#getting a call from dish like did u know everything's fucked

[fooltofancy]

oh, it's fucked fucked.

[moonstruckme]

soft sirius x reader pleasee 🙏🙏 either established relationship or fwb/friends to lovers vibes you decide

Thanks for requesting!

modern au

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

“You ought to start locking the door,” Sirius calls out as he enters your flat. You tug out one earbud to hear him better. “I could be a serial killer.” 

“Right, sure,” you snark lightly, washing dishes double-time. “And you ought to start calling before you come by, but we both have our bad habits.” 

“Like you’d pick up if I did.” He saunters into the kitchen, taking in the mess and then pretending not to notice. He leans against the counter beside where you’re working. “I just thought I’d drop in and see if you have a bit of free time.”

“A bit?” you laugh. “Looking for a quickie, Black?” You stack more dishes on the drying rack, jolting forward to steady them when a bowl on the top threatens to tumble. “Sorry, no time. The kitchen’s been a mess for days, I have to clean up before my flatmate gets home from class and murders me.” 

“But she seems like such a nice girl,” Sirius muses, taking the precarious bowl and drying it with a towel. “Anyway, doesn’t your flatmate’s last class end at, like, six? It’s hardly three.” 

“It’s weird that you know that.” It’s not, really. You know a freakish amount of details about his life, too, but it’s easier to keep up the casualness of this arrangement if you pretend you’re not quite as close as you are. You go into the living room, collecting dirty dishes and talking whilst you walk. “She does, but I have to revise my essay, and if I don’t get this done before I start on that, it won’t be finished before she gets home. I’ll forget, I know it.” 

“Hm.” Sirius takes the kettle down from its cabinet, nudging you aside to fill it from the tap. “Why do you have to revise your essay tonight?”

“Because it’s due in three days,” you explain, taking his place at the sink as soon as he’s out of the way to dunk more dishes in the soapy water. “And I have another essay due in four days, so if I don’t work on this one now, I won’t have enough time to finish that one. And besides those, I’ve got my regular work to keep up with.” 

Sirius is quiet for half a second, which is unusual enough that you look over to check that he’s still here. He’s giving you a look you know too well, one dark brow and one corner of his mouth quirked up suggestively. “Sounds like you need to blow off some steam,” he says. 

You try to scoff, but it comes out a snort. “Oh, fuck off. And quit looking at me.” 

You don’t look up from your task this time, a particularly stubborn piece of food requiring your attention, but you can tell Sirius is pouting at you from just his voice. “A cruel demand, and one I can’t abide by. Sorry, gorgeous.”

“Freak.” You continue scrubbing at the dish. Finally, you give in, using your fingernail to attack the crusted-on piece of mystery food and doing your best to ignore the grossness of it. It comes off, but your nail breaks. “Damn it!”

“Hey.” The teasing tone drops from Sirius’ voice. “Take it easy, dollface. You’ve got time.”

It doesn’t feel like you have time. There’s been alarm bells going off in your head since you’d woken up on Monday morning and realized all you had to do this week, and there’s no time for any of it. There’s a dangerous pressure building behind your eyes, but if there’s one thing you definitely don’t have time for, it’s a breakdown. You force a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. 

“I know,” you tell Sirius. “Thanks.”

“Maybe you should take a break,” he suggests lightly. 

You cut a knowing look his way. “I do not have time for a shag right now, Sirius.”

He grins, showing his teeth. “Not what I was thinking of, but as always, let me know if you change your mind.” You roll your eyes, and his smile drops. “Just, like, an actual break. You seem kind of stressed.” 

“I am,” you say, like duh, “but I don’t have time for a break either. I’ll be less stressed when everything is done.” You just have to make it until then. 

Sirius goes quiet again, but you don’t bother wondering about it this time. It’s fine if he’s worried about you. You want him to be, a little bit. You want someone to see how hard you’re trying, even if it doesn’t look like your efforts are producing much. You’ll wash the dishes, and your flatmate will still be annoyed you’d let them pile up in the first place. You’ll turn in your essays, and they’ll be just okay enough to pass. You can work all day, from the second you wake up until you fall dead asleep, and sometimes it feels like it’s for nothing. But what’s the alternative? Stop, and watch your barely-together life fall apart completely? No, you just have to get through this week. Just this week, and then you can rest until the next hard week. 

You stack the last of the dishes on the drying rack, and your hand has barely left before the three on top slip off. You lunge forward on instinct, like you think you can catch them. You can’t. The crash is loud, but you barely hear it. You bring your hands to your face, cupping your mouth between your palms. Your horrified exhale blows hot air back onto your chin. 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Sirius’ voice is soft, as is his touch on your shoulder, encouraging you back from the glass shards. “You’re alright, just be careful, yeah?”

“Fuck,” you say, and you try to laugh, but what comes out is a dry sob. “Oh my god, fuck me.”

“I think we’ve agreed now’s not a good time,” Sirius jokes, taking a dish towel and using it to scrape together the bigger pieces. “Do you have a broom, love?” 

You shake yourself out of your stupor. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll grab it.” 

You step over Sirius, and he makes a half-suppressed sound of alarm when you come too close to the glass but takes the dustpan when you hand it to him. You sweep up the glass, going farther than necessary from the site of the damage to ensure no one ends up with an impaled foot later on. Sirius dumps it in the trash. 

“Thanks,” you tell him, trying to reorient. “Okay, I need to—”

“Oh, would you look at that,” Sirius cuts you off, going to the stove. “It appears I’ve put the kettle on. Must be habit. Sit and have a cup with me, doll?” You give him a look that says you know what he’s doing, and he shrugs like he doesn’t care. “Just for a few minutes. Please.” 

You relent perhaps too easily, picking out mugs for the both of you and accompanying him to the living room. You curl up against the armrest of the couch, and Sirius settles in next to you, his thigh touching your hip. They’re your usual spots, but what’s not as routine is the arm he wraps around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You sip at your tea as if you don’t notice. The warmth is soothing as it goes down your throat and seeps into your insides. Sirius turns on the TV, and it’s obvious by now that you’ve been lied to, he doesn’t intend to let you go after a few minutes, but you’re losing the will to hold him to it anyway. You let your head lie on his arm as he begins to trace slow, smooth shapes into your shoulder. 

And though it feels nice, you say, “I don’t need you to coddle me.” 

You feel Sirius shift to look down at you, and you tilt your head to meet his eyes. “But you’ll let me,” he says, “won’t you?” 

You don’t know how to answer that. Sirius doesn’t seem to be waiting for one, pressing a casual kiss to your head and then focussing back on the screen, his doodles on your shoulder never faltering. You rest your head on him again, and you suppose that’s answer enough. 

[loganwritesprobably]

– Sanji with the 2° genre, prompt (u.) 🍡

You know, I never would've paired this prompt with Sanji, but I think its more harsh nature pairs itself well with a masculine reader, so that's what I'll do! This ended up being pretty long so everything is under the cut

Since this is the first one I'll be posting like this I'll just explain - anything where you only requested one character, I assumed was to be paired with a Reader, since I struggled with making a lot of them work as a solo thing.

Content/warnings: Sanji/M!Reader, hurt/comfort, getting together, reader is insecure, Sanji is kinda cruel at the start whoops, Sanji has a gay awakening

You'd been acting off all day, you knew you had, and while the crew hadn't mentioned it you were aware they'd noticed and that they were beginning to worry. Generally, you kept in high spirits. Not today. It wasn't any much, your insecurities had just been getting to you lately. You also felt ridiculous for letting that spoil your mood all day, which was only making your mood worse. You were the least attractive person on the crew, in your opinion (outside of Chopper because who is calling a kid attractive). Most days, you let yourself be confident in the fact that it didn't matter because that didn't make you ugly and you had a good personality so why did looks matter. Some days it bothered you anyway.

You were docked at an island while the log pose set, and pretty much all of the crew had received attention from people (of their preferred gender and not), outside of Chopper, but again, he didn't count (and he'd still had a group of teenage girls call him cute). You? You'd not gotten a single comment or even a look. It just made your stomach twist. It was stupid and you knew it, but it was eating you up inside. Worrying about that just led to more worrying about other things and you were spiralling a little even if you were attempting to pretend you weren't. It wasn't working.

"What's your problem?" Sanji asked as he emerged from the kitchen having just finished cleaning all the dishes from lunch.

"I don't want to talk about it, Sanji." He'd not gotten much attention from women, but oh boy had Sanji gotten attention from men. He'd brushed every one of them off, rather unkindly, and that hurt too. You'd had a bit of a crush on Sanji for ages now, but moments like that told you that you couldn't ever share that fact with the cook.

"Then stop moping! It doesn't help anything, and it's not great for the mood on board." He retorted with a roll of his eyes, and you rubbed a hand over your face with a sigh. You didn't want to lash out, but you really didn't have the emotional availability to be kind in that moment.

"Sorry Sanji, my bad, I'll just pack it all up and ignore it all - God forbid I have fucking feelings." You snapped, pushing off the railing of the Sunny where you'd been leaving to walk away. You didn't want to deal with his shitty attitude today of all days.

-·—·-—-·—·-

You'd hidden away to calm yourself down, then taken a shower to release some of the negative feelings you'd had pent up. Residual negative emotions lingered, of course they did, but you were more prepared to push them aside and put on a happy face. You emerged on the deck and sat down with Robin to talk about the book she'd been reading, allowing yourself and your better mood to be more easily seen by the crew.

