounds great, but I really need to finish my work on this new slime sample.” Egon replied with a sigh as he continued to work with his microscope. “I really think I’m onto something with this sample, the electrochemical bond is unlike any other we’ve encountered”. 

“Oh, okay” you gave a small nod, thinking how this was going to be harder than you thought. “Well, I bought some snack on the way home from the call, we could share them in the meantime?” You suggested as you walked over to grab the bag you had put on the counter. 

“I would, but I really need to test the polarity of this sample” He abstained.

“Egon, you taking a five-minute break to eat sugary treats with me will not cause Gozer to raise from the dead.”

This time he finally looked up at you, a million thoughts seemed to be going through his head before he finally said. “Okay, but only a few minutes” He agreed, moving over to the other counter to sit next to you. 

‘Result!’ you thought. 

You gave him a bright smile and laid out the packets of food in front of you both. 

“So, did Peter behave himself whilst I was away?” You joked as you opened as packet of crisps. 

Egon hummed. “Peter behaved like Peter, if that answers your question.”  He also opened a box of twinkies as he spoke.  “I suppose it does” You agreed. “I also came up with a new theory” You announced. 

“And what would that be?” 

“Peter actually loves having slimer around. In fact, I think slimer is Peter’s favourite supernatural entity.”

Egon gave a low chuckle and you mentally ticked off another achievement box.

“Are you sure you’re not lacking sleep? That’s the most impossible theory you have conducted” Egon asked with a small smile. 

“Oh, I’m exhausted, those hotel beds should be burnt, they were horrible!” You exclaimed. You moved your neck side to side in order to relieve some of the tension. As you did so, your hair moved to the side, giving a plain sight to the side of your neck. 

Any humour that Egon had managed to gather instantly left his face at the sight of your neck. Right under your hairline, a purply black bruise began to form.

 Your neck and shoulders had been aching ever since the ghost had thrown you back into the wall. You had gotten your fair number of beatings when being on calls, but you always managed to just walk them off. You thought this was just like other times, but you were unaware of how much your neck was bruising. 

Egon slowly reached up and brushed the hair from the side of your neck, exposing more of the skin. You couldn’t help but wince a little from the pain. 

“What did this to you?” He whispered; his voice barely auditable.

You hesitated a little. “The ghost I said that got a little aggressive, he had a thing for throwing people too” You replied with an award chuckle, trying your best to lighten the mood. 

Egon clenched his jaw. “You need to ice this” he mumbled before going over to the lab freezer and pulling out an ice pack. Before he placed the ice pack on your neck, he very gently tied your hair back with the hair tie you conveniently had on your wrist. You tried your best not to wince which caused him to murmur a small “sorry”.

“I’m okay. Honestly, it doesn’t hurt that much” You reassured, taking his place of holding the icepack to the bruise. 

He sat back down next to you and gently took your free hand. “Y/N, you should really go and rest.” He told you softly, but with an authoritative undertone. “An injury like this is only going to heal with rest.”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, really looked at him. The man before you looked exhausted. His eyes were dark but were still looking at you with pure love, His skin was slightly pale and his face had a slightly sad aura. Despite your friends attempts, nobody could persuade Egon to look after himself in the last twenty-four hours, but here he was, fully invested in your health and safety. Oh, the irony. 

“Are you in any pain?” He asked sadly, his eyes frowning a little as he noticed your eyes starting to glass over a little with tears. 

You slightly shook your head before leaning over and gently placing your lips to his. He seemed to relax at your touch, something that he had developed overtime. “I’ll make you a deal” You whispered as you pulled back to look at him, your face still quite close to his. 

He gently rubbed the back of your hand he was still holding with his thumb. He remained quiet, waiting for you to continue. 

“I will take a nap and rest my neck, but only if you come and keep me company” You bargained sweetly. 

Egon let out a sigh, he looked over his should at the slime sample before looking back to you. “Alright” He agreed. “But you’re keeping the icepack on” He added as he stood up, his hand remaining around yours as he led you upstairs and up to the bedrooms. You and Janine had your own bedroom with two double beds. Meanings that Janine hardly stayed at the firehouse, you and Egon had partly claimed the room for yourselves. 

“Now lovebirds, I don’t want to hear any noises coming from that room” Peter joked loudly as you and Egon got to the top floor. 

“Oh slimer! Peter said he wants a cuddle!” You yelled loudly with a huge smirk. The distant yelling of peter could be heard as Egon closed the bedroom door.

“I love that little ghost” You beamed as you got a set of pyjamas for you and Egon from the wardrobe. 

You both began to change into your pyjamas, Egon having to help you pull your t-shirt over your head due to the pain of your neck. As you got into bed, you gently took off Egon’s glasses and set them on the nightstand on your side of the bed, just in case he got any ideas about going back to the lab. You were a light sleeper and would wake up if he decided to slip out through the night. 

Egon wrapped his arms around you as you cuddled up to him, doing his best to avoid your neck at all costs. Just as you were about to drop off to sleep, he mumbled “I’m sorry”. You gave a small frown and opened your eyes again. “You have nothing to be sorry for” you said almost instantly. You repositioned yourself so you were resting on his chest but looking up at him. 

“I didn’t realise I was worrying people again” he said softly, looking down at you as he spoke. It had finally sunk in why you and his friends had been asking him to eat and rest a lot recently.

Your heart almost broke when you realised what he meant. “Oh Egon” You whispered sadly. You reached up and gently kissed his lips, his hand coming up to your cheek as you melted into each other’s grasp. “We all care about you so much” you told him sincerely. 

He gave a small nod before softly kissing you again. “Get some rest” he mumbled as he pulled away.  He gave the top of your head a small kiss as you repositioned yourself on his chest. 

Egon acknowledging why people were worried was the winning streak in your eyes. He was not somebody who needed to be told something many times, as soon as he acknowledged an issue, he would do his best to change things. 

“Goodnight, my love” “Goodnight, Sweetheart”

[writtenfangirl]

Good morning/afternoon/ night! Im sorry to bother you, but I just finished reading youre," Broken Promises" post and I just wanted to say it was so amazingly good! I would like to ask if you could possibly make a part 2 where Steve finds out that the reader had left and maybe just the aftermath of everything. (If you mentioned/made a part 2 already and this is all non needed Im sorry I must have skiped over it lol) anyways, if you get to read this I hope you have had a good day and thank you for wrighting such a masterpiece even tho you said you didn't like it to much(which would be another good reason to ignor my ask)

Have an amazing day!(sorry this is so long. I've never made an ask before and I nerviously ramble.)

Broken Promises pt. 2

This took forever. College is a nightmare and I will never encourage anyone to go through it ever.

The whole fic's 6,544 words so it's quite lengthy. It's also unedited.

Link to Part 1: Broken Promises

Dear Steve,

I’m sorry. 

I know my apologies are not enough and will never be enough. There is nothing I could possibly say or do that could absolve me of my sins. I—

The words were a pitiful imitation of her true feelings. She was never a powerful writer and though she hoped to send a message to Steve—even one that didn’t properly encapsulate her feelings—in the hopes that he may one day forgive her, she refused to send him this. 

She let out a growl of frustration before she crumpled the paper in her hand and set it aflame, the temperature so high that it didn’t even leave a speck of ash. 

Two months. 

That’s how long it’d been since she last spoke to Steve, since she left Earth to become Queen of Asgard. Since she abandoned the man she loved to fulfill her duties to her people.

Two months of pain and misery. 

Two months of teary nights and anguished mornings.

Two months of self-reproach and restless sleep.

She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor of her room. She only had one destination in mind, the same destination she went to every time she remembered Steve. Which, in truth, was nearly every hour of every waking day. 

What was Steve eating for breakfast?

What was Steve doing now?

What did Steve say when he saw her leave him?

How did he react when he say her message?

Did he hate her?

Did he feel abandoned?

Will he ever forgive her?

Will—

She let out another frustrated groan before she stopped the questions that began filling her mind. She was beginning to spiral again. One thought led to another and before she knew it, she was curled up in a ball somewhere in the darkest corner of Asgard, bawling her eyes out as guilt, resentment, pain and hurt consumed her. 

Her mother or one of her brothers usually went to find her when she was having one of her episodes. The thought of one of them finding her again had a flush of embarrassment reddening her cheeks.

She was never one to take note of the passing of time. As the goddess of the sun and of prophecy, she was aware that the future was not concrete and that time was fluid. There was also the fact that she was an immortal. Counting time was futile, at least she use to think so. 

Now it’s all she did. 

Two months, three days, 8 minutes and 12 seconds since she left Earth. 

Days felt like weeks and weeks felt like decades. She felt as though she’d aged centuries in the few months she spent on Asgard and if it wasn’t for her reflection in the mirror every morning, she would have thought she’d look as old as her father did before he passed. 

She grunted before her elegant purple gown burned away into her golden armor. 

She just wanted to go hit something. 

Or someone. 

It didn’t really matter. All she wanted to do was find an outlet for her emotions before she set fire to the palace. 

She was never a hateful creature but resentment had begun to build at her heart and seeing her brothers happy, or at the very least content, with their lot in life had jealousy writhing in her body. 

She used to be happy once.

Now all she felt was anger and resentment. 

She never let that cloud her judgement though. 

