#I've been wanting to share this for a bit

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

😭🔥🔥🔥 DEAR GOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!! omg omg omg i’m FREAKING OUT!!!!! SO FUCKING HAPPY TANGIE CALM DOWN MY FINGERS CANT TYPE THAT FAST

anyway… breathing slowly…. inhaling, exhaling…

okay so a lil vent before the review 🤓 a li update about me <3

I've been a bit absent (in case anyone noticed) due to work and mental exhaustion, so sometimes I just don't want to stay on my phone and read. But today, determined to entertain myself with my beloved fanfics and at the same time serve my beautiful followers, I decided to go in search of something cool to read. So I went looking through my fanfic list to read later and when I saw classic 90s, I knew what I would read.

Damn… if this was a movie, would be one of my favorites. You know those movies that you've watched a thousand times but still like? Those movies that you watch when you're having a shitty day and just want some comfort to warm your heart? yep.

This was like a movie in my head and the whole atmosphere was wonderful. The enemies not so enemies to lovers, the sweet love, the beautiful youth of the characters, the kiss at the door and your sister finding out you kissed a boy... YOU CAN COMPLAIN ALL YOU WANT ABOUT CLICHES BUT NOT HERE

"Stick around tonight," he said, voice low. "You might like what else you find." — and suddenly I'm 16 again, at the same party as my crush. The tension in the air, the anticipation, the "what if?", the delicious nervousness when something good is about to happen... I live for these characters. I miss that feeling, and you captured it perfectly @jeonette <3

It seems like you took all the elements perfectly and made the most wonderful dessert in the world (maybe I'm hungry) BUT THE METAPHOR IS EXACTLY THAT

You know when you're reading/watching a really good movie/book and you're begging for more pages/scenes? I felt exactly like that, every line was a relief to have more story to read. And when I leave with that feeling, then I know the experience was really good.

Also i thought to myself: “This is probably from 2020 and the author must have disappeared” and THEN I DISCOVERED, the story was posted last month. A newborn!!!! And I'm extremely happy to have found this story (through a search on chatgpt looking for fanfics set in the 80s/90s). The universe in my favor again 😝😝

And now I can happily share my opinion with you and ask for lots of love for this story. @jeonette 💗Thank you so much and I hope to read your other works in the future <3

after school hours - jjk

A classic 90's enemies to lovers skit. Mixtapes, rooftop hangouts, and harmless bickering between classes. But somewhere between hallway glances, stolen car rides, and one kiss under the stars, everything changed.

pairing : jungkook x reader

genre : enemies to lovers ( my favv )

The classroom buzzed faintly with low chatter and the soft hum of the overhead fan, lazily spinning in the warm air. Pages rustled. A pencil rolled off a desk and clattered to the floor. Somewhere in the back, someone was half-asleep with their head against the window.

And in the middle of it all, Y/N was glaring at Jungkook.

"That’s not even the right metaphor," she muttered under her breath.

Jungkook didn’t look up from his notebook. “It is if you actually understood the poem.”

She scoffed. “I understood it fine. You just love the sound of your own voice.”

“Good thing it’s a nice voice, then.”

Jimin, sitting between them like some long-suffering referee, groaned softly. “You two are like divorced parents. I’m begging you—let me get through one class without a custody battle over Shakespeare.”

Y/N leaned over Jimin to poke Jungkook in the arm with her pen. “You think you’re so smart just because Mr. Kim actually likes your essays.”

“He likes them because they’re good. Unlike your tragic five-paragraph breakdown of 'Romeo + Juliet' where you called Romeo a walking red flag.”

“Am I wrong?”

Jimin stifled a laugh. Jungkook rolled his eyes but the corner of his mouth twitched.

The bell rang before Y/N could get another jab in.

Outside the classroom, muffled voices were already echoing down the hallway.

“Lunchtime!” Hoseok’s voice cut through the noise like a trumpet. “Let’s goooo, I’m starving.”

As students poured out into the corridor, Y/N grabbed her things and slung her denim jacket over one arm. Jimin stuck close by her side, nudging her playfully.

“You’re gonna marry him one day, y’know,” he whispered.

She scoffed. “I’d rather marry my Walkman.”

Jungkook, just ahead, turned slightly like he’d heard—but didn’t say anything. Just that little smirk again.

Outside the classroom, the rest of the crew was already waiting — Hoseok with a candy bar halfway to his mouth, Mina reapplying her lip gloss using the reflection in the vending machine, Jiwoo balancing her textbook on her head like a crown, and Yoongi leaning against the wall with his headphones in, pretending not to care.

“There they are,” Mina sang. “Finally. What took you so long—fighting again?”

“No,” Jimin said. “Just academic foreplay.”

Y/N elbowed him.

They all fell into step down the hallway, laughing, bumping shoulders, voices rising and falling in that chaotic harmony only best friends could make.

-

The cafeteria was full, so the group had claimed their usual spot — a half-shaded corner of the courtyard, where Hoseok’s guitar case was used as a bench and someone had definitely carved “KIM WAS HERE” into the picnic table.

Y/N popped a fry into her mouth while Jiwoo dramatically told the story of how she tripped over her own shoelaces that morning and almost took Mina down with her.

“It was like watching a slow-motion disaster,” Mina said between bites of her sandwich. “I literally felt my life flash before my eyes.”

“Don’t blame me!” Jiwoo whined. “These are the school’s floors, not mine. Slippery as hell.”

“Or maybe your boots are just for fashion, not function,” Yoongi muttered, eyes behind his sunglasses, sipping his iced tea.

Everyone laughed.

Jimin stole a grape off Y/N’s tray; she slapped his hand but offered him another anyway. Jungkook leaned back on his elbows beside her, legs stretched out in front of him, chewing gum and watching the clouds like he couldn’t care less about anything — except he kept glancing her way every now and then.

That was when Mark, Dongyeon, and Chanyeol strolled over, reeking of too much cologne and fake confidence.

Mark leaned against the end of the table. “Ladies.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Gentlemen. Or… whatever you are.”

Jiwoo choked on her drink.

Mina looked amused. “What’s up?”

“There’s a party at mine tonight,” Mark said. “Figured we’d invite the pretty half of this table.”

Chanyeol winked. “You girls should come. Bring that chaotic energy. We like that.”

Dongyeon added, “It’ll be fun. No parents, music, drinks... all the things good girls need to loosen up.”

The air shifted.

Yoongi pushed his sunglasses down, eyes sharp now. “You done?”

Mark blinked. “What?”

Jungkook sat up straighter. His gum hit the ground. “They said no.”

“No one actually said no,” Dongyeon muttered.

“They don’t have to,” Jimin said, voice light but eyes hard. “But since you’re not picking up on social cues, let me translate: no means no. Leave.”

Mark snorted. “Damn, relax. Didn't know they came with bodyguards.”

Hoseok stood. “And you didn’t come with manners.”

The courtyard quieted around them — not enough for teachers to notice, but enough for a few heads to turn.

Mark raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Message received.”

As the trio walked off, Chanyeol threw one last wink at Y/N. “Offer still stands.”

Before Y/N could respond, Jungkook said flatly, “She’s not interested.”

The second they were gone, Jiwoo broke the silence. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

“Ugh,” Mina rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t gonna go anyway. Their parties are just cheap beer and bad flirting.”

Y/N glanced at Jungkook, whose jaw was still tight. “You alright there, hero?”

He shrugged, not looking at her. “They’re just idiots. Doesn’t mean you have to listen to them.”

She smirked. “Aw, was that you caring?”

He gave her a look. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You so totally care,” Jimin said, grinning.

Jungkook kicked his shin under the table.

-

Mina’s place was their go-to hangout spot — big enough to fit the chaos of seven teenagers and loud enough that no one cared if someone accidentally knocked over a lamp during charades.

By the time they got there, shoes were already piled by the door and someone had claimed the remote. Jungkook tossed his backpack in the corner, flopped on the bean bag, and declared he wasn’t moving unless someone bribed him with snacks.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re already eating my chips.”

“Exactly. You bribed me without knowing.”

Mina and Jiwoo were arguing over which CD to play next — Backstreet Boys or Nirvana — while Hoseok tried to convince Yoongi to play a stupid card game he swore he wasn’t rigging.

Then the door creaked open.

Mina’s mom peeked in, smiling warmly. “Well, well, the usual suspects.”

“Hi, Mrs. Lee,” the chorus chimed.

She looked around the room like it brought her joy to see her daughter’s life laid out in laughter and tangled limbs.

“You all staying for dinner?” she asked.

“Only if you’re making your kimchi stew,” Jimin said brightly.

“Oh, I might be persuaded,” she teased — then turned to Mina, voice shifting.

“By the way, I ran into Mark’s mom at the store. She said Mark’s throwing a pre-end-of-semester party tonight. Apparently you girls turned down his invite?”

Mina froze halfway through detangling her hair. “Yeah, uh… wasn’t really our scene.”

Mrs. Lee gave her a pointed look. “Well, she seemed really disappointed. Said Mark had been looking forward to you girls coming. Poor thing, probably nervous about throwing a party.”

Jiwoo muttered, “Yeah, nervous is one word for it.”

But Mina’s mom had already decided. “You should go. Be polite. Just for a little while.”

The boys all exchanged looks. Jungkook’s eyebrows raised. “Did she just guilt-trip you into partying?”

“Apparently so,” Mina sighed.

“We’ll go,” Y/N said with a shrug. “We’ll make an appearance, sip some soda, judge his music choices, and dip.”

“You guys should come too,” Mina said, turning to the boys.

Jimin raised a brow. “You just assumed we’d follow you into social hell?”

“Yes,” Mina deadpanned. “Because you’re whipped for us.”

Hoseok clapped his hands together. “Alright, alright. One hour. That’s it. We go, we dance ironically, we leave.”

-

“No, you can’t wear that,” Jiwoo said, snatching a sparkly crop top out of Y/N’s hands.

“Why not?”

“Because I wanted it.”

The girls raided Mina’s closet like they were prepping for a concert instead of a high school party thrown by a boy who once got suspended for graffitiing his own locker.

Meanwhile, in the living room:

Jimin sprawled on the couch. “Should I change or do I already look too good for this party?”

“You wore that to biology,” Jungkook said.

“And still looked better than you,” Jimin replied.

Yoongi didn’t bother changing — he just swapped his hoodie for a leather jacket and called it a day.

By the time the girls came out — Mina in platform heels, Jiwoo in glitter, Y/N in a cropped tee and low-rise jeans — the boys actually stopped talking for a beat.

Hoseok let out a whistle. “Damn. Okay, maybe we do stay longer than an hour.”

Y/N looked at Jungkook. He looked… unreadable for half a second. And then he tossed her his car keys.

“You call shotgun.”

She caught them. “Why me?”

“Because if I have to suffer through Mark’s voice for an hour, at least I should have decent company.”

-

They stood outside Mina’s driveway, debating the car situation.

“Yoongi’s driving me,” Jimin said, already sliding into the passenger seat.

“Obviously,” Yoongi muttered.

Hoseok gestured to his car. “Girls, hop in.”

Mina paused. “Wait — where’s Y/N going?”

“I’ll take her,” Jungkook said before anyone else answered.

Y/N blinked. “You sure?”

He shrugged. “My car’s quieter.”

Mina raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything.

Y/N slipped into Jungkook’s passenger seat, tossing the keys back to him. “You always this generous with rides?”

He smirked. “Only with people who argue about Shakespeare like it’s a sport.”

The others pulled away, leaving just the two of them under the soft pink glow of the sunset.

The car doors shut.

The music turned low.

And for the first time all day — it was just the two of them.

Jungkook had one hand on the wheel, the other resting loose on the gearshift. The windows were cracked, letting in the breeze, and the stereo played something mellow — probably one of Yoongi’s burned CDs. Lo-fi with a bit of a grunge edge.

“You don’t mind giving me a ride?” Y/N asked casually.

He shrugged, eyes on the road. “Wouldn’t have offered if I did.”

“Could’ve made Jiwoo sit on Mina’s lap in Hoseok’s car.”

“I could’ve,” he said, smirking faintly. “But then you’d be stuck in a car with Dongyeon’s house in your future.”

She laughed. “God, imagine.”

“Don’t even joke about it.”

Y/N nudged his arm lightly. “What, jealous?”

Jungkook glanced at her, jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Of Dongyeon?”

“Of anyone,” she teased.

“Why would I be jealous?”

She tilted her head. “I dunno. You were awfully quick to shut them down earlier. Kind of heroic. Hot, even.”

He rolled his eyes, but she didn’t miss the way his grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

“They’re not good guys,” he said, quieter. “Not the kind who look at you the way they should.”

“And what’s the right way to look at me, Jeon?”

This time he glanced at her — really looked. And for a moment, his voice dropped, softer, less guarded.

“Like you’re not just something to win.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

The car settled into silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was thick with all the things they weren’t saying.

Then she smiled, leaning back again, breaking the tension. “So philosophical all of a sudden. You trying to win me over with depth now?”

He scoffed. “Nah. Just tired of guys who think throwing parties gives them the right to hit on whoever they want.”

“Sounds like someone’s taking this personally.”

He didn’t answer at first. Then:

“Maybe I am.”

That hung in the air.

She looked over at him again, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re being weird today.”

He glanced at her again, his voice low. “You make me weird.”

Her heart did a little stutter-step.

Before she could say anything, his phone buzzed in the console. He ignored it. Then it buzzed again. And again.

Y/N peeked over. “Someone’s popular.”

He glanced, saw the name, and rolled his eyes before flipping the phone facedown. “Just Hana. From science. She’s been weird lately.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Weird how?”

“She asked if I wanted to go to the party with her,” he said, casually, like it meant nothing. “I said no.”

“Oh?” Her tone was too light.

“Yeah.” A beat. “Didn’t want to go with anyone else.”

She looked out the window, hiding the tiny smile tugging at her lips. “You’re really laying it on thick tonight.”

He shrugged, a little smirk forming. “Maybe I’m finally done pretending I don’t mean it.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. But when they pulled up to the party house, music thumping faintly in the distance, she turned to him.

“I like this version of you.”

“What version?”

“The one that’s just a little jealous. And not afraid to show it.”

He glanced at her, cocky smirk replaced by something gentler.

“Stick around tonight,” he said, voice low. “You might like what else you find.”

-

The bass was already thumping by the time Jungkook pulled up along the curb, headlights washing over a line of cars crammed into Mark’s street. Multicolored lights leaked out through the living room windows. People milled around on the lawn, red solo cups in hand, yelling over music and laughter.

He killed the engine and looked over at Y/N. “You sure you wanna do this?”

She leaned forward, peering at the scene. “Not even a little.”

“Wanna ditch and hit the convenience store instead? Instant ramen and peach soda?”

She smiled, tempted. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Just then, Yoongi’s car pulled up behind them. Hobi’s headlights followed seconds later.

The gang regrouped on the sidewalk, dressed like a band of misfits forced into a high school teen drama.

“I already regret this,” Jiwoo muttered, tugging her jacket tighter around her.

“You and me both,” Yoongi sighed.

Mina groaned. “Let’s just go in, make a loop, and get out.”

As they approached the porch, the music grew louder—fast-paced 90s hip hop, all bass and no taste. Jungkook lingered close to Y/N, his shoulder brushing hers as they climbed the steps.

One of them knocked.

A beat passed.

Then the door cracked open—and there stood Mark, frozen mid-sip of his drink.

“Oh.” His eyes trailed over the girls first. “Didn’t think you were coming.”

Mina crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, my mom ran into your mom.”

Mark blinked. “Seriously?”

“She made us come,” Jiwoo added flatly. “So say thank you to Mrs. Lee.”

His gaze flicked to the boys. “Didn’t know this was a plus-one situation.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

Jungkook stepped forward, calm but unreadable. “We’ll only be here a bit. We won’t get in your way.”

Mark hesitated—clearly annoyed, but too proud to say no. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

He stepped aside, letting them in.

The second the door opened fully, music hit them like a wave. The living room was packed—kids dancing, some standing around the kitchen shouting over each other, the lights dimmed and replaced by neon strips and someone’s terrible strobe setup. A couple was already making out near the coat rack.

“Classy,” Yoongi muttered.

They filed in, awkwardly scanning the room.

“I need a drink,” Jimin said immediately.

“Peach soda doesn’t sound so bad now, huh?” Jungkook said to Y/N under his breath.

She grinned. “We’re committed. Let’s suffer.”

Hoseok motioned toward the kitchen. “We’ll do a lap. Grab snacks. Scout the exits in case we need to make a dramatic escape.”

As they moved deeper into the house, Mark disappeared into the crowd—but not before throwing one last look at Y/N.

Jungkook noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He didn’t say anything, but his hand brushed the small of her back, gently guiding her away from the doorway, his voice low in her ear.

“Stay close, yeah?”

-

The house was packed.

It smelled like cheap cologne, orange soda, and someone’s burned popcorn. The music bounced off the walls, some mixtape of late-90s bangers that had been left on loop. Every conversation was a shout, every hallway a squeeze.

Y/N stuck close to Jungkook’s side as they moved through the crowd, shoulder-to-shoulder in the worst way. Not that she minded. He was warm and familiar, even in the chaos.

He leaned in toward her, voice low in her ear. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, tugging on the hem of her borrowed top. “Just don’t feel like being here.”

He nodded. “Then don’t leave my side.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

They found the rest of the group gathered near the kitchen counter, already mid-debate about whether or not the red punch had alcohol in it.

Jiwoo took a cautious sip and cringed. “That’s a no from me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Hoseok said, dramatically wiping down the countertop with a napkin. “The vibe here is sticky.”

Suddenly, a too-familiar voice rang out across the kitchen.

“Well, look who finally showed up.”

They turned just in time to see Chanyeol, drink in hand, flashing his signature too-wide smile.

He approached the girls first, eyes blatantly scanning Y/N, Mina, and Jiwoo.

“Thought you three were too good for this party,” he said, stopping a little too close. “Changed your minds?”

“Nope,” Mina replied. “Our moms did.”

Chanyeol smirked. “Lucky for me, then.”

Jungkook was beside Y/N in half a second, body angling slightly in front of hers.

Chanyeol noticed. Smirked wider.

“Relax, Jeon,” he said lazily. “Just saying hi to our guests.”

Jimin cut in with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “And now you’ve said hi. Congrats.”

Chanyeol shrugged and moved off, disappearing into the crowd with a wink Y/N pretended not to see.

Once he was gone, Jungkook exhaled slowly.

“You okay?” he asked her again, voice softer.

She nodded, but tucked herself just a little closer to his side.

“You’re sticking to me like glue tonight,” he teased gently.

Y/N gave a half-smile. “That a problem?”

“No,” he said quickly, eyes flicking to her mouth for a second too long. “It’s not.”

They stood like that for a moment—too close to be casual, too quiet to be normal.

Then Jimin appeared beside Y/N with a can of soda in hand.

“For you, m’lady,” he said with a mock bow.

She laughed and took it. “You’re too good to me.”

Jimin bumped her shoulder with his. “You doing okay?”

She gave him a small smile. “Better now.”

He looked at her knowingly, then at Jungkook. “He hasn’t left your side.”

“I haven’t let him,” she said, a little too honest.

Jimin’s expression softened. “That’s how it should be.”

Across the room, Chanyeol was watching again.

And Jungkook noticed.

He reached for Y/N’s hand without a word—just laced their fingers together like it had always been that way.