"What happened? You really looked upset." Nami asked after a few minutes, having come to sit in her usual spot beside Robin.

"Oh, nothing. Just had a chat with Sanji." You said with a shrug, smiling at them as best as you could.

"I hope you're not spoiling these ladies days with your foul mood." Sanji said as he appeared with two drinks, one for each of the ladies in question. Robin and Nami snapped their heads to look at him, unbelieving he could be so cruel.

"No don't worry Sanji - I took your advice and just got over it. Won't catch me moping again. I'll keep that to myself from now on." You replied, mock kindness on your face and in your voice. You weren't going to start an argument with him, but that didn't mean you couldn't be passive aggressive at least. He fixed a hard gaze on you, but kept his smile in place. Wisely, he said nothing, and left the drinks for Nami and Robin before swiftly returning to the kitchen.

-·—·-—-·—·-

You spent the rest of the day avoiding Sanji, even having asked Robin to save you a plate of food so you could eat away from the rest of the crew and mainly away from Sanji. She'd delivered your plate loyally, and just gave you a smile before leaving you to eat in peace.

Eventually though, the plate did need to be returned to the kitchen. It'd long since gone dark, and you were just hoping that Sanji was elsewhere by now.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," you heard muttered from the kitchen, pausing outside to listen to whoever was so frustrated inside, "can't even be nice just for once. He just makes me so-" it was Sanji, of course it was. You weren't sure what else you'd been expecting. But he was in there, scolding himself, and it sounded like he was doing it over how he'd treated you.

You didn't knock, just pushed open the door and let yourself in, plate still in hand. Sanji stopped stock still, staring at you as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. You gently set the plate down on the table, pausing for a moment before turning as if to leave again.

"Wait-" Sanji called out, making you pause. There was another beat of silence while the cook found his words.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, hesitating before continuing, "I was unnecessarily cruel. You didn't deserve that."

"Yeah." You simply said, because just saying that wouldn't make him forgiven. You'd never done anything to him, you'd both just always had a joking friendship, where you'd take playful jabs at each other. They were never genuinely cruel.

"I just-" he paused again, fighting with himself to find his words, "you make me.. feel a lot of things that I don't know how to deal with. I just look at you and it all.. bubbles up inside of me and for some reason the only thing that ever gets out is something mean. What I said earlier was too far, and I am sorry. I was just worried." He finished, and you finally turned to face him. Sanji was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was fighting not to put them elsewhere - his hair your brain helpfully supplied.

"Okay," you started, nodding slowly, "but that isn't a good reason. You didn't even try to get me to tell you. You didn't probe at all, you were rude when you asked what was wrong and then accused me of ruining the atmosphere on the Sunny. That's what you told me and best you can come up with is you were 'feeling a lot of feelings'?" You asked, growing more and more angry, but also more upset. You knew you couldn't have Sanji the way that you wanted him, but you'd at least wanted him as a friend. Maybe that was too much to ask for.

"I'm sorry! I'm not good with words - I can't make my brain tell my mouth what I'm thinking and I really want to help you understand even if you don't forgive me." You would forgive him, you knew you would, this would be petty to lose him over and would jeopardise the crew. But you couldn't be the same after this.

"Try."

"It's different than with other people. You feel- you make me feel different. I don't understand why. I just look at you and it's like.. the whole world stops moving for a minute," Sanji leaned forward, resting his hands on the table and stared right down at the wood rather than looking at you, "I've never felt like that before. It's scary. How am I meant to deal with something I don't understand? So I'm mean to you instead because maybe then it'll go away? I know it sounds stupid. And then when we're out and people look at you.. something just comes over me. I hate it. I just glare at them until they back down because they're not allowed to look at you like that."

You understood suddenly what Sanji was talking about. All this time you'd been so sure of what you couldn't have and in the background Sanji was having his gay awakening because of you. You were desperately trying to hold back, but you couldn't help laughing. He shot up straight as if he'd been struck, wounded by your laughter.

"I'm sorry- I know this is serious. I promise I'm not laughing at you, just the situation really. Sanji.. you have a crush on me. That's what that is." You told him, slowly approaching to close the space between you two.

"No! I- I like women." He defended, but he was hesitant, as if your words had given him clarity.

"Sure. But you also like me."

The two of you stood, silent, staring at each other. You, waiting for Sanji to decide what the next move was, and Sanji, processing the new information. In retrospect, he realised it was a little obvious.

"I acted like a little boy pulling on a girl's pigtails." Sanji muttered, suddenly a little humiliated.

"Yeah, a little bit." You agreed, and the cook just sighed. You both fell into quiet laughter finally, the tension of the entire situation drifting away.

"So uh.." Sanji started after a while, you let him find his words before responding, "what now?"

"That's up to you. I've liked you back for a damn long while now, but you've only just realised. You can go and take your time to process that new part of yourself if you w-" you didn't get to finish your sentence before Sanji's lips were on yours for the first time.

Yeah, now you definitely wouldn't be the same after this.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[2knightt]

hiii I was wondering if u could do smth for the outsiders? Like Darry has a s/o who is the mother figure for the gang and often Johnny n pony call her ma / mom? I js thought it was sooo cute but if not it’s also okay dearrr

darry curtis x motherly!reader

!warnings!

1.fem!reader

2.swearing

3.probably ooc LMFAO

darry would literally love you. oh my god.

you’re caring???? you help take care of the gang??? you help ponyboy with homework???

you might as well rip his heart out of his chest cause it’s already yours!

the gang loves you, probably even more than darry does!

but to darry, that’s impossible.

you’re heaven sent to him. he truly believes you’re a miracle!

when he’s stressed out, you’re right there to help him destress!

giving him a massage, giving him tea, shit maybe even all of the above if you feel like it.

“jeez dare, stop overworking yourself so much! you’re gonna die some day because of it!”

“no i won’t, been doin’ it for so long i’ve gotten used to it.”

“thats even worse!!”

when you cook for him he will GOBBLE it up.

homie can taste the love you put in and he thinks it makes the food taste 100x better.

but even you have stressful days! but, expect darry to treat you like a princess!

he will not let you leave his bed, he is getting everything you want.

water? done. a book? already in your hand. a fucking car? he’s wasting all his money for you!

he will follow you to hell if you ask him nicely.

he just loves you so much.

when he somehow get’s hurt in rumbles he’s so glad you’re there to patch him up.

but he isn’t glad that he gets an earful from you.

“you know i hate these things. why do you out of all people go darry? you’re better than this.”

he just grumbles because he doesn’t even want to answer anything with a black eye that’s slowly forming on his right eye.

the gang is so thankful that you can patch them up too. they sometimes fight over who you’re gonna help next.

“i’m goin’ after darry!”

“SODA! YOU’VE GONE SECOND FOR LIKE 3 TIMES IN A ROW. IT’S MY TURN!!”

“PISS OFF TWO-BIT.”

“actually it’s my turn.”

“shut the hell up steve.”

“AYE!”

ponyboy’s just happy he has a mother figure in his life again. his mom was definitely his favourite parent, so now that he has someone to replicate that, he’s on the moon.

he only calls you mom or ma in private, he’s too embarrassed to say it with others in the room.

BUT, he definitely lets the mom calling slip accidentally infront of the gang.

“mom, do you need help with the dishes?”

“MOM?!”

“WHAT?!?”

pony just looks down in embarrassment until you chuckle and agree to him helping you. then he’s all smiles and sunshine!

darry is so happy to see this you don’t get it.

darry asks for advice from you to get to know ponyboy better since he rambles on and on about whatever he’s most interested in at the time.

“so uh, about ponyboy…”

“oh! he really likes ‘gone with the wind’, i know you don’t have much time to read so, i can just tell you the important stuff!”

he just nods and stares at you as you talk about the characters, the main plot, and the small details ponyboy’s obsessed with.

he’s taking mental notes and thanking you heavily when you’re finished talking!

“thank you, y/n. really. i appreciate all you do for me.”

“awe! of course, babe. anything for you.”

he’s giggling and blushing at the last sentence

he’s so thankful that you’re there to talk some sense into the gang.

sometimes he sits on the sidelines and just watches.

“DALLAS WINSTON. WHAT ON GODS GREEN EARTH WERE YOU THINKING PULLING SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

“I’M SORRY! JESUS.”

dallas just throws his hands in the air in defeat, knowing that no matter how much he apologizes you’ll continue to scold him.

but he listens, he doesn’t do whatever he did for awhile.

darry just chuckles at the sight.

his mom used to scold dallas like that, so seeing you do the same brought back good memories for him.

being around you just reminds him of the ‘good old days’ so when he’s around you his mood immediately lifts.

like he could be yelling at ponyboy to raise his grades and you could walk in and darry would go “AND STUDY MO- oh hey babyyy!!☺️☺️”

everyone’s eternally grateful for you.

ESPECIALLY JOHNNY GOOD LORD.

he goes to you for literally everything.

something bad happened to him?? he’s at your front door! something good happened to him??? he’s right beside you telling you about it!

yeah, he calls you mom too.

he doesn’t mean to though! he just looks up to you so much, he’s always seen you has a mother figure but he never thought he’d actually call you mom!

“hey ma, does my hair look tuff!?”