Despite her father’s death and the expectation that the Nine Realms would fall in chaos as the crown passed hands, the Nine Realms was prospering. Not even Jotunheim had thought to launch an assault against her. Her kingdom was at peace, her subjects were happy and they would prosper and thrive. 

She almost resented that too. 

She never thought herself a hateful person but sacrificing everything she ever wanted, her happiness and a future with the man she loved, would have turned even a saint into the same bitter creature she was now.

She trudged out of her room, out of the golden palace and walked the long path towards the rainbow bridge. 

She ignored her subjects as she passed them, save for a strained smile she let out here and there.

She was sure even they had felt a change in her. 

When she was still a princess, she was beloved. Perhaps it made her arrogant to think so but the Asgardians did love her and she loved them in return. She would visit her people often, especially those of them who encountered problems she knew she could find a solution for. She was a constant in their world, or, at least, she use to be. 

Now all she did was shut herself in her gilded palace or stay at the Rainbow Bridge. 

She finally found her way to the Bridge and she continued her path.

As she walked, her mind fluttered from one future to another.

It wasn’t her future she was concerned with anyway. 

She plucked each individual thread, scanning through the length of Steve’s long future. 

Another surge of frustration swelled within her. 

Why couldn’t she see?

A sudden needle of panic pricked at her. Could Steve be dead and that’s why she couldn’t see his future?

No. That wasn’t it. 

She saw a glimpse of his old withered face, smiling. She couldn’t see who or what he was smiling at but it brought Y/N peace to know that Steve lives a fruitful life. 

So what could be blocking her sight?

“You’ll tire yourself out that way, your majesty.”

Y/N hadn’t realized that she’d arrived at the golden chamber that housed Heimdall’s usual domain. 

There he stood, his golden armor shining as brightly as his golden eyes, his hands holding the key to the Bifrost firmly. 

Y/N’s once lurid purple eyes settled back to her usual E/C. 

She regarded her old friend thoughtfully. “I guess it’s in moments such as this where I wish I had your abilities, Heimdall. The future is never set in stone but the present? How I wish I can see him.”

“He is well,” Heimdall said evenly. 

Y/N’s come to interpret those words to mean “Steve is physically alright.” but something in Heimdall’s tone had a lead ball forming in Y/N’s stomach. 

“Heimdall, are you telling me the truth?” Y/N said softly. 

He seemed to hesitate, his gold eyes trained on Y/N carefully. As if assessing whether her reaction would be volatile. 

A needle of irritation stabbed at her. Did Heimdall think her so weak?

“Heimdall,” Y/N said, her voice the voice of a regal queen. “What is it?”

“Prince Thor made me swear not to tell you. I apologize, my queen.”

“Fine,” Y/N bristled, her voice clipped. “Where is my brother?”

Heimdall hesitated again. 

“Where is my brother, Heimdall?” Y/N’s eyes blazed, her irritation growing.

“Your brother is in Midgard attending matters with your friends.” Heimdall finally said. 

Heimdall’s words were enough to harden the lead in her stomach, turning it into her solid resolution.

“Bring me down there.”

“Lady Y/N—“

“Heimdall,” Y/N said sharply, shedding the voice of a friend turning into the fiery queen. “I command you to bring me to Earth.“

Heimdall dipped his head in a bow. “Very well, my lady.”

Y/N stepped up onto the raised platform and watched as Heimdall turned the key, opening the Bifrost. 

She let the large column of light and colors blast cocoon around her, her body suddenly traveling faster than the speed of light, Heimdall soon disappearing from her line of sight. 

Before a second had even passed, she felt her body land on solid ground. 

She smelled Midgard before she saw it. 

It smelled of rain, petrichor permeating her senses. The grass was still damp in places where the Bifrost hadn’t scorched its patterns on the earth and tiny little dew drops refracted the light of the morning sun.

There was a notable chill in the air and judging from the yellow and orange leaves that were falling from the trees, it was the crest of autumn.

She knew the walk to the compound like the back of her hand and was half-surprised that she hadn’t triggered any safety protocols.

Her magic began to wrap around her body and a near blinding light surrounded her as her golden armor shifted into her Midgardian clothes. In place of her golden armor was a deep violet dress that reached a little below her knees, paired with golden sandals. She didn’t bother changing her twin swords and they stuck out behind her in a gold X formation.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was a strange atmosphere within the compound that she couldn’t quite place. 

She walked through the front door, past the hallway leading to the kitchen and dining area and went straight to the living room. 

Normally, the compound would be bustling in activity at this time, despite how early it was. Steve, Bucky and Sam would be back from their daily morning run, panting and sweaty but nonetheless joking around in the living room. Tony and Bruce, who would be working all night in the lab with Y/N, would emerge from their cave at around this time for a spot or breakfast. Vision would be preparing breakfast in the kitchen with the help of Wanda while Natasha watched on, occasionally adding her own input.

But instead, the compound was silent. 

The living room was empty, or at least, she thought it was. 

There was figure laying down on the couch, bundled up in a woolen blanket to avoid the frigid air. They had the blanket pulled over their head, giving Y/N a hard time to identify who it was. She approached the sleeping form and saw strands red hair peeking out from beneath the blanket. 

She hated to wake Natasha but something told her that this was more important than her friend’s rest. 

“Nat,” she shook the super spy awake. “Nat, wake up.”

This wasn’t the first time Y/N had awoken her friend. With Natasha Romanoff being one of the most covert super spies/assassins in the world, she wasn’t one to sleep soundly and unprepared and so Y/N half expected a knife to be pointed at her face or a half-concealed gun hitting her abdomen. 

Instead, Natasha simply groaned, which worried Y/N deeply. 

“Nat, it’s me,” Y/N said, shaking Natasha once again. 

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her eyelashes hitting her cheek as she struggled to open her eyes. It seemed to take her a good 30 seconds before she registered who was standing before her. 

“Y/N, oh my god.” Natasha leapt from the couch, her arms wrapping around Y/N’s neck. She moved so quickly, Y/N barely had time to adjust her position before they both fell to the floor. “I can’t believe you’re here! Thor told us he didn’t tell you anything and I was so worried I thought that maybe something had happened and that’s why you’re not here and—“

Natasha spoke quickly, her words stumbling over each other. 

“Stop, Natasha,” Y/N gripped Nat’s shoulders and Nat seemed to sag against her in defeat, “slower. What is happening?”

There was no hesitation in Natasha’s eyes as she spoke. “It’s Steve. He’s hurt.”

A sudden ringing exploded in Y/N’s ears, drowning out Natasha’s words saved a few. 

Touch and go. 

Worst part is over but I’m not so sure. 

We were on a mission in the Philippines. There’s an old army base there…

Natasha’s words were inconsequential to her. 

This is why she couldn’t see Steve. Why all she saw were glimpses. His present was in mortal danger and his future slipped through his fingers like sand. 

She looked at Natasha intently. There were bags under Natasha’s eyes as dark as the bruises that was peppered her body, an especially prominent one peeking out from the sleeve of her shirt. Her hair was in disarray, her skin paler than that of death. Y/N’s known Natasha a long time and something about Natasha’s unkempt appearance had a jolt of unease shaking her spine, making goosebumps rise on her arms. She realized that she has never seen Nat look so… defeated before.

“Where is he?” Her words were sharp, stone grating against stone. 

Natasha didn’t even flinch at her tone. “In the infirmary, recovering.”

She left Nat behind her, stumbling up towards the infirmary. 

She didn’t imagine that the compound would be so painful.

She saw herself here, happy and carefree. She saw herself with Steve in these halls, the way they danced around in the living room in the middle as he hummed them their song quietly; the cakes and cookies they snuck around behind the backs of the team; the treadmills they spent hours on, trying to one up the other; the meals they spent with each other in the conference rooms in an effort to spend some one-on-one time with each other.

And the hanger that kept the team’s vehicles where she last saw Steve.

Where she bid him good bye, making a promise she didn’t know she wouldn’t have been able to keep.

She pushed the memories away.

The past didn’t matter right now. The present did.

She managed to run the rest of the way to the infirmary, where she found the rest of the team gathered around Steve. 

“Y/N,” Thor said in surprise when the group turned around.

Y/N didn’t spare her brother a glance. Her eyes were trained on Steve and his sleeping form. He was shirtless, his creamy white skin looking even paler than Y/N remembered. He had stitches on his forehead, a giant bruise the size of her hand near his abdomen and a giant sewn up slash at the other side of his torso.

Steve Rogers looked like death.

“He looked a lot worse yesterday,” Tony mumbled, as if sensing where Y/N’s thoughts were going. “There are some perks to being a super soldier.”

“What happened?” Y/N’s voice was as thin as paper.

Bruce made a move to answer but before the words left his mouth, Y/N simply said, “Scratch that. I don’t think I want to know.”

Because if she knew who did this, if she knew what happened, there was nothing and no one that could stop her from finding the people who did this to the man she loved and burning them where they stood.

“His vitals are stable,” Bruce said in a placating tone. “He’s just resting for now. We gave him some morphine for the pain but his supersoldier body burns through the stuff.”

For the first time since she stepped in the room, she looked around. She easily ignored the white sterile walls of the infirmary, of the hi-tech machines that she helped Tony built as they combined magic and science. She even managed to ignore the steady beeping sound of the machine that was taking note of Steve’s heartbeat.

