#it takes a great deal of courage to write so much angst and a great deal of talent to write it so well

[mrs-weasley-reid]

JUST SAY WHEN

Spencer Reid x writer!reader

Synopsis: You always choose Spencer Reid, but is it the right choice? Word Count: 3500+ WARNING: ANGST. not proofread!!! A/N: oh, here we go again... the angst plot in my head. this one feels disorganized. like my writing is all over. i've had this one in my drafts for over a month. but today i have the courage to hit post. honestly have mixed feelings about this. it's a new type of reader I'm dabbling in so i really am anxious about this. tell me what you think!

 “You should’ve seen him when he first saw me.”

THE PURCHASE.

 Vast lavender field soaked in chamomile tea. Dusty sunset through the window pane. Overwhelming aroma of old books. One figure tiptoes to the eighth shelf. Arm stretched to reach an old copy of The Scarlet Letter.

 Whenever Spencer is asked what he felt at that moment, he thinks, “Like I saw an angel freshly descended from heaven.”

 “Shit—” Gasps by the said angel.

 A book and body drop on the carpeted floor.

 Spencer runs to your aid. A failed attempt to prevent the seething pain you momentarily felt. First of many.

 “Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling next to you. Spencer reflexively offers his hand.

 You chuckle, taking his hand, and you feel him tense. “Don’t worry, I’ve had it worse.” You retract your limb to focus the pads of your hands on dusting yourself, squatting down to pick up the book.

 Spencer nods unknowingly despite the confusion and the knots in his eyebrows. He glances at the book, “That’s a great book.”

 Following his gaze, you hoist it up with a grin. “Very,” You emphasize. “I’ve read this, like, ten— thirteen times?” You brag excitedly, sparkling eyes as you meet his big brown sight.

 “Eighty-four.”

 You hum, raising your brows. 

 “I’ve read it eighty-four times.” Spencer shyly smiles, tight lips in a curved line. His hands grip the strap of his leather satchel. Socializing has always been his worst skill, let alone talking to someone as beautiful as you. He can’t help but feel his tongue twist itself into knots he can’t untie.

 You blink—slowly and adorably innocent. “What?” You chirp. It’s not every day you meet someone who’s read a book more times than you. Plus, the boy in front of you is quite the charmer, and you’re distracted by the glow of hazels in his eyes. 

 Spencer nibbles on his lips, and a faint reddish glow creeps all over the land of his skin. “I— uh, I have to go. Bye.” He shuffles as if his body can’t figure out where to direct itself and ends up malfunctioning in the process. In the end, he walks past you, rushing to another aisle.

 It takes you roughly twenty seconds to process that he’s no longer in front of you, twisting your body to his trail. “Eighty-four?!” You exclaim, baffled. 

 Your feet chase after him. “Wait!” You try to match his pace, almost jogging to catch up. “How is that even possible?” You get past him, completely blocking his way. “You just love this book so much that you read it on a loop, or what?” 

 “It really isn’t that big of a deal…” He mumbles, eyes glitching from one title to another, to towers of spines except you. A book with such a beautiful cover, his hands itch to reach and flip every page into memory.

 You place your hands on your hips, furrowing your brows. “Tell me how you read it eighty-four times. I won’t leave you alone until you do. And I swear I’m the most annoying person you’ll ever meet, so it might be in your best interest to get rid of me quickly before you go insane.” You shrug like it’s a normal thing to say to a stranger.

 Curiosity brims from your eyes, like a big doe's eyes begging a prey to bite her limb for the sake of adventure. And like a pirate tempted by a siren, Spencer takes the bait.

 “My mom loves the book, so I read it to her all the time.” He admits, a hand behind his neck. It’s the start of a long explanation. You don’t dare stop him. Your eyes are fully fixed on his moving lips. He can feel it. And he fights not to meet yours because he just might explode.

 Right then and there, you know the small contact from his hand completely stole your heart. And his words hold you into a willing prisoner because you saw him first from afar. Because you specifically chose the book in your hand despite having two copies of it to avoid first contact. Because you didn’t want him to know how long you’ve been staring. 

 Spencer gets abruptly cut off by a patron bumping into him. You fight every willpower in your chest to keep yourself from making a scene in a mall’s bookstore, shifting your attention to him.

 “Want to talk more about it over coffee?” 

 “I was mesmerized. The beauty of his mind was so intricate I couldn’t stop myself from falling even if I tried. I wanted him to own me. And it happened just as I wanted. I just didn’t know it’d be torture… Reaching his hand out was his fatal mistake. Taking his hand was my demise.”

THE FIRST CHIP.

 Disheveled. Broken. Sharp.

 Big brown eyes dull in the dead of the night. Spencer stands before you with indifference.

 He’s changed.

 But the grip on the neck of his satchel tells you your Spencer is still there behind the walls he put up. The first of many false hopes you convince yourself to believe.

 Five months. You’ve been dating Spencer Reid for only five months. And you’re in love with every fiber of his being. Only five months, and you know you’d love him for the longest run. 

 When people ask why you love him, you say, “Because I know he’ll never hurt me.”

 Then it happens.

 Tobias Hankel. 

 You loathe the name the moment you hear it. Accidentally burn yourself in the middle of making dinner when you receive a call from Penelope Garcia that Spencer’s been kidnapped by a serial killer. 

 In the moment, you panic. Almost causing a huge fire in your apartment building as you babble over the phone, asking Penelope where the hell your boyfriend is being held as if the word kidnapped meant a mark on a map.

 Then, you worry. You beg Penelope to let you in on the progress of his search. You pace in your living room. You read every true crime book on your shelf. You pray on each page that an answer will dawn on you and that you’ll have something of use to locate Spencer, as if you knew everything when, in reality, all you knew was that he’s held captive by some sick villain in your story. 

 You felt like every sidekick in a hero’s movie. Useless.

 When Penelope tells you that he’s on his way home, you’re never too tired or sleep-deprived to drive to his place. You waited hours outside his doorstep. You ignore the shivery breeze all over your skin, as you’d forgotten to change into something more weather-appropriate. You don’t worry about the unattended kitchen, the food you are excited to make. 

 You only think about one thing: be the first person Spencer sees when he comes home. 

 He arrives in the sixth hour, close to dawn. There's a gauze on his temple. His eyes are glued to the wooden floor.

 It’s a strength not to cry out from the sight. Worry courses throughout your body. But the relief that he’s made it home safe cancels the anxiety out of your head. All you want is to cradle him, wrap him in your arms to remind him of home, of safety, of being loved.

 You take Spencer into a tight hug. “I was so worried.” You whisper in his chest, breathing in his wake. He’s safe. Everything should be okay. “I’m glad you’re safe. I care about you so much.”

 Only for him to say, “You should go home. It’s late.”

 “I’m not gonna leave you by yourself.” You shake your head, pulling away to stare at his empty face. Your palm cups his cheek, and it’s cold. He doesn’t lean against it. He simply winces like your touch is dangerous.

 “I’m too tired to entertain a guest.”

 You.

 A guest.

 There’s a small sting inside your chest that you ignore don’t notice. Your heart feels similar to a teacup with a chip on its rims. Delicately painful to the touch. 

 You swallow the thick air in the middle of your throat, nodding as you bite the tears from the back of your eyes. “Alright, my love…” You softly enunciate, not wanting to sob at the sight of Spencer avoiding your image.

 The spark in him that you love so much is nowhere to be found. Only hatred and something you can’t figure out swim behind his irises. He doesn’t even reach for your hand. Doesn’t hum in delight like he always does when your skin caresses him.

 A prominent chip marks your being. As if you had been dropped from two floors down. 

 You shove the thought away. 

 You tell yourself that Spencer needs his space. Tell yourself that he needs time to process, to heal. You tell yourself it’s okay because Spencer’s had a long week. You tell yourself it’s not about you.

 You leave a kiss on his cheek, “Rest well. Call me if you need anything.” You walk down the stairs with a weight you don’t discern. 

 Spencer doesn’t say he will.

 And he didn’t.

 “It takes a while before I realize the chip he caused. And even then, I said, what is love if I never get hurt? What is love if there’s no struggle? Besides, there are moments when the chip didn’t hurt. Minimum effort filled the aching void. Simplest gestures blinded me. Sweetest words impaired my hearing. I wasn’t hypnotized or caught in a spell. It’s plain and simple. He had a hold on me. I chose not to break free.”

THE VOICES IN HIS HEAD.

 “Oh, here we go again.”

 You feel yourself physically shrink.

 Spencer rolls his eyes, pushing one hand into the depths of his right eye socket. Heavy sighs drool off his lips. The pounding in his head makes his vision blurry. And you’re convinced some type of voice tells him you’re no one important in his life. 

 You had asked him if he’d like to take a break from his files. After he’d said no, you carefully made a point that he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. Then, you’re back to the now, where Spencer snaps at the mere mention of taking his fingers off the thin edges of the case. 

 A year into loving him. A year into being his solace—his words that now seem to be a lie—and you feel your entire body tense with every twitch and narrow of his eyes. 

 “Can’t you just leave me alone?” 

 Your chest tightens. A tug hitches your breath. A strong pressure sits over your lungs, deflating every air out without any chance of inflating back. 

 Since that night, Spencer changed. And you don't blame him. Completely understanding the stake of his trauma. Motivated to make his days better, to make him feel better. 

 The first month since that evening, Spencer didn’t text or call. He didn’t answer yours either. He isolated himself, and you’d heard from JJ that they even had a hard time talking to him. 

 So, you thought you weren't alone. That you weren't the problem. Because if everybody else can't reach him, then Spencer must want his solitude.

 You climb on your shelf. You patiently wait for him to want you again. You let it happen. Let him consume you despite the ache that gnaws in the back of your mind.

 And when he comes knocking on your door. You swing it so fast, eager to have him back in your arms. You lock the tingly feeling inside a vault. Because Spencer said he loves you that day.

 “I’m trying to do my job. It’s a difficult job, unlike yours, where you just scribble on paper or tap on your annoying keyboard and be done for the day.” 

 It cracks. Every fiber of your being cracks. The colorful memories are stricken with connected lines, slowly turning into a depressing gray. 

 You crack internally. A glass hit with force enough to break but not enough to shatter apart. Your skin holds up every broken part like a puzzle piece. 

 He’s just mad. He doesn’t mean it. You chant inside your head. You don’t know who you’re lying to.

 Spencer said he loves your writing. Love every word lined by your weaving hand. Love the stories formed from mundane moments and late nights. Love the emotions that brim within spaces and punctuation marks. 

 And you wonder if you should've kept not believing it. If you should've stayed appreciative but never convinced.

 “There are people’s lives at stake. I’m saving people’s lives, not filling their free time by reading your made-up stories.” 

 A target made to be maimed. Spencer aims at the center with precision. And you’re stricken with every shot.

 Your feet step back on their own. A subconscious pull for safety. Heart beats in fear, in ache. 

 “I’m sorry.”

 It dies in your throat. Your body shakes in so much pain you don't mind the way your heart and lungs shrink. Afraid that tears may fall, willing them to stay in place—in the back of your eyes where Spencer won't find them. 

 His migraines worsen. You tell yourself. 

 He’s still in pain. You remind yourself.

 His job is more important. You convince yourself. 

 Excuses after excuses. You make it a habit. Make excuses for him to distract the piercing agony.

 “W-why don’t I give you some space? Refill your cup?” You offer a smile like it’s a job you must carry successfully.

 Spencer gulps, hands in his pockets. “That would be great. Thanks.” He replies, getting back on his seat as if he hadn’t just cut through you like a sharp ax splitting a small trunk in half.

 You flinch when he shuts the door as soon as you step out of the room. Each piece vibrates in place, waiting for the last hit.

 “Litany of reasons come after that. I woke up each day with yet another excuse. A shameful attempt to sell what was rotten. Until I took a bite of it myself, and I tasted the sickening truth.”

THE DESTROYED SAND CASTLE.

 It's deafening. 

 The sound of you shattering into a thousand pieces. Sharp edges cut through every fabric of what you thought was true, what you thought was real. 

 “I love her.”

 But you're not her.

 You’re not the great Dr. Maeve Donovan. The woman who kept his migraines at bay, if not anything, cured them. The smart, beautiful, successful woman who rang every local pay phone in his vicinity. The woman that occupied his waking days. Days he went through next to you.

 Dr. Maeve Donovan. Spencer’s great love.

 And he’s never seen her in person until her last breath. But her voice is enough to steal him away from you. Enough for the color in Spencer’s skin to light back up after years of your failed attempts. Enough for Spencer to fall in love with her. Enough to stay in love with her despite her being gone in the wind. Despite you sleeping next to him every single night.

 She was enough. The idea of her is enough.

 “I love her.”

 Love. Present tense. Spencer loves her. 

 You don’t remember the last time he’d ever said those words to you. Don’t remember the genuine emotions that radiate along those words. Don’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt loved by him.

 “Hey…” 

 You walk past Penelope. You don't realize it until she catches your arm, distracted by the fatal explosion inside your chest. You can see the way your world crumbles like a sand castle kicked by the meanest bully.

 “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Did you not find Reid? Is he not in Hotch’s office?” Her eyes soften at the sight of your tears flowing like a steady river. “He’s safe, I promise. Just a little graze, you’ll see.” She tries to console you, rubbing the side of your arm.

 Just a little graze.

 Spencer has been carving little grazes on you for years, and the final blow causes your entire life to shatter in fine dust—close to nonexistence. 

 “Do you mind telling Spencer that there was an emergency, so I had to go?” Your voice breaks with each syllable, fighting the sobs from spilling out. It’s numbingly painful. Every part of you is sore and aching. 

 Penelope furrows her brows, “Sure, but is everything okay? What emergency?” She pries, no bad intentions, simply a sign of her kindness.

 You take a rough gulp. “I…” You look into her eyes, begging for her not to ask further. 

 She nods, giving you a soft squeeze on your arm and a warm smile. That's when you knew that she knew exactly the source of your nonstop tears. Maybe no longer than you did because you can see the anger in her eyes. At least she's on your side. And it's enough for you. “Call me if you need anything, love,” Penelope says, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m always here for you. I’m always ready to be on your side.” She adds against your neck.

 And you're heading towards the elevator without a second thought.

 You hear your name as the doors close, lifting your head to find Spencer coming out of the bullpen. Penelope is true to her words, blocking him from reaching where you stand. His voice makes your insides churn. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue is sickening.

 Your body collapses on the floor. The sobs finally echo within the tight space. The tears endlessly flow in raging torrents between floors. You wrap your arms around your torso, holding yourself together.

 But it's way too late.

 Every piece of you has already shattered into messy pieces. Spread out in broken parts, unfit even if you tried to glue yourself back together. 

 Spencer has destroyed the castle you've built. The castle you made just for him. 

 You wonder if it's all for show. If Spencer chose to keep you just to avoid his boredom when Maeve’s unreachable. If he only tolerated you to fill her physical absence.

 But you should’ve known that it was a matter of time. His kisses were merely ghosts. His touch was stinging cold. His words were hallow. 

 The signs were clear in plain sight.

 Spencer stopped loving you a long time ago.

 "It's my fault." You say out loud, as if thinking it isn't painful enough.

 You made a choice. Each day, you choose to make up new reasons why Spencer is distant. You convince yourself that you aren't hurt by his cold glances. You tell yourself that it’s not torture if you love him.

 The elevator dings to the last floor.

 “Remnants of myself dried up inside that box.”

 Tongue runs over the softness of your lips as the final lines of your book approach with the same heart-wrenching ache. For the audience, at least.

 You flip the page, lifting your gaze. You scan the mass of teary eyes and silent sobs.

 There, you find two familiar faces. Penelope sniffs next to Rossi, who’s smiling proudly. The sweet blonde became your secret ray of sunshine. And the Italian mentored your way to a New York Times bestseller.

 "In that tight space. In the center of those four moving walls. I wished so much that he'd only said when. When everything felt too much. When I was unwanted. When he stopped loving me. I would've understood. Because I always did."

 What you don’t expect is the third familiar figure. It stands in the farthest back. A shadow if you don’t know any better. You take a deep breath.

 The next words are etched in your brain. The first words you’ve ever written in the making of the book under your palm. The words that still ring in your ears.

 “I must say, it’s not that I never learned. I learned so much that within the cracks of my broken self, I filled them with empty promises. Promises I never kept. Promises I broke because I believed I’d be fixed in a couple of days. I believed that the space between pieces of me would mend if I made the choice to stay.”

 His hair is unkempt. His eyes are as brown as the healthiest earth. His build is leaner. His face is worn out by horrors you don't dare imagine.

 Flashes of his pleas, his tears, his knocks on your door. You remember them like they were just yesterday. The pain that left a prominent indentation on your heart.

 Tattoos of pain adorn his face. Has he been there the entire time? Do you really care if he was?

 You lock eyes with Spencer, pausing for a moment. You let the past seep in. You unlock the vault of your broken pieces. Let them sing in agony. Let him hear the melody of your suffering.

 And then it stops. They vanish through the air of peace. The relief of moving on.

 You smile at him. The one that started everything.

 “It’s important to know that I always had a choice. And with that is the acceptance that each time I chose wrong.”

reid masterlist | masterlist

[alonetimelover]

"I can't stop thinking of you" for Harry maybe?

Also, your writing is really so so great🫶

"I can't stop thinking of you."

pairing: Harry Styles x booktuber!reader

summary: YN and Harry had loved each other for months. The thing was, none of them was brave enough to admit it. So what happened when Harry found the courage and YN made a mistake the night before?

word count: ~1,4k

warnings: mentions of sex (nothing explicit), angst!, heartbreak, and some feels from Harry

a/n: Thank you so much for requesting and your lovely words!

blurb weekend prompts blurb#1

booktuber!reader: part 1 part 2

Well, YN never was good with dealing with her emotions. There were always two options: run from it or make a decision that you’d regret the next day. She tried to take option one all the time, but making mistakes was engraved in her life story (like in anybody else’s). Lately, or should it be said, yesterday, she made a mistake she felt was going to ruin her most valuable relationship - her friendship with Harry. 

“YN, please. Don’t tell me you went home with him,” her best friend screamed into the phone. 

YN looked over her shoulder, gazing at the man sleeping in her bed. The duvet was placed over his lower body, exposing his muscular back painted with black tattoos. His curly hair was splayed across one of her least favourite cushions, creating a brown nest. In a good way. 

“And what if I did?”

“Did you look at him even once last night?!”

She moved out of the bedroom, closing the door after herself, so as to not disturb the sleeping man. 

“Of course I did,” she scoffed. 

“So you know what you did.”

