#Sink unit and kitchen equipments

[taegularities]

colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough. 

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription. 

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep. 

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.” 

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But. 

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room. 

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive. 

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything? 

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Curieously for sending this large church made into condos. Isn't this interesting? They really made it into an apt. building- look at the terraces lined up. This unit in the 1861 church in Pittsburgh, PA has 2bds, 3ba & is listed for $475K + $440mo. HOA.

Stairs lead right up into the unit.

It's very open concept and look, a pole right in the middle, in case you want to use it for dance and exercise. Lovely how they left the arches.

Very well-equipped kitchen in the corner with the stained glass windows.

It's an extremely large open space.

This is the suggested floor plan.

Spacious primary bedroom with a terrace.

The terrace is nice and large enough for a table.

The view.

The en-suite. I love floating furniture. That's really nice, they included cupboards next to the sinks.

Nice big shower.

And, a nice big closet.

I didn't know that it was a dupex.

The 2nd bd. and bath are down here.

The 2nd bd. has a nice closet and a terrace.

Plus a 3pc. bath.

The grounds are lovely, but I would think that your outdoor activities would be confined to the terrace.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1-Pius-St-SUITE-A3-Pittsburgh-PA-15203/116179361_zpid/?

[sturniolotrip-samandcolby-lover]

Matt sturniolo Little bean - first scan

Part 2 of the series

Word count -1.5k

Warnings - swearing, mentions of hospitals,fluff Matt ,crying,use of y/n ,3 months pregnant, not proof read that's all I think

Summary -Basically reader and Matt go for their baby's first scan and just a whole lot of fluff

Please like , comment and follow guys .I try and make sure I follow everyone back .

I stand at the kitchen sink watching the fresh morning sky through the window as I gusle down my second pint of cold water , hearing that it helps make the baby show easier on the sonogram.I look down to my stomach with a tiny bump forming .I remember the first time I noticed it and thinking that I was massive already but I just know that by the end of this pregnancy I'll be about 10 times the size but I can't wait .

I hear Matt's and I bedroom door open and close as I hear the quite sound of Matt's bare feet touching the laminate floor as he makes his way to the kitchen ." I wondered where you was missy" he exclaims and I smile at my nickname from him ,he leans into kiss me as he grabs a cup so he can make some coffee for himself ."I couldn't sleep any longer I'm just too excited" I respond."do you want a decaf coffee?" Matt asks me with a smile at my last sentence,"nah I'm good thanks babe , I'll stick to the water" I say to him pointing at my now empty glass ."but you hate water" He says to me with a confused look on his face "i know but i heard somewhere the more water you drink the clearer the baby is supposed to show up" i explain to matt as he nods his head still focusing on making his coffee.

*1 hour later*

"Remember to get that photo guys ... I wanna see a picture of my niece" I hear Chris shouting as I walk down the stairs following Matt ."we will do and it might not be a girl we won't find out yet tho" I hear Matt answering his younger brother .We hear a quick mutter of okay from Chris as we shut the door to the garage and make way to the car.I get in the passenger seat strapping the seat belt over my tiny bump .As matt straps himself in and starts reversing out onto the road .

As we start to park up at the hospital I begin to feel nervous , and I suddenly go quiet."you okay peach?" Matt asks me breaking the sudden silence."yeah just abit nervous now" I say honestly as we lock the car and make our way to the hospital."it'll be fine the baby will be fine " he says reassuring me as he holds my hand .We enter the hospital and after getting lost we finally make our way to the maternity unit .

We sit waiting in the waiting room with my hand still linked with Matt's as his thumb rubs comforting circles on the back of my hand.As I look around I noticed that Matt and I are by far the youngest parents to be and there is a older lady with her much further gone bump as she looks down to it so lovingly.I can't wait for that to be me .I'm taken out of my day dream state by a midwife calling my name "miss y/l/n ?" I stand up with Matt ."yes that's us" I respond walking over to her with a smile on my face and Matt following .

As we enter the little room with a small bed , a chair and a little machine with a screen on it .I suddenly feel like I have no idea what I'm doing ."so how do you preferred to be addressed?" The nurse asked me as she walks towards the machine ,"y/n" is just fine I say with a small smile ."please take a seat on the bed if you could lower your leggings just below your bump , and you're dad I'm assuming?" The nurse says the last part to Matt ."yeah I'm dad" he responds shyly ,"please take a seat" she says to matt in which he takes her up on this offer.

"now y/n I understand this is your first baby" the nurse asks as she starts preparing her equipment."yes it's first baby for both of us " I say nodding to Matt as I say that last part of my sentence."right I'm just going to put this jelly on your stomach so I can see baby it will be a little cold " the nurse says to me with a smile.'little cold' would be the biggest understatement I've ever heard as soon as the nurse put the jelly on my my abdomen is freezing, the nurse must notice the quick jump I make as she mutters a quick sorry .

She moves her wand looking thing over my stomach as she spreads the cold jelly across of it .She stares at the screen so insensitive as she makes notes while pressing buttons .After minutes of agonizing silence she moves the screen towards Matt and I ."so there's your baby" she says with a smile as she presses a button and a strong heartbeat fills the room .I can't take my eyes off the screen as I look at it in absolute awe ."hi baby" I whisper to the screen quietly.

"are you okay dad?" I hear the nurse as my gaze is turned from our little blob onto the screen to Matt ."yeah just alot isn't it" I hear Matt's response as he wipes his eyes " I just can't believe I'm going to be a dad" as his eyes water up again .The nurse nods her head understandingly "makes it all seem real now doesn't it" the nurse says to us both in which we respond with a chorus of "yeah's" ."so baby is measuring up perfectly for it's age and you're 13 weeks and 3 days .I understand that you would like some photos printed" the nurse says ."yes please, 4 if you can" I say to her ."that's fine I'll just get that sorted and get you booked in for your next scan that will be in 7 weeks and we'll also be able to see baby's gender by then aswell unless you chose for a private scan then you would find out earlier" The nurse says as she leaves the room to get out scan photos printed .

I turn my attention to Matt "are babe are you alright" I ask him as I reach my hand for him , he takes me hand "yeah just really happy" I wipe the jelly off my stomach and raise my trousers up over my bump .While I swing my legs around to sit on the bed facing Matt .The nurse come back into the room handing us out pictures of our baby ."right so thats you booked in for 7 weeks and congratulations" the nurse says as we leave the room .

