#this fic might actually be trash? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 2 months

Text

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away.

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk.

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in.

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on.

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away.

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway.

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure.

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit.

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove.

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders.

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice.

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with.

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become.

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home.

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized.

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last.

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life.

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down.

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore.

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears.

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee.

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat.

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else.

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger.

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes.

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans.

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone.

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing.

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore.

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time.

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it.

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions.

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun.

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes.

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line.

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say?

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye.

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well.

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs.

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup.

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove.

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve.

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk.

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists.

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor.

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions.

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.”

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life.

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you.

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.”

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life.

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town.

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet.

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark.

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest.

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited.

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?”

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.”

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.”

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.”

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window.

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it.

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans.

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his.

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.”

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper.

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument.

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together.

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together.

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer.

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.”

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat.

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans.

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning.

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone.

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you.

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname.

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself.

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths.

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.”

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap.

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.”

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near.

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.”

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face.

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand.

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself.

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.”

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine.

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body.

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door.

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus.

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession.

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself.

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #friends to lovers #steve rogers au #childhood best friend steve rogers #childhood best friend #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork

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5ummit · 9 months

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AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

#ao3 #ao3 stats #psa #my words #fandom #I doubt anyone is even going to read this but I needed to get it out of my system and at least try to stop this from spreading #if you know me #you know I get Big Mad about misinformation #don't take anything at face value #do your own research

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jaylaxies · 6 months

Text

NOW OR NEVER

PAIRING: spider-man!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, slight bondage, usage of nicknames, breeding.

SYNOPSIS: going around the city with your massive poster which said, ��Choke me, Spider-Man!’ was something you did for fun, not knowing that your dream might actually come true.

WC: 1.4k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, loves! this one was requested by my anonnie and i’ve also posted this as a mark fic before! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

“Shh, baby. Don’t want your parents to hear now, do we?”

You truly couldn’t believe that it was happening—that Spider-Man was in your room with his slender fingers wrapped ever so perfect around your throat.

You’ve always wanted this from the day you first saw him, on the day he saved a lift full of people from falling down and crashing to the ground. You were one of those who unfortunately got stuck inside the lift too, which was the traumatic onset of your tiny crush on him.

No one knew who was behind that mask, yet his suit clad figure was a sight to see, his build lean and slightly muscular, not to mention he smelled brilliant (a little something you gathered when he saved you).

To add to it, his ever so attractive voice always grasped everyone’s attention, you thought he was funny too, which is exactly why you ended up making a poster full of glitter saying:

Choke me, Spider-Man!

It was a silly joke, albeit you’d definitely be lying if you say you didn’t get wet dreams about the superhero, because you did. Detailed ones at that.

Maybe carrying the poster with you at all times was a stretch but you did it anyway, granted that your city was full of crimes and spotting Spider-Man was an easy task, which is why you proudly held up the poster in the crowd whenever you saw him, after he fought with the villain that is.

The people around you laughed, but it wasn’t mocking, it was more of an amused laugh, and you could have sworn you noticed spidey look your way, before swinging away, much to your dismay.

This went on a few times. You were practically waving the poster frantically when it was the fourth time, yet he didn’t pay you attention of any sort, leaving you dejected as you dragged yourself back home from Uni, chuckling at your state.

Crush on a superhero?

Pathetic.

He’s loved by countless people all over the world, what makes you think he’d have time to give you even a sliver of his attention when he’s so busy saving the world?

Clicking your tongue, you threw the crumbled poster in the trash can of your bedroom, dimming the lights as you sat down on your bed, ready to change into your nightwear before opting to sleep to take your mind off things.

Just then, a loud sound of knocking on your window caught your attention, which was funny considering you lived up on a pretty high floor in your apartment building. You thought that it must be a bird, still, you decided to open the curtains to check it out.

Shock would be an understatement to explain what you were feeling the second your eyes laid on the person right outside your window.

The reason for your sour mood, or rather, the reason you spent hours trying to ease the pent up frustration in you each night, moaning out with need, was hanging by your window.

“Oh god,” you breathed out, brain short circuiting for a few seconds before you shook your head, opening the windows for him to come in.

Who knew Spider-Man would actually care enough to notice you?

Then you realized just how awkward the situation was, and you didn’t have much to say anymore now that he was standing right in front of you, looking around as if he was inspecting your room.

“Spider man,” you breathed out, and he chuckled.

His attention was on you now, walking closer to you, “so, you’re the one who wanted to be choked by me,” he said smoothly, and you couldn’t help but shamelessly gawk at his figure, mouth watering at the sight.

“Uhm—I mean, holy fuck you’re actually here,” you tried to voice out your thoughts, but they were a mess, which only caused him to chuckle at your shocked state.

“Didn’t you want me here, baby?” He asked and you felt your knees buckling at the deep tone of his voice.

You took another step back, only to lose balance and trip. But good for you, your spidey was quick to shoot his web on your silky night blouse, pulling you close and right into his arms.

He smelled so good.

“Careful. We don’t want you hurting your pretty face,” he whispered, tracing his glove clad finger along your jaw, gripping your chin when he noticed how your body had gone still, “deep breaths, babe.”

“Are you gonna fuck me?” You asked, voice coming out in a low whine, eyes twinkling with hope.

He chuckled, pulling his mask up which had you bubbling with anticipation, you really wanted to see what he looked like. However, he stopped a little too soon for your liking, only exposing his lips, leaning in to mumble against your own.

“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you,” he whispers, a gasp leaving your lips as you pulled him closer into a rushed kiss.

He was quick to take over, kissing you harder as he pushed you down on your bed, you could feel his fang like canines biting down on your bottom lip, “undress, quick,” he ordered, and you fumbled while getting everything off your body.

Your cheeks were warm, your eyes on his figure, which was now devoid of his costume, faint abs and strong muscles on display for you, but your mouth practically salivated at the sight of his cock, thick and hard.

Just when you sat up to touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pushing them up your head and shooting webs to tie them, making sure they didn’t move.

You never knew you’d be into web-play but here you are, getting wet by being constrained by webs.

“Please,” you begged in hopes that he’d touch you, or do something, anything.

“So needy, aren’t you?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers caressing your cunt, collecting your wetness, “so wet already,” he smirked, “wanna be fucked all night, huh?” He asked, continuing working his fingers between your legs, arousal leaking from your cunt.

His other hand was wrapped up around your neck, fingers tightening enough for you to gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt lightheaded with the whole situation, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better.

He was so good with his fingers, thumb pads circling your clit while two digits plunged in and out of you, eliciting moans out of you.

“Shh,” he whispered, his hold around your neck tightening which caused you to open your mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to lean in and spit in your mouth, watching the glob travel down your tongue till you gulped it down, earning a praise out of him, “good girl.”

He pulled back right when your body started shaking with the orgasm building up in your lower abdomen, his hold on your neck loose to let you breathe some more before he took it to the next level.

He ran his lips down your neck, sucking harshly as he lined his cock to your eager folds, your expression blissful and your entrance so wet, it made it easy for him to bottom out, “so fucking pretty,” he groaned out.

His voice strained as he started fucking you into your mattress, his power was evident with how precise and hard his thrusts were. It was a lifetime opportunity for you, and you wished to savour every second of it as you wrapped your legs around his slender waist, pulling him even closer and deeper in your pussy.

He hit your spot over and over again, “cream my cock like a good girl, baby,” he rasped out, his own orgasm approaching.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, with his fingers still gripping your neck, the lack of air was evident but it somehow made you feel as if you were floating with unadulterated bliss around you as you finally reached your state of euphoria, coming undone on his cock, exactly when he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with yours as he emptied himself in you.

You whined when he pulled back, getting dressed after draining you, “you’re leaving?” You asked, frowning.

“Gotta save the world now, pretty,” he whispered, removing his webs from your wrists before pecking your lips and rushing out of the window, leaving you dazed.

Maybe making the poster wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

@jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia @haanigurl

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added!

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #kpop smut #enha smut #enhypen imagines

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3

Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm.

Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move.

“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time.

“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.”

As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple.

Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived.

A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside.

“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you.

The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.

Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.”

“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.”

You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest.

Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you.

You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.”

“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.”

Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him.

You nod, letting him take your injured hand.

“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?”

You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort.

You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach.

“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.”

You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow.

“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you.

Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius coo sympathetically, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair.

You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat.

“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.”

“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless.

“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.”

“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.”

You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile.

“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.”

James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well.

“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.”

“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?”

You blink at him. “Feel what?”

“Good.”

Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed.

“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.”

That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand.

“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?”

You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected.

“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?”

For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?”

Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.”

You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light.

Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.”

“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.”

“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.”

“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?”

“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.”

Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?”

You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out.

“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.”

“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.”

“Not you?” James teases.

Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.”

“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?”

“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.”

“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.”

That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.”

“There?” you echo.

Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly.

“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows.

“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.”

James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face.

