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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 10 months

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Corrupted, Chapter Four: Watched - a Malevolent x TMA fic

Tim's been treading, head above water, for a while now. He had hoped to find help.

That’s not really what the Magnus Institute does.

AO3

——-

Tim leaves early.

Navigating empty streets at night is one thing. This is heading into west London right at the beginning of the work day, and he will take no chances. Beyond all the ones he can’t avoid, anyway.

John’s navigation, however, is flawless. Slow down a little. Good. The step is higher than that—good.

On the bus without incident. Amazing.

And then it’s very weird, because Tim is used to scrolling his phone on public transit, and he obviously can’t do that now—but it gives him an idea. He rummages in his backpack.

What are you doing? John sounds curious.

Tim finds what he’s searching for by feel. “Ah, ha!” he says, and uncoils a white cord with earbuds. “There,” he says, plugging into his phone. “Thank you, Past Tim, Pack-Rat Extraordinaire. Now I can talk without looking crazy. Just on the phone, ma’am, nothing to see here.”

Very smart, John says. I’m impressed.

“Modern technology, eh?” says Tim. “Modernish, anyway. Speaking of which, you don’t seem to be struggling very hard with things like cell phones and rideshares. You’d been here before. Recently.”

Have I? Tim, there are so many worlds, so many timelines, so many dimensions. I’ve seen technology you would never believe—and magic that made it all irrelevant.

What an answer. “And you’re humble about it, too,” Tim says. “Also, you’re deflecting. You know movie titles. Not that Tim Curry doesn’t deserve multiverse fame, but you knew who that was.”

Such a clever man, John purrs, and Tim shifts in his seat, unwillingly affected. I see I will have to watch what I say around you.

“Deflecting. Again. Anyway, I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs, facing the window. “You must be kind of rare, whatever you are. If the world were full of things like you, I’m pretty sure I’d know.”

Really.

Amused. That’s that tone. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t everybody?”

Because for most of us, it’s far more entertaining and useful when humans don’t know what’s watching them from the shadows.

“Okay, so that’s really ominous,” says Tim. “Worse than ‘a being.’ Positively malevolent. Still not gonna tell me what you are?”

No.

Tim sighs. “So. Anything interesting out the window?”

Quite a lot, actually. And John proceeds to describe what he sees.

Tim would absolutely have bought the audio with this guy narrating London for tourists.

John manages to make ordinary shops and red mailboxes interesting. He describes people Tim knows he would never have even noticed on his own. He manages to make London feel like a thriving, vividly energetic throng, a place of potential, not just a crowded, expensive place to work.

It almost feels like part of a life worth living. Maybe it’s time to face the fact that he has no plans. The house selling is great, but he is going to need another job—and yeah, Nigel is probably not going to give him a recommendation.

Tim should care about that more than he does.

You’re drifting, says John.

“Sorry. Just… trying to think about things. Future. Employment. All those boring human details.”

I see. What are you thinking?

“You actually want to know?”

I do, Tim.

Tim slouches comfortably, sliding low in his seat. “Sure. Well, I worked in publishing. I’m a really good editor. But… I don’t know anymore.”

Looking for a change?

“Needing one, honestly.” He swallows around the tightness in his throat. “I was thinking about when I quit, and nobody… nobody really cared. I haven’t been happy for a while, you know? And they say you’re not supposed to make any major changes like quitting your job or selling your house or getting married for a year after bereavement, but, uh. I’m two for three, and it hasn’t even been a month.”

I see. You feel the need to keep moving, John observes, low. The type of creature which, if it ceases swimming, will drown.

Tim shivers. “Wow. Never been called whatever that is before.”

A shark. This is our stop.

Tim laughs. “Shark? I am so not a shark.” Somehow, he manages to exit the bus without running into anyone or banging his head, and exhales in relief. “Right. Which way?”

I’m not sure. There are a lot of old buildings here, but not much signage. Walk forward. More to your left.

It’s like a trust game, Tim thinks. Like something to do with your brother one boring summer afternoon, one of you blindfolded and the other giving directions and accidentally-on-purpose steering you into things.

Sure. That makes it less scary. Right.

Ha! There we go. I see a small, brass sign that says, MAGNUS INSTITUTE 1818. Perfect. And—oh, Tim.

“What?”

This is a place of power. The way John says that… deeper, richer, absolutely eager.

Tim shivers. “Power? What kind of power? Is that good?”

Perhaps. I’ve never had trouble with this particular Power. I believe I am safe.

“You sure you’re as anonymous as you think?”

The moment you made that phone call, Tim, you bet both our lives. If I thought this were truly a danger, I would have said so.

“Sure, put it on me,” he mutters. “How far?”

Stairs starting… now.

There are more stairs than Tim expected. They’re wide and shallow, just a little awkward to climb. “Does it look spooky?”

It’s a temple, John breathes. Oh… I knew it was old, but I didn’t expect this. The one worshiped here has been worshiped here for a long time. Door.

Tim feels for the handle, tugs. Of course, it’s still locked. “Guess we’ll just have to loiter for a bit. You know, in front of the scary pagan temple in the middle of London. What time does my phone say?”

Seven. We’re an hour early. Heh. And pagan doesn’t cover it.

“Sure. Well, better early than—”

“Excuse me, can I help you?” comes a posh baritone.

Tim, there’s a… oh.

Tim wonders what that oh was for. “Hi. I, uh. I need to see someone inside. Kind of an emergency.”

The posh man huffs, like an irritated cat. “Well, we don’t… this is a place of research, so I’m not sure what you expect in an emergency.”

He’s a slight person, shorter than you, much narrower. Brown skin; I’d think mixed South Asian ancestry. He’s slightly overdressed for the weather; shirt, vest, sweater over that. He’s managing to look down his nose at you in spite of his height. But Tim… he’s been claimed, branded by the thing that calls this its base of power, in a messy, undisciplined way. I don’t understand what I’m seeing. It’s like he’s accidentally a priest.

So that’s the oh. Tim wonders how the hell one can accidentally be a priest. “Well, I need to, uh. What was it the website said? Give my statement?”

There is an irritated sigh. “Well, you might as well come in. I can at least give you a place to wait until Gertrude arrives—ah, Ms. Robinson, the head Archivist.” The voice is moving away, accompanied by the sound of keys. “I’m Jonathan Sims. In research.”

“Tim Stoker. In trouble.”

He hunched when you said that. I believe he feels more for our emergency than he wants to let on.

“Sorry to hear that,” researcher-Jon mutters. “But as I said, I’m not sure what we can do. Police?”

“Not for this, mate. But thanks, anyway.”

Correct to the left a bit. He’s holding the door for you. Ahead of us is an enormous, open lobby with old marble and dark wood. It’s beautiful, elegant. I see no furniture or anything else to trip you. To the left and right are the stacks going out of sight in the gloom. Clearly, at least part of this building is a library.

Their footsteps echo. It smells like books.

“What’s your statement regarding?” drawls researcher-Jon, audibly trying to be polite.

“A horrible book that ruined my life,” says Tim.

He’s stopped walking and is staring at you, abruptly pale, the arrogance dropped away like a mask. Oh, you’ve got his attention now.

“What?” says researcher-Jon. “What did you say? A book?”

“Yeah.”

“Did it have… a bookplate in front?” says researcher-Jon.

Tim can feel himself going pale, too. “Yeah. It said, ‘The Library of Jurgen Leitner.’”

“Oh, gods,” says researcher-Jon. “You… you’ve…”

He looks afraid, Tim, and—oh!

Those oh exclamations were, Tim was beginning to realize, far more important than any casual fuck or damn.

“Jon?” comes another voice, posh, somehow managerial. “Well, I’m used to you being here early, but who’s your…” The voice stops.

Oh!

Tim is about ready to strangle something over those oh’s.

“Elias, he’s touched a Leitner,” says researcher-Jon.

“I understand. I’ll handle this one,” says the man.

“I was going to make sure Gertrude—”

“Jon,” says the man, in a quiet, uncompromising tone. “I will handle this. Go on, now.”

“All right, all right. Good luck, Tim.” Researcher-Jon sounds like he means it, and he leaves, Oxfords clacking away.

“Thanks,” Tim calls after him.

Tim, this has to be the high priest of this place. Its power, its marking, is all over him.

“Elias Bouchard.” There’s a pause.

He’s holding out his hand. He’s a couple decades older than you. Expensive suit. Handsome in a boring sort of way. And he’s powerful. Oh, Tim, he’s powerful.

“The head honcho, eh?” says Tim, and reaches.

The handshake is firm and not spooky, so that much is good.

“Can you navigate?” says Bouchard.

“What?” says Tim.

And Bouchard’s voice is low. “I can clearly see that whatever… that is inside you has done something to your eyes—which is to say, you are blind. Do you wish for guidance to my office? I completely understand if you’re more comfortable making your own way.”

He… can see me? John sounds stunned.

“You see him?” says Tim in a small voice.

“I do. He’s… my, my, my.”

He’s not supposed to be able to see me, John says with a slight tremor.

Tim’s not feeling fear. Relief and shock and desperation rise up his throat like vomit, and he has to swallow emotions down before he can talk. He is not insane. External validation. His eyes leak, and he wipes them. “Can you help? This happened last night. You can see him. What’s—”

“Good morning, Mister Bouchard!” comes a cheerful tenor.

A tall, overweight man, surprisingly light on his toes, with bright red hair and a charming smile.

“Martin, good morning,” says Bouchard. “Mister Stoker, was it? Please come with me. We’d best deal with this in my office.”

Tim, you didn’t tell him your name.

True. And unnerving. “Okay,” Tim says, wary. “How’d you know my name?”

“Your passenger is not all I can see. Come along, please.”

Well. John had said they’d read his mind here.

I’m familiar with avatars of this particular Power, but this is an unusual level of skill. Be cautious.

Great! “Well, that simplifies things, right? At least I’ll be believed,” says Tim with cheer he does not feel.

“Refreshingly pragmatic,” says Bouchard.

Yeah, this was lovely.

Follow the sound of his shoes. We’re passing a secretary’s desk. His office is straight ahead. Tim, this man’s body isn’t as old as he is. He’s confusing to look at.

“What’s that mean?”

Bouchard ignores Tim’s mutters. “Here we are.”

The sound of a door closing behind Tim feels… weird. Very weird. He feels stared at. Ganged up on? Prickly, like he has to defend himself, or—

“Please, Mister Stoker, have a seat.”

Tim feels for the chair. “Do you think you can help us?”

There is a pause.

He’s seated at the desk. His hands are folded, and his gaze is… intense.

“Well, can you blame me?” says Bouchard. “You are truly magnificent.”

Tim is confused for the moment it takes him to realize who was just addressed.

John gasps. You can hear me?

“Yes. I simply had to… adjust a few details. Tilt the radar dish, play with the bunny-ears—ah, but you’re too young for those references, aren’t you, Mister Stoker?”

And Tim can feel two very distinct things.

One: John is afraid. Being seen and heard has shaken him; finding out why is definitely going to come up after this.

Two: Tim knows he’s being subtly mocked. The weird, watched sensation has grown, making him feel judged, and he really, really wants to make it stop. “I’m not a kid, for crying out loud. I know what a television antenna is.”

If you can hear me, then I highly suggest you stop siphoning him, John growls.

“What?” Tim blurts.

“My apologies,” Bouchard sounds positively silky. “My patron craves your fear. Can I get you some tea?”

Tim is frozen. “My fear?”

John growls. Full-on growls, and it is not remotely a human sound, and it is huge, and absolutely frightening. Back. Off.

“I’m afraid I have no such control over it,” says Bouchard, standing. “The Eye doesn’t have much in the way of personality—only hunger. However, if Mister Stoker does manage to calm down, the Eye will have no use for him. He’ll practically be invisible to it.”

“The Eye? What? Like a giant eyeball?” Tim stammers.

“Quite. I’ll be back with that tea. Take a moment, will you? Breathe deeply. You’ll be just fine.”

Bouchard leaves, and Tim resists the urge to wipe himself down as if the man’s words had been coated in oil. “It’s a big eyeball god?” he says.

Something like that. What we are dealing with is a Power—an Entity that lives on fear.

“What the fucking hell?”

You need to calm the fuck down.

“Oh, sure, I’ll just hit the calm the fuck down button,” says Tim. “Maybe I should’ve asked for something stronger than tea.”

John sighs. Then he flips that smooth, warm, absolutely devastating voice into action.You’re going to be all right. He told you what to do to avoid his Power’s hunger. Just take a minute, and breathe with me, all right? In. Out. Slower.

Fucking dom, Tim thinks, but does it. “This place is actually trying to making me feel watched, isn’t it?”

I believe so. But you’re handling it like a champ. In. Out. There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.

It does feel better. “No, I guess not.”

I told you—you can trust me, Tim.

Tim snorts. “Opportunist.”

Bouchard returns. “Hold out your hand.”

Tim finds himself with a cup of tea. He closes his eyes, sipping. “Thanks. That makes me feel human again.”

“Of course. Now. Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?”

His fingers are steepled. He’s watching us without blinking.

“Spooky,” says Tim before he can help himself.

Bouchard laughs lightly. “I serve a patron that feeds on fear. I’m afraid that whatever else I offer, comfort will not be on the menu.”

Tim’s heart sinks. “But… can you help?”

“Let’s find out. What happened?”

Tim takes out the book.

Careful, John warns. Open that, and it will again send out a— oh. He’s leaning away from it. Tim, he looks terrified.

“Well,” says Bouchard. “That is… ah..”

Tim already hates touching this thing. It may be psychosomatic, but now it feels terrible, greasy, like living skin. “What? What do you see?”

“I am going to make a guess,” says Bouchard slowly. “The passenger in your head was in this book first. Yes?”

“Yes,” says Tim.

“There is something else in that book. I would heavily advise you not to open it again.”

What? What? There is no other being in this book.

“I assure you, there is,” says Bouchard.

Impossible, John says as if offended.

“I assure you, it is not,” says Bouchard.

“So what do I do?” says Tim. “There’s got to be something I can do.”

And though he cannot see Bouchard looking at him, Tim suddenly feels pinned. Feels very distinctly like this man just reached into his brain and peeled it open, revealing everything he is.

John growls again.

“I will be frank,” says Bouchard. “I do not yet have an answer, but I believe I can find one. I have at my disposal quite a lot of knowledge, as well as some truly interesting contacts. I am willing to leverage all of that to help you in exchange for the freedom to watch how it all pans out.“

Tim’s not sure what that means. “What do you mean, watch how it all pans out?”

His eyes lidded just at the thought.

“I will give you much more than aid. I will give you answer. Any I find.”

Tempting. “You must really like to watch, eh?” Tim says, trying not to make it sound sexual.

“You have no idea,” Bouchard says, not trying to avoid that at all. “I’ve never seen the like. A new thing, to my patron, is the highest form of offering, and I am quite eager to help you. You rather have me over the proverbial barrel, Mister Stoker.”

He’s leaning back again, considering us. His fingers are still steepled. It’s a thoughtful look, pensive, as if he’s weighing something.

“You are in need of a job,” he says.

Spooky mind-reading confirmed! Tim thinks, slightly panicked. “I... will in time, sure.”

“I could employ you.”

Tim snorts. “No offense, but this place feels really weird.”

“It does, yes—but it’s also very safe.”

“Not according to every nerve in my body,” says Tim.

“The paranoia and fear are side effects of proximity to the Ceaseless Watcher. They are not representative of actual danger,” says Bouchard. “Working here would grant you some… protections, as well.”

“I don’t know quite how we got to offering my CV to a fear-god, but no thanks?” says Tim. “Got at least a few months before I’m that desperate, I think.”

“And do you plan to remain occupied that long?” says Bouchard.

Tim goes silent.

Can you help or not? I want something definitive. Your god is impressive, but this man is mine, and if you think I’m going to share—

“Hold the fuck on!” says Tim. “What?”

Bouchard laughs. “It’s all right. Mister Stoker. I’m fairly sure he’s just responding to the invasiveness of my patron—for which I do apologize. Do you have a safe place to stay?”

“Sure?” says Tim, still fighting against the absolute certainty of being watched, against the weirdness of his desire to rage in response.

“Would you be willing to leave that book with me?”

Absolutely not.

“But what if he can see inside it without opening it, or something?” says Tim.

No .

That growl is really something.

Tim takes a deep breath. “Hey. What does John look like?”

John has no body of his own to stiffen, but Tim feels him do it, anyway.

