#but i still don’t wanna do it it takes long enough lmao

[lyriumsings]

deep cleaning the house rn and i’m just thinking about how badly i want sevens pov from ch 2 to see how they feel about an mc that’s expecting the worst out of them on the bus with the phone call to their parents. the idea that the mc is fully expecting seven to kick them while they’re down. like what’s it like to be on the other side of that homie?

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[sabertoothwalrus]

here are some preliminary sketches I had done in my sketchbook for the peepaw chilchuck comic.

I wanted to follow it up with some worldbuilding thoughts I had while working on it, if that sort of thing is interesting to anyone:

- it’d take place 5ish years post-canon

- I changed almost everyone’s hair to show time had passed. Chilchuck and Kabru were the most drastic (I COULDNT STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT LONG HAIR KABRU THAT KUI DREW), Marcille grew out her bangs, Senshi’s beard is slightly shorter, and Izutsumi’s hair is mildly longer. Laios and Falin give me the impression that they’re the brand of neurodivergent that’d pick one haircut and stick to it for the rest of their lives. I almost gave Laios facial hair but idk he’s gotten over his daddy issue enough for that.

- Emertim Chils: I tried to follow both the half-foot and dwarven naming conventions for the baby, so Emer- comes from “emerald” (dwarven names are often gemstones or ore) and -tim because Chilchuck’s father’s first name was Tim :) Dwarves don’t have family names, so Emertim would take Chils, same as Flertom. Usually they’re named after their father but I didn’t wanna name a random dwarf man. thank you Chel for helping name him 🫶💕

- Initially the idea that Chilchuck would keep an entire grandchild a secret was just a joke, but it made sense when I thought about it. I wonder,, would dwarf/half-foot couples have trouble conceiving? Because if so, I’d imagine Flertom may have lost a couple pregnancies. Chilchuck is already such a private person, and I don’t think he’d feel comfortable airing his daughter’s grief like that. They wouldn’t wanna tell anyone until they were sure this baby was gonna make it.

- For the above reason, Chilchuck would absolutely spoil this kid. Not that he wouldn’t have spoiled his grandkids anyway, but I think after all that stress, he’d be extra extra doting. He’d be letting him do things he’d never DREAM of letting his own daughters do. Completely different parenting style.

- I think he’s still too prideful to take advantage of Laios being King (sidenote: is Laios even wealthy??? does a kingdom that sprung up from a previously-sunken continent even have money?? what the fuck is their economy), but like,,, if Laios offered any gifts he wouldn’t exactly say no.

- Izutsumi surprisingly really likes the baby :3 she’d like to take naps with him and he’d like her purrs and she’d have a lot of fun playing with him.

- SENSHI. meemaw mode. That kid would grow up not realizing Senshi isn’t technically one of his grandads. He is FEEEEEDING this kid.

- LAIOS DOES GET TO HOLD THE BABY!!!!!! just. eventually. They don’t actually expect a Tarrare situation LMAO they just wait until the kid is a little less fragile and a little more mobile. I think Laios would be really good with toddlers.

- Chilchuck is very thankful Emertim’s half-foot genes kick in sooner than later because he was getting too big for him to carry.

- Emertim would probably get the extended lifespan. He and Marcille would get to stay friends for a very very long time :’)

- my personal headcanon is that Chilchuck and his wife decide to split. He still loves her and it’s probably still a bit mutual, but after four years of almost no-contact, they decide their communication issues aren’t working well for their relationship. Plus, the Adventurer’s Bible says Chilchuck is renting their old house out to family, and he’d feel bad kicking them out so he and wife could move back in. They’d still be on good terms, and would be good at coordinating when to babysit.

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

[urwonnly]

— ꩜ ENHYPEN BF HCS !

# hyung line ver.

# genre : fluff

# format : bulletpoint

# warnings : none :3

# note : i'll be posting maknaes soon! there may also be a nsfw ver. for legal line... (these r my opinions, they are not meant to be an accurate portrayal of any of them. this is me being delusional lmao)

# tags : @hoonigiris @kimsohn bc i would not have finished this without them <3 thank u for helping me with this

⟢ HEESEUNG

loves seeing you get along with his friends. like it genuinely makes him feel like you can fit right into his life so perfectly 

wants something long term, looks to be with someone he can spend a long time with

casual intimacy; holding your hand in a crowd, hand around your waist when you stand next to each other, resting his head on your head. just likes to feel close to you :( 

likes taking you places, like you tell him you wanna try this new food spot and he says hes picking you up in ten minutes 

uses cheesy one liners just to see your face scrunch up before you laugh, thinks your laugh is the most beautiful thing 

rarely uses your name, he is always calling you some sort of pet name (and when he wants to be silly he calls you shit like “beautiful sweetie muffin cake”) 

he will pout if you dont use a term of endearment back

is also super supportive and encouraging; you mention slight interest in a new hobby and he’s immediately sending you videos of things you’d need and asking if you want him to get it for you

he loves seeing you succeed in whatever you put your mind to and loves to know that he can be a motivation behind those achievements 

you call him your muse one time and he almost cries 

hates to see you down, is the type to immediately try and cheer you up. but if you tell him you need space he will respect that (but he’ll still stay near you and fidget nervously because he doesn’t like not knowing what to do) 

⟢ JAY

the most supportive™︎, like you just know he's always there for you whenever you need him

wants to feel needed; he just wants to know that he's taking care of you well, i imagine him constantly checking up on you and asking if you’ve eaten or drank water etc

more of a quiet lover; his love language speaks through actions more than words 

loveslovesloves dinner dates, likes to see the both of you dressed nice and looking good and loves to take pics of you eating good food

i dont see him doing matching couple outfits but he Does do coordinated couple outfits; his tie is gonna match the color of your dress, matches his accessories to yours 

i dont think he frequently uses pet names but he says your name so gently, your name is a term of endearment in itself 

loves to buy you things!! especially stuff you can wear or use everyday. he spends so much money on you and wont bat an eyelash abt it

likes to take pics of you, has an entire album on his phone full of pics of you and keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet 🙂‍↕️

you Never have to ask to wear his things, he literally doesn’t care. he won’t even ask for them back, he wants you to keep it. you asked one time to wear a hoodie and he’s like “of course babe, whatever you want.” and then tells you you don’t need to ask ever

⟢ JAKE

he becomes head over heels so fast, just absolutely enamored 

he had a crush on you for soooo long, like all the other members were painfully aware of it way before he was and it lasted so long, u ended up realizing before he ever confessed

i think if he was a bit intimidated by you, you may have had to be the one to ask him out first

he loves going out just as much as he loves staying in but when you two do go out, he likes to be doing something fun 

also big on casual intimacy; wants to be holding you in some way at all times. he rests his head on you, has his pinky intertwined with yours, plays with your fingers while you're talking, keeps an arm around your waist or shoulders

wants to show you all the things he’s interested in; soon enough you start sharing interests just bc of how much he talks about them 

the most caring, is always willing to listen to you vent if you’ve had a rough day or celebrate with you if you’ve had a good day 

he will absolutely go on long-winded rants about some niche subject only he's well-knowledgeable in and you sit there listening to him with hearts in your eyes bc he gets so animated abt whatever it is (...even if you have no clue what he's talking about)

even after dating, he still acts like he has a crush on you; getting flustered when you call him baby, blushing when you catch him staring, etc

also loves to have pictures of you, any pic you’ve sent him is immediately saved in his camera roll and added to his collection; you’re probably his wallpaper on All his devices 

in a non idol au he would most definitely flood his insta story and feed with all the pics he takes of you

talks about you all. the. time. (save jayhoon atp) 

he swears he falls more in love with you every day. like if he looks at you for too long he starts having heart palpitations (real). every time he sees you smile he feels like he has a crush all over again and he can’t help but follow you around with hearts in his eyes.

⟢ SUNGHOON

takes his time; you two have probably established you like each other for some time now but he doesn’t want to rush into things

also wants something long term; has no patience for games lmao 

i think he’s cautious about his heart, he wants to fully know he’s ready before he dives into anything

once you do make it official, he brags about you to anyone who will listen any chance he gets 

so supportive and knows how to push you when you start to lose motivation, will always want the best and more for you 

wants you to confide in him, even about the little things; tell him what you did today or who got on your nerves at work he lives for it 

he is a listener; feels like he can never know enough about you so he’s constantly keeping you talking 

also likes when you show interest in him and his passions; he gets shy about it but underneath that he loves it

the pictures he takes of you are almost always you being silly or cute; you wear one of his hoodies for the first time and he cannot keep the smile off his face because he thinks you’re adorable 

power couple vibes; likes when people gawk at the two of you in public (he likes to show you off) 

is possessive but not in a “you're mine.” way….. like he thinks he's subtle about it and he's definitely not. he leaves his hoodies at your house in hopes you'll wear it one day or he keeps an extra jacket in the car for you in case you forget yours. and when the day comes and you complain about being cold he's like “you can wear my jacket… you know if you want to..” and of course you know he's been waiting for this but you think it's funny to see him try and play it cool. 

[shirefantasies]

Heyyy i just wanna say that I LOVE your writing. Its so so comforting 🫶🫶🫶

Can I request a story/headcanon about how Thorins company/ specifically Kíli would react if (fem) reader got her hair braided by her (non dwarf) friend, and it was just a friendly thing, but the dwarves thought it was a courting braid?

Pairing Fem!Reader x Kíli

Thank youu🫶💗

Omg thanks! Comfort writing is a big honor 🥹

Mission of Misunderstanding- Kili x F!Human!Reader

Shout-out to my girlies in the unbraidable hair community lmao 🤝 Warnings: one minor swear lol, a couple suggestive remarks

One more step and your feet were going to fall off. Surrendering to the burn, you all but fell down onto the log, tilting your feet so only your heels rested upon the earth. A sigh escaped your lips and you didn’t even move when the rustling sounded at your back.

A familiar voice spoke your name. Bilbo. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, my friend,” you breathed, “so long as you don’t count anything below the knee. Or my hair. Can’t imagine how much dirt and leaves have gotten in it after all that.”

"Well, yes," Bilbo chided, ever the little mother-hen, "you've got to keep it back. Why don't I braid it for you?"

Your heart burst, and not from exertion this time. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course," the hobbit shrugged, "haven't had much practice of it of late, but certainly I can give it a go for you. I understand. I wouldn't want the mess either. Come here."

Thanking him again, you scooted closer to where Bilbo stood, gritting your teeth for the pain of him detangling your hair, only to relax at the gentle touch of his nimble fingers. Eyelids fluttering shut in contentment, you sat as Bilbo worked his magic neatening your hair up and making fresh braids of it for you. Feet still elevated and aching, but less so the longer you sat off of them. When the hobbit pulled back with a quiet, still-focused finished, your first instinct was to reach up around your head, touching the new set of braids with a widening smile.

"And now it shall be free of my face! Truly, thank you, Bilbo!" Pulling him into a quick hug, you vowed to repay him somehow with a teasing final statement. "Since I doubt you want me to braid yours."

"That is quite alright, thank you," he chuckled, "let's head back to camp before Bombur chases us down, eh?”

Camp was nearby, and still sparsely populated as you approached it. Bofur and Bombur were there building a fire, and Thorin stood a ways aside having a conversation with Balin. Dwalin and Gloin sat playing a game with a rock as their table, and Ori sat knitting. The others, you presumed, were hunting, saddling ponies, or else getting attention from Oin. Thinking nothing of it you sat down again, this time near Dwalin and Gloin, asking who was winning and if they were taking bets just to laugh at their responses. Bilbo helped Bofur and Bombur get set up for dinner a few feet off, propping up sticks strong enough to hold the cooking pot.

Sure enough, the rest of the company began trickling in, Oin, Bifur, and Nori first, the latter two with poultices and bandages. You winced. Perhaps you should complain less about your feet. Next up came Dori and Fili, who each carried one half of a felled deer, shot clearly with one of Kili's arrows. The younger prince had a bag in hand, likely having won whatever silly game determined who got the lightest load. Smiling and meeting his eyes, you gave a quick wave, indicating your amusement at the game behind you with your eyes.

Kili smiled back and waved, then swiveled his head away and back again in a double-take. You found yourself frowning as he averted his gaze to help his brother, blinking as you wondered what that was about. All you'd done was say hello. Not even say, really. Did he think you were making fun of the others?

Perhaps it was nothing, but considering your feelings for the prince, it was everything in your mind. Cycling ideas began overtaking your brain like mist. Had he suspected malice of your joke? Had he simply heard something? Why had his expression shifted so? Maybe he was just worried by what he heard.

~

"What did I miss while we were gone?"

At Kili's words, Dwalin simply frowned, peering at him like he'd thoroughly lost his marbles. "What do ya mean, lad?"

"Did...did anything happen?"

"Took Gloin for a right fool on the card table," the older dwarf replied with a smug look, chest puffing and shoulders widening.

"No," the prince shook his head, "not with you, with..."

Despite the way he trailed off, Dwalin gave him a knowing smirk, crossing his tattooed arms. "Ah, I see," he nodded, "not with me, not with me at all. With the lass, eh? Why, she didn’t greet you with a kiss?”

Having an older brother really steeled one to teasing. Much as Kili wanted to fight, to protest and say oi, quit that or I’ll make you, he knew it was exactly the rise Dwalin would’ve wanted to get from him. Beside the other fact that his elder could kick his ass easily.

“‘Course not,” he replied nonchalantly as he could, “I just noticed someone had braided her hair was all.”

Even Dwalin had cause for surprise at that, dark eyebrows shooting up to his metaphorical hairline. “Just since this morning?”

“Yeah,” Kili replied, trying not to sound as deflated as the words made him feel, knocking the air clean out of him now that he’d said them out loud, “thought maybe you’d seen who did it.”

“Hadn’t even crossed my mind, but I think it was like that when she and Bilbo headed back to camp.”

“Bilbo?” He’d lose to a three and a half foot…grocer? “Well now, I’d not have expected that, eh?”

“I can tell ye don’t actually want to laugh, son.”

Sighing, he finally let himself deflate. Bilbo? You and Bilbo?

~

“I hardly see them talk that much. Do you?”

“Not nearly enough to warrant a marriage. Those take time.”

“I know, Fee.”

“Spark.”

“I know.”

“And I thought you two had it. Not even just saying that because you’re my brother. You know I’m honest with you. The only reason those two would have is both feeling like outsiders, and that hardly seems cause to f-”

“Thank you, Fili, yes. Perhaps I was just wrong. Perhaps she could never have loved me after all. She wasn’t my One.”

“Now, brother,” grabbing him by the cheeks with one hand, Fili pulled his younger brother’s gaze to meet his, “not so hasty. Have you talked to either of them yet?”

“Wasn’t ready,” he mumbled, shaking out of the squishing grasp.

“Well, perhaps you should. Knowing is pain, yes, but it is also the thing that keeps us going in the end.”

Kili dropped his gaze thoughtfully before meeting his brother’s eye again, smiling faintly. “Remember our old espionage days? Maybe it’s time we had another mission.”

“Alright,” Fili nodded and smiled, “for old times’ sake.”

~

“Well hello there, Master Burglar.”

“Whatever it is, I won’t fall for it.”

“Now, now, so dry and for what?” Fili wrapped an arm around the hobbit. “I was just wondering how you you were coming along with…a certain member of the company.”

At that, the hobbit’s face crumpled in disgust. By Fili’s reckoning, Master Bilbo seemed barely interested in romance and certainly not with any of the types he currently ran with. He needed someone more doilies and dishcloths and the lot. You may have been the closest to his type, but still far too much of an edge, far too much indeed.

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo simply replied.

With a conspiratorial wink, Fili leaned in and whispered your name, glancing back to the hobbit’s eyes, which narrowed slightly. Suspicious.

“Uh, w-well I would say,” Bilbo stuttered, shrugging lightly, “well as we could be, all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Fili’s grip tightened a bit. “There are things to be considered?”

“There are plenty of things to be considered!” The burglar shot back. “Why, is she upset with me? Last I heard, she liked the braids and I made her feel much more comfortable. Have I done something today?”

Blue eyes closing to near-slits, Fili released his grip entirely, arm falling back to his side. “Did she ask you to arrange her hair?”

“She complained about it,” Bilbo replied, shimmying in his newfound freedom and using his released arm to slide his pack closer, “so I offered to do something about it. Can’t imagine that is much of an outrage…oh. Oh, good heavens! No! Oh, no. No. She could be my daughter, who on earth sent you over here to…?”

Blonde brows raising, Fili’s head shot back in surprising hard enough to send his mustache braids swinging. “Wait, so you do know about courting braids?”

“Gloin was just telling me all about his,” the hobbit replied, freezing in place even in spite of his awkward, hunched-into-his-pack-hands-deep posture, “neither of us thought a thing about it. Privately I was hoping she and Kili would do whatever it was to get the tension out there, you know?”

Fili did know. He knew, all right.

~

“Psst! Psst! Hoo! Hoo! Caw!”

Kili’s head snapped up at the sound, dark eyes meeting his brother’s fair head popping from the scraggly bushes surrounding camp. One gloved hand waved wild beckoning at the younger prince. Rising from the rock he’d sat down on, one with a strategic view of some conversation between you, Uncle Thorin, and Balin, Kili strode to the edges of camp.

“Reconnaissance successful,” his older brother hissed.

“What?” Jaw dropping, Kili felt his hands leave his chest and clench in surprise. “That was fast. Nothing for me to do?”

“Not true, brother. Not true at all,” Fili smiled, “your part is far more important. You have to go talk to her.”

With a sigh, Kili nodded despite the heavy clunk of his heart in his chest. All the childhood playtimes were nice and all, but at the end of the day he had to be a dwarf about things. Face his fears, just like Uncle Thorin and his father and even Fili.

“You’re right. Though I dread it in my heart, I must speak to her. Even if my love is never known.”

“I wish you the greatest of luck,” Fili patted his shoulder, smiling eagerly, “and trust me. She won’t do a single thing to hurt you. I know it. Alright?”

Another nod. “Alright.”

Inhale, exhale. One step, then another. It was hard sometimes. Putting on the bravado. Fili was always so capable and Uncle had high standards. Not that he shouldn’t, but…it just got easier to act unafraid of everything. In truth, there was much Kili didn’t understand. Much he feared. Perhaps even his own heart, and that was why he had allowed himself to play games with it for so long. No longer, though.

Crunching across the dry campsite ground, he marched up to you as your conversation ended and asked to speak with you, frowning slightly at the nod Balin and Thorin exchanged. Focusing instead on your gaze, the way your eyes were intent in his and the-admittedly quite adorable-way shock bloomed across your face before giving way to a smile and a nod.

“Of course,” you said, and that was that.

How was it that one little smile from you could simultaneously calm Kili's heart and set it leaping like nothing else? There truly was no denying that you were special. Perhaps Bilbo had seen what was so dazzlingly obvious, too. Guess that wasn't too much of a shock.

You both ventured toward the tree line, stopping next to a particularly sturdy trunk. Eagerness was written across your face as you leaned against the smooth bark, encouraging Kili with a smile he couldn't help faintly mirroring even as tears swam in his eyes.

"Are congratulations in order?"

"For me?" You asked, head tilting and hand reaching to your chest. "Forgive me, but what are you asking? I thought maybe I'd upset you last night, but now I really fear it. Or are you teasing me again?"

All thought was scrubbed from Kili's brain at your words, a thick blanket of confusion draping over the prince's mind and furrowing his brows. Is this what Fili meant? Were you not to hurt him because you thought him cross with you? That hurt a bit in and of itself. Perhaps you'd known he would be jealous. But then again, you had greeted him so casually, giving him a cute little wave when he came back...

"Please," he all but begged your name, "the suspense is just killing me. Is that not a courting braid you've been given? I know it is new as of yesterday."

"Is that why you looked so perturbed? Courting...courting braid? Kili," you laughed, "my hair was full of sticks and leaves and all manner of muck, so Bilbo detangled it and got it out of my face for me! Bilbo could be my father!"

Still a bit shaky, but Kili's face surrendered a smile at the teasing smack you gave his upper arm. "Oh, forgive me for being a dwarf," he shot back, "I was hardly the only one who noticed."

"But you were the only one who was jealous," you teased him back, "is that not right?"

Kili could tell by the faltering smirk you gave, by the dart of your beautiful eyes, that you did not truly believe it, but by Mahal, you would when he was done with you.

"Madly," he agreed, eyes boring into yours, "never let anyone but me braid your hair again."

Eyebrows shooting up to your hairline, you peeled yourself from the tree as if to get a closer look. "Kili..."

"I mean it," he implored your name once more, gently taking your shoulders in his hands, "please. This isn't a joke, but if you'd like me to convince you..."

Surging forward, Kili closed the gap between you two, his lips soft against yours and stubble pleasantly tickling against your skin, which shifted as you moved in response to his kiss. Your hands found purchase in his hair, tangling in it and eliciting a sound Kili was too focused on you to be embarrassed about. When you finally pulled away for air, he pulled you back, resting his forehead against yours with a growing smile.

"So, you convinced?"

Your eyes glittered with mirth, joy, mischief...perhaps even love, and Kili knew he should have never doubted you were his One. "So convinced I practically want you to rip out all of Bilbo's work and do it over again yourself."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[moonstruckme]

hi!!! i love all ur marauders works they’re seriously so cute and i love how you write them!! idk if you’ve done this one already and if you have just ignore this lol but could you do remus having a nightmare and reader comforting him? ik you’ve done the reverse but i wanna know what he’s like lmao. i need to see more confer remus i can’t get enough

Thank you lovely <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s already graying outside the window when you wake. Remus has been having some agitated nights lately, and the dim lighting of the bedroom lets you see that this has been another one. 