*drive home*

"isn't it just the cutest blob " Matt says to me as he waits for me to walk to the door while he looks again at the scan photos in admiration."it really is " I say once I reach him , I lean in to give him a quick kiss as he opens the house door ."guys come down here we've got pictures of bean " Matt shouts up the stairs to his two brothers as we hear 2 sets of footsteps getting closer to the entrance "bean?" I say to Matt giving him a questionable look."yeah our little bean" he responds with a massive smile on his face .

[themxtleycrew]

From chats with @midnightactual on discord, I've been trying to come up with the general layout of Ema's apartment.

She's renting a two-bedroom unit, the smaller bedroom is her's but also doubles as her office. Instead of a bed, she has one of those couches that can extend into a bed (though she often forgets to switch it and just settles for sleeping on it in the couch configuration).

The larger bedroom is the guest room (or where Gina sleeps in my modern AU where Ms. Lestrade is Ema's understudy... thankfully the unit allows pets, so Toby is fine). Ema does use the larger bedroom's closet for storing some of her other junk (anime figures, tokusatsu paraphernalia) though she tries to keep these hidden by clothes and boxes. The guest room contains a queen sized bed, night stands, a dresser, as well as a tv stand and tv.

Ema has been practicing the 'science of cooking' in the kitchen (refuses to call it an 'art' because cooking is SCIENCE!), but due to the on-call nature of her job she doesn't really get much time to cook for herself. As such, the fridge of often stocked with TV dinners as opposed to fresh foods. They are sorted by name, food type, and calorie count. She does at least keep the place clean and never leaves trash lying around, so it's not like you'll find stacks of empty food containers or pizza boxes here.

The 'dining area' more or less functions as a lab, the table is covered in tools and equipment for experiments and testing out new forensic investigation methods beyond the usual luminol and fingerprint analysis. Dinners are rarely eaten here.

The living room area has another tv and tv stand as well as a couch and coffee table, plus a couple tv-dinner tables for herself and whatever company she might have over. There is a Steel Samurai poster over the couch. Ema rarely uses the balcony, except for the one time she had to throw a particularly reactive batch of chemicals over the edge before they exploded.

The bathroom is always kept clean (she's picked up Nick's habit of obsessively cleaning the toilet), rarely is there ever soap scum in the sink or bath tub. Ema prefers showers, but occasionally likes to spoil herself with a nice relaxing bath. There are bathrobes hanging on the door and always two towels on the towel rack.

Now it's not a fancy five star building, but it is affordable on her budget (especially with the Prosecutors office's habit of slashing salaries). In verses where she has a room mate, they are expected to kick up a percentage of the rent.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Moment of true happiness: 6 Nov. Destiel Month

s9 au, human Cas, deancas ust

The apples piled in the big metal bowl made a fetching still life, their green and mottled red skins a mirror to the leaves on the maple trees Cas knew were lining the streets of Lebanon. He hated to peel away the vibrant, cheerful colors. The recipe didn't say anything about the skins being poisonous, or even annoying. He ignored the peeling edict. 

He also discovered, quickly, that he didn't enjoy cubing anything. Who wanted to eat a mouthful of little cubes? Surely the apples would be soft by the time they were being consumed, but cubes still didn't seem appealing. He cut the apples through their cores and then made thin, or thinner, wedges of them. He liked the look of that.

He did remember to turn on the oven around the time he was slicing a lemon in half. The bunker oven tick-tick-ticked at him, like a scolding teacher. The lemon squirted juice onto his face, rudely, as he tried to douse the apple slices to keep them from turning a sad, bruised hue. He wiped off his cheek and tossed the slices with his hands, which is how he realized he had a papercut on one knuckle. 

Cas hissed and went to rinse his stinging finger in the sink.

Next, sugar. The recipe called for white sugar. In the sugar canister, only a half a cup remained. He'd make up the rest with brown sugar. Or would he… The brown sugar he took from the large shelving unit near the door seemed to be a solid brick in a plastic bag. When he dropped it on the counter, it thumped strongly and a skillet hanging above the counter dove off the rack as if fleeing a bombing. Cas broke a large chunk of the brown sugar into the apple bowl and poked it repeatedly with a fork; the chunk somewhat came apart, looking a lot like a toppled sand castle.

The recipe said ginger, nutmeg, and allspice were essential ingredients. Cas found cinnamon and guessed a sprinkling or three would be acceptable. The recipe said to add a fourth of a teaspoon of salt. Cas threw in two pinches, which were probably close enough. He flopped in a little flour and then a little more for good measure; the bag said the flour had expired almost a year ago but he didn't smell anything strange or see any bugs. He stirred everything in the bowl with a large wooden spoon and ignored the trickle of sweat inching between his shoulder blades.

Taking one of the pre-made pie crusts out of its box and unfolding it into a glass pie plate was one of the most nerve wracking moments of Cas's long life. The softened crust drooped disconcertingly like the hide of an animal. He patted it down and shuddered. He scraped the apples into the crust, shook them into a single layer, and unfolded the second pie crust on top.

He would have to keep touching the unsettling dough if he wanted to, as the recipe recommended, "flute the edges prettily." He used a fork to smush the edges together and found the little lines the tines made pleasing.

Cas made three cuts in the top crust, right in the center like a star or – and he thought this was charming – a cross-section of an apple. He put the plate in the oven and set a timer for fifteen minutes, which was when a necklace of aluminum foil would need to be placed around the edge of the crust, ergo he had fifteen minutes to find the aluminum foil.

He let out a long, shaky breath of relief.

Ten minutes later, he was halfway to genuine grief: if there was aluminum foil in this cursed kitchen, he had yet to see it with his own eyes, and he'd rummaged through every bin, drawer, and shelf five times already. He was kneeling on the floor, scrabbling through a cabinet full of dubiously dinged-up Men of Letters era pots and pans and lab equipment, when Dean yelled, "Holy shit are you baking a pie?" and surprised Cas so badly Cas banged his head on the cabinet door.

"Fuck, sorry, man," Dean said at a normal volume as he dove down to join Cas on the floor. His palm was as cold as an ice cube as he placed it on Cas's forehead. His other hand gripped Cas at the shoulder and he was looking into Cas's face like he expected to find a gaping wound. 

"I think I'm all right," Cas said, sitting back on his heels. 