YN sighed into her phone. Of course, she knew what she did.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

YN moved around the kitchen taking things out of the cabinets and fridge to make some breakfast. She started her newly bought express, needing some caffeine. If she was going to get through this phone call, she needed as much help as she could get. Well, then she would need to face the man from the bedroom, but it was a task for a ‘future her’. 

“You slept with Harry’s doppelganger!”

Right. In her bed was a sleeping 6 feet tall man with darkish brown hair and tattoos almost all over his body. In the club last night, she couldn’t distinguish more details than those, but she needed something, someone to help her forget him. The appearance closer to someone she was attracted to was just a plus. 

When the lights were illuminating the man's face she knew how ironic it all was. His cheekbones were high and sharp just as his jawline perfectly accented. The dimples deep into his cheeks whenever he was sending her that white smile. And those green eyes. Right there, she deep down knew he wasn’t there to help her forget about Harry. No. He was there to somehow be him, to make her feel as if he could ever be hers.

“They look nothing alike,” YN lied, sipping her coffee, cursing after burning her tongue. “Fuck.”

“You’re either blind or delusional. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re very supportive, babe.”

“I’m not going to support whatever you’re trying to do. It’s a mistake, YN. Trust me.”

“How do you know?” She raised her voice. “Maybe it’s good for me. I slept with him, it was great. And now I can forget about Harry and move on with my life.”

“You can forget about Harry?”

“Easy. Done.” 

YN placed the coffee mug on the counter with a thud, spilling half of it. She really was over the talk. She decided to have sex with that man, and she did. She didn’t regret it and didn’t lie about it being great. The man, Henry (yes, she knew fate was really messing with her) treated her right. She had a very good night. It was all about the consequences. She didn’t want them to become clean. And all the talk she was having was writing those mistakes with black ink on paper. 

“Is it? Is it that easy to forget about the man you’ve been in love with for months?”

There it was, period on paper. 

And before she could answer anything, there was a sound of knocking echoing through her flat. 

“I need to go. Someone’s at the door. Can we please meet up today?”

“Of course. My place at 5. You bring wine, I make dinner.”

“Okay. Love you, bye.”

After hearing the good bye back, YN moved across the room and towards the door. After unlocking it, having made sure that her bathrobe was covering everything it could, she opened the door. 

Fuck you, fate. 

“YN.”

“Ha- Harry. Hi. Uhm, what are you doing here?”

Now, she felt even more exposed. Couldn’t it be her noisy neighbour or the courier with the delivery she had been waiting for for days? 

“Well,” he started slowly, immediately halting in thought for a moment. “I don’t really know. Can I come in?”

“It’s really not the best time.”

Puzzles had been slowly being put together in his brain. After waking up today and seeing YN’s post on instagram he felt part of his heart breaking. He covered his feelings for her deep inside, praying for them to never come up. He put on the role of a best friend and was proud of it. He could never jeopardise that friendship. YN was somebody that he knew his soul was searching for. 

“I just need a few minutes.” 

“Maybe during lunch? At that bistro you’d talked about?”

“YN, please.” 

He knew that if he didn’t say anything right now, he’d never do it. When the courage was still in his veins, he had to use it. Whatever would follow, that would be his fate. 

“I can’t stop thinking of you. You’re in my mind when I wake up, looking up at the ceiling you sprayed with that wine, thinking that I should really paint it. You’re in my mind when I make breakfast, because of that time when we were doing it together and you got the email about your grandad’s shop being sold to you. It always makes me smile, thinking how happy you were at that moment. You’re in my mind when I’m driving down to Chesire, pointing out all the yellow doors you were so infatuated by, when you drove to mum’s with me. You’re in my mind when I fall asleep, remembering how many times I held you in my arms and felt whole. And- and I can’t do any of those without thinking of you. You’re engraved in my mind. In my heart.”

Harry took a deep breath and finally looked at YN. Her eyes were glossy, looking at him with that look he could never distinguish and put in any category. The one thing he admitted to not know about her - that look. 

Through his whole monologue she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She was in his mind. She was something that he couldn’t possibly forget. She was his. And that feeling, that love for him was beaming from her eyes. The look of love. 

“Harry, I-”

“You don’t need to say anything, really.” He started rambling, somehow embarrassed that he had let himself out like that. “You don’t need to say that you feel the same way. I can deal with rejection. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have come.”

“No. Stay,” she said immediately, reaching for his hand. 

She felt the electricity going through Harry’s palm to hers and straight to her heart. She looked into his eyes, searching for any grain of doubt in his feelings, finding none. 

“Harry, I can’t express how long I’ve been waiting to tell you this.” She laughed, not believing that she was going to admit everything. “I lo-”

“YN?” 

Harry’s eyes moved from YN’s, landing at the source of the interruption. His hopeful eyes lost the spark in milliseconds. His smile faded and the grip of his fingers on hers, loosen. He was a fool, believing that she could feel the same. He felt betrayed. Even more when the stranger turned around and locked his eyes with Harry. 

Harry took a step back, diverting his eyes from the man and then back to YN. Puzzles were tossed on the ground and with each second stepped on, losing colour and making the outlines unreadable. 

YN looked over her shoulder, seeing Henry standing near her couch in nothing but his underwear. She wanted to think that ‘it couldn’t be happening right now’, but she knew better. The decisions she had made yesterday and regretted, backfired on her. The decision, which just now, was costing her the friendship she was so protective of. The love she was so afraid to fall into. It all was drifting away. 

“Harry,” YN whispered, trying to find the words to explain the situation. 

“It’s okay.” Words, like venom, were sipping out of his tongue. Even Harry didn’t like the way it sounded or the tone he used. “No need to explain. I think you have someone to get back to. Have a good day, YN.” 

And just like that he was gone. And so were their hopes that it all could have turned out the way they dreamed about. 

Fate really was heartless.

[lebbys-world]

Hi 💜, I'm same anon who requested the todoroki x reader fic, where reader has a hyper fixation with mugs. And It's been great comfort to me, it warms my heart when ever I read it, so thanks for doing it.

But if it's okay, I like to request another todoroki x reader, comfort fic, where reader's dealing with anxiety, and to cope with the overwhelming and confusing feelings she cleans and listens to music to distract herself. But then she also finds it difficult to communicate her feelings because she's overthinking them, like "what if I'm overreacting," "what if it's really not something worth talking about," "what if the person I'm talking to either doesn't try to understand how I feel or get mad at me for feeling the way I do."

And the worst part of it all is, reader despises crying in front of people, like something about it just makes her feel worse, but she can't talk about how she feels without crying, so it's just a lot to where reader doesn't love talking about it, but she knows that communication is what makes relationships works, so she tries to pull together the courage to talk about how she feels with Todoroki, so whenever she feels like this again she has someone to talk to.

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

So not gonna lie, this is very self indulging, I had a rough day a few days ago and another one now, so I kinda need the comfort. But again, you don't have to use this, and I hope you have a great day.

Also I've seen other blogs do emojis for anons as like an identification, so you as the writer know what kinda of things you're getting into. I guess, so if you plan to do that for your blog, I'd like to be "💜" because I love your writing and would like to request more if you're okay with it.

Beside Me

Todoroki x gn!reader; description of panic attack, self deprecating thoughts (the italicized paragraph - can be skipped over), angst to comfort, reader comforted by character

notes: welcome back 💜Anon !! always feel free to send in any requests you’d like !! sorry things have been a bit rough for you lately, but i do hope that this helps to bring some comfort !! hope to see you around my blog again soon !! <3

The heavy, pulsing drum of your heart beats loudly in your head. 

It feels as if every breath you take is suffocating; each could easily be your last.

The world around you feels as if it were off its axis, making your hands shake, and your legs go numb.

You managed to force your body to sit down, finding some stability on the floor of your dorm.

You’d tried dealing with the anxiety the moment it came on, desperately searching for a quick distraction.

Music was an easy go-to. It drowned out your thoughts for a little while - long enough so that you could try and focus on another task.

But it was all too much.

Everything was just too much.

The music that was meant to be comforting suddenly became a violent backing track for your crescendo of thoughts:

The day had been fine. You’re just overreacting.

No one is actually gonna help you, you know? 

Why is everything going so fast?

This is so pathetic.

I just want to feel okay again.

Why couldn't I even just clean my room?

Someone, please, help me.

Getting my hopes up is ridiculous. 

Everything is just worse when I inevitably get let down.

Why can't we just try? 

Do they even care? It doesn’t seem like it.

Maybe one day I’ll be loved. 

Maybe someday, someone will-

Your thoughts are cut off by the loud knock outside your door.

You take a shallow breath as you crane your head to the doorway, watching as the door slowly opens.

“Hey, y/n, I called you a little while ago.. You didn't pick up.”

The door opens and your eyes meet the heterochromic ones of Todoroki, staring at you ever so gently.

There’s no condemnation in his eyes.

No disappointment, or judgment.

He looked at you so softly, the only thing behind his eyes being concern and love.

You took another shaky breath as a tear unknowingly fell down your face, leading the man in front of you to prompt more questions.

“Is everything alright? What happened?”

You remain wordless as he approaches you, carefully reaching out a hand to hold yours. 

He quickly takes note of your hand’s slight shaking, placing his other hand on top in an attempt to steady you.

“Do you wanna talk to me?”

You nod, more tears falling quietly down. You can already hear your internal thoughts berating yourself for being so weak in front of someone else.

“How about for now, you just breathe with me.” He suggests, trying to demonstrate to you a technique to lower your hurried heart rate.

“Just breathe with me. When you’re ready, we can talk about everything on your mind.”

With a few in sync breaths, you huff out a small laugh,

“Thank you, Shoto.” 

He looked at you with such tenderness and earnesty, as he uttered his response:

“I’ll be right here when you need me.”

And he always was.

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[venerawrites]

I need a Gaara hc or small fic where his s/o took an interest to kankuro than him ❤️

If u see this (have a great day!!) 💕

Gaara x gn! reader

author's note: thank you so much for your request! Gaara is one of my favourite characters in the show, so it was an absolute pleasure to write this one! I think it got a little bit longer than intended, but I hope you still like it! Also, I hope you had a pretty great day yourself <3

Warnings: none, slight angst? (not a warning, just a note - also I tried to make reader gn, since it was not specified in the request. If anyone sees any pronounce other than "they/them" used, please let me know.) <3

Memories of that one particular night often invaded his thoughts uninvited. Sweet memories, filled with soft music, heavy smoke, and a pair of dark eyes, which have haunted his being every waking moment for almost a year now...

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

The war was officially over. After a long period of struggles, losses, and the lost lives of countless young men and women, the citizens of Suna finally had the chance to continue their lives, free from worry and fear. And what better way to acknowledge this new freedom than a village festival?

Gaara reluctantly has agreed for the Council to organize a celebration, despite the current "black hole" in the village's finances. In his view, a priority was the rebuilding of the buildings and strengthening the economy, rather than hiring questionable street performers and musicians.

"Stones and sand blokes are easily replaced, My Lord", one of the old councillors has said to him earlier that day, "But is the spirit of the people that need to be brought back to life. They need an escape... a way to forget the painful and bloody reality we all live in."

That night he found himself silently following his siblings through the busy streets of Suna, his pale eyes observing the smiling faces of reunited families and the cheerful laughter of warriors, who eagerly shared stories of their bravery and courage to their fellow villagers. Maybe the councillor was right after all..

"Gaara, look", his brother shouted excitedly, pulling his sleeve and pointing towards a large tent towards the end of the village square. An old wooden sign was hanging next to the entrance stating: "Exotic dancers from far away lands... Come and experience the magic!"

The young Kazekage signed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He already felt irritated that he had to postpone his work for the day, but having to deal with his older brother, who acted like a hormonal teenager, made his mood even more sour.

"Kankuro, I don't think-"

Before he can finish his sentence, Kankuro has already wrapped his hand around his elbow and was dragging the redhead towards the tent. Temari, who was murmuring something under her breath, soon followed, looking just as annoyed as Gaara.

"We already visited three of the village attractions chosen by Temari", Kankuro finally said, looking at his sister, who crossed her arms and rolled her eyes in response, "Now it is my turn."

The siblings entered the tent and Gaara had to immediately squint his eyes to adjust his vision to his surroundings. The air was heavy with white smoke, carrying a certain sweetness to it, a product of the numerous pipes placed on the tables around the space. The light was dim, coming only from the small candle lights hanging around the ceiling.

"Kankuro", Temari coughed, waving her hand in front of her face, "Where did you bring us? I can barely breathe here."

The puppet master clicked his tongue, taking a seat at one of the empty central tables.

"Ah, stop complaining", he smirked, waiving her off, "I endured an hour of half-naked men twirling fire sticks. I am sure you can enjoy a few minutes of real art."

Temari opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself once Gaara glanced at her. He shook his head, signalling her not to argue. The two eldest siblings have been bickering all evening and the Kazekage's patience was running thin. He preferred to just agree to his brother's wish and hopefully after that, he would finally manage to escape back to his office and continue his work.

"Ah, what a surprise! What a surprise!", an excited voice sounded behind them and they all turned around only to find a tall blonde woman dressed in a red kimono. She smiled widely, before moving in front of them and bowing.

"We did not expect to be visited by the mighty Kazekage today", she said, looking directly at Gaara, "We are delighted to have you, My Lord."

The redhead remained expressionless but nodded his head at her words. Truth to be told, he did not want to be seen in a tent full with "exotic dancers", but at this point, when almost the whole space was full with people, he would draw more attention by standing up and exiting, than just sitting quietly on his chair.

"Thank you", he politely said, throwing a quick glare to Kankuro, " We are excited to see the show you have prepared for tonight."

"How long is this show?", Temari asked impatiently, looking and noting that the audience was predominantly drunk males, "And where is it going to take place? I don't see any stage around here."

The woman laughed, tilting her head to the side.

"The show can be as long as you want it to be. You can stay only for one dance, or you can enjoy a full night full of music and dances. And there is no stage. The dancers are going to create their art right here, in the public. We prefer to create an atmosphere which is more...", she paused, moving her eyes back to Gaara.

"...intimate."

The Kazekage tilted his head, crossing his hands in front of his chest. Something about this woman was making him feel uneasy. They had chatted with her for a few minutes now and he had more questions, rather than answers about what to expect.

The loud sound of rhythmic drums suddenly rang around the space and the crowd, which was enthusiastically chattering, silenced itself. The lights became slightly more dim and everyone's attention shifted towards the middle of the space, where a lonely petite figure raised itself from the ground, scanning the unfamiliar faces all around.

Dark eyes moved from across the room till they stopped on his pale ones. And suddenly, the whole world stopped... the music, the applause, the unamused murmur of his sister beside him. All he could see was the piercing gaze that bore into him, unmoving and not even blinking. It was almost as if was putting him into a hypnosis and he involuntarily leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table before him while he followed each move of their body.

From bold dark make-up to a body covered with gold jewellery, gemstones, and pearls, they were moving under the seducing rhythms with such ease and grace, Gaara could have sworn they were floating off the ground. Their hips swayed from side to side, while their body was twisting and turning, pearl beads clicking against their gemstone covered suit with every move they made.

Gaara has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Expertly moving between the tables, without losing even a beat of their rhythm, the dancer moved in front of the Kazekage's table with their back facing the siblings, before they bent backward, their dark gaze locking with Gaara's mesmerized stare once again. Without breaking eye contact, they sharply turned around and jumped on the table, their head tilting as if silently inviting the redhead ninja to say something.

Unable to resist this silent request, he leaned forward even more, raising his voice a little so the dancer could hear them:

"Who are you?"

They only smirked, swiftly moving once again in such a gracious way, that before the Kazekage could realise, they were behind him, their warm breath next to his ear.

"I can be anyone you want me to be..."

They stepped away, briefly focusing their attention on other members of the crowd, who just like Gaara had already fallen under the ethereal spell of this siren.

After a few minutes and a final loud sound of the drums, the lights went completely off and just like that the dancer was gone. Everyone looked around in confusion, before they stood on their feet, loudly clapping and whistling. Gaara also stood up, but instead of clapping, he quickly started to make his way towards the back entrance of the tent, where he caught a glance of a bare foot covered with pearl anklets exiting the tent. He heard the sound of his siblings yelling his name behind him, but he could not focus on anything other than catching up to the dancer.

It took him just a few seconds to get out of the tent, but once he did and he scanned his surroundings, he couldn't see anyone but drunk ninjas, who were stumbling down the road. No sight of the person he was looking for or of any of the "exotic dancers" for that matter. He made a few steps, peering behind the corner, only to find the alley behind it empty.

His lips immediately pulled themselves into a frown and he shook his head, looking up at the sky. What was wrong with him? He was never one to act impulsively or without thinking... but then what was he doing out here? He didn't even know this person. For all he knew, they could actually be an assassin, trying to trick them.

Gaara has just turned around, when he heard a voice behind them.

"I did not take you for one to give up so easily", a melodic laugh followed the words and he quickly turned around to find the dancer he was looking for sitting on top of one of the empty performers' carriages. They smiled, swiftly jumping down and making a few slow steps towards him.

"I assume you were searching for something... or someone", they laughed, raising their eyebrows slightly. Gaara's cheeks warmed at their words and he opened his mouth, before closing it again and gulping loudly.

Why was he feeling so nervous?

"No, I... I mean, yes. I was looking for you", he admitted, nervously moving his hand behind his head and scratching his neck, "I... wanted to tell you that your performance was truly beautiful."

This time it was the dancer's turn to smile and blush. They looked down, their right feet making small figures in the sand beneath. After a few seconds of silence, they lifted their eyes again, boring into his.

"Thank you. I am flattered that the Kazekage himself enjoyed my performance."

The redheaded male gulped again, his thoughts racing with ideas of what to say next, yet his whole body stayed frozen. If the slight blush on his cheeks and the top of his ears did not give him away, his stoic expression could easily be mistaken for indifference.

"Well", they finally broke the silence, peering behind Gaara's shoulder to see if the other dancers had finished their performance yet, "I better go. I have one more performance to do before we have to pack."

Gaara's heart leaped at their words. He nodded his head, gesturing with his hand towards the entrance.

"Apologies! I did not want to keep you, I just...", he stopped himself, unsure how to finish that sentence, "I am excited to see you dance again."

The dancer looked at him, biting their lip before giving him a small smile.

"Actually, the performance is going to be... private."

"Private?", he asked too quickly and with a voice too high pitched. He closed his eyes, mentally cursing at his reaction, before clearing his throat, "What does it mean... private?"

They let out a small laugh at the Kazekage's awkwardness, but quickly regained back composure, before tilting their head toward the well-lit noisy house at the end of the street.