“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.

It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder.

“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.”

Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.”

You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.”

You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe.

“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”

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theredcuyo · 3 months

Text

Little Dick (like, between his teen rebellion and actual gremlin child fase) wants a little sibbling after having a little summer job of babysitting his neighboor, Tim

Convincing Bruce turns out easier than he thought, but Alfred is unfaced to his pleas and denies any chance, so he and B work out a plan

They don't have a real plan (Bruce didn't have a plan when he adopted Dick to begin with) but during Patrol a few nights later, Robin finds a kid looking for food in the trash, gives him five dollars to actually buy something nice, takes a good look at him and goes "Yeah, this is brother material"

And after the kid comes back, he wonders if the rest could buy medicine for his mom, who wasn't feeling good that morning and 'fell sleep very very deeply'

A bit of panic takes over Dick, and the worse is the truth unfortunately for this boy, but it doesn't take away the chance for him to quickly get a brand new older brother

Alfred can't stop them, the kid needs a family

By the way, his name is Jason, he's still processing what just happened, but someone is feeding him now, that's good

Two years later, is Jason who wants a baby brother, and it just SO happens that as of late, when he goes with his brother to babysit their neighboor (When he feels like Dick might need company but not Bruce's, they're arguing a lot as of late) he starts to notice weird things, like, who besides them is taking care of him?

The kid also has trouble speaking, he read in a book that if babys don't get enough talk done to them they have trouble learning to speak. The kid's eyes also get teary if you say something like 'Sorry, forgot you were there for a second' even on accident.

When he snoops around the house during Tim's (And Dick's) nap time, that by the way, was hard to do because Tim likes sleeping between both of them, literally baby brother material, and he finds documents that state he's not had anyone come look after him save for them in the weekends since a year and a half ago he knows they have to intervene

And if that gets him the baby brother he wanted that's just added price to getting justice done!

Tim never really felt like he wanted another sibbling, it could be nice if he had one, You know? One that could help him scape Dick's hug hours or one just so Jason would stop calling him a baby, but he knew better than to ask for anything.

Lucky for him, the league had him covered, and yeah, he wasn't exactly allowed to hack into their base, B said it could be dangerous, but he was curious of the possibility and if by chance he saw a little boy running around thanks to the security cameras, then it was good, wasn't it?

The league wasn't a place for a child to grow in, Batman, we have to intervene!

It wasn't just because he'd be the perfect little sibbling material, pfff, of course not...

Just look at him, this one comes trained already!

Yeah, Tim was happy.

|||

Dunno what i just did, but i do love those the kids get into the family earlier fics ngl

#batman au #batfamily #Batman #good dad bruce wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne

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sandwhitches · 2 months

Note

hii! can i have a cherry popsicle abt suna confessing to the reader but he’s super nervous?? thanks so much! feel free to request smth from me if you’d like to do a little exchange:)

a/n: u must be a mind reader because i’ve LITERALLY been working on this exact prompt omg!!! it’s longer than a drabble (lowkey really long so i just formatted it like a fic☠️) because i already had most of it written when u requested so enjoy :3!! also u BET im gonna send u a request yay!!!

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨)

desc: suna is an idiot and seeks the help of an unlikely (and annoying, in his humble opinion) ally to help him confess to you

content: fem. reader, language, suna’s little sister guest star!!!!! (i love that he canonically has a little sister; she’s like middle school age in this ughhhh suna as a big brother makes me want to combust), suna pining for you like a big stupid idiot

wc: 1.5k

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

Suna Rintaro knows two things for certain: firstly, he’s absolutely in love with you, and secondly, he hasn’t a clue what to do about it. It was easier for him to come to terms with the latter, seeing as he’d spent most of his teenage years rolling his eyes at mushy displays of affection and taking the piss out of his friends who seemed to have traded all necessary brain function in exchange for falling in love.

To him, falling in love this early on in life was as worthless and cheap as the chocolate he watched be gifted every Valentines Day; eventually, they’ll eat what they like and throw what they don’t in the trash, he’s seen it done countless times before, and he’d be stupid to let something like that happen to him.

Still, here he is, knee-deep and sinking even deeper as the moments go by, he thinks falling in love might be like being pushed into quicksand. As odd as it is for him to admit it to himself, he doesn’t mind it at all.

There’s a certain giddiness that can’t be awarded any time other than when you talk to him. He spends the rest of the afternoon and evening thinking about your conversations, wondering if he said something wrong, thinking of all the ways he could have prolonged the exchange, and smiling fondly when he remembers he managed to make you laugh three times (a new record for him).

“What’s with that face?” Atsumu had interrupted Suna during one of the breaks at volleyball practice, his idiotic grin on full display in Rintaro’s face. Had he really been smiling just from thinking about you?

Suna had mumbled something that sounded like an awkward mixture of shut up and fuck off, quick to storm away in hopes that Atsumu didn’t catch the violent reddening of his cheeks. This is not good, he thinks, love can’t really be this hard to ignore, can it?

He’s put up a hard battle against this exact scenario, and he’s afraid you might have unknowingly thrown a wrench right into his fine tuned machine of a brain. If this really was a battle, he’s fine raising a white flag in order to get to make you laugh more often, for the slight possibility of getting to know if your lips really feel as soft as they appear, and the hope that one day he might forget all about what it was like not to be entirely in love with you.

This is the nail in the coffin, his final surrender. Being in love really must make people stupid, because he’s nervously tugging his collar as he knocks on his younger sister's door. She chirps a surprised “Come in!” and Rintaro struggles to actually reach for the door, consumed with the reality of the fact that this really is where he’s ended up in his life. Great.

His sister gives him an incredulous look when she realizes it had been him who knocked, eyeing him suspiciously, “What do you want?” She mumbles in confusion, setting her pencil down. Suna parts his lips, mouth running dry, then sighs loudly, shaking his head.

“What is it?” She inquires, sudden agitation laced in her tone. Rintaro looks at the ground, too embarrassed to see the inevitable shift in her expression when he asks, “What’s the right way to ask out a girl?”

A silence follows that isn’t long enough in Suna’s opinion, quickly cut off by a loud bark of laughter, “No way! You’re asking me for advice?”

Here’s another thing Suna Rintaro knew for certain, there’s no word that describes the extent in which his younger sister is the bane of his existence.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Suna mutters self-consciously. This probably was a bad idea in theory, but as much as it pains him to admit it, this is his last resort. He knows next to nothing about how to be normal about talking to you, let alone confess; something is better than nothing in this situation, and he swears to himself that he will make sure he never has to ask his sister for advice like this again.

Love, when it comes to you, has to be a one and done thing. He’s sincerely praying to whoever is watching over him that he never has to feel the terror of confessing to anyone else again. It just has to be you.

That’s why he’s here, standing about as stiff as a marble statue as he pushes a shaky finger to your doorbell, drawing his hand back swiftly as if it burned him. In a spurt of unexplainable confidence, Suna had asked if you wanted to hang out on Saturday, conveniently leaving out the part where he desperately wished for it to be more than just a hang out.

Earlier that morning, he’d been so close to chickening out that his sister, of all people, angrily dragged him to the nearest grocery store with a scowl.

“Don’t get her roses, it’s way too soon for that kind of flower!” She snapped, swatting Suna’s hand away from the bouquet.

“Daisies? Seriously? Are you a serious?”

It would be an utter lie if Suna did not admit that he had no idea what his sister was talking about. If love really is this complex, maybe he’s not the right person for it. Still, he finds himself lingering on the face you make when you laugh, the way you’re the first person that he never got sick of texting into the early hours of the morning, and how you’re the only person that could ever make him reconsider that puppy love and crushes might mean something more than he’d given them credit for.

After all, the way he felt for you is what people call love, isn’t it?

Suna grips the assorted bouquet of colorful flowers that his sister had deemed good enough, listening to the sound of your front door clicking open. He’s doomed, this is a bad idea, and yet it’s the only thing he wants to do.

How’d you get to be so beautiful? Suna wonders that a lot, in fact, it makes him angry that you’d just waltzed into his life like you did. It’s absolutely unfair, he was a dead man before he could even put up a fight. Falling in love with you was unavoidable from the beginning, but he seems to be just okay with that.

“Oh!” Your eyes go wide, nonplussed by the bouquet in his hands, “Flowers for me?” You snicker, your laughter is probably the worst thing that could possibly happen right now, it makes everything ten times harder to do.

“Yeah, um-” Rintaro sputters, nervously darting his eyes around for the answer to your question. He knew the answer. You knew the answer.

Hastily, he holds it out for you to take, which you do without hesitation, “What’s the occasion?”

Suna Rintaro knows two more things for certain: firstly, he’ll die if he doesn’t tell you how he feels, and secondly, you’re smart enough to have already surmised exactly what the occasion is.

Everything his sister told him, advisories of “That’s too creepy!” and “Don’t be so blunt about it!” all fly to the back of his mind in exchange for the only things he can really manage to say.