“Well,” says Bouchard, eyes lidding. “I see him in two ways. First is an impression—I suspect his own of himself. Whispers of the form he once had; catastrophically beautiful, like a terrible storm. Darker than mere absence of light, as if he might absorb it. There is gold throughout—I can’t quite make out the shape, but it is a very specific and almost harsh yellow. He seems to have… how shall I put this… the essence of a body that simply is not human. Multiple limbs, perhaps tentacles. Enormous horns or antlers, casting spined shadows. And I think he was quite large. All of that, however, is echo. What do I see when I look at him? The reverse of a flame. Dark, and hungry; fluttering and flickering like conflagration dancing in the wind, and significantly more dangerous than he seems. Given the right fuel, I daresay he could burn the world.”

Tim is silent.

John is silent.

“Wow,” says Tim.

There is a fabric rustle, and Tim suspects Bouchard has shrugged as if to say, Well, there it is.

“You really see all that?” said Tim.

“I do.”

“What the hell is he?”

“I have absolutely no idea. You’re very lucky. Whatever you're experiencing may have no precedent in this world.”

John is still silent.

Tim sighs. “So… what now?”

“Well, I suggest food that is not peanut butter? And keeping your head down. If you truly wish to keep the book, I think there may be a target on you. I can’t offer you protection outside my place of power.”

Tim snorts. “Well, unless you’ve secretly got an apartment complex in here, it wouldn’t do me much good, anyway.”

“Actually, we do, in a way.”

“What?”

“My employees are… hard-working. Part of the archive below has been converted. There is a small sleeping area, a washroom, a very minimal kitchenette. Should things grow desperate, you have my permission to kip there, as it were.”

“You really want to watch all this, don’t you?” says Tim.

“Indeed I do. And while I readily confess I will be watching anyway, doing so with your permission and awareness makes it all so much more delicious. Is there anything else?”

At least he’s honest about being creepy, Tim thinks, because that’s all he can think. “Not until you have a solution.”

“Not yet.”

“And my offer?”

This has to be a them, not a him. “John?”

I need to think.

“Fair enough.” There’s the sound of a chair rolling back.

He’s standing.

Tim stands, too. He doesn’t know what to do. This hadn’t gone at all how he’d hoped.

“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” says Bouchard with a sort of dark glee.

“Right,” says Tim. “Thanks, I… guess.”

“Here. I do hope you change your minds.”

He’s holding out a business card.

Tim takes it on automatic.

It sounds like Bouchard opens the door.

Tim walks out.

With every step, his heart feels heavier.

He’d been so sure solutions would be here. Immediate ones. Telling himself that had kept him going all morning. But now…

There wasn’t help. There was the possibility of help, with the cost of loss of privacy—which he might have lost anyway, just by coming here.

None of this feels good. Tim sighs, fishing for his earbuds.

Someone gasps.

Tim, there’s an old woman looking at us. She… something about her is very dangerous. Something about her… Tim, I think she can see me. Fuck this place.

“Good for her,” mutters Tim, who has decided merely seeing John does not qualify one for anything. “Am I still going right?”

Yes. The door is three steps ahead.

“Leave it,” says Bouchard behind them.

Tim doesn’t think that was for him, and he feels for the door handle.

“Elias, you can’t be serious,” says the old woman’s voice—old but strong, frustrated.

What, had she been about to do something to them?

Tim is sure of it. Sure of it, and doesn’t know why.

Hurry. Apparently, John is sure of it, too.

Tim hurries.

Stairs just ahead. Take your time.

Tim does, one step at a time, using the excuse of concentration to be silent. He wipes his leaky eyes.

Are you all right?

“No. Gonna have to be, though, apparently, because I don’t want to take his deal.”

I promise you, Bouchard will be watching us regardless of what we do; it’s the nature of the Power he serves. It only makes sense to benefit from it, given that we will pay either way.

“Well, fuck that guy, then,” says Tim. “I guess consent isn’t on some fear god’s radar.”

I don’t know why you ever thought it would be. You’ve reached the last step. Where now?

“I don’t know. I’m trying to think. Can I just walk somewhere? Get away from this place?”

Walk to your right. There isn’t much traffic. I may have an idea, but I need to… weigh the pros and cons.

“Right.” So Tim walks, and doesn’t speak again until he’s found a comfortable pace and position that seems to keep him from smashing into anyone.

It works better than Tim would have thought. John directs, corrects, and says nothing of substance.

Tim is deep in thought. A lot happened here.

He’s always thought of himself as deeply pragmatic. That means tackling this with an open mind, and organizing it in lists as quickly as possible, ready to absorb new rules. “So,” he says. “A few things.”

Hm? says John, sounding distracted.

“First, you were scared in there.”

Yes. At least John can admit that honestly. I know you’re new to this, so it may seem like nothing to you—but neither of those people should have been able to see me, much less hear me. I am deeply startled.

“Right,” said Tim. “And by saying that, you’re revealing you’ve done this so often that you have a ‘normal’ in your head, so that’s a whole thing.”

Not as often as you think. I’ve spent most of my time in this world in that book.

Tim’s not sure he believes that. “They didn’t recognize you, though.”

No. They did not, or I would have urged you to run like a cat on fire.

Tim smiles weakly. “Hell of an image. Look, what did you do that you have to hide from everyone? You said you’d tell me after.”

It isn’t so much what I’ve done, John says slowly. It is what I am. You were correct in that earlier assumption: I am… rare. Endangered, in fact.

Tim has a feeling John isn’t using that word casually. “So what are you?”

A being. Rare. Powerful, in my own right, though as you can tell by our current situation, I’ve been robbed of my body.

“Where is your body?”

In another plane of existence, friend. Quite out of reach, I’m afraid.

“Are you dead?” He has to ask.

No.

“Are you… what, a prisoner?”

Tim… I really don’t feel like answering these right now.

“Promise broken. I‘m keeping track,” says Tim, but only half means it. “So there’s you, antlered-tentacled-whatever-the-fuck. There’s fear-gods.There’s accidental priests. So… are there good fairies, or something? Wishing wells? Forest spirits of mercy, or kindness, or whatever?”

No. The lack of hesitation is upsetting. There are no beneficent fairies. No good and kind spirits waiting to freely give of themselves to mortals in need. Everything that exists only does so because it has not been eaten or used by something else, including yourself—from your immune system to your choices, you also fight to survive.

This is different from John’s usual calming tone. It’s not crazy-smooth; it’s just quiet, and Tim suddenly feels like this is the first time John has been genuinely gentle with him.

Tim’s throat feels tight. “Bit of a downer, there,” he manages after a minute. “So what do we do?”

You truly don’t feel what he offered was worth what he asked?

“Just being in that building made me feel like hitting something, and that isn’t like me. I started to get angry, over, just… nothing. No. Whatever price I have to pay to get out of this, I’m not losing myself for it. That guy didn’t even have a solution, anyway. Just a what-if. Not worth it.”

Yes… yes. John sounds thoughtful . That’s a good way of looking at it. The cost cannot be one’s self.

Tim isn’t done. “And just so you know, John? Maybe I am surviving , like everybody else here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make choices and be a good person and help other mortals in need.”

Seeing yourself as the hero, are you?

Tim snorts. ”No. I’d be a cheerfully bisexual bard, at best. I just mean… I don’t know. You make every living thing sound like an asshole, and I don’t think all of us are.”

John chuckles. A slutty bard? Really?

“It’s a DND ref- wait. You understood that?”

Yes. I’m familiar with the trope. I’m merely amused you used it.

“That has some implications, holy shit. How the hell are you familiar with an internet meme? How much time have you spent here?”

Not everyone who kept this book was only a cultist. Some of them were nerds.

Tim is flabbergasted. “What, did they just keep you on the table while scrolling through The Adventure Zone?”

Sometimes.

This doesn’t feel like the full truth. There’s something else John is not saying here, but Tim doesn’t know how to get at it. “I can talk to you in memes,” he says instead. “I’m going to be insufferable.”

John chuckles. Ah… I do like you, Tim.

That sounded regretful? Odd. Why would he…

Or maybe Tim just feels paranoid thanks to whatever the hell that place was. “How does anyone even manage to work there without all becoming axe murderers?” he mutters.

I believe if you are inclined toward the type of fear and information-gathering that god prefers, it grants some sanity so you can keep feeding it. I’ve seen the like.

“A whole fear-god economy. Fuck me, that’s wild.”

Indeed.

“And by the way—what was all that ‘mine’ stuff about?”

John sighs. I apologize. I could feel the Power feeding on you, and I thought perhaps it would respect some kind of… prior claim. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“So you’re not a lot familiar with that thing.”

No. Enough to know that one isn’t much of a danger to me—but others like it must be avoided.

“Did one of those fear-gods send the monsters to my parents’ house?”

Yes.

Tim laughs weakly. “Wow. So they’re actively after you. Fuck. John, you’ve got to have a better idea what to do.”

I have an idea, if you’re willing to try it—but first, you need to eat. Your physical form has needs; Bouchard was right about that. Man shall not live by peanut butter alone.

It is deeply unnerving to hear all these deeply human references used with such familiarity. “I don’t want to try dealing with a restaurant. Find me a take-out place.”

Keep going. I’ll get you there.

He couldn’t believe himself anymore. A tiny part of him is beginning to wonder if, somehow, his family might be cursed.

It’s going to be okay, Tim tells himself on repeat. It’s going to be okay.

———-

NOTES:

Do I hear that description of the King in Ben Meredith’s voice? Yes. Yes, I do.

#tma #malevolent #tma fic #malevolent fic #tim stoker #kiy malevolent #Jonathan sims #elias bouchard #corrupted fic

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bagelwithcreamcheeseandham · 9 months

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Advil vs Aleve for period cramps: my experience

Very recently, I've started using naproxen sodium (Aleve) instead of ibuprofen (Advil) for cramps, which I've pretty much been using for the 10 years I've had my period, and I want to talk about it.

Using this pain scale, my avg cramps are a 3-5. My "bad" cramps are 7-8 and spike to a 9.

When I take ibuprofen, it works fast and takes away the cramps almost completely, unless I have "bad" cramps, then it feels like it does nothing and I will still have the level 7-8 pain. I typically take 2 ibuprofen at a time, every 4 hours or as needed. This is sometimes tricky because I have to time it right. If I'm feeling fine at the 4-hour mark and forget to reload on ibuprofen, the cramps will come back with a fury, like I got hit by a bus. I also find that ibuprofen will lighten my (very heavy) flow, I do not get that with Aleve.

With Aleve, I take one every 8 hours, so less opportunity to forget and it lasts longer. It lowers the pain but doesn't seem to completely take it away as ibuprofen does. However, it does seem like it "caps" it off at a level 5*. Since I've been taking the Aleve, I haven't had the mind-bending, full-body sweating, writhing around wishing I was dead, pain (which for me starts at 8). But I have had much longer stretches of time where I am in 2-5 level pain. This is new for me since starting Aleve.

Being in these levels of pain for hours at a time is draining, physically and mentally. Whenever I have bad, 7-9 level cramps, even if it only lasts like two hours or less, the rest of the day is literally a blur, I'm so out of it. And even with the 2-5 level pain, being in that state for hours is exhausting. Hours at a time, multiple times a day where I am sort of unable to focus or do anything but scroll tiktok, and maybe sip some tea. Today and yesterday, I basically spent half the day in bed. I didn't have any pain above level 4, maybe 5, but after so many hours of it, I was just so drained I couldn't do anything else.

All said and done, I do prefer the naproxen sodium (Aleve).

With Aleve, I'm in upper mid-low pain for longer periods of time, but do not have my "bad" cramps. With Ibuprofen, the majority of the time I'm in mid-low or even no pain, but level 7-9 severe pain is always a possibility looming in the background. It's almost like Aleve takes the entirety of my cramps, and spreads it evenly through the week, while Ibuprofen takes my cramps and sprinkles it unevenly, giving me periods of time that I feel fine, and periods of time that I'm in the worst pain I've ever felt in my life.

And I would much rather be compromised for 2 days with mid cramps than ever feel a level 9 cramp again.

*Also worth noting, this is after ~10 years of using ibuprofen and 2 months of using Aleve, so there is the possibility that for the past 2 months, I just haven't had my "bad" cramps. If I remember, I'll come back to this post in a few months and drop an update on how it's going.

#chronically ill #chronic pain #menstruation #menstrual cramps #cramps #period cramps #periods #eds #hypermobility

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ephemeral-afterlight · 2 years

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quite whack of me to let myself be perceived online but scrolling through roughly 3 years-ish worth of some of my greatest hits has led me to a few realizations

me from 2-3 years ago was a dramatic fuck and cannot be held accountable for any crimes against cringe law committed during a time of high emotional vulnerability and also god complex

it seems like half of the badass people i used to be friends with here have deactivated and are lost in the wind and i am fucking devastated. where did kitkatz go. where is jelly. why can i not be confident enough to slide in the dms of the cool people who ARE still here

when i wasn't taking absolutely every fucking thing to heart and then spewing out emotionally-charged drivel like a perpetually online little bitch, some of my written analyses slapped. they were actually so articulate and coherent. unlike anything else i say ever

holy shit i am so glad i got off tumblr when i did because otherwise i might still be here now, unhappy as fuck, supporting purity culture 🤢 the amount of times i decided to make anti-remrom posts instead of caring about my mental wellbeing and dealing with my trauma in a healthy way is genuinely kinda hilarious looking back at it now. Weewooweewooweewoo I am going to cry on the internet to people who write fanfic about figments of imagination. Weewooweewooweewoo I am so morally superior because I echo all the rhetoric that my friends do and am scared to dissent. like shut the fuck up and try touching grass for once bestie 🥰 ur depressed and have no sense of self so u steal ur opinions from the nearest person who will give you attention, ur not special, get over urself

bro i am so much sexier now than i ever was when i was on here wallowing in negativity for hours at a time and that is a scientific fact

i do remember my interactions with my friends here extremely fondly but in general this fandom was an actual shitshow for a very long time and altho i can't speak to how it is recently, i refuse to make excuses for the absolute nightmare that was ts sides tumblr from clbg to svs era. reading through old debates and all the times i got pissed about tagging only speaks to that

loving note to my past self: tagging is very important in ways that i could go into a lot more coherently another time but it does not warrant all caps screaming and crying and pissing and shitting. calm down for once and turn your phone off

i am so "problematic" now according to past me's standards and i take pride in that actually. dark fiction fucking rocks and "problematic" writers have been some of the coolest, smartest, kindest people i've ever met. i think jasper circa 2019 would have keeled over if he knew i'd be saying this eventually, but—barring a few very specific examples, you can separate fiction from reality, actually, and Mr. 25-Follower-Tumblr-Nobody's remrom fanfiction will never have the real-life influence and power that ACTUAL propaganda in mainstream media has. the character growth from delusion to enlightenment on my part was absolutely legendary, pure poetry

man in general i'm so glad limiting my time on this account helped prompt me to grow up a little more. i've been an adult, but getting away from here and into healthier spaces in turn gave me healthier outlooks on life and made me realize that acceptance from self-righteous randos on the internet is absolutely not worth limiting my own creativity and destroying my mental health + confidence over it

past me predicted like the entirety of the pof video and i cannot believe i never fucking talked about it like WHAT that shit is crazy did y'all see that???? i recited some of the EXACT points and situations they brought up in that video i cannot stop thinking about this

anyway sexies i still don't intend to be active in this fandom because i just,. man i don't fixate on it anymore. i still appreciate the posts and will stay up-to-date on all the vids but i think for now i'm staying checked out of the ts sides fandom.

if anyone even sees this (especially if we were friends before!) and u have any desire to reconnect with me i am so down! current biggest interests are kpop (as always), mcyt, and mcu, but i've been in so many goddamn fandoms over my two decades of life that you could talk to me about most things and i'd be able to contribute something.

i actually fully expect this post to lose me followers bc my stance on purity culture has changed so drastically, but i actually think it will be incredibly funny more than anything. if u want a more in-depth explanation on my thoughts, motivations, and moral standings, you can always shoot me a message :*

#i'm not gonna do the main tags bc idk that this is particularly relevant enough #fandom criticism #jasper's rambles #purity culture criticism #remrom mentions #idk what else to tag #ask to tag #I DON'T REMEMBER HOW TUMBLR WORKS LMAO

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eliecasa · 1 year

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warnings: innuendos.

summary: everyone knew from the moment reader joins task force 141, that they were pretty weird. but they didn’t exactly know that they were working with someone who lacked a filter

wrdcnt: 2.4K

tip: 10 fold means “all in”

Laswell takes a moment from her and John’s conversation to see why you could’ve been zoning out for the last two minutes. And of course, it’s none other than Ghost minding his business and leisurely scrolling down his timeline. There’s a small flutter in your eyes that she smirks at.

You’d rather your eyes to dry out than to look away from a man who’s face you’ve only seen once.

Most would assume that’s why you were so infatuated with the nearly mute man at the end of the bar but it would only be 100% wrong. From the moment you were shipped away from your country and assigned to force 141, he was the first thing you really wanted to get done.