"As performers, we are often hired by people for their own celebrations. The family that lives in that house over there just got their two sons back from war... so they wanted to organise something special."

Gaara listened carefully, the sound of their words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. The idea of them giving a show to other people, where he had no chance to join and watch them, did not sit right with him. Who was that selfish to keep such beauty and grace to themselves, barring everyone else from seeing it?

The dancer gave him a small bow and a polite "goodbye", before swiftly turning away. They made just a few steps, when the Kazekage's voice stopped them.

"Wait."

They turned around, a curious smile playing on their lips.

"Yes, Lord Kazekage?"

"You can call me Gaara", the redhead said, closing the distance between them. His eyes shifted between their dark eyes and the house where they were supposed to go. Knowing he had little time, he had to choose his next questions carefully.

"What is your name?", he asked, his feet stopping right before them. The performer smiled at their question, battling their eyelashes and clasping their hands behind their back.

"Why do you want to know?", they arched a beautifully painted eyebrow, "With respect, Lord Kazekage, it is not my style to give my name to members of the crowd... even if they are the village leaders."

It was Gaara's turn to look at them questionably.

"How do one book you for a private performance if they do not know your name?"

Their gaze fell to the floor and for a second time, their cheeks turned a rosy colour. It was barely visible in the darkness of the night and under their stage makeup, but Gaara saw it as bright as day. He bit his lip, fighting the urge to let out a smile. His efforts quickly became pointless once they looked up at him again and he couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"Speak to Izumi, the woman who was annoying your table earlier", they laughed, before turning away and starting to walk away. They did not get too far, however, before they turned to look at him again.

"They call me Pearl", they shouted, before lifting their hand and gently shaking the pearly threads hanging from their sleeve. With a final smile, they continued walking, soon getting lost into the darkness.

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

It did not take long for Gaara to find a reason to call the dancer for a private show.

Just two weeks after the village festival, it was one of the Councillor's birthday. Unlike his usual self, Gaara insisted on throwing a grand celebration. And just like the "selfish people who kept beauty and grace to themselves", he hired a private performer for the occasion, which just so happened to be Pearl.

A few months after that, there was a visit from Naruto and a few other Leaf ninjas to the village. Another reason for a feast to be thrown, as well as another reason for Pearl to be there.

Then it was Kankuro's birthday. And as a gift, he hired the same dancer again, this time offering to pay for them to stay for a full weekend.

Thinking back, this was the biggest gift he had ever given his brother and probably the only one he regretted

It would be foolish of him to think that he was the only one who had fallen under the magic of their body and gaze. Deep inside he had already expected that his brother would fall victim to their charm.

What he had not expected, however, was that they would fall too... for Kankuro.

Maybe it started the first night they met. Maybe the whole night they were actually looking at his older sibling, rather than him. Maybe he has mistaken their glances across the room for harmless coincidence, rather than silence promises to meet somewhere private once the moon is up high in the sky. Maybe he had lived in his own fear of rejection for so long, that he accidentally gave Kankuro the chance to snatch the thing he wanted the most right under his nose...

There were a lot of "maybes" racing through his head as his blue eyes stared at the object of his deepest desires and his brother embracing each other under the pale light of the moon, their lips locked in a passionate kiss, while their hands explored each other's skin.

Gaara's fingers involuntarily snapped the flower he was holding in his hand, resulting in one of the thorns on the stem piercing his skin. Scarlet drops of blood started to drip on his pale skin, forcing him finally to look away.

People always said love was supposed to feel beautiful. That it gave you wings and made you see the world in a different light...

But where was that beauty? How was he supposed to see the world, when it seemed it was all fading in darkness?

Throwing the flower to the ground, the Kazekage turned away and hurried back towards his home. Not daring to look back, he thought of the night he met them for the first time.

The night when it was just him and them.

[lxnlxnranch]

Regarding your Triforce!Reader post, I've had brain worms about a very similar concept. Except the reader has the Triforce of Balance, with a slight bit of each of the other Triforces type of influence.

For example, they're stronger than they should be because of Power, but still weaker than the holder of Power. Able to hear the words of the sword/goddess and have visions, but unable to seal like Wisdom. And the unending drive to help others, no matter the cost, from Courage.

They traveled with every Link, helping to temper the more...impulsive side they all have. However, due to Demise's curse after their first journey, they start having issues. Moments where Demise's rage sneak into their mind.

The three golden goddesses (or Hylia, I haven't decided yet) offer Reader a choice. They can give up their role entirely (and not be reincarnated), or they can continue their role in each cycle only to be immediately transported through time to the next one. Reader, knowing the second choice would cause Sky and Sun great pain, asks that every time they move forward, they be forgotten by everyone they leave behind.

The deal is made, and Reader gets to take one more day with those they care for. Knowing they'll be forgotten, Reader spends the entire day with Sky and Sun.

Now, when the Chain forms, the limits of Reader's deal are tested. After all, they never left Wild behind, so he remembers them, but the others only have a vague sense of familiarity. Over time, their memories return, and everyone gets to be happy for the rest of the journey.

The end? Well, I think I'll just have to be convinced to write this as a series first. >=D

(Sorry for the wall of text, I just had to infodump about this idea I've had for YEARS that only got more complex with LU in the mix)

OH MY GOODNESS no I absolute adore this! The Triforce of Balance makes so much sense, I love it! I would read the absolute crap out of your mini series I'm gonna be so real. There's just something about giving it your all, loving so fiercely, only to be condemned to be lonely almost perpetually. It just hits my angst heart so well 🫶🏽

I might write something with Triforce!Reader soon, but I have some other asks I need to get to first. Genuinely thanks so much for sharing, I love this sm <3

[tameodesza]

Bittersweet

₊˚⊹♡ Prince!Shawn Michaels x Commoner!Bret Hart ♡⊹˚₊

masterlist | AO3 link

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Summary: Prince Shawn informs his parents of his decision to marry Bret, but when their disapproval threatens to tear the pair apart, a plan is concocted to unite the lovers once again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a/n: promise I’m working on a oneshot where bretshawn gets together, but I couldn’t help but write some angst for this au!

Silver utensils clinked softly against porcelain plates as the royal family finished their dinner. The king and queen spoke in hushed conversations, Shawn barely engaging as he didn’t have much interest in the topic of trade negotiations. His mind was rather occupied with thoughts of Bret, anticipating the discussion he needed to have with his parents that would ultimately seal his fate.

Shawn finished off his glass of wine, gathering courage as he set his fork down onto his plate. He let out a breath, saying plainly, “Mother. Father. You should be happy to know that I’ve made a decision regarding my suitors.”

The king turned to Shawn quizzically, the queen matching his curious expression. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yes. I know it’s quite soon, but I’m confident in my choice. I…I choose Bret.”

Those words seemed to echo throughout the dining hall as the king and queen went eerily quiet. The two glanced at each other with stone-faced expressions before looking back at Shawn.

Shawn furrowed his brows, greatly confused by their reaction. He assumed his parents would have been overjoyed at the news. He was following through with his betrothal, was a step closer to appeasing the royal council, and he’d finally agreed to commit to someone for once in his life for the sake of carrying out his royal duty.

Yet, all he received was the king’s disapproving grunt as he expressed, “We were afraid you’d do so.” Shawn’s blood ran cold, not liking the ominous undertone. “Son, I need to make you aware of something. Following your suitor selection, multiple concerns were raised by the council concerning your suitors. Well, more specifically, the commoner.”

Shawn frowned, “Concerns? I don’t understand. Isn’t this what everyone wanted? For me to find a partner before years end? That’s what I’ve done.”

“Be that as it may, the council has taken issue with the commoner’s social status, and it was discussed that in the event that you made the wrong choice, the betrothal would be null and void.”

Shawn felt as if the rug had been pulled from under him, anger immediately taking the forefront as he fiercely said, “Wrong choice? How could my choice ever be wrong if it’s supposed to be my fucking decision?”

“Hey, watch your tongue,” the queen scolded. “You cannot marry some measly commoner, Shawn. It would bring great shame to the family. That commoner and his family cannot offer anything of value to us. Your father and I are considering what’s best for the monarchy.”

Angry tears pricked at Shawn’s eyes as he exclaimed, “What about what’s best for me?! If you’ve felt this way about him this entire time, why allow him to court me?! Why allow me to fall for him?! Why wait months after suitor selection to tell me I never even had a choice?!”

The king answered boisterously, “Because we never thought you’d actually pick him! No royal in their right mind would do so. But leave it to you to always go against the status quo. Think about it, Shawn. He can’t take care of you. Do you really think he can afford your expensive lifestyle with him living in a shack?”

“He doesn’t live in a shack,” Shawn scoffed, feeling the need to defend Bret’s honor. “Even if so, I would happily live in a shack if it meant I didn’t have to deal with this royal bullshit!”

“How dare you speak ill of the very establishment that’s raised you, you ungrateful petulant child! Do you know how many people would kill to have a life like this?”

“Then let them have it, because a life without Bret isn’t a life worth living.”

That seemed to stun his parents, the queen saying lowly, “Surely, you don’t mean that. You’re too young to understand-”

“Do not speak as if I’m uneducated. I understand that this isn’t right. Father, please. You can’t let them do this! You’re the king. Your decision overrules anything the council decides.”

“Son, l have a duty to fulfill and a reputation to uphold. And quite frankly, your actions have caused much distress to this family for quite some time. I cannot go against the council on this ruling seeing as your previous unruly behavior has already damaged our family’s name.”

Shawn thought that was a bunch of bullshit. Regardless of how strongly the council felt, Vince had the majority vote. If he wanted to, he could have easily shut down the council’s bogus suggestion.

“What if I refuse,” Shawn asked indignantly. “You cannot force me to marry.”

Done with Shawn’s backtalk, Vince venomously spewed, “If you plan to stay in this family, to see your siblings again, to continue having your riches and security, then you shall! Otherwise, your refusal to marry will be seen as a treasonous act and you’ll be exiled from the family. And as long as you are living under this roof and tied to the McMahon name, your opinion on the subject doesn’t matter. Forget about that commoner. You are to marry a suitor of our choosing and that’s final!”

Shawn left the table in a tearful retreat. He was shocked beyond disbelief, feeling completely blindsided by what had taken place. He refused to believe this was reality, but the conviction in his parents’ voice told him otherwise.

He ran towards the palace doors desperately needing to get away. As he approached the foyer, he ran into Sebastian, begging the man, “Take me back, Sebastian. Please. I am begging you. Please take me back to Bret.”

Sebastian was alarmed by Shawn’s desperate plea. He hadn’t been near the dining room during the argument, but he heard bits and pieces of it as the angry voices carried down the palace halls. He was just as appalled as the prince in the king and queen’s actions. But even with his sympathy, he had his own duties to uphold.

“My Lord, it is after hours. I am not permitted to-”

“If you will not take me, I shall find a way myself!”

Sebastian stood perplexed as the prince looked at him with a determined gaze. It would be a breach of policy to allow Shawn out of the palace past curfew, let alone take him to the home of the man he’d just been forbidden from seeing.

However, Sebastian also cared about Shawn’s wellbeing, and knew the blond would likely get lost if he attempted to head to Beauville alone. That and the danger Shawn would be putting himself in by wandering aimlessly throughout the night was enough for Sebastian to reluctantly agree.

-

Bret’s slumber was abruptly interrupted as he felt a hand tapping frantically on his shoulder, Owen’s voice following, “Bret. Bret, wake up!”

“What is it,” Bret groaned.

“It’s the prince. He’s outside.”

Bret was up before Owen could even finish his sentence, throwing on a pair of shoes before hastily making his way to the front door. He opened it to reveal a teary-eyed Shawn, the blond looking as beautiful as he remembered even under his duress.

Upon seeing Bret, Shawn immediately threw himself into the man, his tears unleashing as soon as he felt Bret’s comforting arms wrap around him.

“Shawn. What’s the matter,” Bret worriedly whispered into Shawn’s ear only to receive another sob from the blond.

Bret’s heart clenched tightly at hearing the prince’s cries of sorrow. He had no idea why Shawn was so upset, but knew it had to be serious for the young man to travel all this way.

Bret shushed the blond, lightly caressing the back of his head as he said gently, “I’m here, Shawn. I’m here. Please try to breathe for me, ok?”

As Shawn tried to control his breathing, Bret’s attention was drawn to the crowd that had formed consisting of his nosy siblings and concerned parents. He waved them off, but they refused to leave. Bret then shifted himself and Shawn outside and closed the door behind them for privacy.

After realizing they were outside, Shawn tightened his arms around Bret, not wanting to be separated from the man.

“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Bret whispered, lightly running a hand across Shawn’s back. Over Shawn’s shoulder, Bret spotted Sebastian standing nervously by the carriage, glancing ever so often down the road as if anxiously awaiting someone’s arrival.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Needing answers, Bret pulled away slightly to rest his hands on Shawn’s cheeks, wiping away at the streaks, asking delicately, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The question only seemed to make Shawn cry more as he blubbered out unintelligible sentences. Bret was eventually able to make out the words, “I told my parents that I want to be with you.”

Bret’s heart leapt at the confession. Shawn wanted to be with him. He told the king and queen. It’s official. But as happy as Bret wanted to be, he couldn’t wrap his head around Shawn’s reaction.

Bret smiled softly, wiping away at Shawn’s eyes as he expressed, “That’s wonderful, Shawn. You have no idea how ecstatic I am to know you want this just as much as I do. But I don’t understand. Why are you crying?”

Shawn lowered his head to Bret’s chest, mumbling, “They won’t allow it. The marriage cannot take place without their blessing.”

Bret stiffened at the revelation, feeling as if a joke were being pulled on him. He gently lifted Shawn’s head from his chest, asking, “Why?” The blond averted his eyes, causing Bret to plead, “Shawn, please tell me why. Did I do something wrong? Is there a way I can fix it? There must be something I can do-”

“You can’t,” Shawn whispered, stepping away from the man hanging his head in shame. “It’s because you’re a commoner that they will not carry on with the betrothal. I’m so sorry, Bret.”

Bret didn’t know how to feel. There were so many emotions rushing through him at once – confusion, anger, embarrassment, betrayal, heartbreak, love for a man he couldn’t have. All because of what? His social status? A class he was born into, just as the prince was born into his?

It was then that Bret understood Shawn’s contempt for the monarchy, the older man growing resentful himself. His love for Shawn only grew as he realized that the blond hadn’t let his family’s prejudice against commoners cloud his ability to fall for one.

Bret let out a sigh, running a frustrated hand across his face before pulling Shawn back into his arms. Shawn seemed surprised by this, assuming that Bret wouldn’t want anything to do with him after the revelation. But he melted into the warm embrace, wrapping his arms around Bret’s neck to hold him closer. They stayed like that for some time, words unable to express their anguish.

Sebastian was conflicted as he watched, for once in his life questioning the decisions of the monarchy. He’d been with Shawn on every outing with each of his suitors, and although it was his duty to remain impartial, he couldn’t ignore the chemistry he witnessed with Shawn and Bret. Sebastian was actually put at ease knowing that someone with such a humble background had captured the prince’s eye. Unfortunately, the monarchy hadn’t felt the same way.

Bret eventually broke the silence when he asked, “What now? What do you want to do?”

“I wish to be with you. Only you,” Shawn whispered into Bret’s neck.

Bret smiled into Shawn’s hair whispering back, “I wish to be with you, too.” A smile also made its way onto Shawn’s lips, but was short-lived when Bret said, “But you must go back.”

Shawn’s head sprung up from Bret with knitted eyebrows, saying, “What? No-”

“I don’t want to make you choose between me and your family.”

“They’re the ones making me choose, not you,” Shawn shouted, no longer able to contain his anger. “You mean so much to me, Bret. What am I supposed to do without you after you’ve claimed my heart?”

Bret felt his throat tighten, clearing it in his best effort not to cry. “But they’re your family, Shawn-”

“I don’t care! That’s how much you mean to me. That’s how much I want to be with you. Do you not feel the same?”

“I do, Shawn,” Bret said softly, shushing Shawn as he pulled him back to his chest. “I do. Please don’t doubt it.”

“It’s not fair,” Shawn sobbed.

“I know it’s not. It’s just…this is so damn hard. I wish I knew what to do to make this right.”

Noting how late it was getting, Sebastian slowly approached the lovers, saying reluctantly, “My Lord, I must inform you that you are expected to return to the palace tonight. It is without a doubt that a search has been issued-”

“No,” Shawn said over his shoulder, refusing to separate from Bret. “I’m not leaving him, so you may as well head back to the palace without me.”

“I- you know I can’t do that, young prince.”

There wasn’t much room left for arguing as the trio heard the rapidly approaching sound of hooves galloping against the dirt road. Knowing who it could be, Shawn pulled Bret into a short kiss, pouring every emotion into it, unknowing if he’d ever have the opportunity again.

“I love you,” he whispered against Bret’s lips, the older man’s eyes watering at the confession as he returned the same phrase.

Just then, multiple white and gold carriages pulled up the house, the largest being the center carriage that housed Shawn’s parents. Several guards exited the other carriages as a coachman opened the door for the king and queen.

Queen Linda was first to step out followed by King Vince, both tooting up their noses in disgust as they took in their surroundings. A desolate neighborhood, dirt roads, tiny homes. This is what their son was drawn to? Ridiculous.

Unbeknownst to them, Bret’s family was watching anxiously from the inside, trying their best not to be seen as they crowded by an open window.

“We’ve got to go out there,” Owen said as he tried to walk to the door, but was pulled back by his dad, Stu.

“Let them handle it,” said the elder man. “If it looks like Bret needs our help, then we’ll head out.”

Owen relented, sitting next to his brother, Bruce, who was just as antsy.

Linda remained standing beside the carriage as Vince slowly approached his son. His eyes immediately went to Bret’s hand that was interlocked with Shawn’s, directing a disapproving glance to his son. He stopped shortly in front of the two, saying, “Ok, Shawn. You’ve made your point known. It’s time to stop playing games and come home.”

“This is not a game, father. If I am not allowed to be with him, then I’m not going anywhere. I love him.”

“Love,” Vince tsked. “That’s outlandish. You barely know the fellow.”

“Yeah, almost as outlandish as marrying a stranger for status,” Shawn smartly replied. “I told you, I’m not coming.”

That seemed to wipe the smugness off the king’s face as he said menacingly, “I wasn’t asking.”

At the flick of his hand, a group of guards rushed towards the lovers, ripping Bret away from Shawn as the blond shouted, “Bret!”