You’ve probably woken from the cold, all your sheets and blankets kicked mercilessly to the end of the bed. Remus’ face is twisted up tight, his hands twitching like they’re trying to grab for something, and he’s making soft, distressed little sounds that threaten to crack your heart clean in two. You hate to think how long he’s been like this without you waking. 

“Rem,” you start soft, reaching for his hand as you’ve learned to do. Touch his shoulder or any other part of him and he’s likely to wake jolting, your offending hand gripped cruelly by the wrist. Once, before you’d learned your lesson, he’d kicked himself fully out of bed from the start you gave him. You’d sat in the living room with a hot pack on his tailbone, murmuring apologies back and forth until the sun came up. 

You needle your fingers underneath his gently. “Remus, honey, you’re okay. You’re home.” His fingers twitch closer around yours, and you’re careful not to grab him back even though you want to, running the pads of your fingers down the length of his to loosen them. “You’re safe. You’re at home.” His eyes start to move faster behind his lids. “Rem.” 

That last whisper does it. He doesn’t startle, which is always a victory, but Remus still inhales sharply as he wakes. His muscles seize as though they mean to propel him somewhere, then relax shudderingly. 

You entwine your fingers with his, stay quiet. You know he knows you’re here but he won’t look at you just yet, hiding away the most frantic parts of himself before he’ll let himself turn towards you. You don’t love that he does it. You know better than to push him, though. It unnerves him worse when you try to jimmy your way into his thoughts while he’s still raw like this. 

“Sorry,” he says on an exhale. 

“Don’t be.” You start to stroke up his wrist, but Remus pulls his hand from yours, slipping out of bed and walking from the room. 

You tail him. This is part of your routine, too. You think he likes to give you the option of going back to sleep, though you can’t imagine he’d actually feel any better if you did. He’s fooling himself. (It’s okay; you’re a fool for him sometimes, too.) 

Remus isn’t surprised when you wrap your arms around his middle in the kitchen, resting your cheek against his back. He’s already got the kettle going. 

“How are you?” you ask, though you think you have some idea. He’s still trembling gently under your hands. 

“Alright.” He sets one hand over your two clasped around his front. “You should go back to sleep.” 

You almost smile at his predictability. Remus isn’t usually so stiff around you, but even he has admitted he reverts back to a younger, terser self when he’s feeling vulnerable. You could tell him that you’d have been waking up soon anyway, or that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew you’d left him like this, but you go with the truth that you know you’d want to hear. 

“I want to be with you,” you say simply. 

Remus turns in your arms, resting his lips on top of your head. “Thanks, dove.” 

You hum like For what? and step around him as the kettle finishes boiling, grabbing his favorite mug from the cabinet above. Remus lets you take care of him this little bit, but he doesn’t go to sit down in the living room until you’re headed that way too. 

You curl up against him on the couch, your knees tipped over his thighs while his legs bridge the gap between the sofa and the coffee table. He blows the steam off his mug. 

“Do you remember what the dream was about?” 

“Bits and pieces.” Remus’ voice is still a bit raspy with sleep, and you know exactly what he’s thinking when his lips twitch: you’ve told him more than a few times how attractive you find it like this. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about.” 

“Okay,” you say. You’re both speaking softly, like the house itself is still slumbering as morning creeps up on the outside world. After Remus’ nightmare, you imagine he appreciates the peace anyway.

He sighs, looking at you almost sheepishly. “Sorry I’ve been waking you so much lately.” 

“Sorry you’ve been sleeping so horribly lately,” you counter. 

Remus smiles ruefully. “I think it’s all this stuff going on at work. Rude of it to fuck with me even when I’m sleeping, though.” 

You hum, tracing a scar near his elbow with your finger. “I didn’t realize you were so stressed. I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve hardly realized it myself,” he admits. 

You frown, and Remus looks back into his mug, shying from your scrutiny. “Do you think it might help if we relaxed a bit more here?” you ask him. “We could start reading that book together again.” 

His eyes are soft when they meet yours, the color of honey and just as sweet. “That sounds really nice,” he says. 

You smile. It feels good to have a plan. “Hug?” you ask him. 

Remus sets down his tea to make room for you, and you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands spread out on your back, tentative at first and then firmer as you snuggle up to him. 

“I’ll make cheese toasties and soup tonight,” you say softly. Remus sounds almost like he could purr as you start playing with the hair at his nape. He gives your hips a little tug, getting you closer. “And we can read or watch something or do a puzzle, whatever you feel like when you get home. We could talk about the work stuff, if you wanted to.” You say this last part hesitantly, but Remus hums his approval. 

“You’re so good to me, do you know that?” 

You grin. “I do my best.” 

He huffs a laugh, the sound gruff and heart-squeezing. You lapse into a thin silence, each listening to the other breathe but feeling the beginning of the new day pressing at your windows. 

“We have some time before we’d normally start to get ready,” you try. “Want to stay like this for a bit?” 

“Yeah,” Remus sighs, settling his arms around you more securely. “Yeah, good idea.”

[milkloafy]

THE DUTIES OF A BODYGUARD — JIYAN

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: jiyan never does an assignment half-assed. accepting a job as your bodyguard means being there to protect you at all times.  ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: bodyguard au, modern au, fem!reader, reader is a rich gorl, spoiled but like aware?, almost nudity, 17+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.2k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: inspired by creativepromptsforwriting’s bodyguard prompts :> red flag!reader kinda LMAO she’s very diff compared to how i normally write them but yk what don’t we all wanna pretend we’re a spoiled rich bitch with a hot bodyguard sometimes?this reader would 1000% drive jiyan crazy but like in the best way yk vibes u.u 

There were few individuals who truly needed bodyguards, in your humble opinion. 

Not the president of whatever country, not the elderly monarchs that should be abolished, not billionaires who made their money exploiting the vulnerable. For all you cared, most of those people were entitled assholes who didn’t need to be protected. 

The only people who deserved bodyguards were those under great threat. And sure, the powerful and influential people could be in danger as well. But frankly, you still didn’t care about them. 

And, naturally, when your wealthy father told you he hired a bodyguard for you, you were suspicious. As far as you knew, you weren’t under any threat. Your family wasn’t even multimillionaire status. Just a few millions… 

Certainly not enough to warrant much attention or animosity that your safety was in question. You were only the heiress of a multimillion dollar company. Most of your friends were as well. It was nothing too out of the ordinary in your circle.

You thought having a personal bodyguard was useless and immediately spoke out against your parents when they mentioned they would hire one for you, though none of your complaints were listened to by your family, of course. 

Unfortunately, those complaints melted away when you saw your bodyguard. 

His long, blue hair was tied up in a ponytail on the back of his head and you immediately thought of how fun it looked to play with. His golden eyes drew you in with his serious stare. The tight black fit of his clothes hugged every defined muscle on his arms and abdomen, and you felt yourself staring for just a little too long. 

You met his gaze and the corner of your mouth quirked mischievously when you saw him eyeing you as well. 

“This is your new bodyguard, Jiyan,” introduced your father. “He is to accompany you everywhere, understood? And please, do not try to scare this one off.”

You smiled dryly, shrugging in response. It wasn’t as if your words mattered much around here. At least this time, your bodyguard was handsome enough to look at. Maybe you could even have some fun with him. 

At least, that was your thought before you realized Jiyan took your father’s words very literally. 

He accompanied you back to your apartment—up to the penthouse suite, of course. And you showed him an open guest room for him to stay at if need be. However, he didn’t stop at the living room or common areas like you had expected. Jiyan followed you even as you entered your room. 

As he slid through the door behind you, you gave him a questioning look. 

“Can I help you?” you asked, voice higher than normal. 

He shook his head. “No, I’m only here doing my job.”

“Your job?” you echoed. “Does being my bodyguard entail you being with me no matter where I go?”

Jiyan nodded without the slightest bit of hesitation. “Yes. As your father said, I need to be in the room with you at all times.”

He said that with such sincerely you almost giggled. You were certain he was taking the job too literally, but as you noticed the darkness outside your window, you decided you could mess around with him for a bit. 

“At all times?” you asked with a raised brow.

“That is correct.” 

With an exaggerated sigh, you shrugged. “Suit yourself.” 

When Jiyan didn’t reply, you began taking off your shirt, unfastening the pearl buttons adorning the front. With each button, you revealed more and more skin, from the curve of your breasts to the softness of your stomach. Without turning around to hide yourself, you slipped the sleeves off your shoulders and let the light pink, tweed jacket fall to the floor. 

Jiyan’s expression did not visibly change, but the color of his ears sure did. They were tinged a pretty red and you felt almost bad for teasing him. 

“Are you sure you want to stay in my room at all times, Mr. Bodyguard?”

He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you but ensuring his gaze never dropped below your face. The self-control of a true bodyguard, you complimented in your head. 

“Is this what your father cautioned against when he said not to scare your new bodyguard off?” retorted Jiyan, answering your question with one of his own. “Is this a common recurrence?”

You shook your head and made a face. “Ew. Never. The last guy was too old and not my type.” 

Jiyan’s lip quirked up—the first time you ever noticed his expression change—before it returned to its normal position. “As opposed to me…?”

“Someone who doesn’t look old enough to be my great-uncle and is very much my type,” you confirmed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have to finish getting undressed for bed.” 

You stood there in front of him in only a bra, a tweed skirt—matching your top that was discarded on the floor, naturally—and thin stockings. Slowly, you unzipped the side of your skirt and paused before it actually fell to the ground. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to step away now?” you said, hesitancy creeping up on you for the first time as your fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra. While you didn’t mind Jiyan seeing you like this, you didn’t actually want to make him uncomfortable. You had some morals, after all. “No one is forcing you to go this far to protect me. I promise, you’d still be an amazing, father-approved bodyguard if you just stayed outside my room and only came to check in on me frequently…”

“I never do my job halfway,” he said firmly. “Unfortunately, with the information your father briefed me with, you never know what could lurk outside, and I am here to ensure your safety at all times. Still, I assure you I do not feel forced to watch. I could have offered to turn around while you changed. If I wanted to.”

“So you’re just being a pervert, then?” you teased. 

“Says the one stripping in front of a stranger with no hesitation. Perhaps next time you should reconsider such actions.”

“You’re not a complete stranger,” you said, finally letting your short skirt fall to the floor. Innocently, you bent over to collect your dirty clothes and place them in the hamper for the maid to take care of. “You’re my bodyguard now, and a hot one at that.” 

Jiyan closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to rid his mind of any indecent thoughts he may have. “Do you need to say bodyguard in such a way that makes it sound…salacious?” 

Moving closer, you batted your lashes as you peered up at him. “That’s just how I normally say it.” 

He sighed and muttered under his breath, “I’m here to protect you from any danger, but what about the danger you’ll pose to me?”

You laughed, not disagreeing with his words. Instead, you placed a gentle hand on his bicep and Jiyan straightened in surprise before reciprocating with his own palm on your exposed lower back.

“It’s a good thing my father will never have to know.”

[nicromancytarot]

WHAT DOES YOUR PERSON WANT TO DO TO YOU? 18+ themes.

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what the person you’re thinking about would do to you if they could, this was crazy so pick a picture to find out!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

Bro’s fantasising, I put my music on shuffle and got this one song which triggered a memory of when I had a crush on this girl and sat in the car staring out of the window creating scenarios about her to the song lmao, so I feel as though your person may be on the same wavelength as me.

My entire body hurt during this reading, I was having full body channeling which was crazy for me, but as soon as I wrote down that my back and stomach were killing me, the pain went away, so your person may want to metaphorically break your back and possibly even get you pregnant, I was also randomly sweating like crazy so it’s gonna be steamy when they get to have you, I feel like you guys will be going for multiple rounds until both of you are absolutely exhausted and can’t take anymore.

Not going to lie, I see this being someone from the past? #Fuckexes. (Not literally.)

Firstly they may stalk your social media or keep tabs on you, I notice someone gasping at the others breasts if you have those, if they have breast than I’m pretty sure you love them, this is the type of conversation when someone can’t stop looking at the others breasts and is barely paying attention to the conversation.

They wanna watch you play with yourself, they may even want you to send them a video of you touching yourself.

For some of you I can see that they like butt-play, and they like having from behind cus they really enjoy your butt and shoulders, they may like to leave kisses or hickeys on the back of your shoulders. They may also only really see you in a room full of people romantically, but I do get senses that this person may have or might cheat if you were or get into a relationship.

PILE 2

They wanna wine and dine you prior to having sex with you, and I think that they also want to learn what you’re into and have a long winded conversation about both of your boundaries. They also really enjoy your breasts, or you enjoy theirs, I can see that either of you may want to leave a lot of kisses or hickeys there; maybe even for other people to see if you or they enjoy wearing low cut shirts and dresses.

They seem very gentle and worry about your pleasure more than their own, they do want to do some type of butt stuff with you. (What is it with the butt stuff today?) They want to eat the booty or go the full way with it.

At the end they want you to reward their hard efforts with some good ole’ head.

PILE 3

They want to offer a relationship before having sex with you, I do get the vibe that this could be a future spouse who picks you up after heartbreak as we have both the 4 of wands and the 3 of swords. This is the tile of sex that has you forgetting about all the bad things in your life and in the world.

There’s only one card in the spread where she’s not covering her stomach and it’s while she’s watching him count his money so you may only think about getting pregnant after you know they have enough money to sustain you and the baby (they do, they live a life of luxury.) Or you may show them that you have enough money before they think of allowing you to get them pregnant.

They want to take you from behind, finally we have a pile that doesn’t refer to butt-play (amen.) They’re pretty masculine so they would want to take over all of the masculine roles.

You may find them sneaking a glance at your breasts when you first meet.

[carmenized-onions]

The Other Shoe | Consultation

logline; old wounds tend not to heal, if you don't let them. but, there is hot chocolate, and love. so perhaps that's enough.

[!!!] series history, this is the seventh; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Finally got Hozier on here. Don't know how that took me so long.

portion; 3.1k

possible allergies; two absolutely garbage mental states of people who are NOT over Mikey or the way they've been treated. Bunch of self-loathin, the whole lot.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns!)

Took me a minute, new jobs goin' well though!! This one took a lot of stewing, lmao. Lot of staring and thinking. We'll talk after, but SO many alterations were made lmao.

It has been three weeks since you met Carmen in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of your life. Doesn’t feel like it.

In five days, you’ll have the second— Well, maybe third or fourth, worst day of your life.

But today is Monday, and you don’t know what’s coming yet.

It’s just after one in the morning, and you wake up to a phone call. Carmy. Yes, do not disturb was on. Yes, you’d set him on priority access— Which most people would find very cute and intimate, and it is— But he’s not the only one. It’s not a limited feature for people you want to kiss. There’s Syd, Richie, …Mikey…

Cause when is the right time to delete a dead friend’s contact info? It’s not right now. You know it’s not right now. And it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.

Phone call. You’re getting a phone call.

“Carm?”

“…”

You stir a little, bit, when there’s no reply, brain dehazing. “Carmy? Everything okay?”

You hear the beep of the phone call being ended. No way he butt-dialed you, right? You’re awake. You’re so awake. This feels all too familiar, and that's not a good thing. You immediately open your phone to text him, by the time you get to his contact, he’s already texted you. Actively texting you, in a rapid, manic succession.

‘fuck’

‘sorry’

‘you were supposed to be asleep’

Hm.

‘talking to a person hard right now?’

‘yes’

‘you’re so smart.’

‘easier to talk to robot you.’

‘wowwww’

It’s hard to write funny, right now. It’s hard to act like yourself, right now. You’re not sure how you’re doing it.

‘not what I meant’

‘I know. You’re you.’

‘you wanna send a voice message maybe?’

‘it’s fine. I’ll text.’

You give him time, you expect a paragraph since he’s taking so long, but instead you get,

‘can’t.’

‘carmen.’

‘I like you so much.’ Oh be still your stupid heart.

‘feeling is mutual.’

‘I can’t make my problems the only reason I talk to you’

Is that true? Fuck, that's kind of true, isn't it? But there's the puzzles! And there's been phone calls!

‘You talk to me for other reasons’

‘yeah. But it’s mostly problems’

‘with me.’

‘eh. Not really. Walk-in was you, toilet was Mikey, Nat had a baby, I’d consider the oven a shared problem of you and Syd’

‘oven was my fault’

He types for even longer this time. It’s hard not to interrupt him. When you start to type, he sends.

‘can I come over?’

‘I know it’s late’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

‘no’

‘I’ll walk. I’ll be there in 20.’

‘it’s not a problem to pick you up.’ It's a problem if he doesn't let you pick him up.

‘I know.’

‘promise I just wanna walk. Get air.’

God, why are your fucking hands shaking he just wants to walk. He just wants to walk. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe people when they say that anymore?

Everything’s normal. It’s been a good six days for Carm, you know that it’s been a good six days. Everything's normal. You’ve kept a puzzle streak every morning, you’ve called him some nights, he’s called you some nights. He’s had a good week. He told you so. Everything's normal. You’ve vaguely flirted in that extremely sexual yet completely nonsensical way new situationships do, via text. People don’t do that when they’re on the brink of death, right? Everything's normal. Stop playing with your pendant. Relax. Put a shirt on. Stop being so fucking paranoid. Stop typing—!

‘can you do me a favour’

‘anything’

‘can you turn your location on for me’

‘not to be invasive. You can turn it off when you get here, I—’

Before you can even finish typing your explanation, let alone send it, he sends his location, trackable. He’s already walking.

‘be there in 18.’

You watch, with bated breath, his little contact photo bubble marching across Chicago to you. You make yourself mildly presentable and make hot chocolate on the stove—Gotta use milk, for Carmen— For when he comes to you, out of the cold. Because he’s going to come to you. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here. You know that because you’ve been keeping your phone screen open and only look away to ensure you don’t pour milk on your stovetop and to blink.

He's here in eighteen minutes. You think if you had a stop watch going on, it’d be down to the millisecond. You open the door for him, before he can even knock. You watched his bubble walk up to your door. No point in waiting. You need to see him.

He’s breathing heavy. Held tight in his fist is a bundle of flowers— Importantly, not a bouquet, a bundle of flowers—Like, roots still on a few, visibly yanked out of the ground. Though seemingly from different gardens, since there's quite a variety. He looks at you, then down at the flowers, then back to you.

“I— I stole these.”

“Had a feeling.” You wave your hand for him to come inside, he does. “Are you okay?”

His steps falter, he seems downtrodden. You take the flowers, and then take his hand. He hesitates to speak, but he’s really trying to say fucking something. You squeeze his hand, it seems to help.

“I—” He swallows the spit caught in his throat. “I didn’t know— I— No. No, I did know— I knew the one place I had to come was, here. Had to go somewhere.”

You nod, you look over him. Silently doing a wellness check. You’re panicked. You’re so panicked. But he can’t know that. This is about him. You’re the one that takes care of people. He’s clean. He smells like Old Spice and you. He’s a little cold from the walk, he didn’t wear a jacket, but he’s warming up fast. He looks tired but not exhausted, which, for Carmy, is kind of as good as you’re going to get. He didn’t have the energy for a phone call, but he had the energy to come over and talk to your face; his social battery is wonky, but that’ll fix with time here. Is he hungry? That’s hard to tell on looks alone.

“You wanna talk about it, Bear?”

He nods, head down. Can’t look at you. You gently pull at his hand for him to follow you into the kitchen. “Made hot chocolate. You a marshmallow or whipped cream guy?”

His eyes are glassy, and his mood itself doesn’t change, but he does swiftly lift his head up to look at you with an incredulous, curious half smile. “You don’t do both?”

“I find it gets a lil’ busy. But I like the tiny marshmallows that come with the mix with whipped cream—”

“You gotta do actual cocoa.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like my hot chocolate to actually be rich. I want sweet.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good thing I’m a repairman, then.” You deadpan. He does actually seem to glow a little bit, at that. You repeat, hand full of flowers resting on your hip. “So both?”

“Both.”

He calms you down so easily, even when really, he was the oncoming stress— Or rather, your perceptions. He clears static for you, without effort. You nod, letting go of his hand— Slowly, withdrawing, like a silent promise that you will be back. You grab a paper towel and wrap the flowers in them, setting them down on the counter. You’ll plant them later. Honestly, kind of a better gift for you and your green thumb than a bouquet would be.

You turn to your oven to stir the pot of hot chocolate— Can’t have any fuckin’ clumps for Mr Michelin over here. Speaking of Michelin, he sidles up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder, hands hovering as if he’s going to hug your waist but simply cannot bring himself to.

He mumbles into your shoulder. “I lit my oven on fire.”

Ah. The oven was his fault. That's what he meant. When you pause and try to turn, that’s when he hugs you, holding you in place. “Please don’t look ‘t me.”

You take a deep breath, and continue to stir the pot. “Okay. I’m listening, not looking.”

“I did— I did it in my sleep. Not the first time. I think, I think they’re night terrors? But I don’t, don’t scream or nothin’— I don’t say shit actually. I don’t think.”

God, he’s insecure, even now, about how crazy you’ll think he is. Like telling your therapist everything that’s wrong with you except for the stuff that they might hospitalize you for. God, does he treat you like a fucking therapist? He’s awful. He’s awful for you. He’s awful for anyone. It doesn’t matter that you’re different— The common denominator is him. He’s a fucking piece of shit—

“I wake up screaming sometimes.” You reply, so softly. You feel his short nails dig into your sides just slightly for a second as he remembers where he is. He’s over your shoulder. No one’s over his. “Happens to the worst of us.”

