#K-Cup Holder

[bestphoneunder20k]

Product Reviews: Comparing Toilet Paper Holder, Toothbrush Organizer, Stocking Holders, and K-Cup Holder

Hey there! We’re excited to dive into this review and comparison of some awesome products. Today, we’ll be taking a closer look at a variety of items that can add convenience and organization to your bathroom and decorations to your home during the festive season. From toilet paper holders to toothbrush organizers, stocking holders, and coffee pod holders, we’ve got you covered! Now, let’s talk…

[tomatoluvr69]

WIBTA If I Tell Quirked-Up Cisboy Roommate He Wouldn’t Last One Day Of My Malevolent Goings-On.

[hunterthecharmer]

Unexpected - Part 4

Summary: You work for an events company and end up being assigned as a talent handler for a 2 week long convention. Your co-worker ends up assigned to Glen Powell, but you catch his eye. Can you remain professional and keep him from knowing you're actually a pretty big fan of his?

Authors note: we are finally off to the races with the Glen content. It’s only uphill from here 💙 inserting these pics because they’re my inspo for his look. Let me know your thoughts!!

You awaken to the sound of your phone buzzing loudly on your wooden nightstand. You groan as you reach toward the glowing screen, eyes burning as you flip it over to see who’s blowing you up. It’s 5am, and Savannah’s contact photo fills your screen. You hit the answer button, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. “Hello?” you croak, voice hoarse.

“Oh, thank goodness you answered! I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last forty-five minutes. I still feel like crap, is there any way you can take over Glen’s schedule today? I already texted our lead about it, and Dylan doesn’t have any overlaps so you’re good there.”

You blink slowly as you try to process her words. “Sure, Sav. I’m sorry you’re sick.” You finally reply. “When do I need to pick him up?” Savannah coughs on the other end of the line. “His first event is at 8! Thank you so much, I owe you big. I’m gonna go back to sleep.” She hangs up, and you fall back into the mattress.

---

“I’m gonna need 3 coffees this morning, thanks.” You hurriedly grab the drink carrier back to your golf cart before speeding over to Dylan’s cabin. “Morning Mr. O’Brien!” You grin at him, pointing excitedly to the coffee cups. “Heck yeah! Let’s do this.” He takes the cup from your hands and slides next to you. “Dylan, I have to cover for Savannah today with Glen so it might get a little hectic, but don’t worry. I promise you’re my priority, and you won’t be late to anything!” You smile at him as you drive toward his trailer, putting your sunglasses on with your free hand. Dylan sips his coffee, “No problem.”

Once he’s dropped off, you head to pick up Glen. You pull in front of his cabin and beep the horn a few times to let him know you’re ready. He emerges moments later in jeans and a blue argyle sweater, hair perfectly styled. His leather watch catches the sun as he bounces down the stairs, face lighting up when he spots the coffee in the cup holder. “You’re my hero!” You giggle before reversing the cart. “Bad nights sleep, Mr. Powell?”

“Just a lot on my mind.” He answers quickly, only glancing over to you out of the corner of his eye as he drinks his coffee. He then waves a hand in front of you both, continuing. “Woah woah woah, Savannah does NOT call me that. Does Dylan ask to be addressed that way? Cuz’ I will give him so much shit for that later.” You burst into laughter together, covering your mouth in embarrassment. “Look, we are technically supposed to address all talent this way. Unless they specify otherwise that is.” You smile to yourself as you drive.

“Well I am definitely specifying. You’re like, what, only a few years younger than me right? I’m just Glen. K?” You nod. “Understood.” You let silence fill the air as you continue to drive towards his trailer, a couple light giggles escaping from both of you.

“Also, I know you’ve heard already but I will be covering Savannah today, so anything you need, just text or call me. Okay?” you look at him and he shoots you a thumbs up, downing the rest of his coffee before you arrive at the trailer.

“Have a good class!” You encourage, and Glen spins around to wink at you while clicking his pen, journal tucked under his arm. You wait until he gets through the door before you drive away to check on your friend.

….

“Long story short, I’m feeling much better.” Savannah sighs as she cuddles further into her blanket, the tv lightly playing in the background of her room. “I’m glad to hear it. You think you’ll be back in business tomorrow? It’s getting a little difficult with Glen. Not in a bad way, it’s just that he is being really sweet and I…I’m trying really hard to be professional. But you know how I feel about him!” You exclaim in a hushed tone, flopping backward onto the comforter. Savannah nods knowingly. “Just keep being yourself, you can’t help how he acts or feels toward you. You just can’t forget that you have a job to do.” You listen to her, twisting your hair around your finger as your stomach drops. You spend a little more time with her before heading back to pick up the boys and continue to drop them off for their events the rest of the day. Fortunately for you, they both had events close in proximity to each other so you didn’t have to drive either of them far, which left less time for you and Glen to talk. By the time the day was over, you happily slipped off your shoes and took a shower longer than normal to release some of your nerves. Glen was a celebrity, and naturally charming. No way would he ever actually flirt with you, right? You’re a nobody. Just a normal girl who happens to be working an event he booked to help him further his career. His very real, very serious Hollywood career.

You allow the warm water to cascade down your back for a while before stepping out of the shower to slide into bed, flipping on the TV to watch a movie and enjoy your pizza the craft service sent you to your cabin with.

As the hours pass, a storm forms outside and you welcome the thunder with the occasional flashes of lightning making the room glow. It eventually lulls you to sleep until you’re ripped from your dream to the sound of your work phone buzzing from across the room. You instantly snap up in bed at the different ring tone, your brain telling you this is important. You lunge toward the phone and look at the caller ID - it’s Glen’s assistant. Confused, you answer the call.

“Hello, this is..” A female’s voice instantly begins speaking as soon as they have confirmation someone is on the other end of the phone. You listen closely, rubbing your eyes as you realize it’s 3 in the morning. You learn that Glen’s mom has been trying to get ahold of him all night but he hasn’t heard her calls; she and his dad were out riding their electric bikes that evening when his dad accidentally wrecked it, hurting his back pretty badly. They had been out and about downtown so his mom didn’t want Glen to hear it from a news outlet before he could hear it from them and know his dad was going to be fine. You feel your heartbeat quicken as you assure her that you’d let Glen know as soon as possible so he could give his family a call, since they were all still at the hospital with his dad. You hang up with her and start slipping on your tennis shoes and rain jacket, grimacing at your air dried hair in the mirror and deciding to throw on your hat to hide it. The rain was still coming down heavily outside, so you’d need to be quick. You rush out the door and onto your golf cart, instantly missing having a car here on the property. You make it to Glen’s cabin in no time, struggling to see through all the rain. The claps of thunder startle you as you put the cart in park and run to the front door. You knock loudly on the door, calling Glen’s name as you do. “Glen, Glen! Wake up! Please!” You bang on the door about 6 more times before the door finally swings open, a very tired and confused Glen standing before you in his sweatpants. “What’s going on?” His voice is raspy as he steps aside for you to come in, drenched from the storm. You stand near the front door and pull your phone out of your jacket pocket. “I’m sorry to wake you, but your assistant called me. Your dad’s in the hospital for a back injury. He and-” Glen cuts you off, eyes widening. “Oh my gosh, is he ok? When did this happen?” He paces over to his phone on the nightstand, raking a hand through his hair as he sees all his missed call notifications. “He’s okay, I promise! He had an accident on the electric bike with your mom downtown. She wanted to tell you before you heard it elsewhere.” You finally get out all the details, watching as he nods along while dialing his mom. They speak for a few moments before hanging up. You tried not to eavesdrop but you could hear most of what was said. They didn’t want him to fly all the way back to Texas, there was nothing he could do there that he couldn’t do here. They would discharge his dad in a day or so, it wasn’t like it was life threatening. Glen sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes wandering over to yours. “Thank you for driving over here to tell me, I’m a pretty heavy sleeper.” He shoots you a sleepy smile, the pain he is trying to hide all over his face. It hurts you to see him so upset, so worried.

“Of course, I’m just glad I heard my phone and that everyone’s okay.” You yawn, awkwardly shifting your weight as you adjust your hat on your head, irritated at how drenched you were. You were shivering in his doorway, texting his assistant to let her know you had told Glen and all was well.

“Hold on, is that a Longhorns hat?” He asks in disbelief, slipping a t- shirt over his head before suddenly standing to walk over to you. In one quick motion, you cover the logo with one hand and pull your hood over your head, body turning toward the doorknob. “Uh, yeah! Yeah, it is. Small world, right? Anyways, I’ll let you get back to sleep.” You stumble over your words, knowing full well that he could never know the real reason as to why you own the hat on top of your head. Never.

“You were already awesome, but this just tipped you over the edge.” He smirks playfully at you, his warm hands reaching for your cap and carefully lifting it off of you. He inspects the inside, giving a nod of approval before putting it back on you. “Yep, that’s official alright.”

Grinning at each other, you twist the doorknob and step backward, the cold rush of the rain and winds blowing the hood off your head. “What’re you doing?” Glen shouts, quickly slamming the door shut and tugging your wrist towards him, and back towards his warm room. “It’s nasty out there, no way I’m letting you drive back yet. You can hang here until it clears up.” Glen throws the blanket draped over the couch in front of the fireplace over to you, and you catch it with a huff. “No, Glen..do you understand that I will lose my job if anyone sees me leaving here at this hour? It’s extremely unprofessional.” You shake your head while draping the blanket over your shoulders, thankful for its warmth. Glen leans against the tufted sofa, crossing his arms as he purses his lips. “You came here to give me a message about my family. I don’t care who I have to explain that to. Now come over here and let’s get you warmed up.” His tone is quiet now, dripping with exhaustion and care. He was not going to take no for an answer.

Hanging your head in defeat, you kick off your shoes and jacket before heading over to join him by the fireplace. He flips a switch on the electric fireplace, the heat quickly warming your bones. You watch the flames dance along the screen, unusually grateful that it wasn’t a real fireplace at this moment because of the time it might take to get it going. Glen sighs as if he is having the same thought before taking a seat on the couch. He drapes an arm over the backside of it, as if to invite you to sit next to him. You opt for the floor, planting yourself on the soft shag rug. He clicks his tongue with a low hum before sliding down to join you, nudging your shoulder.

“I don’t bite, you know.” He began, before gently removing your hat from your head, your hands reaching up to smooth out your frizzy hair immediately. Glen slowly stops you, his own hands covering yours to pull them down. You stare at each other for a moment, as you wait for him to say something else. When he doesn’t, you speak up to fill the quiet space. “Thanks for letting me wait out the storm. I hope it clears up befo-“

Glen cuts you off.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

His blunt confession rattles you, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights. Had you been that obvious?

Your mouth goes dry, mind swirling with what to say to him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.” You lie, your expression one of stone while your tone betrays you. You so desperately wished that you could be more coy at this moment.

His sage eyes sparkle at you, his body shifting so that he’s fully facing you now, hugging his knees to his chest as he watches you go still.

“It’s 4am, you’re off the clock and I’m calling your bluff.” his lips curl into another smirk. Your eyes search his face, the glow of the flames making him look even better than normal. You make a mental note of his disheveled hair, not able to stop yourself from running your fingers through it. He exhales deeply, enjoying your touch. You search his face for any sign that he wants you to stop, but instead his eyes begin to close, head leaning forward into your touch. A few long, quiet moments pass, the storm outside and crackle of the fireplace filling the room.

“You didn’t deny it.” He finally whispers, his voice so relaxed you almost can’t hear him.

You slowly halt scratching his head, your hands moving to either side of his face to gently trace his features. He smiles softly at you, and it makes your heart leap.

His hands rest on your ankles as you face him, legs criss crossed. The contact makes your breath quicken, thankful they aren’t any higher.

“Alright, fine. Yes, I may or may not….” you pause, carefully choosing your words, “find you attractive.”

His eyes widen, hands suddenly raising to grip your upper arms before swiftly pushing you backwards to pin you onto the floor. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite catch that. I’m gonna need you to speak a little louder for me.” His tone is low, and extremely flirty. You giggle beneath him, his boyish expressions making you dizzy. You’ve already admitted the words to him, no use in trying to be bashful now.

“I find you attractive, okay?!” You admit, covering your face with your hands to hide your burning cheeks.

“Oh no no no, uh uh. Don’t go acting all shy on me now. Look at me.” He laughs with you, prying your hands away. He lowers his nose to graze yours, a warm hand pushing your hair back from your forehead.

You bring your eyes up to meet his gaze, the warmth of his breath and smell of his cologne enveloping you.

“Hi.” You whisper softly, the last few days of interacting with him feeling like a strange lead up to a moment like this. It felt like something out of a movie. Your mind was screaming at you to get up off the floor and drive back to your cabin for the sake of your job and being professional, while your body was paralyzed in place.

“Hi.” He softly exhales back to you, brushing noses with you again before kissing your cheek. His soft lips, the warmth of the fireplace and the wind blowing outside made you sink into the floor beneath him. How many times had you dreamt of a moment like this? And then for it to happen with your celebrity crush?

Lifting his head to get a better look at you, his eyes search your face for a reaction. You can feel your cheeks getting tight at how hard you’re smiling, heart beating out of your chest. You feel your lips part, eyes dropping back to his lips. Feeling brave and overtaken by your attraction to him you lace your hands behind his neck to pull him back down to you, lips crashing together. The kiss is soft but firm, your fingers drifting to find his hair before he deepens the kiss. A strong arm loops under your back, pressing his body closer to yours. You hum against his lips, tasting his minty mouthwash as his tongue intertwines with yours.

His other hand reaches up to hold the side of your face, his thumb gently circling your cheek, right near the edge of your lips.

Finally breaking apart for air, Glen lifts you from the soft rug and brings you to your feet, placing your arms over his shoulders to be back around his neck as his arms snake around your waist to pull you into him, his lips finding yours again. He guides you backwards towards his bed, your knees bending at the side of the bed frame to sit on the edge mattress while you both continue to kiss each other’s faces off. When his hands start to glide underneath your oversized sleep shirt, you pull back from him, eyebrows raised. “We should stop.” You pant, voice quiet. He pouts at you, fingertips running up and down your spine. You close your eyes, trying to gauge if the rain had let up. It sounded like it had, to your dismay. You were also trying to soak in this moment because chances were it wasn’t ever going to happen again. When you open your eyes, his are now closed as he continues to trace circles on your back. You run a hand through his hair to put it semi back to normal, gently tapping the side of his face to wake him up. “Hey, you should get some sleep. I think it’s slowing down out there so I’m gonna head back.”

His eyes shoot open, and you feel a tinge of guilt as you note the redness in them now. Yours probably matched. You place both palms on his chest to wiggle your body away from him off the bed, making a beeline for your shoes and jacket near the door. It was taking every last bit of willpower not to turn around to tackle him back onto the bed, your body already missing his touch. He follows you to the door, handing your hat back to you with a smirk. “Thanks again.”

Your brows knit together in confusion as you take the hat from him, pulling your hood over your head and feeling around in your pocket for the cart key. “For..?” Your voice trails off. Glen laughs, “For the update on my dad. And for the kisses.” He winks at you, and your cheeks flush. Unsure of what to say, you step closer to him, his body leaning down to you in response. Getting on your tiptoes, you quickly cover his face in kisses, the child-like giggle that escapes his lips making your heart swell. You purposely leave his lips out of it, kissing his cheeks one last time before backing away from him. He frowns suddenly, shaking his head.