A rush of events took place after that - Bret’s brothers running out of the house in his defense, guards forcefully holding them down as their parents and sisters watched angrily from the doorstep, Shawn breaking away in an effort to get to Bret only to be withheld by Sebastian.

The commotion ceased as Vince’s voice boomed, “If you do not come willingly, these people will be arrested for resisting authority and disobeying royal orders! Is that what you want, Shawn?!”

Shawn struggled to get out of Sebastian’s hold, shouting, “No, you can’t do that! They have nothing to do with this!”

“I can and I will. It’s up to you how this goes.”

Shawn’s eyes frantically darted across the yard, taking in the sight of Bret’s brothers kneeling on the ground under the guards’ force. Then his eyes landed on Bret’s who, even under the painful grasp of a guard, kept his face neutral in an effort to calm Shawn.

Shawn helplessly looked to his mother, saying with a crack in his voice, “Mom?”

The queen was seemingly affected by her son’s plea, but after taking a breath, she said flatly, “Listen to your father. Do not make this any harder than this has to be.”

Shawn lips trembled, feeling an ultimate sense of betrayal. Although his relationship had been rocky with both of his parents, he got along better with his mother. If there were one person he thought could fix this, it would be her. But seeing that she took Vince’s side, Shawn felt hopeless.

The blond’s shattered expression hit Bret hard with emotion. Against his better judgment, he spoke, “It’s ok, Shawn,” which earned him a hard knee to the gut.

Shawn lurched forward but was held back as he watched Bret grunt in pain struggling to catch his breath. “Shawn,” Bret said in a strained voice.

The guard then unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Bret’s neck which caused Shawn to say in a panic, “Ok! I-I’ll go! Just…please don’t hurt him.”

Owen gasped, “No, Prince,” but he was met with the same fate, getting a knee to his side.

“Stop hurting them! I said I’ll go,” Shawn said in distress. Before being led away, he said to Bret, “I’ll never forget you. I’m so sorry this has happened, but never forget that I love you.”

“I love you, too, Shawn,” Bret whispered with a quiver in his voice.

Shawn was led to his parents’ carriage, the blond shrugging off Sebastian’s grasp once he made it to the doors. The king and queen followed behind, the door slamming shut before the curtain on the window was quickly closed.

With the royals out of sight, the guards finally let up on the family before heading to their own carriages. After the loud whinny of a horse, the line of carriages left the home with no intention of ever returning.

Bret sat on his knees a broken man, staring down the dirt path as silent tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt numb as his family crowded around him, tugging and pulling him different directions in concern. With the help of his brothers, he eventually got up and was led inside of the house.

After finding his voice to tell his family he was ok, Bret headed to the stables to get away from everyone. When he was finally alone to his thoughts, Bret cried his eyes out, mourning the loss of a love he only had the privilege to briefly experience.

Shawn found himself in the same position, the blond balled up in the corner of the carriage as endless tears poured from his eyes, not even daring to look at his parents.

The king and queen sat clueless, not knowing what to make of their son. Vince had never been good at comforting his kids, and Linda didn’t know how to fix the situation without giving Shawn what he wanted, an offer that wasn’t on the table.

After another squeak in Shawn’s voice, Linda tried, “You’ll find someone better, I promise. Someone more worthy of the royal-”

“I will never find anyone like him! You’ve ruined everything! I hate you!”

His parents were stunned into silence and nothing else was said for the rest of the ride. After arriving at the palace, Shawn rushed to his room, bypassing the concerned looks of his staff. He cried throughout the night, his sobs not going unheard as Sebastian stood guard outside of his door overtaken with guilt.

-

There was a light knock at Shawn’s bedroom door, followed by Sebastian’s muffled voice, “Your daily news, my Lord.”

Shawn groaned as he rolled his eyes and threw off his heavy comforter, sluggishly making his way out of his bed towards the door. He’d been camped to his room for over a week, refusing to interact with anyone in the palace. His parents initially thought it was a phase. Surely, Shawn was just acting out and would get over it in a couple of days.

But when the days stretched on and Shawn began requesting to have his meals sent to his room, they soon realized Shawn’s tantrum wasn’t as simple as they thought. But that didn’t change the fact that they were still adamant about Shawn finding an appropriate suitor.

Shawn opened his bedroom door and grabbed the paper from Sebastian’s outstretched hand. He unfolded it, lazily glancing it over in disinterest until he froze after catching sight of a bold headline:  

The Search Continues: Prince Shawn Remains on the Quest for Happy Ever After His Majesty, King Vince II, has issued a statement that has shocked the kingdom. His son, Prince Shawn, is still hoping to find Prince Charming. The King states, “Queen Linda and I are very grateful and thankful to the multitude of suitors who expressed interest in our son, Prince Shawn, months ago. But as a result of his courtship, we’re afraid we’ve not yet found a match. We’re announcing that the palace will be hosting another suitor ball, this one not as open as the last. Potential suitors will need to be of royal blood, come from a long line of wealth, and meet various royal standards that the royal council and I deem fit. More details will be released in the following-”

Shawn couldn’t even finish the article, his blood boiling as he pushed past Sebastian to rush towards Vince’s office. The door was heavily guarded, a guard blocking Shawn from entering as he said, “Forgive us, Prince Shawn, but the king-”

“I don’t give a shit what he’s doing. I need to talk to him now.”

As one could assume, the conversation wasn’t productive, it consisting of various obscenities and insults hurled each other’s way.

The screaming match ended when Vince proclaimed, “You’ve embarrassed this family long enough! We’ve accepted your unconventional lifestyle. We’ve swept away your scandals. We’ve even let you relinquish your title. The one thing we ask of you is to marry of the same class! Think of Shane and Stephanie, and how brokenhearted they’d be knowing their older brother chose a mere commoner over his own blood. I’m not going to let your selfishness tear this family apart, so this is happening whether you like it or not!”

-

Bret nearly crumbled after reading the article. He was still in shock at how someone he loved could be ripped away from him so easily. Shocked at how the royals’ privilege allowed them to not only mistreat his family but mistreat their own son as well. He was still haunted by the anguished screams Shawn let out that night, frustrated that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

For a week, Bret shut himself out from the world, remaining in his room except to tend to the horses and crops. His absence was felt in the market as he refused to work, wanting to avoid the villagers’ pitying glances. Word had traveled fast after his family’s encounter with the royals. Many villagers had visited the Harts to express their condolences, wishing the young couple could experience a happy ending.

But there was also a subset of villagers who were jealous of Bret’s opportunity to court the prince, a few even spreading absurd rumors such as Bret attempted to hold the prince hostage. Fortunately, many of the villagers came to Bret’s defense – a true testament of his good character and positive impact he’d made on the community.  

“Hey, man. How you holding up,” Owen asked after entering Bret’s room to find him sitting on the edge of his bed with the news article in hand.

Bret answered blankly, “I can’t believe they’re forcing him to do this. I know this is not what he wanted.”

“What can we do?” Owen was just as affected over the situation as Bret, offended that the royals would cause such a raucous at their home. And over what? Their son falling in love with his brother? It was outrageous and Owen was fully prepared to do whatever it would take to reunite his brother and the prince.

But his bravado diminished as Bret answered glumly, “There’s nothing we can do. We’re not royalty. We don’t come from wealth. And the palace sure as hell isn’t going to welcome me as a suitor again. It’s a lost cause.”

That saddened Owen immensely. His brother was a hardworking man who always put the family and the village first. Because of this, Owen always worried that his brother would be destined to a lonely life. The prince was the one person that gave Owen hope that his brother had found his better half. But life always seemed to be the cruelest to those least deserving.

With the recent news, the last thing Owen wanted was for Bret to be alone. He gave Bret a light pat on the shoulder, saying, “Come one, man. Let’s go to the market. Work should be a good distraction from all of this.”

Except it wasn’t.

Between the villagers staring at him as they walked past his stall to others shamelessly asking him about the prince, Bret soon regretted his decision, wishing he’d listened to his gut and stayed home. He was constantly reminded of Shawn throughout his shift, especially after a patron asked for a bag of strawberries.

Bret searched throughout their stall double-checking their inventory but was confused to find no strawberries in stock. After excusing himself from the customer, he asked his mom, “I can’t seem to find any strawberries. Are we out?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I forgot to tell you, dear. A purchaser from the palace bought everything we had this morning. They even placed an order for a batch of strawberries that are ready for picking in the fields.” Well, it’s not that she forgot to tell him. More so, she wanted to keep anything palace-related from her son, fearing it would only cause Bret more pain.

Bret curled a brow in question. “That’s odd. Why would they order so much?”

“Well, the gentleman didn’t say much. Only that it was requested by someone within the royal family. Any idea who it could be?”

Bret’s heart swelled as he thought of only one man with a strawberry addiction. 

-

Back at the palace, Shawn hadn’t been doing any better.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my Lord, but I don’t think you can survive only off of strawberries.” 

Shawn was in the middle of finishing his third bowl of the day as he sat at his vanity table, opting out of breakfast that morning for the delicious fruit. Normally, he would still be hungry, but his appetite had been lacking ever since being literally ripped away from Bret.

Shawn moped, “If they won’t allow me to be with him, I can at least enjoy his product.” He popped another strawberry into his mouth, relishing at how delicious it was. Yet, he wasn’t able to fully enjoy it as memories of Bret flashed through his mind. 

Sebastian stood by silently, his concern for Shawn only growing in the passing weeks. On multiple occasions, he’d almost crossed the line of professionalism in his worry for the prince. He tried to hint to the king and queen about Shawn’s declining mental state, but he was often ignored as the royals brushed it off as an act for attention.

Their nonchalant approach was unsettling, and it was moments like this one where the prince stared absentmindedly into his bowl that Sebastian knew he had to step in. Royalty or not, everyone reached a breaking point, and Sebastian’s sympathy for the man outweighed his obligations to the monarchy.

Sebastian slowly approached Shawn, pointing to the empty spot on the bench, asking, “May I?”

Shawn looked up, blinking in surprise. His guards usually avoided getting anywhere near him out of formalities, but also out of fear of being accused of doing something indecent with him.

“Sure,” Shawn nodded as he scooted over to make more room for Sebastian. 

After taking a seat on the opposite end of the bench, Sebastian said, “My Lord. I’d first like to apologize for my behavior that night.”

Shawn didn’t need to ask which night Sebastian was referring to. He paused mid-bite into his strawberry, not expecting an apology. After placing the fruit back into the bowl, Shawn said tiredly, “You were just doing your job. I can’t blame you for following my parents’ foolish orders.”

Sebastian bit back the instinctive need to defend the king and queen, insisting, “Even so, my Lord, that night has caused you great pain. And I am ashamed to have ever been part of it. I’ve served your family for nearly 30 years. I’ve watched you grow from a young boy to a young man. In all my years of serving, I’ve never seen you as upset as you were that night. I hope someday you can find it within yourself to forgive me.”

Shawn observed Sebastian, his heart aching for the man as he saw the guilt pooling in his eyes. Shawn didn’t hold a grudge against any of the guards, understanding that they were just following orders. He knew how tyrannical his father could get when he didn’t get his way.

It only made Shawn grow more bitter towards his parents. So much pain had been caused just because of their obsession with appeasing the council rather than their own son.

Shawn gave a gentle smile, saying sincerely, “I accept your apology, Sebastian. No need to allow this to become a burden.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I am relieved to hear that. I also feel that it is my duty to try and right this wrong.”

A look of puzzlement crossed Shawn’s face as he asked, “Hm? What do you mean?”

Sebastian smiled softly as he relayed, “I’ve been with you on every courting, young prince. With Mr. Hart, you two seemed to be better suited for each other. You seemed happier in his presence, so happy that you ran off into the woods with him and left this poor old guard behind.”

Shawn said sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

“It is fine. The point I am getting at is that a love like that, one naturally formed between two strangers, is hard to come by. I’ve seen so many royal pairings live a loveless marriage, one full of dread and sorrow knowing they’re destined to a life with someone out of duty. It is not for the faint-hearted, and I fear you may be destined for the same. You deserve better than that, and I have too much care for you to idly sit by as it happens.”

Shawn felt his eyes watering, touched to know that someone within the confines of the palace actually cared about his feelings. Sebastian’s kind words only reminded Shawn of Bret, of how the older man made him feel seen.

Sebastian handed Shawn a handkerchief, the blond taking in graciously before dabbing his eyes. “Thank you, Sebastian. Not just for the handkerchief,” he chuckled. “But for having my best interest at heart. I’d give anything to see Bret just one more time. I…I miss him dearly.”

“Worry not, my Lord. I have a plan.”

—

A month had passed since that fateful night and Bret attempted to move on. But that was easier said than done, and he was starting to believe that the phrase ‘time heals all wounds’ was a lie.

He sat on a stool next to his stall, his sore feet thankful for the short break. But his break was short-lived as an odd man in discrete clothing approached him, casting a shadow over him as he blocked the sun from Bret’s view.

Bret glanced up to tell the man that they were closed for lunch, but he was shocked to see that it was Sebastian standing before him in a dark, tattered cloak.

“Sebastian?” Bret asked before looking around eagerly hoping to find Shawn in tow.

But he was disappointed when Sebastian whispered, “He’s not here, Mr. Hart. I’m actually here on his behalf. Um, may we please go somewhere private? I would like to avoid being seen.”

“Yes, of course,” Bret said before hastily leading them around the corner to a dark alley. After ensuring no one was around, Bret urgently whispered, “How is he? Is he ok?”

“He’s,” Sebastian stalled, but decided to be transparent. “Honestly, he’s not doing well, sir. Your forceful departure has left him quite shaken. He wishes for me to tell you that he deeply regrets putting you and your family in the position you’re in.”

“He shouldn’t regret anything. None of this is his fault. He and I have been nothing but pawns in the hands of the monarchy, and it’s not fair to either of us. God, if only I could see him one more time. At least to tell him he doesn’t have to harbor any guilt over this. I-” Bret cut himself off in a grunt, deeply frustrated with the situation.

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m here. I’m sure you’re aware of the masquerade ball that is taking place next week at the palace.”

“How could I not be,” Bret muttered. The extravagant event had been the talk of the kingdom, only the most elite suitors being invited to the occasion.

“I hope you’d be pleased to know that my Lord has extended you an invitation.”

Bret was taken aback, unsure if he’d heard the man correctly. “An invitation? Me? At a ball? At the palace?”

“I know it is a risk, but it is something I am fully prepared to help you with if you so choose to attend.”

“I don’t understand. How would I even get in unnoticed, especially with my dingy attire?”

“A valid question, Mr. Hart, but worry not. We’ve got it all planned out. If I can get your measurements today, I can have a tailored suit delivered to you by the end of the week. Since it’s a masquerade ball, you will not be expected to show your face. When arriving at the palace, you shall identify yourself as the Duke of Cardonia, Lord Jericho. He’s a close friend of the prince and has been made aware of this plan. I’ve done all I can up to this point, but it is up to you to take hold of the opportunity.”

Bret felt a bit overwhelmed, Sebastian’s information coming at him a mile a minute. It was a risk, a huge risk, to sneak into the event, and if it didn’t go well, Bret didn’t even want to think of the repercussions. But then he thought of Shawn and how miserable he’d been ever since they were separated from each other, knowing he wouldn’t rest easy if he let this opportunity slip by.

So Bret agreed to the plan, allowing Sebastian to quickly measure him to get the proper dimensions for his suit. As he finished up, Sebastian said, “Oh, before I forget.” He dug around under his cloak before pulling out a sealed envelope stating, “It’s a personal letter from the prince. I’ll leave you to it. Fair well, Mr. Hart.”

Bret held the envelope with shaky hands, heart pounding as he caught a whiff of the light cologne Shawn had spritzed on the paper. It was the same sweet cologne he wore on their courtship, the smell immediately taking Bret back to that day.

He opened the envelope, pulling out a folded piece of paper before opening it to reveal Shawn’s neat handwriting:

To my dearest Bret, Words cannot express how much I cherished our time together and loathe our time apart. Every day without you feels like a cruel punishment from the gods, and I grow resentful every second of my life that you are not in my presence. Though it is a risk, I hope that you’ll accept this invitation to the masquerade ball for I wish to see you once more. I miss you. And I hope to see you soon.  I love you, Shawn

Bret was misty-eyed after reading the short letter, no doubt in his mind that he was going through with the plan.

[the-traveling-poet]

Hi darling! Just found your account and your writing is AMAZING 😭❤️ I wanted to ask a Levi x fem!reader where they are married and the reader is particularly nervous, which she never is, and at some point she lashes out at Levi? Lot of angst and fluff please! (Also if you could maintain the canonverse, no modern au)

Thank you so muchhh ❤️❤️❤️

Miscommunications 

Marriage was something you’d read so often about in your youth. It was a beautiful thing you hoped to one day experience. You longed for the day you find him; Mister Right. Luckily, you’d found him. Corporal Levi Ackerman. But marriage wouldn’t magically solve the way your two’s personalities sometimes clashed. To do that, you’d have to talk.

Pairing: Husband!Levi x SO!Reader

Warnings: Angst-to-fluff, language, marital issues, slightly suggestive comments, SFW, Married!Reader, Cannon-verse, slightly suggestive

Taglist: @21aurora If you want on the tag list for drabbles headcannons and one-shots, just DM me~ Also checkout my wattpad for more~

A/N: Ofc lovely! Thank you so much, that makes my day to hear 🤎 So sorry for the wait, life got in the way! As always, if this doesn’t fit your preference(a) I’ll happily rewrite.

Enjoy~

Married life was something you’d never imagined you could obtain. It had been a dream of yours since childhood; you’d always wanted to walk down the aisle towards the man of your dreams dressed in all white; just like in all the stories you’d grown up reading about.

But years later, while in the Survey Corps, you knew this simply just wasn’t possible.

Not only was death knocking on everyone’s door the moment the gates opened for their expeditions, but…there weren’t a lot of suitors.

You might not have been picky but…damn.

So after some time, you’d given up looking for or seeking out any kind of romantic relationship while the Corps were still around to defend the people of Paradis.

That is, until the day you happened to meet Levi.

What had first started out as forced comradeship on the battle field, soon turned to a mutual respect for one another as you worked side by side over the many weeks spent out in titan territory together. And from there, your connection to him blossomed into one of friendship, which eventually led to a not-so-secret crush on your end. Little did you know them, he had begun to recognize he felt the same way about you that you did about him. It took some time, but after awhile he finally accepted he couldn’t avoid his emotions any longer.

By the time he had gathered the courage to finally ask you out, you’d both been enlisted for over a year. But you couldn’t have been happier when he stuttered out the question to you.

