i feel bad now okay curse lifted Owen, your sugar is no longer salt and is sugar again…
also Scott your hair is made of cotton candy for a bit >:3
Owen doesn't trust your words one bit. Hell, he even doesn't trust the sugar cubes Scott has been holding out for me, his friend's genuine suffering no longer amusing to the man.
"Owennn, i promise you it'll taste like sugar. Trust me okay?"
It looks Scott dead in eyes and mentally establishes that if this will also turn into salt then they will loose all hope in the world and accept that it was cruel, wretched place and life is but a prison, before tentatively taking one cube and examining it to the best of his abilities.
He takes the tiniest bite he has ever had and shuts their eyes close in anticipation.
But the bitter taste never comes, all he feels is the way the sugar melted into his mouth
The llama's eyes snap open and he shoves the remaining cube in his mouth, almost choking in the process
"So, God does exist..."
He cried happy tears
Scott smiled, a relief washing over him. At least now he won't have to deal with a wailing llama and most all, atleast he won't have to see his friend suffer anymore
His smile lasted untill he processed your words, wait what—?!
"HUH?!"
He felt his fedora knock to the ground, unable to rest on his head. A hand reached to comb through his hair only for his "hair" to squish weirdly under its weight.
Owen, who had finished all the sugar cubes Scott had, looked up at his friend and his funny looking head enveloped by pinks and blues
Kiiiinda obsessed with the idea of regularly fooling around and cheating with Peter and when you tell him you’ve actually never given head before and asking “can I try sucking you off?”, he almost finishes right there. He has to walk you through it and says “your boyfriend never taught you this? How lucky am I?”
oh dear gOD
he's sat up on the couch and you're sat on his lap. his hands are on your waist, pushing and pulling you ever so slightly, almost grinding you against him. you've never gone any further than just making out with him, and the same goes for you and your actual boyfriend. but your boyfriend isn't peter, he's nowhere near as good as peter.
you pull away from peter for a second and look at him, his pupils darkening as he wets his lips with his tongue.
"i wanna suck you off.."
"think you can take it?"
"never done it before so.."
"never?"
you shake your head. he slightly pushes at you and you get the hint to get off him and get on your knees. he cups your jaw as he unzips his jeans, reaching in and taking his dick out, letting it rest against his stomach.
"gonna talk you through it ok?"
you just nod and he leans back, pulling your head forward as you took him in your hand. lifting your head up slightly, you swallowed thickly before opening your mouth, trying to take as much of him as possible.
"slowly, baby.. not all at once.. shit.."
you gagged as you felt his tip hit the back of your throat, tongue swirling around and licking the part of him that was in your mouth. he pulled you off him and you gasped, saliva trailing from his tip to your mouth.
"want more.. please.."
"so eager to please, baby.."
"always for you.."
"how lucky am i, getting to teach you things your boyfriend won't do.."
he had your mouth back on him now so you couldn't respond, but you quickly started bobbing your head, kitten licking at his tip whenever you could. his hand was fisted in your hair but he wasn't pushing or pulling, he just let you figure out the motions on your own, praising you and encouraging you through it.
"such a filthy mouth.. takin' me so well, honey.. you're so fuckin' good to me.."
you felt his leg slightly twitch and you knew he was close. you squeezed your eyes shut, bobbing your head down and taking him all in your mouth again.
"gonna come.. shit.. fuck.. you gonna be a good girl and swallow it all?"
you nodded, eyes blinking back tears as you held him in your mouth and throat. he hissed and groaned as you felt the hot ropes down your throat, sighing slightly against him before pulling off. you swallowed what was in your mouth, before opening up, tongue out and showing him.
"'atta girl.. c'mere.."
he patted his thighs and you stood up, before sitting back down on his lap, his dick growing soft underneath you.
"you did so good, baby.."
"mmhm?"
"mmhm.. best head i've ever fuckin' had.."
you just giggled and leaned down to kiss his cheek.
"now.. you gave me head.. anyone ever done it to you? like has your boyfriend ever went down on you? head between your legs?"
you shook your head and he just smiled.
"well, guess tomorrow evening is gonna be interesting.."
As far as Sarah can remember, the screaming had always been there. Those whines of desperation, the cries of agony.