Instead, her eyes swept across her friends.

They looked as shitty as Natasha did.

Bags under their eyes, their skin sallow and ashy. Bruce had a faint, five o’clock shadow beginning to grow at his face and Tony was sporting a large bruise around his eyes that had begun to darken. Bucky was there too, his face gaunt, eyes bloodshot. Even Sam, who was usually jolly enough to be able to lighten any situation stayed stoically silent.

Her brother was the only one of them who looked well rested but with the permanent frown on his face, Y/N could see that Steve’s condition was beginning to take a toll on him too.

“Was it that bad?” Y/N asked, her voice low and quiet, a mother coaxing answers out of her children.

“You should have seen the other guy,” Sam said. Y/N could see his concentrated effort as he tried to make himself sound better than he actually felt but Sam’s words fell flat in dejection.

Y/N frowned at them. “When was the last time you all rested?”

Bucky only shrugged. “We take shifts. Wanda, Natasha and Vision spent the entire night with him. It’s our turn now.”

“Did you actually sleep last night?”

Judging by the resounding silence that came from the group, it was a huge no.

“Go rest.”

Tony’s head snapped to her. “What? Y/N, you—“

“This is not a negotiation, Stark,” Y/N said firmly, injecting some of her queenly voice into her command, “go rest. All of you. Thor and I will watch Steve. None of you are allowed to come back until you’ve seen to your own injuries and you’re able to get a full 8 hours of sleep. I’ll have Friday notify the team if there are any changes.”

Bruce made a move to argue but something about Y/N’s expression had the scientist stopping himself. Instead, with stiff backs and tired forms, they retreated from the infirmary.

“Good to see you again, Y/N. Thought it would be under better circumstances but at least you’ll be he here when he wakes up,” Tony said with a sigh before he left, leaving Y/N alone with her brother and a comatose Steve Rogers.

It was silent for a while, the beeping of the machines that kept Steve alive the only thing that filled that the quiet void. 

Y/N could feel her brother’s uneasy glances towards her despite the fact that her eyes were focused on the steady rising and falling of Steve’s pale chest. While she knew the real reason for the enmity that was radiating off of her was because the love of her life was knocking on death’s door, she couldn’t stop the anger that was directed at her brother as it filled her heart. In fact, she relished it. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, brother, spit it out,” her words were short, curt. There was no mistaking the anger there. 

“Heimdall told you.”

There was no question in his voice. He knew the words ringed true even if Y/N didn’t confirm it. 

“You told him not to tell me. Are you my keeper now, Thor?”

Y/N could practically feel Thor flinch at the cold ice in her words. 

“I did not want to worry you, sister.”

“What did you think would happen, Thor?” The Queen of Asgard turned to her brother, her eyes blazing. Her body was tense, anger and rage replacing the blood that coursed through her veins. The temperature in the room began to spike and Y/N watched as sweat began to collect on her brother’s brow. “That because I accepted the position as Asgard’s queen, I would cease using my abilities on Steve?”

Thor scowled at her, refusing to cower under her intense glare. “You were a ghost, Y/N. I thought it best you didn’t know, lest I wanted you to get worse.”

“Would you have told me if he’d died?” Y/N challenged, her voice beginning to rise as she spat out her words, “Or would I continue to fruitlessly search for his future, a future he would never have?”

“No—“

“I have sacrificed too much for Asgard. For you. For Loki and mother. You are my older brother and yet I bear the responsibility of the throne when it should have been you!” Tears had begun to sprung in her eyes, hot and wet, the trail it left behind scorching the skin of her face. She couldn’t stop herself, not anymore. Not after everything she’d had to sacrifice for everyone else’s happiness. “The one person in this entire universe that brings me joy was dying and you kept that information from me, Thor. Even to that, you felt entitled to. I could have been there, I could have helped him! I should’ve—“ a sob broke through her chest, choking the words she yearned the scream at her brother. 

Her brother who got everything he wanted. Her brother who she sacrificed so much for to be happy.

Thor’s scowling face softened, which irked Y/N even more. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Y/N said as she furiously wiped at her eyes, “I do not want your sympathies.”

But rather than fighting back, Thor reached for her, encircling her in his strong arms. 

She tried to push away from his warm embrace, beating against the Asgardian leather of his armor but Thor didn’t even seem fazed at all. 

She was stronger than this, she knew that. She was a warrior after all, one of the few who faced Thanos and live to tell about it. She herself has fought Thor at the height of each other’s power and she prevailed time and time again.

But she had no fight in her left. 

Nothing left to give to stop the torrential rain of heartbreak and sadness that threatened to drown her, was drowning her.

“It’s not fair,” Y/N sobbed as Thor held on to her tightly, her fists beating against his chest. “It’s not fair.”

Thor held her tight and Y/N could feel her body betraying her, giving into the his hug. Her big brother’s comfort was unlike anything in this world and his hug had her knees buckling, her body only being held up by her brother’s embrace. 

She could smell him, the scent of musk and cedar wood. She could feel his long blonde hair tickling her cheek as her tears soaked its tip. Y/N felt Thor’s arms tighten around her and it took her a while to realize that the sound of her sobs were drowning her brother’s words. 

“It’s not fair.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry, sister.”

“I just wanted to be happy.”

“And I will make it so.”

At that, Y/N pulled away. The tears that shrouded her eyes blurred her brother’s face but there was no mistaking the steely determination that wove itself in the wrinkles of his brow. 

“What?” Her voice was small, quiet even, as she wiped at her eyes, seeing her brother clearly. 

“I cannot keep seeing you like this,” Thor said as he rested his hands on Y/N’s shoulder, a grounding guide that cemented her feet to reality. “Seeing you mope around Asgard, cold and unfeeling except whenever you wish to cry, has made me realize something. You’re right, Y/N. It is not fair of me to rob you of your happiness. As your big brother, I have always wanted what’s best for you but fear for the future of Asgard has clouded my judgment. I let you take my responsibility, carrying with it all of its burdens and for that, I am truly sorry. You do not know of the future of my reign and though that scares me, knowing the present of yours, your misery and anger and resentment, saddens me. Sister, if you would let me, I will retake the throne and all the burdens that come with it.”

Y/N sniffled, surprised at all she was hearing. Thor taking the throne from her? 

She waited for a sense of foreboding to come, a sense of jealousy and betrayal and yet she felt was relief. And guilt. Guilt that began to prick at her shriveled up heart. Could she truly ask her brother to give up his own joy for hers? Y/N was many things but selfish was never one of them. “But what of your missions fighting for peace in the Nine Realms? I cannot take that from you.” 

“There are no more fights, sister,” Thor said, not unkindly.

“There are always fights,” Y/N replied. 

“Not today. Not tomorrow. Your reign, however short, has strengthened Asgard. None of our enemies dare to make a move against us. I am free of my obligations as Asgard’s prince. Now I must take up the mantle and become its king.”

“But what if they attack again? If our enemies aren’t reminded of our strength, you and I both know they will attack.”

“Then we fight,” Thor gave Y/N a grim look. “Father may have been king but he was a warrior, stronger than even you or me. Should I become king, I will not abandon my people in a fight and I know you won’t too.”

“But Thor—“

“Y/N, I have decided,” Thor said, his blue eyes staring intently in her own E/C ones. “I love you. You are my sister and I have failed you by forcing you to take my responsibility. You deserve to be happy, more than any one of us. You have sacrificed much and have received too little in return.”

“But you won’t be happy,” Y/N insisted, “I would rather live with my resentment than my guilt, Thor. And guilt is all I will feel should you do this for me.”

Thor smiled softly. His eyes, clear as a sky on a beautiful summer day, was trained on her intently. “Sister, I wish for you to listen to me closely. Loki and I have discussed this and though I wish to take on the burden of the crown alone, I know you will not let me. So in this, Loki has found a solution. We rule, all three of us, together. There will not be one king or queen but two kings and a queen. Us. The three of us ruling Asgard as a unit.”

Y/N blinked back at her brother in confusion. A unit? “What? I have never heard of such a thing.”

“It is a good plan, no?” Thor said, his face cracking into a smile.

“It is unhinged,” Y/N said cautiously. “We would squabble relentlessly, as we always do. We will never agree on anything.”

“Which is why Loki and I have thought of a solution to that,” Thor’s grin was widening and Y/N had to quell her own joy. His smile was infectious and Y/N almost wanted to smile back at him. She had always been the more cautious of the three siblings. She was the smart one, the one who stopped her fighting brothers, who stopped Loki from stabbing Thor and ceased the bickering between the two. Y/N was the one who reasoned with Thor whenever he got too rough and was the one who listened to Loki rant about the unfairness of his life.

But this, this solution that her crazy brother have concocted could be the answer to all their problems.

Thor continued his explanation. “I will handle Asgard’s military exploits, as that is my strength. Loki will handle life at court as he fits.”

“And I?” 

“You will do both. When you think either of us are doing things we shouldn’t, then your word will be the final word and we will stop.”

Y/N grinned. “I am to be your leash?”

“Yes,” Thor said with a firm nod, matching Y/N’s grin. “You will be our leash. That way, you do not always have to be in Asgard, only when one of us calls upon you to deal with the other. You get to spend time here on Earth as you see fit and Loki and I will accomplish our own duties to Asgard.”