“W-would you kind maybe…Grabbing some tea after this? Maybe…T-together?”

Your love had been a whirlwind of emotions; good moments and bad sprinkled in between every milestone you passed with him at your side. But ups and downs were to be expected in new relationships, you knew.

From the first time you held hands, to the first “I love you”s, to the first time his bedroom door locked behind you as he led you towards his bed. You’d been over the moon with joy though it all.

Despite all the love you had for him, there were days you questioned wether he fully trusted you or not. He was always so silent, so reserved. He’d opened up to you a great deal, but you knew there were still some things left unsaid on his part. While you respected his wishes to not speak his mind at all times as you did, it still left a corner of doubt in your mind some days.

Until the fateful day he dropped down onto one knee in front of you a year into your relationship, you’d begun to wonder if he even felt as strongly for you as you did him.

Immediately, all your worries melted away the moment you walked up that isle towards the alter, taking his hands in yours as a ring was slipped onto your finger.

Well, almost all worries.

There were times throughout your married life where you felt he was keeping things from you. Not an affair, you knew. You trusted him with everything you were, he would never do something so heinous.

What worries you, was how differently your emotions sometimes clashed. Where he was always so calm and poised, keeping his emotions to himself, you were always rather high strung and vocal about what you felt when you felt it. So undeniably, this caused some discomfort for your peace of mind.

As of late, you felt as though he constantly underestimated you. To keep you safe, perhaps, but didn’t he know by now you could handle yourself?

One evening, you’d finally mustered up the mental strength to address this to him. He, of course, wanted you safe at all times. He loved you, he couldn’t bear to lose you. But you knew you hadn’t become a Captain by sheer luck. You knew what you were doing, and damnit if anyone thought you couldn’t do your job. But you were nervous. Nervous that maybe…Maybe, he was right?

“Levi,” you’d called out behind his office door, before swinging it open without invitation.

He looked exhausted, sitting behind his desk with a hand in his hair and a quill gripped tightly between his fingers.

“Y/N,” he greeted you absentmindedly, still focused on the document before him.

“Is this a bad time? Or…Can we talk for a moment?” You asked, keeping your voice and tone soft.

“Of course, I have time. Always do for you,” he sighed, but you noticed it was out of slight relief at being distracted from the work that laid before him. “What?”

Finding yourself softly smiling at his attention aimed your way, you shook your head to focus.

“I just wanted to ask…Do you trust me?”

He stared up at you for a long moment, his face unreadable.

“Are the MP’s shitty lackies? Of course I trust you,” he scoffed, attempting to overlook his off the wall joke in hopes of lightening your obviously nervous mood.

“Well, yeah, but…” You sighed. “You tend to shove those expedition folders away whenever I walk into the room. You don’t tell me everything that happens behind the closed doors of a meeting. I get you may not wanna worry me. And just…protect me…But we both know I’m capable. We both know I can handle things. I’m not a Captain for nothing.” You finally managed to scoff out.

Levi sighed, rubbing a hand down his brow.

“Can you? I know your strength outside the walls. But what if your emotional strength? If I told you about every happening within the walls I’ve been informed of, you might just shit yourself with worry.”

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m the wife of humanity’s strongest soldier. If I can handle you, I can handle anything.”

“Oh please, you cried alongside Hange when those damn titan experiments got killed. If you can’t even handle that, what makes you think you could handle the truths of how this world is run? Let me deal with that. You just focus on leading your squad and coming back alive from every expedition.”

His words sent a familiar spark of doubt through you. You knew you could handle yourself, but if Levi doubted you could…We’re you really as good as you thought you might be? Was your rank as Captain falsely given?

The anxiety of intrusive thoughts started to eat you alive, and before you knew it you were shaking in your boots with both fear and sudden anger.

As anxiety bubbled up in your gut, it started to cloud your mind as well as your eyes as they glossed over with unshed tears.

“I see,” you managed to blurt out. “Am I really just something fun for you to come back to after meetings and expeditions? Am I not qualified for the title you gave me as Captain? If my husband doesn’t even trust my emotional state, what use even am I?”

“Y/N, darling, you know that’s not what I meant-“ Levi started, sudden alarm in his eyes.

“No, Levi. You always speak your mind. Why wouldn’t you with me, your wife? Of course you’d give it to me straight.” You laughed humorlessly.

“If I’m really so worthless to my fucking job, why didn’t you just say so? Why did you promote me? Why did you marry me? Someone so incompetent…Yes I’m fucking worried! I’m worried about this next expedition. I don’t feel my squad is ready. I don’t feel I’m ready. But yknow what, fine.”

You turned in your heel, scared to have Levi see the tears you’d been holding in finally spilling free. Your heart beat frantically in your chest, and your shoulders ached as the anxiety finally won over.

It had been years since you’d had an anxiety attack, but this had been the straw to finally break the camel’s back.

“Y/N, wait-“ Levi tried to call out, but you were already halfway through the door.

“I need some air,” you muttered before hastily closing his office door behind you and making your way down the cobblestone halls.

═════════════════

By the time you sat alone on the roof of HQ, you’d begun to calm down. Physically, at least.

Deep down, you knew your husband meant well. And while you never liked to admit it, sometimes you needed reassurance. And his brash tone didn’t always do it for you.

But your respected it, nonetheless. Just as he respected you.

Even while knowing this, you sniffled and wiped at your runny nose. Maybe you were over thinking the whole thing…Or maybe you weren’t. What we’re you too believe? Love was complicated. It always had been.

The squeaking of door hinges broke through your thoughts. Wiping at your eye, you glanced over your shoulder and froze.

Levi strode towards your on the roof, his shoulders slumping in relief at finding you.

“Y/N, darling. You worried me,” he whispered as he made his way over to you and took a seat on the stone roof.

You both stayed silent for a moment, before it was too much for you to bear.

“Look, I’m sorry for taking my worries out on you.”

“No. Stop.” He shushed you softly. “I could have worded what I meant better…”

“No! No, it’s fine…I shouldn’t be so soft,” you cut him off with a sigh.

“Damnit woman, you’re so impatient.” Levi chuckled softly, putting an arm around your shoulders and holding you closer to him.

“Just listen for a moment? Yeah?” He whispered against your ear, causing you to shudder slightly at the familiar intimate action, but you nodded in understanding as you decided to keep quiet.

“Thank you,” he whispered before he continued. “Look, I know I’m not the best with words, darling. I try for you, I really do. But I suppose I could do better. You have my heart. Every piece of it. You occupy every thought in my mind, every day.” He rushed out, yet kept his soft and even tone.

“I love you. And I trust you. I always have, and I always will. I don’t keep things from you due to lack of faith. I just…” He paused with a deep sigh.

“I love you,” he repeated softly. “If I could bring you total peace and comfort, I would without a second thought. So with the circumstances we’re in, I try to do just that. I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I just want your life to be as stress free as possible, despite our fucking jobs. And if that means leaving information out while explaining plans to you, then so be it. But…I can see how it’s stressing you out, too.”

You listened on in amazed silence, finally seeing his side of things. Taking your sudden muteness as a sign to continue, he went on.

“I love you. That’s why I married you. I don’t want you to be as stressed as I am. I want to keep you away from those burdens. To protect you, yes. But…You’re all I have left. I want to keep that peace reserved. For the both of us. And I’m sorry I came across so…Brash? Harsh? Disinterested? Just please…Know that I love you, and I meant no ill will.”

He finished his long winded speech with a deep inhale and exhale, then remained silent. You’d never heard him speak that much in one sitting before, despite all your time together.

It touched you, deeply, inside your heart. How he was willing to do something like this for you; opening up and showing you all that he thought about. All he kept locked away in his mind and heart.

You felt yourself tearing up again, but this time out of relief and joy. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you put your arms around him as best you could in this position.

“Again, I’m sorry I blew up. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, even if i misunderstood your intentions. I love you too, more than anything. And I want that peace, too. I want it more than anything…But I want to be included by you. To be with you. No matter how hard it may be right now, or however hard it may get in the future; I just want to be with you through it all. To have you lean on me like I lean on you.”

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, resting his head atop yours. “I should have thought of it like that, and respected how differently we handle things. Mentally, and emotionally.”

He lifted his head off yours, and tilted your chin up with his hand to meet his sincere gaze.

“Tell you what; I’ll tell you everything I’m informed, if you promise to not doubt yourself so much.”

“Doubt myself?” you asked with a sniffle.

“Yes, you doubt yourself. I heard it today, just as you did. And I’ve seen it, before now. You’re not worthless, and you’re not weak. We both know I married one hell of a courageous and capable woman,” he winked playfully at you, causing you to giggle despite your raging emotions.

“So I’m not just something fun for you to return home to?” you teased him back.

“Well, you’re one hell of a temptress. And your damn good to me in bed. But no. I love you for you. For how strong you are. How resilient you are. How you can speak your mind so easily…I envy that, yknow? I love you, my darling Y/N.” He sighed, giving you a half smile as he tilted his face down to yours.

Catching the look in his eye, you allowed yourself to fully relax in his arms and lean into him, parting your lips slightly to capture his in a loving embrace.

He hummed softly in relieved pleasure against your lips, tilting his face down to deepen your passionate kiss. By the time you both needed to part for air, he had a rare smirk on his face.

“You’re one hell of a woman, you know that? Why would I ever distrust you? How could you think such a thing with such a beautiful ring on your finger?”

“Oh shut it, shorty,” you chuckled, shoving his shoulder playfully.

And just like that, every anxiety you might have had about the upcoming expedition, and about yourself as a person, vanished the moment his lips founds your again for a heated kiss on the roof of HQ.

Your evening might have started with anxiety, but it was sure to end in a reassuring passion only known by the two of you.

[moonyswritinq]

dreaming — eddie munson x male reader oneshot

❝ DREAMING ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ When a night of drinking, weed, and truth or dare challenge the boundaries of friendships you appear to reveal more truths than you first bargained for. Maybe it's for the better, though — especially when the truth is related to the infamous Eddie Munson.

PAIRING ➢ eddie munson x male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ a lot of sexual tension, fluff, angst if you squint, drinking, mentions of alcohol & weed, giggling & horny young adults, flirty banter, occasional insults, very inappropriate topics (regarding sex, kinks and preferences), mentions of dom & sub dynamic, mentions of sadism & masochism, everyone's gay, kissing, explicit language, cringey writing

WORD COUNT ➢ 3.9 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ of course i've been caught by the eddie munson obsession and i think we can all agree we need more male reader fics, so here i am. i was inspired by this tiktok for this oneshot, but it's all about the vibes so don't worry about it. plot?? don't know him. timeline?? don't know that either (sometime in season four?), but everyone’s happy and alive. don’t worry about it. take it with a pinch of salt. everyone’s okay with everyone’s sexualities, no big deal. i don’t care that it’s the eighties. no excuses for homophobia happening on my watch. enjoy &lt;3

MASTERLIST

The fire was crackling loudly, lighting a circle around it in protection of the dark night. Every person’s face that sat on the logs around the fire was lit, each with a grin spread across it or laughter on the lips. It was a warm night, one filled with happiness and the carelessness of youth. You, Robin, Vickie, Nancy, Steve, Jonathan and Eddie had decided to have a night in the woods, just enjoying each other’s company. Somehow, the little kids had heard of it as well and had fought to come with — much to Nancy and Jonathan’s dismay. You would all be drinking — maybe even get a bit high — and they didn’t want the kids anywhere near that.

Luckily, the adults had prevailed and you had managed to keep the children away from your little trip. It was only for the adults, as Steve so elegantly put it. So the real fun could begin.

So here you all were, sat beside on another and talking merrily. Eddie was sat on the opposite side of the fire from you,  attention on something Steve was telling him while fiddling absentmindedly with the ends of his hair. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him during the night. The way the fire lit up his features while the sky darkened made him look out of this world.

Your relationship existed of one with friendly jabs at one another, play fighting and, sometimes, flirting disguised as insults. It was a constant battle between the two of you on who could win your verbal competitions or fluster the other more. You refused to acknowledge that any feelings were involved — both to yourself or anyone else — but it was getting more and more difficult pretending like you weren’t actively seeking out his company.

You took another swig of your beer, feeling the familiar warmth that came with it. The lot of you were a bit tipsy, feeling particularly humourous. You were all in the mood for something fun to do. And that is how you ended up playing truth or dare. A basic game, sure, but a great one under the right circumstances. 

“Steve, truth or dare?” Jonathan asked.

“Truth.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be a bore!” Robin exclaimed. She might be a bit more tipsy than the rest of you. You had noticed her drinking a bit more on the way here than usual and you could only assume it was to build up her courage to spend the night with her crush, Vickie.

“Fine, Byers. Dare.”

He pretended to think for a few seconds before a smirk formed on his lips. “I dare you to make everyone here laugh as quickly as possible.”

Steve huffed. “I thought you’d make it a challenge, come on! Everyone knows I’m the funniest here!”

You chuckled at Robin’s exclaimed denial, Nancy and Eddie agreeing with her. Somehow though, Steve managed to embarrass himself enough for all of you to be laughing your arses off. Reluctant to admit it, that was a point to Steve. You must all have had a bit too much to drink.

“Nance, truth or dare?” you smiled. 

“Truth.”

“What are your kinks?” you asked. Her eyes widened, gaze jumping to Jonathan. 

“Er— I,” she stuttered, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. “I suppose I like being dominant?”

Eddie laughed, clapping his hands together. “Who would’ve guessed!?” His gaze jumped between Steve and Jonathan. “And I’m guessing one of these two likes to be sub, then.” The both of them began to flush, muttering some sort of explanations. It all fell on deaf ears. 

“Knew it, by the way,” you smiled, meeting Eddie’s skeptical gaze.

“You did not.”

You took another swig, shaking your head. “Whatever, at least I know your kinks.” Robin and Steve exclaimed simultaneously, shooting you skeptical looks. 

“How do you know Eddie’s kinks?” Robin shouted, chuckling with disbelief.

Steve wiggled his eyebrows, looking between the two of you. “I think you know exactly how.”

Eddie spluttered, waving his hand. “No, no— y/n and I have never hooked up, so don’t you all go getting any ideas now!” He shook his head vigorously, looking at his drink before meeting your eye with a raised eyebrow. 

“How do you know though?” Vickie asked.

You nodded at his jeans. “Your handkerchief. If I’m not incorrect it stands for sadism and masochism.” Your grin grew with Eddie’s. A round of exclamations and whoops went around the fire, everyone turning their gaze to Eddie. “Would I be incorrect?”

He chuckled. “You are not, y/n.”

“Pain, huh?” Jonathan asked.

“So you know what it is.” Eddie grinned, standing up and spreading his arms. “Yes, pain.” His eyes were pinned on you, his pupils blown wide. “With the right amount, right kind and enough of time — it’s its own kind of high. Pure bliss.”

Steve nodded at Eddie, being sat down again, “I believe you, man.”

“Alright,” Vickie brought her hands together, bringing the group’s attention to her. “Steve, what turns you on?”

“What, not even going to ask me truth or dare?” he questioned, slurring slightly.

She shook her head. “Nope, I needed to ask the question.”

“It only takes a girl looking in his direction for him to get turned on,” Robin laughed, the rest of you joining in. Steve tried to hide his blushing cheeks behind his hands. 

“I don’t know, man,” he slurred. “Someone funny, I think? Oh, and tattoos!” 

“Like Nancy,” Robin said.

You nodded along, wiggling your eyebrows, “Or Jonathan.” 

Jonathan shook his head. “I’m not, in any way, funny.”

“I bet you could still turn me on though.” 

That led to more laughter and shouts. Man, the alcohol was really kicking in nicely now. Robin’s gaze turned to you, mischievousness in her eyes. 

“I know what turns y/n on.” 

You feigned betrayal, clutching your hands to your heart. “I thought it was Steve’s truth!”

She grinned at you, “Oh, it was. But now I dare you to tell us yours.”

You rolled your eyes half-heartedly, downing the rest of your drink. “Fine,” you bit out, flipping her the bird. “I like guitarists. Well— musicians in general, but especially guitarists.” A few oohs made their way around the group. Your eyes jumped to Eddie, only to find him already staring intently at you, a slight grin on his lips. You grinned back, ignoring the way your cheeks began to burn. 

“How does that turn you on, though?” Jonathan questioned, taking a swig from his drink.

“It’s the hands, my dear Jonathan.” You stood up and gestured with your hands, showing him how they flexed when they clenched and unclenched. “The veins, the muscles. So easy to imagine what they can do to you. To your body.”

“God, you’re going to turn me on now,” Robin chuckled.

You spun around to face her with a grin. “That’s what I’m saying! Hands are the secret. The things they can do.” You faced Nancy, walking up to her, bowing and extending your hand. “It can be gentle like, courteous, almost.” You let hand fall to her shoulder, cold against her skin. A finger made its way down her arm to her wrist — featherlight in its touch — ending when you took ahold of her hand and pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. You smiled at the way her breath exhaled. You spun around and stepped towards Eddie. The alcohol was making you bolder than usual tonight, it seemed. 

“Or— it can be dangerous, controlling, more sexual.” Your fingers traced Eddie’s jaw, feeling the muscles beneath it. His brown eyes were pinned on yours, mouth slightly agape. You took ahold of his chin and dragged him to his feet so his head was level to yours. You could feel his breath on your face as you leaned closer to his ear. “I can do so much with yet so little, and make you feel amazing. Simply by using my hands,” you whispered. “And I bet you know a thing or two as well, guitar boy.” 

A hand made its way down his chest and pushed him down into his seat again. You took note of his wide pupils as you turned back to your own seat.

“I, er— wow,” Steve muttered. You chuckled at his breathless tone. Seems like you weren’t the only one to admire a musician’s hands.

“You’re a drummer, though, right, y/n?” Vickie questioned, eyes a bit dazed.

You ducked your head, clearing your throat. “Yes, yes, I am. That is why I do know how to use my hands.”

“You don’t get distracted when you play with others, then?”

You shot her a look of disbelief. “You don’t get turned on when you're near a girl's boobs, do you, Vickie?”

“Touché,” she chuckled. 

Jonathan cleared his throat, bringing the attention to him. “Robin,” he said, meeting her eye. “Truth or dare?”

“Well, since everyone else here has been so boring, I choose dare.”

Jonathan’s smile widened as he glanced at Vickie. “I dare you to kiss the person you find hottest.”

Robin’s own smile dropped and she shot a scathing glance at the giggling teenagers. She ducked her head in exasperation, biting out a “fine,” and downed the rest of her drink — probably for courage. She turned her gaze to Vickie beside her, question written in her eyes. She let her hand rest against Vickie’s cheek before pressing their lips together. Cheers erupted around the fire and you couldn’t help yourself from letting out a laugh. Finally, you thought.