“Well,” Suna starts, cringing at the way his voice cracks, he knows this is about to be the world’s worst confession.

“I, um, I got these for you because I think you’re really pretty,” you watch in bewilderment as his cheeks gradually saturate into a bright red, “but, that’s not just it!” Suna blurts, “You’re also really smart, and funny, and you’re probably the only person I could sit and talk to for hours without getting annoyed by-” Now, Suna is blatantly breaking the third piece of advice his sister had given him, don’t ramble.

“And, I really look forward to talking to you, even if it’s about boring stuff, I still want to hear you talk all day. Which, saying that out loud is really embarrassing for me, but, not because I’m embarrassed of you, I’m just embarrassed that I’m so-”

“Suna-” you interrupt, the cellophane wrap of the bouquet you held crackles as you lower it to see him better. You watch, partially in amusement, while the boy across from you struggles to comprehend everything he just said.

Suna is done for when it comes to you, this was priorly understood, so why is it so hard to put it into words if it’s all he ever thinks about? “I like you a lot…is that okay?” He finally sighs, pale green eyes flickering up to search for a silent answer in the faltering of your expression.

“That’s okay.” You nod, dumbfounded by the sudden declaration, each word was spoken with more confidence than anything you’ve ever heard him say before.

“Cool.” Suna nods dumbly.

“Cool.”

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro #suna haikyuu #suna rintarou #haikyuu x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #suna rintaro haikyuu #☀️.summer event 2k24 #🍓.suna

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orbitsaturn · 15 days

Text

"actually?" "yeah, actually."

─ in which you accidentally bump (fall) into someone you might know in an indoor climbing gym

"his arms look really meaty..."

modern au! kinich x reader abt 2.1k words!

final part of part 1 this can be read as a standalone!

your user is sparkling toots in this fic

──────────────────────

"I'M DODGING I'M DODGING!!" you yell over the call, hastily pressing multiple keys and moving your mouse quickly. it's been a while since you played with your friend, almightydragonlord, yes, cheesy username. but still, you enjoyed playing with him as he makes everything easier, really, EVERYTHING easier. he helped you with your builds the first time you met him, albeit much to your refusal (felt insulted when his so-called lizard, 'ajaw' called your characters trash) (it was actually ajaw but you refuse to believe how a lizard can somehow spell out the words l o s e r).

anyways!

the only response you can hear from the other side of the call is loud typing, followed by a brief. "mhm" from the almightydragonlord. he's quiet, the only time he really speaks to you is when he's giving you constructive criticism or the rare times he chuckles when you die during boss fights. which you respond by angrily yelling at him.

"toots, behind you." snapping out of your thinking, you quickly dodge the incoming attack hurled behind your character by the boss you both were fighting. with one more quick setup from the almightydragonlord it was instantly over, the huge numbers brought by his characters becoming more and more like a regular sight for you. welp! at least your daily boss fighting is done for the day.

"dragonlord I'm gonna go now! i'll see you later?"

"mhm, see you"

"as curt as ever i see! bye!!"

and with that, you ended the call. pulling off your headphones and doing your daily routine to hang out with one of your friends later in the day.

───

"hi mualani!" you waved enthusiastically to your friend who was at a distance. she also waved back with the signature smile that she boasts.

as you make your way towards her you feel a sense of suspicion by the seemingly mischievous smile on her face.

"guess what we're doing today!"

"what?"

"rock climbing!" mualani says, clapping her hands together eagerly.

"we're going rock climbing?!" you cried, quickly whipping your head to look over at the outfit you wore today, which was clearly not appropriate for some activity. furthermore, you've never rock-climbed before except for that time in elementary in the local playground.

wait.

you did have some experience in rock climbing. maybe you should just rely on your memories from your elementary school days! but that was years ago.. and your outfit might hinder you from movements that are essential for climbing.

"don't worry. i got some extra clothes in the back of my car." mualani winks upon seeing your worried demeanor "also it's indoors! so we won't be climbing on real rocks! haha!" she pats your back reassuringly.

upon hearing that you breath a sigh of relief. "oh thank goodness" you say dramatically clasping your hands together. you knew you'd actually be fried if it really was real rock climbing. after the brief chat you both share you quickly make your way to her car door, quickly sitting down and buckling up before the car starts.

always. remember. to. buckle. up.

was the mantra you always repeated before getting into a car when you were young. nowadays putting on the seatbelt was just muscle memory for you. whenever you get into a car you put on your seatbelt without thinking. a necessary habit honestly.

the ride was short, it only took a few minutes to arrive at the indoor climbing gym. funny enough you saw a car with the plate "drgnlrd" parked near the gym. who the hell names their license plate like that?! it's also the same name as the username your friend online has.

well, it's probably just a coincidence!

as you both head into the gym with no expectations whatsoever you were instantly baffled by the sheer height of the

fake rock climbing thingy?

you don't know what it's called but you do know you'll be able to conquer it. i mean, you weren't called the ruler of the playground for nothing! you were dubbed "sonic" by your peers back in elementary for climbing super fast on the rock climbing part in the local playground near your house.

it's safe to say you might be the best (worst) one in the room!

as you head your way to the changing rooms in the gym you notice a familiar figure high up on the rock.

"his arms look really meaty..."

"what are you looking at? let's go so we can climb sooner!" a voice from behind you quickly snaps you out of your thoughts.

oh my god. why were you even thinking about how some random dude's muscles look tasty?? get a grip!

as the both of you head inside you remember the time when almightydragonlord sent a video of him skydiving. yes skydiving, falling out of a helicopter type of skydiving. the area he was skydiving at looked really familiar too!

wait.

familiar?

as you retrace back to the video he sent you, the feeling of dread forms in the pit of your stomach.

lush green trees, tall hilltops, and the distinctive sight of saurians.

lush green trees...

tall hilltops.

SAURIANS?!

NATIVE TO NATLAN SAURIANS?!

HE LIVES IN NATLAN?!?

BUT YOU LIVE IN NATLAN TOO??

ugh! you even shouldn't be thinking about him when your supposed to be conquering the climbing wall soon!

"ugh.. let's not think about this today..." you grumble, quickly putting on the clothes mualani handed you earlier. as you make your way outside the room mualani is already there waiting for you,

"hi!! ready partner?" she smirks at you, dragging you to the rock wall (which looks even more intimidating close up) that you have to conquer.

gulp.

NO!! you can do this. you weren't called the ruler of the playground for nothing. you can conquer this. maybe think of it as a necessary level to beat! plus you have a harness attached to you right now! so you won't wall to your death if you fall. and! if the harness fails you know who to sue to get money.

with one more final nervous gulp, you start conquering (climbing) the wall. when you look up you already see mualani way ahead of you. oh dear, looks like you have a time limit to this level.

"wait!!" you cried, starting to climb the wall, with ease actually, this was way easier than you thought!

"heh. I might actually be the ruler of the climbing gym now!" as you smirk to yourself you notice some weird white powder on mualani's hands? "mualani, what's that stuff on your hands?" you yell out above, "oh! this is climbing chalk, it helps strengthen the grip of your hands if they usually sweat." she yells back.

sweat

you know that feeling when you're suddenly aware of how your hands produce sweat and it sweats right after? yeah, it's sweating right now when you realize your hands have the function to sweat.

"oh uh! that's fun" you reply nervously, the word 'sweat echoing throughout your head, the feeling of your sudoriferous (sweat) glands activating within your hands right now, it isn't mandatory to lather that white stuff when you're climbing, so it should be fine...

right?

yeah no, it's not fine you can feel your hands sweating right now, loosening your grip, BUT,

it's not mandatory to lather that stuff so...

"hellloooo!! up from above! hurry up!" mualani's voice snaps you out of your thoughts once again as you look up in response, "we're almost to the top y'know!" she yells making you realize that you were really high up.

and that makes you sweat even more.

but you prevail! you grab onto the next wall hold, and the next, but the feeling of your grip getting weaker every second was not concerning at all! (lie) but you were almost there! you're about to beat mualani and claim the title of the ruler of the climbing gym!

"watch i'm going to win," you say confidently, but in that moment your grip was already weak, weak enough to make your hand slip.

the last thing you see is mualani's shocked expression, followed by one of relief and confusion..?

...

a hand quickly snakes around your waist, making sure you don't fall to your inevitable doom.

"you good?"

a familiar voice brushes against your ear, your stomach dropping. a foreign feeling of heat rushing to your face due to embarrassment.

as you look at the person who saved you, you are instantly dumbified.

a beautiful mixture of green and orange meets your eyes, with long, thick, dark lashes that compliment the brightness of his orbs, creating a stark contrast that makes it difficult to look away.

wait.

beautiful amber green eyes with dark fluffy hair.

no way.

is he..?

"almightydragonlord?" you say breathlessly, staring at his face shamelessly.

"oh?" his arm unconsciously tightens around your waist, a look of surprise painting his face with the utterance of his online username. in a few seconds his face begins light up as he realizes your identity, "sparklingtoots?" a subconscious smile making it's way to his features, which in turn causes you to gawk even more at him.

oh dear. that smile is deadly.