“Why’re you running away?” His tone is still playful, making it harder for you to leave. You felt like you were having an out of body experience, shocked at your bravery to kiss his face like you’d daydreamed of doing while watching his films, running your hands through his sandy blonde hair and pressing your bodies together. You needed to let him sleep, and you needed to rest too.

“I’m not, we just need to be able to function tomorrow. Goodnight, Glen.” You smile sweetly at him, shimmying your long coat sleeve off to expose your left hand to give him a tiny goodbye wave. He groans, throwing his head back before holding the door for you, watching as you drive away.

[bones4thecats]

Miko's Army! Sister; TFP! Bulkhead's S/O

Character: Bulkhead (Transformers Prime) Inspired By: The most random thoughts A/N: This may be a part two, don't know, y'all can vote after reading! ⚠️ Trigger Warnings for: Nothing ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Bulkhead ══════════════════════════════╝

💥 You were Miko's older sister, being 9 years older than the 15-year-old. She admired everything you did growing up. You were a very strong woman, participating in multiple strength-related sports as you aged, ranging from wrestling to volleyball

💥 When you turned 18, you moved into America and gained citizenship before joining their military, becoming one of their best members quickly. Once you returned from missions overseas, you got the news that your sister, Miko, had been getting ready to be an exchange student from your parents

💥 It definitely shook your life around, as you hadn't seen her since she was 9 and you were a new-adult. Miko was ecstatic to move in with her older sister once again, knowing you would be such an amazing caretaker for the meanwhile

💥 As the time passed, Miko gained a strong love for American pop-culture. She dyed part of her hair pink and grew into a thrill-seeking young teenager with a strong sense of bravery and loyalty, which she gained from your influence

💥 One morning, she had woke up after falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV with you reading a book in your chair. She was not wanting to go to school, but she knew that you wanted her to go and she couldn't make you angry, your anger scared everyone

💥 She lightly walked out into the living room, finding you there with your canine, Koro, sitting down with his vest wrapped around his body

"What are ya' doing?" She asked.

"Getting ready for work. I have a shift starting at 9:00, so you might wanna get ready 'cause you're getting dropped off early."

"Ugh..." She groaned as she walked away to get dressed and fix her hair.

"Don't worry, Miko. I should be off sooner rather than later tonight, my boss said that I could leave to get you and get back when you're home."

💥 Miko, after some bribery from you, got dressed and pulled her hair up into the two buns and single ponytail in the back. You smiled and handed her a lunchbox filled with her favorite foods before grabbing your own along with your keys, turning on your 2009 Ford F-150, and vesting up your dog before leaving

💥 As you drove Miko to school, you got a call. Picking it up, you answered formally to your boss before asking him what he needed you to do the rest of the day

"Well, Agent Nakadai, we are in need of your presence today. A plan is needing some finalization. Are you clear to come in?"

"Yes, sir. I'm about two minutes away from my sister's school, I'll drop her off and head over immediately."

"Alright. I shall see you soon, Agent."

"You as well, sir."

💥 Hanging up your phone, Miko asked who called, to which you said your boss before laying your phone in the cup holder and turned on some Slash Monkey, knowing it was Miko's favorite band to listen too

💥 She sang along to the music while playing an air guitar as you laughed and kept driving, only slowing down once entering the school-area. Miko looked at you and smiled, pulling her tank-top strap back up and slinging her bag over her shouldr before jumping out, saying her goodbyes, before running off to screw around like normal

💥 You smiled and drove off towards your work, hoping that this wouldn't cause anything to keep you for too long. You needed to hang around your sister more, work just- could get difficult...

»–•–«

💥 It did not go as planned.

💥 Once you saw the lock hit when Miko would get out, you groaned, grabbing your phone and calling your sister. She answered and you just said that she needed to tell you where she would be in around 2 to 3 hours, and she just said she'd be walking around Jasper

💥 You told her that you'd call when you got out and that when you did, she would need to go to K.O. Burger and wait for you there. She agreed and said she was gonna go have some fun now

"Okay, just-"

"Be careful, yeah, I know."

"Love you, Miko."

"You too, big sis!"

»–•–«

💥 Nodding as you spoke to your boss again, you heard both Arcee and Bumblebee returning from grabbing the two male humans that found them in the action against two Vehicons the day prior

"Are the two of them back?"

"Yes they are. I better go see the boys and make sure they don't pass out."

"That you should. Have a good rest of your day, Agent."

"You as well, Fowler."

💥 Closing the phone and stuffing it in your pocket, you turned around and began walking towards the main room where the others were. You were ready to meet the boys, but were not ready to meet the third human they got

"I'm Raf." You heard.

"I'm Miko! Who're you?"

"Bulkhead..."

"Are you a car? I bet you're a truck. A monster truck! Do you like heavy metal? How much do you weight? Ever use a wrecking-ball for a punching bag?"

💥 You quickened your walk to a run as you heard the ramblings. You prayed to every God of every religion that that was not the Miko you were related too

💥 WHY WERE YOU WRONG ALL THE TIME?!

"Miko Nakadai! What are you doing here?!"

💥 The female froze as everyone turned to look at you in confusion. Did you know the young girl?

"Hey! Funny seeing you here!"

"I told you to- why can't you listen for five minutes?" You mumbled as you ran down the stairs to your younger sister.

"Uhm, Y/N?" Bulkhead asked, causing you to turn around to look up at the green-mech.

"...Yes?"

"How do you know her?"

"Oh, don't tell me she's your sister." Ratchet said, a groan ready to come out.

"Well... yeah."

💥 The Autobots looked at you with shock, you guys looked similar, yet different. Her hair has a thick, pink stripe while yours had nothing. She had a very flamboyant fashion sense, while yours was far more dark and solid-appearing. Miko also had an outgoing personality while you were cold and calculating with your words

💥 Bulkhead looked at you and back at Miko nervously, wondering what his next words should be

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?!" Miko asked excitedly.

"It was classified." You glared at Bumblebee and Arcee, making them slightly shift, before continuing. "And none of your business."

"Y/N, if I may ask, how old is Miko?"

"I'm 15! Y/N's-"

"24. We're aware."

"I didn't know how old she was." Arcee said, making Bulkhead slightly tense and look away, his face-plate slightly tinted blue.

"Are you like my sister's boyfriend or something? She does rave about someone nicknamed 'Bulky'."

"MIKO! Enough!" You yelled, grabbing her arm and pulling her away to look at you, only to be interrupted by Optimus walking inside to speak to the humans.

"Y/N, I believe it is in all of our best interests to assist these... children, in gaining some consolation in what is happening in this base."

"Understood, Prime."

💥 Bulkhead saw you slightly back away, so he bent his hand down for you to jump on, which you did. He picked you fully up to perch on his shoulder and listen as Optimus spoke to your sister and the two other males

💥 You looked at Miko and sighed... this was going to be a more difficult time caring for her than you thought...

[whoopsyeahokay]

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

(AN: this'll be a multiple-oneshots deal—out of order—with daily additions until it's complete.)

🛎️prompt - Wally Clark NSFW alphabet.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. grey!Wally Clark. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - P

P is for the personalized pleasure Wally loves to dote on you. He's a giver like that. What makes you happy makes him happy and he never holds back once he has you alone. Wants to treat his pretty little passenger princess right.

And, damn, he can't hold back when it comes to you. Has to stop at Starbucks and grab your favorite drink before he parks up the street, away from prying eyes. There's a gift in the backseat; something that caught his eye at the mall on Tuesday when he and the boys went to the arcade. Spent his whole paycheck from Reggie's Auto Repair on it without regret.

He can't wait to see you in it. Can't wait to get his hands and mouth all over you, eat you out through the lace, grip the ribbon in a tight fist to deepen the curve of your spine as he fucks in to you.

You make such a beautiful picture under him.

Wally waits, leaning on the hood of his dad's convertible, and greets you with a lopsided smile when you finally sashay up to him, gorgeous, draped in chiffon his favorite color. He drags you into him with his hands on your ass and pins you against him so you'll never get away. Kisses you deep and dirty until he has to stop before he bends you over the nose of the car and treats your neighbors to a show.

He parts with a sweet peck to your lips, opens the door for you, and winks when you notice your drink in the cup holder.

Forty minutes later, Wally's got one hand on the wheel, the other two-fingers deep inside you, pumping tempo to the music as the car charges down a country backroad. Wind whipping your hair, mouth open in pleasure as you pant for more, oh God, Wally, don't stop.

"S'that good, baby?" He says, slow, dark with promise, "Like it when I get you wet like that?"

He's hard, excited for the reward he's planned for himself after he makes you cum. Park in the trees near Castor Lake, tear open the crotch of those cute, baby-doll briefs you opted for, and sink into you from below as he sits like a king in the driver's seat.

And then he'll dress you up, wrap you in the violet lace and ribbon he bought for you, and play out every fantasy he had when he slipped the cashier his credit card.

🧿___________________________

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

[d10nsaint]

LOVE SONG | Lawyer! Nanami K. x fem! reader

syn: Nanami Kento was your work partner. Nothing more, nothing les-said no one. ever. Request is here.

notes; HAD TO CRACK MY LAPTOP OPEN FOR THIS ONE !!! this is prob the most plot i’ve ever put into my writing… i’ll proofread tyis later (no i wont) can someone tell me the wc🙏

Nanami let out a deep sigh as he loosened his tie. It was way past the normal time he left, the sky dark and all the lights from the city settled outside his window. He would’ve left hours ago if he didn’t have to revise all of his notes for a very important case tomorrow. He’d been working on it for weeks, and losing this case would be a major fuck up. As he rubbed his temples, he heard a faint knock at the door.

“ I’m back,” You said, slowly opening the door with your back, your hands full with a tray of two takeout coffee cups and a bag of snacks. “I got coffee from the place a few blocks down, got some snacks too… just in case…” You said, muttering the last part, looking at Nanami. The man was a work of art, defined jawline, gorgeous veins and harsh muscle made him, turning him into pure eye candy.

“Thank you,” The man says as he stands up, stretching a bit before walking over to the little coffee table that you set the food on. “How much was it?” He says, his jaw slack a little, looking at how much you got. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow-” “-after we win this case,” You finish for Him, smiling while taking a cup of coffee from the plastic holder and taking a stride to your desk.

Nanami watched you, completely infatuated with your confidence. You were sure of yourself—not like Gojo—you’re the kind of sure that made 100% of his heart know that you two were going to win. He smiled at you, watching you furrow your brows as you quickly went back to work. He grabbed his coffee, and walked to your desk.

“May I see what notes you have?” He says, as a strong arm with a rolled up sleeve pulls a chair next to you.

He was going to be the death of you.

You were practically bouncing off the walls, Nanami almost struggling to keep up with you.

“I told you, didnt I? that we’d win?” You exclaim, cheekily stepping out of the courtroom. The other attorney—Hiromi Higuruma— walked out afterwards, with a long face and a deep sigh. He walked over to you, shook your hand, and then walked away, running his hands over his face. He looked like he was fucked, Nanami thought as he walked towards you after you shook Higuruma’s hand.

“I kinda feel bad…” You say, frowning. “His eyebags are at his chin. i’ve never seen someone with such sunken eyes before, either..” You cross your arms over your suit jacket, tapping your foot.

“Would you rather that have been us?” He looked down at you, both of his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a suit—like always, but he usually doesn’t wear the jacket, and now that he is, you kind of wish he did. Made him look sexier.

“No…i’m just saying,” You sigh, as you shrug. You sneakily smirked at him as you remembered one thing from last night.

“You still taking me out to pay me back?”

“I cant beleive of all places I couldve taken you, you asked to go to a club.” Nanami says, as he scoots a stool out for you, letting you sit. Ever the gentleman.

After making sure you were seated, he pulled out a chair for himself and sat down. “I mean, where else were you going to take me?” You retort, before you ask the bartender to give you the strongest fruity drink they have.

“I dont know… Maybe a nicer place.” He looks around at his surroundings, making sure that everything seemed okay to relax. After he calls over the bartender and orders an old-fashioned whiskey, he takes the jacket off, and It totally suits him.

“Like, a nicer place that serves steak or..?” You take a sip of the drink, and feel a wave of colors wash over your vision, and the taste of pineapples lingers on your tongue.

“A nicer place with a stricter dresscode,” He grumbles, as he catches a glimpse of a woman who’s top looks like a bra and a thong so high that he can feel the wedgie. You turn around to see where he was looking at with such disgust and start giggling. You order another one of those drinks, fully intending to get your money’s worth from Nanami. You take another long sip, as He finishes his whiskey, ordering another.

“Well, maybe next time, we can go somewhere fancier,” You say, shrugging happily as you order a third drink. Everything starts to look pretty and all the colors feel so nice around you. You down that one in a single sip and your body starts to rock back and forth.

Almost instinctively, Nanami gets up and holds your body upwards, afraid of you falling. He keeps a hand on your back and a hand on your stomach as he holds you. He looks at you with worry littered all over his face, and you take a glance upward at him.

“…you look so pretty like this, Nanami.” You say, a cheesy smile on your face. His eyes widened and his cheeks reddened, but he ignored the statement.

“Are you alright? I think you should stop drinking. Come, let me take you home,” He mumbled, as he used his hand to call over the bartender to pay for the drinks. His voice had a certain emotion to it—it was almost romantic, the way he cared for you. He turned his back for a second to get his coat, and slung it over his arms.

He held your hand as he guided you out of the club, calling a taxi over. Even when you two were waiting, he rubbed his hand on your back. As a taxi pulled up, he opened the door and let you get in first, then slid in.

He tells the driver your address, and then his. While you wonder why he knows it, you really don’t mind. You snuggle into his chest, smelling his woodsy cologne, and he doesn’t stop you.

“You must be so tired…” He says, as he strokes your hair. He adjusted his body a little so you could comfortably rest on him, although he was uncomfortable himself.

“You’re so comfortable…I always wonder why a man like you is single.” You mutter, letting your head comfortably rest on him as you fall asleep.

He sighs, and looks down at you.

“I wonder, too.”

[lolahaurisfw]

: ̗̀➛ Sebastian: Fluff Alphabet

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

He loves that you accept him for who he is. You respect his work, his social boundaries, and you don't try to change him or force him out of his comfort zone.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Hips and waist! Thick or thin, he just loves holding onto yours hips, or putting his arms around your waist. 

Hugs from behind >>>

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Big spooning you, he loves to hold you like a teddy bear :)

Also loves it when you lay your head on his chest and hold him, or just fully lay on top of him. The pressure is calming.

The best cuddles are when it’s raining. He may love going out in the rain, but he loves cuddling in bed and listening to it hit the window more.

So he’d beg you to take the day off and be lazy with him, probably trying to persuade you with a cup of coco and your favorite sitcom.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Dancing in the rain with you… omg

Imagine meeting him in the Cindersap forest on a stormy morning.

He pulls you under a patch of trees, distant enough that the rain is still hitting you, but close enough that you aren't getting completely soaked.

He looks (down/up) at you, locking eyes and smiling, his cheeks getting a little pink.

He wraps an arm around your waist and brings your hand into an embrace with his free one. Lacing your fingers together at shoulder level, doing a classic ballroom dance.