“Wow,” Vickie breathed, a smile gracing her lips. “That was—“

“Yeah.” Robin’s own smile matched Vickie’s. 

“Eddie,” Steve exclaimed with a smug expression. “Truth or dare?”

His gaze jumped to you, answering Steve absentmindedly, “Dare.”

“Alright, y/n happens to have told us some things that you apparently own.” Everyone’s gaze turned to Eddie’s surprised face. His gaze turned accusing, but you feigned innocence with a smile. “I need to know— what do you use your handcuffs for?”

Eddie choked on his drink and you had to fight to hold in your laugh. You had seen the handcuffs hanging beside his bed when you came over to him a while ago. You remembered telling Steve and Robin about them, wondering what in the hell he used them for — even if you did have a hunch. It seemed as if you would finally get your answer.

“I thought this was a dare?” Eddie asked.

“Fine, I dare you to show us what you use them for?”

He sighed, chuckling half heartedly, “I don’t know if this is the right time for that.”

“Hey!” Robin exclaimed, “You got the dare, you gotta do the dare!”

Eddie’s brown doe eyes turned to you, begging for help. You usually would have done what he wanted, rescued him out of kindness. But you were curious. You enjoyed seeing him sweat like this. It only made you wonder what on earth the handcuffs really were for. You felt like teasing him, tonight. You felt dangerous. You had gone this far already, so why not go further?

You slowly shook your head, eyes still set on Eddie’s. “I’m afraid you’re on your own for this one, Eddie.”

He sucked in a breath, ducking his head. “I use the handcuffs— as restraints.” You let out a breathless chuckle. He really was a kinky motherfucker, huh?

Steve narrowed his eyes, looking helplessly around for any clue. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Eddie snapped, clearly embarrassed at this point, “Is that I use them during sex.” 

Knew it.

Jonathan fully spit out his drink, Nancy having to pound him on the back for him to not choke. Robin and Steve had the same shocked expressions on their faces. What had they expected, really?

Vickie let out a loud laugh. “Sex? Really?” Eddie ducked his head, shaking it. “You’re turning out to be more interesting than I thought.”

“Knew you were kinky in bed, Eddie,” you said, smugness written all over your features. He narrowed his eyes, looking you up and down, head tilted.

“I would assume the same for you.”

You let out a laugh, meeting his eye. “Guess you’d have to find out.”

Robin cleared her throat, bringing your gaze to her. You gave her a questioning look. “You can keep flirting later when we’ve finished playing.”

Your breath hitched, feeling your cheeks start to heat up immediately. Flirting was one thing, but being called out on it and actually having to acknowledge you were doing it? A completely other thing. You dared a glanced at Eddie and he looked as flustered as you felt. You chose to just ignore what was said and move on.

“Jonathan,” Steve said, “Truth or dare?”

“Er, yeah— truth.”

“Who of us here do you want — or have ever wanted — to fuck?”

Jonathan’s eyes widened, jumping around the fire. “What are with these questions, man?”

“Come on, Jonathan,” you laughed, his eyes moving to yours. “We’re drunk, we’re having fun. Why not?”

Jonathan groaned, “Fine.” His gaze moved to every person again, this time more careful. He swallowed his nervousness, taking a deeper breath. “Well, Nancy, of course.”

“There must be more than just her.” Steve leaned closer to him. “Even I can name more than one here I’ve wanted to fuck.” You eyebrows shot up as you glanced over at Steve.

“Like whom?” Jonathan asked.

“Well, er— it’s not really my truth, is it?” Steve muttered, scratching the back of his neck. 

Eddie took a swig of his drink, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh, no getting away with this, Stevie.” His brown eyes burned in the light of the fire. “Pray tell, who here have you wanted to fuck?”

Steve sighed, accepting his defeat. “Fine,” he bit out. Eddie winked at him, pleased with himself. Steve avoided everyone’s gaze as he started to name everyone as quickly as he could. “Nancy, Jonathan, y/n and Eddie, — and Robin — before I knew, that is. I also believe I was briefly attracted to Billy at some point.” The corner of your lips started to tug up as you looked over the Eddie, a grin on his face as well. 

“Billy?” Nancy exclaimed.

“You’re really trying to collect us all, huh, lover boy?” you teased, winking at him. Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Wait, does that mean all of us have turned Steve on at least on one point?” Eddie laughed. You snorted, his gaze to gliding to yours. 

“I mean, all it would take is cracking a joke and Steve will be creaming his pants,” Robin laughed, leaning heavily on Vickie. A hiccup escaped her lips. You didn’t know exactly how much she had drunk tonight, but you doubted she would remember much tomorrow.

Steve leaned forward, extending an accusing finger in her direction. “Listen, you butthead. I cannot help with whom I’m attracted to! I didn’t choose you all dumbasses.” Robin gave him a blank stare, pouting lightly. “What?” he asked.

“I just cannot believe you would call me a butthead,” she muttered, trying to fight her smile. He threw his arms up in exasperation, standing up to try to get rid of the nervous energy in his body. “So harsh, Stevie.”

“You wound me, Steve.” Your hands clenched over your heart, hurt written across your features. You fell back on the ground behind the log, leaves ruffling beneath your feet. You sprung to your feet, a big grin on your face, and met Eddie’s gaze. You watched the fire being reflected in his brown eyes, an almost dazed smile on his face. God, he really was beautiful. 

“Really, Steve?” Eddie questioned. “The King of Hawkins High wanted to fuck the Freak?” Steve flashed him a sarcastic smile, before scoffing at you. It only made your grin grow. 

Jonathan cleared his throat. “Okay, alright— Steve wants to fuck us all, got it.” Steve groaned yet again from his seat, muttering curses you couldn’t quite catch. Jonathan’s smile widened. 

“Moving on—,” Nancy said, bringing her hands together and turning her gaze to you. “I believe it’s y/n’s turn.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, his lips tugging up. “Truth or dare?”

You shot a nervous glance at Eddie, his brown eyes already set on yours. His hair was a ruffle of locks, carefully draping over his shoulders. The corner of his lip was tugged up in a half smile, something you happened to find very attractive. God, you dreaded what truth you would have to reveal to your friends — but you feared whatever the dare would be more. 

“Truth,” you smiled, gaze still set on Eddie. Robin shot a mischievous glance at Steve, a nod passing between the two of them. Oh god, you did not like this.

“Alright, y/n,” she said. “When — and more importantly, what — was your last sex dream?”

And there it was. 

You furrowed your brows. “Oh, man.” You rarely remembered what your dreams were about. Your last sex dream? “I gotta be honest, Robin, I don't even remember.” Your gaze shifted to Steve. “Or know what it was about, for that matter.”

Robin started to shake her head, but Steve was quicker. “I don’t believe you, y/n,” he said, gaze jumping to you. “I think you just don’t want to reveal anything embarrassing.”

Your eyebrows raised at his accusation. “I am serious! I don’t know! Both of you know how bad my memory is.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. 

Robin’s lip tugged up into a smirk. “Well, since y/n can’t remember, maybe we should help him out. Don’t you think, Stevie?” Steve’s lips immediately grew into a grin. Your eyes jumped between the two, narrowing. What were these two up to? 

“An excellent idea,” Vickie quipped.

“Don’t you start on this, too,” you bit out at her. “Traitors, all of you.” You dared a glance at Eddie, his grin just as shit-eating as the rest of them and eyes seeming very curious. 

“So, tell us. What was it?” Nancy leaned forward, a hand on Jonathan’s arm. You shot a warning glance at Robin — which she either didn’t notice or pretended not to — even though you had no idea of how she would know you’d had a sex dream. Unless— you prayed you hadn’t said anything.

“Last night, when y/n and I slept over at Steve’s, he was dreaming.” She shot a glance at Steve, whom’s grin only widened. “And we heard him say—“

“Oh, Eddie—” Steve moaned, bursting out into laughter with the rest of them.

Your mouth fell open, completely in awe. Blood immediately rushed to your cheeks — a clear sign of your flustered state. You couldn’t believe you had said that. You tried hiding your face between the fingers of your hands. It was to no avail. The laughter kept going, drowning out all other sound.

You dared a glance at Eddie between the gaps of your fingers. You were terribly afraid of how he would react to this. Would he be disgusted? Awkward? Wanting to end your friendship? You didn’t want to endanger your relationship with him. Maybe you could play it off as just a physical thing, rather than the emotional attachment you seemed to have formed. You expected some sort of comment, at least — a snarky insult slung at you. 

But when you met his eye you knew there would be none of that. He wasn’t looking at you weirdly, or any differently than normal. His eyes were blown wide, astonished in their expression, mouth agape. It was as if he couldn’t believe you would be attracted to him. But that’s impossible, right? There was no way he could think that.

“Are you sure the two of you haven’t hooked up, because it sounded way too real,” Robin laughed. She hiccuped again, almost laying on Vickie at this point. You absentmindedly shook your head, still holding Eddie’s gaze. His eyes really were beautiful. The way they shone in the sun, always full of mischief and always so curious. You loved that about him. 

“I think I need to get her to bed,” Vickie said, glancing around. Nancy nodded with her and offered to help Robin to their tent. Jonathan and Steve’s eyes met, a nod passing between them before standing up and excusing themselves for the night. You gave them a scathing glare. This was not over.

It was now only you and Eddie left — him staring intently at you and you desperately avoiding his gaze. You waited for him to drop the insult, the comment. Anything that showed that he truly had no feelings for you. 

“You—” he started, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “You had a sex dream about me?”

“Er, well— I mean, it seems so?” Your mind drew a blank. What could you even say to that?

Before Eddie could stop himself he dragged a hand down his face. “But why— why me, though?” Your eyes widened, full of disbelief. Why not him? Did he not know how attractive he was?

“Eddie, you’re hot as fuck.”

A chuckle escaped his lips, almost humourless, shaking his head. You shot to your feet, not really sure what to do. You really weren’t good with feelings. 

“What I mean is, Eddie, you’re an incredible person.” You smiled, softening at his gaze. “You never fail to make me laugh — whether you’re being an annoying dork or unnecessarily sweet. I don’t think you understand how much I really care about you.”

“You really think so?” he whispered, brown eyes on you. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, moving to sit beside him.

“So, you have a crush on me?” His smile turned smug and the familiar glint returning to his eye. There he was. My Eddie.

“What?” You rolled your eyes and fought against the urge to move away from him again. “I never said that.”

“You implied it. Plus, how could you not? I mean, I am amazing.” He gestured to himself, grinning widely. 

“Amazingly an asshole, maybe,” you snapped. He may be beautiful, but he was amazing at being a pain in your ass. 

He shrugged, fighting against the tug of his lips. “Only fitting for an incredibly idiotic man, I suppose.”

“Did you just call me an idiot?

“I called you incredible,” he breathed, turning to face you. His gaze jumped all over your face, unsure of what to do. You had flirted before, but it had always been more discreet and disguised in between insults. Never had you been this open and forthright with each other. It was terrifying, you had to admit. But you let yourself relax, involuntary leaning closer to him, your gaze studying every detail of his face without shame. 

His hand tentatively reached for you cheek, almost too scared to touch you. But as soon as you leaned into the touch, he gripped harder, his fingers reaching behind your neck. You felt him gently tug you closer and you almost fell against him in your hurry to reach him. 

You kissed him hard, with everything you had and had not yet said to him. Everything you couldn’t say to him. He responded with an equal amount of enthusiasm, pushing you back. You realized this was not so much different from your verbal spats, but instead it was dominance you were fighting for. You gripped his hair, tugging lightly at the same time as you bit down on his lip. His mouth fell agape and he practically moaned at the sensation, sounding so sensual you had to pause. Masochist and touch starved? Boy, you’d have your hands full with him. He pulled away, breathing heavily and pupils blown wide. 

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you breathed, letting the corners of your lips tug up into a smile. 

“Was it like that in your dream?” Eddie asked. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, failing to keep the grin from his face.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe we should try to recreate it.” You narrowed your eyes, matching Eddie’s smirk. “The whole dream.”

“That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

“I generally do have brilliant ideas.”

© 2022 all rights reserved to ❝ moonyswritinq ❞. do not plagiarize, steal, repost w/o credit for your own gain. gif not mine-

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

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The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[kkusuka]

I’m so proud I’ve been here long before 2k💁🏼‍♀️ N E WAY CONGRATSSSSS!!!

Can I have fluff 16 with a twist tho, like “My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." with Gojou, Fushiguro, Itadori and a fem reader? If 3 characters are way to many you can keep only Gojou. Keep being amazinggg<3

thank you so much!! <3

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see."

Gn!Pronouns, but you are implied to be female! 

Cw: an itsy bitsy hint of angst, slight confessions, reader panics, 

a/n: these were almost criminally fun to write, I love these three so much 

Gojou Satoru 

Words: 700 

You had no idea how a simple piece of paper could make you feel. Awkward, confusion, shock, all from one note that you thought was a bill. 

‘Y/n L/n save the date!’ was the last thing you had expected, from your ex-boyfriend nonetheless. The same guy who dated you for a whole three years before telling you over text that it wasn’t going to work out. 

Well, the both of you never had a bad relationship after, but you were a severe level of butthurt. But what made you really freeze was the plus one invitation, if you showed up to your ex’s wedding you would look like a loser. 

Since you were clearly going, you’d never miss on free food and a chance to have a day off, you needed an outfit and a date. The outfit was pretty easy to figure out, you’d go shopping on the weekend and buy something then. 

But someone to go with? You had about three friends whom you knew could not afford any days off and that you just didn't want to take. (at least you had some last resorts) Then, another problem, if they weren’t part of the Jujutsu world it would be harder to explain if you had to abruptly leave, which was a huge possibility this time of year. 

With that, your options were cut down to two- Nanami and...Gojou, of all people. 

Obviously, you tried, emphasis on tried, Nanami first. But after 24 missed calls and a 15-second conversation where he basically told you to shove it, you were in full-on panic mode. The wedding was in three days and you had to do something about your inevitable loneliness. 

You had to get over yourself, the worst Gojo could do was make fun of you or say no. But, he never passes up the opportunity for sweets, just lay on the dessert y/n!

“To what do I owe this sweet phone call Y/n? Confessing your love for yours truly?” his voice laughed through the line. You just had to ask him in a way that would compel him to want to come with you. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you blurt not even thinking about the words falling from your lips. 

You come to realize your words from the ringing silence in your ears, “I’m sorry I just-” 

“I’ll come” he answered, cutting off your apologies. He’ll come, you didn't even have to say anything about sugar or bribe him into coming. 

“You’ll come? Really? Why-wait Thank you! It’s on Saturday at 3 pm, we can go together if that makes things better! Thank you so much, you just saved me Gojo! How can I make it up to you!” you were just spouting whatever you could to thank him, listening to his daughter from his side. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with my little Sugar? You can make it up to me by wearing your prettiest little dress so we’ll be the hottest couple at the wedding.” he teased, continuing ranting about how you should match colors to add ‘flare’. 

“While we’re there we can start planning our own wedding! Doesn’t that sound fun Sugar!” 

Fushiguro Megumi 

Words: 700 

“What even is that” Megumi’s voice rang through the office hallway. You’d like to know too, you haven’t spoken to anyone from your hometown, save for our family, since you moved away six years ago. 

“I’m not totally sure, you want to open it with me?” you question opening the door to your office as he silently follows you in. 

Settling the rest of the mail down, you take a closer look at the suspicious envelope noticing the name on the return address. There's no way! Why the hell was your ex sending you things to your official workspace?

“What’s wrong? Is it bad?” Megumi doesn't know what to do, your face went pale and you looked super confused. 

“Oh, nothing really. I’m just surprised, it’s from my ex” well now he was frozen, was it a love letter? Why was he sending you stuff, he just hoped that it wasn't bad, you had enough on your plate and you didn’t need more. 

Opening the envelope to see flower patterns and script lettering; you know exactly what this letter will be telling you. Just as you suspect a date plastered on the card along with two all familiar names flood your senses. 

“He’s getting married!” you couldn't believe it, why would he invite his high school ex to his wedding, it was an odd choice, to say the least. 

“That’s cool I guess, anyway I gotta go, have fun,” he murmured leaving the room and letting to wonder if you were even going to show up in the first place, but at the moment you send an email and reserve a spot for yourself and admittedly a plus one that didn’t exist. 

You would figure it out in due time!

 ❍❍❍

You did not figure anything out and the wedding was tomorrow. No one in their right mind would drop everything to come to some random wedding. Your point proved when Itadori explained he had plans to go see a movie marathon with Jumpei that he just couldn’t cancel. 

Not even Nobara would spare you some mercy, she and Maki were having a pre-planned girls' day, one that you would be going to if you hadn't agreed to go to some random wedding. 

Now you could only pray that Mehgumi felt enough pity that he would go with you. Deciding that a call would be too impersonal and would be easier to say no over, you make your way to his apartment with a box of dumplings that you knew he loved. 

“Gumi-chan? Open up please!” you knocked on the door waiting for him to come, him appearing a few seconds later; hair messy in sweatpants and a black tank-top. No- this isn’t about his body, it could be, but you had to get this settled first. 

“Uh? Did I miss something? Why are you here?” his questions break you from your stare as you shove the food in his arms, gathering all the courage you could muster. 

“These are for you and all you need to do is hear me out, please? I would really like you too!” you beg, watching as he silently commanded for you to continue. 

“As you know, my ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you kept your head low as you explained to him what had happened, “I really need you to do this for me, I'll give you anything I swear! Just help me this once!” 

“Why do you need me?” he mumbled, commanding your attention back onto his face. 

“Because it’ll be fun and you need to get out.” ‘and this is my way of asking you out but not asking you at the same time’ goes unsaid.

“Fine, but you have to come to dinner with me the next time my dad asks.” that was it you, ultimatum, an easy one too. 

“Deal! Now we have to match or it’ll look stupid, and we have to practice dancing and-” 

“Dear Lord, what did I get into” 

Itadori Yuji 

Words: 600 

You’d pinned the invitation above your bed as a constant reminder that you had to do something. 

Not that you cared what your ex thought of you at their wedding, but something deep inside wanted to show him that you were happy without him. 

And the only way to do that was to shove a hot guy down his throat; better yet, a totally hot guy that was into you. Now all you needed was a hot guy to be into you. 

Well, you had a hot guy to go with you. In a desperate plea, you had asked your good friend Itadori, formally known as the vessel of another somewhat friend Sukuna, and he had agreed. 