“Father must be rolling in his grave,” Y/N muttered. “This is the craziest idea we have ever had. With the throne divided into three, our enemies will think us weak.”

“Then we show them nothing but strength.”

“And what of mother? What are her thoughts on the matter?”

“Loki has spoken with her and she wishes to see her children happy. This is the only way all three of us are happy.”

Y/N mulled the idea over. There was only really one way to know whether or not the idea will work. 

Y/N’s face glazed over, her once E/C eyes turning into a brilliant violet. Y/N could see flashes of her future repairing itself back. Steve, smiling and happy, Y/N happy along with him. She could see heartbreak in the future, as that was inevitable with an immortal who loves a mortal, but she pushed that aside. She did not care about that for now.

Instead her eyes saw the golden throne room of Asgard. Her sitting in the middle, her brothers’ towering figures sitting next to her. Three glittering crowns rested on each of their heads, their faces regal yet kind. They looked like a unit and they looked… happy.

Yes. 

That’s what that was.

Happiness was radiating off of the three of them like beams of sunlight that drowned out the darkness. 

Gone was the coldness that Y/N had previously seen when she sat on the golden throne alone. Instead, her brothers and her was radiating joy, contentment, even love. 

“What is it? What do you see?” Thor asked earnestly.

“A future,” Y/N said in a daze. Her eyes focused, losing its violet tint. “Our future. And Thor it is wonderful.” 

Excitement lit Thor’s eyes up. “So this will work?”

“I’m not saying there won’t be hardships but yes. It will work.”

For the first time in months, Y/N felt something blossom in her chest. She felt the warm blanket of hope settle in her chest, filling the once gaping hole in her heart. 

This time, the tears and streamed down her face was not of anguish but pure unbridled joy. 

She leapt into her brother’s arms, squeezing him tightly as she breathed in his scent of cedar wood. She could feel the frantic beating of her heart, the ice that once surrounded it now thawed. 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” She muttered the words repeatedly, a reverent prayer that was swallowed up by the sound of her own blubbering sobs.

“For you, sister. Anything,” Thor said, hugging her equally as hard.

Y/N pulled away, wiping at her teary eyes. “We must draft the decree as soon as possible. We cannot keep our people in the dark about this. And the team. We need to tell them too. I want to live on Earth as much as I can and—“ her voice cracked, her eyes darting towards Steve, “—I don’t know if Steve will ever forgive me for leaving.”

“He will forgive you because he loves you, this I know to be true. Everyday I was on Earth and you were not were days Steve asked about your wellbeing. His love for you burns strong and if this separation has proven anything, it is that you two are meant for one another,” Thor said, his voice laced with determination as he pushed her back down towards the chair she once occupied beside Steve. “You will stay here. I will alert the team and then I will return home to help Loki in drafting the decree. We will declare the decree as soon as you can return to Asgard. Alert me if there are any problems.”

Y/N simply nodded, the elation that filled her chest now shriveling at the sight of Steve’s lifeless body. 

Y/N barely registered when Thor exited the room and her exceptional hearing certainly didn’t register when he spoke to the team regarding her tenure at the compound. All of Y/N’s concentration was focused on the man sleeping by her side.

The steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest was the only thing Y/N focused on.

Humans were fragile beings. Even if Steve had the supersoldier serum flowing through his veins, even if was worthy of Mjolnir, even if he was stronger than most human beings, it didn’t erase the fact that he was still human.

Three weeks without food would kill him. Three days without water would kill him. Three minutes without oxygen would kill him. Time would kill him.

It was difficult to imagine that this man, this wonderful man who stood up against Thanos, who wielded Mjolnir, who fought against hundreds of alien creatures far more powerful than he was, could be defeated so easily. Seeing him this way, so pale and fragile had a snake of misery curling around Y/N’s heart.

She knew that death was inevitable for Steve. He would die and she wouldn’t. She would carry on living for thousands of years while Steve’s body withered into dust and bones. Even though Y/N was one of the foremost minds in the universe with both magic and science at her fingertips, not even she could stop death. Theirs is a love doomed from the start.

A sudden feeling of hopelessness slammed into her.

What was 60 years to the life of an immortal? For her to sacrifice so much—the throne, her brother’s happiness—for 60 years with Steve? She knew it was worth it but doubt had begun to creep in. 

She looked at his face. He was serene, his eyes closed, his breathing deep. He looked as he always did whenever Y/N watched him fall asleep. Peaceful and relaxed. Well, with the exception of his stitched up forehead.

She brushed her warm fingers over is cold hand, feeling the rough callouses on his palm, the hard planes of his fingernails, the deep crevices that marred the surface. 

She intertwined their fingers, her small hand feeling secure against Steve’s giant hand. At his touch, all the doubt that had crept in, all the hesitation and trepidation, the fear that had ice coating her heart, melted away.

Time with Steve, no matter how short, will be worth it. A human lifetime of joy and happiness would cause her an insurmountable amount of grief in her long immortal life for when Steve passes but it will be worth it. After all, what is grief if not a reminder of the love that had once permeated a person’s life?

She felt Steve’s fingers begin to curl around her hand. Her eyes snapped towards his face to find his wonderful smile, his beautiful blue eyes crinkled at the sides. His once pale skin flushed as color rushed to his cheeks, washing away the death that chased him.

“You look like you’re thinking of something deep.” His voice was just as Y/N remembered it to be. A deep tenor that knew the right notes to play in order to dance with her emotions.

She tightened her hold on Steve’s hand. “Queens are prone to fits of deep contemplation. It’s an inevitable side effect that comes with the job.”

“Side effect, huh,” Steve said as he pulled his body up in a sitting position. He didn’t even so much as grunt in pain. “I think I prefer being able to drink without getting drunk.”

Y/N was never one for idle talk and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Steve, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I left and broke my promise. I’m sorry that I was too much of a coward not to wait for you to come back. I could apologize to you for a thousand years and still not earn your forgiveness. I—“

“Y/N, stop,” Steve tugged her hand, placing a soft kiss on her palm. “I understand why you left. You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do,” Y/N insisted. “How can you forgive me that easily? I betrayed your trust!”

He smirked at her. “As far as betrayals go, running off to rule your kingdom after your father’s death is one of the nobler ones.”

“Steve—“

“I forgave you a long time ago. I understand why you left, you don’t have to apologize for that.” He tugged their intertwined hands forcefully enough that Y/N stood up from her chair. “Now, come here. I miss my girlfriend and I’d like to give her a hug before she has to leave again.”

Y/N climbed into the bed with Steve. She wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea for her to encroach on her boyfriend’s space after he’d been severely injured but Steve didn’t seem to mind. She also knew Steve long enough to know that nothing would stand in his way if he wanted something and right now, what he wanted was to hold her. She felt Steve’s massive arms wrap around her body as she settled into the warm blankets. 

Steve’s scent seemed to envelope around her like a cocoon. She could hear the steady beating of his heart against is chest, could feel the rising and falling of his chest in time with his breathing. They lay side by side, her hand pressed against Steve’s chest, his fingers tracing a pattern around her back that had her shivering.

“You know, when you left, I almost lost my mind,” Steve’s voice seemed to rumble from his chest. “I was hurt. You left so suddenly and I had plans for us. You know, we even managed to get home early and I was so excited for the dinner I’d planned because I knew how happy I was going to make you. But then you were gone and the only thing I had left of you was a video of your goodbye. I was angry at you.”

“That’s a valid emotional human response,” Y/N said, pushing away her feeling of guilt. Steve clearly needed to get whatever he wanted to say off his chest and Y/N will endure whatever negative emotion she has to feel if it meant Steve would feel better.

Steve continued tracing patterns around her back and mind followed the trail of his fingers. Was he tracing dots and dashes on her skin? “But then I realized that it was selfish of me to be angry with you. For me to be angry at you because you ran off to do the noble thing of leading your people would make me a pretty terrible person. All I want to do now is to cherish whatever time we can spend with each other no matter how short.”

At that, Y/N couldn’t stop her grin. “About that…”

Steve paused, his finger hovering in the air. “You’re not leaving so soon right?”

“Quite the opposite, really.”

“You’re staying?” Steve’s grin was infectious and a smile began to pull at Y/N’s own lips. Steve’s finger continued to trace the little pattern he was making.

“Yes.”

“What about Asgard?”

“My brothers and I have made a plan. I’ll tell you later. Right now I just want to enjoy this moment.” She snuggled closer to Steve, letting the joy and happiness she felt run wild. It felt like centuries since she last felt this happy and the temperature in the room reflected her emotions. It felt like a beautiful summer day as the smell of orange blossoms filtered through the white sterile room of the infirmary.

Y/N had begun to decipher the pattern Steve had been tracing. Dots followed by a series of dashes. Was that morse code?

“Are you tracing morse code on my skin?” She peered at Steve through her lashes, an eyebrow raised in question.

Steve’s grin widened. “Yes.”

“What are you writing?”

“I love you.”

Her own grin widened. “I love you too.”

[usmsgutterson]

heyy im so glad you're back, I love literally everything you write<3

could i please have some domestic fluff with kaz brekker? just random everyday shit with him? like waking up in the same bed, eating breakfast, like everyday life with him?

it's no problem if you can't do it<3 thank you so much

The Small Moments- Kaz Brekker

Hey!! I'm glad to be back and I'm thrilled to be writing for Kaz again, so yeah!