It’s being said that it’s been going on for centuries like this. A house, deep down in the woods, haunted by an evil spirit. The howling would get worse around days of winter, and whenever she’d get closer to the forest, she could feel the heartbreaking misery of those cries. The townspeople call it the wails of the Winter Soldier.
Sarah had never seen the house herself. Never been allowed to approach the deepest parts of the woods, where the ominous omnipresent mist would greet her. Her parents used to say that certain death awaited her there. Sam though, her brother, he had been at the house—multiple times even. He never told her, but she knows.
It took her a while to notice that every now and then Sam would pack some food in a lunchbox and disappear for hours. Hours, during which the faint cries would find a sudden stop. Sam must’ve gotten to the same conclusion she has: nothing capable of such anguish screaming could be of evil nature. These are painful cries of someone suffering and in need of help.
But whenever she asks, Sam evades the question, and Sarah has had enough of it. She is no innocent child anymore in need of protection—it’s been over thirty years and she’s a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. So, on a cold November morning, she packs a lunchbox and heads out.
It’s a reckless action, she’s aware. She’s got two boys waiting for her to come back home, and no husband anymore who could take care of them should something happen. But Sarah is no fool—she wouldn’t do it if she wasn’t positive she’d come back safe and sound. Sam is a fighter, and Sam never looks like he’s been in a fight when he comes back from his trips to the house.
For the first time, Sarah steps foot into the deep ends of the woods and lets the mysterious mist engulf her. With every step she takes, the screaming gets louder, almost bone-crushing, causing shivers to run down her spine and having her hurting more and more for this poor pained soul.
Eventually, she reaches her destination and dares to enter the abandoned house with thrill and a healthy dose of fear pumping through her blood. When she finally gets to the attic, where the cries seem to be coming from, she learns three things right then and there, and none of them are what she expected:
For one, the Wailing Winter Soldier is no ghost or evil spirit. It’s a man. A man, bound to the house for eternal torture, cursed by no one else but the Clan of HYDRA.
For another, it’s not the man who’s screaming, but the house itself—expressing what the man is repressing.
Lastly, the man’s name is Bucky. And Bucky has the bluest eyes and kindest smile Sarah has ever seen, making her heart beat faster as if she was again a teen.
OKAY... i'll bite. what's the challenge/project? i am highly intrigued xoxo bella
so. i've been thinking a lot about the reason i write and how it's similar/different than why other people write and long story short i've noticed that i've been looking at the stats page more than i'd like. putting my enjoyment of finishing a fic into the hands of other people is guaranteed to make me feel not so great about it, no matter how well/not well a project does. so, i decided that i'm going to hold back all my finished fic until i have 24 completed works and then release them all in one giant content extravaganza. (yes this is in part inspired by a coded tumblr advent calander page i'd edit to fit my purposes don’t @ me.) i think holding things back and then releasing one a day for 24 days straight (which i'm pretty sure is not a great way to keep up readership levels on each individual fic since several of them are bound to fall btwn the cracks) will keep me focused on the healthier (for me) motivations to write and also would be really fun once it's finished! plus if things don't do well i can just be like 'i released it in a batshit way it totally makes sense why it's not getting interaction'. there is of course the fact that i'm slow as fuck when it comes to writing fic so who knows when i'll reach 24 completed fics on my hard drive (i'm hoping it'll take only a year or less but tbh that's pretty optimistic) but hopefully it'll be worth the wait!
ABSOLUTELY LOVED how you wrote pup to be the protegé of Park the Shark!! Something about him taking pride in her after he's moulded her to be the perfect Orthopod... everyone in the ED coming around to defer to her too,,, yeah I fear he'd only get more obsessed over her
( gif credits to the lovely @parktheeshark for this crisp gifset ! )
☤ ─ MIRAGE ; Park the Shark
a/n. Dynamic previously established here in this fic. Don’t worry folks this 700wc drabble is NOT the continuation of Pearls Before Swine— Just a part 1.2 to buoy the Shark frenzy rn while I work on part 2. Enjoy!
A COLLAR BONE displacement sinks you to the demersals of PTMC, much to your obvious chagrin.