"Yeah, you're good; no bleeding." Dean gave him a sheepish grin and lowered his hands with what seemed like reluctance. "What're you looking for?"

Cas sighed. "Aluminum foil."

"Kevin or Sam might have the roll. They've been up to something they think can help us track Gadreel." Dean glanced up at the stove. "You're making pie though?" His eyes were amazingly green.

Cas ignored the clench of his heart and started to climb to his feet. Dean helped him up and stood very near, as though worried Cas's skull was more damaged than initially assumed. 

"I saw a recipe and thought it sounded simple enough." Cas hoped his face didn't look as warm as it felt. "I wanted to contribute to the household."

Dean's smile was like a kid's, genuine and full of light. "You already have been, but don't let me stop you from expanding your roster." He seemed happy to keep looking at Cas. "Next time, I want in on the action."

"Help me find the aluminum foil and you can help this time." Cas took a chance at not breaking eye contact, even though he wasn't quite sure why saying something innocuous felt…coy.

"Sure," Dean said easily and took Cas's hand, like leaving the kitchen's safety required a buddy system.

Maybe lots of things did. Cas let himself be pulled along; by the time they located the roll of foil on a library table beside two rabbit skulls and a vial of crushed banshee teeth, he was gratified to note that Dean's hand was much warmer than it had been earlier.

The pie turned out to be edible. Kevin, Sam, and Cas each ate one piece, and Dean ate three. Cas wondered if Dean would taste of spice and apple and hoped nothing of the wondering showed on his expression.

(Later, he conceded it must have. But being softly kissed by Dean was well worth the failure.)

[denvrestequip36]

Denver Restaurant Equipment

Denver Restaurant Equipment: The Essential Guide for Aspiring Restaurateurs

Introduction

Denver, Colorado, known for its vibrant culture, scenic beauty, and booming culinary scene, is an ideal city for aspiring restaurateurs. However, the journey from dream to reality involves many intricate details, one of the most crucial being the acquisition of the right restaurant equipment. Whether you're opening a cozy café, a bustling bistro, or a high-end dining establishment, understanding the landscape of Denver restaurant equipment is vital. This guide delves into the nuances of choosing, purchasing, and maintaining restaurant equipment in Denver, offering insights and tips to help you navigate this essential aspect of your culinary venture.

Understanding the Importance of Quality Restaurant Equipment

Before diving into the specifics, it's important to comprehend why quality equipment is fundamental to any restaurant's success. High-quality restaurant equipment ensures efficiency, consistency, and safety in your kitchen operations. It can significantly affect the speed of service, the quality of food, and overall customer satisfaction. Investing in reliable equipment minimizes downtime due to breakdowns and reduces long-term maintenance costs. Moreover, it adheres to health and safety regulations, which is crucial for maintaining a reputable business.

Types of Essential Restaurant Equipment

Cooking Equipment

Ovens and Ranges: The backbone of any kitchen, ovens and ranges come in various types, including convection ovens, deck ovens, and combi ovens. Each type serves different cooking needs, from baking and roasting to steaming and grilling.

Grills and Griddles: Ideal for preparing a variety of dishes, from steaks to pancakes, grills and griddles are essential for any kitchen aiming to offer a diverse menu.

Fryers: Essential for any establishment that serves fried foods, fryers come in countertop and floor models, with options for gas or electric power.

Refrigeration Equipment

Walk-in Coolers and Freezers: These provide ample storage for perishable items, ensuring they remain fresh and safe to use.

Reach-in Refrigerators and Freezers: Convenient for quick access to frequently used ingredients, these units come in various sizes and configurations.

Undercounter Refrigeration: Perfect for smaller kitchens or specific stations, undercounter units save space and provide efficient cooling right where it's needed.

Food Preparation Equipment

Mixers and Blenders: From dough mixers to high-speed blenders, these tools are vital for preparing a wide range of dishes and beverages.

Food Processors: These versatile machines can chop, slice, and puree ingredients, speeding up prep work and ensuring consistency.

Slicers: Essential for delis and sandwich shops, slicers provide uniform cuts for meats, cheeses, and vegetables.

Storage and Shelving

Dry Storage Shelving: Proper shelving is crucial for keeping dry goods organized and accessible. Stainless steel shelves are durable and easy to clean.

Pantries and Cabinets: Secure storage for utensils, cookware, and ingredients helps maintain an efficient and clutter-free kitchen.

Cleaning and Sanitation

Dishwashers: From undercounter models to large conveyor dishwashers, these machines ensure your dishes, glasses, and utensils are clean and sanitized.

Sinks and Faucets: Multiple compartment sinks and pre-rinse faucets are essential for washing produce, pots, pans, and other kitchen tools.

Sanitizing Stations: Essential for maintaining health standards, these stations include handwashing sinks and sanitizer dispensers.

Smallwares and Utensils

Pots and Pans: A variety of sizes and types, including non-stick, stainless steel, and cast iron, are necessary for different cooking methods.

Cutlery: Quality knives and cutting tools are essential for efficient and safe food preparation.

Utensils and Gadgets: From spatulas and ladles to thermometers and measuring cups, having the right tools can make a significant difference in kitchen operations.

Choosing the Right Equipment Supplier in Denver

Selecting a reliable equipment supplier is crucial for getting quality products and excellent customer service. Here are some factors to consider when choosing a supplier in Denver:

Reputation and Reviews: Look for suppliers with positive reviews and a good reputation in the industry. Word-of-mouth recommendations from fellow restaurateurs can also be valuable.

Product Range: Ensure the supplier offers a wide range of equipment from reputable brands. This variety allows you to compare and choose the best options for your needs.

Service and Support: A good supplier should provide comprehensive support, including delivery, installation, and maintenance services. Check if they offer warranties and after-sales support.

Price and Financing Options: Compare prices from different suppliers to get the best deals. Additionally, inquire about financing options if you need to manage your budget more effectively.

Local Expertise: Suppliers with local knowledge can offer insights into Denver's market trends and regulations, helping you make informed decisions.

Navigating Health and Safety Regulations

Compliance with health and safety regulations is non-negotiable in the restaurant industry. In Denver, the Department of Public Health and Environment oversees these regulations. Key areas to focus on include:

Food Handling and Storage: Ensure your equipment supports proper food handling and storage practices to prevent contamination and spoilage.

Sanitation Standards: Equip your kitchen with the necessary tools for maintaining hygiene, such as commercial dishwashers, handwashing stations, and sanitizers.