You grab two mugs from the cupboard— Reaching with the arm he’s not leaning on. “Did you put it out or should I be calling my former C-F-D crew?”

“I put it out.” He notes your mugs. They’re mismatching. One is definitely handmade with messy floral patterns, the other a tourist trap Chicago mug.  They’re perfect. “I—I was cooking something, in my sleep— And then— Then the fire starts.”

You ladle the hot chocolate into the mugs— Usually you’d just pour it straight but you don’t want Carmen to watch you inevitably spill half of it on your counters. You nod, “Do you dream that you’re cooking?”

“K-Kinda? I’m not cooking, I’m the Head, the expediter— And, and my Exec is over my fucking shoulder and he’s— Just in my head.” He swallows, thinking of how to explain without explaining. “And then I wake up, and there’s a fire, and I watch it grow, and I think about what it would mean if I just let it, and how I’d want it to.”

“And then you put it out?”

“And then I put it out.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. And it’s fucking with me. ‘Cause— ‘Cause things are really good right now.” You tense under him, and he knows it’s because you don’t believe him. “They are, they really really are. Sug bein’ away is… not easy, but, it’s, it’s okay—”

“Carm.” Your tone is so accusatory.

“It’s the same nightmare it used to be.” He doesn’t hesitate to correct as soon as you question it. He cannot lie to you. For one, you see right through him. For two, it’s you. You’d rather know he’s insane. For some reason. “It’s been hard. I— I know fuck all, about business, and, and we can’t afford to hire a fuckin’ replacement right now because we owe so much fucking money or the whole thing caves— But it’s— It’s been good.”

You grab a handful of mini marshmallows, splitting them between the two mugs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods into your shoulder. “Everyone is… happy, right now. It’s not always fuckin’ breezy but— Everyone’s, everyone’s okay. And I have somethin’ I can actually be proud of, right now. And I have— I — You’re around. N’ that, that has been good. For everyone.”

You hum. Heart full, at that. You awkwardly shift to your fridge, waddling like a penguin instead of turning, as not to disturb Carmen, he chuckles against your shoulder. “You can tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to.” You hug his arm to you. This makes him squeeze just a little tighter. You pull out a half-empty can of Reddi-Wip, shaking it violently, as instructed. “Say when.”

You hover the can over the tourist mug, he shakes his head. “Other one.”

He wants the handmade one. Your fingerprints are grooved into the handle. You ignore how insane this makes you feel, and spray whipped cream into the handmade mug. You’re waiting for him to say when.

It’s getting to a concerningly tall pile, at this point. You feel him swallow. He finally says the quiet thought out loud.

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even in my sleep, I know it’s coming.”

You nod, you stop spraying. You think on it for a beat. You opt to be honest. “I am, too.” You nod. “I am, too.”

“What’d’you think it’s gonna be?”

You feel your neck flare red and hot, guilty. Horrifically guilty. Lifesaver. You spray whipped cream into your own mug. You don’t really want both whipped cream and marshmallows, but it’s a good way to disguise how shaky your hands are. You take a deep breath.

“Think you’re gonna realize I’m not as good as you think I am.”

He kind of, tugs at you, pulling you closer to him, as if to rebuke thee. “You’re very good, Tony.”

You just hum in reply, once again, the pile of whip cream grows— It sputters, and basically nothing is coming out, but you can’t bring yourself to move, so it continues to struggle. He lets you do this, for a moment, before softly, questioningly speaking your name.

You just hum, again. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. This isn’t even about you, this is about him. “I’m good.”

“You are.” He declares, like it’s law. He grabs the empty can from you hand and puts it on the counter, then turns you around to face him. You keep your head down, there’s every chance you throw up and die if you— “Look at me.”

“I know—” He does not give you the chance to excuse yourself, he grabs your chin, softly, but still, forces you to look at him.

“You’re very good.” Too much eye contact. Too close. Too sincere. Too much— “Too good, too good for anyone.”

Too good for him. You, of course, don’t think that. But that’s exactly why you’re too good. “I’m not gonna change my mind ‘bout that.”

“…Hope so.”

Carmen can see it, now. The way your jaw clenches, how you’re looking past him, not at him. The way you mirror how he imagines he looked in the walk-in, to you. He decides to take a page out of your book, and hugs you close. “Know so.”

Your chin hooks over his shoulder. You stare down the hall of your apartment, brain somewhere else. He stares over your shoulder at the hot chocolates, whipped cream slowly melting and overflowing onto the counters.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it.

“I—It’s not—This about you, not me—”

“It’s both. It can be both.” The shared burden.

You sigh, putting your arms around his shoulders. “…I’ll talk about it eventually, I promise. Just not… Ready—Right now.” You’re not ready to risk him no longer liking you. You need a little more time to be selfishly avoidant. “Eventually, though.”

He nods. He gets it. He does it.

“How do you think the other shoe’s gonna drop? If it does?”

This was the exact question he didn’t want, but you answered it, kind of, and that means he has to answer it, kind of. He relaxes his hold on you. “Think you’re gonna see me when I’m— When I’m not me— When I’m— I’m like, like my fuckin’ family.”

When he’s angry. When he yells. When he’s mean. When his crises don’t take the form of hibernation. When he’s frightening.

“Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.”

When he said that everyone’s happy at The Bear, he knows it’s because you’re back in the atmosphere. You bring a lightness that he never could, that he always envied in his brother. He honestly needs to break something at The Bear to get you to come in soon, because it’s been two weeks since you made everyone coffee, and your presence is only finally starting to wain in power. He really needs to start paying himself so you can get on bar.

“I don’t love being yelled at, certainly.”

You know what acting like his family means. Mikey used to do it. When things got bad. And while you got better and better at being understanding, still never managed to keep yourself from tearing up. “But it’s nothing that would make me leave. Nothing that’s not worth it.”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. His bad side, his anger, his violence, his teeth, the parts of his functionality that he hates, you consider worth dealing with, for the sake of the rest of him.

It reminds him, of a question that’s been on his mind for a while now. His chin digs into your shoulder, a little bit. He swallows.

“Do you really not think taking care of people is a lot of work?”

You frown, thinking about it. It is a lot of work. It’s exhausting work, rotten work, to take care of people.

“It is a lot of work.” You tilt your head, kiss his clothed shoulder. “But it’s just pure instinct, to do. “I care therefore I care, or somethin’.”

“What a poet.”

“Fuck off.”

You both laugh; then comfortable silence. He’s the first to break it. “You’re good.”

“We’re both good.” You pull back to look at him. Nothing has truly been resolved, and yet he looks more at peace. Thank, God. You’re doing a good job. You’re not failing again. “You wanna go drink these barely warm hot chocolates in my bed and pass out?”

“Please.”

Carmen never turns off his location, and he never will. He doesn't ask why you want it. He takes advantage of the whipped cream on your nose and the severe lack of napkins in your bedroom when he can. He replaces the Cubs jersey wearing bear in your arms, that night. He hopes he will forever, he's pretty sure he won't.

In five days, this Friday will be the worst Friday of your lives.

But neither of you know that yet. The painting is still not finished, he hasn’t yelled at anyone around you yet, Carmen still doesn’t know about the necklace you’ve tucked under your shirt every day for the past year.

The other shoe still hangs in the air; but not in your bed.

You pray it’s fall will not wake the bear.

FUCK bro.

It was tough writing in a way that was coherently incoherent. Like, neither of these two want to talk about their problems, so they are vague, but I know what the fuck is going on-- And hopefully you kindddaaa get what's going on?? There's still a little mystery I'm holding on for myself, hehehe. I'm very curious if anyone has theories by now tbh. What's this hidden part of Tony's life!!! They're usually so open!!! So what's this shit!!!

I cut out like a WHOLE 300 words of them doin' a smooch because it just made no fuckin' sense. They're both in emotional hell, couldn't force it, even if I wanted it. But there was the cuddlin' and nose kissin' in bed. So I think that's a good caveat.

But the most insane part of this chapter for me, and you'll see later, THIS chapter and the next,,,,, 3 chapters? Were all gonna be ONE. I know. Nuts. I was essentially gonna format it like all snippets of this one week, because as we know, Fridays gonna be the worst friday! But I realized like a quarter way through writing this one, that it simply couldn't just be a snippet. It needed to breath as it's own full thing. As did the next 3 chaps. I think they'll be a lot more digestable this way and also it won't force me to hole away for a fuckin month writing it without giving you a single morsel of content.

Anyways, tell me what the fuck you THOUGHT!! I'm excited to hear thoughts, hopefully all good ones~~~

Next Part

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

hi! can i ask for how the boys would be/react to you playing with their hair? (if you haven’t already) like doing braids or pony tails and using them like those mannequin heads lmao, thank you :)

A/N: I honestly can’t believe I haven’t written something like this, this is such a sweet and wholesome idea, thanks so much for dropping it in Nonny <3

DARRY CURTIS

Darry usually keeps his hair pretty short so there’s a limited amount of things you can do with it

For clarifying purposes, Darry’s hair is short by greaser standards so it’s still kind of long, especially up front and at the back of his neck

It’s totally long enough for you to put a few small braids in, maybe a few of those goofy little ponytails-

He likes to leave your braids in his hair for as long as he can, so his brothers have called him out for having these tiny little braids in his hair 

Either way, Darry really likes having your hands in his hair, especially after a long day of hard work! He really just needs to relax

You playing with his hair is probably his favorite way to decompress, he could sit for hours and just let you toil away

 SODAPOP CURTIS

You get the chance to run your hands through those silky golden strands of his? God, I’m so jealous

Sodapop purrs like a cat whenever you play with his hair, it’s like one of his favorite things

It’s to the point where Soda will sit down in front of you and manually place your hands into his hair, he lives for physical displays of affection

Sodapop is immensely proud of whatever you do to his hair! He leaves the braids until he has to take them out and will show them off to Steve

Also? Sodapop wants to play with your hair, it’s his way of paying you back for doing his hair!

Teach him how to braid and I promise you, Sodapop will get so good at doing it because he wants you to look good-     

 PONYBOY CURTIS

Is a little hesitant at first? He sort of tenses up the first time you slide your hands through his hair

Personally, I recommend trying to do his hair when there isn’t any grease in there because we all know this boy slathers his hair in grease, grease makes pretty styles stay in place but it also is going to affect the softness of his hair

Ponyboy, upon realizing how much you like playing with his hair, starts going without grease a little more often <3

He likes the looks of braids and will sit very still when you want to braid his hair, Pony’s very patient and usually has pretty long hair

And ponytails for Ponyboy? If you don’t make that joke, you’re missing a golden opportunity 

Scratch at his scalp while your at it, give him like a mini massage and he just melts into your touch, putty in your hands while you play with his hair  

DALLAS WINSTON

Nothing, and I mean nothing, can calm Dally down faster than you having your hands in his hair

If he’s in a mood, just sort of reach and brush the hair out of his face, tucking it back behind his ears and out of the way of his eyes

Dally starts to loosen up, the tension in his shoulders slowly bleeding out until there’s no aggression left over

He’s got shorter hair? But it’s kind of tufty and usually pretty free of grease so you’ve got a few things you can do, definitely just recommend running your hands through it though- 

Leaving braids and ponytails in his hair is a big no-no, but don’t be upset when he’s taking them out! He looks so focused when he tries to undo them, it’s super cute

Plus, he’ll let you do them again later! No stress doll-face, Dally’ll be back later and you can re-do his hair then

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny’s hair is long and thick, but it’s heavily coated in grease like all the time, so you might wanna just ask him if he could like, not grease it one day-

He’s got bangs guys and if you were to work like a few tiny braids into his bangs, it’d be the cutest thing

Having your hands in his hair is really calming for Johnny? Like you don’t even have to be doing anything, you could just be mindlessly running your fingers through it

Johnnycake likes to watch you while you do his hair so expect his dark eyes to be following the movements of your fingers or trained on your face while you work

Dallas like to gently rib him for having leftover braids in his hair from you, Steve joins in sometimes, but Johnny just shrugs them off, they really don’t bother him

He makes sure to give you a gentle kiss as a way to say thank you every time you do his hair  

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

You mentioned mannequin heads and if that isn’t an accurate depiction of Two-Bit here, I don’t know what else is-

He’s got longer hair, probably one of the longest in the gang, which means you’ve got tons to work with

Your only problem will come from the fact that he tends to have a lot of grease in his hair though, it’s simple to solve, just ask him not to! He’s pretty accommodating <3

It’ll be totally easy to work that front piece into a braid or pull his hair up into some sort of pigtail-

If you involve his sister in the process, the three of you can spend hours just doing and undoing Two-Bit’s hair and fashioning it into tons of different styles 

His mom comes home to find the three of you in her living room, Two-Bit sitting cross-legged on the floor with his sister in his lap and you behind him, the two of you pulling Two-Bit’s hair up into different ponytails 

STEVE RANDLE

Steve is very protective of his hair, specifically the swirls he spends all of his time working on

They take a super long time to grease into place and he isn’t too keen on people messing them up all the time-

But when it’s you? After a long day? Just let him take a shower first baby doll, he wants all the grease out so you can do whatever you want

Run your hands through his hair, tug gently and scratch at his scalp as you comb your fingers through his hair again and again

The sides are kind of short, but the top is kind of long so you could probably fit a few braids in there or a few ponytails if you wanted <3

Steve’s fine to sit through whatever you want to do, he could fall asleep with your hands in his hair, that’s how relaxing it is for him

TIM SHEPARD

Big Bad Tim Shepard falling apart the second you push your hand through his hair, toying gently with the strands

There is not a thought behind those pretty blue eyes of his when you get your hands in his hair and start to play with it

You can put braids and little ponytails in it if you want to baby but Tim’s not going to go out with them in his hair, it’s bad enough to walk around the house with them-

That sounds really mean but I’m saying it in the sense that Curly and Angela like to tug at the braids when he leaves them in and in an effort not to kill his siblings, Tim doesn’t leave them in for long

When he’s feeling cheeky, he’ll catch your hand before you can put it through his hair and scatter a few kisses over your palm before letting you go

Tim’s got a huge thing for compliments? And I mean that both in a he-has-trouble-accepting-them way and a he-desperately-seeks-out-the-validation, so any comments about how pretty his hair is, how pretty he is, make him melt  

CURLY SHEPARD

Once more, if you’re not playing with his hair, you’re missing out on one of the best experiences of your life-

Have you seen those thick curls? The inky black of his hair and the soft way it tumbles through his fingers when he pushes it back out of his face?

My boy is absolutely gorgeous and he wants nothing more than to have your fingers combing through his hair while he does everything

I’m not even kidding, use it to encourage him, like while he’s working on homework, slowly work on braiding his curls while helping him through the math problems

Curly has fallen asleep on your chest while you’re playing with his hair, mindless running your fingers through the strands, wrapping his curls around your fingers

Tim likes to ruffle his hair a lot, something Curly hates and glares at him for while trying to fix his hair, but god if he doesn’t just melt when you do it, smiling brighter than the sun and leaning into your touch

[hxjikonn]

Congratulations for your milestone!!!!

Can i perhaps request twst platonic comfort long fic with the staff with Lilia separately perhaps saying like “i’m proud of you” and pat reader’s head please? Reader gender is GN and preferably uses with ‘you’ instead of pronouns please if its possible—

of course no pressure for this request— i just need a comfort becus daddy issues lmao but sam is more like big brother vibes

A/N: Thank you anon! I’m gonna cry this is actually so frikkin cute 🥹, I’ll do my best take on this one and I hope you like it. I do have a limit of 3-4 caharcters only so I’ll do Lilia, Crowley, Trein and Crewel ♥︎ also p.s sorry this took so long 😭🤚🏻

——————————————————————————

Peer Pressure

☆Staring☆: Lilia Vanrouge, Dire Crowley, Mozus Trein, and Divus Crewel.

Synopsis: Twst Dads Staff and Lilia, being the father figure you never had. Yes! I’m talking to boys, girls, gays and non-binary baes who has daddy issues 🥹

Heads up/Warnings: Mentions of Stress, Lil small smidge of angst, VERY LONG AND NOT PROOFREAD Platonic! rs with reader.

——————————————————————————

Lilia Vanrouge

Studying in NRC was no cake walk, that’s a given fact, and more so when you’re a magicless nomad from who knows where, as much as you’d love to just blend in with the crowd and not be noticed, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

You were treated as a weak poor unfortunate soul who fate has thrown to the wolf den to be eaten alive without a fight, You didn’t like how they perceived you, you didn’t like how you were treated as a push over who couldn’t stand a chance in this school. So you made yourself keep with everyone else despite not having a speck of magic in you.

You really are doing everything you can to be treated as an equal by everyone, but even when you’re giving it your all, it’s never enough for them to respect you, no matter how many overblots you face and how many dorm leaders and students you help, you will always amount to nothing in their eyes.

Still you tried, tried to keep your chin up, but you’re only human, and you can only take so much. You were sat in the deepest part of the school library, the ancient history section, where dust had collected on the bookshelves having been left unnoticed for so long, not a single beam of light could peek through the thick books that rested on the high shelves. No one bothered to go here, It was silent, this became the place you’d go to when you feel that you’re about to break.

Slowly, the dark and tiny enclosed space was filled with your quiet sobs and sniffles, shaky breaths and gasps were heard coming from your tiny curled up figure in the corner…you couldn’t handle it anymore, it was heavy, it hurts, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone because you felt like it’d fuel the idea of you being weak and in need of help…

Unbeknownst to you, someone other than yourself lurked in that corner of the library, and that someone had heard your soft weeping, slowly and carefully he approached your tiny figure, you were sobbing on your knees desperately trying to hold yourself together, you were too caught up on keeping quiet that you hadn’t notice Lilia sitting beside you.

“You know…it’s normal for children to cry right?” He said, loudly enough for you to hear but quietly too since he didn’t want to freak you out. You slowly met his gaze, with swollen eyes glistening with tears, you sniffled and wiped your cheek with your sleeve “I’m not a child….” You retorted, voice hoarse and weak.

“Oh but your not an adult either?” He said ruffling your hair, you didn’t like this, it felt like he also saw you like everyone else in this school, puny. You brushed off his hand, you sighed…upset, you buried your head back in your knees “I really don’t feel well right now Lilia-senpai…I wanna be left alone” You mumbled, not another word was uttered after you said that, you thought he left, so you resumed to your pitiful state of feeling sorry for yourself.

It wasn’t until you felt soft pats on your head that you settled down a bit, “When Silver wasn’t feeling well when he was little, I’d always stay by his side until he’s better…children can’t be left alone when they dont feel well, or else they wont get better” he softly spoke to you, you could only answer with sniffles and hiccups.

“M’not a child…” you answered, still hiccuping trying to catch your breath from crying to much, “If you’d known how old I am, you’d probably see yourself as a fetus…” he joked, “I’ll never be equal to you guys will I?? I’ll always be the weakest one here…no matter what I do” you voiced out, you didn’t even know if you were shaking from anger or sadness…

Lilia felt it though, your emotions, he sighed and draped his school overcoat on your shaking frame, and continued to place soft pats on your head to calm you down again, “That was quiet offensive, you don’t even know how I think of you and yet you assume that…” he scolded, “You call me a child…” you snapped back at him

“That’s because you are one and yet you act like you should be the one running NRC, I need you to understand that I’m not calling you a child because I see you as a feeble human being, I call you that to remind you that you’re still young…it’s too early for you be stressed out, that’s a middle age man’s job” He scolded you holding both your face with in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“You’ve already done so much…I’m proud of you for keeping up with everyone in NRC despite you not possessing magic, it’s amazing, even Malleus thinks so…” he added, you felt yourself calm down, more so when he pulled you into a hug, you felt safe.

“Now rest, we cant have you exiting the library with puffy eyes, people would think they were stung by bees!” He jested, chuckling at himself. “I’ll wake you up when I feel that you’ve had enough sleep…” he patted your head and hummed a tune, tired from crying, you eventually gave in and let his hums woo you to sleep.

Dire Crowley

Once again, you were called to Crowley’s office, not because you caused trouble no, you barely had the time in your day to do that. It was because somehow he probably has yet another taxing job to give you, that or he’s gonna scold you for something, what is it? Who knows? Sometimes it’s the most random things.

You knocked and waited waited for him to say you could come in…when he did, you walked in groggily, and shut the door behind you with your foot, you didn’t bother with politeness and courtesies, you were too exhausted for that, plus you knew he probably got used you’re attitude by now as you were used to his.

“What nowwwww???” You groaned, flopping on the chair infront of him. “Would it kill you to have some manners prefect?” He scolded, “Cut me some slack I’m tireeedddd” you whined in your hands. “Well I hope you being tired means you’ve done everything I told you to do, and I called you here to ask you if you’ve visited Savanaclaw-“ “to solve their flea infestation problem? Yeah It’s done. Savanaclaw is flea-free.” You cut him off, your voice monotoned and unenthusiastic.

He was surprised, “Well then, I assume you’ve also finished re-planted the flowers of wonderland in the botanical garden.” “YUP” you quickly answered. “What about the concerns of Pomfoire students about their stollen chemicals?” He crossed his arms “It wasn’t stollen, They misplaced it somewhere.” You answered again.