Even when you told him that in front of the rest of them, not a slick of shame seeped into your veins.

“Ghosty, you teaming with Soap today? I could use you.” He blinks at you but continued to follow you with a small sense of urgency. If someone on his team needed help, you could always count on Ghost to be there at your beck and call.

The two of you catch up to Price and Gaz just as he finally asks the obvious question needed. “What do ya’ need y/n?”

You swivel and smile brightly.

“What I need you for can’t be done in public.”

A stale silence passes over the group before Gaz lets outs a small whistle. Ghost does his best to keep your gaze but he started to feel that the more he stared, the more you wanted to make it a reality. So for his sake, he finds himself stepping back from you and shaking his head.

Gaz comments, “Real smooth, L/N”

Both him and Price seem to be pleasantly amused at your bluntness but Ghost totally contrasted the air.

“Fuckin’ hell.” he walks past you, making sure to keep his distance so that you wouldn’t stare a hole into his head.

You ready your rifle and shrugged.

“Worth a shot.”

‎‏‏‎

And then there was that time where both you and Ghost were set to do overwatch for Alejandro and Soap. This occurrence was probably the most memorable for your team merely because, Ghost finally seemed to give in to your flirtation, but only a little bit.

‎‏‏‎

You mount your sniper and find a semi-comfortable position in the rubble to watch Alejandro’s back. Both you and Ghost were separated by a couple of football fields but no way were you going to let him have his peace.

“Ghosty, How’s your view?”

“Clear, sights on both of em. How’s yours?”

You dramatically sigh, checking the plain landscape. “Not so beautiful… I could go for your face instead.”

A couple of moments pass until he’s back on his com, responding with slight curiosity in his deep and grave voice.

“What are you implying, y/n??”

“Seeing…” you smirk and re-angle your rifle, making sure to double task.

“Did you think I meant sitting?”

“I wouldn’t accuse you of anything”

For once, you have to physically stifle yourself from busting out in a haughty laugh and he smirks a little bit when hears a muffled noise come from your com. Maybe you were trying to prevent yourself from screeching like a thirsty fan or perhaps he was a little funnier than planned. One side of him hopes it was the first option.

You have to heavily sigh to end the laugh terror that dares to sway your focus. It only takes a second for you to calm but that funny bone of yours remained tickled.

“Sometimes it’s good to assume, yea? You see that snipe ducked underneath a pillar?”

“Take em. I’ve got another behind a truck.”

You hum and take the shot, immediately killing the hidden shooter without any trouble. Ghost follows and whistles, “He’s down.”

“Ghosty.”

“I hear.”

“What's the difference between hungry and horny?” you bite your lip, trying to suppress the childish giggle that dares to rip from your throat. He makes a somewhat tired noise through his coms before speaking. “What’s that?”

“Where you put the cucumber.”

“I bet you would…” he lingers and falls silent on the coms as you bristle and even look out of your optical for a moment to realize what he was implying. “Oh piss off Ghost.”

He laughs and you can even feel the smirk in his voice.

“Nice one wasn’t it?”

‎‏‏‎

The most important time, and also the first time you flirted with him in front of people, was literally when Price came in and told everyone that you were all setting out to eliminate Graves for what he’s done.

You were there, talking with Rodolfo about getting a golden rifle for the sake of signature when Captain Price, Alejandro, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap came out with an extra prep in their step. Alejandro is quick to take the bustle out of the room as he called for attention, immediately turning the atmosphere serious.

Respectfully, you stand up and listen to Price but not before subtly glancing at Ghost. Things have been terribly hectic lately and the two of you rarely teamed up so that little yearning side of you was very deprived. He was just so tall and bulky, it was like a drought not being able to at least try to sneak him like you usually would.

Too bad so sad.

Anywho, you obtain and listen well. Price claims you all as one, making you nod and smile. Unity was always the funnest part about all of this. Someone having your back and you having theirs was just a great feeling of certainty and determination. It’s like constant adrenaline.

Your gaze is taken away from the table and instead turned to Ghost as he leant down to grab a duffle bag. The contents of the bag are dumped out onto the table. It turns out to be multiple skull balaclavas in two different styles. “Oh…” you’re in awe for a moment, glancing at Ghost with a tiny smirk. He gave you a small nod whilst Price called you all the “Ghost Team.”

What a sweet new name.

But if that wasn’t enough to up your mood, Ghost is tugging off his Balaclava before you’re even able to work up another breath to breathe. Maybe those lungs of yours were fruitless, because the sight of this man’s chiseled and stubble covered jaw turned you into a zombie. It felt like your heart stopped as you shamelessly marveled at the color of his hair and the hidden pinkness of his cheeks.

“Hot damn Ghost, you’re hot.”

“Damn right.” Soap agrees.

A hushed chuckle passes over the group as Ghost diverts his gaze to the table, seemingly interested in the balaclavas spread across it. “Oh don’t be shy Ghosty, you know the truth.”

He looks at you through his lashes and his lips even part to say something back but Price is quick to speak before him. “Good to see you again Simon…”

The corner of your lip progressively rises the more he stays silent. Perhaps Ghost was a bit shy without his mask. Any other time, he has some sort of backhanded comment but it seems that the new exposure has rendered him silent.

Price turns the attention back to the task once he’s done looking at Ghosts face.

“If you’re in, take a mask. If you’re not, don’t.”

Everyone appeared to dumbly stare at each other but you’re quick to grab a random mask, staring Ghost down as you did.

“Hell yea, anything for him.”

‎‏‏‎

But now, you had a new epiphany. Your mind and your pride was getting a little tired of Ghost. When you told Laswell about it a few weeks back, you really expected for her to say that she wouldn’t recommend pursuing a team member but she actually gave you a small tip that could take you a mile.

“He probably doesn’t think you’re serious… you do come off really playful.”

It made you squeak in protest but after a couple of hours, you realized that she was legitimately correct this time. As if telling him that you wanted to sit on his face was direct enough. Something had to be seriously wrong with Simon. Your brows pinch in anger as you bite off the last of your peppermint candy cane. He was going to hear this and he was going to understand that you were serious.

“Go get em tiger.” Laswell whispers to you, momentarily taking you by surprise before you nod and slid off of your stool. Your ankles nearly buckled in nervousness but you’re quick to fix your posture as you basically stomped over to Ghost. Gaz couldn’t help but to look over his shoulder when you passed him. A chill shot down his spine, causing him to to give you a concerned look when he asks, “You alright Y/N?”

“Let em go. They’ve got a mission of their own.” Soap slapped a hand on Gaz’s shoulder. You mentally thank him but kept your gaze locked with the man who was already expecting you. Ghost was overly attentive at times so it’s no surprise that he’s already looking up at you.

“We… need to speak about something.”

His eyes survey your figure and the scrutiny makes you tremble a little. You’ve never been scared to be honest but this one moment was actually important and will determine how you will act around him for the rest of your partnership.

When he looks back up, you’re still bravely looking into his dark and deep eyes. Your confidence is always impressive.

“Lets go, then.” He settles his cell onto the bar top and stood from his stool, immediately towering over you on purpose. The feeling of being so small in front of him sends a heat wave over your skin. Everything about a tall and big man like him acting so subtly bossy was everything you needed. You almost get lost in your thoughts but he reminds you that you’re still not moving.

“Lead the way.”

“… Come on.” you feign assertiveness and lead the way outside of the lonely bar. The chill of the early winter made you jitter a little but you do nothing to show that its bothering you as Ghost stuffs his hands into his black cargo jeans, leaning against the brick wall of the pub. The green neon of the ‘OPEN’ sign glosses over the abyss of his eyes but you shut your eyes and began to pace, scissoring your hands to calm down a little bit.

“Man you are… frustrating.”

He tilts his head, watching every step you take and he asks “How would I be?”

“Cause you always think I’m joking. Do you think i’m a joke?”

You stop and stare back at him.

“Not sure you want me to answer that…”

He dodges yet another question, leaving you breathless as you heave. You’re left with nothing but the direct truth. “I wanna kiss you. Like, so bad.”

Due to him wearing a balaclava that showed the entirety of his eyes, you can see the way his face twists and swerves in a multiple of emotions. Like you’d just broken an expensive vase, you find yourself slowly backing away and palming your freezing cheeks. Embarrassment made you close your eyes as you began to pace once again.

“You’re just all hot and tall and so quiet— I don’t know… It’s not even your face alone that makes me attracted to you. Its your voice, your attitude, your wit—“

That classic heavy chuckle comes from the brick wall, causing you to freeze like a deer in headlights with your face stuffed into your hands.

“Well come over here… and maybe I’ll let you.”

You can only hear the cold bristle of the wind for a couple of heavy moments until you speak, peaking through your fingers before instantly covering your eyes again.

“Say that again?”

“Come here… or don’t. You’re the one who wants to feel me.”

If possible, you would pinch your eyes shut even harder due to the way he worded it. Nobody said they wanted to feel him. You merely said you wanted to kiss him… he made it seem like you wanted to… have sex with him. Well, maybe he’s right but you never mentioned that.

Slowly, you allow your hands to slide away from your face as you stared at the damp brick pavement underneath your boots. “No games?”

“10 fold.”

As much as you wanted to act shy and unsure, your body is quick to run back to him. You didn’t hear or see him take off the balaclava which was now clenched in his right hand but you’ll worry about that once you’re done kissing the lips off of him. From the hazed gloss in his eyes, you could probably even say that he’s been thinking of this for as long as you were.

Your hand is quick to find his cheek as his hand smoothly takes you by the waist. The heat that his body gives yours is welcoming and comforting just as a fireplace would be. For a long time, you’ve always wondered what it would feel like to snuggle up to Simon Riley. It took a long time and a lot of honesty but hell, can you complain with this outcome?

Gently, you take his jaw in between your fingers and bring his face down. And finally, his plump and warm lips make contact with yours. In your mind, you thought it’d be more of a movie-romantic type of kiss but the longing over never having intimate contact for such a long time gets the best of him. He stands to his full height and you chase his lips, not wanting to break away for a second. Of course, he doesn’t let it happen and even grabbed your waist with both of his hands.

The warmth of his tongue is welcomed into your mouth and you’re quick to let him take the lead with it, not wanting to put up a fight anymore. The two of you fall into a heated rhythm of kissing and twisting. He bathes in the way your hands caress his face before you lock your arms around his neck to tug him impossibly closer.

Those butterflies in your stomach are screaming and celebrating at a dream come true. Never had you though that you’d actually manage to feel Ghost in such an intense way. Things like this only happened in your dreams so it was pretty dizzying to be so passionate with him right now.

You find yourself lost in him. Time slips from your fingers as you bite his lip and kissed the spot after. Surely, your friends needed you back in the bar to discuss one last thing but you couldn’t help it, especially with the iron grip he had on your waist.

Oh well, they’ll understand.

was sooo scared because i was sure i had a writers block.

#call of duty imagines #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley fluff #reader insert

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tarotnoob · 2 years

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PAC: Solar eclipse messages. What are you releasing, manifesting?

April 30 new moon in Taurus/black moon/solar eclipse - explore what messages the universe has for you + what you might be releasing/manifesting + any advice from Spirit.

Choose whatever pile(s) call to you & scroll for your messages.

Pile 1

Pile 1 is delightfully straightforward. I think for a while you might have struggled feeling like you were worthy - of other people's time, of them having the patience to hear how you feel or what you think. Maybe at times you felt small, as if you didn't matter much to others, or you had to scream to get your voice heard. And then you wondered - is it me? Why do people disrespect me? Why don't they prioritize me? Why does it feel like I'm the one doing more or I'm the only one who cares or I'm the only one trying to speak up about how I feel - but it just doesn't seem like you've been given the respect you deserve. But, after this solar eclipse and for this new moon - you're going to be ready to start fresh, potentially with a new perspective or approach, especially when it comes to how you communicate your thoughts and feelings, boundaries, etc... with others.

Releasing: 5 of wands

Manifesting: 2 of cups

Sometimes you might not always approach sharing your feelings or what makes you upset or how you want to do something in the most calm way, but that may come from a build up of frustration that no one seems to be listening? But, the more you get worked up or angry or have conflict with others, the less inclined they'll be to listen. It may feel like the universe has put out a lot of resistance to make you feel that things aren't going your way no matter what you try - I do see that it's felt like a lot of things were an uphill battle, possibly with lots of external obstacles coming at you, that any progress felt like you had to work 10x harder than other people - BUT

If you remain open to this new energy without reflecting on what didn't work in the past, you are going to find yourself manifesting better relationships for yourself, or - rather - these relationships may feel more equal, balanced - but it also requires letting go of that angst or that feeling of insecurity or unworthiness. It's possible those feelings alone were attracting other people with a lower or different frequency, ones just not right for you.

Whether this is about platonic or romantic or familial relationships - I bet in the last even six months, it felt like there was an abnormal amount of tension with a lot of people at once, for no particular reason. I think within the next week or two, that's... going to shift, but it still requires things on your part:

I think that will be shedding naturally or forcefully, so what you can expect is 2 of cups - more mutually respectful relationships, more of a feeling of balance within relationships and even within yourself. You go from climbing up steep mountains at night while carrying torches to this peaceful two of cups, hanging out in the ocean with someone who's not trying to be behind or in front of you - it's just two people on equal footing, a lot of affection, trust, etc...

I also want to point out that some of the self-worth or confidence issues might come from something you think you need to change about yourself physically, whether it's looks or something to do with your body or age. I won't argue about any of that because if you want to get in better shape or change your hair or do something like that but I think in terms of what the cards are saying, those things don't actually dictate your real value and shouldn't stop you from doing the things you want to do or feeling like you have to settle or that it's okay for people to treat you differently because of XYZ. I think the cards just want to let you know that you're worthy, and the reasons you think you aren't worthy need to be released.

clear, honest, calm communication with others

recognizing that you're good enough and worthy

---

Staying open to new possibilities and new beginnings - keeping that optimistic attitude instead of going well we fought last week, we'll fight again this week. No, just throw it all way and consider it like turning a whole new page or at least fake it til you make it

Pile 2

I can already see in the first two piles that the eclipse/new moon are having similar effects and messages for folks. It might seem strange to release "strength" but I think the time out and balance oracles will help put this into better perspective. The balance card is all about making sure you're nurturing yourself - you have probably given so much to other people but haven't been prioritizing you, so I feel like your "strength" of character has been your detriment. Even in the image, this person may be helping this lion, but it still bit her :)

Release: Strength

Manifest: 7 of pentacles

So, it's kind of like you've been wearing yourself out doing a bunch of stuff, for others - BECAUSE you're a decent human being. But, while it's great to be a good person, there can be an issue of inner balance when you don't devote time for yourself - for your own hobbies, to reenergize, to work on your own projects, etc... so in time out (which the image to me even looks like a peace sign and you have the peace card that says "i create peace, prosperity and joy in my life" - this makes me feel like you need to become the figure in 7 of pentacles. 7 of pentacles is a slow down card, it's a time to set intentions for long-term plans, but mostly I just see this plus time out plus peace as messages for you to... have a Hermit moment in life. I think you're going to release this need to take care of everyone or be the strong one or always go go go going and not having enough time for yourself... and release that whole martyr complex and... take a time out, you have to be the one who creates that time FOR yourself, but... I think just manifesting more time, more solitude, more focus on you and what you want to do, stop to smell the roses and all that... it just doesn't feel like things have been balanced for a while or you haven't even had time to catch your breath. Do some yoga, sit and bed and instead of scrolling - read a book or meditate.

In addition, we have communication is key which is a similar message that pile 1 received. You want to make sure you're communicating calmly and clearly with others so that you're HEARD; you want to make sure you have clear boundaries with people who may be asking too much of you. Even if it's family - like at some point, you can just say - I just don't have the energy to commit to that and need to recharge before I can start helping everyone else. That's... part of self love and self worth. You can't really take care of everyone else if you aren't taking care of your own health.

It - since it's gemini - makes me also think you might be kind of mentally exhausted and need a break anyway, like your mind has been going a mile a minute for some time, everything's been so fast-paced and too many people all over the place.

With, a personal issue reaches resolution - ofc, that can be anything under the sun, but I think it goes back to a lot of (personal) interactions and happenings in life might come to a pause so that you can have a personal retreat... I think there are times where we need to go inward and kind of sort out what we've been thinking or feeling. Just like when you go to sleep and then your brain has to process through all that junk and you end up with weird af dreams. Like, you need to do that when you're awake... but overall... I feel like you're being pushed to attempt a "zen" mantra after this eclipse. Be more zen, feel more zen, act more zen - hopefully you're manifesting calm and walks in nature and alone time and better boundaries.