You both spend some time just spinning around in the soaked grass, laughing and kissing each other like nothing in the world has ever existed besides the two of you. <3

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Very pessimistic and emotionally reserved at first. He'd let you know if he was upset and why, but he wouldn't really bother trying to talk it out or find a solution.

But the more serious your relationship became, he was willing to open up to you more, see things on the bright side sometimes, let you help him and be his shoulder to cry on.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

I don't think he would, he'd rather focus on you.

And some occasional traveling.

Kids are stressful and cause a lot of anxiety, not something he'd ever find appealing.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Not his strong suit, or preferred love language, but he’s fine with it.

He’s a minimalist decorator, so for receiving gifts, i think he’d prefer food or items that don’t take a lot of space/have a good use.

Like clothes, video games, nail polish, eyeliner, decorations for his frog vivarium, etc...

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Holding your hand under the pillow while he big-spoons you! >>

He's more of a full on cuddler than just a hand-holder. But yeah, he loves to lace your fingers together while lying in bed.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Inside he's freaking out BAD and already feeling sick.

But on the outside, he tries to stay normal and calm so he doesn't worry you.

If you're really badly injured, he'll pick you up right away and bring you to Harvey.

Sits by the hospital bed the entire time and holds your hand. <3

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Def not a prankster, I feel like Abi and Sam are the prankster types, so he's grown to be very annoyed with it lol.

He has a more sarcastic, quick wit sense of humor.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Neck kisses!! He thinks they're really hot, and likes seeing you get flustered by them.

Cheek and lip kisses tie for second. Cute n sweet.

Bunny kisses!!! omg!

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Quality time and acts of service.

Quality time may not sound right because he always talks about how he likes a lot of alone time. But that's exactly why I think it is one of his major love languages.

You two have a deep, special, unique connection. And that translates to him actually wanting to spend lots of time with you, unlike his friends and family.

And acts of service just because it feels like the opposite of words of affirmation (showing vs telling).

And since he's def not much of a talker, he likes to tell you he loves you with actions.

Like: feeding the pets, cleaning up around the house & farm while your gone, grocery shopping or cooking when you're too busy, etc...

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The night you met him on the dock while it was raining.

It's an uneventful memory, but it was the day his feelings for you were solidified.

He loves looking back on how intimate the moment was, just talking and joking and getting to know each other more.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Waking up to divorce papers on the table...

I think it would (obviously) completely destroy him, make him lose any hope on love, leaving the valley, moving from his family...

The last thing he'd ever want to do is to go back to being a depressed introvert who lives in his mothers basement.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

His frog obsession, ofc. 

Totally rambles about frogs and general amphibian facts.

Super cute though.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Babe, baby, beautiful, ducky, bunny. 

Tadpole (tell me i’m wrong).

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Sitting in his lap while he works! >>

Being lazy around the house and just cuddling n talking to each other.

He LOVES listening to you talk.

His favorite thing though: rides out of town on his motorcycle. Maybe having a picnic on the cliff once you get there!

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Молчат Дома - Клетка

Cigarettes After Sex - Apocalypse 

Cage The Elephant - Come A Little Closer

Galaxie 500 - Strange

Heavy on Молчат Дома tho. If he were 18-25 in the 2020's, he'd soo be a Russian doomer music enjoyer.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Completely open, I don't think he'd really have any secrets anyway?

He trusts you completely.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

That completely depends on you. He would genuinely be too nervous to ever tell you if he had a crush on you.

He’d drop hints, and you could probably easily tell by his body language and attitude change when you’re around, but he’d never be too bold or say it outright just incase you didn’t like him. 

Kinda unrelated but your dynamic would def be “you fell first, he fell harder.”

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

A little awkward at first, but he tries his best. He gets better at knowing how to comfort you the longer you’re together. 

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

His programming talents! He loves telling you about it.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

He's a little nervous about you going in the mines and fighting, but he trusts that you know what you're doing.

He probably wouldn't fight with you though. (unless it was to save you ofc)

He just doesn't have it in him to kill something.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Actually very well.

Since he's more a listener and observer, he's obviously picked up quickly on how to read you.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Absolutely takes you to the cliff where you shared your first kiss.

Takes you completely by surprise too, drops exactly 0 hints beforehand that he was about to propose.

Definitely cries when you say yes ahhhh!!

Picks you up and spins you around while kissing you all over.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Night walks, watching his frogs in their vivarium, running errands in the morning, a cigarette after a stressful day, Friday nights at the saloon with Sam & Abi, listening to the radio while he works, sitting alone at the end of the dock, motorcycle rides, daydreaming before bed, morning showers with you, cuddling while a record or tv show plays in the background.

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter four

soaked shy smith

❝'Cause, baby, you get me so

So soaked

This heat is gettin' to me

I want you all over me❞

previous chapter next chapter

After the advice that Keiji had given you, you backed off from the mean streak towards Kenma. You'd given it more thought and honestly hated how you would always act to him because of the way he treated you.

Plus, Akaashi seemed like a very nice guy who wouldn't lie to you.

As a truce, you had picked up Kenma's favorite coffee, remembering the order from heart at this point. Your class had unexpectedly ended early, and you felt like a saint, so why not? Maybe it was the month or the feeling of fall in the air, but you were feeling rather forgiving of Kenma and his past actions towards you.

Texting Kuroo you had asked if he wanted a little sweet treat too, to which he declined because he was hanging out with Bokuto this evening for some 'bro time' as he called it.

You sent back a thumbs and smiley face before ordering your own drink.

Not thinking much of you and Kenma being at the apartment alone, you hummed as you enjoyed the crisp air hitting your face when you walked home. You loved being able to walk everywhere because you get to experience the season in real time, and it saved you gas money.

Feeling much better towards Kenma, you felt like you could actually try again to be friends with him. The coffee sloshed in their brown cups as you unlocked the door. You hurried to take your shoes off by the door and set the coffee holder on the counter.

You had been sure Kenma was unquestionably home because his shoes were by the shoe rack when you entered the apartment. You'd be a good roommate to Kenma and go tell him that you got a sweet treat just for the fun of it.

No lamps or lights were turned on in the apartment, only the afternoon daylight streaming through the opened curtains in the living room and kitchen. Walking up the stairs to his room, you could only hope that he wouldn't be an asshole to you.

You stopped once you heard a strange noise, like a gargled cry or something of the sort. You paused, listening harder, hearing your own breathing and heartbeat, and you had heard it again.

Your brows furrowed together, what in the hell was going on in Kenma's room? You walked a few steps closer; his door was shut so you pressed your ear against the cold wood.

"F-Fuck," A groan came from inside the room. Your face flushed red so fast in realization of what was occurring just behind this door you were pressed against.

Kenma was masturbating.

You felt like you were protruding on something extremely intimate and wanted to leave but couldn't bring yourself to. You were indefinitely frozen there. The noises he made were so exotic and foreign to you, you had to have self-restraint to not whimper in need.

"God, uhg, you make me feel so... s-so good," Kenma moaned out, loudly at that, which sent a throb down to your core. He had no trouble being loud under the false promise that he was home alone.

Was he masturbating to the thought of someone? It made you breathe in deep as you fluttered your eyes, lost in a trance with the thought of him.

You never would have guessed that you would be here, outside of Kenma's door, trying to resist the temptation to touch yourself to the sensual moans and groans he let out.

A dirty thought overtook and soon you realized you were very slowly turning the knob to his door open. If you went slow enough and quiet enough, you would be able to catch a peek. God, you just needed to see how lewd his provoking face looked during this moment.

'Only one', you mentally cursed yourself.

You just had to see him, clenching your thighs together as he, luckily, didn't realize that his door had just opened the slightest bit. You gulped, peeking in on the seductive sight that laid before you.

Kenma was in the middle of his king-sized bed, the silky blood-red sheets making him look more mesmerizing. His head was thrown back against the pillows, his right hand pumping his red tipped cock, that was dripping with pre-cum, in careful motions. Whilst his left hand was holding something over his nose, his eyes were scrunched closed in pleasure.

You realized it was your panties that you swore the washing machine had eaten, not that you told Kuroo or Kenma that they went missing.

Your jaw slightly dropped, face beat red, heart beating extremely louder and a hand itching to touch yourself to the sight of him.

Kenma's black, ripped pants were pulled down to mid thigh. Had he gone somewhere? His outfit seems rather nice than what you've been used to seeing lately. His shirt was pulled up just above his mid stomach, which graciously shown his fucking hot abdomen.

His hand motions slightly went a bit faster, the black rings on his left hand burned into your mind, how they were clutching your panties.

And God, wasn't his cock a sight to see. You hadn't expected Kenma to be so big, not just size but girth too. His hand had almost not been able to hold the damned thing all the way around. You could see a vein running down it on the underside of it, you licked your lips.

You felt so fucking needy because of him, no thought going through your head rationally right now. You just knew that you couldn't help how soaked you got because of the sight.

Your name was murmured by him, followed by a string of curses. You could fall right now if you weren't holding onto the doorframe with a death grip, your knuckles white. You couldn't believe it. Forcing yourself to hold in the whine you had desperately wanted to let out.

The slicked sounds of him masturbating to the thought of you and your panties made you lightheaded and filled with need. You had half a mind to start touching yourself right now because of him.

Kenma's chest started heaving more and his cock stood up taller, getting ready for a release. You were captivated by the estranged sight. You've had your fair share of unsolicited dick pictures from when you were in high school but those paled in comparison to him.

He let out a cry, as you watched the liquid spurt out of his cock, it was red and leaking. He clenched his hand over the burning red tip and whined more with a moan of your name on his lips. His low groans were forever imprinted into your head as you got alarmed and quickly, but quietly, shut his door.

You gulped and tip-toed down the steps, trying to be as quiet as possible. He still didn't even know that you were home. You retraced your steps and opened the front door, quickly slamming it a bit so it could be heard from up the stairs.

You continued to make noise, placing your jacking loudly on the hook, throwing your shoes, the whole nine yards. You hoped your face had calmed down from how red you could feel it was earlier.

After a few moments, you decided that you were heard and took his coffee in your hand, which couldn't help but to shake at the thought of seeing Kenma.

You knocked on his door, loudly too. You could hear a small curse and some shuffling on the other side of the door.

When it opened, you saw Kenma in all his glory, a fleeting drunken expression he wore just moments before almost gone, hair a bit messy, and cheeks tinted red.

"I got you a drink, Kenma. I figured that you may have wanted one since you haven't gone with Kuroo and I to the cafe in a while." You looked everywhere but his face. You hoped that he hadn't had a clue of what you had witnessed just moments before.

"Don't you have class today?" He questioned; his brows furrowed a bit at the look of you.

"Uh, yeah. It ended early though," You were still holding the cold coffee in your hand. "Are you going to take it or what?" You didn't know how else to say it. Naturally falling into the rude pattern that he had made you accustomed to.

"Is it even the right kind?" He scoffed, jerking it from your hand – with the hand he had been stroking his cock to moments before. You could feel your face slightly starting to burn.

"Yes," you said breathily, hoping he didn't catch onto it.

"You're welcome by the way." Trying to make your voice a little firmer, a little meaner.

"Thanks," He gazed at your face, the tension rising. You hoped he couldn't sense the nervousness in your body language – he could though, so it was redundant.

You turned sharply and made a beeline to your room, shutting the door behind you and locking it. Finally, you could breathe right.

What you hadn't known was that Kenma was breathless too, not because of what he just did but because of you. Seeing you right after he had just finished, made him get hard again. This time, he couldn't do a repeat of what just happened, opting to get into a cold shower instead.

You hadn't noticed the way he stared at you while you were talking to him, his eyes dilating more in your presence. He didn't know how to actually talk to you, being rude and trying to convince you that he hated you was his best option.

Kenma wanted you and he needed to know if you felt the same unbearable want for him too. With that last thought, he turned away and closed the bathroom door.

You, on the other hand, were completely and utterly speechless. You didn't know how you could ever get him a 'friendly' coffee anymore, speak to him, sit behind him in class or even see him on your way out the apartment.

Plopping on your bed, face down, you let out a silent scream and doubted yourself. Was the coffee even 'friendly' anymore? Were you actually just pining for Kenma because you secretly liked how mean he was?

You couldn't bear the sound of these atrocious thoughts in your head, opting to turn on your favorite cartoon and force yourself to sleep. You definitely were not leaving your room until Kuroo, Akaashi, or hell even Bokuto came and dragged you out of here.

. . .

Four of the past seven nights you have not even gotten a wink of sleep, and you couldn't help but to blame Kenma. He was the devil to you, his plan to kill you with sleep was working devilishly.

The last three days you survived off of energy drinks mixed with coffee and little twenty-minute power naps that your mind graced you when it wasn't thinking of Kenma stroking his cock, an image you couldn't get out of your head.

Finding things to distract yourself with have been hard and even more increasingly harder to not spill to Akaashi who you've been spending all your week with.

Whether it be a spa day he took you on when he noticed the bags under your eyes or invited you to an art museum showcase just because he happened to have an extra ticket, or maybe when he had given you homemade muffins when you complained that you hadn't eaten that morning.

Keiji Akaashi has been a blessing to be friends with but a curse to not spill what you saw of Kenma to. You were absolutely embarrassed to see anything; you get so bothered by it and there's always a feeling of need in your core.

"Have you been okay recently?" A small and quick question that didn't seem too big but when spoken aloud by Keiji, in the way that he said it almost made you even wonder if you were okay.

Of course, you were mentally fucked in the head for constantly dreaming about getting rammed by Kenma, a secret you'll take to your grave, but you'd never tell him.

"Uh, yeah, why do you ask?" You peered over, trying to pretend that you weren't fucking quaking in your boots, hoping to not give off an answer.

"Just a hunch," He replied, leaving it at that. However, you couldn't stop feeling his slitted eyes on you when you weren't looking at him. It was almost enough to make you confess, almost.

"Well... Kenma has been a lot more not mean." You randomly said, after typing a quick short sentence to answer an email. You both were in the library doing a study session since Kuroo was an upperclassman, he had less work to do, and Kenma was well... Kenma.

"Hm? So, my advice worked for you?" Keiji asked like he was even surprised it worked, which piqued your interest. Now, Keiji Akaashi seemed very articulate and careful in his steps so you could only strongly assume that something was up.

"Yeah, granted we've hardly talked but he hasn't left his room when I come home or doesn't scoff when I pass by." You mention, thinking back to recent events between the two of you. That was all true, it was awkward but true.

Being in the apartment with Kenma alone sparked something in you, which was dangerous. Being alone in an apartment with Kenma who, to you, seemingly has experience, is older, and also is intensely hot feels perilous for you.

"Well, that's good. I was afraid you were losing sleep on something so simple as Kenma." Keiji chuckled at his comment, he said that with a purpose, he wanted to see how you felt because he had intuitively known you were lying.

You forced a laugh, eyes widening for a moment, "No, I would never. Just this course work is difficult for me." You avoided eye contact and hoped that it wouldn't make you seem even more guilty than you already were.

"Ah, I must've forgotten. It's date night with Kou, I'll be leaving now. I'll see you soon, Y/n." Keiji said, peering down at his lit-up phone screen. You silently pleaded for him to stay only because you're not actually doing work. You're just avoiding going home because you knew for a fact that Kenma was there. He's always there.

The walk back home was penetratingly cold, and it wasn't only the breeze that made chills run down your spine either.