“Mandatory Dormitory maintenance check ups? Have you organized the School calendar events? Did you solve the Octavinelle and Scarabia feud? ” He started throwing the tasks he gave you. “Done. Done. And hmmm let me see…yup all done.” you replied as you picked on your nails. Crowley was shocked you managed to finish everything in a day, at this point he started to doubt you didn’t have magic.

“Have you….uhm….” He tried thinking of a task he hasn’t asked you about, “have you…done your homework?” He had nothing. You looked up at him with a confused look, but still answered “Yeah?” He cleared his throat and readjusts his tie “Hm…Well done then, you did well” he said.

“Can I go now? I haven’t eaten all day and Grim’s probably throwing tantrums because he hasn’t had his tuna sandwich…” you asked, he only nodded. Still kind of shock that you did every task he sent you to do. “Uh…’kay, bye I guess…” you stood up to leave, weirded out by the headmage’s sudden silence.

He only came back to his senses when he heard the door shut, and realized you’d left…you left to go home and eat cuz you haven’t eaten all day, yeah…wait… “HAVEN’T EATEN??!! ALL DAY??!” He shouted, shooting up from his chair to go chase you. His automatic Papa bird mode was up and running…literally. You thought you were safe from a scolding session, well you were wrong.

“PREFECT! Y/N! STOP RIGHT THERE!” He commanded, far across the other end of the hallway. You stopped, hearing his voice, you sighed and turned your back to see him speed walking his way over to you. “Here we go…” you said to yourself, preparing for the scolding, you didn’t know what it was about but you were preparing still.

Before you knew it he was standing infront of you, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. “What did I miss this time?” You asked, “Apparently Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner” he answered. You blinked a couple of times, confused and dumbfounded. “Huh?” Was all that came put of your mouth.

“I can’t believe you! How could you not eat for a whole day?! Are you mad?! Have you gone koo-koo over the tasks I gave you?! You could get sick!” He scolded, you thought he was joking, so you laughed “Oh I get it…Don’t worry I won’t die, you won’t lose your errand runner” you joked. Wrong move.

The expression on his face was something you hadn’t seen before, usually you’re not at all fazed by Crowley, however this time you felt your stomach drop, but not to fear, it was something else. “Errand Runner….? Is that why you forgot to eat?…Is that how I make you feel…?” He spoke, uncharacteristically sad…

“Uh n-no, I was…I was just joking…” you denied smiling up at him, though you did feel like an errand runner most of the time, it was clear that Crowley didn’t know you felt that way. Silence was all that was heard between you two. Crowley was only looking at you, “Uhm…I should…go” you spoke, breaking the noiseless awkward situation.

You bowed and turned to your heel and left. For the rest of the night, all that filled Crowley’s mind was worry…You went to school the next morning, the happenings from yesterday was now long gone and done for you, it was weird and awkward sure, but you didn’t think it was that deep.

However it wasn’t for Crowley. As you were listening to Trein’s lecture, Crowley decided to pop in your class. “Is Y/n present?” He asked, poking his head through the door, “Y/n, The headmage is looking for you.” Trein spoke, unbothered, still writing on the board.

You looked up from your notebook to see Crowley by the door, this was unusual, since he only called for you when you dong have class. But you thought it must’ve been urgent. So you stood up and went to him. “Something wrong?” You asked, he smiled and shook his head, “Oh no, I just came by to give you this.” He handed you a lunch box, you looked up at him confused “wha-“ you were cut off with a headpat “Go back to your seat now, make sure to finish all that food, after class though, dont eat in class.” He said pushing you back so you’d go to your seat. “Sharing is good but Dont share that. You eat it.” He warned before waving you goodbye as he closes the door and leaves.

You were now left with a lunch box in your hand, you looked down and there was a sticky note on top of it that read “Do your best in class! I’m proud of you!” With a crow doodle on the bottom…you smiled at the note and went back to your seat. Guess you wont be missing meals anymore.

Mozus Trein

Exam week. Probably the worst week in a student’s entire school year. Most even called it Hell week due to how dreadful and stressful it is. What’s worse is that you’ve been transported in a school that is in a world where you knew absolutely nothing about.

So everything you’ve learned from your homeworld, is USELESS here. Especially history. Back in home exams about history usually only contained questions about previous presidents, wars, kingdoms, ruler, and dates but here their history included magic. Which you don’t have and have Zero to No knowledge of.

You’ve concluded in your mind that you’d probably be butchered and served for lunch after you take this test because there’s no way you’re going to pass it. But what’s the harm in trying? Right? You spent hours and hours after every test everyday before the history exam in the library. Under a piles and stacks of books about twisted wonderland’s history. You felt yourself get lightheaded a couple of times but you shook it off.

Then came doomsday. You were sat in your usual seat, sweating bullets, leg bouncing from anxiety, the test wasn’t even handed out yet but your lips were practically chewing gum at this point since you’ve been gnawing on them for the past 5 minutes.

When the test was handed out, you tried your best not to accidentally have a mental shut down and forget everything you’ve studied for. You were already nervous from the questions, more so when Trein started walking around and observing everyone as they take their test.

Out of everyone, you had to admit, Mozus Trein, was the most intimidating teacher you had. Failing his class was an equivalent to a coffin and funeral party. So you tried your best to keep calm and focus on the questions. You didn’t rush it like some of the others, it didn’t matter if you were the last one in his class as long as your confident you’d pass.

You skimmed through every question time after time making sure you had the best answer. “Y/n. I said Time’s up. Hand in your paper or I won’t accept it.” Trein’s voice broke your trance, and there it was again, the anxiety, you weren’t done, you weren’t confident that you’d get a passing grade yet. But him staring you down made you hand give up the paper faster than lightning.

“Sorry, sir.” You meekly spoke. He took your paper and shortly after he dismissed the class. You couldn’t even sleep that night, and the night after, and the next night after that. It was that big of a deal. Came the end of Hell week Exam week it was time for the teachers to hand back the now graded test papers.

And lucky you, Your first class of the day was Trein’s. You went in with bags under your eyes from all the sleepless nights and the countless hours studying in the library. You hoped for the worst, that way you wont be disappointed when it does happen. Once the classroom was filled, Trein greeted you all like usual, “I’m sure everyone is well aware of what day it is, and I’m neither disappointed nor surprised by the result of last week’s exam, as I expected this already. Needles to say I’ll be seeing MOST of you again in the same class next year.” He stated, mercilessly, It was like venom. He went around the class handing the test papers one by one.

You gulped hearing what he just said as you waited for him to hand you yours, part of you told yourself you’re one of those people. What’s worse is that, he only placed the other students their paper on their table and left, so why is he HANDING you yours???You gulped as you took the paper from his hand, the test paper was faced down. Still standing there even though you had already took it. You thought of your funeral party already.

You flipped the paper with shaky hands…you couldn’t believe your eyes…it was a perfect score…you looked up at your teacher in shock “I think you mixed up my paper with someone else’s sir…” you said, only earning a small laugh from him. He placed his index finger on top of your test paper “that is your name? Is it not?” He asked, it infact YOUR NAME.

You left your jaw hung open as you stared at the paper infornt of you, your shocked state was broken when he pated your head “Very good Y/n, Surprisingly the one who isn’t from twisted wonderland is the one who scored the highest in my class, I’m very proud of you for that. Keep it up” he praised as he walks back to his desk.

You felt yourself smiling happily. You passed. YOU SCORED HIGHEST. You looked up at Trein who was now infront of the class writing in the board about the next lecture he was about to discuss and you hurriedly took out your notebook to write down notes. Soon the class you oh so feared to fail now became your favorite class to attend.

Divus Crewel

You had no magic, no knowledge of it, and you don’t even know how to use it. Magic was already a hassle to learn, and you already progressed slower than most of the students in your class. Not in potionology though. This was wayyy easier to catch up with.

You see potionology class like what you used to do as a child, when you’d mix shampoos and soaps and tooth paste and pretend to be a witch in the bathroom. You liked this class since it was fun and you didn’t struggle that much with it. You cant say you’re that best student, that would be exaggeration. But you were one of the students who does better than everyone else.

Up coming this week was pop quiz Friday, usual pop quizzes included answering a sheet of paper, however in potionology, Crewel thought it’d be nice to put the pop in “pop quiz” to good use. The task was that you’d try to perfect a potion that pops when you threw it, the bigger the “pop” your potion made, the higher your score would be.

So ahead of time, you started doing research and tests on your potion, you sometimes went to Pomefoire or Heartslabyul to ask Rook or Trey for advice since they’re both in the school Science Club. You’d go to the library to borrow books about explosives, you’d go shopping for a concerning amount of flammable chemicals and other stuff in Sam’s shop. To the point where Sam actually made a promise to himself to call Crowley if you came back again.

After all that you’d go back to Ramshackle to test more stuff out. It took a lot of sleepless nights and failed attempts, you didn’t give up though, plus you and grim (and sometimes even Malleus) were having fun in the back yard of Ramshackle blowing stuff up. If you had neighbors they probably would’ve moved out by now

One day you finally had one you were confident had a passing grade. Probably not the best one out there but one that can get you a high score.You wrote down the recipe so you could remake it in the lab when Friday came, you’re more than excited to see this experiment of your blow their minds, not literally but kinda literally.

Then came Friday, the day you’ve been waiting for. You were nervous, happy and the anticipation was killing you. When greetings were exchanged the “pop quiz” began. Everyone was focused on their own potions, and so were you. Holding in your hand was the recipe and your other was carefully dripping and dropping chemicals on to beakers and test tubesz

You didn’t want the whole room to blow up…yet. As you hear some students groan out of frustration or sigh in relief, you grew more and more competitive. When the timer rang, you were already finished, everyone had their bottles clutched in their hands in fear of them accidentally dropping it and causing mass destruction.

“Alright pups, line up, we cant risk causing accidental arson, we’re going out on the field to test your potions.” Crewel said to the class, one by one your classmates start to line up. Careful not to trip as the walked. When you were all outside, and in a safe distance from the school building, Crewel had you all stand behind a magic barrier so no one would get hurt.

One by one students started to throw their potions, explosion after explosion, some disappointingly small and some scarily big. You were thrilled, you couldn’t wait for your turn. When your name got called you confidently strode infront to throw your potion. As you were about to Crewel lightly smacked your head with his teaching pointer. “Goggles Y/n, your goggles.” He warned. You muttered a tiny ‘oops’ and put on your goggles.

“Alright, on my count…” Crewel said, as he counted down to 3, when you heard three you threw it hard as you could and….nothing. You were shocked…embarrassed as you heard the chuckles and laughs from behind you. You were positive you tested this before and it worked, you must’ve done something wrong. How could you fail the one class you actually enjoyed.

Your cheeks grew hot when you heard small teasings from your classmates, Crewel reprimanded them but you knew even he was embarrassed and disappointed by this miserable failed attempt. You had failed him. As you were all about to walk back to the lab, small sparking noises were heard from where you had thrown the potion.

You all looked back and so did Crewel, he put up the magic barrier once again, the small sparks turned into big once, then…unexpectedly, the big sparks exploded scattering itself throughout the field…then there was silence. Not like the last time though, the silence this time was more like the calm before a storm. Crewel knew this, so he had the magic barrier expanded to cover all around you guys.

Suddenly explosions emerged, not just one, but multiple, more than you could count, it was loud and destructive and chaotic, everyone was panicking. When it finally stopped, the school grounds looked like a battle field. You thought this meant detention until you graduate, but then you heard Crewel laugh and clap his hands.

He went to you and ruffled you hair “GREAT JOB Y/N! THAT WAS OUTSTANDING!” He praised as he clasps his hands together. The other students…well most of them at least also had clapped their hands and applauded your work. No words was said but it seemed that Crewel had already adopted and favored a pup in his class after that day.

——————————————————————————

A/N: I’M BAAAACKKKK WRITERS BLOCK IS GONEEEE I’M GONNA START POSTING AGAIN AAAAAA SORRY FOR MAKING YOU GUYS WAIT SO LONG 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[webslingingslasher]

taylor swift song request lesgooo!!! end game from reputation where y/n has a really big reputation as a 'bad girl' and peter (good boy loml) ends up tutoring her, and sees she isn't all bad...

first off, i am so sorry this took so long, you may not even be on my page anymore, but this struck something in me & i couldn't stop.

second, i switched up the request a little because if you listen to the song, (in a non snooty way lmao) taylor is the one expressing she wants to be with this person but she has a bad repuation and everyone's heard about it, and it's a lot to commit to because of the talk surrounding her.

---------

Everyone had it wrong. 

You were good. And kind. And smart. And talented. And confused. And lost. And just like every other kid in the school. You were good. You stayed to yourself. You didn’t gossip. You didn’t judge. You didn’t tattle. You were good. 

So why did everyone hate you so much? 

It was your brother’s fault. His reputation preceded yours and it ruined everything for you. 

He was the one that picked fights. 

He was the one that pushed teachers to the limits. 

He’s the one that sold dope from his locker. 

He’s the one that hooked up with a girl in the teacher's lounge. 

And the third floor bathroom. 

And the girls locker room.

And underneath the bleachers.

He’s the one that made everyone think you were just alike. 

It ruined everything about high school so far. 

Jokes, rumors, lost friendships, people refusing to date you. 

It was childish and unfair. You wanted one person on your side, the one person you watched in class, the one person that was nice to you in a school of jekyll’s. And you couldn’t have him. 

“Hey, still coming later?” 

Peter Parker had a smile that could make the devil buckle. He was sugar, spice and everything nice. Long time crush, but the part where you’ve been smeared into a good for nothing whore, made nothing possible. 

“You sure you still wanna do this? I don’t mind asking Mrs. Stu-” 

Peter called your name like you were telling a joke, “it’s my honor to tutor you! Don’t blow me off.” 

You want to protect him. You like him too much. He hangs around you long enough and accusations with his name start flying around with yours. 

“If you’re so desperate,” grinning brightly, “I’ll see you later.” 

Peter was so kind to tutor you. Your teacher asked on your behalf, she said she thought you’d be a good pair and you couldn’t deny the extra help, too bad Peter had to be the one on the chopping block. He was being a good samaritan and you knew what it would cause for him, even with the alone time you’ve been craving, you’d keep him pushed away at all costs. 

You didn’t want the fallout to burn him, you’re used to the sting and he’s someone that shouldn’t feel anything but a loving touch. 

Even if it would kill you, you’d have to pretend to be disinterested in Peter Parker and watch him walk away. 

Oh, the things you do for love.

—------------

You’ve never felt so paranoid in your life. You swore everyone was looking at you, or maybe they were looking at Peter. Telling themselves it seemed fit that a nerd would be trying his shot with the school whore, because it’s not like you’d say no. 

“Hi, can I sit?” Peter pointed at the patch of grass next to you, your eyes squinted as you looked up at him, it was hard reading his expression. You were the shade but he was standing under the sun, everything was washed out and too bright. 

“Um, here?” you pointed at the same spot, taking a chance to look around, you felt eyes all over you. “Yeah, I mean, unless you want me here?” He pointed at a patch on the other side of you, “or here,” gesturing next to your feet, “you know what? You choose, I’m the guest.” 

He’s so nice. Gentle, even. You hadn’t experienced someone so kind, so golden hearted, in a minute. His kindness shouldn’t be his weakness or his downfall. With one last scope of the scene you assume he could stay for a moment, at least you could figure out where to meet later. 

You give Peter a smile and pat the first spot he pointed out, “you can sit,” answering his original question. His backpack hit the ground first, jimming himself closer to the tree behind you to rest his back on. Peter’s fingers picked pieces of grass, you assume in boredom. 

“So,” you both speak at the same time, a soft exhaling laugh at the symmetry. You wave Peter along, the sooner he gets it out the sooner he can leave, the quicker he is with you the less he’ll be attacked. 

“Wanna meet at the library?” 

And have everyone see? Have his reputation smeared like your own? There’s a reason you don’t have many people around you, you can’t believe he doesn’t see it.

“No,” he’s taken a bit back by your blunt tone. Peter hums low, “your place?” 

You scoff, “absolutely not.” 

There’s no other option then, “alright, my place it is. Wanna come with me after school? We could take the bus, unless you prefer the subway.” 

God, there’s nothing in the world you want more. It was too dangerous, if you got close enough it’d be too hard to rip it away. If you were seen leaving school with him, going to his house with him, it’d be over for him. You would give him the mark of cain. 

It hurts more than you’d like to admit, you take your turn at plucking small weeds, avoiding his face. He’s hard to say no to. 

“I can’t. But, I’ll come over tonight.” 

You hate how happy he sounded when he answered, it was so unfair. You were a good kid, your brother was the bad one, but you dealt with all the repercussions. Your heart felt so weighed down, you wanted nothing more to reach out and hold Peter’s hand. 

You wanted a boyfriend. 

You wanted a friend. 

You wanted love. 

You wanted to feel accepted and heard and validated and supported by one person. 

But you couldn’t have him. 

“Cool. Wanna give me your number?” It’d be better than talking in person, easier to keep him away from you unless absolutely necessary. You nod, finally looking at him when you hand over your phone, he’s got a giant smile and you have to look back down at a patch of weeds with a single dandelion poking from it. 

“Yours?” 

Peter’s fingers brush yours when he hands his over, a warm jolt spreads down your wrist and into your elbow. It makes you feel alive, it’s a welcomed feeling. You try to forget it immediately. 

His screen is cracked and scratchy as you type your number in, feeling him watch over your face you scan the crowd of people. You swear you see someone pointing, you shove his phone back in his hand, scrambling to stand. 

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way, I have to go.” 

He’s not allowed to care this much. It’s unfair. 

“You don’t want to have lunch with me? I have half a sandwich if you want it, I know we only have like, ten minutes left but if you want it, it’s yours.” 

‘If you want it, it’s yours.’

Does he mean it? Is there a limit to what could be yours? 

Too bad you’ll never know. 

“Thank you, but I can’t.” He almost looks disappointed, you have to stop making things up. 

“You sure? I don’t mind sharing with you.” 

You do. He can’t suffer the same consequences you do, it’s too isolating. Lonely. You were lonely. He doesn’t deserve it. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll see you later, Peter.” 

Peter takes his time unwrapping his homemade sandwich from cellophane, he takes a bite from half and moans, outstretching his hand with the other half, still wrapped up. “Here, take it to go. My aunt made it, if you try hard enough you can taste the love.” 

He’s god damn irresistible. 

You take his gift, slowly backing away, “thanks, I’ll search for it.” 

Peter’s smile hurts your eyes, “good, it isn’t hard to find.” He’s adorable, even when he’s wrong. 

It must be his superpower. 

—-------------------

Peter’s aunt was two things. 

A lot, and very kind. 

You can see where Peter gets his aggressive pleasantry from, the moment she opened the door she was eager to please you. May wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, her voice cheery in your ear.

“Oh my goodness, it is so nice to put a face to the name.” 

Politely patting her back you swallow thickly, she’s heard all about you and your make believe history. She’s kind but you know in the back of her mind she’s hoping you’d leave her nephew alone, get what you need from him and leave. 

“Nice meeting you too, you make a killer sandwich, by the way.” 

She gasps, pushing you away by your shoulders, moving her head to catch her eyes. An unfamiliar smile crosses her face, you don’t know what it means but it feels as welcoming and radiant as Peter’s. 

“Oh, good! He shared.” 

May said it like it was planned, like she could tell you were confused she broke your attention away. “I made cookies, because everyone knows you need sugar to help you focus.” A wink, she was so gentle, it’s something about those Parker’s. 

You play along, it’s nice to be welcomed for once. Even if it’s until you’re gone, the moment she tells Peter she knows all about you and to keep his distance. 

“I think I read a story on that once, nine out of ten dentists agree, right?” 

And just for a moment you let yourself dream, floating on your imaginary high of Peter Parker when his aunt laughs at your joke, her smile slowly dimming while she looks at your face, deep in thought. A confident head nod. 

“Peter was right about you.” 

You should take it negatively, but you don’t. There’s something about her that tells you she only means well. It must mean she hasn’t heard the bad things, but once she does, she’d be eating her words. 

But damn, if you aren’t curious about what Peter said. Was he nice, did he hint at a crush, did he make his aunt believe you were someone you’re not? 

“Peter was right about what?” 

The devil himself appeared from nowhere, his body standing next to yours, so closely you can feel hints of his cotton zip up hoodie brushing your arms. You closed your eyes to breathe slowly, the sight of him with his hands flat on the kitchen counter, leaning his weight into the laminate, his hoodie strings dangling in a tempting way. 

In a way you want to pull him closer by them, curling the fabric around your fingers and tugging him until his mouth is on yours. 

You’re easy to read, you can see it on May’s face the second you open your eyes. You know in an instant she knows that you like her nephew. Even more surprisingly, she looks excited with the knowledge. 

Her eyes flicker back to her nephew, “how lovely you said our guest was, what else did you say?” 

You can see Peter freeze, “May,” it’s a warning tone. His aunt bulldozes, “wasn’t it something about how pr-” You don’t know what she says, Peter speaks over her. “May!” Jumping in your spot, caught off guard by his sudden tone and volume change, Peter moves a hand to your arm, “sorry,” it was delicate, it was him saying he was only sorry towards you, sorry for catching you off guard. 

Fighting past his numbing touch, you smile, “it’s okay, I didn’t know you could be so stern.” 

You need to see a therapist, because you swear you shared a moment. “Only when it’s something I’m passionate about.” 

He’s talking about you, he has to be. You want him to be. 

You have no idea how you’ll keep yourself from tying to him. But you’ll give it a fighting chance. 