I hope that you enjoy this fic--I sort of did like, a compilation of the little things? Waking up in bed with him, eating breakfast and all the fluffy domestic parts of life that are incredibly underrated!

I did age Kaz and the reader up to around 19-20 for this one because it just made sense in my brain to allow Kaz some time to recover from the touch aversion he has but yeah! It’ll make more sense when you read the fic!

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- this wasn’t proof/betaread so the writings probably not my best work, and it might feel a bit ooc for Kaz. I do plan to edit it tonight when I have more time, so if you come back to reread this at any point, if it’s different then it’s different because it’s edited. 

Waking up beside Kaz Brekker...

Winter in Ketterdam was cold.

Not so cold as the constant icy state of Fjerda, or the frosty winters of Ravka, but cold enough.

You grimace as an icy breeze wakes you from what’d been a decent few hours of rest and the first ones you’d gotten in days, turning from your side onto your back and allowing your head to turn to the left. 

Your boyfriend sleeps on his side, face turned to you even though you’d fallen asleep not looking at one another. You grin at the sight of him; the greed, money driven mobster always looks a hell of a lot more peaceful when he’s resting. 

You don’t do anything, simply objecting to stare at him and resisting every urge you have to run your fingers through the hair he’d cut before the two of you retired to sleep the previous night. 

“You’re staring at me,” the words come just a few moments later. “It’s creepy.”

“One could argue that I was merely admiring you, Mr. Brekker,” You swear that you catch the faintest of smiles appearing on his face for just a split second. 

“Well, one could also argue that admiring is staring, just worded differently,” You huff a laugh, giving up as Kaz opens his eyes. 

“Good morning,” he greets. You bring your hand to his face, waiting for him to nod and allow your bare hand to touch his skin. 

He nods, and when you begin tracing the lines of his face, he grins slightly. 

He knows eventually that you’ll be able to do more than hold hands every once in a while, spend mornings wrapped up in each others arms rather than a foot or so away from one another, but for now, he accepts things as they are. He grins at the fact that you’re capable of touching him at all, knows that it’s some mark of progress in the long line to recovering from the aversion that’d lasted a decade thus far, but he knows that progress is progress. It’s something, even if it’s small, and progress is good.

“What’re you smiling about, Brekker?” Kaz blinks, only realizing that he’s grinning once you’ve pointed it out, but he allows the smile to remain on his face. Figures that you seeing a smile is the least harm he can do when it comes to you anyway, but tries not to think about you getting caught in any kind of crossfire. 

“You,” he admits honestly. “Just how lucky I am to have someone so patient.”

“I’ll always be patient when it comes to your aversion,” he can tell that the words are genuine, and it’s enough to make his mood lighten slightly. “I understand what you’re going through to an extent, Brekker, so I’ll always be patient. It doesn’t matter if you take eight steps forward or thirty steps back. You’ve always got me on your side, I guarantee.” 

“I care about you, Y/N,” Kaz says, and you grin, finger tracing along his cheekbone. It’s as close to ‘I love you’ as Kaz will get for a while, but you know to be glad for it, and you are. 

“I care about you too, Kaz,” you close your eyes as Kaz’s bare hand gently grabs your wrist, silently telling you to stop. 

You open your eyes again and glance at him, inquisitive look on your face. He lets his hand move up to yours, moving it to the space between the two of you and interlocking your fingers over the bed. 

It’s not much, but it’s enough, and that’s all that matters to either of you.

Making breakfast with Kaz Brekker...

Your true residence was in a house near the Ketterdam countryside. You inherited it after the passing of one of your relatives and you’d make trips to dust it every weekend, often spending the night there to prove that you still resided there to some degree. 

You’d go from Friday night to Sunday morning, and Kaz often came along, leaving the Barrel in the caring hands of Inej and Jesper for two nights while he was away. 

It was often some of the only time you two could garner alone together that lasted more than a hour or two, that wasn’t when you and Kaz were waking up or going to sleep. You both cherished every moment of the weekends, Kaz allowing himself to smile and you trying to fight the urge to compliment his grin every time that he did. 

Mornings were easily one of your favorite parts of the weekend, though. Kaz would still be wearing the sweatpants and tunic he’d fallen asleep in the night before, you wearing a pair of sweatpants and the black button down Kaz had worn while you two were still in the city, and you’d make breakfast together.

You had something of a knack for baking because Nina had shown you so many recipes and you’d made the recipes she’d shown you so many times that it was almost like clockwork. 

Kaz would make the waffles, you’d make the cinnamon buns and the coffee. Kaz would make tea the way that you drank it and you’d discuss a home on the countryside--just like the one you would spend the weekends in but further out, bigger maybe so that Jes and the rest of the crows could pop in whenever--and while things in the Barrel would always make an appearance, they never stuck around for long. 

“I have half a mind to hope he’s not let the place burn to the ground,” Kaz grumbles as he shoves his fork into a waffle. “Each Sunday afternoon, we arrive again to chaos.”

“Inej is taking a break from hunting the slavers,” it was a four day break, so it really wasn’t much of a break at all. “She’s got it under control if Jesper doesn’t, and even then, Matthias and Nina are down at the Crow Club on the regular. They’ll have noticed if something went awry and helped Jesper fix his fuck up.” 

“I hate how easy it is for you to speak away my worry,” Kaz is saying it with what you know to likely be the last of his smiles through the day, and you grin just a bit. “You explain it away and everything feels calm. I love and hate you for that.”

“I do what I can,” you answered. 

“And I love you for it,” you don’t say anything back, merely reaching across the small circular table you’re at and grasping his hand for a moment.

Weekends for the two of you are always so perfect. It almost pains Kaz to have to go back to chaos when they’re over, but he knows that where each weekend ends, another is on it’s way, and he cherishes such knowledge.

He cherishes getting to be yours, getting to say that you’re the love of his life, and that’s enough for him. 

The Quiet Moments with Kaz Brekker...

It’d been another wintery day in Kaz’s office. It was well after midnight and while Kaz was still trying to figure out how to get from Point A to Point B without being caught and killed, you’d taken a moment to rest your eyes, to let the quiet fall over the room as you and Kaz had spent a large part of your day in the nosiest parts of Ketterdam. 

You settled on the windowsill adjacent to Kaz’s desk, closing your eyes as you let your temple press against the cold window. 

Moonlight shone through the window, barely blocked by the clouds as snow fell freshly onto the streets outside and beneath you both, and when Kaz looked up from his documents, he caught sight of you and was almost awestruck.

“Who’s staring now, Brekker?” Kaz rolls his eyes at that, but keeps his gaze on you nonetheless.

“I guess it’s me,” Kaz answers. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Just trying to get used to the wacky sleep schedule after this weekend,” eight hours spent next to one another, going to bed at a reasonable time and sleeping a decent amount. Kaz was suffering a bit as well, hence why he found himself drinking more coffee than usual. He needed to stay awake to get the planning done, to figure it all out so that the heist could go smoothly. 

“You’ll grow used to it again by Thursday,” Kaz said, and he was right because you always did. “Then we’ll go to the countryside Friday night and you’ll go through it all over again next week.”

“It’s worth it, though,” Kaz grabbed the mug of coffee that’d gone cold in the time it took him to drink it and stood, passing it to you before checking the time as he grabbed his cane. 

It’d been after six bells in the morning. Fuck, you two really had stayed up late. 

Kaz shows you the time and you grimace, passing him the mug as you got off the windowsill, grateful to finally be able to rest after what’d been close to twelve hours of planning.

You walked back to your shared bedroom, Kaz going over some last minute business plans whilst you showered and changed. Kaz objected to put on some sleepwear whilst you merely pulled a pair of sweatpants over your legs and the shirt Kaz had worn that day, folded on the bathroom counter ready for you to don it. 

When you joined Kaz in bed, your understanding was wordless once again. Kaz simply rested a hand in the space between the two of you on the bed and you placed your hand over his, the two of you falling asleep rather soon after.

While it wasn’t entirely perfect, your life with Kaz was as close to perfect as you’d have liked it to be, and that was enough. 

[iwadori]

When they neglect you for another girl Part 4 (Sakusa)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

AN: YES I DID PUT MYSELF IN THIS STORY! SUE ME. This is basically inspired by a random conversation i had w the great @teesumu, so this is basically for you doll <3

Sakusa:

You and Sakusa have been together for a around 10 years and love eachother immensly.    

However recently Sakusa has been busy and you havent really had much time together lately as he claims been busy doing loads of visits with his new agent.

But of course, being the loving partner you are you wanted to revive the spark in your relationship.

You have been seeing a lot of people on social media posting their aesthetic ‘picnic dates,’ and you knew that this was something that appealed to you before it was ‘on trend.’ Kiyoomi immediately came to your mind once you had the idea of going on a date. You knew that you haven’t be around each other lately, as Kiyoomi always had either a ‘meeting’ or some sort of ‘interview’ that his new agent “Empress” has set up for him.

You didn’t really know Empress that well, just that she was ‘good at her job,’ a ‘hard and dilligent worker,’ and a ‘raging hottie’ with Atsumu’s opinion being the last one. You weren’t suspecting her to have any malicious intent towards you or Kiyoomi, since you knew that he had a great judge of character. But it was just odd, that every time Kiyoomi was running late or having ‘super-secret’ conversations on the phone it was always because ‘my agent set up this,’ ‘my agent set up that,’ and that’s what left you a bit wary.