She looked down at their hands, then up at him, heart beating louder than the bass.

“Just so he gets the message,” Jungkook said, voice low.

She nodded. But they both knew it wasn’t really about Chanyeol anymore.

-

The party continued to pulse around them, but Y/N was only half-aware of it. She could feel Jungkook’s hand still wrapped around hers, thumb brushing gently across her knuckles like he was grounding himself with the contact.

His touch was calm. His energy? Not so much.

Across the room, Chanyeol was still watching — too casual, too smug — while Mark had reappeared, chatting up two girls from their chemistry class and throwing occasional glances in Y/N’s direction.

Jungkook noticed every single one.

“You alright?” she whispered to him, tilting her head just enough so only he could hear.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Just leaned a little closer, his breath brushing her ear as he murmured, “They keep looking at you like they’re waiting for me to slip up.”

She blinked. “Well, you haven’t.”

He gave a soft huff of amusement. “Don’t plan to.”

Just then, Mark sauntered over — red cup in hand, grin a little too practiced.

“Didn’t think you guys would last this long,” he said, eyes sweeping over their intertwined hands.

Jungkook didn’t let go.

“We were about to bounce, actually,” Jiwoo said flatly, already reaching for her bag.

But Mark was quick. “Wait, hold up—me, Dongyeon, and Chanyeol were gonna head upstairs. Start a game.”

Y/N’s brow lifted. “A game?”

“Truth or dare,” he said smoothly. “Classic. Stupid. Fun.”

Jiwoo crossed her arms. “Sounds more like a setup.”

“C’mon,” Chanyeol chimed in, appearing behind him with that lopsided grin. “Just the group of us. Old-school. Like spin-the-bottle but less gross.”

“Can’t promise that,” Dongyeon added, smirking.

The girls exchanged a glance.

Mina rolled her eyes but smiled. “We’ll come only if the boys come too.”

Mark laughed. “Wasn’t gonna exclude them. Especially not Jungkook.”

He clapped Jungkook’s shoulder — a little too hard, a little too familiar.

Jungkook didn’t even blink. Just smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Lead the way.”

Y/N squeezed his hand once.

“Are we seriously doing this?” she whispered as they followed the group toward the stairs.

“Apparently.”

“You’re not gonna kiss Chanyeol if the bottle lands on him, right?”

He looked over at her, deadpan. “Only if you kiss Dongyeon.”

She burst into laughter, leaning into his arm, and just like that — the air between them was warmer again. But something electric hummed underneath.

Because they were heading upstairs.

And if there’s one thing high school parties in the 90s were famous for…

It was what happened when the dares got too real.

-

The group slowly filed in, forming a lopsided circle on the carpet. Jiwoo and Mina plopped down first. Yoongi settled beside Hobi near the corner, arms crossed and expression unreadable as always.

Y/N went to sit in the space between Jimin and an empty spot—clearly left for Jungkook.

Jungkook followed right after her.

But just as he stepped forward—

Chanyeol slid right in, shoulder bumping Jungkook’s arm as he casually dropped down next to Y/N.

“Oops,” Chanyeol said with a smirk, not even looking up. “This spot taken?”

Y/N blinked, startled. “Oh—uh—”

Jungkook froze.

For half a second, his jaw clenched. His eyes dropped to Chanyeol’s hand, which had conveniently braced itself on the carpet a little too close to Y/N’s leg.

But Jungkook said nothing. Just exhaled through his nose and moved to sit on the other side of Jimin, opposite her now.

Jimin noticed everything.

He leaned slightly toward Y/N and gave her arm a gentle nudge. “Don’t worry. He’s fine. He just doesn’t want to ruin the game by launching Chanyeol through a wall.”

Y/N tried not to laugh—but it bubbled out anyway.

Chanyeol didn’t notice. Or pretended not to.

Instead, he turned to her, lowering his voice with faux sincerity. “Haven’t seen you around much this semester. You good?”

She gave a polite nod. “Yeah. Just been busy.”

“With Jungkook?” he asked, with that too-sweet tone.

She tilted her head, answering without hesitation. “Yeah. With Jungkook.”

Across the circle, Jungkook smirked quietly to himself.

“Alright!” Hoseok clapped his hands, grabbing a battered glass soda bottle from the shelf. “Shall we get this 90s cliché started?”

“Let’s,” Yoongi muttered.

Mina spun first. It landed on Jiwoo, who ended up doing a silly dance move in the middle of the circle.

Then Jiwoo spun. “Truth or dare, Dongyeon?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to compliment Mark. With genuine emotion.”

The room howled.

It was lighthearted. Silly. And for a moment, everyone relaxed.

The bottle moved again. Jimin took a truth and admitted he once got detention for dancing too hard in gym class.

Then it was Chanyeol’s spin.

It stopped on Y/N.

“Oh boy,” Mina murmured under her breath.

Chanyeol leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Truth or dare?”

Y/N hesitated for half a beat. “Truth.”

“Alright,” he said, grin stretching. “Who in this room do you think has the biggest crush on you?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped up.

The room went quiet for a second, the energy shifting ever so slightly.

Y/N stared at Chanyeol. He was enjoying this.

Jimin, beside her, muttered under his breath, “You can say ‘pass’ if he keeps being weird.”

But Y/N just smiled sweetly and turned to glance at Jungkook across the circle.

Then, calmly, she looked back at Chanyeol.

“Easy,” she said. “The guy who knows not to ask questions just to prove a point.”

Oof.

Yoongi gave a short, quiet laugh.

Even Hoseok raised his brows. “Damn.”

Jungkook’s mouth tugged into a grin — small but real.

And for the first time all night, Chanyeol looked caught off guard.

The game continued, but now there was a silent undercurrent flowing between Y/N and Jungkook. Every glance, every brush of eye contact held more weight.

-

The game kept going, the circle relaxing again after the slight spike in tension.

Mark got dared to sing a random love ballad with his eyes closed. (He chose the cheesiest one possible — everyone regretted it.)

Yoongi, when asked for a truth, revealed he once broke a vending machine at school and walked away pretending nothing happened. (“We knew it was you,” Hoseok said flatly.)

Then Mina spun the bottle, and it landed on Hoseok.

“Truth or dare, dance captain?” she asked with a grin.

Hoseok dramatically sighed. “Dare.”

“I dare you to text your crush right now and say ‘I’m thinking about you.’ No context.”

Half the room screamed.

“Do I have to send it?” he groaned.

“Yes!” Mina shouted.

He pulled out his phone, muttering, “I swear, if this ruins my life…”

They watched as he typed and hit send, dramatically flinging his phone face down on the floor.

“That’s tomorrow’s problem,” Jimin said, high-fiving him.

The laughter continued. Y/N started to genuinely relax, resting her arm against Jimin’s and occasionally glancing at Jungkook, who caught her eye more than once from across the circle. Every time, it felt like their own private thread pulling tighter.

Then it was Jimin’s turn.

He spun the bottle with too much flair. It rattled, clinked, and landed…

…on Jungkook.

“Ohhh,” Mina teased. “Finally.”

“Truth,” Jungkook said coolly, brushing a hand through his hair.

Jimin grinned like he’d been waiting.

“Alright, be honest. When was the exact moment you realized you liked someone in this room?”

The group immediately ooooooh’d like a sitcom audience.

Y/N tried not to freeze.

Jungkook didn’t blink. He leaned back slightly, one arm draped over his knee, expression unreadable but eyes locked on Jimin’s.

“You���re assuming I like someone in this room.”

“You didn’t say no,” Jimin replied, smug.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Jungkook shrugged. “Okay. It was the second week of school last year.”

Y/N blinked.

“That’s… weirdly specific,” Jiwoo said.

Jungkook didn’t elaborate.

He just looked briefly—so briefly—at Y/N.

And her heart stuttered.

Mina leaned over to Jimin, whispering behind her hand, “We are SO steering the next one.”

Jimin nodded solemnly. “Let’s make history.”

Next spin landed on Jiwoo, who had to wear a kitchen glove on her head for the next five minutes. (“This is bullying,” she said while posing like a queen.)

Then Mina took her turn.

The bottle spun.

And it landed between Y/N and Jungkook.

The group paused. So did Y/N’s breath.

Mina tilted her head dramatically. “Hmmm… we’ll let fate decide.”

She reached over, adjusted the bottle slightly (not subtly), and smiled.

“Looks like it’s Y/N.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “That bottle didn’t even stop moving yet.”

“It did emotionally,” Jimin added, nodding.

Mina smirked. “Truth or dare, sweetheart?”

Y/N glanced across the circle. Jungkook wasn’t smirking like the others. He was just watching her—quietly.

“Truth,” she said.

Mina didn’t miss a beat.

“If you could kiss someone in this room tonight... would you?”

Another beat of silence.

Jiwoo gasped. “That’s not even fair!”

“It’s just a question,” Mina said innocently.

Jimin, beside Y/N, leaned in. “Be brave.”

Y/N looked down, fiddling with the hem of her jeans.

Then she glanced up—only at Jungkook—and said:

“Yes.”

Not loud. Not bold.

But sure.

And just like that, the room seemed to still for a second too long.

Someone cleared their throat. Mark started laughing awkwardly. Jiwoo broke the tension with a joke about wanting another soda.

But Jungkook?

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver.

-

The room hadn’t quite recovered from Y/N’s answer.

The air felt heavier now — not uncomfortable, just charged.

Y/N could feel Jungkook’s stare, even when she looked away.

Mina tried to act casual. “Okay. Who’s next?”

Jungkook leaned forward, grabbed the bottle without a word, and spun it with two fingers — smooth, controlled, almost lazy.

It clinked around the circle once… twice…

Then landed on Mina.

“Ugh,” she groaned dramatically. “Knew I shouldn’t have interfered with fate.”

“Truth or dare?” Jungkook asked, calm as ever.

She narrowed her eyes. “Dare.”

Jungkook tilted his head slightly. “I dare you… to pick two people in this room to switch seats.”

Mina blinked. “That’s your dare?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Use it wisely.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Mina took about two seconds to think before pointing between Chanyeol and Jungkook.

“Switch.”

Chanyeol groaned. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she said sweetly. “You’re in Jungkook’s seat.”

Jungkook didn’t wait for permission. He stood, walked back across the circle, and this time, dropped down right beside Y/N.

No one said anything, but they didn’t have to.

Y/N could feel the heat of him now — how close he was, the subtle way his knee brushed hers as he leaned back on one arm, gaze forward but attention on her.

The game went on — more spins, more laughs, more noise — but none of it registered.

Because now it was Y/N and Jungkook.

Side by side.

His voice dropped near her ear when the others were distracted by Mark doing a handstand.

“Was your answer earlier for real?” he asked quietly.

Y/N turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze.

“You asking because you want to dare me to prove it?”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

She raised a brow, whispering, “Then ask.”

A long pause.

Then—

“Mina,” Jungkook called across the circle, voice casual. “Dare for Y/N.”

Mina looked up from where she was watching Hoseok try to chug orange soda. “What?”

“She said truth before. I’m saying dare now.”

The group oooh’d again.

Y/N felt her pulse in her throat.

Mina, grinning like the chaos fairy she was, nodded. “Alright. Dare it is.”

Jungkook turned to Y/N — slowly, deliberately.

“I dare you to kiss someone in this room.”

Everything stopped.

The music downstairs. The laughter. Even the buzz of cheap light bulbs overhead seemed to fade into static.

Y/N didn’t hesitate.

She leaned forward, caught Jungkook’s collar between her fingers, and kissed him.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t overdone.

But it was real.

Too real for a party game.

His hand came up to her jaw, warm and steady, holding her like he’d wanted to for ages.

No one spoke. No one dared to.

Because even if it was just a dare…

Everyone in the room knew:

That kiss wasn’t part of the game.

-

The party buzzed on without them.

Laughter still echoed down the hall, muffled behind closed doors. Music thumped faintly beneath their feet. But none of it mattered anymore.

Because Y/N was slipping on her jacket, and Jungkook was already holding the door open for her.

They didn’t say anything as they stepped out into the cool night air.

Just moved together — side by side, like muscle memory — until they reached his car parked on the street out front, quiet under a flickering streetlamp.

Jungkook opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

She did.

He walked around, climbed into the driver’s seat, but didn’t turn the key.

Instead, he leaned back, exhaled slowly, and tilted his head up toward the sky.

“Look,” he said softly. “You can actually see stars tonight.”

Y/N followed his gaze.

The sky above was velvet-dark, scattered with tiny pinpricks of light — rare for their town, rare for nights like this.

“You ever think about how crazy that is?” she murmured. “That those stars are millions of years old? And we’re just… here. Existing beneath them for a second.”

Jungkook looked at her. Not the stars.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think about that every time I’m near you.”

She turned to him, breath catching.

“I’m serious,” he added, quieter now. “You walk into a room, and everything slows down. Like the universe forgot what it was doing and just… paused.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s… kind of the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He gave a lopsided smile. “Well, I don’t say it to just anyone.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. The kind only possible between two people who’ve known each other too long to pretend. The kind that held a weight — not of pressure, but of possibility.

Jungkook leaned forward, resting his arms on the steering wheel.

“You meant it, didn’t you?” he asked. “During the game.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Did you?”

He smiled again. “You kissed me first.”

She laughed softly, turning toward him. “Only because you dared me to.”

“Only because I wanted you to,” he said.

Her heart fluttered. Like it used to when she was younger. Like it always did around him.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers on the center console.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low, “I don’t know what this is. I don’t even know when it started. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since… forever.”

Her fingers turned and laced through his.

“You don’t have to,” she said gently. “I don’t want you to.”

The silence returned — this time warmer, wrapped in headlights and starlight and soft glances that said everything words couldn’t.

Neither of them said “I like you” or “let’s make this official”.

They didn’t need to.

Because right then, in the quiet hum of Jungkook’s car, watching the sky that had seen them grow up…

They knew something had changed.

And neither of them wanted to go back.

-

The drive home was quiet — but in the best way.

Jungkook had the windows rolled down halfway. The cool night breeze slipped in, playing with strands of Y/N’s hair as she leaned back in her seat, half-smiling to herself.

He glanced at her when they stopped at a red light. “What?”

She shrugged, barely looking over. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

She turned to him with a lazy grin. “Okay. Maybe I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

She hesitated. Then, softly: “About how weird it is that… tonight felt kind of perfect.”

His grip on the steering wheel relaxed.

“Yeah,” he said. “It really did.”

They pulled up in front of her house a few minutes later.

The porch light was still on — a warm, yellow glow washing over the front steps. The rest of the house looked dark.

Jungkook stepped out first, rounding the car to open her door without even thinking.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “You know I’m capable of doing that myself.”

“I know,” he said. “Still wanted to.”

She stepped out, and for a second, they just stood there on the path, their arms brushing.

The energy between them had changed since the party — softer now, but still buzzing underneath their skin.

At the doorstep, they slowed.

Neither made a move to unlock the door just yet.

“So…” she murmured.

“So…” he echoed.

They both laughed quietly. The air smelled like summer grass and sleep.

“I had fun,” she said.

“I had more.”

She raised a brow. “Competitive even now?”

“Only when it comes to you.”

She rolled her eyes again — but this time, she was smiling too wide to hide.

He stepped a little closer.

The space between them was so small now.

“I’m really glad you kissed me,” he said softly.

Y/N’s breath caught. “I’m really glad you dared me to.”

And then, finally—

A kiss.

Not like the one at the party.

This one was gentle. Slow. The kind of kiss that said we don’t have to rush anything — we’re here now.

It lingered for a moment, both of them quietly afraid to pull away.

But then—

A small voice from behind the screen door broke the silence.

“Oooohh I am so telling Mom.”

Y/N jumped, nearly stumbling back as the porch light flickered behind the front window.

Her seven-year-old sister stood there with a juice box in her hand and the smuggest look in the universe.

“Mina!” Y/N gasped. “What are you—why are you awake?!”

Mina just blinked innocently. “I was getting apple juice. And then I saw you kissing a boy.”

Jungkook awkwardly cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.

Mina pointed straight at him. “You’re really handsome.”

Y/N groaned. “Oh my god.”

“Are you her boyfriend?” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“Uhhh…” Jungkook looked like he was about to melt into the ground. “Something like that?”

“Cool,” she said, then turned to Y/N. “Can I be the flower girl at your wedding?”

“Mina, GO TO BED!”

Still grinning, Mina turned and walked back inside, mumbling something about “diaries” and “blackmail.”

Y/N covered her face with both hands.

“I swear, she’s not usually like that.”

Jungkook just laughed, eyes crinkling as he stepped backward down the porch steps.

“I like her. She’s chaotic. Like you.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

He smiled. “Night, Y/N.”

And with one last look — the kind that held way too much affection for a single glance — he turned and headed for his car, disappearing down the street as the porch light flickered softly behind her.

-

The morning sun was lazy, bleeding gold across the sidewalk as Y/N walked beside Jimin on their usual route to school.

He was sipping iced coffee from a cup twice the size of his hand, eyebrows raised as he watched her try (and fail) to hide a very suspicious smile.

“…So,” he said, drawing it out.

“So,” she replied.

“You’ve been quiet for approximately two and a half blocks, and you never shut up in the morning. Something’s up.”

She side-eyed him. “I don’t always talk.”

“You once recited your entire math homework aloud just to ‘hear how stupid it sounded.’”

Y/N tried not to laugh. “Okay, fair.”

“So…” Jimin bumped her arm lightly. “You and Jungkook.”

She blinked. “What about us?”

He gave her a deadpan look.

“Y/N, please. You sat next to each other at lunch yesterday like two magnets that just learned what touch was. And you haven’t stopped smiling since we left your house.”

She hesitated, cheeks warming.

“We kissed,” she said quietly.

Jimin nearly tripped on the curb. “I knew it! I knew there was weird tension at that party!”

“He kissed me back,” she added.

Jimin beamed. “You say that like it’s not the most obvious thing in the world that he’s obsessed with you.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, swatting him, but she was grinning now.

They reached the school gates, voices blending into the morning rush. Students poured in from all sides, some dragging feet, others already cracking jokes and chasing each other up the stairs.

But before they could even reach the front steps—

“Y/N!”

Chanyeol’s voice cut across the crowd like a bad ringtone.

She winced. Jimin rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle he didn’t see the future.

Chanyeol jogged up beside them, brushing his messy hair out of his face.

“Hey,” he said, giving Y/N a grin. “You left early last night.”

“Yeah, just got tired,” she said, keeping it short.

Chanyeol leaned a little too close. “We didn’t even get to finish talking.”

“We didn’t start talking,” Jimin muttered.

Chanyeol ignored him. “Anyway, I was thinking maybe we could hang out this weekend? Just us. Something chill—”

“She’s busy,” Jimin cut in flatly.

Chanyeol blinked. “How would you know?”

“Because she has better taste.”

Y/N sighed, already inching toward the doors, but Chanyeol wasn’t done yet.

“I don’t get it,” he said, louder now. “We’ve known each other forever—why are you acting like I’m some creep?”

“Because you are,” Jimin said, smile sharp.

“Dude, back off.”

Chanyeol glared, but Jimin stood his ground, and after a tense pause, Chanyeol scoffed and walked off, shaking his head.

Y/N sighed in relief. “Thanks.”

Jimin just gave a tiny smirk, tapping his coffee cup like he’d just come up with something evil.

“…What?” she asked warily.