“Alright,” you sigh, snapping your gloves on while sailing into Trauma-2 swiftly. A streamline path unconsciously parts open for you like water slicing through the prow of a ship. The Med Students comically shrink from you like anemone. “Let’s quickly get this over with, please?”
“Look’s like Shark’s favourite pup is in,” Garcia, brows to hairline, hums. She watches you eerily circle the gurney like Park would, shark-like; the same pensive look in your eyes as you zero in on the angry, violaceous mottle swelling right above the patient’s sternum.
“I said please, didn’t I?” you shoot lazily over your shoulder.
Robby and Garcia share a look. Half-amused, half-stunned. Enough for the bay to shift and click into place: It appears you’ve inherited a bit of Park’s notorious bite since they’ve last seen you down the ED.
“Got pulled out a once-in-a-lifetime procedure for an open scapular fracture all for a…” You straighten up from the bedside expectantly. “X-Ray, please? Thanks.”
You lean towards the machine revealing a—
“Posterior sternoclavicular displacement,” jumps in an obvious gunner, “which, presents rarely at 3% of all shoulder-related dislocations. So, kind of once-in-a-lifetime, too.”
A glacial beat drifts pass.
Beside him, Robby can see Whitaker visibly grimacing; steeling for the familiar, sharp Orthopaedic snap of, I’m not blind, to spear poor Ogilvie through like a hapless carp the same way he’d endured the humiliation from Park the Shark.
But—
A snort is all you allow; and there ends all acknowledgement of the lanky MS’s existence.
…Arguably worse.
Garcia has to bite back an unnerved laugh. Fills in the chilling silence by presenting the case as you move to palpate the unconscious patient until Robby eventually runs down the list of concerns.
Head, chest, abdomen clea… nd O2 looks good… irway patent since transport… don’t think it’s pressing up against her tra… Radial pulse has been strong and stea… hoping for a…
“Closed reduction should be possible,” you conclude, after taking one final look to reckon the dislocation on-screen of the mobile X-Ray. “But I want her sent up to CT before she wakes. It’ll be the only window we can get her flat on her back without any complaints.”
“Alright,” Robby begins—
“Uh,” cuts in Whitaker, before he can stop himself, “Will the Shark be on this, considering it’s an uncommon case?”
You suck in a sharp breath at that, unimpressed. It’s enough to suspend the bay again into quiet stillness.
“There’s always a bigger fish,” comes your curt answer. It’s not hostile at all, but subtly edged enough to feel the nip from a familiar set of jagged, serrated teeth.
It makes Whitaker wince again.
“Doctor Park,” you correct, “sent me down personally to consult this case.” You circle back round to the exit in an efficient glide once more, snapping your gloves off pointedly. “If you have a problem with that,” you make a vague, cavalier jerk of your head upwards, “take it up to the Shark.”
The Resident deflates, wide-eyed. “Oh, no, no, I just… he’s my patient— I’m just, concerned—”
“Hey. I get it,” you dismiss, as courteously as you can muster. Try to shed that bracing energy that seems to follow you and have people defer uneasily at your feet. “Go follow her up, then. And make sure the dislocation isn’t agitated into something acute enough that’ll need a signed consent trip to the OR.”
Whitaker looks to Dr. Robby for assent, who shoots an amused nod of consent in return. “Go ahead. Dr. Park sent her down— means he trusts her.”
“Thank you. And you’re welcome, bottom-dwellers,” you mock-flourish, turning on your heel and immediately out the door.
Then:
“Are all of them like that upstairs?” Ogilvie shudders, once he’s sure you’re out of earshot.
The bark of laughter Robby lets out is met in unison with Garcia’s.
“Better toughen up, kid,” she scoffs. “She said please, thank you and you’re welcome. That’s the kindest Ortho consult you might ever experience in your entire career yet.”
The next time he’d been caught in an elevator trip up with the one and only fabled Shark of Ortho, Robby couldn’t help but muse aloud, “You sent your finest the other day.”
(If Robby had noticed the way Park visibly perked up at the mention of you, however, he didn’t make it known. Files it away with the other curiosities he’s noticed between you two inside his head.)
“Scared the shit out of my poor juniors,” he continues.