“huh?”

he’s FROZEN in place. he’s so embarrassed, he’s literally overheating.

you just giggle to yourself and say his hair does infact, look extremely tuff.

he walks away smiling with a little hop when he walks.

the gang fights over your attention with darry.

they ain’t got a good life at home, but if you give them the motherly love they’ve been missing? they will kill someone for you.

darry loves and hates this.

he loves that you and the gang get along. he can’t be with someone the gang doesn’t like, but he hates that they like you so much they talk to you 24/7.

he sometimes just snatches you while you’re talking to someone in the curtis house.

like you could be talking to sodapop and he’ll come behind you and grab you by the waist and carry you into his room.

all that while soda chases him down, yelling nonsense.

“DARRY! I WAS TALKING TO HER.”

“that’s crazy…”

overall, darry would definitely look for a mother-like lover.

he needs it fr🙏

author notes;

1.EVERYONE SHUT UP THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST I CANT

2.when i read dear i lowkey giggled and kicked my feet

3.should i make a taglist??!!???? would literally anyone like to be tagged in my outsiders fics?!!!????

4.i really hope i did this justice LMFAO

5.btw if you’ve DMed me im not ignoring you, im working up the courage to talk to you. im a very nervous person😭😭

may 11th, 2023. 10:18PM.

[adoristsposts]

Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat | Quinn Hughes

author's note; another song fuelled fic for quinny boy. based on ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by del water gap because i fell in love with it as quickly as i did with the oldest hughes brother summary; a casual hookup is enough for quinn. until he realises it isn't. word count; 0.9k warnings; slight nsfw, mention of drinking if u squint enough characters; Reader x Quinn Hughes

I do not want to fight this anymore I just want to lay back And watch you pin me to the bed

Quinn had never felt better than when he finally gave in. The two of you had taken the boat out before anyone else could ask to tag along. And now, as the sun hit your bare skin and turned you into a glowing deity, he only wanted to worship you. "Why are you staring at me like that?" You laughed. He turned red and shook his head like the dirty thoughts would fall out of it. "You checking me out, Hughes?" "Yeah." He admitted. You turned pink, "Do something about it, then."

I used to call you my best friend Way back before you were my everything Now I'm sucking your neck

They're just a friend, he had said so many times. Just a friend. A friend that he was totally obsessed with. Every thought he had was about you. It was far from fair. How was he supposed to tell people you were just a friend when you meant everything to him? He didn't voice this. Instead, he laid in bed with you. The only trace of him he could leave behind were hickeys. And he marked you with as many of them as he could. Mine. He wanted to tell the world. Mine, mine, mine. And the hickeys were the way to show it. Because you were his. Almost.

And you wrote my favorite song Now I'm fucked up and carrying on I do not know the words to it yet, oh

He was yours, too. He couldn't escape you no matter where he went. He was at the bar with his teammates. Fucked up beyond comprehension. And the song you had shown him yesterday when he had driven you home and you had asked him to come in came on. The lyrics were so familiar, but he didn't know them. You would know them. He should tell you to come here. To hear your new favourite song, to see him. He should call you. "Hi." A girl in front of him giggled. He tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Hey."

And you're not my protector I hope you know it wasn't her That kept me off your side of the bed, oh

"Brock told me you met someone the other night." You said as you handed Quinn his plate. "Oh." He replied like an idiot. He couldn't think of anything better. "I called you that night." You stated. "Oh." He said again. He wanted to cry. He hadn't even touched her that night. Hadn't wanted to tarnish his body with the feeling of her when all it ever wanted to feel was you. "So was she pretty?" "Who?" "The girl, Quinn." You laughed. Like it was so casual. Like the two of you were still friends, and you were wondering about his latest date. Prying for details so you could make sure she was the one for him. "She was fine, I guess." He told you.

You're in his living room And it may not mean much you But your plates are in his sink And your sweater's on his bed Won't you text me when you're home? My baby, spare me all the rest

Quinn wanted to throw up. He stared at the text. Over at a guy's house. He's washing the dishes. Scary! He couldn't think straight. Your dishes should be in his sink. Your shirt was still on his bedroom floor where you had left it the other day. Text me when you get home safe. He sent back.

Please just tell me That nobody else touches you like I do Oh tell me that nobody else touches you like me

You two were together again. Bodies becoming one tangled mess of limbs and love. "Tell me" He mumbled against your lips, "Tell me no one touches you like I do. Come on, baby." He coaxed. "Quinn," You moaned breathlessly, "No one. Only you."

And it hits me I don't want anybody else touching you Like I do Like I do Like me

When you were done you curled up on his chest. Wearing his Canucks shirt and a pair of his old shorts. He couldn't shake the thought that you had slept with that other guy. Couldn't stop himself from hating the idea of it. He wanted to be the only person that touched you. That got to love you. It felt unnatural that anyone else could do it if they wanted to. If you wanted them to.

Is it okay? That I don't want Anybody else touching you like I do Like I do Like me

"Be with me," Quinn whispered into your hair. You looked up at him. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and he realised that maybe his declaration of love should have been more poetic. "What?" You asked. "Be with me. Like, officially." Because he couldn't come up with anything poetic. All he could do was breathe in your scent and hope you'd agree and he'd get to hold you forever. "Quinn." You said softly. For a moment he thought you'd say no. But then a smile uncurled on your lips and you kissed him. "Yes. God, yes."

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x reader - celebrations

Hello! I see u asked for some requests. Perhaps celebrating a birthday with Negan when everyone else forgot because they all were busy? Thanks in advance! - @happygirl-0408 💜

You didn’t have long to work, you had been doing this all day, but between sneaking around from the other savours, to trying to gather everything you needed it was hard.

But you were nearly done, maybe it wasn’t the best, you didn’t exactly have all the perfect ingredients but you had the basics.

You quickly rushed from your room to the other one, setting down the plate as carefully as possible.

Pulling out a box of matches, you set them down next to it, along with a very old and slightly broken box.

Again, it wasn’t the best, but it worked.

You quickly ran out room as you heard on your walkie that Negan and a few others had come back, and you made your way back into your own room.

You began to wash everything, drying and putting all the dishes away back where they had come from.

Sitting in your chair, you kicked your feet up on the table, turning your TV on.

You weren’t sure if it was going to be linked back to you, but you were doing your do everything you could to make sure it seemed like you hadn’t left the room all day.

You weren’t sure how he was going to react, if you were sure that he was going to be happy, you would’ve done it in person, but you didn’t want to be there if it pissed him off.

You grabbed your iPod and put your headphones in, picking up a book so you didn’t have to listen to the chatter on the walkie.

You hummed along to the music, happily enjoying the peace that you had.

You were lost in your own world, you didn’t hear the knocking at your door, the calling of your name on the walkie, or the fact that your door was even opened.

“Do you think it’s funny to be ignoring everybody?” Negan snapped.

He stopped, finding you in the chair, reading peacefully.

You had music playing that loudly that he could hear it from the door.

Stepping further in, he closed it, leaning against it as he just watched you with a little smirk on his lips.

You were known as the more ruthless of his saviours, you had no quarrels in killing, or taking what you needed.

You ran a small but strong crew, and though you were ruthless you were always merciful to those that deserved it.

You were humming softly along to the song, not noticing he was there.

Negan looked around, picking up a bouncy ball you had on your desk, he tossed it on the floor, watching as it bounced back up, hitting your arm.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You hissed.

You slammed the book closed, taking your earphones out as you snapped your gaze to him.

Quickly you got up, getting down on your knee.

“Shit Negan I’m so sorry, I.. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Stand up.”

You quickly did as the man said, and he walked around your room, inspecting a few things that he came across.

“What did you do all day?”

“I uh… huh?” You asked confused.

“Well, we’ve been out all day. You’ve been inside, what did you do the whole time we were gone?”

You furrowed your brows a little in confusion.

“Not much, I slept, rested like the doctor told me.”

He hummed a little bit.

“But you didn’t go see the good doctor now did you (Y/N), not today.”

“I didn’t see the point in wasting time, he said just rest and it’ll heal fine.”

Negan walked over and you let him, not moving as he took your wrist, rolling up your shirt to see the dirtied and bloodied bandage.

You were cut by Michonne while protecting Negan, and it went pretty deep, you were lucky you still had an arm.

“You lying little fucker, you haven’t been to him in a long while.” Negan said lowly.

You tried to pull your arm back but he wouldn’t let you, he unwrapped the bandage, letting it fall to the floor.

“You tell me the truth this time, how did you rip your stitches, and who fixed them?”

You sighed heavily.

“I ripped them trying to shoot my gun, target practice. Went absolutely shit by the way, I didn’t hit one can. I fixed them, well, attempted to, I’m also not the best medic out there.”

“Doctor, now.” He growled.

“Negan it’s fine.”

The look he gave you made you quickly rush over to the door, heading down to medical so you could get your stitches fixed.

Negan stood next to you, watching carefully, tapping Lucille against the floor and it made you nervous.

You didn’t like it when he just watched, because you couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“Right, this time don’t try shooting until I give you the all clear, and you must see me daily or that will get infected.”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

You pushed yourself from the bed, making your way to the door, hands stuffed inside your pockets.

Negan followed after you, whistling slightly.

“Happy now?” You grumbled.

He carried on whistling, walking in front of you to make you stop.

“Follow me.”

He tapped Lucille on his shoulder, and that made your nerves pick even more, but you kept a poker face, not showing it.

You noticed where he was taking you, and you said nothing.

Negan swung the door to his room and gestured in so you walked in.

He walked in and closed the door, standing in front of him.

“Any idea how those got there?”

“No sir.”

Negan sighed heavily.

“Are we really going to go through this whole lying thing again (Y/N)? You know I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

Negan pulled a sheet of paper out his pocket, showing your name, your number and what you had taken.