“Oh, nothing,” he said sweetly. “I just had an idea.”

-

The courtyard was packed during lunch — bright sun, open tables, and every group claiming their territory across the grass.

Jimin sat beside Jungkook, chewing on his straw, leaning in like he was sharing state secrets.

“You want me to what?” Jungkook said, blinking.

“Just one kiss. Quick. Soft. Maybe a little showy,” Jimin said. “You don’t even have to dip her dramatically, though that would be iconic.”

“Hyung…”

“Chanyeol won’t stop pestering her,” Jimin said seriously. “And Y/N doesn’t like confrontation. But you? You’re the statement.”

Jungkook glanced across the courtyard. Y/N was sitting with Jiwoo and Mina under the big tree, legs crossed, laughing at something.

And Chanyeol was, not so subtly, hovering nearby.

Jaw tightening, Jungkook stood.

Jimin grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

Across the grass, Y/N looked up just as Jungkook approached — hands in his pockets, jaw sharp under the sun, confidence in every step.

He didn’t say anything.

Just walked up.

She stood instinctively, confused. “Jungkook—?”

Before she could finish, he gently cupped her face, leaned down, and kissed her.

Right there.

In front of half the school.

It wasn’t aggressive. Wasn’t rushed.

Just a kiss that said she’s mine. This is real. We’re done playing around.

When he pulled back, her eyes were wide — stunned, heart thudding, hands still frozen midair like she forgot how to move.

And then he smiled — really smiled — and turned, walking back to his table without a word.

Around them, the courtyard exploded.

“OHHHHHHH!”

“WHAT?!”

“HOLY—”

Jiwoo screamed. Mina screamed. Someone from the basketball team yelled, “FINALLY.”

And off to the side…

Chanyeol stood completely still.

Mouth slightly open.

Then he turned and walked away without another word.

Defeated.

Jimin leaned back with his arms crossed, sunglasses on indoors, sipping from his straw like a smug villain.

"Park jimin you wizard. How'd you pull this off?" Hoseok gasped next to him, seeing the look on Jimin's face was enough to tell he was behind this.

He simply smirked. "I did nothing really, they did this to themselves."

"Chanyeol's probably pissed." Yoongi says with a pleased smile, eyes looking back down at his ukulele from the newly announced couple.

Y/N turned slowly back to her seat, dazed.

“Are you okay?” Mina asked between gasps of laughter.

“I… I think I just got publicly claimed,” Y/N whispered.

And somewhere in the distance, Jungkook smiled.

-

Later that night, the sky over town stretched wide and quiet. The streets had gone still. The party echoes and school gossip had long since faded.

But up on Jungkook’s rooftop — a little above it all — two people sat side by side on a blanket, legs dangling over the edge, the night humming gently around them.

The stars were scattered like salt, and the air was cool enough to press them closer.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Y/N murmured, nudging him with her shoulder.

He looked over, grinning. “Did what?”

“You know what.”

“Oh, you mean the epic, public, once-in-a-lifetime kiss in front of the entire school?”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You’re so annoying.”

“You kissed me back,” he said.

“You kissed me first.”

They both laughed quietly.

The kind of laugh that felt like something new beginning.

“Was it too much?” he asked after a pause. “Too showy?”

Y/N looked at him for a long moment.

And then, simply: “No. It was perfect.”

A breeze drifted between them, and she leaned into his side, head on his shoulder.

They sat like that for a while. No rush. No pressure.

Just two people who had always almost been something… now finally were.

“You know,” she said after a while, voice soft, “I used to think we were just too different.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. You’re loud, I’m quiet. You’re chaos, I’m… slightly less chaos.”

He smirked. “You’re a different kind of chaos.”

She giggled, then went quiet again.

“But then,” she added, “I realized maybe that’s the point. We balance each other out.”

He looked down at her, warmth in his eyes.

“You’re my favorite balance,” he whispered.

She smiled.

“You’re my favorite everything.”

And then he kissed her again.

Not like the one from earlier — not to prove anything, not to claim or perform or make a scene.

Just to feel her smile against his lips.

And when they pulled apart, the stars still above them and the town still asleep below—

“You used to fight me over grammar, you know?” Y/N said, bumping her shoulder against his.

Jungkook smirked. “Only so I could talk to you without sounding obvious.”

She laughed. “Obvious about what?”

He looked at her — soft, a little smug. “Liking you.”

Her breath caught just slightly, but she covered it with a playful eye roll. “Still never beat me in English though.”

He shrugged, that same boyish grin tugging at his lips. “Maybe not. But I did get the girl.”

a/n : btw if you can't already tell, I loved writing this and am currently kicking my feet over my own story and I usually NEVER re-read my stories after it's posted. hehehehe, like, reblog and lmk what you lovelies think below mwahh

[sun-marie]

Isabela may have been slightly out of her depth when she decided to take in Lydia, an untrained mage child, but thankfully Anders is looking for a mage-friendly place beyond the Templar's eyes 👀

More info under the cut <3

(screenshots from chatting with a friend in discord <3)

I've mentioned here before how Lydia was trained by both Anders and Isabela, so I wanted to explore that a little bit more!

Despite semi-raising a child together, Anders and Isabela don't become romantically involved with each other. They do become closer friends through their shared love of Lydia than they ever were in Kirkwall, though.

While she was close to both of them, saying Isabela and Anders "raised" Lydia wouldn't really be accurate, as neither really filled in a parent role. While Anders was the more traditional "mentor" figure for Lydia, Isabela was more like her Much Older Buddy (for better and for worse). Lydia still had a lot of freedom as a child once she escaped enslavement, and was often involved with the Lords without either of them.

Lydia's Dagger-and-Orb fighting style is a result of being trained by both of them, as she wasn't making much progress with the traditional mage staff.

Being so familiar with Anders and the spirit of Justice possessing him is a big part of the reason Lydia is so unfazed with Spite possessing Lucanis, even if the circumstances are Different

[gentlelovingsiscon]

your big sister Lena moved in with you today. you picked her up at home in a U-Haul you'd rented for the day; dad helped you pack all of her things into the truck, while mom harassed her oldest daughter about being responsible and getting a job quickly. you watched between trips, arms full of boxes, as your big sister shrank bit by bit into herself.

“don't worry, mama, you know i'll be keeping an eye on her!” you said. mom smiled, but you cringed when your sister shrank just a little bit bit more. you'd have to make it up to her. maybe on the way out you could stop at that ice cream place you both loved as kids.

the first thing she said when she got in the truck was a pitifully murmured “i'm sorry…”

you bravely resisted the urge to whip your head around and slam on the brakes, instead choosing to take a deep breath and ask her “why?”

“you… you need me to get a job so that we can live together. and most days i can't even get out of bed, so i'm just gonna be a-”

“mom and dad didn't tell me that. you can't get out of bed?”

“no, i just- college was hard. i'm just still tired after graduation. i'll be better soon, it's okay. don't worry about me.”

“you spent our entire childhoods worrying over me, it's my turn!”

mercifully, she chuckled, and a ball of tension in your chest you didn't know was there loosened by a fraction. “can we stop at-”

“Polly's? come on, you haven't even been looking at where we're going, have you?” you teased.

she went red, finally looking up from her lap as you pulled into the parking lot of Polly's, the local ice cream place. “oh.”

you smiled over at her. it took a second, but she met your eyes, noticed your smile, and gave a small smile back.

two ice cream cones, several pit stops, and four hours later, you pulled up to your house. you share rent for the place along with three other girls, all of whom you've kissed at one point or another, with varying levels of seriousness. they all approved of your sister moving in, helping you clear out the fifth bedroom that you'd all been using as storage so she'd have her own room. they'd even pitched in to buy her a bed (albeit a cheap one off of Amazon, but still).

you sent the house group chat a message before you let your sister get out of the U-Haul. by the time she got out and started moving towards the back of the truck with a resigned slump, a butch and a very fit femme had hustled past her, said “hi, nice to meet you, we've heard so much about you, let us get your things for you” and handed her off to the last member of your household, Sarah.

Sarah smiled sweetly at you, gave you a peck on the cheek, and took your sister by the arm. “hey! Lena, right? Penny talks about you all the time. nice to meet you, i'm Sarah. we made plenty of dinner earlier, you want some?”

“i- sure. yeah.”

Sarah threw you a smile over her shoulder. you smiled back.

a few hours later, thanks to the efforts of two butch lesbians and two fit femmes, Lena is moved in and unpacked and your housemates have vanished back into the metaphorical woodwork, leaving you to spend time with your sister alone.

“your bed is so comfy,” she says. “wish i could sleep here…”

your blush covers your entire face, and you go a little light headed. no, keep a lid on it. you're fine. she doesn't mean it like that.

“i've been saving up money. in a couple months, i can get you one just like it, if you want.”

“no! you don't- it's fine. my bed will be fine. don't worry about it, Penny, it's fine, i'll have a job soon and then i'll- i'll be able to buy my own bed.”

your blush cools off, replaced instead with anger at your mom and dad. you slide a little closer to her, “you let me take care of you, Lena, or i swear to god-"

“fine, god you freak!” she half-shouts, scooting away from you by a couple inches. not too far, though. “what kind of idiot sister wants to take care of an invalid like me any-”

you lunge at her, and she lets it happen. falls back on the bed as you push her down by the shoulders and straddle her, pinning her arms to her side as you shout “take it back! say something nice about yourself!”

she grins, comfortable in the familiar motions even with unfamiliar words. you've never actually beat her in a fair fight, but whenever you jump on her like this she always goes down easy.

“no,” she says.

you grin, and your hands leave her shoulders. it takes her a second to realize what you're about to do, but by the time she goes to mount a defense it's far too late. your hands are already dancing up and down her sides, only half-blocked by her arms and your legs. she guffaws and bucks, trying to get you off of her. but this is the only way you've ever won a fight with her; underhanded tricks.

“oh- hahaha! - okay, i give up! i- wheeze - i'm smart!!”

you relent, panting for breath yourself and unconsciously leaning forward. for a second you don't realize what kind of position you're in. the top of your head is buried in the pillow next to your big sister's head, your mouth right next to her ear, your bodies pressed against each other.

it slips out of you involuntarily, said a million times to Sarah in situations far too like this, but now rushed out in one breath into your sister's ear: “good girl.”

Lena shivers, whispers “whu…?”

and suddenly you've come back to yourself. the position that you're in is clear, and you scramble off your sister. she stares at you with wide eyes, your own like saucers staring back. your faces are both flushed, and you're panting. your big sister turns her face away, and you thank god that she's not looking when you reach down to adjust your hardon.

your hand comes out of your pants begrudgingly, feeling hypersensitive and needing to do something about it. maybe once you're done hanging out with Lena you can go fuck Sarah into her mattress. maybe she'll let you call her ‘big sister’ again.

Lena looks back over at you, and your blush gets deeper.

“sorry,” you say, “i just… Sarah does that a lot, and when she-" you swallow your tongue, aware that you're digging the hole deeper with every breath.

Lena turns to you with interest. “so you and Sarah, huh? mom and dad definitely don't know about her, or i'd have heard about this way earlier. are you two dating, or what??”

“Lena!” you protest, “i'm not telling you that! that's private stuff, not-”

“no no, i know what you're about to say, but it's absolutely for sisters to talk about!”

you almost protest, almost tell her that the logic she used for everything when you were kids wouldn't work anymore, but… this is the happiest and most excited you've seen your big sister all day. so you open your stupid mouth, and you tell her the story of how you and Sarah started your relationship.

something about being alone with your big sister again for the first time in almost five years loosens the tight hold you keep on your heart and your tongue, and you tell her a nearly unredacted version of the story, sex scenes and all (though, admittedly, more of the ‘fade to black’ variety).

it's a long and embarrassing story, and Lena asks you for details, and you can't stop the words from tumbling out. you tell her how you and Sarah helped heal each other in a very real way. you shyly admit that's where your new confidence comes from. you blush when your sister tells you she thinks it's kind of hot.

“in a sisterly way, obviously.”

“obviously.”

at some point during the story, maybe when you're crying through the story about Sarah saving you from being assaulted, the distance between you vanishes, and everything feels right again. your sister holds you close, your legs tangled together while you fit neatly into her shoulder.

you finish the story, and your sister murmurs “oh babygirl…”

frustrated tears fill your eyes, though you're sure Lena takes them to be tears about the story you just finished telling. the problem is that you're so close to her right now. that your lips are hovering over her neck, that you're keenly aware of your cock tightly pressed between your bodies, that it's taking everything you have to not start grinding on your big sister's leg right now.

your hips buck, just a fraction of a twitch, and Lena becomes a flurry of limbs and movement that you can't parse for a second. then, a second later, you're on your back and your big sister is above you, her arms pillars to either side trapping your head in place. her brows are in a deep furrow, but her eyes are wide open and staring into yours. you stare back, unafraid. your sister would never hurt you.

“i'm sorry,” she says, then gives you everything you've ever wanted.

she all but collapses on top of you, no longer pillars but arms wrapping around you, fingers winding into your hair and tugging. you groan and your mouth opens; your big sister takes advantage of it and captures your lips with her own, her tongue snaking into your mouth. the rest of Lena's body relaxes and presses you into the mattress. you can't do anything but sit stock still, sure that this can't be real.

“i'm sorry, Penny, please… please i need you so bad, i can't- i can't help it anymore, please fuck me. please, Penny, i'm sorry, i need you to fuck me, i'm sorry,” she rambles. you groan incoherently, unsure if this is a dream or a nightmare.

before you can come to and say anything, Lena has already shifted and gotten your pants down far enough for your cock to spring free. she rubs on it for a moment, and you start whining.

“i know, i'm sorry! i'm sorry, please i just- fuck, please just let me- Penny please please please!”

you think you nod. probably frantically. Lena thinks you're scared, but you're really just desperate. you've been dreaming of this for years, and only hesitantly played it out a couple times with Sarah. you're trembling not out of fear, but out of excitement.

you stutter as Lena lifts herself up and starts to align her cunt with your cock. “please… want… you…” you manage to push out.

“no babygirl no no no, please don't say it! you keep talking about Sarah, please, please just- please i want you to be mine, Penny! please don't make me go!”

“yours… your- your sister, yours,” you groan. she lines up, resting your tip at her entrance.

tears fill your sister's eyes. “do you… do you mean it?” she asks.

then, before you can answer, she slams down onto you, taking your entire length down to the base in one smooth move. tears fill your eyes too, and you lean up to kiss your sister.

one more time, she lets you turn the tables and falls backwards as you tackle her. you land on top of her, pinning her down. “i love you,” you huff, pulling out halfway before snapping your hips to slam back into your sister. “i love you, sis.”

“i love you too, little sis…” she cries.

you lose track of how many times you cum inside your big sister that night. you fall asleep tangled together, half-hard and still inside her, your bodies and bed covered in slick cum. that's a problem for tomorrow.

[singto-prachaya]

I'm not sure if I should express this feeling. I've always thought that I don't want anyone to feel bad or receive negative energy from my messages, and deep down, I don't want to show that I'm weak.

But I think, as a human being, I should be able to share some of my feelings.

I just want to say that lately, I've been feeling tired from many things. Perhaps it's because a lot has been impacting my mind recently, both things I can control and things I can't. All I can do is smile through it, do my best every day, and live my life as well as any human being possibly can. I've come quite a long way in this career. I've lost some things along the way, but I've also gained many things in return, and of course, I'm still moving forward. I hope everyone has the strength to keep going and continue living their own lives together.

I don't like to force and will not try to force anyone to love and like me, and I know very well that there are many people who are more handsome than me, have better physiques than me, are more skilled than me, are more amiable than me, are more cheerful than me, are better at social media than me, have brighter eyes than me, and seem more like normal people than I do.

If you know all this and still like me, I am incredibly and truly grateful that you allow me to be myself. I will continue to develop myself in many areas so that I feel worthy of the love and admiration everyone has for me.

Thank you for loving Jimmy.

And

Thank you for loving Nong Ohm.

Thank you for the love. You desever it too.

I Love You

JIMMYOHM IS LOVED

Jimmy, I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You're one of the most lovely, warm, and kind-hearted people I've ever met in my life. I want to tell you that I love you so much, more than a colleague should ever think of loving. It's not just because you're handsome or taller than me or anything like that. It's because you're you, Jimmy. You've always been a wonderful person. I've told you before that I want you to be yourself to society without fearing anyone's disapproval, and even now, I still want you to be the person you want to be. You don't have to be as muscular as anyone else, or compare your handsomeness to others, or learn to use social media as much as I do. You don't have to be like anyone else, just be the Jimmy you're comfortable sharing with the world for others to admire. That's more than enough, seriously. I don't know what to do to make you love yourself the way I love you, and the way others love you, but I just want you to know that there are far more people in this world who love you and are ready to stand by you than you think. At least I'm one of them. You once said you don't like being comforted or coddled. Okay, I won't comfort you, and I won't tell you to be strong either. You can be as weak as you need to be. And I know you're already very strong and capable. You'll get through this period like the strong person who has always overcome challenges. Finally, I love you, Jimmy. I love you very much. When you wake up, please call me back or reply to my LINE message.

Over the past few days, we've had some tension, disagreed on things, and let various issues lead to misunderstandings. I'm sorry that I was part of what made things difficult recently. But please be assured, I definitely won't give up on us. And I know you won't give up on us either, Jimmy. Let's keep fighting for this, bit by bit. :-)

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 4

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: You and Harry date for a few weeks and as feelings arise, the lie gets harder to tell. Every time you try to tell him the truth, an obstacle gets in the way.

Author's note: Hello, dear readers and welcome to Part 4 of Camgirl! This story has been a pure joy to write. So much so that I've already banged out Part 5 as well and intend to drop it later on today! I had a marathon writing day and the story just wouldn't stop flowing until it was done. My brain wants to endlessly world build and explain every little minute detail (blaming you for this, Stephen King) when I'm working on a series, so it feels really good to have a clean cut story from beginning to end under my belt. One I'm both very fond of and very proud of. I'll save the sappy bit for Part 5's post, so in the meantime enjoy my very self indulgent chapter. We're leaning into Cam's goth girl status with this one, and the smut gets exploratory.

Warnings: Cursing; Drinking; THC; Fluff; Smut; Angst; A shit ton of feelings from both of them; Budding romance; Inner turmoil over lying; Reader is basically an OC at this point and I love her; Reader is thick; Reader is goth; Reader is a sex worker; Reader has pierced nipples; Reader makes movie references (vague spoilers for the films Carrie and Scream); Reader gets her period; Descriptions of cam sessions; Insinuated period sex; Getting fingered in a parking garage if you squint; Phone/Facetime sex; Mutual masturbation; Dirty talk; Halloween costumes.

Costumes Inspired by these two posts. Tell me you don't see it.

Minors DNI, Strictly 18+

Ao3

*****

You met Harry Castillo on the last Friday of August. By the last Friday of September you knew you were falling head over heels for him at record speed. 

Fast as it may seem to some, you’ve always been prone to falling quickly. Unlike Harry, you’ve definitely felt love for the few serious partners you’ve had over the years, even if that love was ultimately fleeting in the end. It always happens fairly early on in the relationship, but you’re also certain you’ve never been in love in that way the movies or books make you think you’re supposed to feel. If you had, you probably wouldn’t have been single the night you met Harry. You’d have been off somewhere married to some past beau. 