Park simply hums in amusement. “Good.”
And if the tinge of uncharacteristic pride in Park’s tone isn’t enough to stun anyone into place— then the unexpected, tiny, curl of his lips in a rare flash of open affection, would.
Loving Jungkook during tour season is mostly just watching him light up on stage for thousands of people, then call you afterward from a hotel room because somehow you're still his favorite part of the day.
WARNINGS ◦ gguk cat dad agenda i know you weren't expecting this ◦ bam mention ◦ jungkook is drunk and in love ◦ fluff life ◦ domestic slice of life bc this is what i live for ◦ temporary long distance ◦ lil bit boring if you ask me but anyways.
2,644 ━━━━━ drabble jeongguk x reader
۶ৎ 𝓜 , i wish i had more patience to properly develop the vibe created here in this drabble but i'm lwk too tired to even edit it. NEways enjoy our domestic gguk agenda!
━━━━━ read on ao3
You should have gone to bed almost an hour ago.
The rational part of your brain knew that.
Tomorrow was a workday. A real one. Not the kind where you answered emails from bed or spent the afternoon catching up on paperwork. Actual patients. Actual sessions. Actual responsibilities. The kind of day that required you to be awake enough to pretend you had your life together while helping other people sort through theirs.
Instead, you were curled into the far corner of Jeongguk's sectional couch wearing one of his oversized black hoodies, your laptop balanced on your thighs while you finished writing progress notes from the week. The television murmured quietly in the background, some reality show neither of you were actually paying attention to, while rain tapped softly against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Seoul.
Curled against your side was the reason you hadn't moved in nearly forty minutes.
The cat was asleep.
Completely asleep.
One paw stretched over your stomach. Tiny pink nose buried into the blanket covering your legs. Dead weight in the most inconvenient way possible.
The little traitor hadn't left your side since dinner. Which was ironic considering Jeongguk had spent the first three months after the adoption acting like the cat was personally responsible for every inconvenience in his life.
"Bam was here first."
"She's staring at me weird."
"Why is she always in my spot?"
"I don't think she likes me."
Now? Now the same man called twice a day asking for cat updates. You had received three separate requests for photos since breakfast. The latest one had arrived thirty minutes ago.
How's my daughter?
Not Bam. The cat.
Your phone buzzed, the familiar ringtone immediately pulling your attention away from the half-finished sentence on your laptop screen.
A video call from Jeongguk lit up your screen.
A smile tugged at your mouth before you could stop it. You didn't even hesitate before accepting, already knowing exactly why he was calling. He always called after shows when he could, especially on nights when the adrenaline was still running through him and sleep felt impossible.
The moment the camera connected, however, you immediately regretted answering.
"Jesus Christ."
Jeongguk's face filled the entire screen, far too close to the camera and somehow managing to look both exhausted and wildly energized at the same time. His hair was a complete mess, falling into his eyes in uneven waves. His cheeks were noticeably flushed, and there was a familiar glassiness to his gaze that told you everything you needed to know before he even opened his mouth.
He had been drinking.
A lot.
The unmistakable expression of a man who had spent the evening celebrating with six other singers and the tour staff after the final show in the city.
The noise behind him only confirmed it. You could hear shouting somewhere off-camera, followed by a burst of laughter loud enough to distort through the speaker. Someone yelled something in Korean that you couldn't quite make out, and a second later what sounded suspiciously like Taehyung attempting to sing drifted through the chaos.
It sounded terrible.
Which meant it was probably Taehyung.
"Oh, fuck you," Jeongguk replied immediately, a grin stretching across his face so wide it nearly pushed his eyes shut. Even through the screen you could tell he'd been drinking. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was a complete mess, and there was a looseness to him that only appeared when he was exhausted, happy, and at least a little bit intoxicated. "That's the first thing you say?"
"It is."
"It shouldn't be, I missed you."
"You are hammered, Gguk."
"I'm not hammered."
"You look like you just got discharged from the military again."
His laugh exploded through the speaker, loud and sudden enough that the cat sleeping against your side twitched in protest. One tiny ear flicked before settling again.
"Baby," he whined dramatically, dragging the word out. "That's so mean. I miss you." He said it once again.