“Crap…”

“So it was you!” Negan smirked.

You sighed, running a hand over your hair and you nodded.

“Yeah, okay, it was me. I didn’t know if you would be pissed or not so I just left it there for you.”

“Why?”

“Cause I remember you saying your birthday was around this time, everybody knows, everybody else seemed to have forgotten. Nobody deserves to have their own birthday forgotten Negan, especially not now.”

Negan nodded his head, setting Lucille down and he walked over to the table.

He pulled a chair out for you, letting you sit down first before he sat down as well.

“If we’re gonna do this we’re doin’ it right, that means you gotta sing.”

“Oh no, hell nah. I ain’t singing.”

“It’s my birthday, you have to sing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him a little which made him grin a little wider.

“You weasel.” You said.

“Ah, ah, remember who you’re speaking to honey, I’m still your leader.”

You stick your middle finger up at him and took the matches so you could light the candle next to the cake.

“I couldn’t find any good ones, and I didn’t want to ruin your cake with this one.”

“Just sing, let me hear that beautiful voice of yours.”

Negan leant back in his chair, smirking from ear to ear as you began to sing happy birthday to him, and when you were finished he blew out the candle.

Then he laughed.

“Shit, if I knew you were really gonna sing I would’ve gotten a camera.”

“You mean I didn’t have to?”

“Nah, I just wanted to see if you would.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him again.

“I’ll get you back for this, now open the present.”

He chuckled, grabbing the box he took the lid off it, he reached inside and pulled out a small wooden figure.

He carefully examined it, then pulled out the other item which was some barbed wire.

“I noticed Lucille was looking a little chipped, thought you could use some spare in case.”

He hummed, setting it down, and he picked up the wooden figure again.

“This me?”

“Yup. Took a long freaking time too.”

Negan smirked, leaning forward a little.

“Aw, so you think about me (Y/N)?” He teased.

You swore at him again, leaning back in your chair.

You didn’t say anything else to him, he got up, walking over somewhere and he came back.

He put a fork into cake, trying a little.

“Damn, this is good.”

“Thanks, I used to be a baker.”

Negan put the fork back into the cake, holding his hand under it and he walked over, holding it out to you.

You looked at him confused, but you knew he wasn’t going to back away so you opened your mouth, letting him feed you some of the cake.

You hummed a little, shrugging your shoulders.

“Not the best I’ve made but it’s decent.”

Negan set the fork down, holding his hand out, and you took your so he could pull you up.

He placed a hand on the side of your neck, running his thumb along your jaw.

He leant down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and he smiled softly at you.

“Thank you, really. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome… asshole…”

“Oh you’re really pushing it now, you know that?”

You grinned a little up at Negan.

“You wouldn’t do shit, you’d miss me too much. I’m the only entertainment in this crap fest.”

“Yeah, damn right you are hot shot.”

You sat back down and he smirked at you, sitting down as he carefully watched you.

Negan picked up the sculpture you had made for him, looking at every small intricate detail you had carved in the wood.

He could tell you took time and dedication to make it, adding everything from the detail in his jacket to the barbed wire on the bat.

Carefully setting it on the table, he glanced back at you as you watched something on his tv.

He hadn’t celebrated his birthday in so long, sometimes he’d forget that it was a thing, it was easy to do in these times.

But you didn’t.

Out of everybody, it was you that remembered him mentioning it in a drunk night meeting.

You had been preparing this, planning this for months, and it solidified his reasoning for trusting you.

You were his right hand for a reason, he would put his very life in his hands knowing you would keep it safe.

He turned to the tv.

“When’s your birthday?”

You looked at him before turning back to the Tv, resting your hand on the table.

“(Y/B/D). I don’t celebrate though.”

Negan nodded his head, copying what you did with your hand, and he pat yours a couple of times.

“Well, sucks for you I guess, we’re celebrating this year.”

[brattylikestoeat]

Bratty, can we be real for a second Re: older BW? I don’t know if you’ve noticed this too but some of them come in with rude, combative, rigid energy. Very nasty OR they think being nice or pleasant to you = coddling and think being “real” (rude does not equal real) is best..yet they look at us as the problems and complain that we don’t respect them. Lady, YOU wouldn’t respect that treatment yet you expect a great reception from us when u dish it out?

On the flip side, a lot of them are softer or nicer (you know, the way they said they wouldn’t be with us?💅🏾🤔 with boys/men and enable/coddle/forgive everything and do all sorts of things for them.

Not all of our older // elderly BW are like this but I’ve noticed a pattern with the ones I’ve come across.

I get that they’ve gone through things in their time and now that’s left them hardened and I don’t deny that…but they are able to place it to the side for the men folk………….doesn’t matter if it’s due to patriarchy/familial conditioning, etc. my point is they ARE capable of making adjustments but they CHOOSE (it’s a choice) not to. I’m tired of some of them.

Maybe that’s an unpopular opinion but I said what I said.

That isn’t an unpopular opinion. A lot of younger BW feel that way even if they won’t say it.

Older BW often take their pain and anger out on us and not the people it need to be directed at.

Some older BW are so deep in patriarchy it’s crazy. They uphold the same rules that they hated. They are such men pleasers that it’s often at the expense of other women, especially younger women.

My grandma knew I was being sa by a male relative and said nothing. Even tho she told me her story of being sa by a male relative.

My boss nitpicked everything I did, but let men slide. The same men that called her bitches and said they fucked her.

But I’m supposed to roll over and let it slide in the name of womanhood?

People no matter how they were raised, or what is going on in society know right from wrong. And they choose when and who gets a slide.

I’m happy the younger generation is trying to go against the grain and I wish them much success. I have written off most older women of all races.

It’s like telling young women to cover up, instead you need to tell the predator to leave.

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

the hierophant from the tarot prompts? (if u aren't taking prompts pls ignore ajkdhskjah)

the hierophant: community, learning, rituals; “We’ll always help each other out, right?”

A month later, voila! Have some Merrill goodness!

for @dadrunkwriting

-:-

Merrill bounces on her feet. Electricity buzzes under her skin like that really good Rivaini coffee Hawke has at the manor. Morning streams into her small cottage through the tiny windows, turning dust motes into magic.

Tonight is the night.

In a handful of hours, she would host a community dinner in the alienage, beneath the vhenadahl.

So what, she doesn't have a clan. She has Hawke, and all her friends, and her neighbors, and the strangers in the alienage (who, Merrill knows, think she's weird). That's okay, too. A clan can be made up of people who don't know you, who don't like you--that, Merrill knows too well.

But there is no time for sadness right now. Right now, there is a stew bubbling on her tiny stove, and honeybuns rising in the windowsill, getting ready to be baked to perfection.

A knock at the door comes. Sharp rapping, like a pattern. It is a pattern, she is delighted to notice, though she doesn't recognize it. It isn't Hawke's, at least, and Hawke was the only one that she told.

"Coming!" she calls, wiping her hands off on the apron she wears over her tunic and trousers before taking it off entirely. Maybe it's one of her neighbors. They're always nice, when they come to visit. Not that everyone does; sometimes, it feels like the elves of the alienage don't know what to do with her, being Dalish and different and all.

But there's no time for sadness right now, so she carefully tamps that thought down for another night and slips on her sunniest smile.

Isabela lounges against the doorframe when she opens the door. "Bela, what are you doing here?" Merrill asks. Her eyes fall to a wicker basket at Bela's feet. "What's that?"

Bela smiles, wide and bright, one that Merrill likes to think is made for her alone. "Well, kitten, I figured you might like some company. I'm not cooking, of course, but I did bring something. Mm, something smells delicious."

Merrill ushers her in and locks the door. "I'm working on my dishes for tonight's potluck. I'm so excited! I hope everyone will get some and like it."

Isabela drops off the basket onto the living room table and walks into the kitchen. She opens the pot, letting out a waft of fragrant steam. "I'm sure they will," she says, nodding thoughtfully. She eyes Merrill. "You know you have flour on your ass, right?"

"Nooo! I was being so careful," Merrill exclaims, dismayed. "I even wore an apron and everything." She sighs.

"On the plus side, now you could wear those cute leggings I got you last month."

Merrill smiles. The leggings in question are really cute, green and gold, styled like scales. "They'll make your ass look fan-fucking-tastic, kitten," Bela had said when she nicked them from the merchant's stall. Merrill hasn't had a reason to bring them out, letting them sit on the chair that took up a corner of her teeny bedroom.

"Well..." She chews her lip. Shrugging, Merrill says, "But what will I wear with them?"

Isabela's smile turns wolfish, and she waggles her brows suggestively. "Leave it to me."

She disappears into Merrill's bedroom without so much as a by-your-leave. Merrill's not alarmed; Bela's spent the night countless times after too many pitchers of ale and glasses of whiskey, after all. What's Merrill's is Bela's at this point.

Happily awaiting Isabela's suggestions, Merrill turns back to the stew. Chunks of potatoes and carrots mingle with cubed venison from a deer she and Hawke went hunting for earlier in the week. The rest of the deer is being cooked by her neighbor Eiloren, who has the biggest yard in the alienage (no mean feat!), and has set up a roasting spit. The whole alienage smells like sizzling fat. It makes her feel more at home here, like the old times with her clan--

"There's no time for sadness," Merrill says to herself quietly, and stirs the pot.

"What's in the basket?" she calls to Bela.

"Not sure; Hawke put it together. Hey, where'd you put that green and black shirt? Never mind, found it."