"t-thank you?" you say confused, blinded by his smile. gosh, he was cuter in person, instead of falling to your death maybe you'll die by the brightness of that smile instead.

wait.

shouldn't you be falling right now?

you slowly look down at your waist.

a hand.

his hand.

the hand you complimented earlier without realizing it was him.

snaked around your waist to prevent you from falling, the proximity between you two was worse, your left side touching his right, his fingers gripping your waist tightly to secure you onto him, the feeling of his forearm around your stomach firm.

oh archons, he's built too?

"u-um, aren't you tired?! shouldn't you let go?! uh! I have a harness don't worry! and I must be heavy!" you say nervously, the close proximity between you two was not helping your conversational skills whatsoever!

"oh sorry, it was on instinct, I'll let go if you want to" he slowly releases his hold on you, careful to not make you drop unexpectedly.

wait, wait, wait, wait.

you're still really high up! you might actually faint if you start free-falling!

you instantly grab his hand, positioning it back on your waist again. "wait! actually please keep holding on, i think it'll be terrifying once i start swinging down." you look up at him, eyes that basically read, 'please don't drop me or else I might actually pass out.'

"you think i'd drop you without any warnings?" he looks at you confused, his hand keeping a firm grip on you once again to prevent you from falling. "i mean... you're carrying a full-grown person right now, so you might claim that you won't drop me on purpose but i don't know if your hand is gonna agree!" you say worriedly in response.

"don't worry i'm strong." he replies, trying to reassure your worries "do you see my pocket? there's some climbing chalk in it, use your hand to get some."

"uh, which pocket?! the front or back?"

"any."

you hesitantly reach into the front pocket of his pants, grabbing a handful of chalk which you quickly lather all over your hands. "now use one of your hands to grab onto one of the holds closest to you" he instructs, which you quickly follow. as you grab onto a yellow hold and then grab onto another one until you are free from his hold, you realize just how much your grip has improved, that you should've just slathered on some climbing chalk before you started climbing to prevent this whole fiasco from happening...

"thank you! um, almigh-"

"kinich."

"oh! thank you the almighty dragon lord kinich!" you tease. in response, he lets out a brief chuckle that you've always heard on the calls you had together.

"i didn't know you lived in natlan!" you exclaim, slowly making your way down the wall. "i thought you knew?" he replies confused, keeping watch of you to make sure he'll catch you before you fall again. "shhh.. i know you sent me that skydiving video months ago but i just realized until today! also, do you do that stuff often..? i mean... you had no hesitation jumping off the helicopter!" you ask him in curiosity, it's strange! most people would hesitate for a bit before jumping off! but this dude didn't even look worried at all!

"oh yeah, i do a lot of stuff like that, like bungee jumping, mountain climbing, sky di-"

"HUH?!" you look at him in disbelief. is he one of those adrenaline junkies?!

"i know most people are shocked, but I find extreme sports enjoyable." he says, looking at you with a gentle smile.

oh dear, you don't think you'll get used to that smile anytime soon.

as you both make your way down, you learn more about the almightydra- kinich, how his lizard ajaw was really the one who made the nasty comments about your characters (which you still don't believe), and how many extreme sports he does, which was a lot. and mualani also descended down quickly to make sure you were okay! as you near the start of the climbing wall you swear you're gonna kiss the ground once you make it back down.

"oh my archons." you collapse on the floor, heaving a sigh of relief, at least you know now to make sure you have emergency climbing chalk in your pockets... you really should invest in some if you're planning to climb more in the future...

as you are laying down on the strangely comforting gym floor you feel a cold object against your forehead. "are you free after this?" a voice above you says as you look up to see kinich leaning over you, water bottle in hand, pressing it against you. just as you were about to respond you were quickly cut off by another voice above you. "yeah she's free!" mualani chirps above you, giving a thumbs up to kinich which she then looks down to wink at you. "I'll be going now. make sure to tell me everything after," who then looks down to whisper at you, giving you a mischievous grin before walking away.

kinich then drops down beside you, turning his head to face you.

"lunch with me today?" he asks, which in turn you grin, "are you asking out on a date? the almighty dragon lord kinich! asking me out on a date! can you believe it?!" you tease,

"and what if i was?" he responds, his amber-green eyes meeting with yours.

"h-huh? actually?" you say surprised, taken aback by his forwardness. you knew he was curt but you didn't expect it to translate over to real life! "yeah, actually." he stands up, offering his hand to you. you grab his hand as he helps you stand up before facing him.

"also, don't worry, i don't do extreme sports with my car." he flashes you a grin.

──────────────────────

A/N!! OH MY GOSH HELLO EVERYONE. thank u all for the support from part 1, I hope you guys liked this one as much as the previous one!! I tried really hard to not make kinich ooc... (I hope I didn't..) I looked up his lore and stuff and found out he liked doing extreme sports! and the skydiving from the previous one I wrote was pretty unexpected BUT!! akshually (nerd emoji) "As a core member of the Scions of the Canopy tribe, Kinich is fond of extreme sports, and is said by his companion K'uhul Ajaw to have plunged headfirst off a cliff and lived to see it (LIKE!! THATS BASICALLY SKY DIVING!!)" quote the genshin wiki!! anyways I hope you enjoyed reading this.HAVE A GOOD DAY OR NIGHT!!

#kinich x reader #kinich x you #genshin kinich #genshin kinich x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact kinich x reader #k'uhul ajaw #ajaw

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ruruvxz · 8 days

Note

what is making out with newjeans Minji would be like ? Oneshot idea

“DRAIN ME”

Roommate!Kim Minji x Law Major!Reader

↳synopsis: College was hard enough especially ever since your new roommate moved in with a high and mighty attitude. Always berating you for your life choices and the people you constantly surround yourself with; she was the epitome of annoying. But you couldn’t help but be… enamored by her in some weird way.

↳cw: classic roommate troupe, swearing, overachieving, making out, Minji is stuck up, reader is also stuck up, both kinda annoy me, pure fluff, slightly sexual themes

↳wc:2.6k

a/n: how does… how does someone write a kissing scene what the fuck heuahhfhhhhh, i was a little bit too embarrassed to write this. kinda halfassed but idk what else to add anther … Also this is the 5TH rewrite for this Minji fic im trying to cope with the news that they might disband rn.

Harvard was hard enough to get to, especially with the scholarship you broke your back for, no one deserved to be here more than you. Needless to say, you found it awfully annoying whenever, Kim Minji, your roommate who was an undergraduate in the arts section, would belittle your talents—always having snarky to say when you couldn't understand the lecture, and insisting that her life was far more complicated than yours. Not to mention how much of a slacker she was during house tasks, often refusing to do any chores even if she was the sole factor in the apartment was a mess.

Minji often rebutted all your complaints with the same excuse stating that "she shouldn't have to help because your friends were always over, and that they can do it." Which wasn't all that false, you did have someone over almost every day, and you knew she didn't like them because of how loud they were, but that's what made it fun. Seeing the scowl on her face whenever she opened the door another batch (of completely different people) walked in with no remorse. Or whenever she avoided talking to any of them because she simply hated being around them. A stern believer that people like you and all the people who accompanied you were plastic and fake.

It wasn't until she called them out to you that you reached your boiling point. "None of them actually like you Y/N, how do you expect every single person to actually fuck with you like that, let alone the hundreds of people you constantly have over." She spat out, reaching her hand out to grab the trash your guest left all over the living room, Minji didn't even have the curtsey to look up at you while she spoke.

"What is your problem, Kim." You scowled as you grabbed the empty beer cans; shoving them into the black plastic bag you were lugging around. To be fair Minji was far nicer than you thought, even if you were the one who threw the party without her knowledge, she patiently camped out in her room, only coming out once it ended to clean up beside you. It wasn't all that out of character since she was the nicest one between the both of you, always offering to help anyone in need, for example, right now. Minji was somehow so endearing in her weird way, that you almost felt bad taunting her every single moment you could. I mean, she reciprocated the banter, so who really is at fault here?

Minji just scoffed as she pushed her glasses back up from the bridge of her nose, she was about to say something before cutting herself off with a heavy sigh. "Nothin— nothing, they just..." She slurred looking up at your scrunched face before looking back down, continuing to throw trash into the bag. "Y'know what— never mind, forget what I said," Minji mumbled, looking back at her annoyed before picking up a pillow and chucking it at her. She let out a soft yelp before looking up at you, ready to attack Minji couldn't help but notice how you broke out into laughter once the pillow collided with her face.

"Hey, what was that for!" Minji scowled as she dropped the trash bag next to her knees, you, being you, continued to laugh harder as her expression tensed. She grabbed another pillow from the couch and flung it at you, hitting your shoulder with a heavy thud. "Woah! What the!" You bite back rubbing your shoulder with your arm in pain, not realizing she would throw it too hard she reached her hand out, not before she laughed her ass off. "Hah— I'm so sorry—" Minji said before bursting out laughing as well, grabbing the pillow you threw at her from the ground and placing it back neatly on the couch.