For a moment neither of you said anything as you simply looked at him through the screen while he looked back at you smiling softly, there were voices overlapping and someone shouting across the room but his attention remained fixed entirely on you.
You watched his eyes drift lower, taking in the familiar sight of his living room behind you. The couch. The blanket. The corner lamp. The television playing quietly in the background. It wasn't anything special. Just home.
Then his gaze landed on the cat sleeping against your side.
Immediately, his entire face softened.
"Oh my God. Baby."
A laugh escaped your nose.
"She's sleeping." You told him.
"I know." His smile somehow widened.
The camera shifted slightly as he settled deeper into his chair, resting his cheek against one fist while staring at the screen. The expression on his face was ridiculous. Completely gone. Absolutely smitten.
With the cat.
The same cat he'd spent months pretending to dislike.
"She looks so small."
"She is small."
"Mm." Jeongguk nodded immediately, still staring at the screen with the kind of concentration people usually reserved for life-changing revelations. "So tiny. Look at her."
You angled the phone downward slightly despite the fact that he could already see her perfectly fine.
The sight made Jeongguk audibly gasp.
"Aigo."
You rolled your eyes.
"Aigooooo—"
The sound came out softer this time, stretched into a drunken coo that made absolutely no sense to anyone except him. His entire face had transformed.
The idol who had spent the evening performing in front of thousands of screaming fans was gone. In his place sat a slightly drunk twenty-something man in a hotel room making baby noises at a sleeping cat through FaceTime.
"Aigoo, uri agi."
"She's not even listening to you."
"She is."
"She's unconscious."
"No, she's hearing me."
The confidence in his voice almost made you laugh. "Aigoo, look at that face." He tilted his own head as if trying to get a better angle. "Ya. Ya. Why is she sleeping like that? She's melting."
You glanced down. Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong. At some point the cat had somehow managed to flatten herself into an impossible shape, all limbs loose and heavy against the blanket.
Jeongguk let out another distressed noise. You pressed your lips together.
The cat had somehow migrated upward during the call. At some point while the two of you had been talking, she'd abandoned your stomach entirely and stretched herself across your chest instead, her tiny body draped over you like she paid rent. One paw was tucked beneath her chin, the other dangling lazily against the front of the hoodie. Completely boneless. Completely comfortable. Completely asleep.
The movement only seemed to worsen Jeongguk's condition. His eyes widened.
"No." He suddenly said.
"What?"
"No way."
"What now?"
"Look where she is."
You looked down, then immediately regretted it. The cat was, in fact, sprawled directly across your chest. "She's comfortable." You giggled at seeing the feline's face.
"That's my spot." The words came out so fast you almost choked, a laugh escaped before you could stop it.
Across the screen, Jeongguk looked deeply offended.
"No, seriously." For several seconds he simply stared at the screen with the most betrayed expression imaginable before letting his head fall backward against the hotel headboard.
The movement exposed the column of his throat. His hair fell away from his forehead, the flush in his cheeks had deepened.
Drunk.
Definitely drunk.
His attention had drifted back to you, not the cat this time.
Actually you.
His gaze lingered for a moment before softening. "I really miss you." The teasing disappeared so naturally you almost missed it.
You smiled. "I miss you too."
"No, like..." He rubbed one hand over his face before laughing quietly at himself. "I really miss you."
You watched him shift higher against the pillows, adjusting his phone. The hotel room lighting cast everything in a warm amber glow. His shirt collar hung loose. His eyes looked heavy now.
"I miss being home." His voice had dropped lower. Softer. "I miss the couch."
"You miss your couch?"
"I miss my couch with you on it." You rolled your eyes affectionately, watching him gaze at his phone screen like he was staring into your soul.
For a moment, you simply looked at him. Really looked at him. Past the flushed cheeks and the alcohol-softened smile. Past the messy hair falling into his eyes and the ridiculous complaints about the cat stealing his spot. There was something different about him tonight. Lighter. Happier. The kind of happiness that settled deep beneath the skin and made someone glow from the inside out.
Your smile softened.
"You know..." You adjusted the blanket slightly beneath the sleeping cat, watching his attention immediately return to you. "You're doing such a good job."
Jeongguk blinked, the reaction was instant. Almost shy. "What?"