You'd have to be stuck with Kenma, with the longing stares you couldn't decipher from him, the hitches of his breath when you accidentally bump into each other, and the random morning tea he's made you.

It was all becoming too much for you.

You are even worried that being like this will ruin whatever kindness he's been bestowing upon you. He didn't know that you knew, and you damn sure hoped he didn't know about you trying to pleasure yourself to the sweet sounds he made that day.

Not having any experience sucks, especially in times like this. Porn always seemed weird and disgusting, you never had privacy living with your parents to actually try and have alone time, and the best thing you knew was the shower head.

You were hesitant on that last option because, well, you weren't sure if the walls were as hollow as you think they are.

Unlocking the apartment door, you definitely made sure to make it known that you were home this go around. You could hear Kenma in his room, only due the fact that the noises were from a game, you guessed that he was most likely streaming it too.

You snuck quietly into your room and finally was able to breathe a sigh of relief. What a week.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you’d like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart

a/n: i hope you enjoyed, and the idea for this entire smau came from @deftrow !! i made the banner

[georgiapeach30513]

Just Like the Caged Bird, Part 10

Summary: Andy gets jealous

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  Explicit language, explicit sexual content, sex in a work place, oral sex (F receiving), getting caught, obsession, possession, breeding kink, manipulations, depictions of grief, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Andy sighs, removing his fingers from the keyboard. Normally he would have his office door closed, hoping to keep people from bothering him. But not on days that you worked. You are the best kind of distraction. He has to keep twisting his head to look out his door to see you on the phone, or making copies for him.

You brightened up the office whether you realized it or not. Even when you got overwhelmed or confused, and needed to ask him something. And the joy that spreads across your face when he helps you figure something out. You caught up to things quickly, and he wished you didn’t. It would mean more time with him.

You had a need to please him, and you did. Every bit of movement you did felt like it was just for him. And now he gets to see you in pencil skirts, heels, button up blouses, dresses — this is his favorite fantasy. Even when he shouldn’t have been looking at you, he knew you would grow up into the woman you are. And now you were his and he could look at you whenever he damn well pleased.

There were some minor setbacks to get you to him, and he is sorry that his brother had to pass in order for him to have you. What he isn’t sorry for is the fact that he knew you were always his. Jake was always a place holder, but he hated the fact that he had you first. However, you were now slowly coming around, and so reactive to him.

It is incredible to see you listen and obey. The way you longed for his touch, and melted into him. You deserved to be spoiled in ways that no one ever has. Men were always leaving you. Your father was off into oblivion. Your brothers were always leaving for something or other. Jake decided the army was more important than spending time with his wife, and what did it cause him? He hates thinking about his brother like that, but Andy has no intentions of leaving you.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t hear your heels clicking towards his office. Placing a hand on the doorframe, you lean into his office with the most beautiful smile. “It’s a bit slow today,” you start talking. Your nickname of Songbird makes even more sense with how melodic you sound.

“You can’t leave for the day.”

“I didn’t want to,” he watches as your hand rubs up and down the door frame, your smile getting larger. “I was wondering if you’d like me to go get us some coffee.”

“There’s a coffee machine in the break room,” he gives you a little smirk, already deciding that yes, he was going to let you go get some coffee. You said ‘us’.

”Yes, but that’s just boring K Cups. Wouldn’t you like a latte? Maybe a shaken espresso?”

“Would that make you happy, sweetheart?” He swears, and you could break his heart from your wide grin. Nodding your head in excitement. You stand up straight in the door, and he gets to see your entire body on display. Your outfit is perfect for him. Hugging every curve of your body. Work got both harder and better because of you. “Fine, surprise me. Nothing too sweet, and no vanilla. Here, let me get you my card.”

“Andy! I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Then come sit in my lap, and give me a kiss. You’ll have paid me in full,” you may give him a coy smile, shaking your head, but you close the door to go sit on his lap. He grabs ahold of your hips starting a slow grind on him. “I don’t think you realize how much I have wanted you.”

“I have an idea,” you whisper, leaning into his neck. Your dangerous game starts early today. Panting on his neck, while you whisper his name. He plays his games, too. Edging himself so when he does get you he goes harder and deeper than you thought possible. Knowing that even though his cock is hardening under your ass that he won’t act on his primal need to have you.

“Have you thought about my suggestion,” you whimper onto his neck. Pressing open mouth kisses behind the shell of his ear, and he moves you harder. “Don’t change the subject. I took your temp this morning. You’re not ovulating.”

“I don’t know if that works,” answering honestly. Why did he always want to talk about things of this nature while you’re distracted? It’s like you couldn’t fully concentrate on either one, and you would just go with whatever he decided.

“It’s worked for enough people. It’ll work on you,” his words are a bit hard as he thrusts up. Pushing your front onto his desk, and he gets to his knees. Rucking up your skirt. His calloused fingers hook under the expensive thong he had bought you, moving it aside. He buries his face in your wet heat. Tongue lapping up your juices.

Andy begins to kitten lick your clit. Giving the little nub a nip before he paints butterflies on your core with every stroke of his tongue. Fucking your cunt with his thick muscle, and then back to sucking your clit. Back and forth. Pleasuring and stopping. Confusing your body until you're pushing yourself onto his tongue while he kneels behind you.

Fingers gripping onto the edge of the desk, and you search for that release. Using his face and tongue for your enjoyment. Can feel his devilish smirk on your center. You mewl out in pleasure when you glance behind you. Seeing him burrow so deep into your folds you feel like you’re about to explode.

“Mr. Barber?” You push him off you so fast, collapsing onto the floor in front of him, hiding from his partner’s secretary, and Andy stands up. Straightening his tie. Using his hand to wipe off your juices from his face, he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I’ll knock next time.”

”Janice? This — she’s my girlfriend.”

”I didn’t ask,” the older woman walks out of his office, and Andy looks down at you with a smirk.

He places his thumb along your bottom lip. Rubbing the smooth skin back and forth before pushing it into your mouth, and you suckle the appendage. Staring up at him with wide eyes. “Your cunt’s showing,” you try to shrug away from his thumb so you can right your skirt. “Uh uh. I like the view. Looking all innocent and vulnerable all because someone saw me feasting on that pretty little pussy. It’s new for me, too.”

“But you’re the man,” you mumble of his thumb before he pulls it out of your mouth. Reaching a hand down to you, and you take it. You stand up, and pull down your skirt. “I don’t want people to think I got this job because we’re sleeping together. I don’t want the news here to be that you’re fucking your office manager. You want to be the DA.”

”I’m fucking my girlfriend. I have you here to spend more time with you because I have a busy schedule. And anytime you and I are behind closed doors, how about we make sure to lock it? They see you arrive with me, and leave with me. Honey, what do you think they thought you were? You’re not some bimbo that I use as a fleshlight. Now, here’s my card. Go buy us some coffee. No vanilla.”

“Caramel?” Your mouth turns up in a sheepish grin. With the sun shining through the window, Andy’s hair looks a bit darker. Too often you get glimpses of what your sunshine boy would look like if he was allowed to get older. You decided to quit denying that part of your attraction to Andy is his resemblance to Jake. Was it wrong? Possibly. But it was your life and your conflicting thoughts.

“Sweetheart, surprise me. No vanilla though,” you grab onto his card, and turn away to get a cute little love tap on your ass. Having to stop yourself when you turn around because that was Jake’s favorite move. And the feeling is too familiar, and you wish it was Jake instead.

Andy’s head lifts up when he hears your giggle. His smile spreads out wide across his face, faltering just a bit when he sees you on the phone animatedly talking to someone as you balance the two coffees in your arms. Pushing into the building. He is almost worried until you give him your warm smile. But it doesn’t stop him from wondering just who you’re talking to.

Bringing him his drink, you give him a quick peck just beside his lips before turning back towards the front, “Yeah, I’ll be home tonight,” he stops his drinking as his steady eyes follow you. Practically glaring as you sit down at your desk. “Okay, but last time you got to choose the movie.”

Fucking Bucky Barnes. Or his little brother. Either way you casually said you were going home tonight. Which was the plan, but you said it so happily. Like you are ready to leave Andy. And all he could think about is the next time that you were going to be with him. Jealousy isn’t the word. He’s angry. His house should be your home, and not some temporary apartment.

You are flirting with Bucky or Steve right in front of him. How could you casually forget all the ways he made you feel? He was just feasting on your juices. He wondered if Bucky knew just how you crumbled before him? What pretty little sounds you made when he filled you up with pleasure, and it was time he filled you up with him.

“Let me ask him. Hold on,” Andy is lost in all the ways he wants to feel himself inside of you, and have Bucky know who you belonged to. Steve knew who you always belonged to, and it was him. “Andy?”

He knew what he had to do. Bucky is getting in the way of what Andy deserved. He waited too long for you. He was patient. Waited on you to be legal and then watched in agony as you fell for Jensen. It was his turn now, and this was the endgame. There is no other option but you and him.

“Andy?”

“Hmm?” He looks up from his hands, staring blankly at you. Still on the damn phone.

“To save time Bucky said he can come pick me up after work.”

“It’s okay,” that is the wrong thing to say as you scrunch up your nose. “I don’t mind driving you back to the apartment,” clear words. That place isn’t your home. He is. “It just means more time with you. And I thought you were going to make me food?”

“You said you had a lot to do with your case. Bucky is just trying to help you out,” of course he is. Bucky is just trying to get in the middle of the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. You rest the phone on your shoulder, giving him a sweet smile, “Remember what I told you I was going to do when we are apart?”

Pictures and video calls would never be the same. It isn’t enough. Only you were enough. But he is beginning to notice when he pushes you too hard the harder you pull away. He’s going to give you this moment even though everything inside him is screaming to wrap you up in his warmth. “I look forward to every part of you,” he answers vaguely. “Fine, tell Bucky he can pick you up.”

“And we're just ordering pizza. You need to stop procrastinating with your work, too. I’m a bad influence,” well that sounds like you didn’t even want him there with you. You need alone time with Bucky. “But if you want to join us, what’s your favorite kind of pizza?”

“Pepperoni and Italian sausage, but you’re right,” you are, but he didn’t didn’t like Bucky. One of these days you would be living completely with Andy, so he supposed it didn’t matter now. But Bucky had to go. You didn’t need guy friends. You should just want Andy. “What are you going to do?”

“I keep telling Bucky we need to watch Neverending Story, but he’s suggesting Hellraiser.”

“Your choice is better,” his choice sounds like a great way to have you clinging to him while you are alone. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. There is a reason that guy liked to watch horror movies. Childish. Neverending Story is safe. It isn’t scary.

“I knew it! Thanks, Andy. He’ll be here around quitting time to pick me up,” and Andy would make sure that Bucky knew exactly how affected you are by him. It isn’t much but it would have to do. You’d just have to learn that if you were going to that dumb apartment, he would leave a mark. Or a few.

Andy takes a quick look at his watch, noting the time and how it is almost time for Bucky to collect you. If he is going to have to be away from you then he’d make sure you kept a part of him, and also felt him the entire time you were away from him. He could already feel your supple skin under his fingers. It’s a feeling he would never grow tire of.

He says your name, and like the sweet and shy girl you are, you stand up quickly and saunter into his office, “Lock the door,” his voice is so low and deep you almost don’t hear it. His intentions are clear in what he wants, so you do as you're told, but hesitate locking the door.

“Bucky will be here soon.”

“I know. And you’re talking is delaying our time. Better hurry, my beautiful sweet, Songbird,” your eyes flutter shut as you lock the door, and slowly glide towards Andy. He holds up a hand for you, pulling you closer to the chair he’s sitting on. Bending over, his mouth presses right into the sensitive shell of your ear, and his thumb rubs over your hand.

You feel yourself going into that space. Completely trusting and full of lust, “I need to get you a car. We’ll do that next weekend.”

“Too soon,” is all you manage to get out as Andy stands, towering over you. His thumb is still tracing circles on you as he pushes you back onto the desk. Dropping your hand to ruck up your skirt. Yanking down your panties so fast, and he stuffs them in his pocket, “Andy.”

“If you’re going to be away from me, I need to remember you. And you’re going to remember me,” stretching out his fingers, he lays his hand flat on your belly. Rubbing over your soft skin before dipping lower. He creates gentle circles on your clit with his thumb, his fingers remaining splayed out on your belly. He bends over your spread body, and you’re forced to keep your legs wide to accommodate his body as he grinds into you.

“You and I are the real deal. And you were worth the wait. I’ll continue to wait on you and the right timing for you. But you said you didn’t want birth control. Do you trust me?” His free hand grabs yours, and he begins to paint circles with his thumb. That motion that relaxes you, and makes your thoughts immediately go to your husband. The current situation mixes with your favorite memories. Andy’s slacks create a delicious friction on your core. And you move back to him for a now.

Your eyes are a black pool of lust. Pupils blown out wide and letting him know the animalistic pull you have for him. You want a home and a family. You want to trust him. You want a simple life. You want to scream and run. You want to be held tightly and have someone tell you everything okay. You want someone to tell you that your feelings are valid. And you’re so fucking scared. Scared to lose. Scared to be alone. Scared of disappointing anyone. And that’s all you have been doing. You want to trust, and there’s a tiny piece that doesn’t.

“Songbird, you look so beautiful like this,” he whispers into your ear, kissing that spot just behind it, and he starts undoing his pants. “I need you so much right now. Trust me. Please.”

An engrained feeling spurts up your throat and you nod your head, “I trust you,” you choke out. Immediately you feel his silky steel rod crash into your warmth without warning. Your back arches up off the desk, and he pounds into you with more force than he ever has before. Implanting himself deep into your core, and demanding that you remember him when he’s not around. “Andy, they’ll hear,” you try to keep your words even and steady, but they’re a pathetic breathy tone.

JJ never pushed into you this hard. It’s a punishing pleasure. You shouldn’t have entertained Andy for this long. Much less this far. And yet, you couldn’t stay away. Your mind and body playing a game of what you want and what you need, and you are tired of fighting.

His hands grip onto your hips so tightly, and his body ruts into you with so much force you see stars. Juices spew out around him, and you dare to peek. Lifting up to see the severe stretch he’s causing you.

Watching as he impales your body. Keeping you full and filled with him. Having to grab onto his arms to brace yourself with each pounding thrust. “I will have every part of you. Every bit, okay?”

“Yes,” you mewl up at him. Your eyes glassed over in pleasure as you feel your tummy heat up. Everything is overwhelming. Andy is intense in more than his motions. Giving a gleeful smile when he hears a door close out front, but all you see is his handsome face. “Andy,” you’re able to bumble out. “Andy.”

It’s just so much. Too much. Flashes of moments when JJ acted like this. Squinting your eyes you see your beautiful sunshine boy. You were supposed to have beautiful babies with that man, and you got dog tags, and his rings. Everything is flying in your mind as you start to lose control. Moments in time blurring with the present.

Wanting the past. Fearing the future. Overwhelmed by the present. What was the right choice? Would he hate you? Does he know that you sometimes saw JJ in him? Did he know how much you missed your husband and what was supposed to be? Did he know you had yours and JJ’s life planned out to perfection and now you’ll never get it with him?

Your fingers dig into his forearms as he races for the finish. Cooing something down to you, but you can’t see. You just see Jake. You feel him. You smell his cologne. You miss him so much, and this moment is transforming, and you can’t stop the words from spewing out. “I want your babies,” you croak out, swallowing deeply before saying his name. Your voice is hardly audible. Andy doesn’t even hear them words that spewed out of your mouth.