Laughing at her action, "Why are you saying sorry? Aren't I the one who threw the first hit?" grabbing the pillow she threw, you dropped it haphazardly on the couch and walked away from her. "Not that." Minji cackled as she fixed the couch again, "I mean, yeah..." she cut her thought off "What I meant to get at, is I'm sorry for the other thing I said."

You stopped cleaning up the trash from the floor and peeked your head up, firstly why was she apologizing for anything, secondly, out of all people, she was apologizing to you. "Uhm, I'm sorry too I guess..." You rubbed your nape uncomfortably, taking your gaze off of her, "Y'know, for everything." Sighing you continued, feeling terrible because most of the stress she had coming back home was due in fact how horrible of a roommate you've been. "I haven't been— the best." It hurt a part of your ego to say that, as out of people you were apologizing back to your art freak of a roommate, Kim Minji.

"Thank you for acknowledging that Y/N." Minji exhaled as she looked back on all the times your bare presence had been obnoxious towards her. Despite understanding how dreadful you've become towards her, you still couldn't let that slide, who was she to talk like that towards you anyway? "Hey!" Was the only that could come out of your mouth, until Minji eventually cut you off. "I'm being honest Y/N, I'm glad you know, and that's not in a sarcastic way whatsoever."

The way both of you stood slightly as you continued your cleaning task was unbearably awkward, trying to figure out what to say next after that comment was gruesome. It finally ended when you had to bright idea to turn a new leaf with your roommate, could you go through your whole college experience hating someone you lived with? And to be fair she wasn't all that bad, she cleaned up to herself, she was mild-mannered, and she didn't actively seek conflict. (unlike you.) "Ahem... so Minji you busy after this?" You asked as you tied the black plastic bag and leaned it against the wall.

She followed in your footsteps as she chucked the last few beer bottles into her bag, tying the note protectively tight and chucking it aside. "I have an anthropology exam to study for..." She thoughtfully answered, you pouted at the thought that Kim Minji, of all people, was going to turn you down. "But that's in a few days, so I guess I'm free?" She moved across from you, heading to the kitchen to wash her hands, coming back to talk to you face to face. "Well, uhm, do you want to watch a movie or something— like to get to know each other... or something." You interrogated, trying your best to be nonchalant about the whole thing. "Sure, that couldn't hurt." She shrugged her shoulders as she made her way to the couch, and you soon followed behind her.

Needless to say, the whole interaction was more awkward than the both of you apologizing to one another. The movie picking was terrible as you both seemingly couldn't agree on what to watch, finally landing on The Idea of You. During the beginning, part felt as if you were having a dopamine cleanse, everything was so oddly boring, and without having any form of enjoyment like stress eating popcorn, you were going insane. It wasn't until the first kissing scene of the film that things got interesting, you were so bored you could only find entertainment from making fun of her expressions throughout. This scene in particular made you more intrigued by her as she was blushing madly while watching the protagonist deeply kiss the main lead, almost as if she's never experienced that herself.

"Pst, Minji." You leaned into her, jolting as your head hovered next to her shoulder "You good? You look like you're bugging out." She looked at you as you laughed quietly, still focused on the movie, only taking a small gaze at her as you leaned away.

"What." She scoffed, covering her face with her hand, "You're crazy. Just watch the fucking movie."

"Alright, just saying." You chuckle as you lean forward, pretending to go back to being 'interested' in the movie.

As the movie reached the peak of its raunchiest moments, Minji failed to hide her blush more and more, having trouble focusing as she stared down at your leaning posture and back at the movie. She failed to focus on the actors, finally reaching her breaking point, "What is with this movie, what is the whole point of recording a whole scene like this..." She muttered loud enough for you to hear. You gave her a noisy laugh, before leaning back up and resting your back on the cushions. "Dunno, maybe that's what does good nowadays— speaking of which, why don't you ever invite people over to y'know..."

"To what?" She scoffed, folding her arms and looking back at you, clearly offended by the insinuation that she was a geeky dirtbag who had the inability to attract suitors. "Not everyone's like you Y/N." Minji insulted, coming back a little more sleazy than intended.

"Oh? And what does that mean?" You pouted, stretching your neck wondering what snarky comment she would say next. "Nothing, I didn't mean it like that, I just hate when people bring that up." She took back her words quickly, turning her head away from you and back at the movie ahead, watching the two actors absolutely go at it. "Makes me feel like I haven't accomplished everything I 'should've already accomplished', catch my drift?"

"Ah, so you think that just because you haven't done anything inherently explicit it feels like you're less than an adult?"

"Woah, that was a quick evaluation, how'd you get that?"

"I mean, I do minor in psychodynamic psychology, maybe that's why? Hah… Sorry didn't wanna sound like a major nerd there, but I don't think you hold base your opinion on yourself over something you can't do at the moment." You spoke, turning your head towards her as she studied you, looking at inspecting every single one of your facial features before snapping out of the trance she was in. “I guess, well if it means anything, you’d ace that course if you kept up with those assumptions.” You both chuckle loudly at her comment, not noticing how both of you are slowly leaning closer to one another.

Minji was closer to your face, the tip of her nose colliding with yours as she inched your lips to hers, the soft huffs as she glanced down at you before finally interlocking your mouths together were exhilarating. Her touch was soft and hungry, she wanted to conquer every part of your lips; not wanting this moment to slip her by, she reached out and grabbed the back of your head gently. Pushing you farther down her lips, Minji felt herself getting lost in you, her eyes squeezed shut as she was in a deep state of euphoria. Before pulling you away from her, she slid her hand off your cheek and back, creating distance.

Her heavy breathing was apparent as she tried to gain composure, stunned by her actions she let out a meek cough, staring straight into your soul to gain back any confidence left within her. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me." Minji tittered, pulling away fully her hands gripping the section of denim on her thighs, you didn't know what was going through her head right now as she fumbled her gaze away from yours. It took a long moment for Minji to open back up, only muttering a few words before clamming up again "I wouldn't blame you if you ended up moving out—"

She couldn't continue as her breath sharpened and took focus on how your hands rested on top of hers, gently rubbing her fingertips, taking a count of how soft she felt under your touch. Smiling, you answered back, confused as to why you would ever do such a thing (despite despising her moments ago, and being quite literally on the verge of signing your lease termination to get away from her) "Why would I?"

Minji was astonished by your sudden change in attitude because if she were to ever be this raw and genuine towards you any time before this, you'd curse her out and avoid any contact after. This was different, you seemed so... empathetic and sweet, it made her heart thump out of her chest, staring at your lips was not making it any better for her. She lacked any self-restraint as she interconnected your lips with hers once more, with much more haste. Minji yearning for your touch, pitifully grabbed onto your hands, holding them tightly with a slight shake.

Despite doing much more sinister things with other people, you felt as if you were flung back to high school and having your first kiss, it was all so electrifying. You didn't want to admit to yourself that you were enjoying this a little more than she was, but gosh, does this woman know what she's doing? From her timid (even borderline, loser-ish) personality, you wouldn't expect her to be dancing her tongue with yours. "For something oddly explicit, she's very delicate..." you wondered to yourself. Finally taking charge, you pull your hands away from hers, Minji pulls back regretfully, questioning why you stopped holding her.

It wasn't until you cupped her cheeks with both your hands and pulled her down on the couch, that she finally got a hint. Minji's cheeks burned up, she was able to rest her elbows to leverage herself up only to be met with your face inches away from hers. She was stunned by the visual you pinned her against and was unable to speak as you kissed the tip of her nose, anticipating more only to be cut off by you pushing yourself off of her. “Woah! Okay, let’s end that there today.” You cut yourself off, not wanting your relationship to be another victim of hookup culture, knowing that you’d be stuck with her for the next few months.

“What…” She furrowed her eyebrows, her cheeks still flushed with a pink hue, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d want to continue, this, with you. But I don’t want the consequences of being in an unhealthy, uncomfortable, and unethical relationship with my roommate, whom I was getting closer to.” You coughed, realizing how fast you were speaking right now, Minji who was still under you processed everything you were spewing out. “So what I’m getting at, is that instead of wanting to sleep with me… you’d rather just have me as company first?”

“Correct, unlike anyone I’ve been with, I’d like to get to know you first before committing to anything that sexual.” You nodded, pulling yourself off of her and sitting back normally on the couch “Not because I don’t want to, I just wrong want to take it too far.” Sheepishly admitting as you watched her sit back down next to you, a bit embarrassed by the situation. “Truly what I want to take away from this, and what I took away from spending this time with you, even if it was fairly short, was to get to know you as you. To take in what you’re capable of and understand if you can handle someone like me.” Minji stared at you in awe, the complete shift from a prudish foulmouthed popular campus student, who couldn’t barely hold her own emotions, was now so prim and proper.