I see a lot of imagery that shows it's really being pushed for you to spend some time in nature and ground yourself, do meditation, know when you need to retreat from too many personal interactions or too many responsibilities. Release responsibilities, attachments, codependent friendships or relationships, all these feelings that you always need to take care of everyone and everything and be strong all the time without actually like... feeling your feels or showing them or sharing them, even... maybe you've been bottling lots of stuff in, and you're also being urged to share that shit or if it's too hard for you to handle all on your own, ask for help, etc... but from what I see - the hope is to release all that stress and manifest more... calm.

---

Pile 3

Ironically, I clarified bc I was worried about the 3 of swords thing... but all of the oracles are kind of saying the same thing... well and Pile 1 had a similar message but I think the eclipse and new moon in Taurus are just wanting people to be sent through a similar type of energy that would have pretty close to the same cleansing thing everyone is gonna go through... but in particular this seems a rather anxious group at least up until now.

Wow, you were the ones to pull New Moon in Taurus, way to go!

Releasing: Knight of Wands clarified by 8 of swords

Manifesting: 3 of swords clarified by 2 of swords

Free spirit talks about... when we don't believe in something or are thinking of only the worst or thinking of all the ways things can fail - that's what we end up attracting. New Moon in Taurus is also about either having a financial question OR... issues of self worth and work through your fears also fits in that same category.

So, with this pile, we're talking about a lot of self-confidence and self-worth issues.

With that in mind, it makes sense that one could potentially be manifesting their own heartbreak. I'm not saying that you ARE and I'm going to give other interpretations later - but I think it's just the universe reiterating the oracle message which is - you are someone who... may be your own worst enemy, that when you don't think you can or when you are cynical or you have all these doubts - you attract exactly what you fear. But what's interesting is this 2 of swords here to clarify that 3 of swords because it even looks like someone (blindfolded for safety) looking up at the eclipse but at a crossroads - they might be blocking out what's "new" that's coming in, they don't want to see this shift or change, it may even be that you're often worried when it comes to making a choice if there's a right or wrong path and then have a meltdown over which way to go. I think it's - all of those things, honestly to the point that making a big decision might have left you petrified and drooling - all understandable.

So, even though the universe wants to give you good things because it has no reason not to, I think often times you stand in the way of these things because there is a fear... there's even a fear about getting what you want? Like, even the idea of success and prosperity might be scary to you because you've gotten so used to nothing going your way?

But, I think one of the best cards for advice to look at is the explore card. Despite everything going on in your head... it's about following your passions, following your heart and as long as you're following that particular feeling of desire, then... that's the way to know which direction to go. I think that would be helpful for those who are indecisive or who don't even want to move forward bc it's just too scary or too much responsibility. But, for example - you want to be a graphic designer... but right now really all you know is how to draw but you don't fully grasp all the software... so it's like what do I do? I can't apply for these jobs yet - like okay well out of a fjdas;fjsa; bajillion ways you can go you have a very SOLID idea of a direction to head - wherever you have to go to do what you want. This could be going to get a degree in graphic design, taking classes for that particular software; it could be starting at an entry level design job where you can be mentor'd by a designer with more experience or you can begin teaching yourself how to do it. The point is, you don't have ZERO direction, you know you want to do this so you go that way. It can be any situation like that but sometimes I think some of you are just kind of like WHAT DO I DO NEXT as if you're listless but... there's always something even if your circumstances make it difficult and when you latch on to what you WANT you can start thinking about STEPS you can take.

But let's look at other interpretations of the card besides wanting to beat you over the head with a message/point.

If you were to release knight of wands clarified by 8 of swords... well we know 8 of swords is a lot like I was already talking about. It's these self imposed limits on your situation or what you can do or the choices you have as if you've told yourself you can't or your hands are tied. But knight of wands is that energy of movement, creativity, wanting to see things get done, a desire to see change... so I think that you will be releasing this mental backwalking you tend to do about a lot of things even when you have a desire to do SOMETHING MORE than you are now, but there's some type of fear you've had about putting yourself out there or like following that creative path or having that impulse to do something without a plan... it's like you catch yourself up before you can even start and then you're tripping down the stairs - so that's why I think you're releasing... self doubt, typical Devil card traits... but it's all you. It's no one else is doing it here but you. You've trapped yourself for... in my mind it feels like ... a long time, really not pushing yourself or having the confidence to do what you truly want. There's been some serious self worth issues tied into all that why haven't you followed your DREAMZ.

Now, let's talk about this what you're manifesting. 3 of swords. I think.... >.> it's a warning tbh. I think it is that you have a tendency to break your own heart and if you KEEP on this way, you'll continue to not see any movement and you'll see more disappointment BUT i do think the offer is out there by the universe that it wants you to see something as if looking (or not looking) at this eclipse might offer you some type of insight... self insight... for you to reflect on your patterns of behavior and then recognize that no one else is doing it but you and then taking responsibility for being in that going nowhere cycle. It's like hey bro don't look at me, it's not me, if you look at me, you're going to realize that you're the answer.

It's not fun but I think you're manifesting a cold hard truth... self realization... big ol' fat downloads that are like "ok you gotta start gettin' your shit together"

But, when you work through all of this and release all of that - I do think literally prosperity lies ahead. Like, that's what the new moon and eclipse are doing for you in this particular "Taurus" season moment... after doing some deep scorpio-level soul searching this weekend, maybe then you'll feel more free and then you'll be ready to charge forward like this bull. It's also interesting the 3 of swords makes me think of the stinger on the scoprio too and you're just stinging yourself with your own stinger in order to have these deep revelations... but like I said, you know... rather than give all that energy to negative thinking, put that energy very blindly and stupidly toward your goals or passions and instead of making all these lists in your head about why it's too silly or why it won't work or that you're too old or too inexperienced, like... just... go where your passion leads. Want to be a vet? Like, go to vet school, start with applying or you can work at a vet without vet experience and be a tech, you can foster pets or start a whole boarding thing for animals and save them from shelters. Want to be a famous writer? Want to publish a book? like... write one... self publish, send your shit out to authors, post fanfic until someone famous is like hey do you want to write a script for me (like that happens, lol, for real it does).

i wasn't as harsh on the other two but you remind me of me so i guess i can be that way bc ... i... also... needed to say that to myself. so i guess i'll spend the weekend reflecting on how not to get in my own way by telling myself all those things D:

and as a final note, i see lots of blues, purples and greens for this pile... so throat, crown and heart chakra stuff could be blocked for you. maybe issues expressing yourself clearly to others about how you feel, maybe feeling blocked from your purpose, overthinking about your purpose and what you want to do - just generally seems like being out of alignment spiritually because of a way of thinking and feeling that... would probably just be... your head and heart being enemies to each other and to yourself and then sort of becoming... two people on the same bad page like your heart's like yeah i'm sad and your brain's like yeah bc we suck and your heart's like yeah i give up but IF your brain suddenly went yo i'm gonna do this, your heart would be like holy shit really you think we can and your brain would go yeah bruh let's do. so those two parts have to work in sync to get out of this rut... and then i think your crown will naturally unblock.

.....so think of that this weekend.

#pick a card #tarot #solar eclipse #new moon #pick a pile #spirituality #spiritual advice #spiritual guidance #relationships #goals #free tarot reading #tarot reader #tarot daily #pick a card readings #pac reading #pac #taurus #oracle reading

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sluttywonwoo · 3 years

Text

study buddies || k.mg x reader

Pairing: frat!mingyu x fem reader

Summary: studying for midterms with the guy you’re hooking up with goes exactly how you’d expect

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark ) for my gf’s birthday :)) happy birthday @hotgirlmingyu

Masterlist

You woke up to banging on your apartment door. Groaning, you rolled over to check your phone and saw that it was six am. You pushed yourself up and out of bed and padded into the kitchen to answer the door. You were surprised the relentless knocking hadn’t woken up your roommate, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper.

You yanked the door open to see Mingyu with a handful of textbooks. You squinted at him in confusion, wondering if you were seeing things. Mingyu had never been to your place before, you didn’t even know he knew where you lived.

His appearance startled you a bit. His hair was messy where it was usually slicked back or styled and he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in anything other than khakis and a douchey printed shirt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He frowned. “You said we should study for midterms together.”

You thought back to the last time you’d seen Mingyu. You couldn’t remember saying anything like that.

“Was I drunk?”

“Probably.”

“So why are you here?”

“To study. You agreed that we could help each other out.”

“Mingyu, I don’t even remember agreeing to that.”

“Well I’m already here,” he said and pushed past you into your apartment.

“Seriously? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, and midterms are next week.”

“Couldn’t you have waited until the sun was up?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself and shut the door behind him.

“We’ve got a lot of material to cover.”

You cursed under your breath as you watched him set up at your kitchen table, knowing you should probably study even though you desperately wanted to go back to bed.

You and Mingyu had met at a party at his fraternity and woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of his bed. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but to your horror, you saw him in your stats lecture on Monday and your mythology class on Thursday. This was a pretty big university. Why did the same asshole have to be in two of your classes?

As much as it annoyed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu, and apparently, he was having a similar dilemma because every time you went out he seemed to be there, and every time you hooked up.

That was the extent of your relationship, though. You didn’t even speak to each other in class or at parties. The only time you talked was behind closed doors when one or both of you was naked. Even then you kept your guard up because you refused to let yourself fall for a frat boy with commitment issues who never wanted to be seen with the same girl twice. A boy who wouldn’t even talk to you in public.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered when he said your name as he was about to cum, or the way his lips felt against yours. He could be a total dick, but you’d also seen a softer side of him that he didn’t show many people. You forced yourself to forget about that side. It was easier that way.

“Okay, what are we starting with?” you asked with a sigh.

“We have the stats exam first, we should work on that.”

You made a face. Statistics was the harder out of the two for you. In fact, it was the hardest class you were taking this semester.

“I can’t believe I’m doing math before seven am.”

“You won’t be complaining when you ace the midterm,” he quipped, already working on a practice worksheet.

You watched him solve problems like he was checking items off a list. You knew he was good at statistics, but you didn’t know he was that good. Figures, a guy like him was good at pretty much everything. Everything except mythology apparently, because once you’d switched to that he was flustered and frustrated. You would quiz him on myths only for him to get every single question wrong.

“Mingyu, did you even read any of these?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, y/n, I read every one. How do you think I passed all the reading quizzes?”

“Cheating?” it slipped out before you could stop it and Mingyu gave you a hard glare. You held up your hands defensively. “Just a joke.”

“I don’t think it was.” He licked his lips. “But for what it’s worth I read them all. I just can’t keep them straight.”

You sighed. You felt bad, but you were getting frustrated too. And not just because Mingyu wasn’t grasping the myths. This was the longest you’d ever spent together (at least while you were awake) and you hadn’t even had sex. He just smelled so nice and looked so cute when he was concentrating that you couldn’t help feeling a little impatient. You had been at it for hours, you thought you would’ve done it at least once by now. But Mingyu was more serious about studying than you thought. It was kind of admirable and kind of annoying.

“Okay well reread through the Egyptian myths and I’ll quiz you again.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out his reading packet and flipped to the section you took out your phone and scrolled through social media mindlessly as he read, but it quickly got boring. You wished Mingyu would take a break so he could rail you. He was still reading intently, but you figured a little distraction couldn’t hurt.

You started by taking your hair down from your bun and shaking it out so that it fell around your shoulders. You knew your shampoo drove Mingyu crazy and hoped it would have an effect on him today. He shifted his seat, but didn’t look up from the packet. Next, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. You’d never done something so domestic like this with Mingyu, but it seemed to work because he cleared his throat and adjusted his sweatpants.

“You know you could be working on math.”

You shrugged. “We already did stats for hours today. I think I’ll jump off a bridge if I look at one more differential equation.”

He fell silent and tried focusing back onto the reading, but you moved your hand to his thigh and kept it there as you continued to through twitter, not even reading what was on your screen.

“Stop that,” Mingyu muttered, making you jump a little.

“Why?”

“Fuck, because you’re distracting me. You look too hot right now.”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” you asked lowly and nipped at his ear.

“Need to finish this,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I can’t convince you to take a break?” You moved the hand on his leg up so that you were cupping him over his pants.

He shook his head. “After.”

You leaned over and kissed his neck, then his jaw, and felt him get hard under your hand. “If I have to stop what I’m doing you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

“That sounds like more of a motivator than a deterrent,” you admitted. “I’ll suck you off,” you offered and hooked your thumb in the waistband of his sweats, trying to bribe him.

“If you let me finish I’ll eat you out,” he countered.

You straightened up. It sounded like a pretty good deal.

“Fine.”

A few minutes passed in silence and you were waiting patiently, typing up a rough draft of an essay you had due for another class when Mingyu groaned.

“What?” you asked, wondering if he needed help.

“Can you please stop that?”

“Stop what? I’m literally doing nothing.” You were genuinely confused now.

“Just- I don’t know you’re making it so hard to concentrate.”

“Am I making it hard?” You smirked.

“Very funny.”

“Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?”

“Probably.”

“Come on, keep reading about Osiris.”

“I don’t want to read about Osiris anymore, he’s a dick.”

“The faster you finish the faster you can get off.”

“I thought you didn’t want to wait,” Mingyu pointed out, trying to deflect.

“I think I recall something about you going down on me if I let you finish reading.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t turn back to the book. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those big brown eyes. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What?” You felt your cheeks get warm.

“I just really want to kiss you right now.”

You smiled and raised your chin, challenging him. “Then do it.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment.

When you pulled away, Mingyu’s eyes were dark with want and you could see that he was now fully hard in his sweatpants.

“How about I eat you out now anyway?” He suggested, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

You moaned and brought your hands to his hair.

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Mingyu stood and picked you up from your chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth and smirked.

“Promise you’ll finish studying after?” you asked.

He considered it. “Does what we’re about to do count as studying mythology? Because it’s going to be legendary.”

You scrunched up your face in distaste. “No, I take it back. Put me down.”

Mingyu grinned. “Hey! You know no ones gives it to you as good as I do.”

“That confident are you?”

His grin turned into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

lmk what you think i always appreciated feedback!!

forever tags: @haven-cove

shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

#study buddies #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu x fem reader #mingyu x fem reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x female reader #kim mingyu x female reader #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt smut #svt x reader

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kissbentennyson · 3 years

Note

I have no idea if you'd do this but I need a nega ben x reader. He's my favorite out of the alternates. A softer one shot would be nice but whatever you're feeling is good too! I'll take any content I can get!

*Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica begins to play* Yeah me too.

Nega Ben x Reader | reader uses they/them pronouns, but dresses femininely.

Spill

He’d been waiting all day, and I mean, all day. Classes always seemed to drag on and on longer when he wanted something, and sure, he could have skipped. But that would have taken too much effort not to get caught. He isn’t afraid of the cops or the school administration… But dealing with his parents? Yeah, no. Not worth it. He’d b-lined it across Bellwood, all the way to the “café” he frequented. Truthfully, it wasn't much of a café seeing as how they specialize in more smoothie like drinks, but whatever. It has been rather crowded, too crowded, and everyone just wanted to get in then out.

He should have expected to bump or get bumped into someone, but it didn’t dawn on him until his espresso smoothie was all over your bright pink, fuzzy sweater. Both of you stood there with slack jaws and wide eyes as the brown liquid dripped from your chest and down onto an equally as pink lolita-esque skirt. It looked expensive, not in a daddy's money way, in a “I saved up to buy this” way. And so, he was prepared for hell.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!”

When it left you, Ben was confused. “Gosh, I should have been looking where I was going… But I was too distracted. Ugh, I-” You were flustered , more than actually, embarrassed is the correct word. “Um… Give me a second and I'll buy you a new one…”

“What?”

Watching as you tried to pat away the coffee with one of the recycled paper napkins the café gives out, a million thoughts passed through him. Of course he took the offer, he wanted that coffee. The line was a lot shorter this time around, and got by a lot quicker too. You ordered for him as he zoned out suddenly looking over your shoulder at him. “What?” He asks, watching you get even more flustered. “I just asked if you wanted anything else. Do you?” “Oh, uh, yeah.” he clears his throat, raising his voice. “The kale chips.”

You both walked out together, your head was down and you watched your shoes as you walked. “Again, I’m really sorry.” He glances at you with a slight side eye as he sips on the coffee, this was the gazillionth time you’ve apologized in just the last few minutes. “It’s… whatever.” He lets out a quick and breathy chuckle. “You apologize to me, but I ruined your sweater.” All of the sudden, your embarrassment seemed non-existent. A light and bubbly laugh leaving you. “Ruined? Oh, trust me, I’ll be just fine. I've dealt with worse.”

“Anyways! I have to get home and change, It was nice meeting you!”