As you were scrolling through your phone you see a calendar updating saying : Next Week‘ A DECADE AGO WE FELL IN LOVE.’  

10 years. How could you forget? You and Omi have literally been together for a decade. You think back to the decade of madness and love you’ve been through together, smiling fondly to yourself but then you think about where you are now... barely even talking to each other, only mainly seeing him when he comes home from work.

You need to fix this. Or at least make an attempt to get you and Kiyoomi talking again. So, the only thing you can do, is plan that picnic.

You spent the rest of the day planning your anniversary picnic. ’It’s going to be great,’ you think to yourself, you have a list of all Omi’s favorite foods you're going to make him and bring and you are probably going to pick up a few board games and maybe even get some paint supplies. You and Kiyoomi used to paint a lot together, with the two of you not being the best of painters, but you enjoyed eachothers company non the less.  

Everything was sorted...for the most part. All you needed to do was get Omi there, and it’ll all be okay. Right? As you were bubbling and looking for more picnic inspo, you hear your front door open which made you even more excited to tell your boyfriend your plans.  

As you rush to go greet him, you see he’s on the phone making you roll your eyes. “No Empress it won’t work, we need this sorted by next week. Okay? Next week.” he says in an agitated way. He hangs up the phone and sighs, shoving off his duffel bag.

“Hey Omi, how was your day?” you say a bit hesitant, noticing his annoyed mood.  

“Fine” He said dismissively, aiming to walk past you aiming for your bedroom.

“Oh well I have something amazing planned for ne-” you try to say following after him.

“Can we not do this right now Y/N,” he says again turning too look at you making you frown a bit, all you wanted to do is surprise him with your plans and have a day out with him. After noticing your sad look he finishes with “it’s just that Empress she’s bee-”

“I don’t want to hear about her.” you say bitterly folding your arms, Empress is the last person you want to hear about right now “God Omi can’t you just care about me? For once.”

“I do I-”

“You don’t anymore,” you say, with all the emotions and feelings you’ve been just supressing from a while coming up. You don’t even know how you got from point A to B with this conversation, but there's no stopping now. “I feel that, for a while now we haven’t been how we were before when we were just Y/N and Kiyoomi. Instead of how we are now. Just Y/N. Then Kiyoomi and Empress.”

After hearing his agents name, Kiyoomi’s name contorts to confusion “Empress? What does she have to do with anything?”

“How can you not see? For the past month all it’s been is ‘Empress this’ ‘Empress that,’” you complain “Having your super secret conversations with her, like god Kiyoomi can’t you see a problem with this?”  

“It’s not like that Y/N, we’re just work partners” he says looking a bit annoyed “Just business.”

 “Just business? So Kiyoomi, what were you talking about on the phone earlier” you say with your voice slight accusingly.

“Umm I, I can’t really say?” he says more of a question then a fully assured statement. You squint your eyes at him and scoff.

“What is going on with you Omi?” you say “are you cheating on me with her is that it?”

“No, no of course not Y/N! How could you even ask that?” he frowned at your question making your chest hurt, since deep down you knew he could never do that to you. Could he?

“Well tell me then, what were you talking about?” you ask again.

“I can’t say..” he finishes  

“Well I can’t stay.” you say and his face goes back to confusion “Here. With you.”

“What do you mean Y/-”

“I need a break or something. I just can’t be here right now.” You start to rush and pack a big of things whilst Kiyoomi just stands there.

After you pack up your stuff, you look back and see Kiyoomi just there. Standing. You were upset, you kind of wanted him to rush after you and beg you not to leave, but he was just there. Standing. So you put the hand on the door and just before you leave you turn back and say “bye Sakusa, see you later?” to which you see him slightly nod at.

When the door shut, Kiyoomi starts to cry. After hearing you call him by his last name really twisted the knife that was already in his heart. You haven’t called him that since you were like 15. He knew what you wanted; he knew you wanted him to rush towards you and beg you not to leave, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. But what he could do is call the one person he only could call.

After a few rings, he hears “What do you need Saku?”  

“She’s gone, she left.”

“What do you mean she’s gone, did you tell her?”  

“No I didn’t tell her. And that’s the problem, Empress she think-”

“Saku, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?”

“Don’t I always?”

He couldn’t argue with that, he just had to trust that Empress could sort it. “And also, don’t spend the week with your head up your ass crying, you’ve got a lot of grovelling to do kiddo.”

He nodded even though she couldn’t see him, as he knew that what just went down needed to be resolved, fast.

Meanwhile, on your end. You’re a mess. Sobbing all the time, tissues are your best friend, you’ve been waiting just waiting for a message or a call, or some form of communication. You just wanted to feel wanted by your boyfriend (can you even call him that now.)  

You spent the rest of the week at your parents, immersing yourself in your work and doing ‘self care’ things, trying to forget all about the argument you and Kiyoomi had.  

One day, you receive a letter, it wasn’t delivered by a mail man though. It was slid under your door, in a golden envelope sealed with a red hot wax seal. It read:

‘Dear Y/N,

My sweetheart, im sorry for how the week has been and I know a letter with only a fraction of how I feel won’t make up for how I acted that day. But im inviting you to join me at the Gardenia Botanical Gardens at 2 pm tommorow, to celebrate our 10 year anniversary.  

I know there is a big chance, you may not want to see me and I understand but please. I love you, so so much, that words can’t even describe. But I need you to see me apologise and I need to make it up to you.  

I hope to see you there, I’d wait the whole day for you. If you don’t show, I understand.

Sincerely, Sakusa Kiyoomi

P.S The theme is ‘summer hot day, tea with the queen’ - Atsumu’

You smile at the letter, but wonder if you should actually go or not. You did want to see him of course and get this all resolved, but you had your own plans for your anniversary which wouldn’t of been spoiled if he didn’t withhold his super-secret phone calls.

It took you hours to contemplate on what to do, but you decided to just sleep on it and see how you feel tomorrow. In the morning, you knew what you wanted to do. Of course, you had to go, at least to hear him out and see if he really did cheat on you or not. For all you know he’s inviting you to tell you that he’s going to run away with his agent and his secret kids they had together. You shook the negative thoughts from your head and just repeated your mantra ‘hope for the best and prepare for the worst.’

When you got there, you didn’t exactly know where he would be but he said ‘botanical gardens’ so of course you decided to just wander around there. It was nice walking around and just smelling the roses, and seeing the pretty scenery.  

“Excuse me ma’am,” you hear someone say tugging on your leg “um that mister over there told me to give you these.” Looking down, you see a small boy who looked about the age of four with a crumpled up bunch of roses handing them to you.

“Oh thank you,” you say giving the kid a head pat “where is this ‘mister’ might I ask?”

“He’s over there!” The kid pointed behind him and you look to see Kiyoomi sitting under a white gazebo which is surrounded in your favorite flowers and the table is filled with food.

You walk over to your ‘boyfriend,’ with him not noticing your present yet. When you reach him you say “I think she stood you up buddy,” you joke making him jump abit startled.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, instantly beaming “You came you made it!” he stood up and pulled you into a hug, which you return before you remember why you came here in the first place.

“Oh I-” he says awkwardly

You decide to sit down pulling him down with you. You kind of sit there in uncomfortable silence, for a while until you both say.

“So I-”

“What are yo-”

You both laughed at your simultaneous comments, before Kiyoomi looks at you letting you speak. “What did you want to bring me here for?”

“I didn’t want, what happened last week to happen Y/N I-” he says looking a bit panicked “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

“Then how was it meant to go Sakusa.”

“Y/N, please don’t call me that, I know I made you upset but pleas-” he starts before getting distracted again “Y/N, I called you here to say a few things..”

“Them being.?” you ask a bit impatiently.

“I love you. I love you so much, you don’t even understand. Ever since I saw you at my volleyball game in our first year, in the stands just cheering us on. I knew that from that day, after I scored the winning point and our eyes met, that we were destined to be together. I just love you so much Y/N”

“Omi I don’t understand I-”

“Just let me finish please, It’s taken a while for me to say this. And trust me, there’s been so many times when I wanted to just say ‘hey Y/N let’s get married,’ but I couldn’t I was scared, and I wanted it to be perfect, so perfect. Because you deserve the world Y/N. That’s why I got Empress to help, I know that our conversations may seem odd, but I love you and she knows that she just wanted to help trust me. And she did, all this wouldn’t of been done if it wasn’t for her. But anyways Y/N what I waned to say was I love you and I love you and I-” he rambles on loosing track of his words.  

But in the midst of his speech, you hear all that you needed and responded with the only way you can.

“Yes.” you say simply, with a growing smile on your face.

“Yes?” he repeats confused “What do you meann ye- ohhh" Kiyoomi blushes embarrased that after all that he ended up ruining the thought out proposal he wanted to give you with his ramble.

“Im sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to say it like that I wanted it to be perfect and I-”

You shut him up with a kiss making his eyes widen as he reciprocates it anyways.  

“What did she say?” you hear someone shout from a far, and you look over to see the MSBY Jackals all standing there with shit eating grins on their faces.

“I said yes!” you yell back, to which they all cheer and rush towards you guys giving you both hugs and slapping Kiyoomi on the back.  