“What’s that? What?”

More feelings rushing into your chest as those deep blue eyes look into your soul, “I — I…Andy,” you got his name right, and the words dissipate back into your throat. He isn’t JJ, and you don’t love him like that. You hope you can. And fear that you will.

“I need you to trust me,” he crashes into your one more time. Your walls cling tight to his girth as his warm seed spurts into your belly, and you yelp up at him. “You’re not ovulating,” he says breathlessly. Pressing a hand on your belly again. Nobody had ever had that part of you, and you’re left feeling overwhelmed. The fear never edges away, but only increases as you process what just transpired. “It’s too soon anyways. But I want this with you. I’ve always wanted it with you. Okay?”

You nod your head at him, still unsure of what to feel. “I’ve always wanted you. Even when I shouldn’t,” he pulls himself out of you slowly. Using his fingers to paint your swollen cunt with his spunk. “I just keep seeing moments of us really trying for a family. I need you to want what I want. Be on the same team. I’d give us a good life. You’d never want for anything. I’d get along with your brothers, I would make myself do that for you. Can you,” his fingers stuff themselves inside of you, and you wince. “Do you want that?”

“I don’t know,” his mouth goes flat, and he finally looks up from your center. “Andy this is a lot all at once.”

“He’s never coming back. Don’t chase a ghost.”

“I’m not,” your voice comes out harsh, and you push his fingers away from you. Sitting up on the desk, and you glare at him. “I love him. Still. That is your brother. And you’re clouding my brain with your perfectness, and I’m getting bombarded with — memories, and I can’t decipher what is here and now, and what was then. Just stop. It’s so much. And I can’t…it’s like I can’t breathe.”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” you scoff. Standing up to pull your skirt down. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“Andy, you’re making this much more serious than I’m ready to make it right now. I’m learning to grow and move forward. But…I need some space to not allow him to seep through,” those were the wrong words. But Andy doesn’t get angry, he looks hurt.

“When — who did you see just now? Me or him? Are you envisioning having sex with my baby brother when I’m the one that’s fucking you?”

“Not on purpose.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? I’m giving you every bit of me. Every bit that I didn’t give Laurie. I never loved her like I do you. I didn’t even want kids with her because they were never going to be yours. And then you tell me that while I have fantasies of you swollen with our first child, and your rings shining in the light that you saw Jake. How do you think that makes me feel? All I have on my mind is you, and…our future.”

Your anger softens a bit as you stare up into his eyes. Trying to figure out what to say, but you can’t think of anything. You shouldn’t have visions of Jake when you had this man inside of you. He has changed his life and wants you to be part of it. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

“I want you to not do it again. It’s like what you feel for me is nothing compared to what I feel for you,” he’s right. And you’re ashamed of yourself. And scared. So so scared. A knock on the door makes you flinch.

“You…finished?” Oh god. It’s Bucky, and you get so embarrassed. Cheeks heating up as you feel Andy trickling out of you. You cover your face with your hands as you wonder how much Bucky heard.

“Yeah,” you call to him, and turn back to Andy, pressing a hand over his heart. “Andy, I’m sorry.”

“Can you not sleep with him then?”

“I don’t,” that’s an odd request. Currently you’ve only had sex with two people, and the second was right in front of you.

“You fall asleep with him. Just for me. Can you just sleep on your own? If you want someone to sleep with I can stay there. I just think…”

“You’re right,” you respond quickly. Wanting to change the subject, and get out of here. The air and tension is too thick, and you feel like you’re drowning. You can’t even get your thoughts working because of it. “I will sleep on my own,” you would try to.

“I’ll walk you out to the car,” his hand presses on the small of your back, and he walks you into the foyer. Smirking and nodding to Bucky. Your roommate looks more at you than at Andy. Silvery blue eyes raking over your features. How long had he even been outside of Andy’s office? “Make sure you take care of my girlfriend, Barnes. Songbird, I look forward to your texts later tonight,” he gives you a wink as he opens the door to the truck, and even buckles you in.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple as Bucky gets into the driver seat.

“Miss you, too,” you respond. Waiting for him to close the door, and your vision goes blurry. Staring out the window blankly when Bucky begins a slow roll to the highway. What just happened? And how did you feel? And why were there always questions?

”Does he follow you in the bathroom, too?” You try to replay the last thirty minutes in your head, still unable to focus on anything. “Peach? You okay?” Andy is much more intense than Jake. Did you even see the thermometer this morning? Andy had always checked before you had fully awakened. What did it read? Did he even tell you?

“You guys got into an argument?”

“Disagreement,” you answer quickly. Too many thoughts in your head. Too many. You weren’t ready. “Is there a drugstore that sells the morning after pill?”

“Did he make you do something you didn’t want to do?” Did he? What a strange question. You remember what you whispered, but was that for JJ’s ghost? Why were you still hanging on to the past? It had been a year, but you were told grief is different for everyone. “Peach?”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head, unable to go to that place. “I just want to be careful. Are there side effects? Will Andy know?”

“You’re scaring me.”

You were scaring yourself. But one thing was for sure, you weren’t ready. “Will he know if I took something?” Your heart is racing as you realize what happened. You weren’t ready to think about kids with anyone but Jake. You feel like Andy was all over you. Like he was leaking out onto the truck seat. “Pull over. Bucky, I’m going to throw up.”

Looking into his mirrors, he pulls the truck over, and you jump out. Hurling your lunch onto the side of the road, and the tears don’t stop. You are so scared. Why? Why is fear the only thing that is oozing throughout your body? It’s all you feel right now. He’d leave you if he found out. Did Jake leave you because you couldn’t have his kids? Why couldn’t you at least have had a part of him with you.

Standing up you look at the sky, screaming out everything inside of you before Bucky pulls you into his arms. He didn’t expect anything in return. He is just there to offer any comfort as the tears block you from seeing anything. “I’m so tired.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. What do you need me to do?”

“I need the morning after pill, but will he know?” With mascara stained cheeks you look up at Bucky hoping for a miracle. Needing a specific answer, and no more questions. The questions had your thoughts racing too fast to sort through. Like driving in the snow and each snowflake is your thoughts. They were coming at you at such a rapid speed you missed things.

“No, he won’t. Come on, order us a pizza, and we’ll get ice cream, too,” you can tell he wants to prod, but thinks better of it, and you’ll be forever grateful to him. You want to take the hottest shower, and remove the traces of Andy. You didn’t hate him, but the feeling of him still there is making you queasy.

“Can we DoorDash it while I shower?” You don’t have to say more, but Bucky understands. Nodding his head is his only answer, and he leads you back to the truck. Clenching his jaw as he wonders just exactly what transpired behind that door. He’s gathered enough. And what he really wants to do is pound in Andy’s face. He cracks his neck trying to make the thoughts go away. They weren’t good for his recovery.

But right now Bucky wants to hit everything. He wants to make someone pay for the mess they made you. And that someone is him. Andy Barber. He’s now become more than an irritation. He’s become an enemy.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @agirlneedsgoals @sgtjaamesbaarnes @cjand10 @rebekahdawkins @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @rainydayprincess @shortstuff16 @slowdownbeforeyouregretit @whimsyplaty92

[bestphoneunder20k]

Comparing 5 Useful Products: K Cup Holder, Makeup Brush Bag, Paper Towel Holder, Business Card Holder, and Stocking Holders

Hey there! We’re excited to dive into a review and comparison of some cool products today. Whether you love your morning cup of coffee, need to organize your makeup brushes, want a convenient paper towel holder, require a sleek business card display, or are looking for adorable Christmas stocking hangers, we’ve got you covered. These products are designed to make your life easier and add a touch…

[magicshopaholic]

Unfinished Business (Jungkook x OC)

Summary: You hate leaving things unfinished - something Jungkook knows a thing or two about.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Fluff, angst (but not the kind you think)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5.4 K

Warnings: language, tattoos and needles, a lot of ambiguity

A/N: Writing for the OG couple after a long while. Highly recommended reading (or re-reading) The Fifth Part 1 and 2, or at least Part 2 for sure. Contains a lot of references to the past. Takes place post-military enlistment, a few months after Honey.

Tagging: @bbl32 @ggukkieland @bangtannoonalvg @pb-n-juju @juciu @jeoncookie-bts @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive @kflixnet (italics cannot be tagged. If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment or ask)

Listen to: "suspicious minds" by elvis presley

jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

It’s only seven am, but Lia’s focus has already been stolen. 

Clutching a cup of hot coffee and dressed in nothing but Jungkook’s t-shirt, she leans against the kitchen doorway of his new apartment, pensively surveying the last remaining boxes that need to be unpacked. They aren’t too big; all the major work was done yesterday, including unwrapping, decorating and cleaning up. The three cartons left in the corner of the living room, one of them marked Fragile, can’t take too much time or effort.

But Lia can’t handle things left unfinished. 

Draining her cup, she places it on the kitchen mantle and retrieves a pair of scissors, getting to work. The first box is living room utilities; a key holder, fridge magnets, a few chargers. She moves them all to their correct locations, trying to make as little noise as possible so as to not wake Jungkook. 

A lot of the heavy lifting yesterday had been done by him; even though he’d seemed to enjoy it, he’d been exhausted by the end of the night. As determined as he’d still been, by the end Lia could tell his energy was declining, especially as his hints to get her to move in with him began becoming less and less subtle.

She’s rummaging through the second box, filled mostly with other knick knacks, when Jungkook emerges from the bedroom, squinting sleepily and pulling on a t-shirt. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, voice thick with sleep. He clears his throat.

“It’s no problem,” she replies absently, glancing up at him. “There’s coffee in the machine.” 

The sound of his feet padding into the kitchen fades away slightly as she continues unpacking. The second box has only the dregs of a bachelor’s past in it, including a remote that seems to belong to nothing and a half-empty box of condoms. Deciding to let Jungkook deal with it, she reaches for the last box just as he joins her on the floor.

“Okay, I don’t know where to place these,” she tells him, gesturing to the carefully bubble-wrapped photo frames. “I mean, I can try, but -” She scans the entertainment unit around the television, noting space for at least eight or ten frames. “This seems like something you should decide.”

“You can, too,” he offers, picking out a frame and unwrapping it. “Half the pictures are of you,” he points out, flashing her a toothy grin.

“They’re with me, not of me,” she corrects him, even as she takes the frame from him and admires the picture. It’s of them seated on the edge of a go-kart, in racing overalls and with breathless grins. “This was a fun day.”

“Yeah. The cars were faster than I expected.” Jungkook is quiet for a moment before placing the picture down and tilting his head towards the box. “How many are there in total? I’m not even sure all of them will fit.”

“Sure they will.” Lia drags the box closer and they begin unwrapping the pictures one by one, the memories making them chuckle occasionally. Despite the fact that a large number of them don’t include her, it’s strangely endearing to view glimpses of Jungkook’s youth, his friends and his success.

“This one should go right in the middle,” he decides, holding up a framed picture of the day he’d taken Lia home to meet his parents for the first time. Jungkook had dragged her to the centre of the group, his parents on either side of them, and his brother behind them right after he’d set the timer on the camera.

“It’s cute,” she agrees, “but shouldn’t you put this one up there, too?” she asks, holding up a picture of him with his group members. “Wasn’t this your first award?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“There’s probably space for both.”

“What about this one, though? This was in Wembley…”

They continue debating between what must be at least fifteen frames, eventually standing up to start arranging them on the shelf. 

“Wait, you want to do them all now?” he asks a bit incredulously, eyes wide.

“It’s not that many, Kook,” she tells him, patting his shoulder encouragingly. “We’ve unpacked everything else - do you really want just one box to lie around in the living room?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Really.”

“Let me say that differently: I don’t mind.”

Lia struggles to suppress a smile at his cheeky response and picks up another handful of frames from the box, moving to the shelf. “You got me. I don’t like loose ends. Now can we do this? Come on, you’ve always said you wanted one of these in your living room,” she reminds him. “You finally have it.”

Jungkook sighs dramatically but joins her, for she’s not wrong, and picks up a picture of himself and Namjoon at the United Nations. “Okay, let’s see…” Filled with concentration, he scours the shelf and finally picks a spot near the top. “There,” he says, carefully placing it at an angle and turning around with a flourish. “Okay, what’s next?”

She chuckles and hands him a picture of BTS on stage, and they get back to work. Eight more carefully arranged pictures later, both of them stand back to admire their handiwork.

Lia nudges his side gently. “It looks good, don’t you think?”

“It does… but I’d imagined a lot more pictures, to be honest.” He looks down at her inquiringly. “We have more, right?”

“At least ten,” she assures him. “Any particular events you want to put up? People or birthdays or anything…?” She rummages through the box and retrieves a few more frames, moving to arrange them on the sofa so they can both look at them.

“This one for sure,” says Jungkook after a moment, pointing at a picture of himself and a couple of his band members. “It was after Coachella - such a fun night. This one, with you in Incheon,” he adds, like it’s obvious. “This one, backstage.”

“Was it a special concert?”

“No, but I think I look good in it,” he admits sheepishly. “Or is that too conceited? You know what, forget I said -”

“I agree, completely,” she interrupts him seriously, swiping the picture up from under his nose and placing it next to a frame of Jungkook with Seokjin. She pauses at the sight of her boyfriend in the first one, looking dapper in a suit at the engagement party she’d attended as his date. In the second, Jungkook’s hair is thick and lush, falling onto his forehead with ease, his face shiny and alight with post-concert adrenaline. “Looks good, no?”

Jungkook grins. “If you insist. What about those?”

Lia takes stock of the remaining. “This one is nice… oh, this one is, too - but it might become repetitive… why do you have so many pictures with Namjoon? Okay, wait - this one, for sure. Oh - and this group picture.” She hands half of them to Jungkook and starts arranging the rest. 

“Perfect.” 

At his proclamation, both of them step back again to survey their progress. “Looks great, babe. We can get rid of the box and finally clear -” She breaks off when she sees a few frames still in the box. “Wait, what about these?”

“No more space.”

Lia frowns. “Huh,” she utters softly, tucking her hair behind her ears and reaching for the pictures. One is of Jungkook and Bang PD, but there’s already another one of them on the shelf, so she lets it go. The second is a slightly unfocused one of him at dinner with a few friends, while the third is the group picture she’d handed to him a couple of minutes ago. 

She holds it up to show him. “You’re not putting this up?” 

“What?” He glances at the picture and shakes his head. “No… it’s really crowded and you can’t see anyone in it. Besides, it’s not even a special event,” he adds.

She looks back down at it. It’s clearly taken at someone’s house - and at a party, judging by the attire. There are definitely a lot of people, but crowded might be a bit of an overstatement. There are about ten or twelve people at most, some sitting on a sofa and the rest standing behind it, almost everyone clutching glasses with varying levels of drink and smiling into the camera.

Even through the motionless image, the air of mild intoxication and friendship and fun is palpable. Almost all the members of BTS are in the picture, but the rest are a mixture of unfamiliar boys and girls, most of whom Lia doesn’t think she’s ever met. Jungkook is towards the side of the sofa, looking younger than she’s ever known him, with his friend Mingyu on one side and a girl on the other, perched on the arm of the couch. 