The lunch room was beyond packed, packed like the reunion tour of a popular punk band from the 2000's. The doors and tables overflow with hungry and impatient mouths. You had managed to get in before the rush and snag a serving of less than okay school food, but by the time you got out of line, they had all flooded in. People had no concern for others around them, pushing and shoving like toddlers over toys, and you were getting the brunt of it. Not actually, but it sure felt like it.

You were halfway across the room and were looking around the tables for a free space- but it was too late for that already. A body slams into yours hard, you hit the ground as your food falls and splatters all of the chest of the sweater you had just gotten the coffee stain out of. Feet come down around you as you struggle to get up, the other person now looming over you. “Could you have watched where you were going!?” This whole situation was not intentional, but they had no right to get angry at you for that.

You felt the tips of your ears heat, unable to answer. Her eyes bore down on you as she sways with every passing body bumping into her. Suddenly, you feel a hand grab the back of your sweater and pull you from the ground, as if they were scruffing a cat. “Or, maybe you could stop play fighting with your friends in the cafeteria, like a bitch.” Her jaw drops and her freckled face goes red with embarrassment, obviously on the fact that she can't pawn her mistake off on someone else this time. The voice was rather monotone- in a way- compared to the words spoken. And rather familiar.

When you look up it’s the guy from the café, his neutral expression was a thin vale to hide his irritation- at least to you. His hand still had a grip on the back of your shirt, it was a firm hold, and it made you just a tad bit nervous. You swallow as the person swallows her embarrassment, rolling her eyes desperately to try and hide. “Whatever freak, sorry…” she turns and disappears into the crowd. You watch her do so, completely shocked at the situation at hand. Your lips part to say something, but his grip on your sweater releases, being replaced by an arm around your shoulder. Suddenly, you’re being dragged through the crowd and towards the cafeteria door.

He walks you out into the hallway, which is mostly empty at this point. “Thank you.” you choke out through the lump in your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking with you- and you aren’t in any position to object.

Eventually you reach the stairs. Under it is a mostly empty black backpack, and there’s a light reflection of gold from inside. The weight of his arm leaves your shoulders and he walks ahead, sliding under the stairs and sitting with his back to an old AC unit. You hesitate for a moment, you’ve only met this guy one other time… maybe you should just wait…… nah.

Sliding under the stairs right after him, you sit straight across from the guy. He’s already looked away. “I think we have third period together. Your name is Ben, right?” His phone is already out, and he’s scrolling through it. “Well I'm…” you give him your name, and all he does is look up at you with a nod before going back to his phone. The volume is low, but there are noises coming from it, ones you recognize. “Is that the Sumo Slammers mobile game?” There was no judgement in your voice at all, and suddenly the losing end sound plays.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah?” “My little brother is obsessed with that series. He says that the mobile game isn’t that good, but he still played it to the end.” He let out a little huff like laugh through his nose, pressing the power button and finally giving you his full attention. “Yeah, maybe the old one wasn't that good, but this one is a new release- Doesn’t even have dubbed lines yet.” He clears his throat, slouching a bit as his hands slide into his pockets. “Actually, it’s not fully released in the states yet. I got pre access to the game.” He watches you smile, and suddenly there's a slight tense feeling in his chest.

“That’s really cool, are you a beta tester or something?” He shrugs. “No, and it’s whatever.” He glances away, gaze holding on the wall. “Well I think it’s really cool, especially since it's a series you like.” “How do you know that?” His gaze snaps back to you, suddenly defensive. “Your backpack is open and the sun is reflecting off of the cold backing of the trading cards.” You lazily point to the stairs above you, and there is the reflected image of the symbol on the cards. “Those are the collectors additions, from japan. I know because I’ve been looking for that exact deck for my brother.”

You watch as his cheeks dust a light pink color, lightly nudging his bag so it falls over. He starts avoiding eye contact, leaning back fully against the old AC unit. “Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be cleaning up your sweater?” You lean back against the stairs. “Yeah, maybe. But I think you’re kinda cool, and I’d like to stay.”

It was rather silent the rest of lunch, when you tried to hold a conversation- he would end it with short answers that gave you nothing to build off of. The bell rings above you like the screech of an angered bird. You both get up, him raising from the floor before you. You brush the dirt off of the back of your thighs, the light sound of unzipping catching your attention. You watch as the zipper of his hoodie comes down as he pulls it. Yanking it off of his shoulders, revealing the greenish-grey long sleeve he had under it.

“Here. Even if you get the food off, it’ll still stain.” He hands you the coat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the already open flap lolling open even more. “Oh, thank you, I don’t know what to sa-” “Don’t. Don’t say anything. This never happened.” He walks past you and into the crowd of students, with his head down.

You watch as he does so, eventually looking back down at the hoodie in hand. You feel your face just slightly twinge with heat. “Yeah… Alright.” You say under your breath as you rush off to the nearest bathroom to scrub the food scum from your sweater.

It was a game day.

Not that he kept track of that, he had never been into football. Once upon a time he played soccer, but after he got the Negatrix any hopes of that former love returning was gone. Ben knew it was game day because his cousin was in her cheerleading outfit- and it was no were near time for cheer competitions. Her makeup was done and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up, and she sat in the front seat of her boyfriend's car chatting to said boyfriend about the routines she had to do.

Ben sat in the back, as he always did, waiting for the drive to be over. It came soon enough as the car pulled into the drop off area in front of the school, slowing to a stop. Neither Tennyson waited for it to fully stop before opening their doors. He got out, closing it with a slam and without a thank you. Gwen still leaning in and talking. The chatter of the hoard of tired teenagers flocking into the building almost drowned out the shouting of his name.

Almost.

He groans, looking over his shoulder, spotting the mass of pastels jogging towards him with something in their arms. “I’m so glad I got here on time! They were packed this morning- and I thought I'd be late- but I made it.” In your arms is his hoodie and an espresso smoothie. You hand him your gifts with a large smile. “I um, washed the jacket for you. Thanks again.” The bell rings and you give a quick wave before pushing into the school building yourself.

His jaw hangs slack, looking down at his freshly cleaned jacket- lint free, folded, and still warm- and the smoothie. When he moves there's a light cracking from inside the jacket, like the sound of a chip bag. He pulls back one of the folds and there is a bag of kale chips, stuck to it is a yellow sticky note written on with a pink gel pen. A phone number with “See you at lunch.”

“Who was that?” Ben looks over at his cousin, an impressed smirk on her lips.

“You’re getting mileage out of this, huh?” “Soooo much.”

#proship dni #alternate bens x reader #ben 10 x reader #ben tennyson x reader #nega ben x reader

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aomine-ryo · 3 years

Note

Hi can you do a jealousy headcanon for GOM? 💜

Of course! Hope you like it :)

Headcanons: GOM getting jealous

Kuroko

He doesn’t get jealous very often because he just has so much trust in you

If he ever does, he’s really subtle about it that you won’t even notice unless he tells you

He knew that he could talk to you about anything so he was never particularly uncomfortable with you being around other guys

There was a boy in your class who you had been getting quite close to

He quickly became a good friend of yours, and you’d often hang out with him when Kuroko was busy

He was objectively rather attractive, but you didn’t really see him that way because you only really had eyes for Kuroko

Kuroko wasn’t in your class so he’d sometimes see you walking around the school hallways, however more often than not, you would be with that boy

He seemed like a nice and earnest guy, which is probably why Kuroko began to feel a little threatened by him

Not knowing any better, you invited your friend to come watch one of Kuroko’s practice games with you since you could use the company

Kuroko wasn’t very pleased to see him to say the least

He’d usually glance over at you during games because seeing you watching him motivated him to do better

But now when he looked at you, he’d see you talking to that boy and he’d just feel annoyed

And it definitely showed in the way he played as well because his moves became uninspired and predictable

You went to grab some food with Kuroko’s team and your friend afterwords and Kuroko would not keep his hands off of you

He’d constantly be holding your hand

And he’d leave absolutely no space between you two

Of course, you noticed all of this, but you didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone

“Hey, so you’ve been spending a lot of time with that guy from your class, huh?” Kuroko said when the two of you were walking back home together

“Yeah, I suppose,” you shrugged, beginning to connect the dots

“Hm,” he hummed, his grip on your hand getting a bit tighter

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he mumbled

“You’re jealous aren’t you?” you grinned

His face just became red as he averted his gaze

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied almost instantly

“So that’s why you were being so touchy back there,” you giggled

“Well I was just making sure he knew that you were mine,” he said, finally deciding to give in

“For what it’s worth, you really don’t need to worry about him— I’m sure he knows.”

“I’m not a violent person but if he tries anything, let him know he can catch these hands,” he said, clenching his other fist and holding it up

“Tetsu, he’s twice your size, but sure.”

Kise

Okay so we know that Kise is really cold with people he generally doesn’t respect

Well, this coldness becomes so amplified when he sees someone he doesn’t know with you

The two of you were on a date at a cafe once and he went to the cashier to place your order while you remained seated at your table

That was when a classmate of yours spotted you and approached you

“Y/N? Didn’t expect to run into you here,” he said, grinning widely before engaging in conversation with you

Meanwhile, Kise was standing in the queue, glaring at you two

In Kise’s eyes, he was very obviously flirting with you— and he was, you just didn’t realise it

Every moment that he looked at you two angered him more and more

The damn boy even made himself comfortable by taking Kise’s seat

Was what he said so funny that you needed to be giggling like that?

Kise hastily placed his order and then stormed over to your table, not bothering to wait for your food

The boy was just about to reach out to touch you when Kise slammed his hand down on the table, startling both of you

He didn’t intend to do it with so much force but it just happened and he didn’t care

“Hey Y/N-cchi, who’s this?” Kise snarled, voice calm but menacing at the same time

“Oh hey Ryouta, this is Satou, a classmate of mine,” you introduced innocently

“Hi there,” Kise said, flashing him a fake smile and not even bothering to register his name in his head, “Y/N-cchi and I are kind of on a date right now, and you’re in my seat.”

Kise took your hand that was resting on the table and squeezed it tight, making the jealousy much more obvious to you

Your classmate visibly showed his annoyance through an eye roll as he stood up from Kise’s seat

“Alright,” he sighed. “See you around, Y/N.”

His and Kise’s eyes were shooting daggers at each other at this point

“Sure you will,” Kise mumbled sarcastically as he watched him walk off

“Babe they’ve been waving at you from the counter for the past two minutes now, trying to get your attention,” you pointed out, looking at the worker who was just about to give up and bring the order to you herself

“Ah crap,” Kise muttered before rushing over to meet the worker halfway and apologise

“I think someone got a bit carried away with their jealousy, don’t you think?” you said once he got back

“Tch, the guy goes to our school. He should know that you’re mine by now. Yet he still thought he had a shot, what an idiot,” Kise scoffed, just the thought of the boy talking to you getting him riled up again

“You’re intimidating when you’re jealous, it’s weird.”

“Weird? I can be intimidating! Why is that weird?” Kise pouted, switching back to his usual eccentric self

“Because you still sleep with stuffed animals, Ryouta,” you giggled

“And so do you, what’s your point?”

Midorima

So he’s not one to really initiate things like PDA

He’s the kind of guy that just holds your hand in public and that’s about it

However when he gets jealous, he becomes a whole other type of possessive

You’d be hanging out with him and a few of your friends from school

And one of the guys would constantly flirt with you

You didn’t really think too much of it because you thought he was just being friendly

But between the flirtatious teasing and unnecessary touching, Midorima was slowly losing his patience

He’d be really subtle at first

He’d hold your hand a bit tighter and hold you by your waist every now and then, all while eyeing the guy down in hopes that he’d get the message

Obviously, it wasn’t enough because he’d barely even notice Midorima and would continue chatting away with you as if your boyfriend wasn’t right there

“Hey Y/N, do you wanna go to that manga store over there together?” your friend said, seemingly inviting only you even though there were five other people in your group

“Actually, Y/N and I were just planning on leaving, sorry,” Midorima intervened, the ‘sorry’ oozing with so much sarcasm that it was clear that he really didn’t like the guy

“Oh already? You don’t have to leave just because Midorima is, you know,” your friend said

Hahaha it took everything in Midorima to not send him flying like his three pointers

“Excuse me? I think you’re crossing the line there a bit, don’t you think—“

“It’s getting pretty late, we should get going,” you said quickly before things could escalate

After shooting one last glare at your friend, Midorima walked away with you

“The nerve of that guy— unbelievable,” Midorima sighed

“I thought you were going to punch him or something, that’s why I stopped you so quickly,” you giggled

“Honestly, I might have,” Midorima chuckled. “How are you even friends with someone like him?”

“I guess he’s just friendly,” you shrugged. “Looks like someone was a bit jealous though.”

“Please, why would I be jealous of an idiot like him,” Midorima scoffed

He’d never admit to an emotion like jealousy— ever

Aomine

Oh god this boy does not handle jealousy well

He would 100% break someone’s nose if he feels like they’re getting too close

The two of you were at a party once and Aomine decided to take a break from dancing for a moment to grab a drink

So he was leaning against the wall sipping on his drink while watching you on the dance floor

Of course, he wasn’t very pleased to find you dancing with some other guy

Aomine recognised him as someone who went to your school, so he very well could just be a friend of yours

However that didn’t stop him from feeling a growing amount of jealousy as each moment passed

Did you really need to be dancing that close to him?

Aomine should be the only one you dance like that with

He was already a bit tipsy so he may not have been thinking straight

But he completely lost it when he saw your bodies swaying so carelessly together

Next thing he knew, he was storming over to the dance floor

You didn’t even notice him until you were suddenly ripped away from the boy you were previously dancing with

And once again you were dancing with Aomine

He was holding your waist tight and his face was as close as ever

“What do you think you’re doing dancing like that with someone else?” Aomine growled

“Why? Is someone jealous?” you joked as you continued to move along with him to the music

“Don’t tease around like that. You’re all mine, don’t you realise?” he grinned, shoving his lips onto yours before you could say another word

The kiss was desperate and heavy, and as a result, sloppy— not that you minded too much

After seeing that act, the guy from earlier backed off, though you didn’t even notice or care for that matter

I mean, why would you care about any other guy when Aomine Daiki was in front of you?

Murasakibara

He gets jealous very easily

He’s like a child when it comes to most things— he doesn’t share

You’ve had your fair share of encounters with other guys that ended with Murasakibara scaring them off

The two of you were seated on the couch together on your phones

There was absolutely no reason for Murasakibara to have come over to your house just to be on his phone, but he just enjoyed your presence

You were scrolling through TikTok because you’d run out of things to do

You landed on a video of these two shirtless boys dancing to a song that you liked so you just watched for the hell of it

You started scrolling through the comments while the video kept replaying, garnering Murasakibara’s attention

The second he saw what you were watching his possessiveness just kicked in

“You really like watching those boys, huh?” he said, glaring at the boys as if they could see through the screen

“Not really, I just like the song,” you shrugged before turning to him with a smirk, “why? Are you jealous?”

“Well if it means I can get more of your attention then sure, I guess I’m jealous,” he answered simply. “Do I have to take my shirt off and do a dance too?”

“I wasn’t going to say that, but now that you mention it, I’d love to see it,” you giggled

Next thing you knew, he wrapped his arms around you, sending you toppling back onto the couch

“Too bad I can’t dance, I guess you’ll have to make do with some kisses for now,” he said softly, making your heart flutter

“Ah dammit, I wanted to see you dance,” you sighed, pretending to be disappointed

“Shut up,” he groaned, before pressing his lips against yours

This was what he was usually like when he got jealous though

He wouldn’t necessarily get angry or anything like that unless a guy was relentlessly hitting on you

But he’d just become really lovey and clingy just as a way of reminding you that it was him who’d love you the most

Akashi

We all know he’s a classy gentleman

So you can’t expect any dramatic outbursts from him when he gets jealous

He’s always able to keep a calm and composed exterior (not that that’s ever stopped anyone from feeling threatened by him)

Anyone who knew Akashi knew never to mess with him

And they especially knew how much he valued you so one step too far would probably lead to their demise

However, there was one boy at a dinner party you both attended who somehow didn’t get the memo

You ended up being seated in the middle of him and Akashi, which gave him the opportunity to chat with you as much as he liked

Of course, Akashi wasn’t the most pleased to hear what he had to say to you

It was very obviously some awful flirting

You just thought he was being friendly so you entertained his conversation

“Y/N, maybe you should stop chatting and eat— your food is getting cold,” Akashi said in attempt to get him to stop— it was getting frustrating at this point

For the rest of the night, Akashi remained clung onto you with his arm around your waist, monitoring every movement of that boy

It was particularly strange because Akashi was the type to mingle at events like these so you knew something was wrong

Akashi’s cold gaze seemed to be enough to make the guy keep his distance though

Akashi is just too powerful lmao

Once the two of you got back home, Akashi pounced to kiss you almost immediately

“Woah what was that for?” you asked when you pulled away from the kiss that seemed so urgent

“You looked gorgeous tonight, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Akashi said sweetly

“Aww, thank you, Sei.”