“You know what I’m passionate about?” Peter shakes his head, it’s hard to look away from his eyes, you never knew brown eyes could be so pretty. But you do, attention directed to fresh made chocolate chip cookies. 

“Cookies.” 

Peter won’t let you off that easy, “what kind?” 

You bounce different flavors over in your head, “you’re opening pandora's box, parker. I mean, are we talking grocery store, homemade, or bakery?” 

His arms crossed over his chest, “well, now I need to know every answer.” 

You blow out a breath like you’re about to compete in the olympics, “alright, off the shelf grocery, you can’t go wrong with double stuffed oreos. But, personally, those keebler elves, with the fudge? I love em, my mom stopped buying them cause I’d eat half the pack in one sitting, so now my dad sneaks them to me. But, I mean, you can’t go wrong with those little bakery sugar cookies, you know, the ones that stick to the roof of your mouth?” 

Peter bites back a grin, you weren’t lying, you really were passionate. 

“I know what ones you’re talking about, they’re gross.” It’s the most offensive thing he could say to you. “You’re wrong, but okay.” He laughs, “opinions can’t be wrong,” you pull your head back, “they absolutely can, yours is proof.” 

You look for support from his aunt but she’s long gone, you didn’t even see her back away. 

Peter rolls his hand, amping you on, “homemade?” 

You spit the answer quickly, “butterscotch oatmeal.” He’s never heard of them, or tasted them, but if you love them, he thinks he would too. “You’ll have to bring me some to try, they sound tempting.” Agreeing with him, “you’d never go back.” 

“Bakery?” 

“That’s the tricky one, it’s a rare find, not every place has them. But it’s my all time favorite flavor of anything ever made, s’mores.” 

Peter loves it, your favorite treat was s’mores and it fit you. 

His personal mission was tracking one down and bringing it to you. 

“S’mores? Really?” 

You nod, “really, really. If you find one you’ll have to try it, unless you have another wrong opinion and don’t like s’mores.” 

“Nah, I love s’mores.” 

Peter Parker was too good of a person to bring down. You need to shut down your admiration, because his alienation would hurt the most. 

—---------------------

This wasn’t good. No, this was bad. This was really bad. 

Peter Parker just called open season on himself and it was all your fault. 

You should’ve refused for him to be your tutor, that was the mistake. The moment it was agreed upon it was over. You should’ve never gone over to his house, if you hadn't then you would’ve never told him about your favorite cookie, and he wouldn’t have gotten you one. 

It happened in third period, he approached your seat and set a small white box in front of you. Your eyes flickered from the box to him several times before you asked, “what’s this?” A gift, you knew that much, he’s given you a gift and Jeffery Stewart was watching it go down. Peter would have an hour until he was tied to you. 

“Open it,” slowly opening the cardboard your heart skips three beats, once for each cookie. You’ve never felt so seen, dare you even say loved? He listened, that’s what it was. He listened to you and he tracked them down and presented them to you, he was proud. 

Peter Parker has made everything about your current life harder. 

“Oh my god, where did you find these?” 

He shakes his head, like it doesn’t matter where he sourced them, what matters is that he did. 

“You were right, they’re hard to track down, it took me three days. Surprisingly, they’re mostly seasonal.” 

You tsk, contemplating tearing one in half right now. “It’s so wrong, isn’t it? I mean, you can buy s’mores stuff all year long, so it doesn’t make sense.” Fuck it, it’s selfish, but he went above and beyond. 

Splitting a cookie, you hand half over, cheersing yours with his. You throw your head back and hum the second you bite down, they’re the best ones you’ve ever had. You weren’t sure if it was because they were that good, or because it felt like they were purchased with care. 

“Holy shit, Peter. These are unearthly.”

He’s in the same boat, he can understand why they’re your favorite now. 

Nodding excessively, “my world has changed for the better.” 

“Yeah, mine too.” It was a slip, you didn’t mean to say it. It came out without thinking, you said it sincerely, and he knows it. Peter finished the rest of his cookie and licked his thumb, “good, I’m glad to hear it.” 

This was bad. This was very bad. 

Because Peter Parker lays his hand on your desk and leans in, really closely, it makes you stop functioning all together. He needs to leave, he needs to back away, he needs to leave you alone. He doesn’t know what he's doing to himself, but you’re too selfish to stop it. 

Even with Jeffery Stewart staring you down like a dog in heat, a wicked grin spreads while he ropes over the many rumors he’s about to flood the halls with. 

“Wanna come over tonight?” 

Lost in a world of a million thoughts, all of them being about the distance from his lips to yours. Blinking back to attention you groan, “I don’t really feel like studying tonight, my brain is mush.” 

Peter nods, then moves in, just an inch closer, you feel like you’re about to die. 

“Not what I asked.” 

“I don’t-” 

“I asked if you wanted to come over, not if you wanted to study.” 

The room is spinning, everything is a blur. He’s flirting, Peter Parker is flirting with you in front of an audience. He’s fearless, it’s impressive. There’s no way he doesn’t know about your reputation, the things people say about you, the things you do. 

Suddenly, a chill creeps up your spine. What if he knows exactly what people say, what if that’s why he’s being sweet, what if that’s why he’s acting like he cares? Fuck it, you’ll call him out on his bullshit, but privately, you don’t need any extra attention. 

“Sure. Same time?” 

“Same time,” it’s set in stone when the bell rings, Peter knocks his knuckles on your desk before he walks away. It’s unfair how much you hate to see him pull away from you.

—------------------

The upside to being cynical is that when things don’t work out, like you plan, you’re not that hurt, because you called it the whole time. 

Just like Peter, you knew the second it circled back to him he’d be gone. It proved to be true when you heard mumbles by your locker, eyes flicking to you and back, quicker whispers shared. 

From what you’ve gathered, either Peter has seen your nipple piercings or he’s given you nipple piercings. Not that you had them, but that didn’t matter. What now mattered was that Peter was directly tied to you and your boobs were involved, that’s enough alone for him to get a clap on the back while you’re being shamed for even acknowledging your body autonomy. 

What a lame rumor, Jeffery Stewart could’ve gone to the moon with theories but this was the one he settled on? Usually he was a bit more creative, his last one ended up with you and the guidance counselor in the principal's office informing you that it was a safe space, and that if the school’s janitor came onto you it wasn’t your fault. 

It took three weeks for people to totally forget it, but those few weeks you’d hear claps and wolf whistles when you passed by the janitor's closet made you feel like you were on the constant verge of vomiting. 

Usually it wouldn’t bother you, but once they involved Peter’s name you felt sick. Everything you feared itching to life, and right when you heard a third possibility you couldn’t stay silent, slamming your locker door shut and giving wild eyes to the girl talking to her friend on your right. 

“Which one is it, Lindsey? Was he holding my hand while I got them done, did he see them, or did he do them? I don’t know about you, but if I heard three totally different versions of a story I’d question the authenticity of the claim.” 

It didn’t matter who was watching, you couldn’t hold it in.

You felt like you were on fire, you could see her sputter, like she didn’t expect you to call her out. You felt like the walls were closing in on you, she didn’t start the rumor but she was helping it spread and she was the closest person you could explode on. 

“C’mon, Lindsey. Which one? I want to hear your side, unless you think it went down a totally different way. What? Scared to talk?” 

Your throat’s closing, you can’t stop, you step closer, you shout at her. 

“Which one, Lindsey!” The hall was dead silent, for the first time you had no cares about who was looking. 

Her shoes squeak as she backs up, her eyes wide and blinking, a flash of terror, it makes you want to squeeze her and shake her, try to get her to understand this was what it felt like to be you.

“Fucking answer me!” Your voice cracked, she whimpered, fat tears falling. 

“None! I don’t believe any of them!” 

She doesn’t. You can see it written all over her face, she was just talking to talk, knowing you could hear every word she produced. It just made you feel sad. 

“You can hunt other women as much as you want, Lindsey. But the collusion doesn’t save you from the same hunt.” 

Lindsey nods, like she understands. But you know she doesn’t, you know she’ll keep being the same, until they turn on her, and then she’ll wonder why no one stands up for her and how anyone could believe the jargon they say about her. And on that day, you’d be nodding with the crowd. 

—-------------

If Peter told his aunt about today she had an excellent poker face. Because she was more than happy seeing you when she opened the door, hugging you close before she could even shut it.

“Hi, sweetheart! How are you doing?” Politely hugging back, you talk back in her ear. “Hi, Ms. Parker, I’m good, how are you?” A squeeze before you’re released, her hands warm on your shoulders. 

“Oh, please, just call me May. Did Peter give you the cookies?” 

You nod while biting back a grin, she might have a clue for how you feel about her nephew but you’re not announcing it either. “Good,” she’s got something in her that makes you feel like she’s more of a wingwoman than aunt. 

“Peter’s in his room, I won’t be back until late, are you sleeping over?” 

You feel off balance for a second. May’s leaving you and Peter alone, for several hours, and then suggests you’ll be spending the night. She really is a wingwoman. It makes you second guess everything Peter might have told her, it’s clear she can see your mental gymnastics when she pats your arm. 

“He said you guys are gonna hang out, maybe watch some movies. I just meant, will I be surprised if I come home to you two cuddled up somewhere.” 

Is she saying not to fuck in the common areas?

“Are you saying-” 

“Keep it in his room.” 

Mortified. She must assume the worst out of you, you’ve only met her twice and her thought was that the second you were alone you’d be fuck bunnies. To be fair, Peter is really attractive. She can tell how embarrassed she’d made you and she’s quick to jump over it. 

“No accusations and no shaming. I’d just rather be clear to both of you. Peter had a worse conversation, be glad.” 

You take that as her permission, and that she likes you. She has to, she just implied she’d be cool if you and Peter hooked up. Even if the world hated you, having her approval made you feel like you had someone to impress again. 

“Okay, I understand and accept the rules and boundaries of your home.” 

May laughs, hooking her purse over her shoulder she pats your arm again. “You’re a good kid, don’t forget that.” 

And that made you want to curl up and cry, you haven’t had unprompted support like that in years. It worked, because you’d never, not once, cross any boundary of her’s. In fact, after that? You’d die protecting hers. 

“Thanks, May. See you later.” 

A wink, “See you later, honey.” 

You took a second to breathe, and look over yourself in the mirror before approaching Peter’s door. Knocking for a second and opening it when he answered, he spun one eighty in his desk chair, a blur of blue plaid until he settled. 

Before he had a chance to speak you did, “did your aunt give us permission to have sex, or am I tripping?” 

Peter’s grin dimmed, he looked to his closet doors while his cheeks tinged pink. “I promise you, whatever she said to you, is nowhere near as bad as my talk.” 

“She mentioned that, was it all about the ins and outs of pleasuring a woman?” 

Peter’s avoiding eye contact, you came here to tell him he should keep his space but watching him shrink under your questions made you feel powerful. Each blush he gives makes you want to dig in further. 

He more or less shrugs, it’s a damn bold line, you don’t even know what you're saying until it comes out in full. 

“Tell me, Parker, could you please me?” 

Seconds tick, you can hear it on his clock, finally he looks at your face. Any trace of a blush fallen, it makes you feel choked. 

“I’m not sure, but I’d love to find out.” 

Panic. He’s not supposed to say that, he’s supposed to back down. You’re supposed to back him down.

Peter can’t go down this road and it’s your job to block his path, but you can’t stop yourself from moving out of his way. 

“I mean, since you already know about the nipple piercings…” you trail your words, expecting a sneer. Instead he laughs, a full on body laugh, it makes you smile, just the pure happiness radiating from him. 

For once a rumor is just something you can laugh about. 

“Psh, of course I knew about them. I mean, isn’t that the third time you’ve had them?” 

It was. You didn’t realize it but that was the third time the rumor was reused. You didn’t notice but he did, did he notice all the other ones too? All the ones that stated how bad you were? Did it even matter if he believed them, you didn’t think so, at least not at this point, you just didn’t want him to suffer the same fate. 

Peter pats the top of his bed, “take a seat,” your stomach lurches, the thought of being in his bed enough to ignite you in flames. His aunt said keep it in his room and he’s luring you right in, your palms feel like they’re sweating. If he heard all the rumors about you sleeping around and thought you were like that, he was about to be disappointed. 

Holding your eyes shut and squeezing fists you rush the words out, the quicker said the quicker this would be over. 

“I’m a virgin!” 

Instead, he looked utterly confused, looking around his room like he was trying to figure out where the explosion came from. Settling on a low release of words, his eyebrows furrowed in, “so am I?” 

Just to be clear, “I’m not looking to change that tonight, so if that’s why you wanted-” 

“No!” Peter almost slips on the floor he stands so quick, “that’s not at all why I wanted, I just thought…” He doesn’t know how to say it, he almost said he thought you needed a friend, but that could be offensive, or worse, he’d be friendzoning himself for you. 

“Thought what, I’d be an easy piece? Cause I know you’ve hea-” 

“I asked Mrs. Sturgis if I could tutor you!” 

You stop talking, his words looping in your brain. That doesn’t make sense, because if he did ask then that means he wanted to tutor you, that means there was a deeper meaning, that means when his aunt said he talked about you it went further than what was said at school. 

“Please,” he pleaded your name, “come sit? Just for a second.” 

You follow his command and sit on the edge of his bed, watching Peter pace as he combs his hands through his hair. He’s nervous. 

“I don’t know how to talk to you, my brain is just… you make me really nervous.” 

“Why did you ask to tutor me?” 

Peter stops moving to look at you, it was easier to answer when you asked. 

“So I could talk to you.” 

It’s a start, “why?” 

“I just wanted you to trust me. I hear what everyone says, and I don’t believe a word of it, but I didn’t want you to think I was asking for the wrong reasons, or making a joke out of you.” 

Your face scrunches, “you thought, I’d think, that you asking to tutor me, directly, would be a joke?” 

Peter shakes his head, sitting back in his chair and taking a second to answer you. 

“No, I think if I asked you out on a date you’d think it was a joke.” 

You laugh, “well, yeah… It’s not like you…” 

Except he does, and you can see it all over his face. He really, really does. With the new knowledge you don’t know how to act, suddenly aware Peter Parker sees you in a different light. He doesn’t see you as his student, he sees you as a potential mate. 

You only know fight or flight, and your flight option was crawling further up his bed, backing away until your back hit the wall, a dull thump produced. You give a barely audible, “ow,” your brain racing with thoughts, trying to catch up with his admittance. 

“You okay?” 

You’re thankful he can’t see you, the top bunk perfectly cutting your head from his viewpoint. 

“Peachy,” you can barely speak. 

“Cool, cause it seemed like you kinda freaked when I implied I wanted to ask you out.” 

You nibble on your thumbnail, “implied or asking?” 

“I’d rather ask when I can see you.” 

How is he so calm, he was the one that was just pacing the floor talking about how nervous he was. Now he’s a smooth talker.

“Is that why you asked to tutor me? So you could ask me out?” 

“Maybe, but you also need a tutor.” 

Rude. Fair, but rude. 

“So, you like me?” 

You wish you could see the smile he has, you know he has one, you can hear it in his laugh. 

“What would give you that impression?” 

You shrug, but he can’t see. “I don’t know, you’re not nervous anymore.” 

“I don’t have to be, the girl I like likes me too.” 

You gasp, you’ve said no such thing! There was absolutely nothing to base his accusation off of. You mock his words. 

“What would give you that impression?” 

Another laugh, you wish you could see that laugh. But once you emerge it’s over, it means he’s signed his life away to be with you. An act of selflessness you didn’t know was possible. 

“Look at yourself, you’re hiding cause you’re petrified to be asked out.” 

“No, I’m not. I’m protecting you, cause if you don’t ask, you won’t be ridiculed.” 

You imagine he looks offended, because he sounds it. 

“Do you think I give a shit what anyone thinks?”

“It’s isolating, Peter. I’d feel like I’d bring you down, and you don’t deserve that.” You take a breath, “you’re very kind, and I really like that.” 

“You’re kind too, and smart, and really, very, pretty. And I think once you have a boyfriend and a friend group, things won’t be so bad and everyone will forget why they teased you.” 

You hum, playing with your nails and chewing at your bottom lip, silence took over. It was a rush of a lot of emotions, you’re shocked and excited. You’re also panicked and jittery. It was everything you feared and wished for at once. 

Peter Parker is asking to be in your life, no matter the cost. 

That’s the bravest thing you’ve ever witnessed. 

Clearing your throat, “who would be my boyfriend?” 

Peter pretended to think about it, “you could have whoever you want.” 

“Anything you want, it’s yours.” An immediate flashback to the first day he sat with you, you mumbled out the words and scooted, just an inch, from the wall. 

“What was that?” 

You announce it, moving forward another inch, “anything you want, it’s yours. You said that at lunch the first day you sat with me, do you still mean it?” 

There’s just something you’ve been dying to do, something you’ve been wanting to do. And he said whatever you wanted. 

“Whatever you want, I mean it.” He sounds sincere too, you move forward a few inches. 

“Have you kissed anyone before?” 

Peter doesn’t understand the correlation but he’ll entertain it. “Yes?” 

You offer up more information, hoping he’d catch the hint. “I haven’t.” 

He doesn’t. “That’s no biggie, I think over half the school-” 

You speak over him, “but, I want to.” 

It takes Peter a second to register it, and when he does he almost collapses. 

“Oh. I see. Um, want me to come in there, or you come out here?” 

Your heart races, he’s so willing to do whatever with no qualms, you just asked and he’s delivering. You were about to have your first kiss with your number one crush, and he liked you too. 

“Wait, you’re gonna do it?” You’ve never been so excited. Or anxious. Were these the butterflies people talk about? 

“I’m sorry, did I read that wrong?” 

“No, you’re just… right now?” You think you’ll puke all over him, that’s why you’re stalling. 

You can see Peter drum his fingers over his pants, “do you wanna hold off for a second? I’ll do it whenever you want.” 

Your heart clenches, “Peter,” you groan out his name, “stop being so nice, it hurts.” Waiting a moment before continuing, “I’m gonna suck, and you won’t like me anymore.” 

God, you wish you could see the cocky grin smear, you can hear it, but you want to face him more than anything. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. He knows you can’t stay hidden forever. 

“Wanna bet?” 

Why not? If you really think about the last year and change of high school, what else would you really have to lose? 

Plus, he was really cute. 

Overwhelmed with the knowledge of knowing you were about to have your first kiss, you slowly shimmied to the edge of the bed, right where you were before you hightailed it backwards. 

Peter looks even better than you’ve pictured, his hair fluffy from where he ran his hands through it. A greeting smile rested on him, and his bright brown eyes warmed. “Well, hello there, I was afraid you got lost.” 

Sucking the life force from your bravery, “I was told there would be kisses out here.” 

A surprised look crossed Peter before he fell back into neutral, pushing off his desk to glide over in front of you, his knees knocking yours, suddenly you feel panicky again. “There absolutely can be.” 

Peter catches your nerves and figures it’d be easier to actually get it over with, because the second he would pull away all panic would hit near bottom ground. Using what little skill he has, he rests his right hand on your thigh while his left cups your face. 

You suck in a breath, following his guide when he brings your face up to his. Peter swipes his thumb across your cheekbone and you feel everything in you be set ablaze with desire. 

You wonder if he can feel how warm your cheek is under his touch, if he does, he doesn’t comment. When you give him no disagreement he leans in, he can hear your breath hitch, it brings him a little pleasure to be the ‘cool’ one in the situation. 

When he’s closer than you would’ve ever imagined he gives you a grin, “hi.” It was a hushed whisper, you give him one back, “hi.” Your eyes flash from his gaze to his mouth, you were caught, it makes you look down at your hands. 

Your mind spirals, why hasn’t he kissed you yet, and also, what do you do with your hands? Giving it a shot you press them against Peter’s chest, but it feels like you’re pushing him off, so you move to his shoulders but it doesn’t feel quite right. 

“Want some help?” Peter caught on to your struggle, of course he did, he just notices the little things with you. He doesn’t even pull away, just bringing his hand that was on your thigh to bring your left hand around his neck. Your right hand outstretched to rest on his ribcage, when you look back he seems much closer, this time he’s looking at your mouth. 

“Do-” 

Peter cuts you off, a hushed whisper, “I’m gonna kiss you now,” you breathe in sharply, “oh, okay.” Peter can’t fight the smile, “is it?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, his mouth is on yours, and it’s heaven. You feel like you’re floating, his lips velvety smooth, the only way you know how to show your shock and appreciation is by gripping his shirt. Peter’s bottom lip favored your top lip, moving into his kisses awkwardly. He was much more experienced, but he didn’t make you feel overwhelmed, it felt like he was guiding you. 

You didn’t feel like you were doing much, but it felt like everything you imagined. It made you dream of a day where you could do this with him whenever you wanted. It felt like he was pulling away, you refused to part and followed him, holding tight to his flannel. It failed when he was able to push you away with ease. 

Peter sounded slightly winded, you were blinking with stars in your eyes, your heartbeat in your throat, and just a little shy to look at him. “Funny thing about kissing, you gotta breathe to keep doing it.” 

You're new to it, gulps of fresh air weren’t as refreshing as him. You wanted to kiss him again, but you didn’t want to put him out, and you still weren’t sure how to initiate or ask for it. 

Peter tapped on your knee, “wanna take me out for another test drive or are you happy with your purchase?” 

He wanted to do it again. 

That’s a good thing. 

“If I buy it, does that mean the test drives stop?” 

“Of course not. That just means you don’t need to ask to drive it.” 

You lean in this time, “but I have to ask now?” 