Just thinking about it made you cringe a bit; you had been freaking out and ran to his apartment, drenched in rain. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see," you explained frantically, waving your hands. Watching his face contort into every human emotion you could think of, before spreading into a smile. 

“Of course I’ll come with you! It sounds like a blast!” of course Sukuna had a few choice words to say about that, something along the lines of, ‘you're not dragging me to some stupid event because you're lonely! I refuse!” 

And he continued to complain throughout the night of planning and the next morning when you told him he was going whether he wanted to or not and he told you he’d rather die. 

“This Wench will not dictate my life!” he spoke through a mouth on Yuji’s cheek, eye slit glaring in your direction. 

“And I’m not letting some lame demon tell me what I can and can’t do with my friend!” you argued back. 

But he didn't have a say anyway. 

Now you were standing before a mirror, admiring how your dress wrapped around your body, waiting for Itadori to come to the door. 

Hearing the knocks on your door, you grab a small bag and your invitations and your plus one, opening the door to Yuji in a three-piece black suit, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You look great-” 

“You look crazy beautiful-” 

Both of you freeze at the word mix-up, then breaking into laughter as you loop your arm through his outstretched one. 

“Seriously you look great, y/n. You have that guy wishing he’d never let you go! Wait then you wouldn’t be with me, so just make him miss you a bit but not too much!” he stammered out as you continued your way to his car. 

“You are the worst two humans in existence.” 

[teklarn]

hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia) 

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!! 

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst. 

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk 

word count: 3,859 

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !) 

- - - 

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally. 

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’? 

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day. 

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders. 

his leg was bouncing eagerly. 

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else. 

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn... 

“y/n! come look at this!” 

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over. 

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone. 

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku? 

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!” 

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you. 

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?” 

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look. 

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?” 

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.” 

“holy—” 

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking. 

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article. 

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!” 

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?” 

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped. 

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them. 

his eyes bore into yours. 

“did you...need something?” 

your voice broke his trance. 

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.” 

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?” 

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?” 

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me. 

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting. 

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was. 

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.) 

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up. 

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.” 

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother. 

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you. 

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped. 

“shitty hair, let go of me.” 

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?” 

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato. 

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped. 

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries. 

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together. 

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms. 

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh. 

- 

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.” 

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.” 

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.” 

denki sighed, slumping back. 

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds. 

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head. 

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.” 

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned. 

the brunette grinned. “great!” 

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name. 

“bakugou.” 

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find... 

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground. 

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent. 

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called. 

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure. 

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him. 

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks. 

you laughed. “what?” 

“shut up.” 

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.” 

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?” 

so you had heard him! 

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.” 

“i wouldn’t dream of it.” 

gosh he loved that about you. 

bakugou caught his thought in the air. 

ahem...gosh he hated that about you. 

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first. 

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it. 

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache. 

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.  

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body. 

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back. 

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t. 

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either. 

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky. 

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out. 

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent. 

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so... 

you stood over him, hands on your hips. 

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile. 

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain. 

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels. 

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.” 

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back. 

- 

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on. 

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room? 

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard. 

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.” 

you barely grunted in response. 

“don’t ignore me.” 

“i heard you, mom.” 

“the hell did you call me?” 

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive. 

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back. 

“‘kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened. 

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you. 

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in. 

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.” 

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?” 

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—” 

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving. 

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly. 

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” 

“you’re annoying.” 

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it. 

- 

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body. 

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds. 

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you. 

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason. 

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion. 

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions. 

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes. 

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen. 

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back. 

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face. 

“fight me again,” he demanded. 

“excuse me?” 

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” 

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.” 

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.” 

“you’re being stubborn.” 

“i’m being reasonable. back off.” 

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou. 

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.” 

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?” 

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away. 

-

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself. 

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?” 

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.” 

“dude...that sounds really weird.” 

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.” 

- 

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again. 

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong. 

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great? 

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear. 

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right? 

what was so...amazing about deku? 

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these. 

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent. 

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you. 

you were the only person to be able to do this to him. 

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head. 

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.” 

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga. 

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.) 

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?” 

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not. 

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here. 

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.” 

“okay? is that it?” 

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him? 

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”  

“...what?” 

gosh dammit, as friends? 

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side. 

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor. 

this earned a snicker from you. 

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.” 

your eyes flew wide. “...what?” 

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.” 

he swallowed. 

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.” 

he leaned closer. “yes?” 

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.” 

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal. 

“oh, alright.” 

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode. 

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything. 

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right? 

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you. 

[hunxi-after-hours]

Which do you think is more tragic, Yi City arc or BeefLeaf arc or the Fallout between Shen Jiu - Yue Qi?

you come to me with this question, me, whose first CQL fic was songxiao-centric, me, the person whose literal favorite arc of CQL is Yi City, and you expect me to be unbiased and reasonable? a bold, bold presumption to make

so actually in a surprising turn of events, my answer is still going to be Yi City, but not for reasons of favoritism (I mean, yes for reasons of favoritism, but also for reasons for personal preferences when it comes to characterization and narrative writing)

so, here's the thing when it comes to reading tragedy — nothing hits me harder than immense promise and potential that has been unceremoniously cut short. it is one thing for a character who has reached the end of their narrative arc to smile beatifically and walk into the fires of sacrifice, limned with an otherworldly halo and remembered with worshipful reverence; it is another thing entirely for a character, just barely at the beginning of their journey, filled with optimism and courage, only now daring to take that first step, or the second, or the third and yeah okay so Stormlight veterans know exactly who I'm thinking about right now, into realizing the vast potential who they could become, only to be cut down cruelly and unreasonably by the hand of fate (the author)

which is to say, death in narrative isn't necessarily tragic — the wasted potential of a person is. what could they have done? who could they have become? and how much of their greatness will we never see? that, I think, is loss — that is what characterizes tragedy in my media consumption, renders it separate from grief or sorrow or injustice

(which is not to say that other character death isn't impactful or evocative, and boy howdy do I have Strong Feelings about how grief narratives are handled in literature and media, but you asked for my thoughts on tragedy in particular so here goes)

I also must confess that I, as a person, with my particular preferences, am perennially unimpressed by the miscommunication trope. don't get me wrong, I can enjoy a moderate amount of angst, drama, clownery, et cetera based on miscommunication or lack of communication in a plot, but after a certain point I do lose my patience with it. as a very wise friend once told me, awkwardness is the price of clarity, so at some point you've just got to get over yourself and say the thing and clear the air

all of which is to say, I am unfortunately not as sympathetic to Yue Qingyuan's plight as I, ah, could be. oh dude, you cultivated too hard and ended up grounded for more time than you were expecting while you were forced to rebuild your cultivation from the ground up, and on top of that got stuck with a sword that eats your life? genuinely, that really sucks to deal with, my condolences on becoming a glass cannon in a world of stupidly OP characters. but your inability to tell Shen Jiu that you actually had very legitimate reasons for coming late to rescue him, for believing that he was dead and not looking for him for all those years? sorry mister peak lord, that's all on you. I know that attempting to reason with Shen Jiu is like trying to give a murderous cat a bath, but like. the man can't forgive you if you don't give him a chance to forgive you, and he won't have a chance to forgive you if he doesn't know that there were extenuating circumstances involved, seriously, in the ten seconds it takes for him to storm off angrily you could yell at least one (1) sentence of explanation at his back instead of bottling it all up and keeping it there until you die

anyway the whole Yue Qi - Shen Jiu business to me is like. tragicomedy at best because their inability to communicate reads as absolute clownery in my book rather than tragedy. have you met two people who wanted to forgive each other more but simply could not open their mouths about it. peak clownhood by the peak lords, rip to Yue Qingyuan but I simply would give in and start yelling because my doormat hours are finite

as for the fall-out of the Black Water Arc, the foundering of He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan's relationship on the shoals of their centuries-long blood debts is... it's not so much tragic to me as, er, "that's rough, buddy?" because here is the thing that strikes me about the Black Water Arc — there is a startling amount of agency involved on all sides, yes, even for the guy who gets his head ripped off his shoulders. Shi Wudu knows that he's committed a crime of cosmic scale, and when the reckoning comes, he owns it, claims it, declares that he does not regret it, even manages to take the shape of his death into his own hands. Shi Qingxuan freely makes the choice to befriend Ming Yi, despite Ming Yi's best attempts to push him away, and even after He Xuan reveals his true identity and purpose to the Shi brothers, Shi Qingxuan still chooses to appeal to their friendship, still chooses to believe in some deeply buried kernel of mercy. likewise, He Xuan makes the choice to seek his revenge to the utmost, despite various opportunities to give it up altogether, or to soft-pedal the consequences, especially in light of Shi Qingxuan's kindnesses

any tragedy in the Black Water Arc, I think, comes from the inevitability of it all, the house of cards that Shi Wudu built around his brother that was always doomed to collapse, but I don't find the Black Water Arc that tragic because... looking back over the narrative, I don't think any of the characters regret their choices. I think, given a second chance, Shi Wudu would still choose to protect his little brother at any cost, He Xuan would still choose to exact his revenge, and Shi Qingxuan would still choose to believe in friendship and kindness and warmth. if they regret anything, I suppose it was that it had to turn out this way, but I don't know what could be changed. and, at the end of the day — a reconciliation is not impossible. there's a hell of a blood debt stacked against it, but the ending of TGCF does leave that door deliberately open

but Yi City Arc? oh boy, now there's a masterclass in tragedy

remember what I said up there, about tragedy being by fueled by unfulfilled/truncated potential? yeah so that goes for every single character involved in this absolute trainwreck of an arc:

Xiao Xingchen: a student of the legendary Baoshan-sanren, was destined to become at least a legendary jianghu figure, only to dwindle into obscurity and a misunderstood legacy

A-Jing: the fact that she died so young is both a crime and a tragedy

Xue Yang: Song Lan's arrival caught Xue Yang in the middle of his heel-face turn; the man wasn't exactly working towards a redemption arc, but Xue Yang was just beginning to become someone more human and less monstrous before he backslides suddenly and decisively

Song Lan: I will allow the miscommunication/lack of communication trope here because it's done well — Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen split because of Song Lan's rage and grief leading him to cast misplaced blame on Xiao Xingchen, and now, years later, Song Lan is searching for Xiao Xingchen precisely to apologize. the man has every intent to resolve the miscommunication of years past! he is going to say things to Xiao Xingchen! songxiao are poised on the literal cusp of reunion and forgiveness and the narrative. denies them. this closure

because what is unfulfilled potential if not the eternal lack of closure? we'll never know who A-Jing, with her cleverness and charisma, could have grown up to become. we'll never see the sect that Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan dreamed of founding, one built on ties of belief rather than blood. we'll never know if Xue Yang could have learned to build with his hands as well break, if his genius could have created something good and right and lasting

you take all of this unfulfilled potential, this lack of closure, and then you sharpen this tragedy to a moonlit edge with sweet agony of time. how close all of them were to fulfilling their potential, to achieving their goals. songxiao were so close to reconciliation, just a name and a voice and a swordstroke away

yeah. now that's a tragedy

[shemarmooresfedora]

Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

-

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

-

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

-

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

or

No

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.

[strangelysamantha]

elderly advice ❀

rafe cameron x plus!reader.

warnings: slight bullying for weight, harsh words, mention of a grandpa, use of word baby, swearing, physical and verbal fighting.

words: 1,964.

summary: when you work at a golf course as a cart girl, you are happy because that means you’ll be seeing rafe more often. but, there’s a downside when you realize that kelce and topper will see you more often as well, and with seeing them more often, you also get to hear their harsh words.

request? nope :)

a/n: i’m just overflowing with idea’s right now. :) i hope you all enjoy this story. it’s angsts at the beginning but it turns into fluff i promise! like and comment if you enjoy this story so i know what you guys want me to write more of. ily thanks! <3

my masterlist

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“you’re a fat ass who shouldn’t be working here. point blank, there’s nothing else to be said.” kelce stared at you in disgust, his eyes dragging up and down your body. topper laughs in agreement, “damn straight. we are trying to golf, not be distracted by a beluga whale who doesn’t belong here.” you quickly hand them their drinks. you ignore their remarks, just trying to finish your shift. tears slowly fall from your eyes but you wipe them as soon as they touch your nose. “can i get you anything else?” you ask, slightly urgent to ensure you leave before your boyfriend comes back.

rafe and you had been dating. not in secret, everyone knew you two were dating. which included kelce and topper. despite them knowing that, they didn’t stop being rude to you every chance they got. they believed you weren’t worthy for rafe, and that he could do much better than you. “yeah, actually. can you give us some space? damn, you are fucking all over us.” you shake your head, speed walking away. you take a deep breath, trying to slow your breathing so you could stay calm. after a few minutes of air, you got back to work. out of the corner of your eye, you see rafe had joined his friends. you avoided going over there, especially since you had just served them.

you walk over to an older man, he smiles lightly at you. “thank you.” he replies softly, taking the drink you were handing him. “why do you let them talk to you like that?” he asks, clearly indicating he had seen the whole event that just happened. “i don’t- i don’t know what i can say. if i say what’s truly on my mind, i’m afraid i’ll lose my job.” your lips curl into a small smile. you acknowledge him nodding his head before you walk off to the next table.

when you turned around, the old man you once saw had got up and moved. you search around to ensure he wasn’t complaining about your service and that’s when you finally spot him at rafe’s table. your breath gets caught in your throat. you profusely apologize to the table you were currently serving, before you start to walk in the old man's direction.

the old man looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. once you get closer to the table, you can hear their conversation. you arrive at the table, swiftly shielding your body with the circular drink holder that was once placed on your flat palm.

“is there a problem?” topper asks, smiling. the old man chuckles, “do you believe there should be a problem?” he asks. your heart beats faster as you fear what the man's next words might be. obviously you don’t want topper and kelce to treat you with hostility, but you didn’t want to go against them in fear that rafe would choose their side. “no sir, no problem here. you are the one who came up to our table.” kelce exclaims before putting on a fake smile when glancing at you.

your eyes are wide, and you calmly tap the old man's shoulder. “i’m sorry sir, is everything okay? is there something you need in particular? i would happily assist you and grab you anything you need.” he glances down at you, now noticing that rafe had placed his arm around your waist. he clearly notices rafe's gesture and laughs lightly. “girl, you deserve so much better.” you nod slightly, but he continues. “i’m assuming that this is your boyfriend?” he asks. rafe smiles, “yes, i’m the boyfriend.” you couldn’t understand the tone in his voice. whether it was protectiveness, jealousy, or just plain amusement, there was definitely something off.

“well, isn’t this a funny picture?” you frown at his words. your eyes plead to him to drop it and move on but he shakes his head, not budging. “that boyfriend of yours sweetie,” his eyes are trained on you. “does he know that his friends harass you every chance they get?” rafe's’ smile has fallen from his face, anger now bubbling up. “what are you talking about?” his eyes narrow, waiting for his response. “i hate to break it to you, but those friends of yours mistreat your girlfriend daily. i’ve see it everyday, she’s just walking around doing her job, and your hooligan friends fat shame and cuss her out. but obviously as her boyfriend you knew that right?” he questions, rafe's grasp on your waist tightens when you begin to walk away. his hands prevent you from walking off.

“not so fast.” rafe says, now standing. “who is this guy?” you hesitate, but he answers for you. “this guy is her great grandpa who has just flown to town a week or so ago.” your face drops as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. your great grandpa. you hadn’t ever met your family, unless they lived in the house with you. you had only met him once for a family reunion when you were seven.

“oh. sir- i’m sorry i didn’t mean to…” grandpa cuts him off immediately, “i shouldn’t be the one you are apologizing too.” he nods, but before rafe can register it you had already ran to the employee only break room. you slide down the wall, your arms wrapping around your legs as you begin to weep. it’s hard to breathe as you realize that rafe now knows. the next interaction with rafe is detrimental as it will showcase if he truly loves you, or if he would rather choose his friends. 

“sir! you can’t be back here! i won’t hesitate to call security!” your fellow employee called out. you had a huge inkling that they were talking to rafe. “call the security, i don’t give a shit. i need to go back there, my girl is back there and i know she’s not doing okay.” rafe pushes past them and sees you crying on the floor. his heart burns in his chest as he sees the distraught state you were in. “baby…?” he questions.

“yes, rafe?” you respond, your head still hiding in your palms. “baby look at me, please.” you hesitated, but inevitably lifted your face up. he rushed over, sitting in front of you, “what do they say?” he immediately asks, while he wipes away your stray tears. you frown recalling the numerous events where his friends would bully you, “which time?” you ask. his heart drops at your words. he hated to admit it, but he was oblivious to what they were doing to you.

“please. you have to tell me what they were saying to my baby.” he frowns, his voice being lighter than you’ve ever seen it. “rafe-,” you try to tell him to drop it, but he shuts you up immediately. “what the fuck do they say to you? i’m not playing any games.” you breathe out, “they just say i don’t deserve you, and that you could do better, and that they think i’m a fat waste of space.” his grip on your hand tightened. “what the fuck...” is all he said before he stood up and stormed out of the room.

you quickly wipe your tears away, before following after him. by the time you catch up, he’s already yelling at both topper and kelce. “why the fuck have you been saying that shit? it’s not your fucking place to say shit like that about my girl!” rafe’s hand were grasping at toppers t-shirt. your hand covers your own mouth as the event in front of you unravels. “trust me rafe, we’re doing you a favor.” rafe scoffs, pushing topper, as he stumbled back. “fuck you mean man? i don’t need any favors from you.” rafe’s yelling caused a commotion as half the guests were now staring.

you frown, not knowing what to do. “alright. so what? we make a few jokes. it’s not our fault she’s so sensitive and takes everything to heart.” kelce laughs, and so does topper. “for real, she’s being extra like always. what’s fucking new.” topper exclaims, he now has regained his balance, rafe stands straighter. “you guys are assholes, you know that right? i mean what? you thought i’d never find out?” topper laughs, “well obviously, we knew she’d never tell you. i mean, we’ve been messing with her for fucking months man.” rafe’s anger grows stronger, he knew it had been going on for a while, maybe a week or two. but months??

rafe looks back at you, his eyes softening. you’d been dealing with his friends, taking every low blow and jab just so you could be with him. rafe’s attention returned to kelce and topper. “we will talk about this later. fuck both of you. that’s fucked up, regardless if she was my girl or not. such fucking dicks.” rafe pushed them both one last time before hurrying to your side.

his arms immediately find a placement against your hips. you avoided eye contact. “come on baby, let’s go.” he grabbed your hand and walked you to his car. luckily your shift had ended so you wouldn’t get in trouble with work. once inside his car, he starts it. before he pulls out of the parking lot, he’s staring at you, a question lingering in his mind.