Lia’s gaze lingers on Jungkook; this picture is pre-military, clearly, before the group went on hiatus to enlist. His eyes are shining, his hair thick and long, the lip ring glinting in the dim light. She spots various members of BTS; Jimin’s infectious smile, Namjoon’s dimple, Taehyung’s arrogantly handsome expression. All the other pictures with the group members on the shelf are at events - tours, shoots, engagements, the White House. This one is the most candid - the only candid one. 

She bites her lip; she knows reuniting for a comeback wasn’t the cakewalk Jungkook tried to pass it off as. From the snippets she’s picked up from him and the way her marketing team at Hybe has been working on it since before she and Jungkook even met, it’s been clear that the members have been approaching it with different states of mind - and it’s no surprise that Jungkook might be struggling with it the most. 

She watches him saunter into the kitchen and duck behind the fridge door. She’d never wanted to push him, especially about a part of his life she didn’t really know, but maybe that wasn’t the right way to go about it.

“Maybe we can fit it next to the one of you and Namjoon at the UN,” she suggests. “There’s space there. Or we can replace the one of you and your boxing instructor?”

“I like that one,” replies Jungkook without looking up, now busy assembling breakfast. “Do you want ham?”

“Sure, thanks,” she says absently. Glancing down at the picture again, she shakes her head slightly. It looks like a still from a movie. “It’s a really nice picture, Kook.”

“They’re all nice pictures, but something or the other would get cut,” he says reasonably. “These three are the least nice ones, I guess.”

“It was nice enough to get framed,” she points out. She knows she’s being persistent but it’s most unlike Jungkook to deliberately exclude a picture with his friends, especially the members of BTS. “Even the colour palette would look great with the rest. I think you should consider it.”

Jungkook sucks a bit of sauce off the tip of his finger. “It’s my shelf,” he says simply.

There’s a line, a line beyond which she’s sure her sweet and patient boyfriend can snap. Lia doesn’t think she’s there yet but a part of her is curious to see how far she can take this - and how concerning the situation is.

“Jungkook,” she begins, her tone gentler than before, “is something wrong? Because I thought everything was starting to go back to normal.”

He pauses before sighing softly. “You’re right,” he says finally, looking up but not quite meeting her eyes. “Everything’s okay now. You should put up that picture.” He gives her a small smile and goes back to the sandwiches.

Lia obliges, but something continues nagging at her. Jungkook is an open book, but this topic feels so out of reach to her that she can’t even begin to know where to start. As their comeback rehearsals and studio sessions have increased in frequency, he’s started to reach home later and later, looking more relieved and happy each time. She wonders if it’s still not enough for him, if something has changed so irreversibly that things aren’t bad - they’re just different.

But there are other things to do today.  

“This might be the coolest thing we’ve done together,” says Jungkook excitedly. He slows the car, searching for a parking spot. When Lia doesn’t answer, he frowns. “You don’t agree?”

She winces. “I don’t think it’s the coolest.”

“Can you name a cooler thing we’ve done?”

“I can name, like, twenty.”

Jungkook huffs. “Do you really not want to do this?” he whines, his shoulders slumping.

“Of course, I do,” she answers immediately, squeezing his arm, her fingers pale against his dark tattoo sleeve. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s really not a big deal, we don’t have to -”

“I know that, Kook,” she interrupts him patiently. “I want to, I promise. I mean, it was kind of my idea,” she adds.

“What?” He glances at her incredulously. “I suggested couple tattoos, like, one month after we started dating.”

“Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best strategy,” she mutters wryly. “But, I meant, the design of the tattoos was my idea.”

“That’s true,” he allows. “And it’s a nice design. Very…” He breathes in dramatically. “Very us. Our core. A lot of history there,” he points out, grinning.

“And the least cheesy design I could think of.” She pinches his cheek as he slides into a parking spot, unable to resist. “Also one where if we break up, mine won’t look strange.”

“Wow, way to ruin it, Lee-lee,” he mutters, scowling as he switches off the car. “That’s it - we’re switching. I’m getting the basketball, you’re getting the basket.”

“What? Absolutely not,” argues Lia as she climbs out of the car. “I’m the one who came up with it; I’m getting the ball.”

“No, now I don’t want the basket. Why can’t you get it?”

“Because it’ll make no sense, an empty basket,” she points out, walking alongside him. “You have enough tattoos that it won’t stand out. Oh, and also - I actually play basketball?”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

“That’s tough, Jeon,” she says shortly, patting him on the shoulder as they climb the stairs to the entrance of the tattoo parlour. “But we’ve already got the sketch and placement and everything done, and we’re sticking to the plan.”

“God, you’re bossy.”

“And you’re bratty,” she retorts, squeezing his shoulders and kissing his left one. “But I love you anyway.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook grins as they enter the reception, trailing slightly behind her. The low hum of the air conditioner takes over from the traffic outside as he follows Lia to the desk, keeping barely an inch of distance between their bodies and leaning over her shoulder. “You mean that?”

“Sure.”

“God, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he mutters, pulling out his wallet for his ID and placing it next to hers, flashing a smile at the receptionist. “Fine, I’ll get the basket.” 

He pinches her waist gently and she gasps in surprise, swatting his hand away. “Good. Because we’ve pushed this appointment enough times and I just want it to be done. I hate that it’s just unfinished and incomplete and just hanging there, waiting for us to get on with it.”

“Huh.” Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “What if the artist isn’t available today?”

“Then I will physically pick up the tattoo gun and draw the tattoos on us.”

“You’d really draw a tattoo on me? You? I mean, I love you,” he quickly backtracks, “but… you?”

“Exactly,” she says as they walk inside together. “So you better hope he’s in today or you’re going to end up having my artwork on your skin forever.”

“Point taken.”

Fortunately for them, not only is the artist available, but he’s prepped and ready to go. Two reclining chairs have been placed next to each other, the tattoo guns are plugged in and kept on the table, sterilised needles still in the packets, and a tray with small bottles of water.

“Ah, my favourite customer is here,” he greets, his lined face lighting up when he sees Jungkook. “And my second favourite customer by association,” he says to Lia, chortling at his own joke as they bow slightly to each other.

“Thank you for making the time,” she says, while Jungkook genially hugs him. 

“Of course, of course. Ah, this is Eunbi,” he remembers, turning slightly and gesturing to a young woman who steps out of the staff room, “my apprentice.”

Eunbi gives them a small smile, smoothing her short blond hair self-consciously. The roots have begun to darken but it gives her a nice, rustic look. 

They get settled after that, Lia and Jungkook on one chair each, while Eunbi and her boss take their seats on revolving stools, sketch pens in hand and tattoo guns on standby.

“It’s a really cute idea,” says Eunbi, carefully drawing the basketball on the inside of Lia’s wrist. “Jungkook oppa, you’re getting the basket?”

“That’s right.” He takes Lia’s free right hand from beside him and squeezes it. “I’m taking one for the team,” he says dramatically.

She rolls her eyes but squeezes his hand back anyway. “You’re the one who wanted couple tattoos. If anything, I’m taking one for the team.”

“Same difference.”

“Why basketball?” The tattoo artist, who Lia realises has yet to mention his name, peers at them from above his dark glasses. “Is it some new meme I’m not aware of?”

“Oh, no, it’s not a meme,” says Jungkook quickly. “We met while playing basketball.”

Eunbi looks up. “Really?”

“Playing is a bit of an overstatement,” says Lia.

“I didn’t know you played basketball,” says the tattoo artist skeptically to Jungkook. “Are you any good?”

“I’m getting better,” he mumbles, while Lia snorts.

“It’s true, he is,” she adds, grinning at Jungkook’s increasingly annoyed expression. “The first time was… not great. But he’s been practising since then.”

“Good on you, kid. You know, I used to play basketball in high school.”

“Really?” Jungkook turns to him excitedly. “Which position? Do you follow the NBA? I’ve started recently…”

Lia bites her lip as she watches him prattle on about his favourite team, about the last match he’d watched. It was one of the most endearing things he’d done: diving into her favourite sport with interest, learning the rules, watching the matches and following the players on social media.

She squeezes his hand absently, also glad that his strange mood from earlier seems to have disappeared. He’s cheery as ever, all the way from flirting his way into her shower, to proclaiming how he was willing to get the basket tattooed to prove how, much like the basketball filled the basket, she filled him with happiness.

Then she’d groaned and cringed while he’d laughed his arse off, turning the volume up in the car and singing along angelically to whatever song was playing.

“Lia.” Jungkook tugs at her hand. “You want to take this one?”

“Huh?” She turns apologetically to Eunbi. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“Oh, I - I asked how you two met.”

“Oh.” Lia glances at Jungkook, pursing her lips in amusement. “I think you should probably take this, no?”

He shakes his head and mock-glares at her. “Uh, okay. Well, long story short: we went on a date, I was a bit of a douche, but she decided to give me a second chance anyway.” Despite the humour of the situation, the relief in his voice is audible.

Heart warm, she nods. “He worked pretty damn hard for it.”

Jungkook nods. “Basketballs to the face notwithstanding.”

“Aw, that’s cute. And so are the tattoos,” adds Eunbi. “I wish my boyfriend would agree to one - but he’s terrified of needles.”

“I was terrified of basketballs for a good week there,” notes Jungkook. “But you’ve got to face your fears to overcome them,” he says wisely.

“You’re right. I wish he’d been a douche on our first date,” she jokes, “then I could’ve asked him to get a tattoo for me.”

“He’d have to be a really big douche for that,” says the tattoo artist, before lightly smacking Jungkook on the shoulder and ignoring his gasp. “And why were you a douche, huh?”

“I wasn’t - I didn’t -“

“His friend set him up and he was in a bad mood,” supplies Lia, reaching over and pinching her boyfriend’s cheek as he scowls.

“A really bad mood,” he clarifies. “Because he kept texting during dinner and asking for updates - I could’ve hit him, I swear.”

The tattoo artist responds reproachfully to Jungkook, but Lia barely hears it, for it brings back another memory she doesn’t dwell on too often.

She likes video games.

It’s the only aspect of their history she would rather ignore. Everything else - his apology, his attempts at getting to know her better, riding home on his motorbike in the rain, basketball with Dal - makes her reminisce with fondness, more often than not leading to an increased amount of affection for her boyfriend for the rest of the day. This one part of it, though? Not ideal.

She feels Jungkook clutch her hand tighter then, and she realises his tattoo has begun, the hum of the gun cutting through her thoughts. She squeezes his hand back automatically, endeared and exasperated at his wincing despite hundreds of tattoos, and pushes the unwanted detail of their history aside.

“I love it,” he says later, once they’re almost back at his house. He peels off the plastic from his shoulder a little bit before hissing.

“Don’t take it off yet, come on,” she tells him, pressing it back into place and stroking the reddened area. “It’s still fresh. And it does look great,” she acknowledges, lightly tracing the basket that’s wedged peacefully between two bigger tattoos on his tricep. “Do you think the fans will notice a new tattoo?”

“Doubt it. Or maybe they will,” he says after a moment. “You never know. They won’t be able to tell it’s about you, though,” he assures her.

“I’m sure,” she agrees, observing her own basketball tattoo. It hurt more than she expected but somehow, having Jungkook there doing the same thing helped. She won’t admit it to him without some eye-rolling, but she finds herself happy with their decision to get the tattoos after all.

“Do you want to get lunch?” Jungkook asks, unlocking the door and gently steering her in first.

“I’m good with ramen, honestly,” she says, taking off her shoes and padding through the living room. “Could you get a couple packets from the pantry? I’ll put the water on.”

Jungkook nods and disappears, softly humming a tune. Lia glances at the entertainment unit, his Playstation and neatly stacked DVDs, mildly satisfied that after an entire weekend’s worth of work, his apartment is properly set up.

Her gaze falls on the pictures, scanning Jungkook’s handsome face in each, before landing on the same group picture they’d argued about this morning.

And something falls into place.

“Got it!” When Jungkook returns a few minutes later, arms laden with no less than four packets of ramen, it’s to see Lia standing in the middle of the carpet, one of the photo frames in her hands. Even from here, he can tell exactly which picture it is.

She doesn’t look up at his entrance, and he takes the opportunity to dump the ramen on the kitchen island and slowly approach her. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Lia seems to tear her eyes from the picture to meet his eyes. To his relief, she doesn’t look angry or hurt. She simply looks curious - and confused. “This is - this is her.”

Jungkook bites his lip. “What are you talking about?”

She turns the picture towards him. “The girl you had a crush on. Back then.” She deliberately doesn’t elaborate and for that he is thankful. “This is her,” she says, pointing and tapping her finger on the glass.

It’s barely a question. After a moment, he nods. “Yeah, it is.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise, as though she wasn’t expecting him to admit it so quickly. “And this is clearly the boyfriend,” she mutters as she gazes at the frozen faces, seemingly to herself, not being able to tell how his heart jerks. She looks up at his again, frowning. “Is that why you didn’t want to put this picture up? Because she’s in it, too?”

Jungkook sighs, his shoulders slumping. His gaze briefly falls on the picture, on her face, and he immediately looks away. “It didn’t feel right,” he confesses. “It felt like I would be… I don’t know. Disrespecting you.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor. “Especially if… someday, you decide to…” Here, he trails off, unable to find the nerve to finish his sentence.

“But… why?” Lia still just sounds confused. “She was just a friend, right? And you said it was over.”

“She was. And it is.” He shrugs, ignoring the old, dull pang in his chest. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years.”

“Did you think I would be mad?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, now wishing he’d just agreed to put the picture up when she’d handed it to him in the morning. This isn’t a topic he ever wanted to surface, and not with her. “When I first told you, you seemed… kind of mad. And then a bit sad.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most important thing to me now. I don’t want to ruin it.”

After a moment, he hears her sigh. He knows this sigh; it’s the same one he’d heard when he’d confessed to her that he didn’t know a lick of basketball, when his meticulously-planned drive-in movie date had gone to shit, when he’d inadvertently revealed that he was afraid she’d think he was too young for her.

“Kook…” She comes up to him, placing the frame on the coffee table on the way. Gently holding his hand, she tilts her head to meet his eyes. “I can’t be mad at you for something that happened before we met. Everyone has a past.”

“Yeah, but I’ve told you about this particular past before,” he reminds her, feeling wretched. “And it didn’t go very well.”

“Well… yeah. It didn’t come up in the best way, I guess,” she murmurs, and he knows she’s remembering their conversation in the Hybe copy room. “But now that we’ve moved past that… I can’t hold you to a crush you had years ago. Especially when it seems like you were friends,” she adds quietly.

Jungkook’s chest starts to feel heavy again. “You just… you sounded kind of mad. I think. Maybe I was imagining it,” he mutters, shrugging tiredly.

“I wasn’t mad… I guess I was a little thrown,” she admits. “I mean, I know you said she had a boyfriend. I just didn’t think it was one of the other members.”

He says nothing. He appreciates her understanding, although he should’ve always expected her to rise above petty jealousy or insecurity. It occurs to him for the hundredth time how lucky he is to have her; how, in the midst of a truly despondent time in his life, she’d been the beacon of light he’d been fortunate enough to stumble upon. He hadn’t looked back since.

But the moment his gaze lands on the picture discarded behind her, his heart creeps up his throat again.

“Is that what it is?” Her voice brings him back. “Do you feel guilty because she was dating your friend?”

For starters. There’s no point, he realises. As mature and understanding as Lia is, Jungkook doesn’t think he can find the words or the courage to relive his regrets, the ones that still catch him unawares when he hears her name in passing, or when he goes to rehearsal and inadvertently locks eyes with his hyung.