Fire Safety: Install fire suppression systems, smoke detectors, and fire extinguishers as required by local regulations. Regular maintenance of cooking equipment can also prevent fire hazards.

Ventilation and Air Quality: Proper ventilation systems are essential for maintaining air quality and preventing the buildup of smoke and grease.

Accessibility: Ensure your establishment complies with the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) by providing accessible facilities and equipment.

Sustainable and Energy-Efficient Equipment

With increasing awareness of environmental issues, many restaurateurs are opting for sustainable and energy-efficient equipment. Benefits include reduced utility bills, a smaller carbon footprint, and positive customer perception. Here are some tips for choosing eco-friendly equipment:

Energy Star Ratings: Look for equipment with Energy Star certification, which indicates high energy efficiency.

Eco-Friendly Materials: Choose equipment made from sustainable materials, such as stainless steel, which is durable and recyclable.

Water Efficiency: Opt for water-efficient dishwashers and faucets to reduce water consumption and waste.

Waste Management: Implement waste management practices, such as composting and recycling, and choose equipment that supports these efforts.

Local Sourcing: Whenever possible, source equipment and ingredients locally to reduce transportation emissions and support the local economy.

Financing Your Restaurant Equipment

Purchasing restaurant equipment can be a significant investment. Fortunately, several financing options are available to help manage costs:

Leasing: Leasing equipment allows you to conserve capital and upgrade to newer models as needed. It also includes maintenance and repair services.

Loans and Credit Lines: Business loans and lines of credit from banks or other financial institutions can provide the necessary funds for purchasing equipment.

Vendor Financing: Some suppliers offer financing options directly, which can be convenient and tailored to your purchase.

Government Grants and Programs: Explore local and federal programs that offer grants or low-interest loans for small businesses, particularly those promoting sustainability.

Maintaining and Repairing Your Equipment

Proper maintenance is key to extending the lifespan of your equipment and ensuring it operates efficiently. Here are some maintenance tips:

Regular Cleaning: Follow manufacturer guidelines for cleaning and sanitizing equipment. Regular cleaning prevents buildup and reduces wear and tear.

Scheduled Inspections: Conduct routine inspections to identify potential issues before they become major problems. This includes checking for leaks, unusual noises, and performance issues.

Professional Servicing: Hire professional technicians for regular servicing and repairs. They have the expertise to handle complex equipment and ensure it operates safely and efficiently.

Employee Training: Train your staff on the proper use and care of equipment. Misuse can lead to damage and increased maintenance costs.

Record Keeping: Maintain detailed records of maintenance and repairs. This helps track the history of each piece of equipment and plan for future replacements or upgrades.

Conclusion

Starting a restaurant in Denver is an exciting venture, filled with potential for creativity and success. However, the foundation of any successful restaurant lies in its equipment. From selecting the right ovens and refrigerators to navigating health regulations and financing options, every decision plays a critical role in your establishment's operational efficiency and customer satisfaction. By investing in quality equipment, choosing reliable suppliers, and committing to proper maintenance, you can build a robust kitchen that supports your culinary vision and stands the test of time. Denver's dynamic culinary scene offers endless opportunities, and with the right tools and knowledge, you can carve out your own niche in this vibrant market. Remember, the journey of a thousand dishes begins with a single piece of equipment. Choose wisely, maintain diligently, and watch your culinary dreams come to life in the Mile-High City.

[capsensislagamoprh]

Okay, hear me out.

So, I was thinking. No one uses that cabinet above the fridge. Best case scenario, it's a 'shit I don't use/hide from the kids' aria.

Then I started thinking about how handy cap people with chairs and stuff can't even reach the upper cabinets anyway and wtf, you know?

Then I thought of this really great pumpkin pie ice cream. And I was like: how can a wheelchair user use the fridge without help? And that lead me to thinking of a chest freezer. And then I was like: well, what are they supposed to do? Get up to dig around in it? Chairs are not cheep medical equipment, If you have one, you need it. Then my mind did a thing. You know ice cream stores and how they can slide back metal tops to these chest freezers where the tubs of cold, creamy goodness is kept? Like that. But shallower, so they can be put on a kitchen island sort of thing. And then I came up with that up there. Now, I am not sure I have kinks worked out of it, but generally, the idea is that the top loading dishwasher is basically a single long rack that rotates. Like. You put a row of dishes or whatever in, load the silver where thingy, and then push a button or rotate a wheely thingy that pulls up the next rack while the farthest back rack drops. Like a store convey belt, but less auto annoying. Also it can move forward to help with unloading and stuff. A fridge and freezer unit built long and not too deep, not too out of reach, with room under it for the chair, so it can be used by a person who can't with the standing thing. I added a stove that's long, not pushed back, on top of the island so everything can be reached. Same with the sink. Not to deep, slanted forward with the drain in the front, so you don't lose things to the back of the tub. I thought some top storage would be nice too, along with side storage and plenty of drawers. I dunno. I'm medicated. What do you all think?

[doubleunion]

Join us! Double Union applications are now open!

Double Union is accepting new member applications. Read on for more information about our application process and our community space for nonbinary people and women. Please share this post with friends or community groups who might be interested too!

To apply: go to the membership info page and click on the pink “Apply to join” button.

What is Double Union all about?

We are a community workshop that centers women and nonbinary people who are trans, cis, intersex, queer, straight, and not-fitting-into-those-labels, no matter what you look like. You don't have to prove you belong here.  Today we have about 150 members and are planning to accept many more. Our space is located at 77 Falmouth St. in San Francisco, on a side street near 5th and Folsom in SOMA.

Double Union is a great spot for reading, coding, writing, making art/crafts, or for quiet coworking. The space is an ADA-compliant street-level room, about 775 square feet, with a mini-kitchen and a bathroom. There are couches, tables, and chairs that members frequently reconfigure to fit the needs of workshops and events.

We carefully try to minimize risk of COVID-19 transmission by having mask and vaccination requirements, air purifiers, and a CO2 monitor to help us ensure good ventilation. See summary here.

DU members host a wide variety of events in our space (you can see photos and announcements of past events on Instagram). Some events we’ve hosted include: feminist book club, game nights, mending workshops, working on income taxes together, researching ballot items to prepare for voting, lockpicking workshops, and circuit hacking.

Members have joined our community for a variety of reasons. DU might be for you if you:

Have a small living space and are interested in having an alternative space to spread out while working on creative projects.