Being in love like that is what you want out of life more than anything, but you’ve never actually had that with someone, and so you’ve been stubbornly holding out for it. You’ve been the one to end things when that fiery passion just wasn’t there for you anymore. Or when an ex showed you a side of themselves you didn’t care to see, which changed your perspective of them as a person. You’ve also ended things when you realized that you didn’t like the person you’d become in the relationship. No one has ever pulled that movie sort of love out of you, and so no one has ever been the one as far as you’re concerned.

Life isn’t a movie, sure, but that sort of intense passion between lovers has to stem from some truth doesn’t it? We as humans wouldn’t feel the need to tell these stories and share the elation of finding our soulmates since the dawn of storytelling if none of it had any veracity behind it would we? Or is this concept a mythical thing that no one has really ever truly experienced, but we all claw at it endlessly in the hopes that it’s real? Is it similar to mankind clamoring to understand life after death even though it’s an impossible task? These are the questions you’ve been asking yourself for the better part of ten years, agonizing over them in the middle of the night when loneliness grips your heart and fear that it will never be held by the heart of another causes your mind to race. 

But then one beautiful man bumps into your shoulder at a charity event and in the blink of an eye your entire life changes as you know it, for better or for worse. 

As you predicted to Vanessa, Harry Castillo made the act of not loving him incredibly difficult. One month was all it took. One stupidly wonderful, perfect fucking month. A month of extravagantly romantic dates and gestures from the both of you. A month of beautiful fucking. A month of late night conversations, keeping each other awake well past the time when Harry should be getting to bed for work the next day. Your self made schedule with the cam site allows for you to stay up as late as you wish, but Harry has an entire company to run every morning. Monday through Friday, and some weekend days too when there’s a needy client or a big project which requires his oversight. 

A man like him should normally be thinking about work more than anything else, but not when he’s around you it would seem. His almost rebellious attitude towards getting up in the morning reminds you of sneaking around with the first boy you ever loved back in high school. 

He was a goth boy who taught you everything you know about black lipstick and heavy metal. You parents hated him for getting you into that style, but little did they know you’d been changing into all black and wearing spiked chokers to school for about a month before you and your goth boy started dating. He asked you out in the middle of the cemetery with a black rose. You said yes as he wrapped you in his leather trenchcoat on a chilly October day, and the rest was history. You’d sneak out of your bedroom window nearly every night to meet him, staying out getting high and having sex in his van until the sun was about to come up. Then you’d crawl back into your room, sleep for one hour or two, and make yourself get up for school the next day. How you managed to make it through an entire school day, go to play rehearsals, and not fail all of your classes was a testament to both teenage resilience and what falling in love does to a person. 

Which is why Harry’s warning about his lack of ability to feel it makes very little sense to you when he seems just like you did back then, wanting desperately to find any excuse to spend time together, even if just over the phone. Even at the detriment to his health the next day.

One night the two of you were on the phone until three in the morning, even though he had an early meeting with a client the following day. You eventually had to force him to hang up and go to sleep. He’d been halfway there anyway, and in his half-conscious state he’d mumbled sleepily into the receiver, “Should’a made Peter take that meeting. But if you were in this bed with me right now this wouldn’t be a problem. Hate sleeping without you. Bed’s too empty. Need your body next to mine. Voice is nice but it isn’t enough. Need all of you.” 

The way your heart fluttered with emotion for him was overwhelming, wondering if he even was awake enough to really know what he was saying or how laced with emotion of his own it sounded. While, subsequently, that guilt slowly chipping away at your heart was ever present. 

You’ve become so smitten with him that you’ll take any time he’s willing and able to give, but the more you and Harry get to know each other the worse that guilt is getting. When you’re with him, it’s so easy to push the feeling away and forget all about that stupid little seedling of a lie. A seedling which has now blossomed into a full fledged, tangled bush of treacherous thorns. Its bloody roses are a farce for the awful mangled roots which lie below the enticing red petals. When his presence is not there, it feels as if the thorny vines of the dark plant you’ve spawned have you wrapped in a chokehold, and the thorns are piercing your entire being. 

Waiting to tell him the truth, or your first excuse for it at least, stemmed from Vanessa’s suggestion to date him for a few weeks and see if you even really feel something for him. Vanessa later argued that she had not said it like that at all and she wanted you to come clean from the start. 

Your second excuse for not telling Harry the truth was his confession to you about his fears regarding love. Twice now you’ve started to make yourself do it, only to ask yourself the question, “Is telling him worth it if he may never love me?”

The only real explanation for why you still haven’t told him that you are not an erotica author but, in fact, an online escort, is that you simply and selfishly can’t face a rejection from Harry Castillo. You like him so much and you want him so bad. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anyone. One would think this would make you wish to build things on a foundation of trust from the start, but your fear of his rejection is driving you mad with anguish over the whole thing. Thinking logically doesn’t feel possible. 

It has you feeling just like the Beatles song, I want you (She’s So Heavy) . Repetitive, heavy, droning, and with a foreboding sense of teetering back and forth on the edge of some sort of precipice from which there’s no climbing out of. You once read, during a brief Beatles phase in eighth grade, that the song was written by John Lennon about his intense feelings for Yoko. A quote from Rolling Stone about the song stated Lennon as saying, "When you're drowning, you don't say, 'I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me.' You just scream."

And so every day that you let the lie progress further, the further you sink into the water and the more you scream. All the while Harry Castillo has a hand reaching for you just above the rippling surface, close enough to see his blurry fingers, but always just a little too far from your own struggling wet grasp.

*****

It really is on that last Friday of September that the realization of how far you have fallen for this man hits you. 

You got up early to do a cam session for one of your regular clients in another part of the world, and something just felt off from the start. Bloated and swollen, you unenthusiastically squeezed yourself into one of the tight outfits this client prefers and begrudgingly got on with it. When things got started and you began fucking yourself with the client’s favorite green tenacle dildo (not your preferred shape but most clients love it), you realized that the silicone was coming out covered in a crimson mixture of blood, natural arousal, and lube. 

Some clients are not big fans of periods and may have ended things early despite having paid for the hour upfront (add-ons get paid for after), but luckily this one noticed that you were bleeding and ran wild with it. It took more effort as an actress on your part, but you pushed yourself through the difficult hour to get the hefty deposit into your secret bank account on the other side. Once the funds clear, then they get transferred into your normal bank account. Another layer of security to protect yourself. 

You hadn’t even felt like cumming afterwards like you normally do, feeling none of the sexual gusto that comes from getting your clients off. Usually your cam sessions make you feel powerful and sexy, but today you just simply feel like crap.

Bleeding in front of a client isn’t the issue. You’ve done it before, and it’s easy to charge extra for your services if your period is going to play a role, but your cramps and mood are far too extreme for you to feel any enthusiasm for what you just did. Or anything, for that matter. 

So after cleaning and locking up the studio you shower, unceremoniously shove a tampon in, throw on comfortable clothes, and crawl into bed. Which is where you stay for the remainder of the afternoon. 

Around 3pm your phone buzzes on the pillow next to yours, pulling your attention from the horror movie playing on the small television propped up on the black dresser. It’s not a flat screen smart TV riddled with glitches and shitty streaming services, it’s a real honest-to-god television. Equipped with a VCR and DVD Player. No wifi, just you and your beloved movies. 

Reaching over for the more modern device, a smile spreads across your flushing face and your chest swells a little at the new notification. It’s Harry. 

He must be taking a break from work, and given that it’s Friday you’re sure he’s going to ask if you’ll let him take you out. That’s always how he phrases these things; let him . Harry’s a man who won’t do anything without permission first, and you adore letting him do all sorts of things, but today you just don’t have a night out of the house in you. 

Harry Castillo: Hey, sweetheart. Thinking about you. How’s your day going?

Anxiety spikes in you for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He probably thinks you’ve been working on writing all day. Something's got to give with this sooner or later, but then you would have to grow a pair. Since that isn’t happening today of all days, you once again shove the guilt far far down and start up a conversation with him. He must really be on a break from work, because he responds to you immediately each time you respond to him.

You: Hi, handsome. Been thinking about you today too. I accomplished a pretty big goal this morning, but I started my period. I feel pretty awful. :(

Harry Castillo: Poor thing. I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well. Are you taking care of yourself?

You: Trying to take it easy. I’m laying in bed watching a movie. 

Harry Castillo: Good, you should rest. I was reaching out to see if you wanted to get dinner, but I’m guessing that’s a no?

You: Yeah, I don’t have that in me tonight. Thank you for offering though. How’s work?

Harry Castillo: Boring, but productive. Peter and I are working on inventory reports for the end of the month. Mind numbing stuff. Might call it for the day and head to the gym, though. Ready to start my weekend. What movie are you watching?

You: Carrie. I figured I should watch something in-theme with my misery. It’s almost over, she’s already dancing with Tommy Ross at the prom. Glad work’s productive, but boooo to it being boring. Are you really gonna leave early?

Harry Castillo: I remember that one. Good movie. Got another lined up for after? 

Harry Castillo: I think I will leave early. I am the boss after all, I can come and go as I please. ;) Besides, we’re nearly done with the report. Peter can finish up here.

You: Yessss abuse your powerrrr. Sexy as hell. lol. ;) And yeah, I was thinking Scream next. A comfort movie from my youth to soothe me. 

Harry Castillo: You know, I’ve never seen that. 

You: WHAT?! Weren’t you the perfect age to see that in theaters when it came out? What a squandered opportunity. 

Harry Castillo: Those kinds of movies were always more Peter’s thing. I like an eerie atmosphere in a film, not needless gore.

You: “Those kinds.” Smh. There’s way more to it than gore. It’s a classique. You gotta see it. Changed the genre as we know it. 

Harry starts typing, then he stops. This happens a few times, and you chew your lip in anticipation.

Harry Castillo: lol I believe you. You’re very cute when you’re passionate. If I left work now would you wait for me to get over there to start it? I’ll skip the gym, I think. I’d rather come take care of you tonight, if you’ll let me. 

Your heart nearly leaps from your chest. Harry Castillo? In your apartment? He’s dropped you off several times in the month you’ve been dating but he hasn’t come in yet. Usually the two of you spend all of your time together out or at his place, mostly to have privacy. Being at your place means there’s always a fifty fifty chance that Vanessa could come home if she’s not staying with Charles, and at this point the idea of fucking Harry quietly doesn’t seem possible. Or fun. 

You: If you come over you cannot judge the state of my apartment. It’s clean but it’s nothing like yours.

Harry Castillo: You know I don’t care if your apartment is like mine. I want to see your home, your life. And you cannot judge the shitty sweatpants from my gym bag that I plan to change into. Ready to be out of this suit for the day. 

You: Ew, I hope you plan to throw them in the wash first…

Harry Castillo: Ha Ha, very funny. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.

An hour and some change later, the buzzer for the building front door is going off. A few minutes after that, Harry Castillo is at the threshold of your apartment struggling to hold a bouquet of cheap drug store roses, a box of chocolates, a brand new heating pad, a pack of tampons, and a bottle of Tylenol. He’s also got an expensive looking black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He’s still dressed in his hand tailored navy blue suit, one of the ones you know he wears to work on regular rotation, and he looks the very picture of a dashing gentleman coming to court his lady. The fact that you are that lady is still a wild concept to you, and you suddenly feel as if you don’t deserve him at all. Especially not when you’re harboring a secret from him.

“Hi,” you say, smiling through your inner turmoil.

“Hey,” he smiles back. “I wasn’t sure if you needed any of this stuff, but I figured why not. A girl on her period deserves to be pampered,” Harry says, shrugging almost bashfully in the doorway. The movement is awkward with all of the items he’s juggling. “Sorry the roses are from Walgreens, though. Didn’t want to make more than one stop.”

Moving to the side to allow him entry, you take the offered flowers, bringing them to your nose. “Roses are roses, Harry. They’re lovely, thank you. I’d take flowers you found on the side of the road so long as they made you think of me.”

Harry slowly enters the small three bedroom apartment, looking around curiously, seeming to take in the decor and furniture. “It’s very clear what items belong to you and what items belong to Vanessa,” he muses, smiling. 

With a small grin, you ask him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry chuckles, shrugging, “Most of the things in here are either an item from Mexico or they are various shades of pink and look like they came from a department store. The other half of the decor looks like dark academia, and I couldn’t tell you where you bought any of it.”

“Actually, a lot of it I made myself, back when I was poor. Thrift store upgrades,” you admit, moving over to the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers. “And some of my stuff is also from a department store, just at their Halloween sales.”

Harry follows you, humming, “Mm, a crafty and witchy woman. You know, for someone who regularly refers to herself as an ex-goth, I don’t really think the ex part is necessary. I think you’re just goth, sweetheart.”

You set the flowers up in some water on the tiny dining room table, turning to face Harry again with a shrug. “I just feel like I’m more than that though. If anything I like to think of it as a grown-up goth. Sophisticated and sexy goth. I think the word itself has a very juvenile connotation associated with it. I’m in my 30s, and I don’t go to metal night clubs in all leather anymore. I listen to all kinds of music nowadays and I no longer strictly watch horror movies. Sometimes I even wear color. I just still enjoy dark things. A lot.”

He moves further into the apartment, slowly turning his head from side to side. Then his eyes land on the framed black and white photograph on the wall adjacent from his head. Harry squints at the photo for a moment while a look of confusion washes over his face. “Why do you have a framed photo of a man dancing with a plastic skeleton? Is this a relative?”

You laugh, “That’s Vincent Price. It’s my favorite picture of him, from the set of House on Haunted Hill. I love that weird man.” You sigh dreamily, “Did you know he had a cooking show? He could do it all!” 

“Such a unique woman,” he marvels, sounding so in awe for a moment. With the other items Harry brought you set out on the kitchen counter and his duffle bag on the floor, Harry is moving to you with his arms outstretched and a charming smile gracing his handsome features. “But you know I like that about you. How are you feeling?”

You slide into his embrace easily. “Still shitty. Better now that you’re here, though. Thank you for coming over. Vanessa should be gone for the night and truthfully I didn’t want to be alone. What did you tell Peter when you left early?”

Harry kisses the side of your head, pressing his own into you as he whispers in your ear, “I told him that my girlfriend wasn’t feeling well and she needed me.”

Inside your body, your heart and stomach are competing in a triathlon all at once. Running, biking, swimming. It’s overwhelming, and you cling to him even harder. Harry hasn’t referred to you as his girlfriend before now. Up until this moment, the two of you would just refer to things between you as ‘dating’ or ‘seeing each other’. Exclusive and with intention, yes, but still just dating as far as you were aware. You and Harry have spent the last four weeks in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage of things. The title of ‘girlfriend’ has suddenly thrusted this situation one step further into real relationship territory. 

“So you’re my boyfriend, Harry?” You whisper into his ear, terrified.

“If you’ll let me be,” he responds hopefully.

Your brain is screaming at you to tell him. To go unlock the studio and sit him down to explain yourself in as much detail as you can to try and save this before you let it get any worse than you already have. 

But your tongue twists itself into a tight knot, and instead it prevents you from saying anything at all. You tell yourself maybe it’s for the best, that telling him while feeling vulnerable on your period is a terrible idea. 

Harry breaks from the hug to bore into your eyes with his own, and you can’t stop yourself from lifting up on your bare tiptoes to kiss him. His lips spread into a wide grin against yours, and his body seems to release some of the tension it had been storing. 

You give him a small tour of the place, explaining that your office is off limits for the time being. Until you’re ready to share that part of yourself with him. Harry luckily takes that explanation well, telling you that he understands. He doesn’t question your ‘creative agency’ as you so ridiculously put it, and instead heads into the bathroom to change and freshen up. 

He emerges again about ten minutes later, hair damp and body smelling of expensive men’s body wash. Wearing a simple gray t-shirt and black sweats combo, he smiles at you graciously and thanks you for the use of your shower. 

That is the exact moment when the love you feel for this overwhelmingly handsome man hits you like a bus. Here he is, one of New York’s most elite businessmen and a man cut of a much finer cloth than your own, standing barefoot in your crappy little outdated apartment looking like a normal person. Someone down on your level. Someone you could see yourself with for a long time. Someone you’re actively fucking lying to. 

All at once you know you love him, and you hate yourself for it. Your heart somehow both swells and sinks, eyes filling with tears. Suddenly it’s all too much.

He notices. 

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Harry asks, concerned.

“Everything hurts, Harry. Can we go get in bed?” Not a lie. If only you had the courage to keep going. 

You’re already heading for the bedroom, weak and confused, and Harry’s behind you with the chocolates and the heating pad. It occurs to you as you enter your bedroom, a tasteful and somewhat witchy vibe of green, black, and purple, that perhaps a movie about a girl’s boyfriend lying to her for a whole year and then trying to kill her and all of her friends is not a good choice for a movie after all. Your eyes dart around the bookcase filled with films. What’s a safer choice? Action? Superheroes? Secret identities... Probably not a good choice either. Fuck. Okay, no movies.

You whip around to face him, an almost new kind of shyness taking over now that your feelings have so drastically shifted in your heart. Looking at him is almost too intense, so you start to move onto the bed. “I know you came over here to watch that movie, but I think I’m over television for the time being. Maybe we could listen to some music instead?” 

Harry shakes his head and his eyes hold a genuineness for you as he speaks, “I didn’t come rushing over here to watch a movie. I wanted you to know you can rely on me when you need someone to rely on. Even if that just means quietly spending time with you when you aren’t feeling well.”

Hearing him say that just makes you feel like a big piece of shit, and you bury your face into the blankets to briefly hide your shame before laying spread eagle on your back with a little groan.

*****

Harry takes a long moment to really let the room sink in, that same dark academia sort of aesthetic he pointed out before even more present than out in the communal space. He watches as you lay out on a queen sized bed trimmed with eggplant purple, marveling at how good your body looks in your yoga pants and cropped burnt orange t-shirt. Assuming that as a woman on her cycle you probably feel the opposite of good-looking right now, Harry can’t believe that women’s hormones play such tricks on them.

How wrong you are if you do feel that way. Harry Castillo finds you to be the picture of beauty. No makeup. Hair clean, but not styled. You just look like you, no fancy clothes or accessories. You’re in your own private bedroom, your sacred space filled with the things that comfort you most. You are a beautiful woman in her natural habitat, and Harry’s overwhelmed by it. He’s still not so sure that what he feels when he’s around you is love, but he knows that you make him feel things that are completely new for him and that seems like a step enough in the right direction. 

Then Harry notices the stuffed bat from the zoo is nestled between the two purple pillows propped up against the elegant wrought iron headboard, and his chest swells almost painfully. Definitely a step in the right direction.

His mouth stretches open with a toothy grin. “Do you sleep with him?”

You follow his gaze over to the bat, grabbing it and holding it to your chest before moving its velvety wings up in front of your face to hide the bashful look worn there. “Sir Battington? Are you gonna make fun of me if I do?”

“No, I think that’s sweet. Does he remind you of me?” He can’t help but feel this vain sense of pride at the notion. 

You bite your lip a little, humming in the affirmative as you nod. “Mhm. I don’t like the nights without you either, Harry. But we both need space sometimes, it’s healthy.”

“I agree, but right now is not one of those times.” And with that, Harry is climbing onto the bed with you, pulling your body into him as the little spoon. With his long legs scooping up your shorter ones, he's burying his nose into your soft hair, reveling in the clean scent of it. “I was originally planning to take you to dinner tonight and tell you, but I took the liberty of signing us up for a salsa lesson next week. Just the one to see if we like it. A private lesson, with one of the finest instructors in the city. I finally feel like I have the right partner to do that with.” He says that last part with such honesty behind his words. 