Minji wondered if maybe it was her who did that, or maybe that’s how you were this whole time, but it took one day to bring that out of you. Whatever it was, she didn’t want this moment to slip by her! “Hmm, well then, take what you want.”

#idol x female reader #idol x reader #female reader #gxg #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #girl group imagines #minji imagines #kim minji imagines #kim minji fic #kim minji x female reader #kim minji x reader #newjeans fic #Minji fic #Newjeans pls don’t disband im tweaking #newjeans x you #newjeans smau #newjeans ff #minji x reader

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benispunk · 23 days

Text

Good Company

logan howlett x reader

hello!!! guess who's back with a new story...I'm actually a bit nervous about it because I haven't (fully) written a reader insert fic in so long and I don't even know if it's a good depiction of the characters😭 anyway keep in mind that it was hard to write that, English is not my first language, and that I also want to write more, but I'm kind of shy around here. Okay enough about me. Enjoy!!

Wade worries that he’s seriously messed up with Logan, thinking he’s done something so bad that Logan might actually want to destroy him. Unsure of what went wrong, he turns to Y/n, Logan’s girlfriend, for advice.

TW: language, and Wade Wilson I guess.

Y/n was enjoying a quiet evening at her apartment, curled up on her couch with a book, when she heard loud knocks on the door. It was so insistent that she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, already suspecting who it was.

She opened the door to find Wade standing there, with a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other.

« Wade? » She raised an eyebrow. « What are you doing here? »

The man in question grinned brightly, shoving the pizza box toward her face as if it were an offering from a royal subject. « Surprise! I come in peace with gifts, for you, your majesty. I know, I know, you’re probably thinking ‘why is my most handsome friend standing at my door on this particular Friday evening, when I could be enjoying some alone time’- but here’s the thing, I was in the neighborhood, and I needed an excuse to come and see you, sunshine. »

Y/n’s skepticism deepened, her eyebrow arching even higher. « You were in the neighborhood? »

He shrugged, unbothered by the disbelief in her voice. « Fine, I was bored and I needed to see you and get away from the apartment. »

She frowned slightly, trying to figure out if there was more to this visit than he was letting on. « Alright, Wade. Come on in. »

Wade didn’t need a second invitation. He strolled into the apartment, setting the pizza and beer on the coffee table before flopping down on the couch with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. Y/n followed, sitting beside him, her curiosity piqued.

« Okay, spill it. What’s going on? » Y/n asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

Wade cracked open a beer, took a long sip, and then let out a dramatic sigh. « First, I did really miss you and I’m so happy to see you »

Y/n softened at that, a small smile playing on her lips. « I’m happy to see you too, Wade. But what is it? »

« Second… » Wade’s usual bravado faltered slightly as he searched for the right words. « You know how Logan’s got that permanent scowl like he’s auditioning for ‘Grumpiest Man Alive’? Lately, though, it feels like he’s been directing all that grumpiness at me. I’m used to him being grumpy—kind of comes with the territory—but now it’s like he’s gone from ‘mildly annoyed’ to ‘seriously, get out of my sight.’ »

He paused, looking down at the beer in his hand, his fingers fidgeting with the label. « And I know I’m an asshole and I annoy him every single minute of his life- like a sugar rush and a headache all rolled into one- but he’s been kind of on the verge of trashing down the place all because of one stupid joke. So I’ve been trying, or at least I think so, to be less…the annoying bitch that I am, but I feel like he’s getting worse with me? I’m trying to laugh it off, but honestly, it’s kind of eating at me, Y/n. You’re pretty much the Logan-whisperer—got any insights? »

Y/n’s expression softened at Wade’s revelation. She reached over and squeezed his arm gently. « Logan’s got a lot on his mind and, as you may know, he doesn’t know how to deal with that. And I think that, because he doesn't know how to express all of those things, and the fact that it takes a lot for him to open up, he might be pushing you away. He did the same thing with me at the beginning of our relationship. It was fuckin’ hard to deal with but I couldn’t let him do that. »

« Yeah, but your his girl. It's different. What if he decides he’s done with me? I mean, who else is gonna put up with my charming personality and endless movie references? » Wade’s attempt at humor fell flat, his unease still evident.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head.

« Sorry, I just- It’s just that I- ugh. Do I need to pay you at the end of this therapy session, counselor? »

« Go on, Wade. » Y/n urged, her tone gentle but firm.

He sighed, leaning back against the couch. « He’s my buddy. I don’t want to lose him. And I especially don’t want to be the reason he’s leaving me. I would rather have you telling him to stop being friends with me. If he even considers me as a friend…»

Y/n cut him off, her voice firm. « Of course, he does! You’re his friend, Wade. Probably one of the best at that. Never doubt that, trust me. And I’m sorry he has you feeling that way. Those walls he put up around himself, it’s not for his own safety, he truly believes that he’s a danger for others. Whatever he does to you, it’s because he cares too much about you to be a burden in your life. He’s a fucking idiot for that, yes. It hurts even more to know that, yes. And I’m certainly not trying to defend him, but you should know that I had to work hard to break those damn walls. »

Wade stared at her, a mixture of hope and disbelief in his eyes. « You know, for someone who spends so much time with a guy who barely talks, you’re pretty good at this whole talking thing. »

She smiled, her heart warming at the sight of Wade starting to relax. « Takes a lot of practice. »

As they settled into their usual banter, Wade felt a little lighter, knowing that Y/n understood his concerns and had reassured him. Logan might be tough to figure out, but with Y/n in the picture, Wade felt like maybe things would be okay.

He grinned, the familiar mischief returning to his eyes. « I’ll fight for our man »

Y/n laughed, shaking her head in amusement. « You’re ridiculous. »

Wade took another sip of his beer, his grin widening. « Yeah, but you love me for it. »

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at her lips. « Yeah, I guess I do. »

___

Logan found himself standing outside Y/n’s apartment door, hesitating. He could hear muffled sounds of laughter from inside, recognizing Wade’s loud one. With a heavy sigh, he pushed the door open.

Inside, Y/n and Wade were on the couch, a pizza box and empty beer bottles cluttered on the coffee table. Wade was in the middle of an animated story, and Y/n was smiling at him. The sight made his chest tighten. He’d been so wrapped up in his own head lately that he hadn’t even noticed how much he was distancing himself from all of this.

Wade spotted him first, grinning from ear to ear. « Hey, Logan. Decided to join the party after all? »

Logan grunted, closing the door a little harsher than he intended, making Y/n jumped at the sound. « Didn’t expect to find you here. »

Y/n smile faded slightly, sensing the tension in the room. She moved on the couch, making space for Logan beside her. « We were just hanging out, figured you might want to join us » she said.

Logan hesitated, his eyes lingering on Wade for a moment before he finally sat down. The silence that followed was thick, the easy banter from earlier replaced by a heavy, unspoken tension. Y/n could feel Logan’s frustration radiating off him, and Wade’s nervous energy was practically palpable.

« So… » Wade started, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence. « You, uh, missed some prime pizza. And I even saved you a slice. It’s in the kitchen, waiting for you, like a good little slice of heaven. »

Logan just grunted again, staring at the coffee table instead of acknowledging the gesture. Y/n felt the tension mounting and knew she had to do something before things got worse.

She gently nudged Logan with her elbow, giving him a small, encouraging smile. « Maybe you should eat something. Might help you feel better. »

Logan glanced at her, his hard exterior softening just a bit under her gaze. But before he could respond, Wade cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention back to him.

« Listen, Logan, » Wade began, his usual bravado faltering as he tried to sound casual. « I know I’m not exactly Mr. Sensitivity, but…have I done something to piss you off more than usual? You’ve been, uh, a little more…murderous lately, and I’m starting to think it’s not just my charming personality. »

Logan frowned. « What are you talking about? You’re always fucking annoying, bub. »

Wade forced a laugh, but there was an edge of vulnerability in his voice that Logan couldn’t ignore. « Yeah, I know, but it feels like I’m more of a target than usual. Like, did I cross some line? Or is it just me being my usual, lovable self? »

Y/n squeezed Logan’s hand gently, trying to ground him.

He looked at her, his frustration battling with the guilt that was slowly taking over. Admitting that something was wrong was never easy for him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted.

« It’s not…It’s not you, Wade, » Logan finally muttered, though his tone was still gruff. « I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind and, uh, I guess I’ve been taking it out on you. »

Wade’s expression shifted, a mixture of relief and concern. « Okay, so…what’s on your mind, then? Maybe I can help. Or, at least, I can try to stop doing whatever it is that’s making you want to claw my face off. »

Logan didn’t answer right away, his eyes darting between Wade and Y/n. He could see the worry in her eyes, the way she was trying to keep the peace between them. It only made him feel worse. He wasn’t used to people caring so much, and it unsettled him.