Are new to the area and are interested in finding a place to work on and talk about shared interests with new people.

Work remotely and are interested in an alternative to working at home or coffee shops.

Are job searching (including under/unemployed) and may be interested in collaborating with other people who are also job searching.

Just want to meet people or make stuff for any reason.

Equipment and materials

Besides events, members can visit the space at any time to use the shared tools and equipment. Inside the space, Double Union’s equipment includes:

sewing machines, serger, coverstitch machine, large ironing board

Glowforge laser cutter

black-and-white and color printers

adjustable-height sit-or-stand desks and adjustable office chairs

standard tools like: drills, files, saws

two 3D printers

Silhouette Cameo vinyl cutter

Roland CNC machine

screen printing items (exposure unit, large paper cutter, screens, squeegees, drying rack)

library with a focus on books on: programming, design, how-to/DIY, feminism, zines

mini kitchen (sink, microwave, electric kettle, refrigerator and freezer)

big paper cutter, lots of paper, long stapler for zinemaking

We purchase additional equipment and tools according to member interest.

How much does it cost to be a member?

Double Union is a volunteer-run non-profit. Dues are sliding scale: $10 to $100 per month (you choose what to pay based on your financial situation, and you can change the amount whenever you need to). We also offer scholarships ($0 dues) for members who can't afford to pay. We use Stripe to automatically process credit/debit cards.

How to apply

Go to https://www.doubleunion.org/membership and click on the pink “Apply to join” button!

After clicking the button, the next page will ask a few questions about you and your interest in DU. We don’t make decisions based on accomplishments, interest in tech, or income level, but we’d like to know who we’d be sharing our space with.

As part of the application process, we would like applicants to have met at least one current DU member, so if you haven’t met some already (such as at past events), try to meet members (such as by attending an upcoming DU public event). We plan to respond to your application within six weeks or sooner.

Here are some upcoming events open to prospective members

Please feel free to come by if you’ve applied for membership or are interested in applying. The address, directions and other details are here: https://www.doubleunion.org/visit

Saturday February 4th, 11-2 pm - Mending time: bring your clothes and socks with holes or rips

Sunday February 5th, 1-4 pm - Have fun with stamps and markers: Make a card (or cards) for someone.

Saturday February 18th, 11-2 pm - Make your own fridge magnets using our laser cutter

There will be more upcoming events announced on this blog, our announcements mailing list,  Instagram, and Twitter!

Have questions?

Email the membership coordinators: join@doubleunion.org - we’re happy to help.

[regalokitchen8130]

Learn All About Modular Kitchen Layouts

Sorce of Info: https://www.regalokitchens.com/modular-kitchen-in-chandigarh.php

Introduction

Discover a selection of modular kitchen layouts and turn your cooking area into an attractive and luxurious kitchen to work in. Modular cooking areas come in a variety of styles that can match any area, from small city flats to big family homes. Find out how these layouts can improve the functionality and beauty of your kitchen, as well as why Regalo Kitchens is the go-to expert for designing the perfect kitchen.

Understanding Modular Kitchen Layouts

A modular kitchen plan is an architectural structure that combines many already made sections or modules to create a useful and effective kitchen area. These arrangements save space, provide flexibility, and make every part easily reachable. Kitchens with modular design are built using standard parts such as cabinets, worktops, and appliances, which can be assembled in a range of ways based on specific requirements.

Popular Modular Kitchen Layouts

L-Shaped Layout

The L-shaped kitchen plan ranks as one of the most popular. It has cupboards and appliances positioned on two nearby walls, creating a 'L' shape. This style is perfect for smaller spaces since it improves corner areas while maintaining an open floor plan. The L-shaped design creates a functional work triangle between the sink, stove, and refrigerator, making meal preparation easier.

U-Shaped Layout

The U-shaped modular kitchen concept includes cupboards and equipment placed along three walls. This style is excellent for bigger kitchens, since it gives enough counter space and storage. The U-shaped arrangement creates an effective work triangle and allows many different work sections, making it excellent for families that spend a lot of time cooking together.

Parallel Layout

In a parallel kitchen that can be planned, storage units and appliances are organized on two parallel walls. This style is great for small kitchens, providing an organized workstation. The parallel arrangement puts everything within arm's reach, making it perfect for cooking and cleaning duties.

Island Layout

The island modular kitchen concept has a center island unit that can be used as additional counter space, storage, or a relaxed eating area. This style is perfect for open-plan houses, allowing family members to connect while cooking. The island can be customized with appliances, a sink, or even a small seating space.

Galley Layout

The galley kitchen arrangement is made up of two parallel runs of cabinets and equipment, connected by a center walkway. This design is functional and makes the best use of limited space in small kitchens. The galley arrangement makes everything easily accessible and supports effective workflow across kitchen zones.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Modular Kitchen Layout

Space Availability

Before deciding on a modular kitchen arrangement, look at the available space in your kitchen. The arrangement should make the best use of available space, whether it's a small apartment kitchen or a large open-plan room. Regalo Kitchens provides customized solutions to make sure that every inch of your kitchen is maximized. 

Functionality

Consider how you use your kitchen every day. If you cook regularly, you might want a plan that has enough counter space and storage. If you host visitors often, an island or open-plan design might be better suited. Regalo Kitchens can help you create a kitchen that matches your lifestyle and improves your cooking experience.

Budget

Kitchens with modular design are available in a variety of budgets. Choose your budget before deciding on a plan to make sure you receive the greatest value for your money. Regalo Kitchens provides affordable alternatives without losing quality, allowing you to create a dream kitchen within your budget.

Why Choose Regalo Kitchens?

Regalo Kitchens specializes in creating modular kitchen layouts that are stylish, functional, and innovative. Our skilled staff interacts with you to fully understand your needs and create a kitchen that surpasses your expectations. Here's why you should select Regalo Kitchens:

Expertise and Experience

Regalo Kitchens has years of industry expertise and a track record of producing high-quality modular kitchens. Our experience promises that every detail of your kitchen design will be completed with quality and attention.

Innovative Designs

Our staff is up to date on the newest trends and developments in modular kitchen design. We provide innovative solutions that include the most recent technology and design concepts, guaranteeing that your kitchen is both fashionable and practical.

Customer Satisfaction

Customer satisfaction is our main focus. Regalo Kitchens believes in providing excellent service and making sure each client is completely satisfied with their new kitchen. We take pleasure in our work and try to surpass your expectations throughout the design and installation process.