“Wow, thank you. That sounds lovely, Harry,” you say, voice distracted. Harry’s heart begins to sink, but a moment later you shudder in his arms and a little moan escapes your lips. “Ugh, I’m so sorry that I’m not more enthusiastic. These cramps are killing me. Salsa lessons really do sound great, though.”

He frowns, hating that you’re in pain. “It’s okay. Anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you wanna make me cum despite the blood situation. A good orgasm usually dulls the pain for a bit. I wasn’t in the mood earlier but around you I think I’m always in the mood.”

Harry pauses, thinking that prospect over. Intrigued by how turned on the idea suddenly has him feeling. Curious . 

He finds himself wondering if this would have ever sounded appealing with one of his past partners, and ultimately decides that it would not. It’s not typically something a girl asks for, but once again he realizes just how unlike other girls he’s dated you are. You seem to bring some sort of virility out of him that he’s not sure he’s experienced before. Being here in your apartment, surrounded by the essence of you, he feels like a younger man all of the sudden.

You sound embarrassed, “I was mostly kidding, I know that’s kinda gross. Can I just have the heating pad you brought me?”

He’s shaking his head into you. “I don’t think it’s gross, sweetheart. I was thinking about the fact that I’ve never done that before and now I kind of think I want to try it. What's the slang term for it? Red wings?”

You laugh, full of disbelief, “Yeah, when you do it for the first time it’s called earning them.”

“I think I’ll try to earn my red wings tonight, then.” Harry says, and he’s pouncing on you in an instant. 

Thank goodness the roommate is not home, because Harry’s wild, animalistic growls and your squeals of delight as he rips off your pants would have surely alerted her to the goings on in her best friend’s bedroom. 

“Harry! What’s gotten into you?!”

“Caught a whiff of blood, sweetheart. And I’m a carnivore through and through. Need to devour you while you’re medium rare.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a madman,” you’re laughing, kissing him. “Let me go take this out and get a little cleaned up first.”

Harry smacks your ass as he tells you to hurry, and then when you make it back to the bed, he puts everything he’s got into earning his wings and then some.

*****

October was supposed to be the month of honesty, or so you told Vanessa. You promised both her and yourself that you were going to finally tell Harry the truth about your secret life as a camgirl. After dating Harry for one month and catching real feelings for him, you knew that it had to happen before this good opportunity ends in disaster. 

And so you tried. All month long. This wasn’t like last month when you scared yourself out of doing it each time. No, in October you were readily prepared to say your piece and hope that your blossoming relationship with Harry would be strong enough to withstand any of the damage telling the truth is sure to cause. Your favorite month has been fraught this year, and you felt determined to have things under control by Halloween. For some reason, your bad karma for lying if you really believed in that sort of thing, the odds were so wildly not in your favor. 

After the salsa lessons he booked, which were wonderful, you’d wanted to take a long walk in the park and talk to him about it. But dancing made the both of you so feral for each other that the plan went right out of the window when he finger fucked you in in the back of his car, right there in the parking garage. He’d said he couldn’t possibly make it all the way home first without hearing you moan his name as you came on his hand. After that the only thing on your mind was your insatiable sexual appetite. 

The next attempt was your closest, about a week after that. You’d been sitting on Harry’s couch with him sharing a drink, feeling loose enough to speak more freely but not tipsy enough to forget what you needed to say. Perhaps liquid courage was the key. 

But right as you started to tell Harry that you had something important to talk to him about, a frantic phone call from his brother about work immediately pulled his attention from you. After the call Harry seemed on edge for the rest of the night. No sex was had, and he even ended up going into work the following day despite it being Sunday. That project, whatever it was, started to soak up every waking moment of Harry’s life for the rest of that week and well into the next one. 

You still haven’t seen him in person, but he’s at least been checking in with calls and texts where he can spare the time or brainpower. The problem is, it’s now only a few days before Halloween. With your self made deadline around the corner, you’re feeling like the walls are closing in. 

It’s while you are on the couch eating a bowl of oatmeal later into the morning that one of these check in calls comes in. Facetime, the time around. 

When you open the call, Harry’s handsome but extra line riddled face greets you. He’s in his office, and he looks as if he’s been frowning every second since the last time you kissed him goodbye. Vanessa isn’t home, so you speak freely.

“Hey, baby,” you say, leaning into the pet name more even though you know you probably shouldn’t until you tell him. It just feels so natural to address him as such. 

His face seems to soften a little at the sound of your voice. “Hey, sweetheart. This client is fucking killing me. Peter and I might be working on this account until Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah?” You’ve taken on a bit of a flirty tone, noting how much you really have missed your man’s absence. “Need me to come rough ‘em up for ya? No one is killing my Harry while I’m around.”

Harry shakes his head despairingly, “I wish you could come here and rough me up. I miss that fucking body. I haven’t even had time to jerk off since any of this bullshit started.” 

“Oh my poor baby, so you’re all pent up then, huh? Have you been saving all that cum just for me? You know how much my pussy likes being filled up with you, right baby?” You’re suddenly wildly horny yourself, and you’ve caught yourself slipping into your work voice. You never use that voice with Harry, but something about being on a video call suddenly makes this feel like one of your sessions. This feels wildly wrong and wildly fun at the same time. Surely you’re headed straight to hell. 

Harry looks like he’s going to choke, eyes flicking around the room. Is that a bead of sweat on his brow? “Christ, sweetheart, you sound like a fucking phone sex operator when you talk like that. Fuck , that was enough to make me a little hard.”

“Wow, baby, you really are all pent up for me. Knowing that’s already got me wet for you. I wish you were here right now.” As you say that, an idea strikes you, so you run with it.

“Actually, no, I wish I was there in your office with you. Under your desk, giving you the blowjob of a lifetime while your entire company is none the wiser. Can you imagine? Look down between your legs right now and imagine my face between them, mouth open and tongue hanging out like a panting dog in anticipation for your cock. I know you’re getting so hard that it’s starting to hurt being stuffed in those uncomfortable dress pants. Why don’t you take him out for me, baby?”

Harry whines your name, straining with need, and that sends everything past the point of no return. Harry Castillo is certainly your boyfriend, but right now he also feels like one of our clients, and this feels like one of the more fucked up choices you could have made. 

But things kind of naturally progressed to this, hadn’t they? You’re at least telling yourself that as you allow the both of you to go further down the rabbit hole.

He’s speaking in hushed tones, “Let me make sure the door is locked and the blinds are down. I’m also turning on the white noise machine I use for confidential meetings. We’re fucking crazy for this. I’ve never jerked off at the office.”

You grin wickedly, “We are just so full of firsts together, aren’t we? And you like that we’re crazy. Now where was I?”

Harry’s back in his seat, grabbing tissues from the dispenser on his desk with three swift flicks of the wrist. Swoosh. Swoosh Swoosh. “You were under the desk, getting ready to go down on me.”

“That’s right, baby. I was about to unzip those uncomfortable pants and let you free.”

A zipper moves, fabric jostles. He’s looking right into your eyes. “Then what?”

“Then I take you into my hands, pull back your foreskin, and I slowly run my tongue along your tip. Your precum always tastes so good, doesn’t it, baby?”

He’s propped you up on the desk and scooted back a bit, his right hand reaching down between his legs where you can finally see some of him. The camera is still pointed at his flushed face and clothed torso, but now the top half of his beautiful cock is in view. He’s clearly trying to sit in a way that still keeps it hidden under the desk should anyone be able to see. 

Harry looks you right in the eyes as he spits into his hand. That makes you wet . Then his right shoulder starts to move slowly up and down as he begins to stroke himself. 

“What happens next?” He asks, voice breathy. 

You smirk. “I take you into my mouth, and your hands come to grip at my hair, pulling it a little bit. Always gotta remind me who’s the boss when you’re at work, right Mr. Castillo?” 

“So we’ve done this before?”

“Yeah, maybe I come see you every time you’ve got a client who’s really stressing you out. Maybe I’m the only one who can help Mr. Castillo relax and everyone in the office whispers about it.”

“You are the only one,” he breathes, and he sounds like he truly means it. It’s not part of this game you’ve started. That nearly breaks you, and then he’s asking, “Let me see your tits, please?”

You comply, lifting up your shirt to reveal yourself to him in the shot. Now you’ve propped your own phone up on the coffee table, using both hands to cup your breasts. One hand eventually starts to venture below the waistband of your athletic shorts while the other plays with a nipple piercing.

“There’s a knock at the door while you’ve got your cock shoved completely down my throat. I’m gagging and drooling, making an awful mess. What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna tell whoever’s at the door to fuck off and tell you to keep fucking going.”

“That’s it, baby, keep fucking my throat. Feel me moan and vibrate around your cock. See that? My eyes are watering from how good you’re facefucking me, baby. It’s so wrong to do this in your office but it feels so good, doesn’t it? Doesn't it make it taste that much sweeter? Doesn’t it make you feel powerful? Cum for me, baby. You deserve it after all your hard work. Let it all go for me, baby.”

After a few more pumps of his hand, Harry is surging everything that had been stored away into the tissues with a strangled moan, and then he's panting heavily on the other end of the phone. His facial muscles already seem ten times more relaxed, and a laugh filled with disbelief falls from his parted lips. “Fuck, that was faster than I was expecting. Which is a good thing because I actually have to go soon. Jesus I really was pent up. Sorry you didn’t get to have your fun, though.”

You shake your head, grinning at him. “Harry, that was more fun for me than you can know. I’ll cum later.”

“As long as you're satisfied,” he says, frowning a little with worry.

“I’m very satisfied,” you confirm, and you mean it.  

“That was wonderfully unexpected. I was just trying to say hello when I called you, sweetheart. Thank you for helping me with that. I feel so much better. Fuuuuck .” Harry throws his head back as he draws out the word.

You blow him a kiss and send a wink his way when he looks back down at you. “You’re very welcome, babe. Glad I could help you relieve some tension. I hate seeing you so stressed.”

Harry’s smirking at you now, a mischievous air about him. “I have to ask you, though. Was any of that similar to what your writing is like? You were so creative coming up with all of that on a whim. It was so good, sweetheart. You’re very talented.”

Your heart sinks into your feet, throat drying up. You know that your face must be betraying you, showing the terror in your eyes. His face instantly changes to one of concern. 

“Uh, about that, Harry. I actually want to talk to you when you have the space for it. I feel ready to share something important with you.” 

Just as Harry’s brow raises curiously and he’s about to say something in response, there is a frantic knock at the door to Harry’s office. This one is not part of a fantasy this time, though. That stressed look instantly returns to his face, much to your disappointment. 

Fuck, you almost had it.

“What?!” Harry’s barking, eyes narrowing at the door. All of those frown lines are back too, not that it hinders his handsome face at all. “It better be good, Peter!”

“I need you to run over these numbers with me one more time,” the faint voice of his brother is saying. At least, you assume that’s him, given that you’ve never spoken to the younger Castillo. According to Harry, Peter went through a punk phase growing up and because of this Harry is convinced that the two of you will get along. You’ve tried to explain that goths and punks are two totally different vibes, but your boyfriend is an Ivy League prep at heart and doesn’t understand.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Harry yells, rolling backwards while leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers pressing into his temples on either side of his hanging head. Then he looks up and into the phone apologetically, and you get a good view of his now soft cock still unconfined between his legs. “I’m so sorry. I know you’ve been wanting to tell me something, but out of respect for you I want to be able to give you my full attention and I just can’t do that right now. Please, try to be patient with me until this account is handled. After it’s all said and done I promise I’ll happily listen to whatever it is you have to say. Okay? That’s the best I can offer right now.” He looks self conscious as he adds, “And maybe a gold bracelet as a consolation prize for putting up with me.”

Your chest heaves, frustrated that once again you’re unable to say what you need to say to this man, but you nod at him and smile supportively. The last thing you need to do is risk sending him over the edge while this account is a thorn in his side.  “Of course, Harry. I completely understand. Just promise me we will talk when we can, okay? It’s really important. Not life or death, but important. And you know I don’t need you to buy me stuff.”

“Maybe I just enjoy the act of pampering. Let me pamper you.” As Harry begins tucking himself away and readjusting his trousers, he smiles down at you through the video call. “But I do promise we will talk, I just can’t promise when. I’m sorry I can’t be more available right now, but I can assure you that when this is over I will be. Are we still on for your favorite night of the year, though? I want us to forget everything else and have a nice Halloween together.” 

You nod, “Please. You are not allowed to cancel on me. Is your brother still trying to throw a party even though you’re both stressed and his wife is seven months pregnant?”

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, smiling. “He is. He says that this is his last chance to go wild before the baby comes. Supposedly she’s going to let him do drugs so he can relive his rave days. Are you still willing to meet Peter and Charlotte? I know we’re not quite at ‘meet the parents’ yet, but I feel ready for you to meet my brother.”

“Totally, I am tired of hearing about this guy without really knowing him. I’m a little nervous to step further into your world but I think it’ll be nice. And I’m still welcome to bring Vanessa and Charles so I have people to talk to besides you, correct?” 

He nods confidently, “Yes. I still think you’re going to fit in just fine with my brother. His wife I’m not so sure about. Nice girl, just not the type I see you being friends with. Did you get costumes figured out for us?”

Your eyes glance over to that photo of Vincent Price on the wall, and you smirk down at him. “Just you wait. Be here at 6 and I’ll instruct you on what clothes to bring. Make sure your facial hair is short and your mustache is on point. Trust me.”

His eyes are shining for you, even through a six inch screen. “Looking forward to seeing you in your element, sweetheart. I’ve got to go, though. Thank you again for helping me relax.” 

“You’re welcome. Bye, Harry.” 

Harry Castillo lets out a long sigh, as if hanging up the phone is the last thing he wants to do. “Talk to you later.” 

Then he’s gone, and you feel a little empty without his presence.

It’s not lost on you that what you just did with Harry, considering the fact that you have to go get ready for a session, was very inappropriate. Therefore, you should be a little ashamed of yourself. 

It's also not lost on you, though, that a huge part of you enjoyed that so much more than you should have. Not playing around the lines of your deception, no. That feels terrible no matter what, and you're so ready for things to be out in the open with him. What you enjoyed was getting to share a little of this secret side of yourself with him. That part felt really good. It makes you feel like there's a chance Harry’s reaction to the truth won’t be as bad as you fear. 

*****

The night of Peter’s Halloween party, October 31st and the final Friday of the month,  Harry’s nerves are all over the place on his way to your apartment. He’s not sure why, really. 

Well, he has an idea as to why but he’s not sure if he’s ready to admit any of that to himself. So maybe it’s the fucked up account that he and Peter are stuck dealing with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s always been mildly superstitious despite being a logical man and Halloween is an inherently spooky night. Or, more accurately, he’s nervous because his feelings for you are growing stronger by the day and you meeting his brother is one of the litmus tests for if the relationship is headed in the right direction. He’s still not ready to call it love. Not yet. He needs to be one hundred percent sure, not that he would have any idea how any of this is supposed to feel in the first place. Lucy said that he would just know when he feels it. That there’s no rhyme or reason; it just suddenly exists within a person. 

“We can’t help it. It just walks into our lives sometimes.”

You certainly just walked into his life, and since that moment Harry Castillo hasn’t stopped thinking about you. Even after two months of going steady, he still wants to hear from you all day long. He still wants you to sleep over every weekend even though he wants to be good about giving each other space. He still wants to know everything about your life. He still looks at the photos of you on his phone, a handful in the collection now, every time he gets frustrated that you’re not nearby. 

Harry is borderline obsessed with you at this point, but he’s not willing to say it’s love.

Perhaps he just needs to remember that this is still a new relationship, so it feels fun and exciting. But have any of his past relationships felt this fun and exciting? That’s a question he’s asked himself several times over the last few days. Being forced to limit time with you because of work hasn’t helped either, so maybe the absence of you has made whatever he’s experiencing feel more intense. 

The worst part of the situation with this needy client is that they’ve soaked up the latter half of his October and he’d been looking forward to spending it with you. You’re clearly a girl who lives for this time of year, and it’s been a shame to miss out on it. Maybe next year, if the two of you are still going strong, he’ll plan a trip to Salem or some other eerie place. He went there once on a field trip for high school, a lifetime ago it feels like, and Harry can picture you clear as day standing in front of the big black witch house that’s on all the tours. He can see you wearing one of your stylish outfits and those bat earrings from the night you met. 

Thinking about the future like that, with you still beside him and maybe even a diamond ring on your finger, makes Harry’s soul feel peaceful for a moment. Deciding to propose to Lucy never made him feel like that. Picking out a ring for her was the equivalent of picking out milk at the grocery store. Thinking about doing it for you, though… That feels warm, deep in his belly. He’s not sure what to make of that, new relationship or not. 

Then he’s at your building and you’re buzzing him in. Up three flights of stairs and he’s at your door, and then the Bride of Frankenstein herself is letting him into your apartment. His eyes immediately land on the glowing jack-o-lanterns on the kitchen counter, clearly recently carved by the girls. One has a nice face, and one has a scary face. It’s a toss up which one is who’s, but he’s willing to bet that yours is the scary face. 

“Happy Halloween!” Vanessa says, smiling at him through elaborate and dramatic eye makeup. She’s wearing a sparkly white dress and the classic beehive wig with the shocks of white stripes on each side. She’s also painted stitches into her neck to give the illusion of being sewn together. 

Harry leans in to kiss her cheek in a friendly manner. “Happy Halloween, Vanessa. You look gorgeous. Where’s my spooky lady?” 

“Your spooky lady is right here,” you say, emerging from the bathroom looking so sexy that Harry might actually keel over. Leaning with your forearm up against the doorframe, your other hand is on your hip. “And dare I say she’s extra spooky on this special night of All Hallows Eve?”

You’re wearing a skintight black bodysuit adorned with white bones to make you look like a skeleton, and the tight fabric is hugging the curves of your thick body so well that it’s already driving him mad. The bodysuit has a zipper right down the center, and you’ve got it unzipped enough to show an insane amount of cleavage. On your feet you’ve got on a pair of strappy black heels, and the nails of both your toes and hands are painted white to match the bones. Your hair is up in a pair of space buns, with little bone clips sticking out of each. Though you’ve chosen to keep your foundation color natural, your face is painted with that of a skeleton’s ghoulish grin. Dark lines to make up the teeth along your lips and cheeks, and black smudge to make your eyes and nose seem cavernous. Upon closer inspection the eye makeup is sparkly and quite beautiful, almost like an over the top smokey eye. 

“Wow, you look incredible,” Harry breathes, moving forward to take you into his arms. 

“No kisses!” You hiss, hands up to halt him. “I just finished this makeup and it took me forever. Don’t you dare mess it up with those beautiful lips.”

“No kisses, just a hug,” Harry agrees, his own hands out in surrender for a moment before his arms are encircling you. “So if you’re a skeleton then what am I going to be? You told me this was a couples costume. I brought the clothes you told me to bring and I shaved this morning.” 

You examine his face, squinting. It looks quite adorable with the skull makeup, and his chest swells with emotion for you. “Good, good. You look great. I just need to style your hair and maybe give you a little eyeliner. Is that okay?” 