As the boys celebrate Omi finnally do what he’s been planning for ages, you get approached by Empress who awkwardly walks up to you. “ I didn’t want to leave the impression that me and Saku were any sort of thing?” she says

“Yeah I think it was definitely a big misunderstanding, it’s just that Omi was never around and whenever he was he was just talking to you and you know how it is.”

“I definitely know, I’d feel the same way if my boyfriend did that to me.”

“Oooh boyfriend?” you ask her feeling nosey on her romantic life.  

“Yeah boyfriend. You know iwaizumi hajime... the trainer?” she says smiling a bit when she said his name.

“The trainer! Nice.”

The rest of the night was fun and was basically an engagement party for you and Omi all you and friends just partying and celebrating yours and Omi’s love for each other. “Omi” you say getting his attention “Happy ten year anniversary babe”

“Happy anniversary, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

After the party you spend your months now planning for a big fat wedding, with the help of your new found bestie, Empress (who you obviously misjudged from the start.) You and Omi could never be happier, every thing was back to how it was before, maybe even better. And you definitely spent at least two Saturdays a month going out for picnics and it was now a tradition in your relationship, so in the end you did get your ‘aesthetic picnic date.’

AN: WHAT DID U GUYS THINK??

[hansolmates]

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits​

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing. 

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing. 

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did. 

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.” 

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more? 

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently. 

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?” 

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.” 

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied. 

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck? 

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice. 

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore. 

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend. 

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.” 

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week. 

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts. 

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid. 

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted. 

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck. 

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point. 

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost. 

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.) 

“Fuck, Hobi!” 

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool. 

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood. 

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.” 

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough? 

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought… 

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse. 

He hates this. 

You hate this. 

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later. 

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all. 

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him. 

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he. 

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you. 

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back. 

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed. 

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting. 

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me  ☠️  what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white? 

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response. 

[12:09] Jungkook: ??? 

You frown, wondering what you said wrong. 

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out 

[12:10] You: why? 

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny. 

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes. 

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you. 

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?” 

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.” 

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.” 

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you. 

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back. 

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!” 

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest. 

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic. 

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door. 

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.” 

“Well then, can you relay a message?” 

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?” 

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.” 

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.” 

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.” 

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers. 

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.” 

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident. 

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep. 

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty. 

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family. 

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule 

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll… 

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television. 

You don’t reply until very late into the night. 

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten. 

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry. 

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short. 

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face 

[10:16] Jungkook: 

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed. 

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf 

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy. 

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat. 

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too. 

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :( 

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off. 

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin. 

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable. 

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically. 

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough. 

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt. 

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm. 

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.  

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!” 

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start. 

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s. 

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen. 

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok. 

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder. 

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes. 

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you. 

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms. 

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday.” 

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton. 

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—” 

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait. 

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?”  he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile  slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day. 

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously. 

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees. 

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good. 

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.” 

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick. 

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum. 

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.” 

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure. 

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely. 

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?” 

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle. 

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger. 

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm. 

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.” 

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.” 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?” 

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb. 

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment. 

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.” 

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips. 

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair. 

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch. 

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty. 

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving. 

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?” 

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!” 

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.” 

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions. 

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric. 

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.” 

 It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion. 

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—” 

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on. 

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight. 

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.” 

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board. 

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.” 

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order. 

bonus.

“So.” 

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair. 

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt. 

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!” 

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?” 

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.” 

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words. 

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?” 

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory. 

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest. 

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite. 

[melody-of-lost-souls]

Howdie!

So you know how SS stans glorify that scene where Sakura said that Sasuke screws her every once in a while?

Well it's all cap, especially since it's not canon 😲😲

Cuz when you think about it, it make no sense. Considering how Sasuke barely pays attention to her, even though she is his "wife" now (only by name I'm pretty sure), and considering how he's barely home, it just makes no sense that he'll go to sleep with her by his own will (I'm pretty sure another reason he doesn't come home is because this girl will guilt trip him into having smex, it just makes sense that she does that 🤷🏽‍♀️).

If he looks like he's about to just ball his eyes out just by being in the same home as her, what the crap makes them think that his mindset would change at any point of time? She disgusts him, for Pete's sake🤧🤧

You got our boy looking like he'd rather become a beggar and eat leftovers than being in the same room as her and eating her cooking.. I feel kinda bad for her tho 😲 but then again she's the one who wanted that soooooo.

He literally went out of his way to abandon her with a kid for a whole decade 💀💀. Oh but wait that's totally not a red flag 👍. Because LOGICALLY, OKAY??? IF YOUR HUSBAND LEAVES YOU FOR A DECADE, AND HAS NEVER KISSED YOU, LIKE EVER, AND LOOKS SO DEPRESSED BECAUSE OF YOUR PRESENCE, DOES NOT COME HOME OFTEN, AND HESITATES TO EXPLAIN TO PEOPLE AS TO WHY YOUR FEELINGS AND HIS ARE CONNECTED AND TURNS OUT IT'S BECAUSE OF THE CHILD AND YOUR EXPRESSION IS JUST PURE SADNESS BUT TRY TO HIDE IT BY STUPIDLY SMILING A BIT, MEANS THAT HE'S ALWAYS HAD EYES FOR YOU. HE'S ALWAYS LOOKED AT YOU. ALWAYS DREAMED OF HOLDING YOU IN HIS ARMS! THAT'S WHAT IT MEANS!

Generally, it's just nonsense that he'd sleep with her. Considering the way Salad was born, it is just way too sketchy for me to say that they ever slept together. It doesn't sit right with me. It's weird.

I expect we are thinking about the same scene jaja you mean one that happens during chunin arc right?

If that's the scene, i dont know how can SS glorify that scene since that puts in evidence, AGAIN, how awful as mother Sakura is. Because, besides their horrible and bad reading comprehension, in that scene Sarada was also present and Sakura said "Your father comes on a while, but you dont sense him since he comes at night and leaves early in the morning" then Sarada replies her mother was very easy on him and she makes an embarrased face. Of course SS and dudebros took this as a direct sex confession. The fact is that Sarada was complaining about Sasuke abssense in her life and in the exams, and Sakura to calm her a bit ,said this. Saying well...your father at least come to sleep. Its absurd, since he is on mission...So you will tell me he does from time to time the same ritual to ONLY GO TO SLEEP/ or fuck sakura? But he couldnt do this all the years he left them?

Now think a bit. Is it correct for a mother TO TALK ABOUT HER SEXUAL LIFE, or made any suggestion, TO HER DAUGHTER??? Dont fucking come at me about culture or whatever. This is not okay. This speaks, again, loudly of how bad as a mother Sakura is, not respecting her role, taking her child as "a friend" and sharing intimate content, that her 13 years old child MUST NOT LISTEN. And its not a question about being strong woman, or having a strong responsability or being submissive or a housewife. It is about basic things about the role as a mother you have now.

It s funny that during that arc Sasuke was immensely happy with Boruto, training him and smiling for the litle brat.

Anyway, I also think they never had sex. I cannot swear or say "Kishimoto INTENDED TO DO THIS" becuse im not in the mind of the man. But the narrative and plot of the gaiden is very very suspicious and set a lot of questions and some "hints" maybe? That Sarada wasnt born by the common methods lets say. Its curious, you got a story about CLONES, CHILDREN "MAKING", A LAB THAT "MAKES" CHILDREN, also those children HAVE SHARINGAN which only belongs to Uchihas, and the last uchiha which is Sasuke, OROCHIMARU INVOLVED, KARIN (BIGGEST SS ENEMY) STATED TILL THE LAST MOMENT AS SARADA BIOLOGICAL MOTHER, Naruto the only one TALKING ABOUT LOVE and giving the kid a pep talk that should have been given by Sakura(the mother in question) , A trope that purely belong to divorced-parents- and a big etc. Also considering Sasuke, if he has sex with Naruto ,that's talking too much and would be a hard work of patience. I dont know how SS envision Sasuke as this Christian horny Grey, like...where they took this from? xD Funny that SS thinks that because you had sex( if they ever had once) and have a kid , means immortal love. THey should go out of their bubble, and know the real world.

[angrelysimpping]

i promise im not stalking im just bedbound for a while and a little stalky

(also if there is ever a bastard who deserves to be “and there was only one bed”’d it’s bailey, we will shove tomfoolery down his throat and he will like it)

NONONO AS THE OG ANGST PROMPTER I PROMISE I DIDNT MEAN TO IMPLY PC DIED. You fucker have faced the ubrothel and the farms and morgan’s decreipt ass, there’s no way a bullet could take you out! However you definitely can bleed and Bailey having to scoop you up in his already worn body? Having to drag your ass to safety while you nearly stop responding? Life changing experience, you’re beyond depraved and don’t judge your kinks anymore, but you take a moment to appreciate the timing of noticing bailey’s a hot piece of ass when Bailey snarls at you to shut the fuck up when you can’t stop snarking for one goddamn second even if you’re bleeding out. But then you actually do stop talking and that just means you’ve passed out from blood loss, great job Bailey.