Merrill, her curiosity piqued, opens the basket and pulls out a note.

Here's something from our little family, it reads.

Nestled inside the basket lay a tin of fresh, herbaceous salve (for if you burn yourself baking, from Anders); a miniature journal decorated with forget-me-nots (from Varric, to record your new memories in); nestled in straw against the wall of the box stand two bottles of red wine, which Merrill knows are from Fenris (reluctantly, given at Hawke's insistence, she bets) without having to read it in the note. A folded paper pocket is found between the bottles with a beautiful necklace in it, with a pendant in the shape of what could be a goat, or maybe a halla. From Bela. Don't ask her where she got it.

And packed in straw and linen, she discovers when she finishes pulling everything else out, is a beautiful soup tureen, made of silver with colorful accents in the shapes of flowering vines, accompanied by a lacquered wooden ladle.

From me, the note reads, to serve your stew in.

"Oh, Hawke," Merrill sighs happily. She holds it to her chest, beaming. Her little family, her little clan. They care for her so much.

Bela comes out of the bedroom holding a few shirts. "These will work, kitten," she says confidently. "You'll be able to charm the pants off of whoever."

Merrill takes the clothes from her hands and puts them on the couch. "You all are so good to me," she says, slipping close to wrap her arms around Isabela's ribs.

"Well, yeah. You're one of us." Bela pats Merrill's back before similarly folding around her. She presses a kiss to the crown of her head, one that warms Merrill down to her toes.

There's no time for sadness, because her heart is just so full.

[marlowe1-blog]

Job Chapter 15

Oh fuck. Eliphaz the Temanite is Speaking Again

When last we heard from Eliphaz the Temanite, he was telling a man who had just lost everything all the toxic positivity cliches that you see on Facebook from your stupid friends. In this chapter, he sounds almost Christian.

No that's not a compliment. Christianity is a death cult that has been pushing its awful shit on the world for years. Whenever I see one of those polite homophobic statements like "I just don't approve of their lifestyle" or "I wish they weren't always pushing it down our throats" I agree and then add "We are talking about Christians, right?"

Eliphaz the Temanite begins this chapter by insulting Job. That seems to be the major theme of this book. Job says something that his friends don't like and his friends shoot back by calling him a wordy sinful jerk. So Eliphaz gives us that shit. Your own mouth condemns you - not I. Your lips testify against you.

In other words, everything Job says gets the tl;dr response. And then we get to the no man is without sin talk. Simply put, you must have done something to deserve this Job. (this is the one place where rabbis and Christians sound a lot alike. Only the rabbis are trying to say that Job did something wrong and Eliphaz is saying that EVERYONE is doing something wrong.)

Of course, this is still a Jewish book and the Jewish belief in sin and repentance still is "apologize and move on with your life" and not the abusive father viewpoint that Christianity pushes (if you want Dad to forgive you for not washing the dishes, then watch Dad kill his favorite), so even as Eliphaz has his say, he's still wrong. Just like those Cersei chapters in A Feast of Crows are not meant to be the author viewpoint.

And then we get the wicked man writhes in torment speech. That's pretty much where Eliphaz is going. The wicked man is always going to be vulnerable to robbers and retribution. The wicked man is basically Tony Soprano giving his last look in the last Sopranos episode. He is not going to build anything that will last. Nothing will last of him. He's just a shitty dude and that's that.

Even better he will wither before time and he never get away from himself. And I get it. That is comforting. I think of the evil motherfuckers who have died screaming. I think of Hitler shooting himself knowing that he lost and I think of Rush Limbaugh dying of cancer. I think of Trump just screaming into the void as his jail cell looms larger and I think about the billionaires who went smush in the submersible. Oh these are nice thoughts.

But what about the damage? What about the AIDS victims that Reagan let die? What about the victims of Hitler? What about the people who died under Trump? What about the workers who died because Andrew Carnegie didn't want people striking? And that sonofabitch still gets celebrated and there are still videos coming out from Prager U (a school even worse than University of Phoenix) praising that cunt.

How long before the wicked actually perish? Eliphaz is not as much of an asshole with his cute little aphorisms but at least he gives a nice little fantasy.

[parker-d-bloodrose]

This is going to be a long post about my day job.

You know until I worked in the back of the house in a restaurant I didn't quite really understand how hard this industry is. Like, the front of the house is uniquely stressful because of customer interactions, but back of house? I get it now. It takes a certain kind of brain to work back here and not lose it entirely. I worked 7:40 AM -6:00 PM Thursday because I'm a dishwasher and that shit fucking sucks when you're closing. But in my post work exhausted state I had a realization about the way a restaurant works. It is not too unlike a respiratory system. The plates are the blood of the industry. The prep cooks and line cooks are the lungs of the industry, and the food is the oxygen. The servers and bussers are the arteries, carrying the food and plates in and out. And then when the customers have eaten, it comes to the heart and liver of the restaurant - the dishwashers. They pump dirty dishes through and out come clean ones, ready to be circulated again. And like, this is not to say that any one job is more important than the others. They absolutely are not. They are all equally important. Your heart cannot function without the arteries. Your blood doesn't get oxygen without lungs. But I really just. Understand everything better than I did a week ago. Or hell, even when I was just a dumb ass early twenty something working in fast food. But I've come to appreciate all of my coworkers even more.

One of the bussers, let's call him J. I've known this man for three days. I would die for this man already. Thursday, J saw we were dying in the dish pit, the two of us who were working that day were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of dishes we had to do. J popped in to help us for about half an hour and we got close to being caught up. Then shit happened and we couldn't do dishes for a bit and all of that progress was lost. But like, J is constantly aware of how difficult our job is and isn't above giving the servers and bussers a "hey y'all are making dish work harder" talk. Today, as I was reapplying my bandages from the injuries I sustained from working here - a cut on my left palm and a blister on my right index finger - J stopped to check in and help me put them on. He asked if they had come from working here and I said yes and he apologized. This man, to my knowledge isn't even a manager and he's apologizing for injuries I have. But he looks out for us dishwashers. I wish I knew him a bit better, and I probably will.

My fellow dishwashers, we'll call them U, A, S, and N. They're wonderful people. S & N are the only others I personally know who speak English. Great guys. S always sings a few lyrics from songs he's listening to and he has a great voice. N likes to talk. I don't mind it too much. He is a bit rough but he's new and stressed, but he's overall pretty friendly. I & A speak Spanish. They both know a little bit of English, but not enough for us to hold a conversation. I also know a little Spanish, enough to ask where to put things. They treat me like a friend already. We fist bump, and A wished me a happy new year after work as he was heading out. I love working with these people. My boss is the only one who I am kind of weary around. The best way to describe him is that he seems to have never gotten out of that cishet frat boy phase. "That actress was smoking hot." He says this to me, after I mentioned that I named myself (indirectly) after Irene Adler. He's mostly nice, and he recognizes that dishwashing is a hard job and is equally as important as the other jobs. But that aggressive cishet part of him makes me so weary of being around him. If I was a cis person, I wonder how that would change the interactions. I have mixed feelings about my job. But they're mostly positive. And I understand better how a restaurant works.

[squashsquashed]

trauma dump because im losing my mind and no one’s listening

idk if im manic definitely feeling a bit psychotic rn . everyone in this house treats me like a fuckinh nanny cleaning and shit just cause i’m homeless . the dishes have been in the dish washer for 2 days clean and everyone has been home except me . i hate the.bitch i live with because she’s a fucking spoiled brat that does coke all day and drinks and never cleans after her self. she even curses at her parents that pay for her college and car and gas and food . mY FUCKING MOTHER MADE ME BUY FOOD FOR HER AND PAY FOR GROCERIES my mom would beat me if i even tried to curse at her . im only here because my families house is an episode of hoarders and i was being woken up everyday asked for money . my money was getting taken out of my bank account cause my mother expects me to take care of her . i have no one . i have no parents or friends im on my last fucking shit rn i have so much trauma i relive everyday . i can’t even go back to my moms because she took my room and ruined it to the point u can’t even see the floor . my sister sleeps on the couch there . there’s cat pee all over the floors and majority of the food is expired . and my mom acts like im supposed to be there struggling with them all. i don’t know whether to kill myslef or killevrryome else that has fucked up my life .

i have no car , no money , and everything that i have feels like it’s just gonna get taken away from me like it always has

i grew up as a kid praying every night to some fake ass god to not take our house away and praying my mom would win the lottery so we can live in. a clean nice home with food . what ever fucking god the rich prays to is NOT my god .

my mom has a warrant out for her arrest because she bounced a check trying to buy us food when i was 8. i vividly remember her screaming crying on the phone in the car outside the grocery store to the people . i can’t go through anything else .

crying everynight after we got evicted from our last house after i watched my mom have an affair on the only person keeping the family financially stable because her selfish ass . and she thinks that it was good i went through all this . she grew up perfect in a perfect family with a big house and they always went on vacation. and she thinks nothing i went through should effect me

fuckinh sleeping on the floor for months because i didn’t want to share a bed with her . begging for a therapist for years only for her to put it off

getting told i was the reason she wanted to kill herself when i was 14 . getting called a bum and useless when i was 15 just cause i was depressed . her knowing i was attempting for years and not doing anything except telling me if i did die we couldn’t afford a funeral. is this shit not supposed to fuck me up .

so much more . i don’t have family i don’t know my dad i hate living in general and i really don’t feel the need to keep going .

all the fucked up people that have ruined my life have never said sorry . while i apologize for existing everyday

[dappersautismcreature]

just finished fallout the show but holy shittt dude i havent watched a show this good in a whiiile. part of it could probably be contributed to the excellent video games and the worldbuilding already laid out for it but holy shit holy shit.