Conclusion

Modular kitchen layouts provide a variety of possibilities for serving different needs and tastes. Whether you choose an L-shaped, U-shaped, parallel, island, or galley plan, Regalo Kitchens will help you design a kitchen that accomplishes your demands and improves your lifestyle. Our knowledge, customized solutions, and efforts to quality make sure your kitchen is both attractive and useful. Contact Regalo Kitchens now to begin your path to the perfect functional kitchen.

[shaikpet]

Your Dream Home Awaits Here: Flats for Sale in Shaikpet Hyderabad

Step into a world where modern design meets everyday convenience. Located in the prime neighborhood of Jubilee Hills Extension, these flats for sale in Shaikpet Hyderabad redefine the meaning of contemporary living. Designed to suit families and professionals, these homes offer luxurious spaces, world-class amenities, and unbeatable connectivity to the city’s hotspots.

Life at the Center of Everything

Shaikpet is more than a neighborhood—it’s a lifestyle hub. Living in these apartments in Shaikpet Hyderabad places you within arm’s reach of everything you need.

Shopping Made Easy: Just 2 minutes away, find top destinations like D-Mart, Reliance Mart, and eateries like McDonald's and Karachi Bakery.

Top-Notch Schools and Hospitals: Quality education and healthcare are always nearby, with institutions like Delhi Public School and Care Hospital within a short drive.

Entertainment & Landmarks: Spend weekends at Qutub Shahi Tombs, enjoy conventions at JRC Trade Fairs, or indulge in a round of golf at the Hyderabad Golf Club.

Living in these flats in Shaikpet Hyderabad means experiencing the best of urban convenience and cultural heritage.

A Home That Reflects Your Style

Every inch of these apartments in Shaikpet Hyderabad is designed to offer comfort, elegance, and practicality.

Spacious Layouts: With 3BHK units ranging from 1700 to 2100 sq. ft., you’ll have plenty of room to create your dream space.

Premium Interiors: Enjoy Italian marble flooring in the living area, vitrified tiles in bedrooms, and wooden flooring in the master suite for a luxurious touch.

Modern Kitchens: Equipped with granite countertops, a stainless steel sink, and provisions for chimneys and water purifiers, these kitchens are both stylish and functional.

Luxurious Bathrooms: High-quality fixtures, hot and cold mixers, and provisions for geysers ensure a comfortable experience.

Amenities Tailored for Your Lifestyle

The best part of living in these flats for sale in Shaikpet Hyderabad is the access to premium amenities that enhance your day-to-day life.

Swimming Pool: A serene space to relax and unwind.

Fitness Center: Stay fit in a modern, air-conditioned gym.

Outdoor Activities: Jogging tracks, cycling paths, and an open-air gym encourage a healthy lifestyle.

Children’s Play Area: A safe and fun environment for kids to enjoy.

Community Hall: Perfect for gatherings and celebrations.

These features make these apartments in Shaikpet Hyderabad more than just homes—they’re a complete living experience.

A Smart Investment for Your Future

Buying a home in Shaikpet is more than owning property—it’s an investment in a growing, thriving community.

Ready to Move In: These flats are ready for immediate occupancy, so you can start your new chapter without delay.

High Growth Potential: Shaikpet’s strategic location and connectivity make it one of Hyderabad’s most promising real estate markets.

Close to Work Hubs: Professionals will appreciate the short commute to IT parks like Divyasree NSL Orion IT Park and Raheja IT Park.

Whether for living or investing, these flats in Shaikpet Hyderabad offer immense value.

Make Shaikpet Your Home

These flats for sale in Shaikpet Hyderabad aren’t just places to live—they’re spaces to grow, create memories, and build a future. With thoughtfully designed interiors, unmatched amenities, and a location that keeps you close to everything, these homes are perfect for families and individuals alike.

Don’t wait to find your dream home. Contact us today to schedule a visit and see what makes these apartments in Shaikpet Hyderabad so special.

#FlatsInShaikpetHyderabad

#ApartmentInShaikpet

#ApartmentsInShaikpetHyderabad

#FlatsForSaleInShaikpet

#ApartmentsForSaleInShaikpetHyderabad

#3BHKFlatsForSaleInShaikpetHyderabad

[tbcvinay123]

Sai Satyam Parkstreet Kalyan Khadakpada 2 & 3 BHK Project

Elite Living at Sai Satyam Homes: Codename Xclusive

Sai Satyam Homes Codename Xclusive is a distinctive and luxurious residential project nestled in the heart of Kalyan. With its thoughtfully designed living spaces, this development redefines modern living, offering an exceptional blend of comfort and convenience. Residents can relish the tranquility of this thriving neighborhood while enjoying the perks of a well-connected location. In every aspect, Codename Xclusive sets a new standard for elite living, providing a lifestyle that's truly exclusive.

Sai Satyam Homes Codename Xclusive, located in Kalyan, represents a dynamic residential community that presents contemporary living spaces within a well-connected and thriving neighborhood. These meticulously crafted homes seamlessly blend comfort, opulence, and convenience, ensuring that residents experience a harmonious and enriching lifestyle.

“Sai Satyam Homes Exclusive: Redefining Kalyan's Luxury Living”

Sai Satyam Khadakpada living of kalyan is more than just a residential project; it's a paradigm shift in modern living. This development seamlessly redefines spaces, luxury, and location. With meticulously designed homes that epitomize elegance, residents experience a lifestyle that's truly exclusive. Nestled in a thriving neighborhood, Xclusive Living harmoniously combines the allure of luxury with the convenience of a prime location, setting a new benchmark for sophisticated living in Kalyan."

"Sai Satyam Kalyan Homes is an exquisite residential project that seamlessly blends convenience and luxury for discerning homebuyers. This meticulously planned complex encompasses 231 units set amidst 1.08 acres of lush surroundings. The project features a range of 1BHK-2BHK apartments, spanning from 312 sqft to 460 sqft, catering to diverse living preferences.

What sets this project apart is its exceptional connectivity to key city destinations. It's conveniently located just a brief drive away from Kalyan Railway Station, offering ease of travel. Additionally, it enjoys a picturesque location alongside the serene Ulhas river, providing a tranquil ambiance. Access to Agra Road is effortless, making commuting hassle-free. To further enhance the quality of life for residents, the project includes a convenient shopping center that caters to daily needs, ensuring that everyday necessities are always within reach."