"You are." Your voice came quieter now, sincere enough that he stopped smiling for a second just to listen. "I've been watching everything."
His eyes visibly brightened. "You have?"
"Of course I have."
A small laugh escaped him. You continued before he could interrupt.
"I can tell how happy you are up there." Your gaze drifted over his face. "And I know you've missed this."
The words landed exactly where you intended them to, you watched it happen. The way his expression softened. The way his shoulders relaxed. The way something almost boyish appeared behind his eyes.
His grin slowly spread across his face. "You think so?" The question came out embarrassingly hopeful, like a little kid asking whether you'd liked the drawing they worked on all afternoon.
Your chest immediately melted. "I know so."
His eyes practically sparkled, a quiet giggle escaped him before he ducked his head for a second, suddenly unable to hide how pleased he looked.
Jeongguk rubbed the back of his neck, that shy, boyish expression lingering as he shifted against the pillows. “You really watched the videos?” he asked softly, his voice dropping with a vulnerable edge that made your heart twist. There was no bravado in it, just pure, hopeful curiosity from a man who poured every ounce of himself into his performances.
You nodded, smiling gently while adjusting the blanket over the sleeping cat. “Of course I did, Gguk. Every single one I could find. You were incredible out there."
His cheeks flushed deeper, but not just from the alcohol this time. He looked down for a moment, biting his lip as a soft, pleased laugh slipped out. The compliment seemed to melt him completely, turning your confident idol boyfriend into someone sweetly bashful.
Jeongguk rubbed at his cheek with the back of his hand, glancing back up at the screen with that shy little smile still playing on his lips. “You always know what to say to me,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, the kind of tone he only used when the rest of the world felt far away. He shifted on the hotel bed, propping the phone against a pillow so he could see both you and the cat better. “Look at her… she’s so peaceful on your chest. My two favorite girls.”
You glanced down at the sleeping cat, its tiny body rising and falling steadily against the oversized hoodie. “She’s been glued to me all night. I think she misses you too, even if she won’t admit it.” A soft chuckle escaped you as you gently stroked her back. “She keeps taking your spot, though. Like she knows you’re not here to claim it.”
He let out a quiet, fond groan, eyes softening even more as he watched the two of you. “I miss that spot. I miss your boobs."
"Freak," you murmured before he laughed out loud.
The laugh that came out of him was immediate. Loud. Completely unashamed. His head tipped back against the headboard and for a second he looked exactly his age instead of the global superstar millions of people saw on stage every night. Just Jeongguk. Drunk. Sleepy. Missing home, missing you.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched you reach down to scratch beneath the cat's chin. The little traitor immediately pushed her face into your hand without even opening her eyes. The movement made something soften visibly in his expression.
For a few moments, neither of you said much. There wasn't really anything left to say. The conversation had already drifted through a dozen different subjects, from the concert to the cat to his very serious concerns regarding the theft of his designated spot on your chest. Now the call had settled into something quieter. More comfortable.
Jeongguk rested his cheek against the pillow behind him, looking at the screen with heavy eyes. The alcohol had finally started losing the fight against exhaustion. The excitement was still there—you could see it every time he smiled—but it sat lower now, softened around the edges by a long day and an even longer night.
"You should sleep," you murmured eventually, watching him struggle through a yawn he clearly hadn't intended to let you see.
Immediately, he shook his head. The denial would've been more convincing if his eyes hadn't watered from the effort.
"You're literally falling asleep."
"'M not. I'm talking to you."
"You can talk to me tomorrow."
Jeongguk frowned at the suggestion, his gaze drifting back toward the cat before returning to your face. The expression lasted only a second before something small and fond replaced it. The kind of look that always appeared when he was tired enough to stop pretending he wasn't sentimental.