“A lot of people seemed to think so too by the looks of it. Especially that guy that sat next to you at the table,” Akashi pointed out

“Oh. Did you get jealous or something?” you questioned

“Well, yes. I want to be the only one looking at you like that. But I guess it can’t be helped sometimes,” he said, body still as close to yours as ever

“You’re the only one I want so you don’t have to worry for even a moment,” you said reassuringly

“Then that’s all that matters,” Akashi said with a smile before pulling you in for a soft kiss filled with nothing but adoration

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #kuroko no basket x reader #generation of miracles #knb #kuroko tetsuya #akashi seijuro #aomine daiki #kise ryota x reader #aomine daiki x reader #kise ryouta #murasakibara atsushi #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro x reader #murasakibara atsushi x reader #kuroko tetsuya x reader #akashi seijuro x reader

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alberivh · 3 years

Note

VEILLE CONGRATULATIONS FOR YOUR MILESTONE YOU DESERVE IT MY LOVE >_< !!!

can i request for first and last letter with childe? T^T childe has so much potential for angst,, thank you for this!! <3

The first and Last

summaries : where childe open his ‘safebox’ after a long time ever since your last appearence in his dream. and because of his undelightful sight of numbness and vulnerable feeling, he decided to read the first and the last letter from you, his dead fiancé.

character : childe x GN! Reader

contains : sickness (implementations of bronchitis), major character death, heavy angst, slight comfort/hurt, over all pure angst, mentions of losing weight.

A/N : hELLO AERI! Thank you very much for requesting this, i hope this suits your liking! (( also please do check aeri’s page @dilucbar for more interesting genshin fic and writing hehe ))

as childe breaks onto the ground of his empty mansion, his numbness began to drown him onto an exhaustion. An empty exhaustion to be exact. A simple pushed-over of his feelings are now an inexistent memory of his, he used to be so bright, but now, What happened to those charming smiles of his? Could it be burned by your ashes? Or did he just simply forgot how to provide his mistakes to love you? He doesn’t know either, All he could felt are just a simple empty tears, scrolling down through his cheekbones. making it seems like he still hide an emotions underneath the crack of his facades.

he drags his body into his bedroom. It’s heavy feelings occurs his way onto his side of the bed, drowning it scents onto his nose. It was pretty messy, full of untidied shirt, fragrance of a dandelion parfume, and most of all, which has always been in a perfect shape and form, covered by a red ribbon, a small box has been in ‘that’ bedside for about 237th days now. The box was an unpleasant sight for him, it was a remembrance for him to realize you were gone and you couldn’t be back. After all death have always craved those who loved him forever and after.

so tonight he decided to open this box. To bring back his vulnerable emotions back. to bring back those glazing eyes of his when he saw you buried underneath the rock of your tombstone. Numb and sorrow are all he could felt, excitement while opening this treasure of his lover pieces are nothing more than a natural hunch of his nature.

The box are full of your handwritten letters you’ve left for him. You’ve always collected the copied of your letter into this old wooden-tile box incase if anything happens to you, he could recollect his memory to remembered you again. ‘In the old days, if you lost your track, find me again through this box darling, sincerely, (name).’ Written in the top of the box instruction. He opens through the first letter of the stockpiles , it was one of your first letter for him. The most memorable one in fact. Written in the most familiar and comforting handwriting he has missed for ages.

to my dearest, ajax.

I haven’t seen you in ages, where have you been? Have you had a good time with the new recruits? Are you feeling well? Do you have any new interest while exploring the inner city of fontaine? AHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTION FOR YOU, YOU SHOULD JUST BE BACK SO I COULD INTEROGATE YOU MOREE,, I was about to surprised you back then with a classic snzehnayan dish you’ve always craved for, but you know.. you just disappeared to a dust and it make me thinks you are a hallucination of mine, but now i’ve heard you have an amazing time in fontaine, i couldn’t help but smile and feel relieved. i’m glad you had a great time darling, Really glad in fact!

So please do bring me some souvenir as a return of your..compensation for keeping me waiting hehe, i’ll see you soon then!

from, your lover, (name)

It was your last letter you’ve sent to your lover, before childe came screaming on your name at the emergency room, searching for your figure to be embrace in his arm. To comfort you he said, despite the worries and sweats he witness while in his way to check your structure, you’re his fiance after all, He couldn’t lose you for everything, childe is too selfish to expect the best of you.

He remembers when he was feeding you, taking care of you like another baby-sibling of his and still loves you nonetheless. Maybe only childe could do it, he prepared everything for you, leading you with the wheelchair or even hand carry you in one arm if your condition lead you to be more clingy to him. He does it all for you, for you to be happy and stay a little bit more longer than he expected to be. Just for you to be more selfish, so death could wait longer for your arrival.

Bronchitis is the name of the disease, a deadly one in fact. If it were not taken care of, maybe you were already dead by now. Maybe it would be pointless for childe to scream your name in the emergency room, searching for you, anyone but you.

as you were coughing in his arms ; making many form of mucus in your lungs, while he carries you in his shoulder, patting your back so you could feel much more in ease. You feel so light now and you’ve lost so many weight, it worries him to the edge. Though your tenderness have always lingers onto his body, it still stressed him, you’re not supposed to be gone this fast, you’re supposed to be alive and well. Let him die, he is a murderer of the innocence yet he still live long and well. How ironic it is for the sinner to always stand as the first and the last?

“ajax..i’ve prepared so many things for you, these past days..though i would say i’m still scared of letting you go..”

“Hmm..and why is it my love?” , curious and in interest of knowing much more of your recent condition, he asked you straightforwardly. Voice gone anxious and body became colder than before, you find it precious how he always prioritize you over everything.

“i just don’t want to die..i don’t want to..this breathing ventilator sucks..i really want to be with you ajax, i really want to..” you were sobbing in his jacket, hiding your face in his embrace, not wanting him to see the awful side of you for being too egoistic for your own stability.

“just, ajax..if i left you..please take that box i’ve always brought..read the last letter if you’re ready..i loved you…so much..”

you’re lost in the snow, starting your new ways in heaven. Leaving him behind ; alone. even after encouraging you to stay longer than he will, though if he think it again, it was all a bullshit for you to stay. now, he is ready to witness the pieces of you he always wanted to knew, a new pieces of you to be loved again by him. Just please let it be a decent farewell, he didn’t ask for more, but just a decent love and farewell are all he could ask for.

opening in terror of expectation. he found himself to be quite charmed by the appearence of this letter. Sniffs and sobs crawling down to his cheeksbone, making it seems like he was finally reaching his emotions after the emptiness he felt these past seconds.

to, my dearest, ajax.

Ajax, You probably read this when i’m already gone. It might be hard to move on and live another life, still I hope your managing well in your current life, i’ll always look upon you my love. Just please do not harm yourself, i’ve always been worried about you since i lay in this painfully awful bed. So please, would you keep it mind..? i loved you so much that i have no hesitation to continue to love you more in the afterlife. I’m just too selfish for you, for you to withess nor to love.

I don’t think i’ll be able to send you all of my letters for you in this box i’ve always treasured. Though i have certain thoughts to be filled when i wrote this letter. I know i haven’t been a good lover for you, you’ve always taken care of me and i could only nod in gratitude. I really wish the god’s gave me two chance to live with you again, just for myself to stay even if it pains me. I don’t want to die, i don’t want to. I hope i could live another day everytime i sleep in your arms, i don’t want to lose another person because my time has losen up. I regretted this, everything.

And if in another life i could called you by your name again. Please do recognize me as your old lover. Thoug if it meant for me to forget about you, at least those deja vu from our past could bring you back to me. I do not beg for more sympathy from you, you’re too precious for me. You shouldn’t have suffer this much because of me. I loved you ajax. even if it were only the last chance for you to met me again in your dream or hallucination. I wish you a farewell, a pleasing farewell. I couldn’t bare someone to hurt because of their lost, just because i’m not strong enough to stay with you and outlived you.

Ah and remember the souvenir you gave to me from fontaine? i’ve always used it ever since you gave it to me. I don’t know if you realized it or not, but this gift from you have always been one of my comfort, it was the only pieces of you that i could remember when you were not here with me. I have no regrets that i still could hold into it until my death. So take it, it could be the only remembrance of me till the end of the 100 years of your life.

So ajax, know your worth. You are far from perfect yet the sight of you have always been one of the reason i’m alive. Don’t be too selfish to give someone a chance to survive, live well and die well. You’ve always have been my last memory of the lover i clearly love wholeheartedly. Love yourself for me, for you, and for the others who listen to your pleas. Found me again in the afterlife won’t you? I love you.

from, your old lover, (name).

he was crying in tears of hopeless numbness and sorrow. How many times has he been cussing a ‘fuck’ out of his mouth? He doesn’t even know, He lost count. He was crying in the ground, leaving puffy cheeks and eyes behind. your words are too much for him to bare. You are too kind for him, too much for him. The grief of losing you are already too much for him to bare. He doesn’t want to remember you are dead, he just wants to remember how much you loved him. It comforted him, always have been. But now you’re gone, he could only hold into the tiny box of his lovers oath. It’s a curse to be loved by you.

#ajax #tartaglia #childe #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin impact childe #childe angst #tartaglia angst #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact fanfic #childe fanfic #childe headcannons #childe x reader angst #tartaglia x reader angst

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breadqueen95 · 3 years

Text

Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier.

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt.

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

“I’m pretty sure every single person would be able to tell I spend my days in tactical gear. God, I’m not sure I even know how to walk in heels this high!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Natasha threw her phone down and looked at you in the mirror. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was giving you her usual ‘don’t give me that shit’ look. It nearly had you shaking in your very strappy black heels.

“Are you kidding me, y/n? I’ve seen you strut in enough fancy parties during undercover missions to know that you’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Wanda scoffed as she took a sip of red wine from her glass, “all she’s nervous about is what Bucky will think.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide how much that sentence affected you.

“C’mon, Wanda. You know Bucky and I are just friends.”

“Do friends undress each other with their eyes whenever they’re in the same room?”

Damn it. Damn Wanda and her stupid perceptiveness.

“You’re reading too much into it, Wanda.” She just laughed at you, acting like she knew so much better.

What you knew and wasn’t ready to admit to your two best friends, was that she was right on the money.

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, your favorite person in the entire world, was now your boyfriend. He had been for a few weeks now. The two of you were insanely private people. Hell, it had been years before the two of you had finally learned everything about each other. Once you had gotten past the walls the other had so carefully crafted, well…

At that point you were in love.

But the others didn’t need to know that, not yet at least. The Avengers were a family, your family. They were really the only true family you’d ever had. But Bucky…Bucky was finally yours. And you were his. You didn’t think it was crazy to just want to enjoy that, just the two of you, without everyone else sharing their jokes and opinions just yet. They did it out of love, you both knew that, but you just wanted him all to yourself.

As you looked back at your reflection in the mirror, you took a minute to really consider what Bucky’s reaction might be. He had the best poker face in the room no matter who he was with, but you knew him well enough to know how he was feeling just based on his eyes. He’d always said how much he loved red on you, and he adored every and any excuse to touch your skin. Those steel blue eyes of his would absolutely burn once he saw you in this dress.

And fuck, that was something you really wanted to see.

“Well, if you aren’t going to wear that dress, you better pick something else,” Nat said, jerking you from your fantasies, “we need to be there in twenty minutes, and we all need to touch up our makeup.”

“Actually…I think I’ll wear it,” you said confidently, trying to hide your grin as you ran your hands down the silky fabric.

What you didn’t see was Natasha and Wanda sharing a secret smirk behind you, like they’d known what you’d do the whole time.

***

Six weeks ago, everything had changed for you and Bucky.

You’d known how you felt for a long time. Bucky Barnes, despite his past, was the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. He was sincere, kind, generous, witty…everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. He had been your best friend for even longer.

It had been a long time before you could even admit your feelings to yourself, let alone to him. After everything the two of you had been through, who had the time and mental capacity for romance? It just didn’t seem important. You just chalked up your feelings to being such close friends. All you wanted was to be near him, even if you just sat in silence doing different things. Just being in the same room as Bucky brought you a sort of peace you’d never had before. Whenever he touched you, even if it was just a brief hug or brushing your back to get past you, your skin erupted into goosebumps. But that was just because physical touch was still foreign to you, right?

And his smile. God, his wonderful smile…

Bucky didn’t smile much. He hid behind a mask of stoicism, a remnant from the trauma of his horrible history as the Winter Soldier. Showing any sort of emotion, especially happiness, was hard for him. But when he finally let himself smile? It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever see.

It took several sleepless nights wrestling with those confusing feelings to figure it out. You didn’t just see Bucky as your best friend. You had it bad. Not just “oh my god he’s so handsome” bad, like the “I would take a bullet for you I’m so in love” bad. That revelation? It left you euphoric. It also left you scared.

Because you were so sure Bucky didn’t feel the same. And that thought was like a knife to the heart every time it flashed through your mind.

So you kept it to yourself. You tried to keep things as normal as possible, but your heart kept fluttering whenever he walked into a room. Being so close to Bucky meant you confided in each other about pretty much everything, and he knew you well enough to know you were hiding something.

It all exploded on a Tuesday night in the compound.

Tuesdays were your movie nights. Bucky had a lot of pop culture to catch up on, so on this night every week he would come by your room to watch a movie. It was a weekly tradition that kind of started by accident. You were shocked he still hadn’t made time to watch Lord of the Rings, so you forced him onto your couch with popcorn and The Fellowship of the Ring. He loved it so much, and immediately asked if you guys could watch The Two Towers the next week. How could you say no to him?

Tonight, you were watching 13 Going on 30. It was your all-time favorite romcom, and you figured you could both use a break from all the action and fantasy movies you’d been cycling through. Something with a happy ending was worth indulging in.

“Does that Matt guy look like Banner to you? Or is it just me?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Heh, maybe a little,” you said, “Give or take a few years.” He laughed at that, and you forced yourself to laugh quietly. You wanted to blurt out your feelings every time you looked at Bucky, so you’d gotten quieter and quieter every time you spent time with him. It was an awful reaction, and you knew he noticed. But it was better than losing his friendship, right?

After that awful and painfully obvious forced laugh, Bucky let out a huge sigh and paused the movie. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then turned to face you. Exasperation and hurt glimmered in his eyes.

“Y/n, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that,” he said sharply, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact there’s something you’re not telling me. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, god no!” You exclaimed.

“Well it must be something I did, because you’ve never been this quiet around me and it keeps getting worse. I hate it, and I want to know what I did so I can fix it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious, it’s nothing you did—”

“Then why? Why are you shutting me out?” He cut you off angrily, arms thrown wide. “You’re my best friend, I just don’t get why—”

“I don’t want you like a best friend, Bucky!” Your eyes went wide as the words flew from your lips. In the most comical way, you clapped your hand over your mouth as if you could stop the words that had already been said. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Oh fuck. He didn’t get it. Curse him and his old man ways.

“What does that even mean, Y/n? Are you saying you don’t want me around anymore?”

“Bucky, of course not. God, I would never want that. Never in a million years.”

“Then you better explain, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m over 100 years old. I need a little help here.”

“It means, uh…um,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together. “Is there any chance we can just forget I said that?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

“It means…it means that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

His entire face seemed to crinkle as he processed that. If you weren’t freaking out, you’d be obsessing over how damn cute it made him look. Then his eyes got wide as he began to make the connection. Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass as his eyes lifted again to meet yours.

“I…I think I know what you’re saying,” he nearly whispered, “I just need you to get real specific real fast, because I’m not about to say anything until I know exactly what you mean.”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” You burst out. Even through your mortification, there was a sudden sense of relief. A secret as big as that had definitely been weighing you down. Now that it was out there, that was one less thing you had to worry about.

His eyes grew even wider. How that was possible, you didn’t even know. That beautiful mouth of his began to turn up into a small smile as he gazed softly at you.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked, his smile getting wider with each passing second.

“What, you need it carved into stone or something?” You couldn’t help but sass him. Did you fucking stutter?

“No, it’s just…I never thought you’d feel that way about me.”

“Well, clearly I do. So you – wait, you mean you’ve thought about this before?”

“Of course I have,” he said as he shrugged, “I’ve been in love with you for two years now, how could I not think about it?”

You were instantly filled with warmth and pure bliss. In all your obsessing over your own feelings, you’d never allowed yourself to consider that he might feel the same about you. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out, holding a hand up, “you’re telling me you’ve been into me for two years and didn’t say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He shot back, inching closer to you.

“Because you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid feelings I have.”