Why Choose Sai Satyam Homes?

Sai Satyam Homes is the ideal choice for those seeking an exceptional location. With a mere 2-minute walk to the nearest bus stop and a quick 10-minute drive to Kalyan Station, your commute is effortlessly convenient. Nearby malls offer shopping and entertainment options, while the proximity to St. Lawrence International School ensures quality education. The vicinity boasts an array of good restaurants for dining pleasure, and you're just 5 minutes away from a hospital and medical stores for your healthcare needs. To top it off, grocery stores are conveniently close by. Choosing Sai Satyam Xclusive Homes means embracing a well-connected and hassle-free lifestyle.

The apartments at Sai Park Kalyan offer a blend of luxury and functionality. Step into a lavish living room with attached balconies that provide a refreshing outdoor connection. The elegant bedrooms feature French windows that allow ample natural light, creating a cozy and inviting atmosphere. The luxury bathrooms are equipped with world-class sanitary ware, ensuring a comfortable and indulgent experience. The ultramodern kitchen, complete with a stainless steel sink, caters to your culinary needs. For added security and convenience, the apartments come with video-door phones and RFID digital locks on the main doors, offering peace of mind and modern living at its finest.

Unlocking Investment Potential at Sai Satyam Homes, Kalyan

Investing in Sai Satyam Homes, Kalyan, is a savvy move for those seeking an upgraded lifestyle. Its strategic location, impeccable design, and array of amenities provide a unique opportunity to enhance your quality of life. Whether for comfortable living or a sound investment, Sai Park Kalyan is an excellent choice. Don't miss the chance to be a part of this thriving community and enjoy modern living with convenience and luxury right at your doorstep.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Curieously for sending this gorgeous, beautifully converted boiler room in an 1886 building in Providence, Rhode Island. 3bds, 2ba, $795K + a total deal-breaking $544mo. HOA fee. (Now, why does the $35M home I posted yesterday have a $34HOA and this $795K condo has a $544HOA?) What could they possibly do for you to warrant an extra $6,528 yr.?

Alongside the entrance area is cozy little sitting space.

This incredible. They left all the old details that made it a once-creepy boiler room. I love it.

I even love the old poles with the exposed wires.

The kitchen isn't huge, but it has all the appliances. I don't need a big kitchen, as long as it's well-equipped and has storage.

The 3rd bedroom is in the loft, up the spiral stairs. The bed area is so cozy, but you could put a little reading nook or desk in there, and put the bed elsewhere.

I guess they have display items on top of the closet in the primary bedroom. This is a maximalist's home for sure.

Convenient laundry/utility closet. Look at that original door with the ceramic knobs.

Love the en-suite. There's a built-in shelf and another great old door.

Bedroom #2 is on the main floor.

The 2nd bath is beautiful with a cool toilet, pedestal sink and relaxing stylized soaker tub.

Judging by the 2 BBQ areas, the courtyard must be shared by 2 units, but this unit has the larger space.

Parking right outside the unit.

These double doors open to the dining area, and the main entrance is next to them in the arch.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/532-Kinsley-Ave-UNIT-112-Providence-RI-02909/242476231_zpid/

[itnseo101]

Upgrade Your Modular Kitchen with These 10 Ideas

Visit us:https://www.regalokitchens.com/blog/upgrade-your-modular-kitchen-with-these-10-ideas

You can transform your modular kitchen into an innovative, useful, and fashionable space with Regalo Kitchens. Discover 10 must-know details for your customized kitchen, ranging from simplifying your design to adding the newest equipment. In order to make sure that your kitchen not only matches but above your expectations, Regalo Kitchens will help you at every step. Their expertise and high-quality materials have earned them appreciation.

1.Plan Your Layout

Before making any changes, it's important to carefully think about the arrangement of your modular kitchen. Think about the classic kitchen work triangle, which places the sink, stove, and refrigerator all within easy reach of one another. This design simplifies tasks and guarantees a more effective cooking experience. Regalo Kitchens specializes in creating original designs which achieve a balance between space and functionality.

2. Choose High-Quality Materials

Investing in high-quality materials for your modular kitchen is important to its strength and longevity. Select materials that are resistant to heat, moisture, and damage. Regalo Kitchens offers a range of premium materials, like granite countertops, stainless steel fixtures, and solid wood cabinets, to make sure that your kitchen lasts for many years to come. 

3. Upgrade Your Storage Solutions

Effective storage is the basis of every well-designed modular kitchen. Consider installing pull-out shelves, corner units, and deep drawers to make use of the space you have available. You can continue doing your daily activities while keeping your kitchen clean and trash-free with Regalo Kitchens innovative storage solutions. 

4. Incorporate Modern Appliances

Modern appliances will improve the functionality of your kitchen and give it a cleaner appearance. Upgrade your old appliances with newer versions that include smart features and touch controls. Regalo Kitchens works with leading equipment manufacturers to provide you with the newest models that complement your kitchen's style.

5. Enhance Lighting

Proper lighting is necessary for both design and performance in a modular kitchen. Use a variety of highlight, natural, and task lighting combinations to produce a well-lit space. Under-cabinet lighting can light up your surfaces, and pendant lights can provide a stylish centerpiece. Regalo Kitchens can help you in designing a lighting plan that improves both the look and functionality of your kitchen.

6. Add a Kitchen Island

With a kitchen island, your modular kitchen may require a complete makeover. It provides more counter space, storage, and even a casual dining area. Regalo Kitchens crafts customized kitchen islands that complement your existing design while adding beauty and usefulness.

7. Opt for Sleek Cabinet Designs

The overall appearance of your kitchen is greatly affected by the cabinets. Select designs that are fresh, modern, and use simple forms and fittings. Regalo Kitchens offers a variety of cabinet styles and options, such as matte finishes and glossy laminates, so you can build a kitchen that represents your own style.

8. Focus on Ergonomics

The main goal of comfort is to create a kitchen that is both beautiful and simple to use. Ensure that storage choices are easily accessible, countertops are at the proper height, and appliances are positioned comfortably. Having a cozy kitchen that Regalo Kitchens has created to your specifications will make cooking and cleaning more enjoyable.

9. Incorporate a Backsplash

Adding a modern wall to your modular kitchen will improve its appearance right away. Choose easily maintained and cleaned materials, such as ceramic tiles, stainless steel, or glass. A range of wall alternatives from Regalo Kitchens may add texture and color to your kitchen without taking away from its attractive appearance.