« It’s nothing you can help with, » Logan said after a long pause, his voice softer now. « Just…shit I’m dealing with. Doesn’t mean I hate you, Wade. Just means I’m not great at dealing with stuff. Also, you’re still a pain in the ass. »

Wade nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. « Okay, I can get that. I appreciate it. But, you know, I’m not exactly great at feelings and all that, but I’m here if you need to… I don’t know, punch something or whatever. »

Logan managed a small smile at that, finally meeting Wade’s gaze. « Yeah, I know that. Thanks. »

Wade grinned, his usual energy starting to return. “Well, now that we’ve had our little therapy session, how about we crack open another beer and watch a good movie? It’s like the ultimate bonding experience. And what’s the best thing for that? A fucking musical.”

Logan’s expression immediately soured. « You’ve got to be kidding me. »

Wade’s grin only grew. « Oh yeah, peanut! »

Y/n laughed, her eyes twinkling with excitement as Logan let out an exaggerated groan, his shoulders slumping as he reluctantly gave in.

Wade chuckled and patted Logan on the back. « Let’s fucking go. »

As they settled onto the couch, Logan couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement. Despite his grumbling, there was a genuine warmth in his eyes as he looked at Y/n and Wade. He found himself laughing at Wade’s over-the-top dance moves and Y/n’s infectious joy.

Logan glanced at his girlfriend, who was practically glowing with happiness as she sang along to the movie’s songs. It was clear he was enjoying himself, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

___

Later that night, after Wade had left and they were alone again, Logan stayed behind at Y/n’s apartment. He was still living with Wade but coming back home after tonight wasn’t the best idea. He needed the calm he found in Y/n’s home. They sat together on the couch, the remnants of their evening scattered around them.

« You know, you handled that pretty well. » she said softly.

Logan let out a long breath, leaning back against the couch. « Yeah, well, didn’t feel like it at the time. »

« But you did, and that’s what matters. » she insisted, turning to look at him.

He looked down at her, his gaze softening as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. « I don’t know what I’d do without you. »

She smiled, leaning into his touch. « Lucky for you, you won’t have to find out. »

Logan pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head. For the first time in a while, he felt like things were starting to make sense again.

He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips against the top of her head. She lifted her head up, catching his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and relief. Logan's eyes softened as he looked at her, the weight of the past few days seeming to lift.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against hers, soft and slow, as if she was made of glass. The most precious thing in his heart. Y/n's hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing a little heavier.

Logan searched her eyes, his voice soft and sincere, a contrast to his usual gruff. « I love you. »

Y/n’s lips curled up. « I love you too, Lo. »

For the first time in a while, he felt a deep sense of peace. And as they sat there, surrounded by the soft glow of the apartment, he knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they’d be okay. They’ll always find a way.

Thank you for reading <3

#fanfiction #fandom #ao3 #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #marvel cinematic universe #logan howlett #hugh jackman x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #xmen fanfiction #xmen x reader #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #deadpool movies #deadpool

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bonny-kookoo · 9 months

Text

Jungkook

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓣𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱 [Cookies]

Jimin isn't sure anymore what to think about you and Jungkook. But maybe tonight he realizes something.

Tags/Warnings: Human!Yoongi, Human!Jimin, Rottweiler hybrid!Jungkook, Cat hybrid!Reader, Enemies to friends to lovers, mentions of past trauma, some Yoonmin here and there oops, Main story focus are MC and Kook though, some Angst in this, major fluff too, christmas!!!

Wordcount: 3.1k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jimin has no idea how to talk to you anymore.

It’s not like you became an entirely different person overnight, or as if Jungkook actively keeps him away from you- it’s just.. awkward. He’s seen you search online for jobs, something you’ve never done before, or at least you’ve never actually seemed to be interested in that. And neither has he ever wanted you to do get one- he’s making enough money for the both of you, you don’t have to provide for yourself.

But he believes that Jungkook might have something to do with it.

“jiminie?” You say, skipping towards him to put your phone down, a page opened. “can you drive me to my job interview tomorrow?” You ask, and Jimin frowns, looking at the page on your phone.

It's an email. You’ve been apparently asking for a job at a local grocery store to just help stock the shelves and such, but Jimin worries. “are you sure?” He asks, and you deflate quite a bit. “eight hours a day is a bit much to start with..” he says, and you huff, slumping over onto the kitchen counter.

“But I wanna have my own money too…” you mumble, complaining when the door opens, Yoongi entering.

“But baby you don’t have to? Just tell me how much you need and I’ll give it to you.” Jimin says, earning some attention from Yoongi who gets himself a bottle of cold coffee from the fridge.

“But then- noo, that’s not right!” You huff, tail smacking against your chair you’re sitting on. “no, I need my own for that!” You complain. “eight hours isn’t a lot! I can do that!”

“Can I look at it?” yoongi asks, and Jimin slides the phone over with a sigh. “eight hours five days a week. Have you ever worked before?” He wonders, and you sheepishly shake your head. “then eight hours might be a bit much as a start. Don’t they offer part time positions?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I’ll get less money then though..” you say disappointed, leaning back a big as your legs swing around.

“Work your way up then.” Yoongi encourages. “it’s a good job, decent pay even as part time.” He mumbles, looking through the job description. “I’d like to look over the contract before you sign it though. Just to make sure it’s all good.” He says, turning around to throw the bottle in the trash.

Jimin notices instantly how you look at Yoongi.

“There’s my princess!” Jungkook however breaks through the moment, picking you up from the chair you’re sitting on to hug you, tail wagging with excitement. He’s apparently just come home from work to pick you up- like he always does.

These days, the moment Jungkook is available, you’re gone out of sight.

Yoongi has already slowly brought up the topic of potentially changing the living situations permanently in the future- switching around so to speak, with Jungkook and you living in one house, while Jimin and Yoongi occupy the other. Of course, this wouldn’t be official due to the fact that both Jungkook and you are still hybrids and therefore legally not allowed to rent or own any land or property, but it could still work as long as the paperwork stays the way it is right now. Jimin isn’t really sure if he likes the idea.

He knows it’s inevitable, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.

Jungkook and you are gone as quickly as always, with the dog hybrid helping you wrap your scarf around your neck to keep you warm outside. He’s taking you for a bit of a date- he’s doing that a lot in fact. But especially now- with Christmas fast approaching and your love for all things sweet, it’s the perfect time to spoil you rotten.

You don’t tell him about your job hunting. You kind of want it to stay a bit of a secret.

“Do you know what you’d like as a Christmas present yet?” He wonders, warm hand holding yours as he swings them a bit, both of you walking through the busy streets full of food stalls and advertisements. You think a little, unsure.

“I don’t know.” You admit. Jimin and you always exchanged tiny presents, never truly having to think about what to gift the other.

“hm, I’ll have to think of something then.” He chuckles, squeezing your hand a second before he looks ahead again.

Back home, Jimin and Yoongi are arguing once again. “I’m just saying- what if they can’t keep the house tidy? She’s pretty messy..” jimin worries.

“Jungkook will get her to clean up, don’t worry he’s a bit chaotic but they’ll manage.” He easily defends. “jimin, I know it’s hard to let go but-“ he sighs when Jimin turns around, facing away from him. “-she’ll stay close? Literally next door.” He offers.

But it’s not enough. He wants you home.

“She’s already looking for a job. She clearly must be thinking of it too.” Yoongi says. “You can’t keep that away from her. She deserves that freedom.”

“She never worked before. She wont last.” Jimin says, sitting down again to put his head in his hands. “I don’t want her to go through that feeling of failure. She’s fine as it is- why does she suddenly want her own money? Just because Jungkook works?” He whines, and Yoongi shrugs, because he has an idea as to why you could be doing this.

“Does it really matter?” the older male says, sitting down as well. “this isn’t about the money, or the work, or the house, and you know this.” He tries to reason. “it’s about the fact that you don’t want her to leave.”

“Why can’t I have you both?” jimin softly complains. “it feels like I have to choose. Like.. I’d have to take Jungkook away from her to get her back.” He reveals his feelings, making Yoongi stay silent.

Because there’s really nothing he could say to make him feel any better.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Yoongi waits for you in the car as you return from your job interview, offering him the documents to read through. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?” yoongi asks, reading through the papers with a pair of glasses.

“Yeah, but I don’t.. want to just be lazy.” You mumble, playing with your new acrylics you got done with Jungkook. They’re Christmas themed. “Jungkook.. works a lot. And he's always so proud.” You say quietly. “I know working in a grocery store isn’t as cool as his job but..”

Yoongi looks over at you, a gentle expression on his face. “You have a lot to be proud of too.” He says, giving the documents back to you. “and even just part time is already a big thing. You’re a different category than Jungkook, remember that.”

“How do you know?” You ask, surprised.

“both simple observation-“ He smiles a bit, before he flips a page of your document. “-and the ability to read.” He chuckles, causing you to become a bit shy now.

He's right. It’s all written down right there.

“You’re right in the middle of categories. That’s got to be confusing.” He gently tells you. “Go slow and steady. They offer a training day, take it. I’ll bring you and pick you up, and then we’ll decide whether or not you’ll sign it, okay?” He asks, and you nod, watching him drive home in silence.