Peter speaks against your lips, “it would be the customary thing to do.” 

“Well then,” you speak softly and look at him, “would you kiss me again?” 

Your eyes close when he brushes against your mouth, a kiss is pressed to the corner of your cheek, “depends, are you planning on purchasing?” 

Boldly, you give him a chaste kiss, “everyone at school is gonna hate my new car.” 

Peter kisses your cheek, “best in show, baby. Best in show.” 

You take a deep breath, it wasn’t a bad thing to need someone. And it wouldn’t be bad to let yourself have them. 

Peter Parker heard everything everyone said but he wasn’t even listening, it felt dizzying, for the first time someone saw the real you, the good you and wanted you. He wanted nothing and everything at the same time. You liked him, maybe a bit too much, and the risk of losing him was enough to send you flying. But the chance of love, and hope and trust was even bigger. 

Someone wasn’t scared to have a big reputation with you. Peter Parker was proud to have the same big enemies as you. 

And for that reason, 

“Sold.” 

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 11, Pt. 3 (Sneak Peek)

a/n: hello, my precious loves! here is your 4k words of sneak peek. (pt 3 of chapter 11 is currently at ✨45k words✨… sooo, this ~feels~ like a ~little snippet~ to me lmao) <3

Warnings (18+ — MINORS DNI): heavy petting; kissing in places you shouldn’t be kissing when you’re dating someone else; cheating; references to excessive drinking; drinking game; Sam being Sam; as usual, let me know if I missed anything that might be triggering to you! (I’m sure I missed something)

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Not wanting to give in to the urge to ask him for help, you tried your damn best to just do it yourself. Standing on your tiptoes, you stretched a hand way up for that one clear mixing bowl you always used when you baked. . . So close, yet just out of your reach. 

A lot like someone–.

“Dammit, y/n, let me get it.” His beautifully raspy voice was suddenly in your ear, but he sounded a little perturbed. All the sound did was make your cheeks grow warm and pink. “Just ask for help.”

He was right behind you, his front side completely pressed to your backside, making you dizzy. And as he placed one hand on your hip to balance himself, you thought you were going to buckle immediately. The feeling of his searing hot hold on the bit of skin at your hip, peeking out from your t-shirt. 

His fingers were so close to the bump, but not quite touching it. As he pushed himself into you a bit further, you felt him against your ass. Right through the thin material of your black Soffe shorts. 

He wasn’t completely hard. Not yet. But he would get there before too long if this continued like it had before Sam’s intrusion. You knew him. 

Back in the moment, you noticed his other hand reaching up for the bowl. And, of course, he grabbed it with no problem at all, being tall enough to grab the dish that had been too difficult a job for you.

Ugh. You needed him. Even if it were just for a fucking dish. 

When he placed the bowl on the counter, you reached to touch the bowl at the same moment he went to move his hand. And for a brief bit of time, your hands grazed each other. It happened for long enough that you both stilled your hands, appreciating the feeling. . .

He didn’t move from his spot behind you. 

He laid his palm flat on the counter, grounded himself. Boxed you in with his body — the sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne made your head swirl. You gripped the bowl tighter, enjoying the fact that he’d stayed behind you, but wanting more. His hot breath continued to bathe your already warm neck in the most delicious wisps of air. Naturally, you leaned into him just the slightest bit. Couldn’t help it.

Once more, his voice was in your ear. “Was Sam right?”

You turned your head to speak to him more directly, but kept your eyes downcast to maintain some sense of stability. Lowly, you questioned him right back. “Was he right about what?” 

“Are you going to mess around with Theo?” He hushed, breath fanning over your cheek. He spoke Theo’s name as if it were laced with poison. “You wanna take out your baby hormones on him?”

“That’s not your business, Jake,” you breathed back, shakily taking in some air to fill your tight lungs. You moved your hand to his, watching the movement. You gently traced your fingertips down his long digits. His strong hand fidgeted, flexing at the action. Slowly, you went to rest your palm on the top of his hand. 

But when you went to move your hand, he stopped you. His hand quickly turned the other way around to grab yours in a sure grip — seamlessly lacing your fingers. 

“Do you really want him?” he posed the question heatedly, placing a breath of a kiss on your temple, lips brushing your skin. 

“I don’t fucking know, Jake,” you hissed under your breath, arching into him as he brushed your hair to the side, once again pressing his lips to the column of your neck. 

Before you could think of another thing, Jake was spinning you around, your back smoothly connecting with the side of the fridge nearest to you. Your breath was heavy enough to emit a gasp at the motion. Just out of view from the guys, Jake kept you hidden, pulling you away from the fridge and closer to him.

His grasp on your hand let up a little, his palm pressing against the small of your back the best it could with your hand in the way. At the same time, he pressed his hips into yours, showing his reaction to you. 

Oh.

He kept hold of your hand at your lower back, his arm wrapped close around you. His strength held you in a secure grip, making you feel so safe and at home. . . Just like the lavender field. . . 

Your stomach was pressed into his, there was a sliver of skin where your belly was exposed at the hem of your t-shirt. Your warm skin brushed up against the buttons of his shirt and the soft material. The cottony linen of it felt like a dream against your skin, so close to him. His soft lips made home on your neck, placing wet kiss after wet kiss on the skin there. His tongue, peeking out only slightly to touch you with every nip from his lips.

He reached one hand up to hold your cheek, positioning your face just right to get the angle he wanted.

Your body ignited with heat and desire for him. The way your head fell back and your neck loosened with the tiniest sigh from your lips was unavoidable.

“You keep doing this to me, baby,” he groaned against your neck. Slowly, he lifted his mouth from you, his tongue had been so close to running over your pulse. You knew it.

But he’d stopped.

“Doing what to you, Jacob?” You grit back, pulling your head up lazily to stare at him. There was fire in your eyes as you peeked up at him from under your lashes. Your chest lifted in heavy breaths.

“I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help but look at you and— and. . .,” he trailed off, gently running his thumb over your cheekbone. His shoulders, sturdy, and curved in to keep you to himself. “I just look at you and want to bend you over and remind you that you can do better than him.”

Your thighs shivered, you were aching for him to do what he described. . .

Yet, as much as his words made you eager to do just what he wanted in the middle of this kitchen right this second. . . he’d said something you both needed to remember. It was wrong. Though, it was odd. . . Just as much as it felt foolishly wrong, it felt completely right.

But, right now, the wrong was what hung over your shoulders. The guys could walk in at any moment. Maya could arrive (thanks to Sam’s lovely invite) and catch you both. 

Wrapped up in each other. Goddammit.

“Jake,” you sighed, sadly and resolved to the decision to break up whatever was going on at the moment. “We shouldn’t– we shouldn’t be doing this. We aren’t together. This is–. You have Maya and I have to–.”

He didn’t take his eyes from you for several seconds, studying your face. You hadn’t moved. You didn’t want to be the first one to move. His eyebrows drew together in deep concentration. His amber-brown irises showed that he understood when he nodded hesitantly, backing away. You immediately missed the contact. His shoulders were tense and bunched up before he stood up straighter to roll them out. 

But, you could tell how upset it made him, eyes downcast until he was leaning against the island across from you, putting his hands out to grab hold of it when he was near enough. Across from you, he looked up at you with conflict painting his features. He understood the levity of the situations you kept putting yourselves in, but what he understood about it made him angry. Or, at least you assumed. You’d spent several months observing every little (and big) emotion Jake felt, you had a pretty good inclination on how well you could read the man. Most times. 

Besides, you felt the same exact way, so you could sense it billowing off of him in waves. 

“I know,” he sighed, his body rigid and eyes emptier than they’d been moments before. He slapped on a smile that stretched a little too tight across his lips. “Just–go rest. I need to wait in here for the pizzas to finish.”

“But I need to make the brown–.”

“I will make them.”

“Jake–.”

“Do you want to make them?”

“Yes, I want to eat some, so—.”

“But did you truly want to make them, or can you just let me do that for you?”

You stood there, at a loss over much more than the brownies. Without any other idea of how to respond, you just placed your hands on your hips, shrugging. Preparing and baking them had just been a distraction. 

If you weren’t going to allow yourself to be in the same room as Jake, all you really wanted to do was sit down and rest your feet after the long day. 

But damn. . .you’d made yourself want those brownies. . .The picture on the box was calling your name. . .

Jake huffed the smallest laugh, but his face was still void of any one emotion. “I know you don’t want to make them, but you want to eat them. Let me make them for you.”

Then, you looked over to the sink. You hadn’t finished with the lavender. You’d gotten distracted.

“The plant. I need to put it in a new–.”

“I’ll get it,” Jake said, his eyes the slightest bit brighter, even though his mouth still held a smile that didn’t look completely real. “You need to sit down. It’s been a long day. Go talk to my brothers or something. I’m sure you’d love to do that and they fucking love you, so.”

Well, it was settled, then. He was correct in all of that.

“And call your boyfriend,” he suddenly said, turning his back to you, tone too friendly. It sounded as though he was suddenly okay with Theo. You knew damn better than that. 

But you couldn’t question his sudden change in attitude with his back turned to you once again.

And why was his sudden shift in attitude pissing you the hell off? Stupid ass shit. It shouldn’t even matter — it just threw you for a loop. You were still so angry and he was just. . . Fine?

Ugh. If anything, it should have made you glad that he wasn’t being so hostile about Theo. . . But instead, you missed the way he inflamed at the mention of your study buddy. You missed the heat from moments ago.

You clenched your fists at your hips, digging into the flesh before you decided to pull down your shirt a little to cover your whole tummy. Even if it was only a couple inches of skin, it made you feel exposed and you were not in the mood anymore. 

To test him just a little, you fought back. “He’s not my–.”

“Well, he’s on his way to being it, so might as well start calling him that,” he responded, a little sharper. And with his broad back still to you, as he went about grabbing the rest of the ingredients. 

You stood there for a moment, contemplating what to say – if you should say anything. But when he avoided any and all eye contact, you decided to just leave the room. 

He was a pro at pissing you the fuck off. And you didn’t want to argue with him over something so stupid and trivial. 

You didn’t make a sound as you turned on your heel and made your way to the living room to be with the boys. Sam and his loud signature cackle that was bouncing off of the living room walls to greet you.

As soon as your ass hit the couch cushion, you were texting Theo. Because, well. . . fuck Jake. 

Suddenly, you were very excited to see how Jake might react to having him around all night. 

He took almost no time to respond. 

Theo, 6:23 p.m.: I’ll be there :) Thanks for thinking of me, beautiful!

The term of endearment made your heart leap in your chest, your cheeks blushing as a little grin fit to your lips. Beautiful. Every girl likes being called beautiful by a cute guy. You might as well fucking enjoy it. He was coming for you tonight. Only you. No one else. 

He only wanted you. You were special to him. Jake couldn’t say that. There was at least one woman more important than you and he made that clear by continuing to be with her. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were relieved for it. . . 

In your heart, you knew that your graveyard of a past was not something he was responsible for. He didn’t need to be the one picking up the pieces. You’d rather him be with a woman who brought him nothing but joy. You brought doom and destruction. Right? You always had.

You were momentarily distracted as you watched Sam uselessly trying to put his hair in a high bun. Danny was rolling his eyes and soon coming to his rescue. He really was such a good friend. Everyone needed a Daniel Wagner in their life.

Then, as you were texting Theo back with a slightly flirty text, you wondered what the night might entail for you. Playing this damn game was ridiculous and petty, but you had a point to prove. To Jake and to yourself. You didn’t need him. 

Who knew if he cared to realize it. . . But you did. In all reality, you knew Jake really didn’t even care that much. It was more about the baby than you anyway, you were sure of it. And you still had a life you wanted to live and Jake’s role as the baby’s father wasn’t going to deter you.

So, you contemplated. 

Should you take it a step further? Force yourself out of Jake Mode? You hadn’t been with anyone else for a long-ass time. . . It could be really good for you. Even if it felt a little strange doing that with someone else while Jake’s baby moved around (apparently quite a bit) inside your belly. You couldn’t feel her yet, but Dr. Rose had assured you that it would be coming sooner than later. 

What would it be like when you could feel her? Would that make sex with someone else even more awkward? 

You rolled your eyes at that thought. Duh. It would be like your baby giving you a piece of her mind for giving anyone but her Daddy attention. Well, too bad her Daddy wanted to give someone else attention. And too bad you were too fucked up to give yourself to her Daddy. 

Damn, even though you’d just been pissed at Jake, referring to him as Daddy in your head was doing something to you. Something Jake couldn’t be the one to help you with. Because you were done with the foolish moments.

You knew you’d end up needing help alleviating some of that pent up tension. All of the. . . moments with Jake recently weren’t doing your over-excited sex drive and hormones any good. You were on the verge of going absolutely ballistic if you didn’t do something to ease the pent up energy.

And you were not about to give Jake the idea that he would be the one to help (as much as you wanted it). Not anymore would you give that idea to him. Not when he was so quick to turn you on and just as soon turn his back. 

Fuck that.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

“I call the hard liquor!” Sam excitedly declared as he started fast walking towards the kitchen. 

“Dear God,” Josh grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer. “Please, God no.”

“Um, absolutely not,” Danny replied, already following closely behind. 

Theo quickly got up to follow the other two, acting like he was somehow part of the inside joke. It was awkward to watch, but you were glad he was up and away from you for a little bit. His arm had been around you all night and it had been suffocating the air around you. Claustrophobia was definitely real.

After a few seconds of feeling the relief, it dawned on you what Sammy had said. Liquor. This was a drinking game. Duh.

“Fuuuck,” you groaned with a small huff. For some reason, you’d totally forgotten about the whole drinking part of the game.

“What, love?” Josh inquired, brows knit in concern. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you drew out the word with a sad smile and a shake of your head. “I just remembered it’s a drinking game.”

“Oh no,” Maya chimed in, her naturally whiny voice getting right under your skin. It was obvious she was trying too hard to act like she cared.

She sounds like a goddamn Kardashian, you thought with an internal roll of your eyes. 

“Oh, y/n. Fuck. Do we need to find a different game?” Josh wondered aloud, doe-eyed and totally willing to uproot the one game Sam wanted to play. It was Sam’s night and you weren’t about to rain on his already-depressing parade. “We can total–.”

“No, Joshy,” you swatted the idea away with a wave of your hand. With a hand to your belly, you leaned back, a wider grin gracing your lips. “I’ll just sit here and watch. It’ll be just as fun.”

“No it won’t,” Josh argued, shaking his head. “I want you to participate. Let me think. . .,” He was silent for a bit, his thinking face on as he tapped a finger to his chin. His eyes lit up after a few seconds, apparently coming up with something. “How about none of us drink and we just get out if we laugh?”

“The drinking adds to the hilarity of the game,” you replied. “Seriously, Josh. It’s o–.”

“How about. . .,” Jake suddenly chimed in to your left, having taken up the chaise with Maya. Your skin heated at hearing his voice. You hadn’t looked his way since he’d come to sit in the living room an hour or so ago.

You’d been rude enough to not even say thank you for the delicious pizza you’d all devoured. Or the brownies that he’d ended up baking for you, swirling caramel in with them and everything. He’d done more than he had to, but you didn’t want to think about it.

But, you decided to finally show him a little respect by turning your head in the direction of his voice. “How about I don’t drink either and you and I can just play the game by getting out if we laugh,” he paused, probably assuming you’d turn all the way to look at him better in response. You didn’t. “Um. . . Everyone else can drink. It’ll still be funny that way and we don’t have to break Sammy’s heart by taking away the drinking.”

Why was he being so sweet? You hated how kind he could be. It did your heart very little good.

“Jake, no. Don’t do that. I’ll be–,” you began, finally letting your eyes flit over to him. But, he wasn’t looking at you. No, he was watching Josh who’d started clapping. 

Apparently Josh liked the idea. 

“Great thinking, Jacob!” Josh applauded him from his spot at the ottoman. Then, the curly headed twin languidly rose from his spot on the ottoman, brushing his khaki pants before pointing towards the kitchen. “If that’s all settled, I’m going to grab a White Claw and assist Daniel in herding Sam back in here.”

Without any time to protest and Josh already on his way to the kitchen, you were out-voted. No drinking for you or Jake, apparently. 

“Well. . .,” Maya dragged in her valley-girl twang, dragging a hand up Jake’s arm that you immediately turned your head down at seeing. “I won’t drink if you don’t, babe.” 

Your stomach lurched at her acting like she could save the day by not making Jake do something alone with the pregnant lady.

“No. . . it’s okay,” Jake said in return, trying to use a honeyed little voice to reassure her. 

You could’ve puked on the spot. 

“I don’t want you to feel alone, though,” the gorgeous dark-haired woman offered. You were glad you’d been avoiding looking at them all night. You’d watched her walk in and claim the chaise. Aaand that had been enough. You hated watching her and Jake and it was honestly aggravating how perfect she was in her statuesque beauty. 

“I won’t be alone,” he reminded her in the same sugary tone. “Y/n isn’t drinking either.”

There was a pause where it seemed like Maya was weighing whether or not that was a valid response. You decided it didn’t even fucking matter to you what she thought. 

At the perfect time, you heard Stevie approach your legs with a meow.  So, you took advantage of her seeking you out and lifted her to sit in your lap. Of course, the cat relaxed easily against your crossed legs (because, thankfully, you could still do that — barely). 

But when you heard a hushed voice coming from Maya and Jake’s direction, you obviously had to peek over. Were they whispering about you? 

When you looked their way, you realized it was only Maya doing the whispering. Jake sat there, leaned forward towards you, his hands clasped and elbows sitting on his thighs. His eyes were cast down as she said whatever she was saying in his ear, his brows scrunched as if thinking critically over what she was saying. 

You squinted at her with her mouth so close to his ear, her hair draped over her shoulder, body turned almost entirely towards him. You could still see her incredible cleavage from this vantage point. God.

As you further observed, you noticed her hand was up to cover her mouth, too. Little fucking secret keeper. This was your fucking apartment – if the bitch had something to say, she needed to say it out loud. 

So, with a clenched jaw and slanted eyes, you addressed it. “You know, May–.”

“It’s fine, babe,” Jake spit out before you could say anything, his eyes flicking over to yours as if to say ‘It’s not worth it.’ “I don’t care that much. You have fun. I promise I’ll still have fun, too. Have you met my brothers? They don’t need alcohol to act like idiots.”

Maya’s eyes were downcast as she rubbed Jake’s arm, squeezing his bicep. 

Then you watched in horror as she rubbed salt in the wound, cupping both hands around his cheeks and bringing him over to her. And, sitting there, still petting Stevie, you got to gloomily witness Maya wrapping her lips around his. It was in the most sultry manner (or was that just her?) – laying her claim on the man whose child you held inside of you. 

Being the person on the opposite side of this made you want to fucking puke. His eyes closing in appreciation of the kiss was icing on the damn cake. And the way his line of sight found you mid-kiss and clung to you until the end of the mini makeout was hell. The deepest, most fiery crevice of hell.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

The giggle that erupted from Josh as he drew his card was so loud, you were certain the neighbors could hear as it echoed. He’d knocked out more than a couple of White Claws — and drank them much faster than he should have.

He shook his head, his hand cupping his mouth to muffle yet another boisterous laugh as he read again to himself.

“Elmo can’t believe this!” He exclaimed, chuckling afterwards as the rest of you shared tiny grins and wide eyes. Was he imitating a Sesame Street character?

And, when he started singing Elmo’s World, your theory was confirmed.

It was. . . alarming how perfectly he mimicked the red, furry character. Almost as if the puppet lived inside of him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sam snarked, confused and clearly lacking any patience with his brother's antics. 

The rest of you were caught in a fit of giggles as Josh continued to say things as Elmo, in third person and everything. Though you were also confused as hell, you were equally impressed by his spot-on impersonation. 

The youngest brother leaned forward to try to nab the card from Josh, but Josh hastily brought his hand back to himself.

“My card, Sam!” Josh shouted, slapping his younger brother's hand away, still wheezy laughing. Then, he shook his head, pretending to dust off the front of the card. “What an imbecile,” he mumbled, a tad bit more serious to imply his annoyance with Sam.

The roll of Sam’s eyes was the most dramatic display of exasperation you’d ever seen from him, and that was certainly saying something. You tried so hard to hold back your laughter, fearful that any more pressure on your tummy would cause you to pee right on the spot. (Thanks, pregnancy.) 

“Then shut the hell up and read it,” Sam spat, impatiently waiting to move along with the game.  

“Okay, okay,” Josh started, holding his card in front of his face, pretending to adjust the invisible monocle that was (not) sitting over his left eye for an added dramatic effect. “You’re a tickle me Elmo.” He cleared his throat, attempting to hold whatever his persona was, but cracking yet another laugh after he read the words aloud. “. . . And you insist that the target tickle you, and if they do, get furious at them.” 

The room resounded with a collective “Oh!” once you all discovered the true reasoning behind his little (and terrifyingly accurate) impression. 

He held the card down just enough that his eyes peeked over the cardstock, his right eyebrow cocked as his eyes flitted around the room. “Who shall be my playmate?” He joked as he placed his hand on the bottle, spinning it with a graceful tap, just enough to land on the person sitting right beside him: Samuel.

“That’s not fair!” Sam protested, still drunk, but thankfully having been cut off from the hard stuff as soon as he’d tried to claim it at the beginning of the game. “You didn’t spin hard enough, Joshua! Not a fair spin. Do it again.”

“The bottle chooses who it chooses, brother,” Jake chimed in from his spot, where you refused to look. 