Harry’s nodding as you’re pulling him into the bathroom, and just as he’s about to shut the door the Frankenstein Monster is loudly stalking through the apartment’s entrance with his arms outstretched like in the movies. Charles, if he couldn’t guess. The green face paint and the bolts are a nice touch, but the flat topped wig really sends the look home. Vanessa squeals as he makes ridiculous groaning noises, throwing herself into his arms.

“They’re cute,” Harry remarks, shutting the door and facing you. He's worried when you suddenly frown. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, shrugging as you turn the overhead fan on, speaking to him in hushed tones. He can tell you’re trying to play off a bigger emotion like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah, they are cute and I’m very happy for them. But Charles came to me yesterday and showed me the ring he just bought for her, so I guess I’m going to be losing my roommate when the lease is up in February. He’s going to do it on Christmas Eve when they go to London so she can meet his family. I can’t believe I predicted that, by the way. I guarantee he’s going to ask her to move into his place right away. I promise I am so happy for her, she deserves to be happy.” Suddenly your eyes well with tears, and you look horrified. “Fuck, I cannot cry. This mascara isn’t water proof.”

Harry’s brow furrows, wanting to do anything to keep you from feeling bad. “I’m sorry that blindsided you, sweetheart. I’m sure that didn’t feel good. Is there anything I can do?”

Shaking your head, you smile at him gratefully. “Not really, thank you. I’m just a little stressed out. We’ve lived in this apartment for eight years. This has been my home for most of my time in New York. Yesterday when I woke up I assumed I had at least another year in this place, and by the time I went to bed I realized this chapter was closing. I’m sad, but maybe it’s going to be good for things to change. I may have money but that doesn’t mean I want to pay the rent for an outdated and overpriced apartment by myself. Maybe I could buy a small townhome or something.” 

“I know you said this was only yesterday. So this isn't what you wanted to talk to me about, right? I just want to clarify.” He assumes that the other thing has to do with your tight-lipped writing career, but in an effort to gain your trust about that he’s been trying not to guess or pry. Whatever it is, he can tell it’s been weighing on you. Which is why he knows he needs to be done with the shit going on at work before he can give all of himself to you. 

You confirm his suspicion, “You’re right. That’s something else. And I really do need your full attention for that, so I’ve conceded to waiting until things calm down for you at work. The Vanessa thing is just another layer to my stress. I’m going to have to figure out what to do about moving, but I don’t wanna worry about any of this tonight. It’s Halloween and I’ve got a hot date with Vincent Price.” As you change the subject with that last part, you’re sliding up to him wearing a huge grin, showing the real teeth beneath the fake.

Harry grins in return, realization dawning on him. “Ohhhh, and you’re the skeleton from the picture? It all makes sense now.” 

In the back of his mind, though, Harry is taking note of your upcoming roommate debacle. His immediate thought is that he should just ask you to move into his place when you’re eventually in need of a new home, but then he realizes that he’s only been seeing you for two months and Harry hasn’t lived with another person since college. The thought had been immediate, though. A no brainer, even. What does that mean?

Nodding, you motion for him to sit down on the closed toilet lid as you grab a spray bottle and a comb. “I thought it might be cute to re-create the photo at some point tonight. I could hang it up next to the original.”

Harry feels warm all over as you come to stand in front of him, and he wraps his arms around your hips for a momentary embrace. “I can’t believe I’m dressing up for Halloween. I haven’t done this since I was a kid. This stuff was always more Peter’s thing.”

“That’s why Vincent Price was a perfect choice for you. It requires little dressing up. I knew you would already have the clothes we needed.” Your fingers are in his hair. “What was your costume the last time you dressed up?” 

Harry smiles fondly at the memory. “Batman, the Michael Keaton version. Halloween, 1989.”

Giggling, you’re starting to move his wavy locks around. “I bet your parents got you a good costume too since they could afford it. Not one of those Ben Coopers from the drug store.”

Harry’s mind is momentarily flooded with nostalgia and he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “Those horrible plastic masks with the ugly little smocks? What a blast from the past. I always pitied those kids.”

“Harry Castillo, the fanciest Batman on the block. How old were you?”

Harry smiles, remembering how important everything felt back then. “I was eleven, and I had made up my mind that it was my last year to go trick or treating. Twelve is practically a man at that age, you know, so I felt like I couldn’t do childish things anymore.” He’s saying that last bit sarcastically, shaking his head. How silly he’d been for that way of thinking. 

You laugh, shaking your head too as you begin to style his hair. “I got away with trick or treating until I was twenty-two. I was short enough to pass for an older kid if I wore a mask and went with my younger sister. Once she stopped needing me to babysit her and she was old enough to run around with her friends, my time for free candy from strangers was at an end.”

“Why doesn’t any of that surprise me?” He asks, chuckling.

“Because I’m quirky and fun,” you remark, poking your tongue out at him. 

You make quick work of doing his hair, combing it, spraying it with water to make it pliable, and then keeping the hairstyle you’ve chosen in place with a little gel. Then you take what you tell him is eyebrow gel to his mustache and shape it a little, leaning your own face close to his. Harry’s trying so hard to let you work in peace, but the scrunched look of concentration on your skeletal features is so adorable.

“So I really can’t kiss you while you’ve got the makeup on?” He asks. 

“Quit moving your lips!” 

“I just want to know how much I’ll have to suffer tonight.”

You huff, “You can kiss me after we’ve taken our photo and I’m a little drunk. By then I won't care if the makeup is ruined.”

Harry grins, “Deal, sweetheart.”

*****

Final Installment

Previous

Masterlist

*****

Taglist: @cheyxfu | @notahappystan

[nineteenninety-six]

Support Groups

Pairings: Jack Abbot x Widow!Reader

TW: Spousal death. Car accidents. Mentions of drink driving. Death etc. It's not particular heavy but be mindful and cautious.

AN: Sorry for lack of everything, I've just been busy with my job. I've also been watching ER lol

Synopsis: Jack runs to someone he met a few months ago at a Spousal Loss Support Group.

Jack didn’t recognise you when you first entered the church on that Thursday evening. He greeted and welcomed you as he did with every newcomer to the spousal loss support group. With a soft smile, he shook your hand gently, introduced himself, and welcomed you to the group, showing you the coffee, tea, and snack table before moving on to greet the other attendees.

Jack discovered the support group a couple of months after moving to Pittsburgh. He had covered a day shift for Robby and decided to take a scenic walk home to decompress when he stumbled upon the meeting. Since then, Jack has become more involved, running the group on his days off.

Once everyone is seated in a circle, Jack begins the session.

“Good evening everyone,” Jack starts, standing to address the room. “I see we have a new face here, so I’ll begin with my story. Of course, I don’t expect anyone to share if they don’t want to. Don’t feel pressured to share; it’s perfectly fine to just listen if that’s what you prefer.”

Jack sinks back into his seat, retreating into the distant, numb composure he always seems to wear when talking about his late wife.

“I was in the military,” he begins quietly. “An army medic. I’d only been out for a week when it happened.” His voice falters. He pauses, clears his throat, then goes on. “It was a brain aneurysm. Ruptured while she slept.”

Jack looks up and catches your eye and he finds he couldn't look away from you as he continues his story.

"She died in her sleep…there was nothing anyone could do about it. Never before had I doubted my skills as a doctor like I did at that moment. I kept going back over every moment and thinking about what symptoms I could have missed, was I too distracted about being home? Maybe she knew something was wrong but didn't want to worry me. Did I see something but brush it aside? I couldn't forgive myself, I blamed myself."

Jack finally sits down as the group softly claps before another member stands and tells their story. A few more people tell their stories before you finally gather the courage and stand up. Your eyes land on Jack as you introduce yourself, for some reason it calms your nerves and you never look away as you begin to talk.

"My husband died two months ago. His name was Ethan. He was uh-...hit by a drunk driver in a hit and run. It was late at night so he wasn't discovered for a while, he was taken to the hospital where he died." Your voice breaks as you recount that fateful night, "He was coming home from a late shift at work and I had no idea…not until I was woken up by the person on the other end telling me to get to Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center as soon as possible."

Realisation hits Jack like a smack across the face as he stares at you in shock and surprise. He was the ER attending that night and was the doctor who fought hard to save your husband's life. You recognized him. You could never forget him as he is the one who brought you to see your husband when you finally arrived at the hospital.

Jack is suddenly transported back to that night.

Jack's sigh was filled with mostly exhaustion and a little bit of irritation as he stepped out of the trauma bay, peeling off his gloves and gown and dumping them into the bin. He had tried for two hours to save the poor man but his efforts had been in vain. If the man had been taken to the hospital as soon as the accident happened then he would have had a fighting chance but according to the EMT's that brought him in, he was left in the streets for almost an hour, bleeding away precious minutes.

Bridgette approaches him with a soft sympathetic smile on her face, "His wife is the family room."

"Already?" Jack expected to at least rest his feet and down a mug of coffee before he was telling people he couldn't save their loved ones.

"I can get Shen or Ellis to do it." Bridgette suggests.

"No, no, it's okay." Jack shakes his head, denying the offer, "Just give me five minutes."

Bridgette nods and leaves him be, returning to the nurses station.

As it always did whenever he lost someone, guilt began to eat at him. He prided himself on being a great doctor who thrived in high stress, complicated situations and thought outside of the box, using skills he developed during his time serving. So when he couldn't save someone, especially someone who otherwise should've survived, guilt and shame gnawed at him.

Jack limps over to the family room, his prosthetic chafing uncomfortably as he walks. He needed at least a thirty minute break and to let his leg breathe but he powered through anyway.

He spies you through the small window in the door, you sit on the couch, legs shaking in nervousness as you chew your fingernails. Jack took a deep breath before he knocked on the door and entered, causing you to jump to your feet and face him.

"I'm Dr Abbot, I was your husbands doctor tonight—"

A cry rips out of your throat at his words and quickly slap your hands over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the rest but they spill with ease. Unintentionally or not, Dr Abbot told you all you needed to know.

"H-he's dead…oh god-" You sob, "Oh my God, not my Ethan."

Jack places a hand on your shoulder to grab your attention, "Why don't we take a seat?"

You nod mindlessly as you settle back down in your seat, sobs still escaping you. Dr Abbot passes you tissues, which you gratefully accept, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"Your husband was involved in a car accident. Unfortunately, it was a hit and run and your husband was left unfound for a significant amount of time before the EMT's were called and he was brought here." Jack takes your hand in his as you begin to cry again, "I'm sorry to say this but your husband has died. We tried for two hours to bring him back but his injuries were too severe."

Jack continues to hold your hand, silently comforting you as you sob over the loss of your husband. 

"I had just spoken to him last night…he works the late shift so he always comes home in the middle of the night—" You weep, "I-I can't believe it."

"The police will be here at some point to talk to you. To get some information to help them find the person who did this."

You nod mutely, your brain scrambled from the past ten minutes. The worst day of your life had just started and you knew it won't be ending anytime soon.

You clear your throat and look at Dr Abbot, "Can I see him? Please?"

"You can but I must remind you, your husband was in a vehicular accident…it won't be what you'd expect. You need to know what you're going to see."

You nod, "I know, I know but I still want to see him."

"Okay." Dr Abbot gives you a nod and helps you stand, your hand still in his. "Let's go."

Jack finds you once the session ends, approaching you as everyone slowly trickles out of the room.

He softly calls out your name, stopping by your side as you look up at him.

"I'm uh-not sure if you remember me but-"

"I do," You interrupt, "I remember you Dr Abbot. I can never forget that day."

"Jack. You can call me Jack."

You slowly nod, "Okay Jack."

"It's good to see you here. These places are good for support, I always suggest them."

"You know from experience?" You make a joke.

Jack huffs a laugh, "Yeah, I am."

"That was a bad joke, I'm sorry. I didn't know you lost your wife, I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's not something I shout from the rooftops," Jack shrugs, "Are you free after this?"

"I was planning on taking a long walk whilst crying but I can defer it to tomorrow. What were you thinking?"

"Coffee?" Jack suggests.

"Sounds good," You nod, "Lead the way."

[finnickodaired]

what a privilege it is to have these problems

in which finnick odair loses a fight with a plug-in fan

finnick odair x fem!victor!reader

category: flangst, post mockingjay

warnings: not really much, just a bit of sadness and anxiety from reader, cursing

note: feel free to send me a request !! (as I've said like eight times. im sorry. I am trying to make it clear) finnick has a dog as he should

word count: 0.9k

tick. tick. tick.

finnick was currently questioning the morals of destroying his and your entire home because of this noise.

the soft hum of the fan has always been present when he slept, and he doesnt really get good sleep without it. but this noise is different. maybe a picture frame bumping into the wall, maybe his dog is suddenly very interested in the idea of repeatedly clawing the wall. what ever it is, finnick would rather walk on lava than deal with it the whole night.

but you're sleeping, curled up on his side so angelically. its a miracle you're sleeping and he's not—its almost always the other way around. you'll stay up and watch him sleep after he has a nightmare almost every single night.

you always say you had it easy as a victor; the capitol saw you as an innocent little girl that made it out of the games by the grace of god, who was crushing on the capitol darling, finnick odair, like everyone else. but they've always been more than that. they've always been something real, something the capitol didnt make up.

he was so distracted by his beautiful girl he almost forgot about the noise.

almost. the stupid clicking still rang in his ears, making him want to commit a severe act of violence.

okay. he has to fix it. he, a little shakily because he just does not want to awake this perfect sleeping angel, removes your limbs from his body, slipping out of bed and coming face to face with his dog, (who of course was sleeping on the bed, you always insisted) who tilts her head at finnick. he would probably laugh and tell her 'yeah, i don't want to be awake either, girl, or something along the lines, but he would wake you. he just quietly listens for the noise.

silence. more silence.... tick. tick.

finnicks head snapped to the left, and is sure he finds the verdict: a framed photo of his girl holding katniss and peeta's first child with an innocent whimsy and excitement on your face that finnick was so certain he lost the moment his name was first called in the reaping. its moving with the circulation of the fan, he's sure of it. he puts the frame on the nightstand with an internal ill figure it out tomorrow, and retreats back into your shared bed.

and then the fucking noise comes back. conveniently right after you rewrap yourself over him like he's your personal body pillow.

he's well aware he's balancing your unconsciousness like a tight-rope.

once again escaping the living confines of your hold, he discovers the real culprit: the plug-in fan. he thought, maybe, it was the ceiling fan, (you liked to sleep with two fans on at the same time. it simultaneously horrified finnick and made him fall in love with you even more) but he sees a string stuck in the fan that has been singing up a storm for him. easy fix. a quiet fix.

well, it would have been a quiet fix, but he immediately knocks over the fan, creating a peace shattering sound, followed by the absence of the fans whirling that you so desperately need to sleep.

god just hates him tonight, huh?

his dog barks at the sound, and looking up at the bed, he can see you inelegantly slap his side of the bed, instinctually searching the safety blanket known as finnick odair.

you didnt find him.

shooting up like a meerkat, your eyes scan the room for finnick, ready to soar out of bed, before a voice breaks you out of your panic.

"im right here, angel. the fan was making a noise... sorry."

"d'you break the fan?" you murmured, rubbing your sleep-coated eyes. he didn't even turn any lights on, how in gods name can he even see anything? your hands anxiously tense and untense on the bed

he laughs, setting the fan back up and plugging it in, "no, just knocked it over. fixed the sound though."

you nod even though he isn't looking, the anxiety from his absence still surging through your body.

"finnick?"

"mhm?"

"come here, please."

so, of course, he does. he stands at the edge of the bed where you reside, waiting for you to say something more.

your still shaky hand grabs his, holding it to your face.

"you freaked me out. i didn't know where you were."

now he feels like the most evil person in the entire world. "i'm sorry, honey. you were so tired today, i didn't want to wake you.."

your hand tightens on his, frowning with big, wet eyes.

"its okay. you scared me really bad."

he immediately frowned, getting back in bed and holding the back of your head gently, bringing you back to him. your head rests on the side of his chest as you always do, his hand rubbing down to your back.

"oh, baby, im sorry. we've been through too much. i should've woken you up."

you hum, hands gripping onto his shirt faintly. "we've just had days where i wake up and you really are gone."

whether it be a client that he was to take, or your time in the capitol during the rebellion, you've woken up screaming and didn't have him to wash the nightmares away.

finnick holds you like you're glass, and rests his head on the top of yours. "yeah, we have. but we never will again, yeah? nothings getting in our way."

ugh. that capitol darling charm wasn't all conjured. he always could say the sweetest things. you smiled against his chest, and nodded.

"goodnight. i love you."

"i love you too."

the ticking stopped.

hii i guess this is a part two to my first fic but they can exist apart from each other so woo!! also soosososo happy with the positive reception on my first fic i was very nervous!! also omg writing finnick fics is making me SO tired of the blue theme i have to write for someone else

[steamberrystudio]

Why Flowcharts?

Why am I so obsessed with flowcharts, one might wonder?

I wanted to add them into Changeling, I did add them in GS, I've added them in WSC and I'll be putting them in Thornewood...so WHY?

It's a lot of extra work and is it really worth it?

The truth is I'm really interested in the part of game development that has us communicating to the player about the story and choices - whether it's ways to better communicate what the choices are doing so players can better analyse the story content and make informed choices that will lead to their desired outcome. Or if it's communicating about how you're navigating through the story and what else exists that you aren't seeing.

Flowcharts are just one way of showing people what their choices are doing and where they're heading.

There was an incident I remember while watching a Changeling Let's Play where someone made a choice where Nora had to answer a question. And someone signalled to Nora that she was about to say the wrong thing - and what the correct answer was. So the changed the answer she said from what the player chose. The player took it as a sort of fake out option but what was really happening behind the scenes was that she chose an answer that could have led to some bad endings - but the game did a check against her cumulative score and because she'd been choosing desirable answers overall, it shifted her away from the bad endings and allowed her to continue the story.

That incident really struck in my and head and I've always thought since then..."If there was just a flowchart, she'd have known what happened there."

I think they're a useful communication device about the shape of the story and the path you're travelling when you go through it.

In the Chapter 7 flowchart for When Stars Collide, you can see that there are only four scenes shared between all the characters. The red lines show Asher's path through the story and you can see how that stacks up to other characters as well as just the sheer amount of story there is to replay for the other characters. The purple boxes are the scenes for the "No LI off ramp", which isn't a full path of course.

You can compare it to the Chapter 6 flowchart which is much less bulky because it has a lot more "shared" content between the routes and is, overall, a much shorter chapter (literally less than half the size of Chapter 7).

I don't think that flowcharts are a perfect communication method (that's why I have other features in WSC too) but I still really like them in visual novels and other branching story games.

As someone who is quite visually oriented, I like being able to "see" the story as a shape so that is why I like including them.

The flowcharts in WSC have been an adventure because they are SO HUGE. Every chapter is essentially the content for 6 different characters all crammed into a single chapter. It just makes the flowcharts these huge chonks.

But they're still really fun to see once they are put together.

Anyway, that's all for this little developer interlude. Hope everyone has a nice week as I continue to pull this chapter together. We're at about 70 % and are down to art and then things like the remaining bits of flowchart as well as glossary articles and things like that.

Exciting! It's a huge chapter with a lot of action.

[tilskkarishma]

WARNING!

Actually, I didn't want to say anything about this, and to be honest, it annoys me myself, because I hate beef and arguments. I also thought: "Okay, got the money back, so that's the end of it."

But after this person made fun of me and blocked me, I now feel it's necessary to warn others so nobody else has to go through the same experience.