“But…I have those same ‘stupid feelings’ for you. So can we just cut the whole act and get on with it?” Bucky brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin so gently.

“Uh…um…get on with what?”

“Well I’d kinda like to kiss you, if you’re cool with it.”

“Bucky Barnes did you just use current slang to ask if you could kiss me?” You didn’t move an inch as his face moved right in front of yours, breath intermingling as you gazed into each other’s eyes. God, was this really happening?

“Yeah, guess your lessons worked,” he murmured.

“Well you better kiss me, then.”

As soon as your lips met, it was like coming home.

***

That memory, your favorite memory, replayed in your head as the three of you stepped into the elevator. Nat and Wanda were happily chatting about who would be there, what kind of antics Tony would cook up tonight, if there would be music we could actually dance to. You know, normal party things.

All you could think about was how long you had to stay until you could sneak off with your boyfriend.

You were so happy Wanda and Natasha had convinced you to wear this dress. When you’d first put it on, the difference from your normal look was so jarring that it took you a few minutes to get used to it. But now that you had, now that you felt the silky fabric shifting against your skin as you moved, now that you saw how dangerously long your legs looked in these heels…

Damn, you felt sexy.

And that sexy feeling? It made you want Bucky’s hands all over you.

But this was a party. A party thrown by Tony Stark, one of the most perceptive and observant people you’d ever met. If you left too soon, if he thought you weren’t “having enough fun”, he’d be more than a little upset. So you had to stay, drink, mingle, maybe dance a little…and then, maybe later, you could go do what you actually wanted.

The elevator pinged, indicating you had reached the topmost floor of the compound. This floor was home to a huge communal space, often used for just hanging out with the team. But on nights like tonight, Tony went all out and turned the space into something that resembled…a club?

The three of you stepped out into the massive room, upbeat music already blasting from the speakers. Typical Tony – he never really outgrew his love for dancing and parties. The bass thrummed through your body, making you want to move to the music. The lights were dim, but you could still tell who was around. It looked like you were some of the last members of the team to arrive. There was a huge bar off to the side, and Natasha headed that way right away. You turned to ask Wanda if she wanted to follow Nat, but she was already making a beeline for Vision. Smiling, you just turned right back around to follow Natasha. A drink sounded pretty good right now.

As you made your way to the bar, you felt more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you walked. You sneakily looked around as you went, noticing men and women watching you with admiration, and dare you say it, longing. As someone whose job was to blend in with the background all the time, this was a different and slightly addictive feeling. You leaned on the bar next to Nat right as the bartender slid her drink over to her.

“Straight whiskey tonight? Damn, going hard.” You quipped.

“Hey now, you know I can handle my liquor. It’s you we need to watch out for, you lightweight.”

Laughing, you scanned the party guests, looking for the one person you wanted to see. Tony had had arm around Pepper’s waist, both laughing at something Rhodey had said. Bruce lingered around them, drink in hand and looking a little nervous, but still happy to be included. Wanda and Vision were sitting quietly on one of the couches, both looking absolutely smitten with each other. Scott Lang, one of the newest additions, was busting some moves, while Peter Parker laughed as he watched. Thor, who was visiting from Asgard, laughed boisterously as he watched various guests try to lift his hammer. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face. You loved these people so much.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky was with Sam and Steve, as usual. But even as Sam and Steve were talking animatedly next to him, those gorgeous blue eyes of his were glued to you. There was a kind of intensity in them you hadn’t seen before. Your breath whooshed from you body as he grinned at you. Trying to maintain the suggestive image your dress gave you, you managed to send a flirtatious smile his way, then turned back around to face the bar. Leaning against the counter, you knew he’d get an eyeful of your bare back. God, this was fun.

The bartender finally made his way over to you, and you ordered two tequila shots.

Nat turned to you, one eyebrow arched in surprise as she asked, “And you say I’m going hard? You can’t just down two shots right away, babe.”

“I’m not doing two shots; you think I’m stupid?” The bartender slid the shots over to you along with two lime wedges. “One is clearly for you.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Natasha put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her side as she said, “Why the fuck not, let’s do it.” The two of you went through the process: salt, shot, lime. You couldn’t help but wince as you downed the harsh liquor. Of all the shots in the world, tequila probably tasted the worst. The only reason you kept going for it was the warmth it traced down your body, and you felt your muscles begin to loosen up.

“Two more,” you called over to the bartender.

“Uh, no,” Natasha shot at you, grabbing her whiskey, and pushing off the bar, “I’m good with my top shelf shit, you keep going after that gasoline if you want but I’m out.”

“C’mon, Nat,” you called out, “what am I gonna do with two shots?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else, babe.” She said with a wave over her shoulder.

Sighing, you turned back to the ridiculously pretty bar (seriously, how much had Tony paid for this thing?). Who else would help you look cool and sexy at a bar for your secret boyfriend?

Okay, that was the cringiest thought you’d ever had. Gross.

As the bartender slid the tequila in front of you, you steeled yourself for the nastiness that was about to happen.

“Fuck, I didn’t think this through,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, you tend to do that,” a deep voice answered on your right. Instead of being the slightest bit surprised, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Something I can do for you, Barnes?” You looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got an extra shot there. Thought I could bail you out.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky shifted so that your arms were just barely touching. His hand was right next to yours, and you reached out with your pinky to lightly brush his.

“Doll, you have the gall to show up in that dress and ask what I want as if you don’t already know?”

“Sorry Buck, I’m a little slow, must be the tequila. You should probably be a little clearer.”

Putting on quite the show of reaching for one of the shots, his mouth somehow ended up right next to your ear.

“I want you.”

It was lucky everyone was so distracted and couldn’t see how you shuddered at his words. Trying to maintain brain function, you managed to take the shot with him. You were now fully facing each other. He was wearing the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen, one that would put Tony Stark to shame. You couldn’t help but respond with that same energy despite the jitteriness his three little words had reduced you to.

“Well why don’t you—”

“Hello, my friends!” A booming voice sounded between you as Thor threw a huge arm over each of you. Bucky, with his stupid super soldier strength, didn’t really have a reaction to it. You, on the other hand, stumbled a little under the weight and force of it. “It’s so good to be back with you tiny humans.”

Was…was he slurring his words?

“Thor…are you drunk right now?”

He simply laughed in response. Well, that answered that.

“Of course I am, tiny person! It can’t be a party without good Asgardian wine.”

“Wait…you have literal god wine?” Bucky, who had a look of vague irritation on his face up to this point, now looked interested. Maybe even a little excited?

“Of course, metal appendage.”

“Dude, you can’t just call Bucky ‘metal appendage’—”

“He can if he lets me have some,” Bucky interrupted.

“We have a bargain!” Thor slapped Bucky on the back before scurrying back over to where he had come from, probably to get the wine he had promised.

“Bucky, you can’t even get drunk,” you hissed, “what exactly is the point of this?”

“Since everything happened, I haven’t found any alcohol strong enough to get me drunk. I figure god wine is worth a shot.”

“Bucky—”

“When I kiss you against a wall later, I wanna be a little tipsy,” he whispered in your ear, “that cool with you?”

Unable to keep yourself from smiling again, you nodded as Thor sauntered back over. Ever since that moment a few weeks ago, right before he kissed you for the first time, asking “is that cool with you?” had become your thing.

And the idea of Bucky kissing you against a wall? Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

As it turns out, Asgardian wine is just as potent as Thor had promised.

For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was certifiably drunk. It made him feel like the Bucky from all those years ago, and it was the most incredible thing. Here he was, over 100 years old, partying, and all his favorite people were here.

Including his ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Even as they both flitted around the party, Bucky and y/n still found each other’s eyes, even from across the room. They would send winks, smiles, even funny faces. All he wanted to do was be right next to her, talk and dance with her all night…

But they had agreed. They wanted to keep their relationship a secret for now, keep the attention off of them for a bit while they got to know each other in this new way.

But god damn, that dress.

Y/n in red was…indescribable. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But in red? In this dress?

She was breathtaking.

“Buck, you breathing?”

A hand waved in front of his face, snapping Bucky’s attention back to the people around him from Y/n’s back. He had been imagining putting his hands all over that back later and had gotten more than a little mesmerized. He managed to get his eyes to refocus, finding a drunk Sam smirking right next to him and an even drunker Steve dancing next to him. But what Steve was doing couldn’t really be called ‘dancing’ per say…more like an aggressive wiggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?” Of all the things he could’ve said to get Sam’s attention off of him, that wasn’t it.

“Uh, probably because the girl you’re in love with decided to show up and show off tonight? Pretty sure you’re drooling, man.”

Despite himself, Bucky slapped a hand across his mouth, only reducing Sam to wheezing laughter. Knowing he had been caught, he rolled his eyes and grimaced a little. Of all the people to catch him, he wished it hadn’t been Sam.

“I wasn’t…staring… at y/n, I just never see her dressed up is all.”

“I never said anything about the girl being y/n.”

“…fuck.”

“LANGUAGE,” Steve yelled out, pointing a finger at his two friends before returning to his shimmying.

Turning back to him, Sam added, “Just go be with her, Buck. You’re not fooling anyone, and neither is she.”

“We’re that obvious?”

“A few weeks ago you’d at least try to hide it. Now I’m surprised you’re not jumping each other’s bones right here right now.”

“Point taken,” Bucky said, lightly slapping Sam’s shoulder before power walking over to his girl.

***

“Nat, if you don’t stop asking about Bucky and I’s relationship, I’m going to kick you,” you called over the music before taking another swig from your glass. It was no Asgardian wine, but the human stuff wasn’t half bad in your opinion. It wasn’t like you could drink the god shit, anyway. If you had even one sip, you’d be swinging from the ceiling like Miley fucking Cyrus. You were pretty drunk as it was.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug as she took a sip of her whiskey, still as calm and collected as ever. “You’re almost as drunk as he is, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

“Oh? Is that your spy master plan?”

Natasha was still looking as unbothered as ever, but as she looked across the room over your shoulder, her face split into a savage grin.

“It was, but it looks like I might not need it.”

“What do you me—”

Your words were cut off as a large, warm hand enclosed around yours. Whirling around, you were suddenly face to face with the man himself. Bucky was clearly having a good time. His mouth was relaxed into the cutest smile you’d ever seen him wear, and he moved without his normal stiffness and intensity. He threaded your fingers together, smiling down at you with so much love it was a wonder Nat hadn’t said anything yet.

Looking back in front of you, ready to explain yourself, you only found empty air. Guess she’d seen all she needed to, but honestly, you really didn’t care. All you’d wanted the whole night was to be exactly where you were right now; hand in hand with the man you loved.

“We’re just kidding ourselves, doll,” Bucky called next to your ear, “Sam said we’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Nat said the same,” you answered with a sheepish smile, “kind of hard to keep my face under control when you’ve got that leather jacket on.”

“You’re blaming me?” He asked with mock indignation. “You’re the one who looks,” he gestured wildly to your whole body, “like that!”

Trying ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks, you shot back, “Like what?”

“Like the most…” he screwed his face up in the most adorable way as he searched for words, “like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” As the last few words tumbled out of his mouth, he gazed at you with such a softness you almost melted right into the floor.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked, finally giving up the game. It was pointless, really. Now, all you wanted to do was for your boyfriend to keep his promise and kiss you against a wall.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he answered, “Absolutely.” Without looking at a single soul, the two of you began walking as quickly as you could for the exit. You and Bucky were both leaning on each other a bit, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway, you blinked as your eyes adjusted after the dark room you’d spent the last few hours in. Bucky led you until you were right in front of the elevator, and he lazily pressed the button to go up. There was tension in the air between you, like a thread that was being pulled. Biting your lip, you stared at the doors in front of you. You knew if you so much as looked at the man next to you, you’d jump him right then and there.

The shining doors slid open, and the pair of you walked in, his strong arm still around your waist. His grip wasn’t loose in any sense of the word. Bucky kept you right next to him, even as your legs wanted to drift all over the place. You pressed the button for the residential floor.

As soon as those doors slid shut, that thread of tension snapped.

Bucky whirled you to face him, then walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall of the elevator.

“I promised I’d kiss you against the wall, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even wait for a response. His mouth was on yours in an instant, lips moving together like a dance. The kiss was slow and unhurried. You tried to bring him closer, linking your hands behind his neck and pressing yourself to him. Instead of responding in kind, he unwound your arms from around him and pinned them above your head.

Oh damn.

Okay.

No complaints here.

“You’ve been teasin’ me all night just by wearing that dress, sweetheart,” he murmured in between the kisses he trailed down your jaw, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Would it change your mind knowing I only wore this dress so you could take it off?”

The heat that bloomed in those blue eyes of his was unmistakable. As the doors opened on your floor, he swept you up into his arms and began to walk purposefully to his apartment. All the while, he kept that signature cocky smirk of his you’d come to adore.

“Bucky?” You asked once he’d walked into his unit.

“That sentence was the single most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” he murmured as he set you down. Even still, he kept you pressed against him. “But nah, I’m a patient guy. I think I’ll take my time.” He followed this by resuming his slow and sensual kisses, and you couldn’t help but melt into them.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that, doll. I love you too.”

***

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #dress #jenna writes #i love lanie #laniestaylorswiftwc

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #fjord x reader #caduceus x reader #mollymauk x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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yslkook · 3 years

Text

BRIGHT (2)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you and jungkook share a moment in a bookstore. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, excessive use of pet names…bc its me

“Oh, lighten up Jeon,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “You look like someone told you that your cat died.”

“The only kitty he wants won’t give him the time of day,” Mina grins, earning herself a glare from Jungkook.

“More like I can't get her time of day because her stupid best friend has a stick up her ass,” Jungkook mutters.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” Mei observes, “Our baby tattoo artist pining over a girl…”

“If looks could kill, you’d be dead by now, Mei,” Yoongi says pointedly, “Now stop wasting time meddling in Jungkook’s love life, Jin will have all of our heads-”

“Love life? I don’t have a love life,” Jungkook protests, eyes adorably round.

“And that’s why you’re so broody today, honey,” Mina teases, “More so than usual at least.”

“I am not broody,” Jungkook grumbles, turning his back on his laughing coworkers and friends. He can’t help but smile at their teasing.

“Oh, lighten up, Kookie,” Mei says lightly, clapping his shoulder, “If it makes you feel any better, that girl couldn’t stop staring at you at Hobi’s birthday. And she definitely wants a piece of this.”

Jungkook ignores the raucous laughter of his friends (which only increases when Jin comes out from the backroom to add on to his suffering) and the reddening of his cheeks as he gets ready for his full day of tattoo consultations and appointments.

Jungkook’s day ends about an hour earlier than he had anticipated- his last client for the day had to reschedule due to a last minute conflict. That’s fine by him. It gives him time to stop by the bookstore a few blocks away from the tattoo parlor before it closes.

Jungkook tries his best to read at least one new book a month. He’s known the older shop owner, Jia and her young son, Jae-sung, for years now, as he had basically grown up with Jia from childhood.

He loves the quiet of the store and the immediate scent of vanilla and cedar that surrounds him as soon as he walks in. The bookstore itself has a vintage sort of feel, with dimmed lights, old shelves of mahogany and candles placed throughout the store.

Jungkook always brings croissants from the bakery nearby for Jia and little Jae-sung. Usually when he comes by, the bookstore is empty (or close to it).

Jae-sung screeches when he sees Jungkook walk in the door and immediately runs up to him, hugging his legs. Jungkook crouches, ruffling his hair fondly and Jae-sung is nearly bouncing off of the heels of his feet.

“Mommy say she have new book for you, Kookie!” Jae-sung beams, eyeing the box of croissants in Jungkook’s free hand.

“Does she?” Jungkook muses, “Your mommy always knows what kind of books I like.”

“Me too! Me too!”

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jia’s voice filters through the store as she approaches, “It’s been a while.”

“It took me a while to finish the last book. But so worth it,” He says apologetically, “I also brought croissants. Enjoy.”

“You spoil us,” Jia rolls her eyes, “The new arrivals are in the back, third aisle from the left. You know the drill.”

Jia has known Jungkook since he was a baby in diapers- she’s been his aunt’s close friend for years and years now. Jungkook likes to joke that he likes Jia more than his own aunt, and Jia always reprimands him (without really meaning it).

He thought the bookstore was empty, save for Jia and Jae-sung. But he’s clearly mistaken, when he sees a figure in an olive green sweater and black jeans perusing through the new arrivals with their bottom lip tucked between their teeth in concentration.

He recognizes them immediately and when the person raises their head in curiosity, he sees your wide eyes and a shy smile starting to pull across your lips.

You’re here, in his favorite bookstore where he feels like he’s at home. If he was looking for a sign, then this was it.

“Hi,” You say softly, waving your fingers at him, “So you like reading, huh?”