You just settled back into Theo’s arm that was slung across the back of the couch, trying your best to be comfortable. Fake it till you make it. And when Sam straight up pouted for thirty seconds straight, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Samuel Francis,” you said his name flatly. “Just play the goddamn card with Josh. Jesus. There is definitely worse. You’re just lucky he’s not–.”

“Naming every part of my body while touching it,” Sam interrupted, locking eyes with you as he raised a brow. A mischievous grin rising under his mustache.

And as your mind rushed with the memory, you couldn’t stop your eyes from flicking to Josh’s. Of course, he was already looking at you. He knew now was not the time. You knew he knew.

And from your peripheral, you saw Danny looking at you as well. And when you looked over towards him, he was giving you a look that said ‘don’t listen to him’, which you waved off with a swat of your hand in the air and a shaky smile. 

Don’t think about it, y/n, your inner voice counseled you. Sam’s just drunk and doesn’t hold enough stock in what he’s saying for you to take it personally. Just ignore him.

“Sam.” You heard Jake sternly say his name, close to you from where he sat snugly in the chaise to your left. The seriousness in his tone made you freeze.

And this time when he spoke, you let yourself look at him. Instantly, you regretted it, seeing his arm around Maya’s shoulders. But you just focused on how his eyes found yours for a solid ten seconds, full of fire and a sort of protection. Your heart leapt in your chest at the same time he trained his eyes, once again, on Sam. “Fuck right off and go tickle Josh. Suck it the hell up.”

-🌼🌼🌼- 

The night continued on after Sam tickled Josh’s (very creepy) version of Elmo.

After that one, you got to witness a few more hilarious rounds. You’d belly laughed at Sam imitating a bird and pecking endlessly at Josh with his nose. The way your sides hurt when Danny got to be Nicholas Cage while searching for the Declaration of Independence (Jake had been the Declaration of Independence) was incomparable. And you tried hard to not cringe when Theo had been Mickey Mouse going through withdrawals and looking for drugs that his target had (that lucky target had been Sam, once again).

Thankfully, you’d had to pee at the perfect time and got to skip your turn. But when you came back, Maya had just gone and it was Jake’s turn.

He had just picked his card once you worked to make yourself comfortable on the couch. As comfortable as you could be. It took you a moment to find the right spot, groaning as you finally settled.

Theo, of course, didn’t offer any help. He was oblivious to your pain, ignoring it altogether as he sat on the cushion next to you.

But, Jake noticed. You knew he did. And so, you looked up and over at him for his understanding.

It was confirmed for you when he was already watching you, his body sitting up a little straighter where he sat on the edge of the chaise, facing you and the rest of the room. His card, in his hand, but of little to no importance to him at the moment.

It was as if he was ready to drop it all and help if needed. But you just shook your head at him to reassure him you were fine.

Though, when you heard the soft timbre in his voice as he leaned forward to quietly check on you, you were no longer fine. And it was as though there was no Theo or Maya or anyone in the room.

For a moment, at least.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said to him, avoiding looking at him for too long, knowing it would hurt if you offered more. “Just a little hard to get comfy these days.”

You offered one more quick glance to see if he’d heard you. And after he’d nodded in response to you, he let his eyes readjust to the card.

His eyes lit up when he read the card to himself, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he giggled under his breath. His beautiful teeth, on full display in a wide smile.

Then, his face was serious. He was putting on a persona. You looked at him with wide eyes and a smirk, waiting for whatever this was. One of his eyebrows raised as he flourished a gesture with one hand.

“Oh, fuck no,” Josh groaned from his spot across the room. “Not the Johnny Depp. Please.”

“You’re a pirate, and your map shows where the buried treasure is,” he read aloud, using his best Jack Sparrow accent, flailing his arm and slurring together his words as though he had just downed the last sip of rum. “The bloody problem is. . . It’s in your Target’s. . .,” he paused, presumably for some sort of dramatic effect.

“There is no way the card said ‘bloody problem,” Daniel jested with a laugh.

“A Jake treat, I’m sure,” Josh added.

You let your eyes roll as you repositioned your body, the last one already beginning to cause aches and pains as you prepared yourself for whatever this card said.

But, as you were about to discover, there was no preparing for this one.

“The treasure is in,” he said again, a bit firmer for emphasis and with a glare towards the two mocking brothers. (The glare wasn’t any good for your comfortability, by the way.) “Your target’s. . . .pants,” he finished. The room shot off in laughter, while you were silently panicking inside your mind.

Fuck.

He held the card between his middle and index fingers, then flicked it across the room before reaching his hand to the bottle. (Why was that so fucking sexy?)

You clenched your fists, your jaw, everything as the bottle was spinning, slowly contemplating the fate of the unlucky (rather, very lucky) soul it would choose as Jake’s victim.

Please no. Please no, you thought looking away from it would somehow deter it from landing on you. (As if it fucking worked that way.)

But, when you heard it come to a stop, and heard the collective gasp from everyone in the room, you knew.

The bottle, in all of its glory, was pointing right at you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmm… we’ve returned to our beloved game from game night in chapter 3… I wonder what’s in store…

See you in a couple/few days with the rest of this chapter!

xoxoxo — love you all so incredibly much <333

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Taglist (continued in reblog):

@jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @builtbybrokenbells, @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo, @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas, @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave

@chichi610, @freyjalw, @scoreofinfantryvines, @stonecoldmo, @divapadam

I tried to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! 🤦‍♀️ Please make sure you’re filling out my Google form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) I ch. VII

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6,656

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), cute date on the back of jk's car trunk, jk nervous, jk gives lots of gifts & flowers to oc, oc is obsessed with clearance chocolate, auntie oc and uncle kook take care of yoongi's twins, jk & oc become guinea pigs for yoongi's kids lmao, mention of dentist!yoongi, jk's mommy issues get mentioned, jk has personal daddy issues but he working through them, jk being good hubby to oc, just a rollercoaster of emotions ngl

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: Hello! thanks for being patient with me guys!! Important: the flashback for this chapter follows events of chapter V and will refer to it. And yes it's thier first date! Kind of 👀👀 that will be for you to decide. Then we have present day jk and oc being guinea pigs for Yoongi's crazy twins hehehe. Ok pls, enjoy 💞

<< ch. VI ༓ ch. VIII >> ┃series masterlist

You know how some couples have multiple weddings that lead to disagreements over their real anniversary date? Or maybe it’ll be when the relationship was made official or what the first sign of attraction was? Yeah, that’s you and Jungkook when it comes to pinpointing exactly when your first date was.

If you ask your husband, he’ll tell you it was weeks after you were discharged from the hospital during your postgrad studies. But in your opinion, it was far before his timeframe.

You see due to a group of overly eager college freshmen, you had sprained your ankle and cracked a rib. Jungkook stayed with you the entire first two weeks of the recovery period. He'd bring study notes to you, your favorite food, hell even art supplies he bummed off Taehyung to help break up your mundane days in the hospital.

When the time finally came that you were well enough to finish the healing process at home, he suggested a dinner out would be an excellent way to celebrate.

"...do you wanna go out to dinner?" Jungkook pops the question more causal than expected.

"Are you asking me on a date…?"

His reply is barely audible but you hear it and for the first time, your professor sounds truly timid. "Uh, well…let's go with hang out like friends do."

You’re convinced that this was the first time he asked you out, thus leading to your first date. Your husband, however, thinks it was too vague to tell. He prefers to see it as more a pre-date instead.

So, was it a date?

Was it an unspoken pre-date?

The jury’s still out about this one.

4 years ago

It’s a gorgeous day with the way the sun beams on the hood of his car. A few scattered clouds, fluffy and white, float across the sky as well, offering shelter from the heat. You were discharged from the hospital only yesterday and Jungkook was already insistent on going out today, saying that a little fresh air and a change of scenery would be good for you.

“Where are we going?” You turn your head from the passenger window to look at the man inquisitively. It’s a simple question but the tension of the unknown nibbles at you from inside.

“One of my favorite spots,” Jungkook replies with his eyes set on the road. “Hope you don’t mind the drive. It’ll be another fifteen minutes.”

“It's fine. Why can’t I know where we’re going though?”

He hesitates to answer. “Do you not like surprises?”

You shrug. “Sure I do, as long as I know about them ahead of time.”

A hearty laugh follows your words and it sends one of the warmest feelings through your whole body. You didn't think you were being funny, but after being stuck in the hospital for two weeks, it's nice to feel something other than dismal. Jungkook is good at lifting your spirits at the most unexpected of times, you hum to yourself.

He looks handsome today too.

You can’t stop yourself from thinking about it as you watch a few strands of his dark hair blow over. He has his window cracked to let in a gentle breeze and though it causes him trouble here and there, he remains mostly unbothered.

The oversized white T-shirt he chose to wear is something you're still taking time to adjust to. Much more casual compared to what he wears during his lectures. But you like it with the loose-fitting pants he's paired it with.

"If it's necessary for you to know where we're going then I guess I have no choice." Jungkook looks in your direction but your gaze lingers down his torso. "__."

"Yes?" You immediately blink up at him, hoping you don’t look too flushed. Once he directs his attention back to the road you'll make sure to check yourself in the side-view mirror. Using your phone camera might look a little too obvious.

"I was saying if you need to know where we're going I'll tell you," he repeats. "But if it's possible I'd really like for it to be a secret until we get there."

"Alright," you concede. "I guess I could stand the wait this one time. This is your only freebie though. No more surprises after this."

"No more checking me out," he mutters.

"What?"

"Nothing."

.

"Can I open my eyes yet?"

"No." Jungkook opens his door and hops out of the car. "I'll be right back."

"Wait where are you going?" You know he wants whatever this is to be a surprise but you've been told to keep your eyes shut for the last five minutes. You're a little nervous to say the least, especially if he's about to disappear somewhere. "Jungkook?"

No response.

"Hello? Jungkook?" You're tempted to open your eyes when you hear the trunk of his car suddenly pop open. Several rustling noises follow as he digs around. "What are you doing back there?"

"You'll see soon. I'm almost done so just sit tight for a moment." He unzips a bag and then pushes said bag around the floorboard. The sound of something crashing on the ground perks up your ears in the moments following, earning a tiny 'shit' from Jungkook.

"Everything alright?" You're seriously getting antsy now.

When Jungkook swings your door open, a cool breeze hits your legs. "All good __. But now, I'm going to need you to trust me because I'm going to help you out of the car."

What?

"Um, I do have crutches I can use you know. You don't have to carry me anywhere like before. Dr. Kim said I should–"

"You won't need them this time. We're not going far okay?" He ducks his head inside and guides your arms around his neck. "Can you scoot forward a little?"

You do as he says until he tells you to stop. And with one arm supporting your lower back and the other firm under your legs, you're lifted out of your seat.

"Okay." The ground underneath his feet crunches as he straightens himself back up and out of the vehicle. "Now you can open your eyes."

As soon as you do your jaw drops.

"Surprise!"

Jungkook watches your stunned face as you take in all of Seoul from your perched position.

"I hope you don't mind that I didn't take us to a traditional restaurant. This is an overlook I happened to stumble on years ago when I first moved here. Not many people know about it because it's kind of off the beaten track but I get a bit adventurous sometimes."

He carries you around to the back of the car.

"Since you're still recovering I won't make us sit on the ground but I brought food that we can eat in the back of my trunk. There's a pillow there you can lean against too. And I made sure to park at an angle so we can watch the sunset."

"Wow...Jungkook I don't know what to say."

"It's cheesy isn't it?" His previously eager tone drops and you can't help but feel a pulling at your heartstrings. "I'm sorry if this isn't your thing. I probably should have asked."

"I love cheesy." You crack a small smile and Jungkook breaks out into a grin again, causing both of you have butterflies in your stomachs. "You're very thoughtful for doing this. I'm sorry about my initial reaction. I'm just shocked."

"Well, we're friends now, aren't we? You should get used to this kind of stuff from now on." He walks up to the trunk and carefully sets you down. "Here, lean back." He fluffs the pillow and then gestures for you to lay back.

Once you're comfortable, he hops in next to you and grabs the baby blue gift bag from the corner of the trunk. You don't know how you missed it before given its size and very decorative packaging.

"Before I give you this to you please know that I don't expect anything back okay?" His hands are shaky as he holds the bag on his lap. "This is just something I wanted to give you after your injury and having to be in the hospital for so long."

You nod your head in understanding but are not fully convinced. "And you're giving this to me as a friend, yes?" You take the bag from him and slowly open it.

"Mhm."

You narrow your eyes at him before reaching into the bag. You take out a very large, sturdy box. "God, Jungkook. This is so heavy. What's in here?" You tear apart the wrapping paper and open the smooth lid. "Oh my god, you didn't?!"

They're chocolates from the dessert shop you told him about last Sunday night. You had mentioned it in passing because you were craving sweets but not in the slightest did you think he'd take it to heart. The shop was at least an hour's drive away.

"Don't worry." He sees the pressure creeping on your face. "I was going that direction anyway. But I saw it on my way back and was reminded that you were craving it the other night. Uhm, there's also a coupon in there too. They included that in the purchase."

"Jungkook....you really didn't need to do any of this for me." You grab the small card laying at the bottom of the bag that reads 20% off. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, I almost forgot!" You're taken aback when he jumps off the trunk to scurry to the backseat. He returns in mere seconds with a generous bouquet of pink and purple hydrangeas. "These are for you too."

You shriek and grab them out of his hand, feeling a little giddy. Hydrangeas are your absolute favorites. "Sorry, that was really rude of me. These are so beautiful, though. Thank you. I don't know what to say."

Jungkook sits back down and pulls forward a freezer bag. "Seeing you this excited is enough. I brought us a lot of food too so, we should probably eat it before it starts going bad. This bag can only do so much preserving." He digs out box after box of yummy food from fresh strawberries to sushi. There are drinks too; banana milk and soju.

Your stomach growls as you watch him set the food between you both.

"Well, don't be shy." He hands you a plate with chopsticks. "Dig in."

.

"You look very pretty in that blouse..." He stabs his straw into his milk and takes a large sip. "The color really suits you."

"Oh, thank you." You manage the words once you swallow the strawberry you're eating. "Yours too."

Jungkook combs through his hair with his fingers. "Thanks, this t-shirt really brings out my eyes don't you think?" You laugh and shove his shoulder lightly.

"Stop, I'm being serious. I don't see you in this type of style often. It looks good."

He gives a playful shake of his head. "Where did you get that shirt anyway?" He gestures at your top again.

"At a store," you reply dumbly. "It was on sale. Gotta love a good deal right?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Never pay full price."

"That's exactly what I try telling my roommate. She only buys the best of the best but I think she could get the same thing 50% off if she waited long enough."

"You know Taehyung's the same way. Nothing but luxury from head to toe. I'm surprised he paints in a basic t-shirt and jeans some days."

You chuckle, feeling the air light and fresh. "Painting gets messy so it's better you not wear your best and brightest clothes. Sometimes I'll just wear a giant t-shirt that already has paint stains and nothing el–"

Shit.

You cringe at how quickly you can run your mouth. Jungkook doesn't need to know your painting attire evident from his sudden frozen up form.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be. I've heard worse." Jungkook clears his throat and looks out to the view in front of you. "This really is a beautiful spot is it not?"

Thank you for the deflection, you silently say to him.

"Yes, it's the best view I've seen in my life. I can't believe you found this place. It's like seeing everything for the first time again."

.

"__."

"Hm?"

"Is it weird that I–" He stops mid-sentence, hands rubbing his thigh. "Is it weird that I brought you here?"

"Of c–"

"No wait, wait that's not what I wanted to ask." He runs his fingers through his hair again, doing his best to keep eye contact. "What would you say if someone were to ask you out?"

You relax into a tight-lipped smile and quirk your head to a slight angle. "I'd probably say no because I'm on a date with you right now."

At this Jungkook's milk slips from his hand, spilling on his pants. You grab some napkins next to you and help him wipe the spillage off.

"We're on a date?" He stands the milk upright. "This is a date?"

"Yes, it very obviously is. I don't wear this top for just anyone you know." You close your mouth instantly and sit up straight. "You weren't meant to hear the last part."

"Wait, go back. I thought this was us hanging out. Remember? At the hospital, I said–"

"C'mon the flowers, the specialty chocolates, taking me to one of your secret hideouts. Not to mention packing all this food to share. It is most definitely a date. Do you not want it to be?"

"No! I mean of course, yes. But I would have dressed a lot better." He looks down at himself, embarrassed. "I just threw these on before I left the house."

"And what else would you have worn? I see you in dress shirts and slacks twice a week at the school, if not more."

"Oh, I guess you have a point." He lets out a sigh. "To be honest __. We don't have the most proper relationship for that kind of thing, do we? It's annoying that I keep saying it but I am still your professor until the end of this semester at least. Us dating would be kind of a breach of contract."

"So you won't call this a date because you think it's forbidden?" You cross your arms.

"Well not entirely. It's just...I'm scared. There it is. And if we plan to do any sneaking around business I need to know you...shit, this is going to sound so middle school of me...I need to know you're interested in me __."

"For fucksake Jungkook, I wouldn't have agreed to come if I wasn't interested." You move closer to his side so you're inches from his face. "You're the kindest person I've ever known and I'd like to know you more like you've been doing for me the past two weeks. You've gone out of your way so many times for me that I seriously can't keep up. And while I can't say that I'm in love with you since it's much too soon, I've become very attracted to you. It just sucks we're in a bit of an odd position with school and all. But we can make this work. I'm also in post-grad so I don't think we're doing anything that risky."

"What about Taehyung?"

"That's all you got out of what I just said?"

"Sorry, I'm just asking because you seemed into him at the art exhibit. You're both artistic after all." He fiddles with his fingers. "I'm just the guy who you got stuck with this year because you couldn't major in art."

You feel compelled to take one of his restless hands in your own, so you do–holding it loosely.

"Kim Taehyung was simply a visual interest," you say. "I never thought about anything serious with him. He's also faculty so unless he saves my life or something, I'm not really considering anything beyond a friendly report."

A moment of silence is exchanged as Jungkook lets your response sink in. And as long as your eyes aren't fooling you, you'd say he's more than pleased with it.

"So...you really wanna do this?" Jungkook asks with more anticipation than nervousness this time.

"Yes." You nod.

"Wow, okay um, well when do you want to go out?" He kicks his feet back and forth. And when he reflexively squeezes your hand you can't help but grin at his eagerness. "I'm free every weekend if that works for you."

"We should probably get to the end of this date first Dr. Jeon."

"Nooo, I like Jungkook. Can we stay with Jungkook when it's just you and me? Also, this isn't a date. We need a do-over."

You laugh, seeing a new side of him. He's more, hm, whiny than you thought–it's cute.

"Jungkook, we don't need a do-over. This can be a date if we want it to be. It's got all the elements already. Look." You lift his hand in yours. "We're already holding hands.

"Nope. When are you free?"

"How about this coming Friday after 4pm? Is that too far out?"

He shakes his head fervently. "It works perfectly for me. Let's do 4:01pm." Your baffled expression causes his own eyebrows to knit together. "What? You can't do 4:01?"

"I–yeah sure I can but I didn't expect you to suggest a time so soon."

"Well, you said you'd be free after 4pm right?"

You nod.

"Then it's a date!"

He smiles wide and you do the same.

Present

"Kook, grab us a cart. You won't believe what's on sale!" You stuff about five gold-foiled boxes under your arm. The yellow tag next to the price says 75% off which means you are for sure buying at least ten of these.

It's times like these that your husband enjoys watching you most. You can barely reach the self where the clearance chocolate is, nevertheless, you're on your tip-toes with arms fully extended above your head to grab at every box of sweets you can.

His inner hero wants to help but he's learned early on not to get in the middle of you and your favorite snack. It's better he listens to your request to get a cart instead.

"Don't hurt yourself in the five minutes I'm gone okay honey?"

"Mhm," you mumble, not really paying attention. "Kook this chocolate has caramel and orange inside. Oh my god, look." You show him a box of chocolates with cherry filling. "These are to die for. I need like six of these."

"Here give me some of those." Jungkook takes the boxes of chocolates from your arm when he sees them slipping from your hold. "I'll put these in a cart while you keep digging. But if someone else comes along, let them have at least one this time."

He knows how much of a little hog you can get with your candy.

"Are you kidding? Finders keepers." You reach for another box, the ones in the back are always the best.

"__."

"What? I'm doing all the hard work here which means I get to keep all the chocolate."

"Fine, fine. Be sure to check the expiration date too." Jungkook turns around to stalk toward the front of the store. If he doesn't get his butt to a cart soon, his wife is going to turn into a grizzly bear.

A very cute grizzly bear.

But a grizzly bear nonetheless.

"Did we really need thirty boxes of these?" Jungkook dumps the grocery bags on your kitchen counter. "I love you but this is insane. Who's going to eat all of this chocolate?"

"Well, I was planning on sending the twins home with some." You rummage through the bag then move to stack them in the pantry. "They'll be here in an hour so it can be a surprise from us."

"Yoongi's twins? You're going to send the two children whose father is a dentist a whopping bag of chocolate?" Jungkook hands you another box to put in the pantry. The little assembly line works well when putting groceries away.

"I'm only giving them one box okay? So Yoongi can shove it."

You hear a snickering behind you.

"Honey don't push the man who could likely yank all your teeth out of your head and end with, 'will that be all?'"

You roll your eyes. "Yoongi doesn't scare me like he scares you. But if you're so worried I will get his permission ahead of time."