“Kind of.” 

Lia nods slowly. “It’s okay, Jungkook,” she murmurs, tugging at his hand again. “No one can control how they feel.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to respond to that. He makes a non-committal sound, his gaze flickering to the ground.

“You told me you were over her.”

“And I meant it.”

She squeezes his hand. “Good.”

He wills the heaviness in his chest to go away, and forces a small smile onto his face. “Sorry.”

She returns it, holding his gaze before reaching up and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. “We don’t have to put it up,” she reminds him.

But Jungkook shakes his head. “No, you’re right. It is a nice picture,” he allows, picking it up. “And it was a long time ago.”

Apparently satisfied, Lia smiles back radiantly. “And you look very hot in it.”

“If only you’d known me then.”

“You would’ve learnt to play basketball a lot sooner,” she agrees, chuckling. 

“So you forgive me?” he asks after a moment.

Lia’s smile fades slightly. “For having a crush?” she asks, reaching up and touches his forehead with hers. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Not even to your friend,” she adds. “I mean, nothing happened, right?”

She’s beautiful. A beacon of light in a period of darkness he couldn’t see beyond. She saved him, more than she would know.

Jungkook brushes a lock of hair off her forehead. “No,” he lies.

After lunch, Jungkook volunteers to clean up the living room and kitchen while Lia goes to do the laundry. Collecting their clothes from his bedroom, she chucks them in the washing machine, loading it with detergent and softener and turning it on.

She stops by the pantry on her way back, looking for a chocolate bar or any other candy, something to officially clear the air with Jungkook. She searches along the shelves, passing by ramen, boxes of Caffetta coffee, and a lot of protein powder - only to come to the conclusion that his house is hopelessly understocked with sugar.

“We can get low fat,” she murmurs to herself, preempting his response as she makes her way back to the living room. She stops abruptly at the doorway when she spots him, his back tilted towards her, framed picture in hand.

Lia’s heartbeat feels louder for a moment. She takes a quick step back behind the doorway; it’s unnecessary, though, for his focus is on something else entirely. 

She ought to have seen it before. It wasn’t until they returned to Jungkook’s apartment that she even noticed the most important detail in the picture. Mingyu sat to Jungkook’s right while a girl sat to his left, perched on the arm of the sofa. One hand hung loosely around Jungkook’s shoulder, so casually, so harmlessly, that Lia hadn’t even registered it this morning.

On her other side was her boyfriend, clearly. The way she leaned into him, the way his arm rested confidently on her waist, his fingers brushing the bare skin between her light blue jeans and striped crop top, the way their bodies fit perfectly - it looked like they’d known each other forever. There was no doubt as to who he was, especially since he was someone Lia had definitely met.

In light of how intensely close the couple looked, the girl’s hand around Jungkook’s shoulder seemed unimportant. It was almost like a habit, or convenience, her dark nail paint and the small cigarette stub between her fingers looking like they belonged there.

It’s her, isn’t it? There was no one else in the picture it could be, not any of the other handful of girls in the same frame. It’s her; the one who likes video games, the one with a boyfriend - the boyfriend who Lia now knows is one of Jungkook’s best friends, a big brother he loves.

She bites her lip, continuing to watch him until his shoulders relax slightly and he places the photograph back on the shelf. He gathers the empty bowls on the centre table and heads towards the kitchen, and Lia feels the seed of uneasiness sink in her stomach. 

She can believe he’s over her. She can believe it’s in the past, that Jungkook is with her in the present. 

Whatever it is, though - it’s definitely not finished.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

[unladyboss]

SYDNEY'S DAD APARTMENT: CHANGES: Season 3 THE BEAR

In season 3 there are some changes to Sydney's dad's apartment.

The first being that BATHROOM TIME now coincides for them. Remember this should not happen because SYDNEY was dedicated to going in early. I think she's going in later now because she lost some motivation. She's also looking out for herself

The bathroom is where her dad's bedroom bedroom is supposed be

SEASON 3

SEASON 2

The table is on the other side of the hallway

Season 3

Season 2

The pictures are different with different placement on the left side

The kitchen similar at the sink. Wall paper similar

When she talks it sounds as if her dad is in the room next door but in reality he's down the hall by the entranceway now.( Where his bedroom used to be)

The counter material is different

The knife holder isn't around.

Sure she could have moved them because she's not cooking or just to put her cup, but I don't think so. The cutting board not being there is of course a sensible thing because she was cooking for Marcus, when it was there. But why move the paper towels to the edge of the counter, even if she's brushing teeth.

The way Christopher Storer pays attention to detail is rabid.

Remember there hasn't been a huge leap in time. This is happening just days after the walk-in incident max!

This is like differences found in the Time Out Of Joint book by Philip k Dick as referenced by Richie in season 1 episode 1 and 2

[smokeys-house]

there's a little coffee station at my work, mostly cheapo stuff but it's free and it's hot. they've got a keurig (derogatory) and a selection of k-cups bought in bulk.

the thing is, every night someone puts a single different odd hot cocoa flavor in the little holder thingy. never more than one, and it doesn't get replaced or added onto until after I take it. it's always a different flavor and brand, and always just one. I looked around and didn't find a bulk box of anything other than the standard hot cocoa, excluding non cocoa beverages. At first I thought I was taking someone's special hot cocoa they were going to drink but if they are, why put it on the rotater for everyone to grab? why only bring one? why change it every time I drink one?

I still don't know who or why or how but I do know that I've tried several different keurig hot cocoas now and they're all terrible to mid at best. hope I'm not succumbing to an SCP or some kind of cocoa curse tbh

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros": From beyond

Ares: *sleeping on his bed*

Apollo, Hephaestus and Hermes: *sneaking next to Ares*

Hephaestus: *quietly sets up a fan next to Ares and turns it on*

Apollo: *whispers* I don't understand Hephaestus what are doing with Ares?

Hephaestus: *whispers* what I should have done long ago....I'm going to purpose suggestions through Ares's current state of REM sleep, his mind is now vulnerable to what any possible information we shall present to him...

Hermes: *whispers* In a nut shell, we're going to convince him to build a jacuzzi for us.

Apollo: *whispers* we can do that right now.

Hephaestus: *whispers* dear halfbrother, why would we waste our energy into building something ourselves when we can just make Ares do it for us?

Apollo: *whispers* this is unethical coming from you Hephaestus, sorry Hermes but I would say I expected better but this is generally something you'd probably do.

Hermes: *snickers a little* here we go. *Turns on the fan and speaks through it* ~Areeeees, Arrreeessss.....this is your great grandfather.....ugh... Ouranus speaking from beyond the ~~~beyoooooond~~~~.

Ares: *smirks half awake* wut? ~° da fuk? Great grand dad?

Hermes: *continuing* ~ yessss tis I. You've done me prrrooouuud my boy....I am sending you on a ~~~quessst~~~.

Apollo: *shocked this could actually be working*

Ares: *getting almost back to sleep but still listening* uuuuggghhh....does dad know about *yawn* this?

Hephaestus: *takes the fan* ~nooooo, be does not, but your quest....is to build a mighty "Jacuzzi of the Gods"....it must be done as.... Efficiently....as possible. You shall build it by hand, with no assistance....

Apollo: *mouths to himself in disbelief* what the actual fuk?

Ares: uuugghh...~° ok.

Hermes: *takes the fan back* ~it should have cup holders and a massage function tooo~~~

Ares: ~~mmm..k. *goes to back to sleep*

Hephaestus:*whispers* ok on my mark we hide under the bed.

Apollo: what no I'm not standing for this.

Hephaestus: *takes the fan back and decides to shout*THOU SHALL BUILD IT NOW!

Ares: *now fully wakes up* AH! OK OK IM UP! *Looks around and sees no one* .....what the fuk....oh shit that quest stuff....ugh....*gets up to find tools*

Apollo: *gets out from under Ares bed* what on earth?!? That really shouldn't have worked.

Hephaestus: hehehehehe we shall see the full extent of our little experiment.

Hermes: aaaaand I finally get to have that Jacuzzi I wanted.

Apollo: ...I can give you that now!

Hermes: I know, but what about a jacuzzi you can get for free?

Apollo: WE'RE GODS WE DON'T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING!

*later in the week after several more sleep suggestions*

Zeus: hmm....Hera, my spring chickadee.

Hera: *sighs* yes Zeus?

Zeus: ....why is there Jacuzzi in the main hall....and.... several other items? *Is seeing what looks like a fair amount of requested items and crudely made statues of Apollo, Hephaestus and Hermes all made by Ares* ....

Hera: Hmm... I'm not sure, but at least our son is finally getting into something more productive than war.

Zeus: hmm....*walks around and sees that there's a tikihut themed deck with a full bar and another Jacuzzi with Apollo, Hephaestus and Hermes in it.*......what is the meaning of this?

Apollo: *drinking a margarita* oh hello father! Would you like to join us?

Hermes: yah come on i-

Zeus: where is Ares?

Hephaestus: *drinking brandy* ....hmm..Im not sure...oh wait he's out getting us lunch.

Hermes: oh right he's getting takeout.

Zeus: *knowing damn well Ares doesn't do this kind of shit out the kindness of his own heart*....... alright, confess right now boys....what did you three do?

Apollo: .... ugh...

Hermes: Oh he's just doing stuff for us cus he like... really cool about it.

Ares: *came back from gods knows where* hey guys, so I'm not sure how Ouranus knows what you guys like but here's your order. Also seriously which one of you ordered a pizza with ham, olives, banana peppers and eggs that's shits fucking vile sounding.

Zeus: OURANUS?!?!? By the cosmic powers of the ether are talking about?!

Ares: oh yeah great grandpa Ouranus told me to do a bunch of stuff like build this hottub and shit...not sure why he's asking me but if he's calling me from *air quotes* "Beyond the Beyond" then it's probably important....I guess.

Zeus: *glairs at Hermes, Apollo and Hephaestus*.......and how is Ouranus communicating with you Ares?

Ares: ugh... through my sleep....

Zeus: *turns around dramatically* ...I knew it! Hypnos is responsible for this! Hera! Bring me my scroll and my quill! I have a very irate letter to write to Nyx!

Hera: *from the other room* do you want your angry letter quill with the speckles on it or you want the you write for administrative letters?

Zeus: THE REALLY ANGRY ONE! *leaves the room*

Ares: ...ugh wut? I did all this for nothing? *Kinda disappointed he didn't actually get a very important message from beyond the grave by Ouranus*

Apollo: ...oh that's very terrible....*turns to Hermes* You need to stop this.

Hermes: ..ugh...I'll send an apology letter to Hypnos later this week...*just enjoying his Jacuzzi*

Hephaestus: *now knows the lengths and extent of using a fan while Ares sleeps* hehe...oh don't worry, I'm sure someone will tell the truth some our w-

Ares: oh by the way the weirdest shit happened to me this morning, I woke up and I found this fan in my room and shit, and I just fukn wrecked the hell out on cus I thought it was someone watching me in my sleep.

Hephaestus: *forgot he accidentally let the fan behind* damnit

Apollo: oh that's so strange I wonder who would do such a thing. *Looks at Hephaestus knowing damn well what he did*

Hermes: ah what the fuk Heph you forgot the fan?

Ares: WHAT.

Hephaestus, Hermes and Apollo: NOTHING.

[like-the-cut-of-your-jib]

Opinion piece from NZ Herald about K-Challenge follows

“France’s late entry to the 37th America’s Cup in Barcelona has inevitably raised questions about their credibility as challengers – but their lateness will not necessarily affect their competitiveness.

There are still a lot of unanswered questions about France’s K-Challenge – where the money is coming from is one, another is whether they will have too much ground to make up when it comes to design and testing.

Louis Vuitton have a long history with the America’s Cup, sponsoring the challenger series from 1983-2007, when they terminated their involvement, saying that “business” had encroached too far in the organisation of the Cup – a bit of a poke at then holders, Alinghi, and their principal, Ernesto Bertarelli. Alinghi and Bertarelli are among the challengers in Barcelona next year – along with Ineos Britannia, American Magic, Luna Rossa and now K-Challenge.

The money question may be answered later this month with a sponsorship announcement. Among the heavy hitters who could be bankrolling the challenge is the man recently named as the richest in the world – Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessy founder Bernard Arnault, said to be worth US$200 billion and who recently took the title of the planet’s wealthiest man after the downturn in the fortunes of Elon Musk.

Another potential sponsorship candidate for K-Challenge is the French-based Accor hotel group, the largest in Europe and one of the biggest in the world.

Playing catch-up is not recommended in most America’s Cup cycles and particularly in the foiling monohulls – where design is an even more key element than previous Cups. However, under the Cup rules governing this regatta, K-Challenge do have options.

The 37th America’s Cup rules allow that and the most obvious port of call for K-Challenge could well be Team NZ. That would enable them to begin their race yacht build later this year – as all other teams will do.

The French are also not short of world-class sailing and foiling experience. Stephane Kandler, CEO of K-Challenge, has been around a long time and was involved with K-Challenge’s last America’s Cup gig in Valencia in 2007 (where they were known as Areva). Bruno Dubois manages their SailGP team, currently running third, very close behind New Zealand.

While the sailing team hasn’t yet been announced, it’s likely that the talented Quentin Delapierre will head it up as helmsman, as he does in the SailGP team – which also includes America’s Cup grinders Matthieu Vandame and Olivier Herledant. The latter pair was part of France’s Groupama team at the 2017 Bermuda America’s Cup, at which Team NZ relieved Oracle Team USA of the “Auld Mug”.

Groupama didn’t make it through to the challenger semifinals in that regatta and many will not assign much chance to K-Challenge this time round. However, they will still take delivery of their 40-foot test boat and will be able to compete in the Cup pre-regattas, starting in October and which Team NZ is scheduled to announce by April.

Two of those will be sailed in European venues in the AC 40s while the third will be contested in AC75s.

They can either buy a first generation AC75 boat, as Alinghi have done, and gather data and time on the water to inform the building of their race boat next year. It’s not known where that first-generation boat might come from (Alinghi bought Team New Zealand’s) – but a smarter play might be, with the money men on board, to buy a design package from another team.”

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 2

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev next–⊱

𝟎𝟐 | 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

chapter word count: 3.5 k

content warnings: mild panic attack, blanket warnings

a/n: Zeke was so difficult to write, so I hope I made his character justice. Like three months ago I was a bit neutral -if not indifferent- towards his character, but now I think he is my favorite. I need to pick his brain apart lmao. I think I am getting the hang of him though.

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 foot against the floor filled the room, creating an unlikely harmony with the dripping faucet and the creak of old wood. You lean back against the chair furthest from both doors, teetering on the brink of falling

You swing your weight back, just so managing to catch yourself before you topple down to the dusty floor. Your heart begins to slow down after the spike of adrenaline, yet still doesn’t reach a steady pace.

And whose would, in this situation? You are stuck in an old creepy house, in the room next to two people who unsettled you even while being on the other side of a screen.

You debate picking the lock on the front door, or maybe smashing a window to escape the suffocating atmosphere. The walls close in on you, the air is sucked out of the space, and the sink won't stop dripping. Your eyes glaze over, tuning out reality

Drip

The house is destroyed in a blaze of giant footsteps, the ceiling crumbles and the kitchen is buried under flaming rubble. The square where people strolled earlier is walked on for the last time.