10. Personalize Your Space

Your kitchen should reflect your personal style and sense of design. Use items like handcrafted components, decorative accessories, or unique cabinet knobs to add personal touches. Regalo Kitchens works closely with you to fully realize your idea and create a genuinely unique modular kitchen.

Why Choose Regalo Kitchens?

Your kitchen should reflect your personal style and sense of design. Use items like handcrafted components, decorative accessories, or unique cabinet knobs to add personal touches. Regalo Kitchens works closely with you to completely realize your idea and create a genuinely unique modular kitchen.

Expert Consultation

We begin by having a thorough conversation about your objectives, passions, and financial status. We provide expert advice on the best setup, components, and design for your space.

Custom Design

Each kitchen we create is unique and customized to your exact specifications. Using the newest software, our designers create 3D models so you can see your new kitchen before it is built.

Professional Installation

Our knowledgeable staff makes sure every little detail is correct, from exact measurements to perfect finishing. We take pride in our ongoing commitment to excellence and careful attention to detail.

After-Sales Support

Our work with you continues after your kitchen is installed. We offer ongoing support and maintenance services to keep your kitchen looking and functioning at its best.

Conclusion

A well-designed modular kitchen can increase the value of your home and greatly improve cooking. By combining these 10 concepts with Regalo Kitchens, you may create a beautiful and functional kitchen. Contact Regalo Kitchens right now to begin making progress achieving the most suitable kitchen design.

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Inspirational Modular Kitchen Concepts

source of info: https://www.regalokitchens.com/inspirational-modular-kitchen-concepts.php

Introduction

Regalo Kitchens offers inspiring modular kitchen ideas that will transform the kitchen surroundings. Our designs pair up performance and uniqueness, providing creative solutions designed to fulfill the requirements you have in mind. Regalo Kitchens offers customizable solutions that maximize space by improving your cooking experience, ranging from modern, trendy layouts to everlasting, traditional designs. Find the best combination of beauty with function to make your kitchen the focus of your house. Regalo Kitchens provides a kitchen with modular design that inspires and benefits your living.

1. Open Concept Kitchen

An open-concept modular kitchen mixes together easily with your living or dining space, providing an open and spacious feeling. This style is excellent for houses who value social interaction and hosting visitors. By removing barriers, the kitchen becomes a part of the living room, making it simpler to interact with family members or visitors while cooking. Regalo Kitchens' open-concept designs make sure your customized kitchen matches the rest of your home interior design.

2. Minimalist Kitchen

The idea that simplicity is the greatest quality can be seen in a simple modular kitchen. Clean lines, softened colors, and clean areas define this idea, which focuses on performance and usefulness. The clean, organized form of cabinets and storage units removes any unnecessary parts. Regalo Kitchens provides a selection of space-saving simple layouts that however appear modern and stylish.

3. Island Kitchen

An increasingly popular option for people who enjoy getting together and cooking is the movable kitchen island. The middle island functions as a multipurpose area for eating, socializing, and food preparation. It can also allow extra stoves, sinks, or storage units. This design increases productivity during workflow in addition to improving the kitchen's overall attractiveness. Regalo Kitchens specializes in building unique, modular island kitchens that can be customized to your tastes and requirements.

4. L-Shaped Kitchen

A classic and flexible design that works in both small and big areas is the L-shaped modular kitchen. This layout makes good use of two neighboring walls to give extra counters and storage space. Also, it decreases the space required between the refrigerator, stove, and sink allowing for an effective work triangle. Our L-shaped designs at Regalo Kitchens are made to maximize space and improve usefulness, which will improve your cooking experience.

5. U-Shaped Kitchen

The U-shaped modular kitchen is a great option for people who need the most counter and storage space. With the use of three walls, this design creates a U-shaped workplace with lots of storage spaces. Large families or passionate cooks who require lots of space for meal preparation and appliance storage will find it perfect. U-shaped kitchens that are both practical as well as beautiful are a specialty of Regalo Kitchens.

6. Galley Kitchen

A walk-in between two parallel counters characterizes the galley modular kitchen, sometimes referred to as a parallel kitchen. Perfect for small to medium-sized houses, this design is highly effective. Professional chefs love it because it makes sure that all of the necessary equipment and workplaces are easily accessible. Galley kitchens that are maximum effective without losing style are what we offer at Regalo Kitchens.

7. Modular Kitchen with Breakfast Nook

Adding a breakfast corner to your modular kitchen provides a warm and welcoming area for relaxed meals. It's perfect for easy meals, morning coffee, or providing a cozy area for youngsters to finish their schoolwork. A breakfast nook can be simple to build into your customized kitchen with the help of Regalo Kitchens' creative designs, creating a warm and inviting space for your family.

8. High-Tech Kitchen

The high-tech modular kitchen has grown in popularity as smart technology has been available. The concept combines innovative lighting systems, intelligent storage options, and appliances. Comfort and effectiveness are increased by features like automatic lighting, touchless faucets, and smart freezers. High-tech functional kitchen designs that are attractive to tech-savvy homeowners are how Regalo Kitchens remain ahead of the trend.

9. Vintage-Inspired Kitchen

The retro-inspired modular cooking area balances basic usefulness with traditional design features for individuals who enjoy an element of memory. A pleasant and classic kitchen is created with traditional equipment, historic cabinets, and classic color schemes. Regalo Kitchens creates practical, accessible, vintage-inspired kitchens that perfectly combine between the past and modern styles.

10. Eco-Friendly Kitchen

The eco-friendly modular kitchen uses eco-friendly materials and energy-saving appliances to fulfill the growing problem of the environment. A green kitchen might include recycled worktops, bamboo cabinetry, and LED lighting, to name a few components. By providing carbon-free customizable kitchen designs that don't sacrifice appearance or usefulness, Regalo Kitchens is committed to strengthening the environment.

Conclusion

Your home's appearances are improved and your cooking experience becomes more enjoyable with a well-designed modular kitchen. Offering a wide range of customizable kitchen designs that fulfills a variety of desires and preferences is something we at Regalo Kitchens are proud of. Our skilled staff will develop your idea whether you want a high-tech system, a simple look, or a design with a vintage feel. At Regalo Kitchens, innovation and beauty mix to create a setting that will inspire you to cook.