You visibly cringe and Jungkook chuckles. Your cheeks feel warm when you take him in, swirls and dots of his tattoos peeking out of his black leather jacket and beckoning you closer to him. The three hoops in his left ear glint with the light and the dangling earring on his right ear dangles with the movement of his head. His hair is tied back into a ponytail, accentuating the curve of his jaw and his soft dimples.

Your breath is stolen away when you meet his eyes, deep brown and murky, popping against the peach eyeshadow on his eyelids.

You nearly swoon on the spot before you get your bearings. Maybe he’d catch you if your knees buckled, you think dryly. How embarrassing.

“I try reading something new once a month,” Jungkook replies, pulling you out of your reverie, “And I just like the bookstore in general. Sometimes I like to just come here and hang out with Jia and Jae-sung.”

“Oh! Jia makes my favorite lavender chamomile tea. There’s nothing like it,” You say a little dreamily, “Jae-sung is a cutie. That boy can just look at you and you’d be putty in his hands. Kinda like you.”

The last bit slips out of your mouth without you meaning for it to.

“Kinda like me, huh,” Jungkook smirks, eyes glittering, “It would be fun to see if you’d be putty in my hands, wouldn’t it?”

“The world may never know,” You mumble sheepishly and avoid his eyes again, “What kind of book are you looking for?”

“The one you’re holding, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, looking past your shoulder for another copy of the same book.

“Are you looking for this book just because I’m reading it or because you’ve been genuinely eyeing it?” You ask boldly, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

“Oh, you’re funny,” Jungkook snorts, walking past you to grab the book off of the shelf.

“So I’ve been told,” Your eyes flash, “We should do a boozy book club.”

“Is it a book club if it’s just the two of us?”

“It can be whatever we want it to be,” You shrug, “Besides, don’t you wanna hang out with me?” You tilt your head and Jungkook’s resolve weakens. His heart does something funny- is this how it’s supposed to be?

“Of course I wanna hang out with you, baby,” Jungkook murmurs smoothly, “C’mon, let’s go have some of Jia’s tea. And a croissant too, if Jae hasn’t eaten them already.”

Jungkook glares at Jia the entire time that she’s making tea for both of you. He knows her sly, curious eyes and was unable to keep the surprise off of her face when you had both walked down the stairs together.

She even had the audacity to wink at him. He hopes that the family groupchat doesn’t start blowing up when Jia inevitably informs his aunt and mother about this new development.

“Kookie,” Jae-sung whispers (loudly) when you step away to use the bathroom, “Is dat your girlfriend?”

“What?” Jungkook hisses, “Who told you that?”

“My mommy say I ask you! I not know!”

“No, Jae, that’s not my girlfriend,” Jungkook mumbles, shooting Jia another death glare. She only smiles smugly at him from her spot behind the counter.

Jia leaves him alone for the most part when you return and take your seat next to him. He can still feel her eyes on you both as she washes teacups, watching like a hawk.

“These croissants are so good,” You nearly moan, “Where’d you get them?”

“There’s a bakery near the tattoo parlor,” Jungkook says, “You should come by sometime.”

“The bakery or the parlor?”

“Both?”

“I’ve only been there a few times,” You muse, “I hear you’re the best tattoo artist there. From the mouth of Hobi and Jin themselves.”

“Don’t let Mina and Mei hear you say that,” Jungkook says weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are a little pink and you resist chuckling to yourself.

“I’ve always wanted to get a second piercing,” You trail off, “But never really committed to it.”

“What would you want to get? We do piercings, too,” Jungkook says.

“Cartilage? Industrial? I don’t know,” You shrug, sipping your tea.

“Mina usually has a good eye for that,” Jungkook admits, “Now you have more of a reason to stop by.”

“Oh, I already had a reason to stop by the parlor,” You say brazenly with a sweet smile.

“Is that so?” Jungkook says, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You hum and continue to sip your tea, wondering if he can somehow hear the loud rattling of your eager heart in your ribcage.

Conversation with him comes so easily and you don’t know when the last time you had spent this long with him was. Something always seems to interrupt you both when you eventually do find yourselves alone with each other during outings with friends. But this time, it’s just you and him tucked away in this bookstore.

The sun has long gone down and Jia was about to close the bookstore for the day. In fact, the only reason she kept it open for this long was because of you both. You apologize profusely with worried eyes when you realize the time and see Jae-sung fast asleep in his mother’s arms.

She waves you off, giving Jungkook a lingering look that you don’t understand.

“I’ll be back soon,” You promise Jia in a soft voice, so as to not wake Jae-sung, “Be well, Jia.”

She bids you both goodnight, and unbeknownst to you, she shoots Jungkook a simple text. It states: “keep her close, i like her”.

Jungkook ignores it in favor of focusing on you.

“How you getting home, baby?” Jungkook asks as you both walk up the block shoulder to shoulder.

“Hmm… I’m supposed to meet Sora for dinner but she said she’s stuck at work,” You murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scroll on your phone, “But I was just on social media and it looks like she’s getting drinks with her other friends…”

You look at him with a frown tugging at your lips and your eyes wide. “Maybe it was a last minute thing,” You mumble to yourself.

“Or maybe she lied to you,” Jungkook says sharply. You only look at him in silence for a few moments with furrowed brows.

“Maybe there was a reason,” You shrug, “Why would she lie about that?”

Because she’s Sora, and she just would. But Jungkook stays silent. You don’t need to hear about how he dislikes your best friend, at least not yet. Not when you’re not ready to hear it.

“Forget about her,” Jungkook says easily, “Lemme take you home, baby.”

“I’m not riding that metal death contraption,” You say flatly, “You just got it! Like two weeks ago! You don’t even have an extra helmet, and forget a helmet, I need elbow pads and knee pads-”

“Will you relax,” Jungkook says, putting your books in the small basket he built into the front of the motorcycle.

“No, I will not relax, Jeon Jungkook!” You nearly screech, “This is so dangerous, we could both fall in the road and then what? Become roadkill for the next soccer mom van to run us both over? Death by soccer mom, what a way to go-”

“Are you done?” Jungkook says dryly.

“No, actually, I’m not done-”

“You trust me, baby?” Jungkook asks, hand on your shoulder. You can’t even properly appreciate the warmth of his large hand over your jacket.

“Of course I trust you, I don’t trust that,” You point at the motorcycle accusingly and Jungkook rolls his eyes. You can already feel your resolve weakening. He wordlessly places his own helmet over your own head and you glare at him, about to start your tirade again.

“You take mine,” Jungkook murmurs, “And hold on to me.”

“You can’t just give me your helmet, what if you fall? Or worse, get pulled over?”

“Or worse, get pulled over, are you joking-”

“Jungkook! Be serious!”

“I am being serious! You said you only live ten minutes from here, just relax. I won’t let anything happen to either of us,” Jungkook says, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“If anything happens, it’s your head on a platter and I’m bringing it to the tattoo parlor.”

“How can you do that if we both die?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You say, but a laugh escapes your lips. Jungkook sits on his bike and looks at you expectantly.

“C’mon, baby,” Jungkook coaxes you and you awkwardly sit behind him, making sure that your legs don’t touch his and your arms are safely away from him.

“If you sit like that, you’ll definitely fall off,” Jungkook snorts, “Wrap your arms around me.”

You hesitate, afraid of touching him like this for whatever reason. He unnerves you and you feel completely exposed like this. You’ve never really been this close to anyone, at least anyone who made you feel the way Jungkook makes you feel.

Biting the bullet, you tensely wrap your arms around his narrow waist loosely. “Good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, “Tighter, baby. I don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

Your stomach flips at his words, subconsciously wrapping your arms around his narrow waist even more tightly. Your fingers graze the hard press of his tummy over his jacket and you almost moan at how warm and strong he feels. He smells nice, like Sunday morning laundry.

“Ugh, you’re annoying-” And then you shriek as he pulls away from the road and shoots off into the night with you plastered against his backside.

“See that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jungkook says, taking the helmet off of you. He’s met with a glare but you sigh in defeat.

“No, I guess it wasn’t. But I never want you driving this hunk of death without a helmet for yourself,” You say, poking his chest.

“You should be nicer to her,” Jungkook says, taking your finger in his large hand.

“You’re right, it’s you that I should be mean to,” You roll your eyes. You wonder if Jungkook could feel your heart slamming in your chest (in fear, adrenaline and excitement) as you hung tight to him. You had refused to look up, pressing your face into his back and squeezing your eyes shut the entire way. Jungkook had only chuckled.

The heat in your eyes melts away quickly once Jungkook helps you off of the motorcycle. “Thanks for taking me home, Jungkook,” You murmur, “I’m glad I ran into you at the bookstore.”

“Any time, baby,” Jungkook says. A strand of dark hair falls from his ponytail and into his face. You reach your fingers up to thread through his hair before pushing it back behind his ear for him.

“Get home safe,” You say, with stars in your eyes, “Can I hug you?” When he nods, and before you can change your mind or convince yourself out of it, you wrap your arms around him. And before he can properly return it, you dash into your apartment building while calling out “text me when you get home!”

Hours later, when he’s in the comfort of his home, he decides that he likes the way your spicy vanilla scented perfume clings to his leather jacket.

tags: @kookdbean @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #badboy jk #badboy jungkook

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pigeonp0st · 3 years

Note

May I request a fic where Wanda Maximoff tries to make the reader who is shy laugh and accidentally discovers that the reader is extremely ticklish and she pins down and tickles the reader? Could you make it around 900 words and fluffy? Thank you! :)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #3

Words: 1,489

Warnings: A vaguely sexual sentence

Notes:

There’s not an ounce of angst in this? Who am I? And I’m uploading again after only 3 days??? I feel reborn! Anyways, thanks for requesting and sorry for spelling mistakes.

————

Supernova’s have nothing on you. That’s what Wanda thinks the first time she sees you smile. She thinks of supernova’s, planets, and comets in the sky and she thinks of how she’d give up them all just to hear you laugh.

She’d give star, on top of star, she’d give galaxies, and wishes that aren’t hers to give, she’d give you anything, if only she could.

Telling you that though, that won’t make you laugh. It isn't funny to her how much she adores you (how much she loves you), and she doesn’t think it will be funny to you either. Honestly, you’d probably cry, and then Wanda would also start crying— and you’d both just be crying.

No, Wanda decides fairly quickly, that isn’t a good decision.

So...instead she tries stupid jokes on the internet, pranks on the others, pranks on HERSELF, stupid faces... everything...but apparently everything is not enough to make you laugh.

It’s infuriating.

Infuriating because sometimes—sometimes, you look so close. So close to laughing that your shoulders shake with the effort to hold it in, and she’s left to wonder why you try so hard to keep her from the one thing she desires more than anything.

You’re her girlfriend, and she’s never heard you laugh. It’s quite possibly her greatest shortcoming in life (she has a lot of them). She’s heard chuckles, and breathy laughs, she’s heard small huffs of laughter, and she’s seen gigantic grins, but she’s never heard you laugh fully, and unapologetically.

Today— today will be the day it happens. She’s more determined than ever.

————-

Today won’t be the day. She’s tried everything and more, and the only thing she’s gotten out of it is you looking at her like she’s crazy.

“I’ll pay you,” Wanda finally says, “please if you just...if you just…” She can’t bring herself to say what she wants because somehow it feels like she’s breaking the rules she’s made up in her head. “Can you just please?”

You watch her for a couple of moments, thinking so hard she can almost see the wheels turning in your head—yes, yes, yes, finally, Wanda thinks— but then you shake your head in exasperation, and continue eating your dinner.

Okay, this is fine; Wanda tells herself.

...tomorrow will be the day.

———-

“Have you...just tried to tickle her?” Sam asks Wanda the next day. “I noticed her holding in her laughter when that stray we kept last week started licking her foot—so she’s probably ticklish.”

She’s been complaining to him about her failures their whole lunch, and it seems to have paid off. Sam is a very smart guy. When she says so though he snorts and shakes his head in amusement.

“No red wizard, this time I think this is more about what you lack than what I have. You’ve been thinking too big.”

Wanda glares at him. “Call me ‘red wizard’ again the next place you’ll be flying is into a volcano.”

…Despite the change in their conversation, and the bickering it turns into, it was a very helpful discussion.

———

Mission ‘Hyena” is a go (she decided to name it Hyena because they are known for their laughs. She thinks it’s pretty creative).

All she has to do, she decides, is ambush you. The best time for it will be right after training—you usually decide to take a quick bath and lounge in bed afterwards, and you’re very sweet and gullible when you’re tired.

For some reason her plans make her feel like a very sneaky and awful person. She feels a bit of guilt…it doesn’t override her excitement, fortunately. She has been waiting for this day too long to feel any significant amount of guilt. Plus, it’s not like her end goal is malicious.

———

You're laying in bed scrolling through your phone when you get pounced on by Wanda….You’re not exactly surprised by the occurrence though.

Wanda’s been looking at you like a panther when she thinks you aren’t looking, but one that’s truly bad at hunting. So you aren’t surprised that she jumps on you, but you are surprised about WHY she jumps on you.

You were expecting something far more scandalous than a tickle fest.

———

Wanda doesn’t start tickling you immediately. She’s so utterly shocked by your expectant raised eyebrow that she just pauses for a moment, lost.

“Is it okay that i’m on top of you?” Wanda asks after a moment, because she realizes that she sort of has you trapped.

You pause, thinking with narrowed eyes. Then say, more amused than disappointed, but still slightly disappointed, “yeah.”

Wanda thinks back on all these past weeks, on all of her efforts to make you laugh—actually laugh— and starts to raise her hands-

“Is this the part where you tickle me?”

Her hands freeze. She freezes. You even freeze.

“Oh,” you say, smirking with a look far too smug, and far too victorious for someone who was supposed to be losing, “did you think I was an idiot?”

And Wanda drops her hands back down, this time not on your wrist but across her chest, and then over her face because she has truly never felt more ashamed. Not for her schemes, but for how she’s failed them.

She doesn’t know when this turned into some sort of competition, but it’s clearly one-sided.

“So...you’re not going to tickle me?” You ask when Wanda gets off of you.

Wanda grits her teeth, feeling more bitter than she ought to feel. “No, you dork, if I tickle you now it’s anticlimactic. You just had to go and talk, didn’t you?”

You actually have the decency to look guilty for a second, but then you realize what the two of you are talking about and just snort. “What is this, some badly written fic on tumblr by some overwhelmed gay author? At least try. Come on, it will be amusing for me. You might even get me to laugh at your struggles.”

Wanda doesn’t really stop to muse about how oddly specific you were, she just rolls her eyes and turns to leave...only to get stopped by you tugging on the back of her shirt.

When she looks over her shoulder to look at you your eyes are hard and determined, and she knows what’s about to happen now too. Just like you had.

She knows, because the determined set to your eyes turns soft the second Wanda meets her eyes to yours, and you're sitting back down now, letting go of Wanda’s shirt.

“You really gonna give up that easily?” You ask quietly, eyes shifting to the ground. And Wanda is just melting, melting because she loves you and you’re the sweetest person she’s ever met, melting because you're willing—you want— to give her what she wants.

Wanda lets out a small breathless laugh, turns around completely, bops you on the nose with a soft smile gracing her lips, and only hopes that it communicates ‘I love you’ effectively enough.

You smile back, unable not to, waiting for Wanda to look for what she wants. “Who cares if it’s anti-climatic, right?”

To your surprise, Wanda grins, kissing the top of your head, and says; “I wanna surprise you. It’s more fun that way.”

So you grumble and pull her into a hug, because if she isn’t going to tickle you, you expect her to hold you anyways.

She does.

———

Mission Hyena fails. She’s not too mad about it.

She can’t be, when just the next morning she wakes you up with kisses, and tickles, and you wake up grumpy and laughing all at once.

She can’t be when your laughter fills her sun kissed room with even more light, and she can’t be when this moment feels like it’s more than worth the wait.

As Wanda watches you laugh, watches as you throw your head back and force out breathless, soft pleads, she thinks that she would have waited eternity for this moment.

Supernova’s, galaxies, comets, wishes, and an endless amount of stars, they all would have been worth it, but none of them would have been a payment high enough. ‘Anything’ is not even sufficient enough.

You just look and sound so happy, and it’s all Wanda has ever wanted to give you. It warms her heart more than anything else ever could, warms it so much she wishes she could bottle this moment and keep it with her forever, because memories aren’t good enough either.

Still, when you ask afterwards, grinning and exhausted with your arm still clutching your torso and your voice still raspy; “was it worth it all?”

Wanda smiles, fulfilled and happy too, and doesn’t mention the price she was willing so pay. She just nods her head, and says; “Yeah. Yeah, I think it was.”

Like she wasn’t just considering if next time the universe would be enough.

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