I paid for a commission (almost 70 euros, which is a lot of money).

After that: months of silence. No updates, no sketches, no progress on Trello, even though they claimed to have updated it. But I kept checking and for half a year absolutely nothing changed. It always said I paid, and now and then some other people were added, marked as “awaiting payment.” That's it.

Instead, they posted about being busy with mobile games and kept begging for money in public...

So I dared to ask what's going on and was ignored (person deleted it but I have a screenshot). When I finally got a bit pissed, I sent a DM and asked again what's going on, and said that this takes way too long and if it is not possible to finish it until the end of the month, I want my money back. Because I said that, I was accused of “not respecting their work,” which is pure bullshit. If I didn't respect them, why would I have commissioned them in the first place? And seriously, what work? The one they never did?

That's not only unprofessional but downright disrespectful to paying customers. And yes, I am a customer. We didn't know each other and we weren't friends. And even if we had been friends, I would still be pissed, because it's just not okay to stay silent for half a year without even a simple ��sorry, I forgot.” Everyone can forget something, but then be honest!

If you take money for a service, you carry responsibility. Period. But instead of taking responsibility and addressing the issue professionally, this person chose to share a sob story... perhaps assuming that sympathy would make me overlook the fact that this was a paid commission and not a personal favour.

Since I've often seen this tactic with private sellers, I react very strongly to it. People make up all sorts of excuses , like “I couldn't ship it, because my mother died,” instead of just admitting they were too lazy or disorganized to get things done. Sadly, this seems to be common practice and it's incredibly frustrating. I know I'm not the only one who's experienced this kind of behaviour, and I find it disturbing that people would rather spin tragic tales than take responsibility.

And if their story was true, I wonder why they didn't say anything back when it supposedly happened. Especially considering their posts are usually cheerful, funny or horny... nothing ever suggested something was wrong! When something happens in my life, I always say so in a post, even though I don't earn any money with what I do (like my AMVs). I just think people deserve honesty.

And yes, it makes me even more angry, because I am someone who's really been marked by fate all my life and who still gives everything every day despite pain, despite a full-time job, and who has never taken money for creative work (though I'm slowly considering it if people like this can suck money like parasites and not even deliver). So no, I'm not interested in hearing sad stories (especially when there's time for mobile games and other stuff…).

I just think, this person should do this as a hobby, instead of taking money. And I know this isn't normal behaviour for paid artists, because I've (thankfully!) never experienced anything like this before with any paid artist. Even someone I commissioned at Christmas time (which would've been an understandable time to delay) finished it in under a month. She even showed me sketches beforehand and communicated clearly, that she is stressed. She didn't just lead me to a website that never updated for a half year. She even charged less and it looked amazing! That's how it should be.

And if you are really mentally or physically unwell: say it openly! Close commissions finally! Communicate! But don't use it as an excuse to leave paying clients in the dark while publicly begging for more money! And don't make fun of people who – after half a year – finally want to know what's going on!

And to make this clear: I don't want to cancel or witch-hunt anyone. But I also don't want others to experience the same disappointment. That's why I'm posting this. I was fooled by a nice-looking online presence (and because this person seems to get enough love, so I thought they will do their work) and now want to warn others so they don't fall for the same.

So: Person is shrimpkini which offers commissions but doesn't care about actually finishing them. And if you ask about it, you'll get mocked and blocked.

Still: don't go to them and insult them or anything like that! No need to lower yourself to that level! This is just a warning so you don't commission something that will never be finished, because sadly, they have other priorities in life…

With that said: I want to leave it at that. Everything that needed to be said has been said, and I don't want to keep dwelling on it. I've already been upset enough and I don't want to let people like this keep ruining my peace. As I said, I would've preferred not to make this post at all, but if I stayed silent, I'd feel partly responsible if someone else ends up like me in that case.

p.s.: this was hard to write neutral (english is weird xD) and only write in the plural because I know this person does not want to be called she/her and I don't want to be disrespectful. (In German you use for "a person" she/her which makes it even more confusing for me *.*)

p.p.s.: I will save the money for a sotoba I want to buy for Mori's grave I want to visit again in two years, but if someone I trust (maybe you @ochitsubaki ^^) would do this (under 6 months...) I would pay this person. ;)

[beabatoru]

heaven or las vegas ⋆˚꩜｡ gojo x reader | fake dating au teaser

pairing ౨ৎ frat! gojo x fine arts! reader ( ft. suguru x reader )

summary ˎˊ˗ memories from years ago come crashing down on you after satoru shows up at your dorm holding a letter you wrote to him back in middle school that was never supposed to reach him, but it did, and now the boy is begging for you to be his fake girlfriend and despite the several rules you've set for both of you to follow while holding up the act, you find yourself breaking every single one.

genre/ tags : fluff, smut, major angst, fake dating, slow burn, gojo is one year older than reader, cheating, based on the film series 'to all the boys i've loved before. this will have a happy ending !

TEASER BEGINS.

the shoes were put on display so any shoppers could get a brief glance at it before deciding if it was worth buying or not. you stared at them for a while. they were a pretty pair of Mary Jane's. they were low heeled but had some chunk put into the platform part and they had a strap that wrapped around the ankle. the bow in the middle of it was small but it added so much to the design.

you always asked your mom for a pair whenever you went out with her and your sister. but she always dismissed it, saying they were too expensive. but here they are, only $40.99. your gaze turned to look at the big poster they had plastered on the window. a new months deal. 'buy one get one 50% off!'

gojo approached you holding a bag full of pizza bits and a single large cup of lemonade intended for the both of you to share from wetzels pretzels. he took the sight of you looking at a pair of shoes so intently. almost like you were debating in buying them.

"you like those?" he asked, offering you the small warm bag of food before he took a sip of the drink in his hand. you happily accepted the treats before shrugging. "not sure."

he hummed. "you've been staring at them for a while now."

"they just remind me of a pair I used to want when I was a kid. but they were always "too expensive" so my mom never got them for me. but she was always willing to drop a grand on bags she would never even use." you saw at the corner of your eyes gojo reaching to grab a piece of the pizza from the bag.

gojo didn't say anything for a while, just staring at the shoes as well as he chewed on his pizza bit. then, he turned and walked off into the store, leaving you confused. your eyes followed as he talked to an employee, pointing at the pair of shoes displayed on the window. the pair you wanted.

the clerk nodded before disappearing behind the door that read 'workers only!' you made your way inside the store to where gojo was standing, still sipping onto his comically large drink.

"uh hey what are you doing?" you asked once you reached him. he glanced back at you, reaching to grab another piece from inside the bag. "checking if they have those shoes in your size."

"..gojo" you mumbled his name awkwardly as you shifted the now empty bag in your hands because that biggie ate them all. he took a bite from the treat before feeding it to you. "shh, i'm working."

the worker returned with a box in his hand. "size seven?"gojo nodded, taking the box in his hands, gesturing for you to sit down on the seats provided by the store. "hey you don't have to.."

"I know," he interrupted. "I want to."

he got down on one knee, placing the cup he was previously sipping on next to you. his hands moved to open up the shoe box, carefully taking out the pair of black mary janes. "give me your foot" he patted his knee. "here."

"I can put them on myself.."

"I want to y/n." he said sternly, forcing your foot to rest on his knee. "i'm going to stain your pants-" you mumbled embarrassed. he squeezed your calf before slipping off the shoes you were wearing right now, grabbing the shoe, carefully putting it on your right foot. "not too loose or tight?"

you shook your head. "no.. they're.. they're perfect." he hummed, his skilled fingers adjusted the strap on your ankle handling you like you were the most valuable thing to him. he looked up at you, his expression softened the second your eyes met. "just like you." your eyes widened the second he said that, but you didn't say anything. not like you could with the way your throat was drying up. you reached for the cup of lemonade next to you as he worked on your left foot, only to realize he already finished the drink as well.

is this the type of greed they talk about in the bible?

"stand up." he ordered in which you complied. you looked down at the fresh pair on your feet, walking around a bit to test them out.

"you like 'em?" he asked again. you turned to him, walking to be right next to him. "yeah, I like them. a lot"

he hummed in acknowledgment. "well, go and look for another five pairs. they have the bogo discount anyways. might as well take advantage of it." he stood up, brushing his jeans from the small stain you left behind.

"no.. no thats too much! this and just one more will do more than enough."

"baby, seriously. go get another five pairs." he looked around the store before his eyes landed on a pair of converse. "get some converse, your black ones are all beat up."

"I like them that way." you argued as you took off the shiny shoes before replacing them with said beat up converse. "well I don't. makes you look like a sad homeless lady."

you sighed, feeling your heart warm up.

"I'm not throwing these converse away. they hold too many memories."

his hand reached for yours. "yeah, we can burn them ceremonially later." he brought your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles one by one with his pink tinted lips.

"you're not touching my babies at all."

at the very last moment, gojo changed his mind and allowed you to buy another two pairs because he's got a bunch of money just laying around in his bank account anyways. what better way to spend it on someone who he wants to spend it on.

you walked with bags spread out on each arm up to your dorm.

"woah hey wasn't aware santa claus was early this year" your roommate joked as she opened the door wider for you. "nope.. it wasn't that white haired dude."

she let out an 'ahh' as it clicked. "once again, satoru treating ms. pretty princess like a princess." you rolled your eyes as you placed the bags down on your bed. guess now you own a pair of shoes for every day of the week.

.

.

.

end of teaser

[jull-reblogs]

Yes this plateau has been driving me crazy!! I've been at the same weight for 2-3 years despite being carnivore, and I've tried a lot of stuff like exercising, cutting out cheese and dairy, OMAD and even eating more when I found out I was undereating. Nothing worked, but at least I'm not gaining anymore I guess.

Now I've been trying a 90 % fat diet since last week and the scale is finally going down, I can't believe it!! I hope I'll keep seeing results!

I like swimming too, but I hate public pools haha. And I feel you, running is terrible. To be honest I don't exercice much because it doesn't really help me lose weight. I walk for one hour a day and have a little workout/HIIT/pilates or yoga session when I feel like moving a bit more, but I don't see it as an effective weight loss tool for me. Now I want to exercise because I enjoy it, not because I feel obligated to do it.

Yes that's Provence! More specifically I spend my vacations in la Drôme provençale, a region well known for its lavender fields. Highly recommend it if you ever visit France and want to see beautiful nature and medieval towns! Also the people there are amazing.

Couldn't resist sharing a few pictures ^^

Aww thanks!! Can't wait to start posting on Sunday!

Yes it's likely that they avoided pronouns and used gender neutral words and phrases instead. My sister plays Hogwart's Legacy and the game does that. Stuff like calling the character "l'élève" (the student), which is neutral. But this game has voice acting so I understand it's just simpler to do this, even if it can sound weird.

Oh that horn is really well done! The design is a bit overcomplicated for my taste but it looks like it could be in the game.

That sounds like a really nice idea for a boss! And I'm all for secret bosses and mini-dungeons, EoW was a great step in that direction.

@aikoiya The post was getting long again so here's a new one!

I knew you were going to answer that saying "this is unfair" isn't real life logic haha (and I agree that life hasn't been fair to Sky and Sun anyway). It's just that such an ending would probably leave me feeling unsatisfied and even a bit robbed, and I think it would require a lot of other changes to be made to the story in order for it to work properly. But anyway you're right, as things are now this would just be happening behind the scenes so what I'm saying doesn't really make sense. But just thinking about it changes my perception of SS in a way I don't really enjoy, so it's not a theory I favor.

Yes in that setting I'm pretty sure that the other Sun would not make herself known to Link and Zelda and would let them have their happy ending. But I think Zelda would likely suspect her existence and know that something is wrong. I guess even Link could notice that the Temple's doors are suddenly open and would ask Impa a few questions.

I had no idea Tingle called Farore the Goddess of Wind in WW, so I went on a little quest to see if I could find the same quote in the French version of the game. Apparently it's in Tingle's description of Outset Island and I never had the chance to play with the Tingle Tuner mode. I can't find the same quote in French anywhere and I don't even know if this was included in the HD remake (I guess I'll have to wait for a Switch version to find out… if they ever release one). This has me wondering if this quote isn't something exclusive to the English version, but I can't be sure and I'd like to know what the original Japanese text says. The French wikis mention that Farore is the Goddess of Wind in WW but don't provide any quote, it just looks like the pages were translated from English but that they couldn't find the same quote in French. It's really frustrating!!

Anyway that's a bit weird because WW already establishes Zephos as the God of Wind, and he seems to be a minor deity compared to Farore. The way I see it, wind is just the element that Farore tends to be associated with, and since a lot of myths might have been lost with Hyrule in WW this could just be a mistake on Tingle's part. I mean this is the game that gave us the Golden Triumph Forks haha.

I'm not limiting Nayru/the Golden Goddesses to a singular domain, quite the opposite ^^ To me Nayru being the Goddess of Wisdom includes different concepts such as order, law, science, magic, etc., and even time (since she's introduced as the creator of the world's fondamental laws), while calling her the Goddess of Time doesn't include all of that. That's why I wrote that I found it a bit restrictive. But sure she could have both titles, the same way Farore could be known most commonly as the Goddess of Courage and also called the Goddess of Wind in some situations.

Oh I didn't think of the blocks from OoT! I would say though that they don't really use any time powers, they're just random blocks that appear or disappear for some reason when Link plays the Song of Time (it's just as absurd as playing the Song of Storms to open holes in the ground haha). But yes they were blue and associated with time, and of course Nayru is too. The difference with Hylia in my theory is that Nayru created the rules of time (if that makes sense) among other fundamental laws, while Hylia's power specifically allows her to manipulate time and foresee the future. In a way I see Hylia as Nayru's spiritual daughter who inherited some of her powers over time (and that's why the color purple she's represented with is very close to blue).

The Master Sword has also been depicted as either blue or purple though, so that asks the question of the true color of all of these things! Nayru is definitely linked to time so it makes sense that the timeshift stones are in Lanayru (and Hylia also doesn't have a province named after her).

"From the edge of time" could definitely just be a poetic way to say that Hylia kind of recorded a message for Link before dying haha. But I find it interesting that she would phrase it like that, I like to see it as a clue.

Well if Zelda simply sent Link to a point further back in time, wouldn't there be two Links existing at the same time in the Child Timeline? But sure Zelda creating a brand new timeline also raises a few questions that kind of... make my head hurt. I'm not sure what happens exactly, I've always wondered! All we know is that Link finds himself in the Master Sword's chamber with the Door of Time already open, which hints at things happening in a different way this time (because he definitely doesn't have the three spiritual stones and the Ocarina of Time yet since this is before Ganon's coup, and the ending seems to imply that this timeline's Zelda doesn't know him yet). That's why I believe Zelda might have done something a bit more complex than sending him to a point further back in time, but there's no way to be sure. The Triforce of Courage is also visible on Link's hand during the ending, and we also know thanks to TP that the Triforce is still separated in the Child Timeline despite Link and Zelda preventing Ganon from entering the Sacred Realm this time. So maybe Zelda isn't able to change everything? It's complicated haha.

Anyway, whether OoT Zelda creates a new timeline or just sends Link further back in time, that's still huge time powers and that's not something Link is able to do by playing Zelda's Lullaby.

I also believe it is more likely that Talon inherited the ranch. True, Talon might not always have been so lazy, but maybe if that was the case the game could have hinted at hit. All we know is that he leaves his daughter alone with Ingo and only comes back after Link deals with the situation, which does not make him look so great. And he only promises to work harder after that.

I'm kind of bad with names so I'm impressed you're going through all of that trouble to rename the settlements!!

I haven't gotten to developping the technology that much yet, but I'm really interested in seeing what the different races could do with it! I love the idea of using the Sheikah to infiltrate the Yiga bases. I wish TotK had done something like that and shown the Sheikah helping Link that way.

Same, I was so excited when I heard about these pirates… and then so disappointed to find nothing more than a bunch of bokos with no backstory.

Vignoble is not related to noble (though I kind of make the association in my mind, especially since vignobles are sometimes called châteaux).

Yes I thought you could maybe use clos! Aquaticlos is funny, it can work! Though maybe you could use the same logic as for the raisins (I love this Raisins de Terre idea by the way, it makes sense!) and say that what the Zoras call a clos already refers to something that's underwater, since that's probably the case for most of what they cultivate.

I don't mind helping you with French, I'm glad to do so! You put so much effort and thought into this, it's really interesting.

[musette22]

Honeys, I'm home!! 🥰 I hope everyone is doing well, I missed you all! ❤️

I'm absolutely exhausted (I've been up for like forty something hours at this point, trying to beat the jetlag) and I have a cold (*shakes fist at air-conditioning*) and I also go straight back to work tomorrow 😭 So I may be a little slow to get back into the swing of things on here for the next couple of days, but I can't wait to catch up with what I've missed and finally reply to the lovely messages I haven't had a chance to answer yet!! I missed tumblr so so much 🥹💕

But wow, I also had the most INCREDIBLE trip ❤️ I am so very grateful for all the amazing experiences I've had over the last three weeks and for the unbelievably lovely people I've met, both locals and fellow travellers 🥹 So many "pinch me" moments, I feel so lucky!!

(of course, I also ended up having a giant crush on a married fellow traveller because nothing is ever simple 🙃 obviously nothing happened, but we got along incredibly well, and he was so hot, tall and grey haired and blue eyed and well dressed and I mean, his hands and arms, ugghhh. The more tanned he got, the more I wanted to weep and/or climb him like fucking tree 😩 Anyway, while I'm a little bit sad about it, I'm also just glad to have met him, because I haven't met anyone that I found this attractive irl in years, and I'd almost forgotten how exciting (and terrible) that was 🙈 Might have to turn it into a Stucky AU with a happier ending at some point lol)

Oh, and I'll definitely share some photos soon too, for those who are interested in that sort of thing! Indonesia is a spectacularly beautiful country and I loved capturing some of it on camera!!

[senatrosims]

A NEW SIM APPLIES FOR THE VILLA ♡

This Sim was lovingly created to apply for @simsbyyelhsa's Love Island Challenge!

Is your heart in need of rescuing? Are you looking for someone willing to give you daily kisses of life and someone who will wade through hell and high water for you? Have no fear, because Aleks is here! ♡

Aleks, 23, is a Sim that likes long walks on the beach, big hearts and popcorn shrimp. Originally from Windenburg, Aleks moved to Sulani shortly after finishing his "four-year sentence" at The University of Britechester in order to follow his dreams of becoming a part-time lifeguard, which isn't much but it's honest work! As a result, he tends to spend most of his days basking in the sun, the sea and the occasional shark alert.

But now that he's obtained his dream job and secured his dream home in Sulani, there is only one thing that Aleks is really missing: someone he can share everything (his love, his home, his life) with.

Now it might sound corny, but Aleks finds himself searching for ANYSIM that would join him in enjoying life to the fullest. An active lifestyle is preferred (but not required) and a good sense of humor is always desirable since Aleks tends to be quite playful. He also has a weakness for good food. Like, REALLY good food. The way to a Sim's heart is through their stomach after all! (Or so he's been told)

Aleks is very comfortable with his body (a little too much at times) and, due to the nature of his job/living location, he isn't afraid to show a bit of skin every now and then. His only real insecurity lies in his terrible academic skills - but what he might lack in brains, he can easily replace with his capability to love fully and unconditionally.