Jungkook's mouth opens in response until he feels a slight vibration in his pant pocket. When he takes it out to check his initial good mood drops about ten degrees.

"Kook?" You watch as he reads whatever it is on his phone.

"Nothing." He switches off the device and places it face-down on the counter. "It's just dad."

"Something about your mom I'm presuming?"

Being Saturday, it's been a few days since Jungkook had his fallout with his mother. They were originally planning to stay in town until Friday but left Thursday morning instead due to Mrs. Jeon feeling "unwanted".

Your husband's been in close contact with his father ever since.

"Yeah," Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh. "She's journaling again apparently. It's what she does to cope with frustrations like me."

"I'm sorry Kook." You rub his arm soothingly. "Maybe she needs some time to think about everything that's happened. I know you want her to talk to you but maybe it's not all bad that she's jotting things down first."

"Yeah, maybe." He takes your hand and presses a light kiss against the back of your knuckles. "It's whatever though, Mom can have her fit. I'm not going to let her ruin one of the only free days I get with my wife."

You smile and quickly peck his soft lips–something Jungkook wishes would be longer.

"Love you," you say and return to your original task of putting groceries away.

 "Listen to me you two gremlins," Yoongi says on a bent knee. "Eomma and I will be back by 8pm. Until then your uncle Jungkook and Aunt __ are in charge. You know the rules, no jumping around on the sofas, don't into Aunt __'s paints, stay out of Uncle Jungkook's office, and under no condition are you to get into sweets."

He flicks his eyes to you for a brief moment then sets them back on the two seven-year-old girls in front of him. They look adorable with their matching space buns.

"But Appa–"

"No Eun-ji."

"Can't I just have one? Pleaseee?" She stares up at Yoongi with large eyes, hands clasped together. His second daughter Ari quickly does the same.

"We promise we'll brush our teeth right after."

Yoongi's face remains unmoved at his twin's relentless need for chocolate. Sure, he may be the one more likely to cave to requests when it comes between him and his wife but sweets were definitely off the table. His girls just got their teeth cleaned a couple days ago too, cavity-free, and he intends to keep it that way.

"Did you even bring your toothbrushes?" He knows for a fact they did not being that they weren't staying the night.

The twins exchange looks before breaking into a goofy grin. Mrs. Min leans down next to her husband at the moment and draws her girls into a hug.

"Appa and I will bring you back something better than chocolate tonight, okay?" She kisses her daughter's cheeks and then stands up. "Be good."

"K..." The twins let out a small huff then turn to set their backpacks on the living room couch.

"Hey," Yoongi calls after them. "Where's my hug?"

You let out a snort when you see Eun-ji face her dad again, tongue sticking out. Her sister gives a similar attitude with her hands on her hips and scrunched-up face. These girls might be in elementary school now but boy, those teenage years are sure to be rocking.

"Turn." You hear Ari from across the living room. She's standing on the sofa with her small hands holding a chunk of your husband's hair.

"Like this?"

"No the other side."

With his legs crossed on the floor, Jungkook shifts his head toward your direction with widened eyes. At this point, most of his hair has been pulled back into tight braids and finished off with yellow and pink hair clips. The only section left to do now was the underside.

"How do I look?" he asks you.

"Oh, you look breathtaking honey." You feel a soft makeup brush swipe across your cheek, courtesy of Eun-ji who's decided you needed a 'makeover'. You're not sure if that means a seven year old cramped on your style or what, but either way, you're getting bronze cheeks and glittery eyeshadow.

It's only been half an hour and the twins were already making you and your husband do their utmost bidding.

"Ari honey," you coo. "You should become a hairstylist when you grow up. You're doing such a good job with Uncle Jungkook's hair."

"I know," she sasses. "I'm good at this stuff Auntie. Everyone says that I am the queen of doing hair."

You and Jungkook giggle from the small child's gumption. It's good she's confident, you mouth to your husband.

He nods back. "Eun-ji's doing a great job too. You should see the glitter she's chosen for you."

"Not yet Uncle Jungkook," Eun-ji pipes up. "She can't look yet. It's a surprise!"

"Ah okay." He throws you playful eyes, eyebrows bouncing up and down suggestively. "A surprise huh?"

You flutter your eyes closed when you see Eun-ji dab her palette and reach forward to paint the eyeshadow over your lids. "Yup." she nods her head. "I'm giving Auntie the best color ever."

"Wow I can't wait to see honey," you say. "This wouldn't happen to be your favorite color would it?"

The tease in your tone makes Eun-ji grin. Of course, you can't see it but Jungkook can and it causes him to break out into a boisterous chuckle.

"You're so cute Eun-ji," he says, clapping his hands together.

"What about me?" It's Ari's sassiness making a comeback as she pushes the final yellow clip into Jungkook's hair.

"You're cute too Ari." You reassure the child and open your lids once Eun-ji gives you the okay. Not a second following that you're thrusted forward a hand-held mirror.

"What do you think?"

You glance at yourself in the reflection, blush blue eyeshadow that covers up to your eyebrows and bronze blush. You have ruby red lipstick on as well, Eun-ji's personal favorite.

"I love it, sweetheart. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." She gathers all the makeup containers and tools she can fit in her hands before making her way to your husband. "You're turn Jungkook."

"Okay, but can I pick what color this time?" Your husband smiles at the child with mirthful eyes.

"No." She sets the make-up in front of him and pops open a bright, Barbie pink lipstick.

"Anti-ti-ti-ti fragile, fragile!"

You watch from the kitchen as the twins jump around in the living room. After your makeover, the girls felt like a karaoke session was in order. They convinced Jungkook to join them so there he is with a microphone in his hand, belting the lyric of 'Antifragile' by LE SSERAFIM.

"Come on __!" Ari calls to you, breath heavy from all the rambunctious dancing. "Sing with us!"

You laugh and whisk the bowl of flour and sugar in front of you. "No you guys keep going. I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Doing what?" She runs up to the kitchen island where you stand, trying to peek inside the bowl.

"I'm making cookies."

"Really?" She rushes to the other side of the island to pull out the stool from underneath. Once she settles herself in the chair she looks at you with eagerness. "Can we eat them?"

"Hmm..." You pretend to think. "Didn't your dad tell you no?"

"Yeah, but you always give us sweets. Even if he says we can't have them."

The child has a point.

"How about this, if you help me make these you can eat them. But you can't tell your dad okay?" Ari nods. "Good, you can stir this for me while I crack some eggs."

"Just what are you doing?" You jump when Jungkook walks up behind you. "You wouldn't be giving these sweet girls something their parents told them they could have, would you?"

"Dad will be really mad if he finds out," Eun-ji joins in on the scolding. She turns down the music from the tv and folds her arms.

"Well I–"

"If you're going behind Yoongi hyung's back you're going to need some help, honey." Jungkook slides one of the kitchen draws open and reaches to take out a small plastic bag. He throws out two brand new kid-size toothbrushes, orange and blue. "Had a feeling we'd need these tonight after seeing you stock up on all that chocolate today."

"Now girls..." He turns to look at Ari and Eun-ji who seem to be busy mixing the bowl of flour and sugar together. "Hey girls."

They lift their heads.

"Make sure to brush twice before your dad gets back. This stays our little secret, understand?"

"Okay," they say in unison.

"Thank you Kook." You lean your head against your husband's firm chest, resting for a moment. This whole situation is kind of funny if you think about it. But you really hope you don't get beef from Yoongi later.

"Anything for you," Jungkook quips and kisses your head gently.

"Ew..." You hear Ari say.

"No it's not," Eun-ji bites back. "It's romantic, like the movies."

Ari scrunches her face at her sister. "No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"Nope."

You and Jungkook wait for the two of them to simmer down but they keep going at it. Yes, no, yes, no...back and forth until one of them scoops up a handful of the flour in the bowl and tosses it at the other.

"Uh okay, no more! No more." You and Jungkook lunge forward to sweep the bowl out of their reach.

"How about you let Auntie and Uncle finish making the cookies and you two go back to karaoke?" Jungkook successfully persuades the twins and they run back into the living room in search of the next biggest hit to jam to.

You lock eyes with Jungkook now, wordless.

"Hm?" He hums at you.

"Mm." You shrug your shoulders and move towards the fridge but not before you're flicked with some of the flour yourself–your husband's hand powdery from the mixture. "Kook!"

You wipe your face, and light laughs fall from both your lips.

"Okay girls, get brushing!" Jungkook guides the twins to the bathroom. "Your parents are going to be home in fifteen minutes and that means these teeth need to smell like nothing my fresh mint." He squeezes the toothpaste on each girl's brush.

"Bursh, brush, brush," he chants and you shake your head as you wash the cookie sheet in the kitchen sink.

The twins have eaten about three cookies each and with chocolate stains all over their faces, they're going to need more than a 2-minute teeth brushing.

"Honey, I'm cracking the windows open and lighting my candles." Jungkook rushes around the house in search of his vanilla bean scents.

"I don't think that's going to take away the smell in such a short time. We should probably just take the beating Kook," you holler back.

"Oh, we're definitely getting dragged out tonight." He yanks the candle jars open and lights them. "The smell of freshly baked cookies is still too strong to hide but I'm hoping these candles will act as a distraction."

You hit your husband with the kitchen towel, the snap of it making him throw you a startled look. "Shit–do you not see the lighter in my hand?"

You roll your eyes. "Relax drama queen, you didn't have it ignited yet. Anyway, the candles aren't necessary if we're opening all the windows."

"It'll help though."

"Not really."

"Well, I think they will."

Jungkook goes back to lighting his candles and once he has the twentieth one lit, he's thoroughly pleased with himself.

As soon as the twins finish cleaning themselves up, they help scatters them throughout the house, leaving them in as many corners with surfaces as possible.

"Okay, that's it! That's the last one." Jungkook high-fives the twins and you toss the last dish in the drying rack.

"Good job team." You laugh and join them in the living room.

Eun-ji plops herself on the sofa with her backpack in her lap. "I had a lot of fun tonight."

Ari joins her on the couch with her own backpack in hand. "Me too." She pauses and then says something that you and Jungkook were very much underprepared for.

"You would make good mom and dads."

"You think so?" Jungkook shocks you by responding first.

Ari nods. "If you had kids, we could all play together. And we can have all the cookies we want because we'll be best friends. And best friends share everything!"

"So you want Auntie and I to have kids so you can keep hiding cookies from your dad?" Jungkook lunges forward to tickle the child mercilessly. "You little cookie monster!"

Ari rolls around on the couch, giggling repeatedly. You can't help but feel the thumping of your heart as you watch the scene unfold. And for the slightest moment, you imagine what it would be like with your own child.

All those thoughts are put to an abrupt end however when the doorbell rings.

Jungkook flies to the door to let Yoongi and his wife in. He flashes you a little smile before opening it, ensuring you that whatever happens he's got your back.

"Were you guys baking in here?" Are Yoongi's first words as he and the Mrs step inside the entryway of your house.

"Um, no? No, I don't think so." Jungkook feigns ignorance. "It must be coming from our neighbor's house."

With the twins home with their parents, you and Jungkook curl up together in your bed. You nuzzle your head in his inner shoulder and his arm holds around your waist.

"Those girls are a lot," Jungkook says. "But you know, I have to agree with them this time–it was kinda fun."

"Yeah?" You aimlessly trace circles on his chest.

"Still crazy, but yeah. I felt like I had a lot of good energy inside me tonight. And you know something else?" He looks down at you.

"What?"

"We'd make pretty damn good parents."

You bolt up from your reclined position the second the words drop.

"You can't keep doing this to me Jungkook," you say, your hands gripping the soft comforter. This isn't the first time he's teased you with having a baby and every time he does, you don't know what to take it as.

Is it a joke, is he serious, or just talking?

"You know how I feel and–"

"Hey." Your husband leans up to stroke your back with warm hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry honey. I don't mean to confuse you. I really am thinking about it you know? With everything that's been going on with my parents lately, I know I've been hard to pin down but I really am serious when I say we'd make good parents. Or when I say we might have a possible baby to make one day."

"Might. Could make. Maybe." You stare straight at your husband. "I know you're warming up the idea but you're still talking in such vague terms. I'm not at all trying to rush us to decide on a baby or not. But I just don't want to get a false sense of hope...that you'll say yes."

"Come here." He draws you into an embrace and kisses your cheeks, both of them. "I'm sorry for being an idiot. I admit the first few times I was more loose with what I was saying than I should have been. But I swear I, it was never my intention to be leaving you guessing. I'm so sorry."

"I just want to know what you really think Kook. So I can be sure where you're at through this whole thing. The last few days have thrown a wrench at us with all the stuff your mom's been doing. But I'd still like to be in the loop of things."

"Yes, of course. I'm going to tell you everything right now okay?" Jungkook takes a breath. "I want to give you a baby so bad and I think I'm 70 percent there. But I'm also 60% not there because I'm terribly scared that once it happens, once we have a baby...that I'll revert back to my original mindset of not wanting one."

"Kook–"

"Hold on a second."

You close your mouth and allow him to continue.

"I've already started seeing and feeling being around kids differently than before. So much so that I think we could be happy if we started a family together because I'm so happy when I'm with you. And if there's anyone I could do that with, it'd be you and only you. So yes, I want us to have a baby, as many as you want, but I want to be 100% there first."

"Okay, that's fair. I'm not going to lie that I don't feel a little out of body from what you just said. Just to clarify, you're saying yes to how many babies?" You shine your eyes at him. "You said you want to give me as many babies as I want right? How many would that be?"

"My limit is yet to be determined." He grins at you. "It seems I might need to repeat some things if all you got out of what I just said is that I'll give you as many babies as you want."

"No, actually." You grip his hand. "I heard what you said and thank you. I feel a lot better knowing your thought process through this whole thing. We both need to be 100 % in before deciding on this next step in our lives. And about you being worried that you'll revert back to not wanting children. I'm no expert but I don't think that'll be true given your recent exposure with kids has made you feel better than worse. You said it yourself–you had a lot of good energy inside you tonight."

"True. You make an excellent point there. I think I still need some more time though. I was even thinking that maybe I'll....talk to Hoseok about this."

"I'm glad to hear that Kook. Hoseok is an amazing man and I know talking to him about all this will be nothing but beneficial for you."

"Thank you for being patient with me." Jungkook pulls you both down on the mattress, closing his eyes when his head hits the pillow.

"Same to you." You snuggle back into his chest. "I really hope we can have a family together."

"Me too," you hear him mumble before you close your own eyes.

A/N: Yup I told you this would be a long one. Ty for sticking with me! Also, what do you think? Was it a first date or not? LMK your thoughts 🥰

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[jamespottersdaisy]

A man without love

Peter Parker x fem!reader

|1.4k|

a/n: just a fluffy banter during a cozy night

song choice has absolutely no relation to the fic whatsoever, i just listened to it the whole time and liked lmao. dedicated to my baby jay @hollandweather

Moonlight to show the way so we can follow

Waiting inside her eyes was my tomorrow

Then something changed her mind, her kisses told me

I had no loving arms to hold me

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

Somewhere amidst the mellifluous melody, the door clicks, and you know Peter is home. 

You’ve been captivated in your book for far too long to notice the hour; quite late, might I add. It must have been a rough night for him to decide to stay past two in the morning for patrol.

You grab your phone and toss it between the pages as a bookmark before hopping on your feet.

“Nice song, baby,” Peter murmurs as he dawdles to your room, leaving its door agape. You wager he is changing to something much more comfortable than that suit of his but still barge in the room nonetheless. “How was the night, big guy?”

You catch a few discoloration on his skin as his bare torso moves around beside the bed. He glances at you sidelong, swiftly hauling a grey shirt on. “Smashing success. No criminals left around.”

He might have rushed to shroud his skin with cloth from you, but you are shrewd enough to match his furtiveness. No chance he is hiding those tiny injuries from you. Perhaps he has a good reason to do so– such as the look on your face when you see him hurt– but still, not good enough of a reason to deny you. 

“Lemme see,” you clutch the hem of his shirt to lift it up, only for his hand to grab yours to parry.

“On my period, sorry, beautiful.” His eyes may be drooping from exhaustion, yet his smirk is as smug as always while you glower daggers at him.

“Let me see, Peter.”

“That’s harassment.”

“There’s something purplish on your back,” you try harder, but he is stronger.

“You’re delusional.”

“I know what I saw, quit gaslighting me.”

“Gaslighting is not real. You’re crazy,” Peter shakes his head.

“Are you hiding hickeys of trysting?” you jeer, making him chuckle and release your hand from his at last. 

“Nope, don’t have time for that,” he shakes his head gallantly. “Just bruises of valour.”

Which simply earns a mocking scoff from you.

You don’t see or feel his amorous gaze on you as your fingers trace the new bruises. They’ll heal, you know they will, and still, you want to kiss every one of them into evanescing.

“How was your night?” he whispers, bringing his hand to your hair and pushing a strand behind your ear. 

“Better than yours, apparently,” You now touch the small nick on his jaw tenderly and turn around to get a band-aid from the nightstand.

His eyes follow your movements around, gears working in his brain. “Please, not the pink one–” he calls when you grab a band-aid.

Too late. You are already springing back with a wide grin. “Pink one!”

“Not the pink one…” he closes his eyes in disdain as you strut back to his side and place a screaming pink plaster on his jaw.

He looks down in your eyes as you check his handsome face, clearly proud of your work. “I look so manly.”

“Most manliest you ever looked.”

“Wanna get in the bed with me?

“You’re on your period, Peter.”

He laughs and turns around before throwing himself into the bed. “C’mon, take your book and the music and come here.”

I cannot face this world that's fallen down on me

So if you see my girl, please send her home to me

Tell her about my heart that's slowly dying

Say I can't stop myself from crying

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

When you sit on the bed, legs crossed with your book on your lap, Peter takes your phone, restarting the same song. He averts his eyes to your book. “Anything new?” 

“Oh, yeah, you’ve missed so much,” your eyes widen with excitement, and Peter’s smile widens intuitively. “I don’t even remember where you left off.”

“The girl’s memories got stolen,” he reminds you. “Want me to braid your hair?”

“I get so sleepy when you do that,” you shake your head and open the book to go through pages with hopes of remembering what you’ve read since Peter left.

“I should hope so, do you know what hour it is?”

“But I’ve missed you,” your head snaps up, and Peter narrows his eyes. His hand is already up in your hair, playing and caressing the locks gently. “Liar. You’ve been reading that book since I’ve left home.”

“And two hours before that,” you lean into his touch.

“You’ve officially lost the right to complain about your headache,” He props up in bed, switching to a more suitable position for easier access to your hair.

“I will do it regardless.”

‘I know you will,” his long fingers take three strands, and you are already feeling sleepy. “Now, please, tell me what happened after the poor girl lost her memories.”

You pause for a minute, mustering all the plot you’ve consumed to drain. As you remember the things the poor main character went through, your blood pressure soars, eyes widen and voice raise. “They lied to her! Can you believe that?”  you exclaim, at which Peter raises his brows in happy bewilderment. “God, I hate her mother so much!”

“Stepmother. Go on,” He interjects before passing to another strand of hair and dividing it into three. “What about her situationship?”

“He is not her situationship, Peter–”

“I mean, they flirt about killing each other, sleep together, but they’re not together.”

“That’s sexual tension and slow burn,” you scowl. Peter lets go of another newly done braid.

“Yep, that’s what I said,” he nods, caressing your cheek with his thumb. ”Situationship. What happened to him?”

That’s when you straighten your back, and Peter rolls his eyes. He never was fond of the male main characters of the books you’ve read. No matter how they looked and what they did, you always seemed to be infatuated with them.

“He was looking for her, and he found her and he freaked out when she didn’t remember her–” You start babbling about the male lead, but Peter is not amused.

“Breathe.”

“But he could not openly tell her everything, it would freak her out, so he–”

“Still not breathing, beautiful.”

“Stop interrupting,” you wave off your hand.”So he lied about who he is to gain her trust and–”

“He’s such a liar, what do you even see in him?”

“He’s hot,” you lightly slap his chest to stop him from cutting off your every word. 

“He is short, but sure, go on,” Peter grabs you by the arm and yanks you closer to his chest. 

This is his favourite time of the day, and you are always too busy to see it. Your voice echoes around the room, albeit he forgets most of the things you are saying by the morning. What matters is that you are talking. To him. With him. 

“Doesn’t matter, still hot,” You nuzzle against his chest, feeling his hands roam around your hair and back. It’s dizzying and yet the most comforting feeling you’ve ever felt. “So, they start spending time behind her mother and slowly grow a bond.”

“There we go, she’s gonna take forever to trust him again,” Peter’s tone is already lowered, welcoming you into a place of drowsiness. Both of you in your pyjamas, tangled together under a blanket that Peter wrapped around you. 

“So, you wouldn’t wait and fight for my love even if it took forever?” your words are heavy, and your voice is slumberous. Peter smiles down at your hooded eyes and rests his chin against yours.

“Baby, you didn’t acknowledge your feelings for me for six months.” He is right. You fought a lot to not ruin the friendship at first.

“I still could have taken my time,” you mumble, eyes closed. “Act oblivious to your flirting.”

“I could not be clearer that I was flirting,” he chuckles slowly, taking the book away from you and placing it on the counter. “And I would’ve waited another six months.”

“You would get bored.”

“Of you? Never,” is all that is said before you doze off and he shuts off the lights.

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Knowing that it's cloudy above

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Knowing that it's cloudy above

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

thank you for reading! let me know if you liked it!!!! love you guys so much!