Drip.

Libero is diminished to nothing more than a barren wasteland, flattened down by the will of a puppeteer turned puppet. Screams stop, replaced by the wet crunches of flesh and blood.

Drip.

The music crescendos. You know. You know and yet you are still unable to do anything, frozen under the dead eyed stare of colossal titans. Your bones are crushed, your consciousness dissolves.

Drip.

Your heavy breathing is interrupted by an opening door, your eyes shooting to the threshold, looking up from where you have curled up on yourself. Yelena scans you over and nods towards the space behind her.

When you blink, you are already halfway across the room, your feet robotically bringing you next to her. You take a deep breath as discreetly as you can, glancing at Yelena when she moves to the side, inviting you in.

You push the door forwards and are brought eye to eye with Zeke Jaeger, the holder of the beast titan, member of the royal family, and the closest way you have of getting back home.

The breeze stills as his gray eyes move from the teacup to you. All in the room is sunk in shadows –not yet processed by your brain– but him. If this were a play, the stage would be pitch black and a ray of limelight would be shining on his person.

Zeke stands, dwarfing your frame, and extends a hand. You hesitate for a moment before gripping it tightly.

“Hello there,” he greets, offering you a smile. You are so taken by his presence that you almost don't notice the door closing behind you.

“Come sit.”

He nods towards a sofa situated in front of his own. The only thing offering a buffer in between is a small coffee table, set with a steaming teapot and two metal cups.

You awkwardly follow his instructions, glancing once at the cup in front of you. A bottle of wine flashes through your mind.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how you take your tea, so apologies if it's not to your taste.”

Zeke continues the one sided conversation by himself, seemingly not bothered by your lack of engagement. He swirls around his own tea, a dark liquid that glitters when hit by the sunlight coming through a small window, parallel to the door.

You tentatively grab the cup, letting the warmth seep into your hands.

“Thank you,” you utter, not really knowing what else to say.

He chuckles and takes a sip from his own, scanning you up and down with more subtlety than Yelena. You wonder how you look from his perspective. Is he evaluating you as a threat? Or as a tool?

“I’m Zeke Jaeger,” yeah, you know, “and it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”

“Y/n.”

You bring the warm cup to your lips seconds after introducing yourself, frowning softly at the bitter taste. You would add sugar if it did not mean having to put the cup down and continue the conversation.

“Well, Miss Y/n, what can you tell me about the story of Ymir?”

You almost choke on the tea, barely remembering how to breathe afterwards.

He can't possibly know… right?

“I don’t… I'm not her,” you repeat, remembering Yelena’s first words to you.

“Now, I know that,” Zeke continues, “but that’s not what I asked.”

He shifts in place, and the gesture reminds you of your father scolding you after breaking a window with a baseball. Not mad, not even chastising, but instead presenting you with the problem and asking you to reflect on its error.

What ultimately dooms you is not that you are familiar with information that you shouldn't be familiar with, but that you're aware that you shouldn't know it. Innocent people would be nervous, sure, but they would answer.

You hesitate.

And you decide to tell the truth. Or at least half of it, anyway.

“I'm not… from here,” you start cautiously, gouging Zeke's reaction to your obvious revelation. He, predictably, stays silent, inviting you to continue.

“I think–” you take a deep breath. “I think I might be from another universe.”

That gets a reaction out of him. You catch an almost imperceptible flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly covered up by his nonchalant demeanor.

“Another… universe?” he asks, pausing in between words.

You nod, your throat suddenly closing up. Regret eats you alive, but you push forward, knowing that the man sitting in front of you was your current best bet at returning.

“There's a story. About her. Ymir,” you specify, the words bubbling up faster than you can process them. You let the dam flow, and now there was no stopping it. The dam, however, still acts as a filter, and you are cautious enough to trim and edit your story to your convenience.

“I read it. I'm not supposed to be here.”

Your last words come out in a hushed whisper, a plea for him to help you. You hate the idea of revealing some of your cards to him, but since he was half of the only two people who could currently access the paths and Ymir, Zeke was your only option if you wanted to communicate with the deity.

“So there's a story, in your… universe–” he pushes through the word like it's made of thick syrup, “ –that basically spells out our own history?”

You timidly incline your head in assent, feeling shy after throwing the ball to his court. There's a small crack in your mug that you trace over and over again, the repetition helping ground your attention instead of spiraling.

Zeke meditates over your words for a minute, his hand coming up to stroke his chin repeatedly. You can almost see the cogs in his brain turning behind his gray eyes, figuring out the likelihood of your story being true.

“You know of the paths, and of the conditions to access them.” He looks up to you again, searching for confirmation. You nod. “You know of my brother too.”

Zeke's eyes narrow, analyzing you once again. You feel like an old, dusty tome, locked away in an ancient library, promising knowledge to those who can decode its secrets.

He hums, processing the extent of your knowledge. You are hesitant to give him any more information that will expose the true reach of it.

“I need to get home,” you continue, not wanting to take part in the horrors to come. Sure, you would absolutely love to meet your favorite characters, but you don't fancy being turned to mush or shot at with a pistol.

And you have a life there. Friends, family.

Are they wondering where you are? Would they look for you?

You cage those thoughts in a box and throw it deep, deep in your mind. Now is not the time to spiral.

“You want me to look through the paths for a solution.” Zeke finishes your train of thought, looking down, and you give him an affirmative nod. While you didn't know of the thing –or things– that brought you here, maybe a higher power could take you back. Thus, Ymir.

Ymir is the closest to a god you had here, and the world be damned if you wouldn’t pray at her feet for a chance at going home. You almost feel like a devout follower, willing to make a pilgrimage for an opportunity to be heard.

You let Zeke process your request, and after a moment he sighs, turning his head to you.

“I know we just met,” he starts. “But I’m going to need you to trust me. If there is anything, anything at all in that story that could be relevant I need you to tell me.”

Your throat dries, and your tongue refuses to cooperate, turning as heavy as lead. No sound comes out of your mouth, so you close it, only to open it again.

“I trust you,” you lie in a raspy voice.

Zeke does not believe you, obviously, but neither does he make an effort to refute your statement. He simply nods, and the silence envelopes both of you until he speaks again.

“Well, let's get you situated then.” Zeke stands up, offering you a hand. “You are supposed to be staying with me, after all.”

In the whirlwind of the conversation you had forgotten all about your cover story. Holy shit. You are going to be living with the very real Zeke Jaeger. Concern rises in your mind, remembering Marley’s obsession with keeping Eldians in line.

“And before I forget. Here.”

His hand dips into his front coat pocket and extracts a ruby red armband embroidered with a white nine point star. Your white armband rustles against your jacket when you take it off, allowing Zeke to tie the new one around your bicep.

“Isn’t there going to be an issue with my, I don't know, blood status? Someone mentioned blood tests at the station.”

No one had mentioned tests, actually, but you feel confident enough that it's such a small detail that Zeke won't bother confirming it with Yelena. Why would he verify such a trivial sentence, when the threat of being seen with her far outweighs the risks?

A single drop of blood would confirm that you're not Eldian, not Marleyan, not anything else. No family or government to respond to too, in case the higher ups wanted to run trials with your genetic material.

“Oh, don't worry about it,” he waves off your concerns. “People in charge are more worried about an Eldian pretending to be Marleyan, rather than the other way around. Puts things into perspective.”

He takes the now obsolete piece of fabric from your hand and lets it take the empty place inside his pocket.

“What does red mean?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“You are part of my family now,” Zeke responds. “I am a Warrior, and we get special privileges as such. I will explain everything later, I promise. But we have to move.”

Zeke gives you a reassuring smile, and a small, treacherous part of your heart is comforted.

When you get out of the small room, you discover that Yelena had already left, leaving nothing to betray her presence in the house. Smart plan, you think. Yelena and Zeke could not be connected yet in the eyes of Marley. She probably just retrieved you because of the trust already placed upon her.

You follow Zeke out into the alley, and continue down an unfamiliar path until you arrive at a quaint street, flanked by living quarters. You pay half your attention to Zeke’s chattering, and half to committing to memory the scenery.

“I’m sure she already told you,” –he skips over Yelena’s name– “but your father was a distant relative of mine, on my mother’s side.” A lie, obviously. Still, a convenient one. Now he had a reason to keep you under his wing, even if he lived one of the most supervised lives in Marley.

“My parents are a touchy subject with my grandparents, but they shouldn't have a problem with you.” His steps are light and breezy, his slow pace aiding you in falling into a similar stride. “Still, try not to mention her. Keep the comments about your family at a minimum.”

Zeke halts his walking, almost causing you to bump into his figure. His eyes pierce into yours, wanting to transmit the importance of his statement.

“The best stories can still be unraveled when exposed enough.”

He doesn’t need to expand on it. You get a feeling that he's not just talking about your fake backstory. You nod, digging your fingernails into your palms. Zeke smiles and continues on his path.

You stay frozen on the sidewalk a little longer, before shaking your head and jogging to catch up.

“So, uh, you live with them? Your grandparents?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Down the street from them. You'll have your own space, don't worry.”

“Oh, I didn't mean–”

“It's okay, I know how you teenagers get. I've been personally acquainted with some.”

Zeke lets out a hearty chuckle, looking straight ahead. The late afternoon sun rays bounce off his already golden hair, giving him an almost ethereal look. It drenches your coat too, melting the original beige into something more blinding.

You and Zeke strut through town, coming up to a nicer neighborhood than the one with the seedy house. It is still nothing compared to some buildings out in Liberio, and yet you feel a shift in the general vibe.

A distant person raises their left arm in greeting and you notice a difference in their attire. A striking yellow armband has taken the place of the pure white ones, and as Zeke raises his own arm, you recognize that his own armband is blood red.

“That’s Johann Grice,” his voice points out to you, lowering his hand and resuming his walk up some stairs towards a door . “He's got a boy I’m… mentoring. Around your age I'd say.”

You feel a little uncomfortable at the revelation, Colt’s death feeling like a grim reminder of what you feel like you are condemning this world to. Would Johann Grice wave to you if he knew you were sentencing his eldest son to death?

“I'll introduce you later, come on.”

Zeke knocks on a house’s door, his tall body shielding you from half the field of vision of the threshold. A kind looking old woman opens the door, her tired eyes instantly softening at the view of her grandson.

“Zeke!” she greets with a smile. “What a nice surprise. We weren't expecting you until much later.”

Zeke hugs the woman you assume to be his grandma, Mrs Jaeger, and greets her back.

“The train came much earlier than expected,” he explains, breaking the hug and moving a little to the side, exposing you to Mrs Jaeger. “This is Y/n. The girl I told you about, daughter of the dead soldier.”

You give a nervous smile to the old woman, shyly raising your wand to wave, before deciding that that’s not something a normal person would do to someone standing meters in front of them. The result is a jumbled motion of your arm jerking up before clunkily returning to its resting pace.

“Hello,” you instead try. “It's nice meeting you.”

Mrs Jaeger surprises you when she pulls you in for an unexpected hug, making you freeze up before tentatively putting your arms around her, returning the gesture.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she exclaims, seemingly touched by your fake story. “I am very sorry for what happened to your father.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

You notice Zeke giving you a small, reproachful look from behind her grandma's shoulder, still holding you in an embrace. You answer with your own lost expression, wordlessly transmitting that, while you were aware of your robotic response, you still didn’t know how else to act.

“Come in, come in.” Mrs Jaeger ushers you inside. “My husband’s just upstairs, I'll go call him. You make yourself at home, dear.”

She retreats up the stairs after giving you a smile, leaving you alone with Zeke in the kitchen. The sound of the creaky floorboards gets softer as she ascends, and you follow her footsteps with your head.

You are standing still in the same place as when you entered, feeling very out of place in the small home. You lock eyes with Zeke, whose eye corners are creased with his own small grin.

“They’re nice,” you mumble, making his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

Zeke strolls past you to the counters, opening and closing many in quick succession. He rummages through cabinets, his hand emerging from one of them with a small, silver tin. The opened tin is offered to you, and you peer inside it, identifying small, powdery biscuits.

The flour stains your fingers white as you wordlessly take one, nibbling on it to have something to do with your hands. Zeke takes another before storing the tin where he found it, next to the leak-free faucet and the pile of firewood for the stove.

You exchange words with Mrs Jaeger and her husband when they come down, and they assure you that if you ever need anything, you can just ask. You nod awkwardly at their offer, noting at their coddling behavior. You remember Faye, and just as quickly you push her out of your thoughts.

They offer you dinner, which you refuse, still too jittery to eat anything more than the small cookie. After bidding the couple goodnight, you and Zeke exit their house and make your way to an adjacent residence, where Zeke unlocks the front door, placing a duplicate of the key in your palm.

“Home sweet home,” he says as he leads you inside a property nearly identical to the previous one. The only difference is in the personal items, small trinkets strewn across tables and shelves. Zeke approaches something behind you, you hear a click and light floods the room.

He motions for you to follow him upstairs, turning to a door down the hall across the railing. Picture frames are hung up on the walls of the hallway, small tidbits of Zeke’s life bringing color to the wooden corridor.

This only serves as a striking contrast to the bedroom you are shown, the bare room only containing a bed, small desk, dresser, and shelves, lined with old books. Your eyes zero in on two of them, a red one with what you assume to be anatomy drawings, and another with paw prints across the spine.

A small breeze flows through the window above the bed, making the light blue curtains sway gently in the wind. Zeke walks towards the desk, igniting the small candle lamp that then coats the space in a warm light.

“This is your room,” Zeke makes a flourish with his hand, akin to a circus ringmaster. “You'll find some clothes there,” he points to the drawers. “I can have them mended if they don't fit.”

“Thank you,” you fumblingly answer, taking a few hesitant steps past the door frame, towards the book with the paw prints.

Your fingers trace over the unknown symbols of the cover, the runes forming what you were sure to be the title. Yet, you couldn’t decipher what it was supposed to mean. Zeke strides over to stand by your side, examining your pick in literature.

“What, you’re interested in–” he squints his eyes at the book in your hands, “ –The Beginners Guide to Observing Wildlife? I didn't know I still had that,” he mutters.

“Is that what this is?”

Zeke shoots you a confused look, making you turn your gaze downwards. You mess with a small piece of the cover that is coming off, hesitating.

“I can't read it.”

The confession tastes bitter in your tongue, and you feel strangely embarrassed at not knowing the written language of a world that was not supposed to exist. Your cheeks burn and you turn your face to the side, quickly returning the book to the shelf.

Zeke's face softens, and he places a comforting hand on your back. You can practically feel older brother energy oozing from his figure, and you feel like a small kid again, knowing everything in the world, and yet ignorant of so much more.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, patting you back. “Goodnight. I'll be down the hall if you need anything.”

The door closes behind him, and you are truly alone for the first time since… well, since you were home. Home sweet home, Zeke had said. Sweet, maybe, you think, the sugar from the biscuits still coating your tastebuds. Home? Not really.

You find cotton pajamas in a drawer below the book lined shelves, and you make a quick work of slipping them on. Crawling into the covers after blowing out the candle, you find yourself revisiting the quick succession of events today, from the ruins, to the train, to the internment zone.

Your heart squeezes painfully, discomfort beginning to stir beneath your flesh. You fall into restless, interrupted sleep, lulled by the distant sound of train whistles.

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