“baby?” he quietly asks, his entire demeanor changing from just a few minutes ago, his hand reached for your thigh. “yes?” you reply, finally gaining enough courage to maintain eye contact with him. “why…” he hesitated but decided to ask anyway. “why didn’t you tell me that they were doing that? if i had any idea they were doing that… i mean, they wouldn’t even hear the end of it.” you frown. “do you want the truth?” you wait for his response. “yes.” you nod, “well. i was scared that you would pick them over me.” he was speechless. his jaw clenched as his grip on your thigh tightened.

“baby. i would never condone what they were doing. they are fucking assholes. they were undoubtedly trying to ruin the best thing i have. i would never choose them over you. i don’t- why would you even believe that?!” his eyes were soft, pleading for any excuse you could muster up. “i’m sorry, i was just scared.” he nodded, he finally drove you to your house.

once inside your house, you two were sitting on your bed in comfortable silence. you were sitting down playing on your phone, as his head was laid against your thighs. “you know i love you, right?” he asks. you nod, your hand massaging in his hair. “i know rafe. and you know i love you too.” he nodded, one hand gripping your thigh, as the other drew shapes against your skin.

“i’m really sorry they treated you that way. if i had any idea-.” you cut him off immediately. “rafe you couldn’t have known. it’s okay i promise. please, it’s okay.” he shakes his head. “it’s not okay. they are supposed to be my friends but now i come to find out they tried to actively run you away. it makes me fucking mad.” you nod. “well i’m still here. and i don’t plan on running away.” he nodded, sighing. “thank you.” you lean down and press a kiss on his hair. “of course.”

silence surrounded you again. “can i still beat the shit out of them?” he asks. you gasp. “rafe! no!! they aren’t worth it.” he slightly laughs. “fine. only because you said no.” he snuggles his face deeper into your thighs, playing with the fabric of your shorts. “i’m happy here.” you shake your head, setting your phone down. “only because you are between my thighs.” you feel him smile. “exactly.”

[moemammon]

Alright so my request is angsty-ish. Mc is engaged to someone else when they move for the exchange program and stays faithful during their entire stay, so maybe hcs on how the brothers react to a taken MC who (if they even try to advance) actively avoids romantic situations with them, and maybe a little bonus of them reuniting with their lover smittened.

I tried to request this before but all my asks get eaten so I just wanted to make sure it got through

"What Do You Mean You're Already Taken?!" (Feat the Demon Bros and GN!MC)

(Hell yeah angst time heheHEH >:))

Lucifer

Can you even imagine how Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, reacted when his obvious advances toward you were always awkwardly brushed off? No matter what he tried, no matter how perfectly romantic the situation, he could never coax you into accepting his affections.

And he soon found out why, when you finally admitted that you were taken by another.

He can't remember the last time he's felt pain like this. He'd finally found someone he could be... vulnerable with. Someone he could open himself up to, who wouldn't see him in a different light as a result.

But to know that no matter what, he'll never be able to have you? It's a worse punishment than he could've imagined himself. He can't do anything but accept it, and you'll soon find that his advances come to a complete vault.

He's a little colder to you, but that's only because he's trying to relearn how to feel about your presence. He asks that you give him some time alone, for a few days. He'll be busy in his office in the time being.

Mammon

God, he's crushed. Mammon... was always aiming to be your first everything. Guess someone beat him to the punch before he could do anything to stop it. It takes everything in him not to accuse you of pulling his leg.

But you can't be serious... right? You're saying that no matter what he does or how strongly he feels, he can never have you? He won't get to hold you against him? He'll never be able to kiss you? To pull you under his sheets so you can sleep your worries away? Never be able to tell you just how much he loves you, more than any material possession in this entire world...?

But... why couldn't you just choose him..?

Mammon doesn't get it. He feels like he's always getting the short end of the bargain no matter what he tries. He knew the stakes were high when he started pining for you. You're... YOU! Perfect, amazing, lovable you... who will never be his.

These days he's barely home. You guys are still 'friends', but sometimes you can't tell if he's teasing you or actually being mean. He can't even stand being around you for too long, because his damned heart starts pounding until it hurts. He'd rather gamble the nights away than to have to deal with that.

Levi

Of course you're taken... it's not like he could've expected otherwise. Someone as great as you wouldn't look good standing with a gross otaku...

Jokes aside, Levi's heart has just shattered into a million pieces. You were his one! The one he dreamed about! The one he wanted to be around, despite his crippling social anxiety!

You got him... No, you REALLY got him. He didn't have to put up any walls when he was with you. He knew you liked him for who he was, and that you weren't secretly making fun of him when he wasn't around.

And... you two actually enjoyed one another's company! You shared so many laughs, so many days together, and just when he thought he'd gathered the courage to ask you to be his, you told him that you were taken.

He'll get over it. He's used to being disappointed, after all. Just don't mind him while he spends the next two weeks holed up in his room. If you need something, do you might just writing a note and slipping it under his door? He can't bear to look at his phone, since it's full of pictures of you.

Satan

Satan didn't mean to cause an outburst like that. He never meant to scare you. But when he realized that all this time spent falling deeper, and hopelessly in love with you, was all for naught? He didn't know how to react.

So many new, strange feelings rushed into him at once, until it all exploded in a fit of rage. Was it really anger? Or was it sorrow so strong that it could've been mistaken as such? He couldn't tell, because he's never felt this way before.

His room had been completely destroyed, many precious books lost to the unstoppable force that was his angry release. And when it subsided he was left feeling empty and lost... scared, even.

Would you think differently of him now? Would he think differently of YOU now? Could this... odd, sick, twisted relationship of yours be mended..? He didn't even know if he had the strength to attempt it.

So he isolates himself from you, spending a great deal of time repairing the damage done to his room. And when that's been finished, he's reading like his life depends on it. In the world of books, he can forget about real life entirely. Is it silly for him to imagine that maybe, some day, everything will work out like in a lighthearted fairytale?

Asmo

So you have a partner? Polygamy is fine too! Or so he thought, until you emphasized that you were loyal to your one and only partner. Meaning.. Asmo wasn't invited to the party.

Now, the Avatar of Lust wasn't exactly one who knew rejection. Sure he got a few 'no's here and there, but those little flings meant nothing and had no weight on his heart.

But you? You... were everything he didn't know he needed. Asmo knew he was beautiful and alluring, but you knew there was more to him than that. And you sought to bring those parts of him out into the light! He could only dream of showing his true self to you and you alone.

Asmodeus felt so secure with you, like the mask he'd been wearing for millennia could finally come off. With you, he could just be himself, and he could never tell you just how much that really meant to him. But now his heart aches with a pain he's never felt before, and it hurts so much that he can't help but cry.

His devilgram followers have been seeing him a LOT more lately. So has all of the devildom, really. He's never home anymore, choosing to fill the void with temporary lovers instead. It isn't enough though, and it only makes the pain worse. But in the end, what more can he do? He doesn't understand what love is without you.

Beel

Beel loved you. More than he could understand. More than he could've known.

When the feeling first blossomed within him, he thought it was hunger. Instead, it was a burning desire for you and only you, twisting in his core and setting his heart on fire.

Beel didn't understand it, but he knew that when you were with him, he could breathe a little easier. He could forget about the gnawing hunter that clouded his thoughts. For once, he actually felt free of his sin.

And then, you told him about your significant ofter, and he’d never felt so hungry in his life. The pain was so strong he thought he might collapse from weakness right then and there. It hurt... he hated it...

To everyone's shock, Beel has begun losing his appetite more frequently, most often after catching a glimpse of you. That familiar pain would sprout within him again and make him grimace, and he could no longer find the desire to eat. Maybe he'd just take his meals to his room from now on..?

Belphie

Right... of course. A human like you would be partnered with a human. It was natural that you'd have relationships before your life in the devildom. Anyone would've known that. So... why the hell did it sting so much?

Belphie couldn't sleep. Every moment he closed his eyes, visions of your sweet smile, your wonderful laugh, the way your nose wrinkled when you ate something gross... all of it haunted him. He couldn't get you out of his head no matter what he tried.

And it was so much worse now that he knew you were taken. He wondered if this was a punishment for killing you, like the universe's way of judging him for his misdeeds, and the ages of hatred he held in his heart for humans. Why would fate allow him to be happily partnered to one?

Try as he might, this was one worry he couldn't sleep away. He could never get comfortable. He couldn't close his eyes without thinking about you. He didn't want this. He hated this feeling of self loathing and regret. Belphagor wanted you, more than he’d ever wanted anything.

Maybe... he could convince you to love him? Show you that his love was so, SO much more than what anyone else could offer? He’d remind you of all the times you two shared together. You're not scared, right? Good. That's the last thing he’d want, because he loves you.

[darthwheezely]

dating fred weasley and being a ravenclaw

wow i am a SIMP for this man! this ain’t new info but! he is truly such a divine man and like…yeah i had to- also this might be longer because Fred has a lot more things to cover in terms of this and his own issues sksksjjs

warnings: light smut, angst at parts, wicked hot men named frederick gideon weasley, mentions of sexual degrading and not the hot or kinky kind :/ basically dudes being scumbags

people that might like this (?): @whiz-bangs78 @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @thatdumbbitchxx @pansydaisy​@vogueweasley @slytherinsunrise @thehufflepuffwife @theweasleyslut dm me to be on the twins taglist or for requests for blurbs/ships/one shots :)

fred thinks you’re an actual literal on god 111% angel sent by god

i swear-

he basically runs into (…literally) when escaping from filch, and knocks into you coming out of transfiguration

and i shit you not, he catches you by the waist like mid dip

oh my GOD please I’m in love with him

Fred Weasley, professional jackass, looked down at you hand still on your waist. He grinned at you and winked and you swore to god you heard the sparkle sound effect. “Hullo, gorgeous.” He heard filch scream “WEASLEY!” and broke away from you, pulling you up and pushing you off of him, leading a running filch to slip in the middle of the hallway, the hall erupting in laughter: including you. Fred inhaled harshly, heart pounding at you laughing at something he managed to pull off. “I’ll…I’ll see you again, yeah?” You froze smiling in place. “Um…yeah…yeah you will?” “Yeah?” He grinned. “Yeah.” With another wink he sped off down the hall…

he couldn’t stop thinking about the wicked hot girl in the hall

god what house was she he thought?

oh shit she had blue on fuck she’s a ravenclaw he thinks. why does he think like that?

she’s outta my goddamn league, he thought before he could stop himself

“Freddie, I know you’re not giving up on the idea of this girl this easy.” George shook his head smirking in the Hall.

“I’m not giving up on anything - she’s just…too good for me.”

“Mate, you know nothing about her except how her eyes ‘sparkled like the stars’ or some whack Tolstoy shit like that…besides, you always did love a challenge, yeah?” At that Fred grinned.

“Georgie, I was thinking exactly the same thing…”

frederick gideon weasley knew what he had to do

FUCKING RUN AROUND THE CASTLE AND LOOK FOR YOU DUH

i swear he probably skipped like a half a day of classes just running from classroom to classroom tryna find your gorgeous self

he also probably was like “anyone seen a literal angel around” and everyone was just like ~please shoot this kid he cannot be deadass~

anyway, he’s starting to run out of breath guys, pobrecito is about to give up for the day and throw in the towel but then

then, fellas and foals-

he sees you

sitting in the center of the quidditch pitch

reading a book and writing in your notebook

and god when i tell you he physically had his ass floored

i mean, Jesus Christ, it’s the way you were just serenely sitting in HIS favorite place in hogwarts, not even in the stands, just absorbing life in the ACTUAL PITCH just

just being there

“What are you doing here, love?” You look up and see Fred, chest heaving, rosy cheeked and fucking glorious. He looked otherworldly with the sun at his back, seemingly glowing. “Knitting a sweater.” You said coolly, and gave a small smile. He bit his lip and made his way over to you and sat down in front of you.

“I’d like that sweater somewhere else, gorgeous.”

“Where, in your mum’s dirty laundry?” He scoffed

“No silly, on me but I’ll take that option too ;)”

You scoffed back and rolled your eyes. “On you? Please, this is made to fit an actual person with a body, Fred.”

“And I don’t have a good enough body for it?”

You bit your lip, gathering courage to look straight back at him. “I wouldn’t know I haven’t seen it.”

and that alone has Fred Weasley garnering a massive tent in his pants

He gulped. “Whats your name, darling?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

He grinned, blushing wildly. “Y/N, you’re never getting rid of me now”

that, my dear, was the truth at its finest

for the first time, he’d found a woman that matched his energy

his banter his intellectual mind was finally satisfied by this beautiful, honest, blunt girl that made him

HIM, THE MAN THAT CAN NEVER SHUT THE FUCK UP, be still.

be quiet. be at peace

“freddie, don’t fucking prank first years you’re better than that”

“Fred, please don’t be a bully. You’re not an unkind person so don’t act that way, okay? Come on”

it’s about three to five days of just non stop flirting

constantly leaving him breathless and without a rebuttal, again something no one has ever been able to do

after this period, he’s eating in the great hall, not having talked to you today and bouncing his knees violently

and he sees you get up and leave the hall

this prompts him to get up and run after you

“Y/N!” You turn to see him running full speed behind you, and you smile widely, blushing a fair ton as he stops in front of you, chest heaving. Your smile falters as he doesn’t say anything “Fred, w-what’s wrong?” He then bites his lip “I’m sorry but I have to” and presses his mouth to yours. You kiss back immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck as he backs you up against the wall. The kiss is hungry, passionate, and after a few moments he pulls off you and leans his forehead to yours. “I need you.” He says hoarsely. “And I need YOU, Freddie.” He smiles and you wrap your legs around his waist…

from that moment, you two are inseparable

we are talking handsy too

oh fuck this about to get fluffy as hell

freddie basically waits until you’re out of class and then will pin you against the wall and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years

“My angel, it’s been far too long.” He says breathlessly, smiling wide before giving you a kiss attack, sending ammunition of kisses all around your face, making you giggle uncontrollably. “My love, it’s only been an hour,” you say in between full body laughter. He then stops, looking at you very seriously. “Darling, that simply will not do,” he clucks and then throws you over his shoulder, sending you into fits of laughter again as he takes you to your next class.

you and fred have so much sex

empty classrooms

in his dorm

in your dorm

in the locker rooms

in the library

“Freddie, harder baby, please” you gasp out as he’s thrusting inside of you at a rhythmic pace, him slipping into you like hot oil, skin slapping as he has you in the shower. “How much do you need me, angel? Cmon love I wanna hear your words...” “yes, yes I need you please” you moan as he hits a new angle “That’s my princess, taking me so well, do you love it when I fill you up? Fuck you so good you can’t walk?” You nod and throw your head back. “Freddie, I’m gonna come” “Good girl, princess, come all over my cock” He growls setting a faster and harder pace, as he chants your name like a hymnal, his hips and movements getting sloppier as he finally releases into you, chest heaving and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Where should we try next, gorgeous, hmm? I think snape’s office should do it, he won’t even know us from the grease stains from his nose” this earns him a smack on the arm

fred marks you up constantly too

wants everyone to see how much his “good little princess” really feels

anything that says “I choose/belong to fred weasley” he’ll make you do

and you adore it and think it’s hot as fuck

he’s also marked his name onto your thighs and boobs before

george basically accepts the fact that you’re his new baby sister too, and when fred isn’t there will protect you like it ashsajdsahjsa

by this i mean fred has employed him to (but mainly george just does it because he loves you too)

but basically

during potions, draco slides in next to you and propositions you:

“How about we strike a deal, Y/L/N?” He looks at you smugly. You roll your jaw. “Yeah I agree, you shut the fuck up and let me pass our project, and I get all the credit without you destroying my handiwork?” He flares red and grabs your wrist. “I know Weaselbee the fourth probably tastes like the rest of his family - trash - but how I about I let you try something different, hmm?” You immediately pull away from him when he releases and make an attempt to focus back on your book. 

fred obviously hears about this because some slytherin guys in the hallway are talking about how much Y/N wants to suck Malfoy’s dick

he’s not stupid, he knows you get sexualized by that dumbass constantly, even before y’all started dating

basically he finds draco in the boys bathroom, corners him, and beats the fuck out of him 

“if you ever get near my girlfriend again, i swear to godric i won’t be so nice next time - don’t wanna get your balls cut off before 17 do you?” 

oh and he’s stupid hot when he’s mad btw but we all been knew

he finds you where he always finds you once you start dating, in his dorm stop his bed

He swallows thickly at the sight of you clearly upset, watching you sit up immediately tears welling in your throat as you begin to apologize. “Freddie, love, I didn’t do anything I promise I didn’t want him to come onto me-“ “Y/N, it’s never your fault. You have to trust me with that I...I hate seeing people hurt you love.” He pulls your body into him whne he reaches the bed, touching you like you’re porcelain, careful not to break you. “I know I get violent and angry or pouty when guys do that to you because I feel like you’ll either choose someone else or I can’t protect you and...you mean everything to me, my angel.” He whispers into your hair, tears stealing on his cheeks. “I promise no one will hurt you anymore because I love you and loving someone means you do anything for them.” He babbles like a small boy, convincing himself of everything until he realizes he’s said it and he inhales. “Y/N y-you don’t have to say it ba-“ “I want to say it back. Remember? I love you and I need you, Fred.” You look up at him softly, chin on his chest and he smiles through tears on his face. “And I love you and I need YOU, my love.”

fred knows you love him and choose him over everyone but again

he gets insecure

in the way George is scared people won’t see him as Fred

fred is afraid you’ll find someone better

someone more stable and less quick tempered

you guys have fights sometimes that end in frustration or angry sex

but fred is always there an hour later sitting outside your dorm door praying to god you forgive him for his mistake

he’s never abusive or malicious

he just gets impulsive with pranks or doesn’t consider feelings sometimes

ON TO THE BURROW!!!!

molly is so thankful for you and hugs you immediately as you walk through the door whispering

“Thank you for making my son feel how he deserves” and your eyes water lightly murmuring a thank you

you instantly catch bill’s attention as he notices the way fred is so much calmer and confident with you around

he seems more sure of himself, and not as angry

his temper too is calmer with your presence, as if the very essence of you is soothing to all youre around

he is, so so in love with you

and yes he can be brash

and yes he can be insecure

and yes he can be impulsive

but yes he would do anything for you

but yes he sees you like no one else can

but yes he knows you struggle and he wants to be there

fred weasley is absolutely incandescently in love with you

and you wouldn’t have it any other way.