SPOILERS

i was convinced i didnt like maximus but no i was just falling for cleverly set up twists and some things were predictable yes but sometimes theyd just do something that felt SO right. and the characterization?? excellent. the tone? incredible and unique.

normally with these split POV shows i get bored of a POV but that didnt really happen. and normally i get frustrated with the political aspects (not because i think its 'too political' or whatever just because i have that good ol fashion autistic strong sense of justice and i want to punch characters) but there was enough nuance and characters that i could relate to on a moral level that i didnt feel as frustrated.

its really interesting because in my polysci 101 class we just learned about the Federalist papers and one of Madison's talks about interest groups in politics (lobbyist groups essentially) and saying that yes groups like these can be detrimental to political liberty but restricting the freedom of all groups would lead to a worse detriment to personal liberty and free speech.

Hank's (fuck u hank) whole deal was getting rid of factions but his ideas were flawed because he created a greater detriment to health and liberty than factions do, he created another faction (dumb bitch)

gore is not really my thing and ill admit this was a hard watch for me (close to Invincible levels imo and i cannot bring myself to watch Invincible again) but it was manageable and felt like it matched the tone

and the tone, ive never seen anything like it, i mean i havent watched like every show in existence but it feels really unique. my favorite aspec t of a lot of sci fi is what i call "confident ridiculousness" which yes can be grating and land badly sometimes but this felt like seasoning on a dish, just enough and not too much. They managed to keep serious and emotional moments while still having those moments where you can feel the comedic exasperation.

and the charactersssss, like i said i usually get bored of a POV but all of these characters were different and interesting.

Maximus most of all because i fell for the idea of him hurting Dane. I always kept that bit of doubt in my mind but as things progressed and Maximus did more desperate things i thought i would hate him by the seasons end. but no, looking back with the knowledge that he didnt hurt Dane everything he did really just seemed like instinct and self preservation not malicious intent. sure you can say he did bad things and hurt people but thats the point of the show. i like him maybe the most out of all the MCs but its a hard choice.

Lucy was great too! as a transmasc guy i sometimes feel dysphoric for relating to a femme character (my bad sorry im fighting my internalized misogyny) but she was so relatable and amazing. sometimes Lucy's (brown haired skinny white woman PC) can be generic and flavorless in terms of character traits but I liked her almost instantly. She is so smart. a lot of characters that start out naive stay very naive and thats seen as like, a strength of character but I personally love that she does change and is still mostly able to defend her values. She makes mistakes due to that naivety but to me at least, remains relatable and smart when she learns from those. she feels like a full character, which you dont see very often in the archetype thats supposed to be your self insert.

And the Ghoul, intensely complicated and interesting. I flipped back and forth so many times on whether i liked or hated him. Again i know thats the point but still! i will admit im a sucker for his type of character but the show still had me gritting my teeth over his actions. he is not a good person, of course, but seeing him grapple with what he used to be is so cool and i really liked his story.

im running out of descriptions but im really impressed with the writing and the acting. the main three actors were all perfect and im hoping for a season two.

i could talk more but again, running out of words lmao.

[wordsforthemasses]

ok so. last night, when u came home from work the day aft i got back from philly i heard the door. and i was like it’s either noah or we’re being robbed. and i was pretty sure it was noah.

i was like so. excited. like excited enough that it turned into a little bit of nervousness i think. which is so crazy. but anyways. i grabbed brent’s keys to go hand them to you and you’d reached the top of the stairs when i saw you. you smiled at me like so wide and then gave me a hug. and i squeezed tighter than you. because honestly it felt sort of desperate. i wanted to be close to you like all day and i was finally getting to do that again. agonising!! anyways

before i (zaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakl - nala, interjecting by stepping and sitting on the keyboard) saw you i was like. trying to keep it chill. in the facial area. like i sort of sauntered up to you and gave you i think like a restrained smile. and then i squeezed you kinda tight during the hug.

you went to move the cars, and i was still pretty excited when you came back up but i was faced away, doing a dish at the sink, being chill. and when you came up i expected you to hug me from behind. but you ate some broccoli first and then you did i think. but. anyways. some time passed and i asked you about how happy you thought i was to see you again or something, and you were like “very.” so sure. so confident. when i asked you why, i think you said it was because of my behaviour. and i was turned away from you, unloading or loading the dishwasher. 

and honestly if you could see my face like all the time, it would be horrible. so much of the time that i’m like not being watched by you directly when you call me out on stuff like this i’m like. clearly feeling so. pinned down and attacked. because like ok how the fuck do you know. how the fuck do you Think you know. i’m chillin!!!!!! i was so clearly chillin.

anyways you said that it was because of how tight i hugged you, it was like we hadn’t seen each other in like 3 weeks when it had been like 11 hrs. and. OKAY??? how am i supposed to help that??? like??? i want to be fucking close to you?? bro what is your fucking problem let me be

AND I WAS TRYING TO KEEP IT CHILL TOO. I KNOW I ALR WROTE ABOUT THIS BUT WHEN YOU TURNED AWAY TO GO DOWNSTAIRS. I LIKE. YOU KNOW. had a little. hoppy moment. about. it. and then turned around like sort of terrified that you’d seen me but here you are reading this so whatever it’s all in the past for me i’m sure i don’t like you as much anymore it’s fine

the number of posts i’ve been writing recently is a little concerning.

but anyways this reminded me. of. when i was sitting on you on the dirty disgusting couch in the old house. and i was kissing you and i stopped for whatever reason and like you sort of goaded me into kissing you more in like a bratty way and it worked. ok. sue me. i wanted to kiss you and also shut you up. kissing two birds with one stone here. whatever. the point is. when i pulled away from kissing you you laughed so hard and said ‘you’re so fucked’ and like you were right. however, i was horrified. how is it any of your business how I feel in my own Brain about you why do you get to know that.

and you said. that it was because apparently i didn’t Like brattiness but like totally fell for it OKAY YEAH and what and WHAT

you were so fucking confident about it, like it was hilarious to you how down horrendous i was. and like yes. ok. like yeah. i was. and am. and will continue to be. but yeah. horrifying. this was before we were a sure thing at all and i think. it made you. like. sure. or more sure. you were right about everything. i’d go to philly and miss you. both times. i was unsure what it would bring for us both times but. i would ask you to date me within like an hour of you making that wish. i know that wasn’t a prediction of yours. but it was close to one. 

and your hubris in early january. i like. had a girlfriend. basically. you know. life plans together. some level of commitment to the point that i felt it was necessary to inform him and update him on the happenings of our developing relationship. i think it was the day that we got back from the mall. when we were sitting on that dirty disgusting couch. and you were like. if there’s a 1% chance you’ll date me, i’ll still try. and i was like. 

OH. that day. we held hands in the taxi on the way back. :). so cool and tender. i love you. or on the way there. i think it was on the way back. because on the way there i thought about it. i think. but we were still at that point where like. i wasn’t sitting in the middle seat. we still did that on the car ride on the way to the red lobster part of your birthday, but i remember wishing that i was closer to you.

anyways, like i was saying. the fucking audacity. of me being like. u know i’m like sort of in a relationship right. and you being like. yeah i know. but. you said i had a chance. and the potential roi is immense. like if you’re worth $10,000 or something, which is underselling it, and i have a 1% chance. that’s worth it to me.

thank you for doing that math. i am glad i am sitting here, in your parent’s house, typing this. 

i hope this lasts. i hope you get to read this on or after your birthday next year. i hope i get to write more. 

i just heard a car lock so i know you’re almost done moving them. :) i get to hang out with you!!!!!!!! bye future noah!!! i love u 

i’d apologise for how long this is but i don’t think you mind very much.

[fandomout]

if u can please write a carl gallagher x fem reader where they’re teenagers working at the same place eg a diner and carl hates everyone there but her trope? tysm 🫶🏼💗💗

I took some inspo from things in my life. It was kinda therapeutic and nice to write this out. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

I am still working on the other requests I have, but they will be written. Lol. Also, MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

Carl Gallagher x Female Reader-"Hate everyone but you"

Carl was getting to my he diner late as usual even with the standing goal to get there in time to see her. 

He bursts through the door to see that she’d already made it to work. He was in the process of waving at her when their manager bumped into him, and the manager stated, “You’re late.”

Carl shook his head and explained, “Don’t think so. I got here before you. I would call that on time.” 

“Oh really? I got something for you.” The manger flicks Carl off with a smile before walking off.

Carl's response was, “Dickhead.“ 

Carl clocked in and went in to wash the few dishes already in the sink; however, it became clear to him quickly that it was a slow morning. 

He looked at the floors and tables spotlessly clean. He thought about how she was the only one that cared enough to do the actual job. Her eyes were quick to find her sitting down and admire her as she sat watching the sun illuminate her. The cashier walked past him, and she commented, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”  

“Oh shut up. You wish you could be that beautiful.”

The cashier gasped and retorted, “You ass.”

“Hey, I’m the one minding my business; you came up to me.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Well, you're ugly so who won?” He shrugs and laughs slightly at her. 

She replied in mutters; however, she was quick to walk away after Carl gave her a taunting wave and the words, “Bye.” 