So, if you think Aleks might be 'the one' for you, then he has a nice, fresh Lotta Cocolata with your name written ALL over it ♡

Noted Issues: Aleks appears to have been getting lip filters since he left my save file. I've tested it out and he looks like he should in my save (with just the above CC installed so there's no additional presets/sliders/etc.) so if he shows up in your game with a permanent duckface - please replace them with any pair of lips you want, CC or otherwise! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

This is the first time I'm making a Sim with the intent to apply for a slot in another Simmer's challenge, so I really hope he's okay ( ˶•́⩊•̀˶)っ

As per the requirements, I've tried to use as little CC as possible (There's no sliders or defaults but I physically can't part with my CC genetics sorry :c) so most of Aleks' clothing options are from game packs! Though if you want to add extra outfits, just make sure his shirts are open and his pants are short ( ˶•̀ᴗ-)✧

I don't really have a TOU since it's not my CC and it would feel weird, so all I really ask is that Aleks' tan stays, his eyes remain a pretty blue and his teeth are pearly white, - and please keep his sexuality set as attracted to/woohoo with BOTH male and female Sims. He's a loud and proud Bisexual! Aside from all that, you have full control! ♡

☀︎ ALEKS REIN'S GENETIC CC ☀︎

Hairstyle ☀︎ Tan Lines (NSFW) ☀︎ Skin Overlay (West Fullbody) ☀︎ Nostril Overlay ☀︎ Freckles (#05) ☀︎ Lip/Chin Overlays ☀︎ Eye Overlay ☀︎ Forehead Overlay (N2) ☀︎ Nose Overlay ☀︎ Body Kit ☀︎ Lowerlid Overlay ☀︎ Torso Overlay (TSR, tattoo ver) Misc Face Details ☀︎ Nails ☀︎ Bodyhair ☀︎ Lighting Overlay ☀︎ Eyelashes (Glasses ver)

If anything is missing, just let me know! ദ്ദി(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

☀︎ ALEKS REIN'S CLOTHING CC ☀︎

Hearing Aid (File 06, Right) ☀︎ *Everyday Shoes (SFS Link, Josie Slipons) ☀︎ Everyday Shorts (Finn Shorts) ☀︎ Everyday Shirt ☀︎ Bracelet (TSR) ☀︎ Swimwear (Slightly NSFW) ☀︎ Hot Weather Sandals

*The CC's original post by the Creator is still locked despite it being from 2019, so...

☀︎ ALEKS REIN'S COSMETIC CC ☀︎

Lipshine (VCR Lip Gloss) ☀︎ Blush ☀︎ Eyeliner

As always, thank you to all the amazing CC creators! And also thank you to @Simsbyyelhsa for encouraging me to apply! Even if Aleks doesn't participate, I'm excited to see how this challenge goes! ♡

How Your Man looks in CAS vs How Your Man looks In-Game

(Please excuse his face in the second pic, he's completely off his tits on 'juice' lmao)

☀︎ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ABOUT ALEKS ☀︎

☀︎ Originally, he was born and raised in Windenburg ☀︎ According to the Auto-Zodiacs mod, Aleks is a Virgo ☀︎ Aleks was a scout in his childhood/teenage years ☀︎ He is the eldest of three brothers by two life phases (YA and Teen) ☀︎ Aleks SWEARS he's "manifested as a mermaid" in a previous life ☀︎ He is a Highschool Dropout who later got his diploma online ☀︎ Aleks somehow managed to enroll at The University of Britechester and will refer to his time there as a "prison sentence" ☀︎ Surprisingly, Aleks has a degree in Language & Literature ☀︎ Aleks is Observant, a Morning Person and a very Brave boy ☀︎ He currently has the Energetic and Outdoorsy Lifestyles ☀︎ LOVES all Watersports (Surfing/Canoeing/etc.) don't be crude lol ☀︎ Aleks has been struck by lightning in the past (he didn't like it) ☀︎ Doesn't get along very well with Sims that are malicious or mean ☀︎ LOVES to be called "Duck" as either a nickname or a petname *winkwink* ☀︎ Aleks likes all types of romance styles - except for Gift Giving, but that's only because he sucks at picking gifts for other Sims ☀︎ He doesn't like to wear polished fashion choices. Aleks believes the fabric is "too constricting" and prefers looser clothing IYKWIM ☀︎ Doesn't get jealous easily but -due to past experience- he doesn't want his partner to woohoo with others and considers it a big dealbreaker ☀︎ Aleks has been cheated on before by Sims very close to him ☀︎ Will tell anyone and everyone about the time he fought a shark ☀︎ He doesn't 'vibe' with partners that are academic, not because they're smart but because he worries he'll embarrass them in public ☀︎ Currently doesn't want kids but may change his mind in the future ☀︎ His highest skill is Baking and his lowest skill is Singing ☀︎ Despite his singing skill being low, he LOVES karaoke ☀︎ His favourite drink is apparently a Barley Bale ☀︎ If he wasn't devoted to being a Lifeguard, Aleks would have taken up baking as a career but he's content to keep it as a secret hobby ☀︎ He has a Lhasa Apso named Bean. It was supposed to be 'Beau' but he misspelled it and is now too embarrassed to change it. ☀︎ He likes to sunbathe... 'sans swimwear' (And from the test gameplay I did with Aleks to add some of his stats, he's definitely not shy about it. Especially since he went straight up to Ukupanipo (autonomously, might I add) and had a full on conversation with the man whilst wearing nothing but a smile and a twinkle in his eye... I felt bad that Ukupanipo had to bear witness to the pale sunrise over a fallen coconut tree on a random Sunday morning so I deleted him from that save. ( ˶o _ o˶))

Sorry you had to see that Ukupanipo... (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

[oneknightstand-if]

Dear author, I could really use your help. Tell me—what is your favorite musical instrument? I want to start learning one before I turn twenty, but everyone I know keeps trying to sell me on their own favorite, claiming it’s the best in the world, and honestly, it’s been a bit too much.

I've decided to ignore all that and instead focus on what sounds truly pleasing to my ear, along with the recommendations of some truly special individuals, much like yourself, dear author! And our lord the Purple Duck, of course.

Lately, the violin has been catching my eye—it looks so shiny and the sound is such a pleasure. But the piano also seems like such a beginner’s dream.

Your thoughts?

Would you also share the ROs favorite musical instrument?

I like the violin too and also the flute. I rather regret that the instrument I picked up was the clarinet instead. Getting reeds for it and breaking them in was a real pain way back when.

Something to keep in mind, two months later and after you've already probably chosen, is that the piano is less portable and significantly more expensive if you want one of your own. (Although there's some crossover with playing keyboards there).

Merlin: One? They'll have the entire orchestra, thankyouverymuch.

Adrian: Violin or fiddle, also the flute is good, not to mention the mandolin...

Arthur: Harp, as long as he doesn't have to carry it, lyres when you're on the go

Percy: Kazoo

4̴0̴4̵ ̶N̷o̸t̸ ̶F̵o̸u̶n̴d̶: The sound of lost souls screaming

Cassandra: Cittern

Gwen: Saxophone, all those seductive songs don't lie!

Vivian: Sirens singing

Lorelei: Flute

Broderick: Synthesizer... hey, it counts!

[bamtor1sss]

—ONLINE FRIENDs

— pairing: 𝗅𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈 𝗑 𝖿.ᐟ𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 ⸝⸝ 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀

warning: two year age gap, petnames, slightly suggestive, reader has piercings, minho is so downbad lmao, not proofread!

AN: this was so so much fun to write!! i’ve been wanting to write down this idea for a while now

wc 1.1k

it was currently 3am. your eyes drug across your phone screen absentmindedly as you scrolled on youtube, searching for anything that would keep you interested. finding a few makeup videos and commentary videos about some niche random internet drama—although none of the videos were keeping you entertained like you’d hope

you sighed after a few minutes of staring at the video playing, dropping your phone to your side as you looked up to your ceiling

but then your phone vibrated 

Minho: [heyy you awake?]

you nearly jumped when you felt your phone finally vibrate and honestly you’d be lying if you said you weren’t staying up this entire time waiting for him to send his routine text 

y/n: [yeah of course i am]

you had met minho in a public chatting server, it started after you both shared your favorite artists—comparing which album was their best—to sharing spotify accounts and listening to music together on call—which turned to deep late night calls about why life felt weird 

“do you ever feel like you’re not real?” type of stuff… it was weird how fast

you two bonded—sending hearts to each other and regularly saying how much you loved him and vice versa. 

and now, it became routine to text daily and call late at night. since during the day you were mostly busy with school, and he was busy with work—night was the perfect time to talk to him while your parents were asleep

[Minho is starting a facetime call: Join?]

it startled you a bit that he called so quickly but it was expected since you’d often tell him to call when it was late at night when your parents weren’t awake 

you checked yourself in your phone camera— adjusting your hair before you picked up..

"yo. y/n " he said blankly 

he was wearing a grey hoodie, no shirt on underneath his tattoo on his chest peeking through. his dark bangs were pushed back revealing more of his forehead than usual. you could hear the music from his phone in the background

“yeah? what’s up” you said admiring him through the screen 

"couldn't sleep and god m’so boreddd"

he yawned, leaning down on his bed. staring at the empty room, the sound of his music faintly played filling the silence. “just wanted to hear your voice and stuff” he mumbled “work was such a pain”

“hmm” you hummed, nodding silently  in acknowledgment 

he glanced at the screen, noticing you weren’t fully on screen 

"dude, c'mon i've seen you before .. show me your face please?” he leaned into the camera more

your eyes peeked up at his words “why? you've seen my face like once or twice before?” you smiled slightly 

"yeeeah—but we facetime a bunch, and like you never let me see your face fully…it annoys me, i wanna look at you properly you know?” he ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip for a moment. 

this behavior typically wasn’t unusual for him—sure at times he was horrendously down bad for you but you’d never tell him to stop or admit that you liked it at least

“ugh- you're so annoying you know that? never satisfied hm” you cooed, trying to hide your soft smile as you shifted your camera 

“mm-my baby’s so cute yeah?” he mumbled, smiling slightly 

you scoffed quietly before speaking 

“like my piercing?” you used your thumb to pull down your bottom lip showing him the fresh piercing in your inner lip, slowly tracing your tongue over it

he watched you intently—his eyes flickering between your face and the piercing. he swallowed slightly—shifting in his bed. trying to ignore the stirring feeling in his stomach

"yeah, yeah—i like it...it's cute. it suits you. when'd you get it?" he spoke slightly breathlessly

“yesterday” you said,  looking off into the room

he watched your face intently. you looked really really hot with the piercing. but he tried to focus on your words rather the growing feeling in his stomach

"bet it hurt like hell..." 

“mm-yeah but it wasnt so bad” you looked back at the camera now “now i  got this and a tongue piercing”  you paused before speaking “you like it?”

he stared at the screen like he was studying you. he tried to hide it, but he was definitelyfailing

“yeah-it looks nice. suits you pretty well, actually. makes you look so fucking hot—kinda wanna taste the metal” he spoke quietly

you clicked your tongue in your mouth, trying to reel yourself back in after what he said “yeah i bet its cute to you, ..you pervert” 

he scoffed slightly at your words, smiling to himself “mmhm, you like it.. i know you like all the little compliments i give you, yea?” 

you shrugged “i suppose” your eyes moving back at camera 

"yeah, i like your hair. you've got pretty hair—always looks effortless pretty. mm—and your lips?” he spoke slowly, like he was testing the waters 

"yeah, your lips are so so—pretty. they're like- soft. i bet they feel nice..." he sighed, closing his eyes slightly

“yeah? send me twenty bucks and i'll do anything with this soft~ velvety lips” you spoke exaggeratedly, laughing at yourself 

“god .. don’t piss me off” he laughed “you’re such a pain actually.. you probably get off to this” 

“me? making you mad? for my enjoyment? i'd never~” you cooed

although he smiled he’d be lying if he said you weren't pissing him off a little. he just wanted to grab you through the phone and bite your lips himself 

"yeah, of course you wouldn't sweetie... you're such an innocent little baby- mhm?"

“yeah.. innocent” you smiled 

he shifted in his bed, trying to deal with the fact his pants were feeling tighter the more he kept talking

"come on, … i bet you think it's hot though- am i not enough?”

“nahh you’re not” you laughed watching as he started to pout

“mm .. you wouldn’t be saying that if i was there with you- shoving my fingers in your mouth though”

“whaaa—! minhoo?” you fake gasped “didn’t you just turn nineteen mm?” you mocked  “you can’t say those things to me—i’m seventeen remember~!” you drug your words out purposely

he smirked slightly "mm, yeah i just turned nineteen six months ago, yeah. and you turned seventeen like- three months ago-?” he huffed

“pervert” you mumbled under your breath 

“only for you” he laughed leaning back into his bed a little

-

ˋ°•*⁀➷ @lwhyuka we’re not gonna talk abt how i’ve been tagging the wrong @ 😭

a/n : please please please reblog or comment if you liked~ also if you have any fic requests please send them my way!! ^^🤍

[nineteenninety-six]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Support Group

Pairings: Jack Abbot x Widow!Reader

TW: Spousal death. Car accidents. Mentions of drink driving. Death etc. It's not particular heavy but be mindful and cautious.

AN: Sorry for lack of everything, I've just been busy with my job. I've also been watching ER lol

Synopsis: Jack runs to someone he met a few months ago at a Spousal Loss Support Group.

Jack didn’t recognise you when you first entered the church on that Thursday evening. He greeted and welcomed you as he did with every newcomer to the spousal loss support group. With a soft smile, he shook your hand gently, introduced himself, and welcomed you to the group, showing you the coffee, tea, and snack table before moving on to greet the other attendees.

Jack discovered the support group a couple of months after moving to Pittsburgh. He had covered a day shift for Robby and decided to take a scenic walk home to decompress when he stumbled upon the meeting. Since then, Jack has become more involved, running the group on his days off.

Once everyone is seated in a circle, Jack begins the session.

“Good evening everyone,” Jack starts, standing to address the room. “I see we have a new face here, so I’ll begin with my story. Of course, I don’t expect anyone to share if they don’t want to. Don’t feel pressured to share; it’s perfectly fine to just listen if that’s what you prefer.”

Jack sinks back into his seat, retreating into the distant, numb composure he always seems to wear when talking about his late wife.

“I was in the military,” he begins quietly. “An army medic. I’d only been out for a week when it happened.” His voice falters. He pauses, clears his throat, then goes on. “It was a brain aneurysm. Ruptured while she slept.”

Jack looks up and catches your eye and he finds he couldn't look away from you as he continues his story.

"She died in her sleep…there was nothing anyone could do about it. Never before had I doubted my skills as a doctor like I did at that moment. I kept going back over every moment and thinking about what symptoms I could have missed, was I too distracted about being home? Maybe she knew something was wrong but didn't want to worry me. Did I see something but brush it aside? I couldn't forgive myself, I blamed myself."

Jack finally sits down as the group softly claps before another member stands and tells their story. A few more people tell their stories before you finally gather the courage and stand up. Your eyes land on Jack as you introduce yourself, for some reason it calms your nerves and you never look away as you begin to talk.

"My husband died two months ago. His name was Ethan. He was uh-...hit by a drunk driver in a hit and run. It was late at night so he wasn't discovered for a while, he was taken to the hospital where he died." Your voice breaks as you recount that fateful night, "He was coming home from a late shift at work and I had no idea…not until I was woken up by the person on the other end telling me to get to Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center as soon as possible."

Realisation hits Jack like a smack across the face as he stares at you in shock and surprise. He was the ER attending that night and was the doctor who fought hard to save your husband's life. You recognized him. You could never forget him as he is the one who brought you to see your husband when you finally arrived at the hospital.

Jack is suddenly transported back to that night.

Jack's sigh was filled with mostly exhaustion and a little bit of irritation as he stepped out of the trauma bay, peeling off his gloves and gown and dumping them into the bin. He had tried for two hours to save the poor man but his efforts had been in vain. If the man had been taken to the hospital as soon as the accident happened then he would have had a fighting chance but according to the EMT's that brought him in, he was left in the streets for almost an hour, bleeding away precious minutes.

Bridgette approaches him with a soft sympathetic smile on her face, "His wife is the family room."

"Already?" Jack expected to at least rest his feet and down a mug of coffee before he was telling people he couldn't save their loved ones.

"I can get Shen or Ellis to do it." Bridgette suggests.

"No, no, it's okay." Jack shakes his head, denying the offer, "Just give me five minutes."

Bridgette nods and leaves him be, returning to the nurses station.

As it always did whenever he lost someone, guilt began to eat at him. He prided himself on being a great doctor who thrived in high stress, complicated situations and thought outside of the box, using skills he developed during his time serving. So when he couldn't save someone, especially someone who otherwise should've survived, guilt and shame gnawed at him.

Jack limps over to the family room, his prosthetic chafing uncomfortably as he walks. He needed at least a thirty minute break and to let his leg breathe but he powered through anyway.

He spies you through the small window in the door, you sit on the couch, legs shaking in nervousness as you chew your fingernails. Jack took a deep breath before he knocked on the door and entered, causing you to jump to your feet and face him.

"I'm Dr Abbot, I was your husbands doctor tonight—"

A cry rips out of your throat at his words and quickly slap your hands over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the rest but they spill with ease. Unintentionally or not, Dr Abbot told you all you needed to know.

"H-he's dead…oh god-" You sob, "Oh my God, not my Ethan."

Jack places a hand on your shoulder to grab your attention, "Why don't we take a seat?"

You nod mindlessly as you settle back down in your seat, sobs still escaping you. Dr Abbot passes you tissues, which you gratefully accept, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"Your husband was involved in a car accident. Unfortunately, it was a hit and run and your husband was left unfound for a significant amount of time before the EMT's were called and he was brought here." Jack takes your hand in his as you begin to cry again, "I'm sorry to say this but your husband has died. We tried for two hours to bring him back but his injuries were too severe."

Jack continues to hold your hand, silently comforting you as you sob over the loss of your husband. 

"I had just spoken to him last night…he works the late shift so he always comes home in the middle of the night—" You weep, "I-I can't believe it."

"The police will be here at some point to talk to you. To get some information to help them find the person who did this."

You nod mutely, your brain scrambled from the past ten minutes. The worst day of your life had just started and you knew it won't be ending anytime soon.

You clear your throat and look at Dr Abbot, "Can I see him? Please?"

"You can but I must remind you, your husband was in a vehicular accident…it won't be what you'd expect. You need to know what you're going to see."

You nod, "I know, I know but I still want to see him."

"Okay." Dr Abbot gives you a nod and helps you stand, your hand still in his. "Let's go."

Jack finds you once the session ends, approaching you as everyone slowly trickles out of the room.

He softly calls out your name, stopping by your side as you look up at him.

"I'm uh-not sure if you remember me but-"

"I do," You interrupt, "I remember you Dr Abbot. I can never forget that day."

"Jack. You can call me Jack."

You slowly nod, "Okay Jack."

"It's good to see you here. These places are good for support, I always suggest them."

"You know from experience?" You make a joke.

Jack huffs a laugh, "Yeah, I am."

"That was a bad joke, I'm sorry. I didn't know you lost your wife, I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's not something I shout from the rooftops," Jack shrugs, "Are you free after this?"

"I was planning on taking a long walk whilst crying but I can defer it to tomorrow. What were you thinking?"dr

"Coffee?" Jack suggests.

"Sounds good," You nod, "Lead the way."