For a while, neither of you said anything. There was no need to. The television continued playing quietly somewhere behind you, the rain tapping steadily against the windows while the cat slept through the entire conversation without moving so much as a whisker. On the screen, Jeongguk simply watched. Not in the distracted way people usually watched each other during calls, multitasking and half-listening, but with a sort of quiet attentiveness that always surfaced when he was away for too long. His eyes drifted from your face to the cat, then toward the familiar living room behind you before eventually returning to you again, as if he was mentally cataloguing every detail he was missing.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. Not enough to be called a grin. Just enough to soften his features. The alcohol had taken the sharp edges off him hours ago, leaving behind something gentler. Something boyish. He looked comfortable for the first time all evening, settled into the hotel pillows with his hair falling into his eyes and his cheeks still pink from too many celebratory drinks. It struck you suddenly that this was probably the calmest moment he'd had all day.
Your gaze lingered on him for a second longer. The warm lighting of the hotel room. The rumpled sheets. The exhaustion settling deeper into his features every minute. Thousands of miles away and somehow still occupying the entire couch with his presence alone.
Slowly, almost absentmindedly, his eyes began to close.
You bit back a smile.
There was something oddly comforting about seeing him like this. Not performing. Not rehearsing. Not running between schedules. Just tired, happy and safe. The version of Jeongguk that only really existed behind closed doors, when there was nobody around expecting anything from him.
Eventually his gaze found you again, heavy-lidded and warm, and for a moment he simply looked content. The kind of contentment that came from ending a good day and finding home waiting on the other side of a phone screen. Outside, the rain continued falling. Inside, the cat slept peacefully against your chest. And somewhere between the quiet apartment in Seoul and a hotel room halfway across the world, the distance didn't feel quite so large anymore.
author's note — he just texted me saying he missed me guys #trust this is canon.
“You sleeping?” You peered into Leona’s room to see him lying down, face first into his bed.
“What do you think?” He sarcastically muttered.
You rolled your eyes before making your way in, shutting the door behind you before sitting down on the edge of his bed, watching the mattress dip with your weight.
You absentmindedly twirl the fur at the end of his tail while the two of you sit in silence. He never really minded your touch, even before you two started dating. It was always soft—your touch. Whenever you ruffled his hair, played with the fur at the end of his tail—just as you were doing now. Or played with his ears, although that was something you rarely did before the two of you started dating. You’d been made aware just how sensitive beastmen’s ears were.
“Sleep well?” You looked up from the little patch of fur on his tail that you were distracting yourself messing with to look at his face smushed against his pillow.
“Still tired.”
“Want some company? Or should I let you rest?”
You and him both already knew the answer, there was no point in even asking. No point in responding either. All he did was push himself lightly off the bed, lifting his arm up as a silent gesture to squeeze in there. And you did just that, tucking your face into his chest, taking in his scent.
“Should’ve came earlier,” he sighed against the top of your head.
“I had class. Maybe you should try going to those?” You tease.
“Took that class last year.”
“And failed.”
“Because I wasn’t trying.”
“Maybe try then?”
“Maybe stop talking?” He repeated in the same cadence.
It was all light hearted, really.
Surprisingly, or perhaps not, you’d never really gotten in any fights or disagreements with one another. He had no problem with admitting his own faults with you. Even when he was in the right, he’d let you have that win. He liked seeing you happy. What a softie.
You lifted an arm up to softly pet your boyfriend’s ears. You learned a little trick that always eased his tension, making him all sleepy and cuddly. Even made him purr too—
He nestled his face in closer towards your neck now.
“Feel good?” you cooed.
“Mmm,” he just hummed a response before pulling you in closer towards his body.
God, you loved how warm he was. His body was like a furnace. All the better for cuddling.
“I love you, you know?” his words muffled between your neck and shoulder.”
“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” You hummed, all content-like.
a/n: omg i haven’t written anything for twst in a minute. i’ll do better on that🙂↕️ anyways here a little drabble with Leona. he’s such a cutie i love him actually.
Megumi Fushiguro is too nervous to confess his feelings for you 𖹭.ᐟ
cw/notes: no use of y/n // everyone is 18+ // drabble // fluff // megumi x fem!reader // megumi is nervous/shy mess // yuji wants to wingman fr // yuji might not make it through the night after the stunt he pulls // megumi is whiiiiiiped // megumi blushy ash
masterlist - taglist
"C'mon, just let me wingman for you," Yuji pleads.
"No," Megumi shakes his head, "actually, hell no."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" He crosses his arms, leaning back into the couch as he shoots his friend an offended look. "Seriously, she'll be here any second. Just let me handle it, I know what girls want, trust."