Carl's eyes fall back onto her, and she's rubbing at her eyes softly and blinking aggressively. He looked at the coffee pot on the counter and made his way over. He asks a question he already knows the answer to, “Tired?” He lifts the coffee pot in the air and turns the cup over. 

She responds with a small smile to answer, “Yes, actually. Thank you.” 

He puts the coffee pot back where it’s supposed to, and he sits in the both across from you. He nervously moved his thumbs back and forth on each other, and he struggled to find words, “So…Umm…” There was a small silence as you finished preparing your coffee how you like and asking, “How did you spend your day off yesterday?”

“Yesterday? Well, just the usual family is crazy. Really nothing much though.“

“Everything okay?” He smiles at the question and nods before asking

“What about you? I mean what do you do for fun.”

“Well, these days I’m not too sure. I actually picked up a shift yesterday actually.”

“Why?”

“They said they needed someone. So I came in.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t have anything to do anyway. I actually asked them to switch my schedule, so they don’t have to keep calling me.”

“Your switching days?”

“Yeah. Switching my Wednesday for a Tuesday. It works better that way for me. I can have all day off of nothing.”

“Wow-Well, if your not doing anything-We cou-” 

The manager smiles smug as he walks over and states in an upbeat tone, “Carl, get back to the back work. Do your fucking job?”

“You-”

The manager looks at you and says, “Y/N a pleasure. I could just eat you up.“

Carl looks to see how she hunches over. The reaction and situation makes his hands ball up. Quickly, he says, “Fuck off!” 

The manager opens his mouth before closing it. He walked off because Carl’s gaze and balled fists sent too many alerts through him. Carl gave a smile to Y/N, which she returned. After that, Carl went back to work to take away from the anger the interaction gave him.  

The diner got slightly more busy, so the other dishwasher and Carl were working together to get it down. While Carl was washing some dishes, he overhears the other dishwasher say, “Yesterday was busy. You know Sal doesn’t even do too much work. Even with that, I have too much going on on Tuesdays. I doubt Manger. Fucktard would let me switch.” 

Carl finished up his pile and went over and offered to switch Tuesdays. “Really? Man, I thought you were a son of a bitch, but you're alright.”

“Me son of a bitch? Don’t make me regret switching with you now. Mind giving me Thursdays. You can take my Friday.”

“Sure. No problem. I’ll let the boss know.” Carl waved him off with a smile and continued to work. He’d have the same schedule as you for the weeks to come, and he couldn’t wait. 

Soon enough, the morning shift was over, and it was time to go. Carl rushed to get ready to go, so he could catch you. You're always too quick and he misses you. Despite the effort not resulting in what he wanted, he still smiled knowing he’d get to see you tomorrow.

It was evening shift this time on that Thursday, and he came in a bit late as he walked toward the dinner. Luckily, you were just getting there too. He smiled and said, “You're not early?”

She shook her head and said, “Night Shift is always worse, so I take my time getting here. Hopefully it ends soon…you don’t work today? Are you covering for someone?” He felt himself warm inside knowing that she did notice him. He could have sworn he answered but only in his head. “Carl?”

“Oh sorry I thought I answered you.”

“Only in your head huh. It’s okay it happens.”

“Actually my schedule changed too.”

“Oh…you didn’t say anything the last time we talked.”

“Oh that?…Manager fucktard interrupted our conversation.”

“Manager fucktard?” She bursted out laughing full heartedly and called his whole body warmed at the sound. He wanted to hear it again; he got what he wanted as he seriously said, “Yeah. Fucktard.” 

“Oh that’s good.” He smiled at her and laughed nervously along with her. 

They made it to work and the shit show began. Carl actually didn’t realize what he’d gotten himself into. He’s never worked the night shift. Hectic and stressful but he remembered why he did it. Catching glances of her making it worthwhile and filling him with energy. Working even faster at work.

When things were winding down, it all took a turn for the worst. Y/N was stuck with a group of boys to wait on. 

Immediately, one commented, “Nice ass.” 

Y/N gasped out before trying to play it off and get it over with and questioned, “What can I get you all?”

Another replied, “How about your number?” 

“You all need a few minutes. No problem. I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks for the view.” Y/N shook her head heading to her other tables until she went up to her manager, who sat at a counter.

She straight up asked him, “Hey, can you cover the group in the corner?”

“Why?”

“It's difficult because we’re the same age. You’d make it all go a lot quicker.”

“Hun, I could do that… “Really-”

“But, I won’t.”

“What?”

“This work is professional.”

“They really will be here forever if you don’t step in.”

“Dear…Look, you know what?”

“What?”

“I could do it for a price…” His hand starts to make its way on her thigh. Y/N pulls away instantly and walks back over to the table of boys. She puts on her facade and asks once again, “What can I get you?” 

“How about some cake?”

“We don’t actually have much dessert. Certainly, not cake.” The group of boys laugh. 

Y/N gets all the rage built. It gave her the courage to say, “If you aren’t going to get anything, you have to go.”

“Is that any way to talk to a customer? That’s a bit rude.”

”You’re lucky that’s all you get. You are being more than rude. Also, disgusting, creepy, and straight up pathetic that you have to do this just to get any kind of attention. I’m done with your table.” Y/N goes to walk away before one of the boys grabs her wrist. “Don’t touch-” Y/N doesn’t have to finish the sentence before Carl is jumping over the counter, removing his hand with a strong grip. He tackled the boy to the ground pounding his fists down. The other boys started to get up. Y/N stopped at least two from getting up as she kicked them back into the booth and used her order book to hit anywhere she could. Honestly, those boys never had a chance. Carl was livid for your treatment. Soon the manager was up and pulled Carl off of one of the boys. He pushed Carl toward you and yelled, “You’re Fired Gallagher!” Y/N looked over to Carl before she strides over to the manager not caring about the bodies on the ground and punching the manager square in the face. “Fucktard! I quit! Touching a minor! Watch your children with this one!” Y/N pointed to herself. Carl got his and Y/N’s things before walking out together. The adrenaline ran out and Y/N was left shy. She uttered to Carl, “I’m sorry I got you fired.”

“That? Who cares?”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Come on, they need people. They’ll call us back. If not, they don’t deserve us. They certainly don’t deserve you.” The words made her shy as she put her hands and looked down to say, “Carl…Ummm. Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine. Are you?” He grabbed your hands gently, and you both stopped walking. You stayed silent, and he continued to speak, ”The fact that you have to deal with assholes like that-It’s so fucked. I’m angry for you.” 

“Is that why you did that back there?”

“That? I mean yeah…”

“Oh.”

“But, not just that. I don’t know if you noticed I hate everyone there.”

“I’ve noticed. Spouting your swears left and right.”

“I hate everyone but you.”

“I-Thanks?” Carl moved his hands from reviewing your hands to holding them. His breath hitched slightly before he smiled and said, Y/N…I have big feelings for you. It probably doesn’t sound so pretty. Honestly, I’m not that smart. I couldn’t stand the way they treated you in there, and I lost it…Anyway, I’ve been trying to gain so much courage to ask you out, but lose the nerve or get interrupted every time. I’d understand it if you said no, but I really had to ask.”

“You need that much courage just to ask me out even though you just fought all those guys with no fear?”

“Pretty much.”

“I-” Y/N held his hands back before leaning forward and kissing his lips softly. Carl leaned forward trying to catch your lips pulling away as he was fully enveloped in bliss. You laughed at his reaction, and he laughed at himself too. “I-Carl…I hope you realize not anyone just does what you did. I thought you were really cute, don’t worry…You’re not the only one. I’d love to go on a date with you and some other time we can find a job together?”

“As long as my schedule matches yours, I really don’t care where we work. Uh-” He scratches the back of his head softly and asks, “Can I kiss you again? I really liked it. Won’t be able to stop thinking about it if I don’t get at least one more before the end of the day.” You smile and nod as he comes in close. 

Hope your day got better

Shameless Masterlist

Full Masterlist

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[xutokawa]

aahh the s/o finding scratch marks is fulfilling my angst needs 😭🤚🏽 could u maybe do one with bokuto & suna 🥺 i love your writing so much!! xx

pairings: suna x reader, bokuto x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating

wc: 2.3k

» masterlist

a/n: thank you for your support! I tried adding more plot to it this time hehe. breaking bokuto’s heart broke mine bro :( hope you like it! also TYSM GUYS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS FDJSKF i love every single one of yu :D <3 mwah mwah mwah

atsumu and oikawa ver.

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Suna

“Rin, hand me the soy sauce,” you asked, not looking up from the dish you were stir frying.

“Get it yourself,” Suna teased back. Rolling your eyes, you stuck out your hand. Laughing, Suna came up behind you, placing the bottle of soy sauce in your hands before wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands snuck under your shirt, laying on your bare stomach. You leaned back into his chest, sighing contently. The two of you rarely had time together anymore. While you were burying yourself in your work in hopes for a promotion, Suna was busy with practices that extended throughout the whole day. Both of you were exhausted by the time you came home to your apartment together, unable to muster the energy to do anything except fall asleep in each other’s arms.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Suna said, taking a deep breath into your neck.

“I think that’s the fried rice you’re smelling,” you joked back. Butterflies stormed your stomach as Suna’s hands gently massaged your sides. Even after living with the middle blocker for three years, he never failed to make you feel like a crushing high school student. Suddenly, Suna’s gentle hands grew antsy, teasingly tickling your sides. Jumping, you tell him, “Rin, stop! I’m going to spill something!”