The moment you both step out in front of his house, you do something unique-

You hug him, an actual, full on hug, arms wrapped around him as you rub your cheek on his chest to scent him. “thanks.” You mumble, and Yoongi awkwardly pats your head, before you run off at the sight of Jungkook after giving yoongi the documents, as the dog hybrid is seen opening the front door to greet you.

“Well, that’s new.” Jimin hums. “is she growing closer to everyone but me now?” He half-jokes- though yoongi can hear some genuine insecurities.

“I think it’s simply evening out, Jimin.” Yoongi tries to explain. “see it like that. Her attention is like a bottle of water. And before, it was all just filling one cup- yours.” He says as they’re both inside the kitchen now, him taking out two glasses and a bottle of water. “But now, there’s more cups to fill. And Jungkook’s simply gets a bit more from her.. well, because it’s a special cup, you could say.” He chuckles.

“I was just as spoiled, huh.” Jimin sighs, taking the glass of water from him, staring at it.

“Pretty much. But just like her, you’ll adapt.” He gently hums, hand on his. “it’s just a bit tough right now. And hey-“ he says, leaning over the table a bit to get closer, faces only inches apart.

“-You’ve got your own special cup too, no?”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook and you cuddle on the sofa, when he notices it again.

Sometimes, whenever you’re close like this, or he offers you just a tad bit too much physical affection, you seem to become almost drunk off of it. He’s noticed it in public too, whenever he hugs you fully and gives you a lot of kisses or even just a hand on your back running up and down a bit too often. Now, he knows that cat hybrids can get excited from a lot of physical contact- but you seem especially sensitive.

Almost as if you’re not the same category as himself.

He doesn’t really know how to ask you, considering that it might be a touchy subject- but he’s also endlessly curious. Though, right now, it’s not a very pressing issue, as you’re both in the privacy of the home he technically shares with Yoongi. These days, your things have found their way into this house as well though- from clothes in the wash, blankets on the couch, or stuffed toys in his bedroom that you wanted to show off but forgot to take back.

He can’t say he doesn’t like it.

You’re happily purring against him, rolling over onto your back, sweater rising up a bit to reveal your stomach- and he can’t help himself as he leans over you to kiss the skin, cold top of his nose making you giggle. “You’re so pretty.” He chuckles as well, moving up to kiss your lips now. You’re buzzing with emotions now, tail swiping from side to side, smacking hard against the couch now as he charges you up again.

It's then that you bite him, and he notices it.

As if he looks at you for the first time so intensely, he realizes a few things. From the more pronounced feline shape of your pupils, to the more defined sharpened teeth of yours. It doesn’t just seem like you’re a different category- you most likely are.

And yet you seem so aware? Something doesn’t make sense- but right now, it’s not the moment to ask about it.

Instead, he watches how you let go of his arm again, only some slight marks present on his skin, proving that you didn’t mean to hurt him at all- that it was just a reaction to get rid of all that excitement. It’s cute to him, most of all, so he doesn’t really care about it, happy sighing along with you as you both entangle your legs together before you cuddle up, getting ready to nap a little.

It's Jungkook’s favorite part of the day.

If he didn’t like his job so much, he’d stay home with you all day every day, and he’d never get bored of anything at all as long as you’d be there at his side. But to spoil you how you deserve it, he needs money- so it’s currently for the best to be away for seven hours and be able to offer you the best he can.

And you deserve only the best, in his opinion.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You feel ashamed when Yoongi picks you up from your first day.

You had to take breaks way more often than you thought you’d have to, it was honestly stressful despite the fact that you did nothing but stock shelves for four hours. You’re being paid- but you also feel almost defeated. You can’t see yourself doing this long term- you feel absolutely drained.

“I know I’m repeating myself, but it’s fine to admit if it’s not for you.” Yoongi tells you, who just starts at your lap. “no shame in it.”

“Why can’t I be normal?” You mumble.

“Because no one is.” Yoongi simply chuckles. “some might fit a common standard. But there is really no ‘normal’. Only average at best.” He explains.

“then I wanna be average.” You say.

“But that’s not you.” He shrugs. “and we all like you the way you are.” He offers. “Jimin mentioned to me that you don’t like Christmas. Are you upset because of that right now?” He wonders, genuinely curious.

“Christmas.. I don’t know.” You tell him. “It’s all.. a lot. Like, the lights, and the noise, and everyone’s always on edge, and nervous..” you confess.

“Its stressful.” Yoongi concludes, and you nod.

“And I also always feel bad.” You admit. “because.. Jiminie always gets me a lot of presents, but all I can give him is.. stupid stuff I made myself.” You say.

“Ah, now I get why you want to work so badly.” Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“I want to give you guys nice stuff too!” You cry out, finally letting it all out to someone. “I want to make you happy too, but I can’t do anything, and I can’t buy anything! I can only take, that’s it!” You huff angrily, ears pinned back when you notice Yoongi pulling up to a small grocery store. “Huh?” You wonder, distracted, when Yoongi runs a hand over your head- the touch able to calm you down quite a bit as you look at him.

“you and Jimin are very similar, you know?” He smiles. “You need to be more open. Don’t suffer all by yourself- getting help isn’t admitting defeat.” He says. “how about you help with chores at home, and I’ll give you some pocket money for it?”

“But then I’ll take money from you again.” You deny.

“Its not that different from working. You do something, I’ll pay you. Simple.” He shrugs.

“…OK.” You nod, determined, as he reaches over to wipe your cheeks, tears staining them that you didn’t even notice falling.

“there we go.” He grins, before driving back home with you.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

After Yoongi had informed the rest of them back home about your actual issues with the holiday season, Jungkook is now busy making sure the new Christmas lights aren’t blinking anymore but instead glowing steady, settings adjusted. He's almost done, when you rush into the house, almost tripping upstairs. “everything okay?” Jungkook calls, Jimin and Yoongi looking after you as well.

“Everything’s fine, promise!” You call down. “I just gotta wrap some stuff!!” You say, before something chatters, making Yoongi chuckle.

“So all those Years.. she didn’t hate Christmas at all?” jimin wonders.

“I mean, cats are pretty sensitive to stuff like that.” Jungkook mumbles with his head almost entirely stuck within the large Christmas tree. “and she’s a different category so- ouch!” He flinched when the pines prick him a little.

“I never thought that the difference in just seven percent is that big..” jimin shamefully sighs to himself.

“Well, you know now.” Yoongi reassures. “the past is the past. Let’s focus on the future.”

You’re downstairs a few hours later with a few colorful bandaids on your fingers from papercuts, watching the cookies in the oven bake with Jungkook hugging you. Some of them are shaped like cats, others like dogs. “can we eat them when they’re done?” You wonder.

“They’ll be hot though.” Jungkook chuckles. “you’ll burn your tongue.”

“I don’t wanna wait..” you huff.

“I’ll distract you then.” Jungkook suggests. “we can go put the presents under the tree while they cool down.” He says, letting go of you to take them out, careful not to have you get hurt.

“Okay.” You nod, fetching all the little things you wrapped admittedly a bit chaotically. Still, everyone’s proud- it’s not an easy task for you, and it’s clear that you had to take breaks multiple times in between wrapping to get your focus back on track. “mine look all crumpled up..” you pout, sitting on the floor in front of all the presents.

“You got drastically better though after the first two.” Yoongi comments. “that one there looks pretty neat.” He points to a small one, and you purr at that, before you turn. “You want some?” He offers the peeled tangerine, which you take.

“She’s warmed up to him.” Jimin notices from the sidelines, and Jungkook nods, tail wagging.

“Isn’t it great?” He says, though his tail slows when he notices Jimin’s rather somber look. “Why are you so against us loving her.?” He asks, and Jimin looks towards the dog hybrid in surprise.

“What?” He asks, caught off guard.

“I don’t know. But it feels like you’re.. upset that she’s befriending Yoongi. Or that she loves me now.” He explains.

“I’m not upset.” The older human denies. “I’m just.. scared.”

“Of what?” Jungkook calls, bewildered. “aren’t we a family now?”

A family.

Jimin hasn’t really thought of it that way- but Jungkook’s right. Yoongi and the dog hybrid aren’t taking you away, really- they’re more like an extension now, added on instead of pushed into the existing bond you two once had. The only one who pulled away had been himself.

“we all love her. In different ways.” Jungkook smiles. “the only one who’s making it weird is you.” He jokes, before he joins in, tugging on your tail playfully to get you to turn and tackle him, Yoongi sighing as he has to make sure you both don’t tumble right into the tree.

And that night, a switch had been flipped.

Jimin finally jumps over his own shadow again, helping you unwrap your presents, while also almost brought to tears when he receives yours. It’s all warm, and happy, and almost like you’re both back to normal again- but one look around him offers him a true picture of what it is now.

You both have always considered each other family-

You’re just a few more people now.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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