Okay so you lied. The bullet hurt like a goddamn bitch and apparently went through several parts of your body bullets should most definitely not go through. You vaguely remember flipping Harper off because you still haven’t forgiven them for the asylum, that whore. You also vaguely remember Bailey at your bedside, barking orders at someone in his take-no-shit voice, but to your ears he sounds a bit frightened. So you being the dumb of ass you are use all the little bitch energy you have left in you to curl one of your fingers around Bailey’s. He makes some kind of face when you just go “shhhhhh”. In your delirium you thought it’d be funnier okay.

But hey, you’ve survived death! You mentally add that to your self given feats. You have to keep a running tally or you’ll go insane from the shit you go through.

Surviving death means your fucks left to give are so beyond subzero you could find Santa going hohoho there. So when you’re finally awake enough to get discharged, you’re not really expecting Bailey to pick you up. You’re not. But if he did? No fucks, you’re gravitating towards that man like a moth to fire and dragging a fucking actual goddamn hug out of him. Utter bastard and human trash that he is, you are just so damn relieved he’s okay. Take advantage of the split second Bailey’s taken aback to paw at him and check for wounds you know he had.

You find a few new scars on his rough skin that look like yours and you grin and point out that, hey, you match.

And then, more tiredly, let’s go home.

There’s a small, small chance Bailey doesn’t drop you off in your room and instead deposits you carefully onto his own bed. It just makes sense at the moment, you’re clearly in no damn position to take care of yourself with all those bandages and the limp. He goes off to work and comes back to you still sleeping. He could kick you out. It’s his bed. But he’s also a perpetually freezing asshole with a streak of guilt somewhere deep inside his stone heart, so instead he slips into bed and pretends he doesn’t get the best sleep of his life. Not when admitting it also meant admitting he’d come to instinctively connect you with “safe”.

AAAAAAAA

One of my fav things is PC who has dealt with all the shit the town has to offer. You're just so done with everything that even getting shot doesn't really surprise you.

The curling the finger!! Checking Bailey for injuries while hugging!!!! The "we match" to "let's go home"!!! Home!!! Him putting you in his bed!!!! 🥺😖🥺

He swears he'll kick you out if you say anything when you wake up with his arm around you. He might actually do it if you make any jokes about morning wood.

He refuses to admit that sleeping next to you has brought him the best rest he's had in at least a decade. But he never runs you off to your own room. Even after all your injuries have healed, he never says anything about wanting you to leave his bed.

He's not as angry, or surprised, as he thought he would be when he wakes to find you touching yourself while staring at him.

[slytherinsnekxvii]

muggle snape au!

Eileen Prince is young when she runs away from home. The older she gets, the bleaker life seems, each year following the decades-old pattern of betrothals and politics and scandals and orders and tradition. It's tedious, and everyone knows it. No one speaks about it. She turns fourteen and then fifteen and then sixteen, and each time she sits for a new portrait, the effort it takes to maintain a smile grows greater and greater. By seventeen, she truly can't be bothered anymore.

She graduates that same year, her grades impeccable, and does... nothing. At home, there is no Gobstones team to captain, no reason to tend to the garden when there are elves about. She attends dinner parties and weddings and galas, straight-faced at her parents' side, waits for her parents to marry her off until she can endure it no longer. Six months after she turns seventeen, she attends Abraxas Malfoy's wedding, nods politely, makes small talk when she's spoken to and feels something shift at the back of her mind when she realises that this isn't what she wants. When they return home that night and everyone else has gone to bed, Eileen quietly packs her things and leaves.

She runs away without knowing where she's going or what she intends to do, but she does, and she loves. She loves the world; for years, she travels lightly and quickly so that she can see as much of it as she can, delighted in even the dusty, cracked streets of Cokesworth. She loves learning; she picks up languages and skills and all manner of things for the sheer joy of it. She loves a man; his name is Tobias and he calls her 'Leen and makes her blush and she loves until it makes her heart ache to think of him and her kisses are a prayer away from being worship.

Eileen's trouble—for everyone has their own sort—is that she loves. She loves Tobias and she learns that he is not a man who enjoys secrets, and even less a man who could bear having a witch for a wife. She loves the world and it betrays her. It shows her families, loyal and loving and cruel in the stinging way of wounded pride and the dull ache of regret, and she wants nothing more than to hate even the thought of such a thing. It shows her a happiness that she cannot have if her child is born the way that she was.

So, instead of hating the world and the hand it's dealt for her, Eileen, who doesn't love so much as she devotes herself utterly (to travelling, and to learning, and to one man), thinks of her child and promises, fierce and uncompromising, that she will love them too and she will do everything in her power to care for them.

Her son is born on January 9th, 1960, and she loves him. She loves him, and she loves her husband and she loves their family, so she holds her breath for the first three or four years of his life, waiting and waiting for any sign of accidental magic, anything at all that might prove his heritage to his father.

She gets her sign one day, when Tobias is at work and her books begin levitating without a single bit of effort from her. It's all she needs.

She loves them, so she tells herself that she is a witch and she is capable and Toby doesn't have to know. When her husband and son—her family—have gone to bed, she rifles through her old things, the few books and such that she'd taken with her when she fled from her parents' home until she finds what she's looking for.

She blows dust off the cover, opens the book and listens to the spine creaking and the rustle of paper as the book flips through its own pages. They stop, gently falling open at the potion she needs and she nods, once, determined. The ingredients are fickle things, but she'd been good at Herbology in school—perhaps even better than she was at Potions—and so, it's not much to take a very quick, very discreet trip into Diagon Alley to find the seedlings she needs and nurse them to maturity within days. The trip to the Apothecary is a little harder, but nobody's really paying attention to who comes and goes at this time of year, so she buys what she needs with what she has and she leaves.

It's an old, old potion, used for many different things, deceptively easy to brew. It was once circulated amongst the Azkaban wardens for use on particularly unruly prisoners, especially when it couldn't be justified to give them the Dementor's Kiss. The Ministry used to administer it to people like her, who ran away from their lives to make homes in the Muggle communities. People whose very existence was once a threat to the secrecy of the Wizarding World. She is about to use it on her son, to make sure that her husband never knows about magic, never has the chance to find an excuse to leave them, to hurt them, to stop loving them.

She relies on old skills, brews in the kitchen while Toby's away at the mill and Severus is at school. The day it's finished, Tobias sees it on the fire before she can hide it away and wrinkles his nose at it, asks what it is.  She grits her teeth and ignores the pounding of her heart in her chest as she tells him it's a failed attempt at a new recipe and tries to turn him back to the table. A muffled thunk catches her attention, so she looks over his shoulder, watches Severus' glass bounce—bounce—off the solid floor and quietly loses her mind.

"All right there, 'Leen?" Tobias rumbles at her, and she shakes her head and orders them both back to the table. She prepares three plates of food—recently, there's been enough to feed them all comfortably, what with Tobias dragging Severus out to the mill or the park, sometimes, rather than spending all his free time and money at the pub. Silently, she scrapes the potion into the smallest of the lot, mixes it in until it's unnoticeable except for, perhaps, the taste. She eats with her husband and her son, and while Severus does wrinkle his nose a bit, he doesn't say anything and finishes the meal.

He's sick for a week. Fever burns through his tiny body, wreaking havoc on an already poor immune system. She panics a little—it isn't supposed to last this long, why is it taking so long?—but, still, she sits at his bedside with water and cold compresses, until he breathes easy, and sleeps restfully. The fever breaks, and he goes back to school. She continues to watch him. Glasses shatter, toys do not levitate, windows remain shut and she finds herself smiling despite the guilt that bubbles under her skin, sometimes. She's just burnt out her son's magical core, after all. Used one of the Wizarding World's most ancient punishments and turned him into a Muggle.

The years pass by, slowly, and quietly, with no fanfare. Tobias takes care of his family. He calls his wife 'Leen, tells his coworkers about her, preens when Smith's wife compliments her garden. He brags about his son, real smart—he takes after his mum, then, eh, Toby?—and good enough with a ball—your lad's quick, I'll give 'im that, at least. Eileen's glad for it, because now, the twinge in her chest is all but unnoticeable.

Severus does take after her, she notices. Spends more time in his books than anywhere else, although it's never really a fight to get him running off to the park to get dragged into a game of footy. He's good with his hands, too. He helps her out in the garden, tends to the plants almost as well as she does, even if he isn't truly aware of what some of them are.

When he turns eleven, there is no letter. Instead, there is laughter when his father traipses back into the house, just in time for a late breakfast. "Your brat's nagging me again, 'Leen," Tobias teases.

"Mine, Toby?" she chuckles at him. "I'm not the one who has him after me like a duckling."

"I wouldn't have to if you'd get him out of his books an' that garden of yours."

She hums, noncommittal. "Hm, well. And where, exactly, is this brat of ours?"

"I didn't tell you? He made a friend. They'll be 'round soon enough."

"Oh?"

"There's hope for him yet."

"Does this friend have a name?"

"Something... flowery? Her and the sister. Rosie, Daisy..." Tobias trails off, his thinking interrupted by the sound of the door slamming, followed by lively chatter.

"Good morning to you, too," Eileen greets, as the pair of muddied children walk into the kitchen. "Who's this?"

"Oh—" Severus starts.

"Hi!" The girl smiles, and Eileen takes a minute to look at her, all bright green eyes and leaves in her hair. "I'm Lily."