"That's exactly why I'm saying no." He groans, dragging his hands down his face. "Just act normal and don't say anything stupid."
Before Yuji gets the chance to say anything back, you're already walking through the front door. Megumi immediately sits up, quickly adjusting himself the moment he sees you, earning a stifled laugh from Yuji, who can't get over how whipped his friend is for you.
"Shit, have you guys been waiting on me?" you ask, sounding a little worried when you notice them just sitting there, glancing between each other.
"No, but," Yuji starts. "We were just talking about you," he says, winking at Megumi, who instantly turns his head, tugging at the collar of his shirt to cover his burning cheeks.
Goddammit, he could strangle him right now.
"…Really?" you ask, feeling a little curious—what could they have possibly been talking about?
"Yeah," Yuji says as you take your usual seat next to Megumi on the sofa, "lots of things actually."
Megumi would give anything to make him shut the hell up, especially when he's frozen in spot, too busy being a pathetic, nervous mess to even muster the courage to move, to speak, to stop his friend from completely fumbling this for him.
"Oh? Like what?" You glance between them, but when you look at Megumi, all you can see is the back of his messy hair as he shoots daggers at Yuji.
"I dunno… like who you like, who like yo-"
Megumi shoots up, damn near teleporting as his hand slaps over Yuji's mouth, his other hand yanking him back by his hoodie.
"Man, Itadori, how many drinks have you had?" He shakes his head, already starting to drag him away.
"I haven't drank anythin-"
Megumi's hand is back over his mouth before he can finish. "You're not making any sense," he says, shoving him toward his room. "You should probably sleep it off, don't want a horrible headache."
Yuji puts up a small fight, somehow managing to squirm enough to blurt out, "Fushiguro likes you!" before darting his tongue out to lick the palm of Megumi's hand, causing him to jerk back with a look of absolute disgust.
"W-wait, what?" You stumble over your words, certain you must've heard him wrong. Because you would've known if one of your closest friends liked you like that, right?
But when you look over at Megumi, he only meets your eyes for a split second before glancing away again, desperately trying to pull it together—which feels damn near impossible when his friend is currently plotting his downfall.
Yuji's already backing away by the time the room falls into an awkward silence, one caused entirely by himself.
"Man," he yawns, covering his mouth to really 'sell it'. "Guess I really am beat, huh?"
His hand is already turning the doorknob.
"Night, guys!" He calls out, quickly slipping into the safety of his room.
Yeah, Yuji was definitely on his shit list after that.
"Is it true?" You finally gather the courage to ask. "What Yuji said?"
Megumi's heart instantly races at your question, palms sweating, his throat tightening every time he tries to answer, to just tell you instead of being such a pussy about it.
"You can tell me," you say softly, stepping closer as you slowly reach out, taking his hand in yours.
He knows you mean it, just like he knows you putting your hand in his is supposed to be comforting. But instead, it only makes his skin heat under your touch, burning with a kind of vulnerability he isn't used to.
"Y-" Curse his stupid mouth for not working. "Y-yes."
God, now you're going to think he's some pathetic loser, a dork, someone you never want to talk to again. Someone who can't even confess to you properly, like a real man, without tripping over his own words.
Your eyes soften, "Oh, Gumi…" You close the distance, pressing a kiss to his rosy cheeks, which only flares more when you pull away. "I like you too… I thought you didn't feel the same. Or that I would've known? I guess."
"Are you insane?" He asks, like he can't even wrap his head around the idea that you'd think he wouldn't feel the same. "Me not feel the same about you?" His hands move to cup your face, holding you there gently. "When you're this beautiful inside and out, do you even know how special that is?"
He presses his lips to yours, tentative at first, until you're melting into it. Your arms wrap around him as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer, his tongue slipping into your mouth—and fuck, you taste better than he ever imagined. So sweet, so good… so perfect.
You're both left breathless when you pull away. "I want this forever," he murmurs softly against your forehead.
"Me too," you admit quietly, leaning into his touch. "Think we can stay like this forever?"
He pulls back, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "With you… I'd do anything."
as alwaysss I appreciate all reblogs, comments and likes <33