“I think I’ll keep going,” Suna teased back, his hands continuing to tickle you. With one poke to your side, your entire body jerked, causing the soy sauce in your hand to fling into the air, and onto Suna’s shirt.

“Y/n! I really liked this shirt!” Suna whined. 

“That’s your fault, baby. I told you to stop,” you shrugged, laughing at his expression.

“Whatever, I’m going to go change,” Suna pouted, turning away.

As you finished cooking, you went into your shared bedroom to tell Suna dinner was ready. You were stopped in your tracks, however, when you saw his changing form. Back to you, long scratch marks ran down the length of his back. Scratches that were not put there by you. 

“R-rin, what is this?” You asked, voice beginning to waver.

Suna spun around, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you knock?” Suna nervously asked, rushing to push his t-shirt over his head, “It’s nothing, babe, just uh, got in a fight!”

“Are you sure it was a fight? Or was it a late night in someone else's bed?” You asked accusingly, brows furrowing. Would your Suna cheat on you? You had felt pretty secure about your relationship before now, never having a reason to doubt your trust in your boyfriend. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to make excuses for the lines raked down his back. 

Pain and guilt flashed across Suna’s eyes, and that’s when you knew. You were wrong to believe you gave him everything he needed in a relationship.

“Look, y/n, we can figure this out, just let me-” Suna began.

“Please, stop,” you choked out, eyes welling up with tears. The middle blocker felt his heart shatter watching you back away from him as if he were a plague. 

“No, you don’t understand! I can’t lose you like this,” Suna said, walking towards you, wanting nothing more than to pull you in his arms and wipe your tears away. He stopped in his tracks, however, when you flinched away from his touch, hatred flickering in your eyes. At that moment, Suna felt like the scum of the earth.

“Please, get away from me. Get out of this room, get out of this apartment! I don’t need your excuses,” You said, voice raising. When you finally looked up to meet Suna’s eyes, you found nothing but despair and regret. 

“No! I won’t leave you, y/n! You don’t understand how much I need-” Suna started.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Rintarou,” you scoffed. The pain in Suna’s chest grew at the use of his full name.

“I-it’s Rin. You always call me Rin. Please, call me Rin,” Suna pleaded, voice beginning to shake, “Stop distancing yourself from me. I’m your Rin. Please, don’t leave. I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you!”

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Rintarou! Cheating on me and then begging for me to stay and forgive you? Tell me, what was your plan? Did you just want a quick fuck one night? Or did you plan to keep cheating on me for the rest of our relationship?” You angrily walked towards him. Suna watched as the love you once held in your eyes for him turned into agony. He felt himself crumple knowing he was the sole cause of your anger and hurt.

“No! It was a mistake! Please, let me make it up to you,” Suna reached for your hands, desperate to have you with him.

“The only mistake that was made here was me trusting you,” You said, spinning around as you headed for the door. Suna physically flinched at your words, hurt and shame flooding his body. Panic filled his mind at the sound of your keys jingling and the sound of you putting on your shoes.

“Wait! Y/n, where are you going? Please don’t leave, it’s not safe for you to go out right now. Just stay and let us talk about it,” Suna pleaded, walking up behind you.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here with you right now,” you coldly replied, reaching out for the door handle. Suna rushed to stop you from turning the knob.

“Please, y/n, I can’t handle you leaving me,” Suna whispered.

“Just leave it, Suna. No amount of begging or love can fix my trust for you,” you replied, back towards his sobbing figure. Suna finally fell to his knees in defeat as you walked out of the apartment, knowing he lost you forever.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Bokuto

“Ugh, I’m so ready to just relax,” you sighed out, dramatically splaying your arms across the center console in your fiancé’s car. A tingle ran up your spine at the sound of Bokuto chuckling from beside you, not taking his eyes off the road. You could never get used to his laugh, no matter how many times you’ve heard it.

“I know, baby. You deserve it,” Bokuto replied, taking one hand off the steering wheel to place on your thigh, giving a light squeeze. The two of you had been insanely busy the month leading up to this trip. From your boss’ unrelenting demands at work to your family’s constant nagging and opinions on your wedding decorations, the two of you just needed to catch a break. So, when Bokuto brought up the idea of a weekend beach trip, you immediately agreed, jumping up and down in excitement.

The beaming sun immediately warmed your skin as you stepped out of the car. Warmth spread through your body as you glanced back at Bokuto as he started pulling out your stuff from the trunk, looking up to flash you his smile you had fallen in love with ages ago. 

“You go on ahead and find a spot for us, I’ll follow in a second,” Bokuto called out to you. Giving a thumbs up, you started towards the gleaming ocean, excitement filling your body as you felt the sand beneath your feet. Finally, choosing a spot, you unfolded your beach chair, spreading your towel across the top. A smile settled on your face as you laid down, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the harsh rays. Your eyes drifted closed, the sounds of waves crashing and children giggling putting you in a serene state.

Bokuto chuckled at your appearance before setting up his own beach chair next to you, situating a beach umbrella between the two chairs. He felt his heart speed up as he gazed at your relaxing figure, wanting nothing more than to cover your face in kisses. The spiker felt so much love for you, so he felt nothing but confusion as to how he woke up in another person’s bed two nights ago, naked. His adoration for you was replaced with guilt. Bokuto still hadn’t figured out how to approach the situation, how to tell you without you breaking off the engagement. He wanted nothing more than to watch you walk down the aisle in a few months, than to have children running around the two of you as you prepared dinner, than to grow old with you by his side. Bokuto was still unsure of what happened that night to cause him to slip out of a random person’s apartment in his clothes from the previous night.

The spiker was shook from his thoughts at the sound of your voice. 

“Are you going into the water?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I think I will just to cool off,” Bokuto replied, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Okay, I’ll join you in a bit, I just want to lay for a little longer,” you replied to him, closing your eyes again.

“Okay, baby. Take your time,” Bokuto said, placing a kiss on your forehead before starting towards the water. You giggled as you watched your fiancé run towards the ocean. Your laughter quickly died, however, once you saw his back.

Your eyes widen with a mixture of shock and confusion, racking your brain for an explanation for the long, red strips that lined your fiance's back, but, no matter how hard you thought, nothing came up. The past month had been too hectic for the two of you to ever get close to intimate. Tears began pricking your eyes as the realization that Bokuto had cheated on you settled in your mind. 

Does he know he has scratch marks on his back? Is this his subtle way of telling me he wants to end this? That I wasn’t enough for him?

As soon as Bokuto hit the ocean, the salty water stung his back. His initial confusion as to where the pain came from was quickly replaced with realization. He shot up at the water, turning to watch you get up from your seat. 

Maybe they didn’t see, he hoped. His hopes, however, were quickly crushed as his heart dropped to his feet. You began to gather your things, rummaging through Bokuto’s belongings until you found the keys to his car.

Panicking, Bokuto ran out of the ocean as fast as he could, cursing at the water for resisting his movements. He watched helplessly as you began walking back towards the parking lot. You saw. You saw the scratch marks, and now you were leaving Bokuto. The spiker’s worst nightmares were turning into a reality right in front of his eyes.

The dull shouting of your name from down the beach sounded in your ears. You ignored Bokuto’s incessant calls for you, the ache in your heart overpowering every emotion you were feeling. 

Bokuto ran through the sand as fast as he could, hoping to catch up to you before you left his life forever. His lungs and legs were screaming, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain of you leaving. Panic rose in his eyes as he watched you get into the driver's seat, starting the engine to his car. 

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you took a shaky breath, a weak attempt to try and calm your heart. You looked down at your engagement ring, memories of that night flashing through your mind, forcing another sob to rack your body knowing that your memories now meant nothing. Banging on the car window startled you as you looked up to find a panicked Bokuto. His frantic words were muffled as you watched him desperately attempt to stop you from leaving. 

“Please, y/n, roll down the window. Let me explain, please,” Bokuto blabbered, “Y/n, please don’t leave me, you have to let me explain. I love you! I want to marry you, and you only!”

Anger surged through your body as you scoffed at his words. Rage blinded your thoughts at the mention of your impending marriage. How dare he tell you he wants to get married after cheating on you? Your brain didn’t have time to process your movements as you pulled your ring off your left hand. You watched as a glimmer of hope flickered in Bokuto’s eyes as you began to roll down the window, only to have his eyes widen in pain and shock as you handed him your engagement ring.

“You’re really a piece of shit, Bokuto. You know that?” Tears began welling up in the spiker’s eyes as he stared at the piece of metal that laid in his hands. 

“No, y/n, please. Give me your hand, please,” Bokuto frantically pleaded, reaching for your hand. The ring in his hand belonged nowhere else except your ring finger. 

“Just stop, Bokuto, you’ve already ruined everything,” you scoffed out. As his eyes met yours, he was met with a whirlwind of hurt, shame, and pity. That’s when he realized. To you, he was pathetic. The love and adoration that made your eyes shine brighter than the sun was now replaced with hatred and pain, making them burn greater than the depths of hell.

Bokuto’s heart shattered into pieces knowing you would never love him the same, knowing he broke your trust. 

“I-,” Bokuto paused, unsure of what else he could say to get you back.

“I’m sorry, y/n” the man in front of you choked out. Bokuto felt helpless as he watched you roll up your window and drive away from him, leaving him in shattered pieces.

That night, when Bokuto finally returned to his shared apartment, the reality of the situation hit him. The empty aura filling the space that he used to share with you was all it took for Bokuto to fall onto his knees, becoming a shell of his former self. You were gone.