#You have to love that the 'but on a tuesday' comes up automatically now

[maribat-media]

Maribat Media Poll Sunday Tuesday

At this point, it's a flip of a coin as to whether the polls want to happen on Sunday or Tuesday. They have a mind of their own.

There is no right or wrong answer to this one!

Leave your thoughts and start up the conversation. If you liked more than one option, say so! If you had an idea not present, share it out!

As they say, "April Showers bring May Flowers", so perhaps some new things will pop up then bloom in the fandom.

Happy Creating everyone! Hopefully the showers of April have not washed you away yet. Ride out the storm for there is beauty on the horizon.

[bunny-1111]

I love love love your writing! I was just re-reading “Theodore Nott who…” and possibly wondered if you could expand on how he reminds reader that he will propose when they are finished school. Kicking my legs giggling thinking about that 😂

Aww, thank you. Of course, I can. Let me know if you have any other requests!! PS I wrote a whole thing, ready to push post now. It was perfect, but something happened, and it didn't save, so I had to rewrite it the best I could, I hope you enjoy this anyway AH I'M SO MAD 🥲,

...

Theodore, at age 11, thought you were the prettiest girl in school

Theodore, at age 13, began to navigate his not-so-small crush on you

Theodore, at age 16, felt his heart in his stomach as he swallowed his pride and finally asked you out

That is where our story starts.

By 17, you got comfortable enough and started spending the night in each other's dorms; one random Tuesday morning, Theo woke up earlier than usual, you were still fast asleep. Theodore was a very productive person. If he woke up early, he would get up, make a coffee, go for a run around the grounds, come back, and shower, all before most had even opened their eyes. As he reached for the corner of his side of the blanket and moved to start his day, you felt him, causing you to stir, your brows quickly scrunching, your body automatically moving towards him; you reached for him even in sleep. Something in his mind slowed, something in his heart raced, something in his soul shook. Dropping the blanket in his hand, he surrendered to you, laying so close, gently caressing your face, feeling peace in your dream state. Then it dawned on him, if I married her, this would be the last face I would see before I slept and the first I would see when I woke up.

That's when it began.

His constant reminders of marriage.

That very morning.

When your eyes fluttered open, Theos wide eyes already met yours, it would've scared you in his eyes weren't so dreamy.

"Good morn-" you start

"Marry me" he interrupted

"What?!" you laughed out. It was too early for this

"Marry me?" he smiled

"shut up" you laughed, reaching your hand under your pillow, softly throwing it at him

"Come on, why not?" he pleaded

"Theodore, we're still in high school, that's why", you smile

"Fine, you fucking time waster, but after we get out of here, I'm gonna marry you", he insisted

You thought it was a passing thought.

Something he wouldn't bring up again.

Boy, were you wrong, he proved that time and time again over the next two years.

Sitting in class, he would peck a kiss on your cheek from behind you. "Kisses for the Mrs" he would whisper with a smile before returning to his own seat

In the great hall, he slapped Matteo's hand away as you and he both reached for the same dish. "Can't you see my fiance wants that slice?" he grits, serving you before Matteo puts it on his own plate. "You aren't fucking engaged?" A defeated Matteo retorts, arms out in confusion. "Don't start", you apologise on behalf of you and your pretend husband

In Hogsmeade, you and Pansy tried on dresses. Theodore was walking past when he saw you in the mirror. Letting himself in, he slithered behind you, his reflection joining yours in the mirror, slipping a hand down your waist. "You know, if you look this good in this dress, I can only imagine how good you'd look in white," he'd smirk, "you know when we get married," he muttered on his way to the register, leaving money, giving the workers strict instructions to charge him for any dress you bought, for them to keep the change too.

When Theodore had early morning Quittich practice, he would leave a steaming cup of coffee or tea on your bedside, accompanied by a note: " To keep you warm while I'm gone, good morning, my better half, Mrs Nott."

When you studied in the libary, you had a very distinct look of focus. He would lay a bored hand on his face, "Come on, let's go for a smoke", he whined, "No, Theodore, We have final exams soon. You should be studying. Go without me if you want" you explain, fingers pointing at text on his book, "not going without you" he said frustrated under his breath. Theodore kept testing, blabbing nonsense, attempting to distract you, staring at you instead of the open books. "Why are we wasting time? You could be pregnant by now," he said, his free hand twirling your hair. This caused you to slam your book closed, looking up at him, your eyes widening. "What!?" he laughed. "If I had it my way, we would've tied the knot last year, and we would have a kid on the way", he continued; you did nothing but shake your head and fight your growing smile.

Walking through the gardens, you pointed at some hydrangeas. "My favourite flowers" you smiled. "I know" he smiled "I'd walk down the aisle with hydrangeas in my hand," you say softly, leaning in to smell the flowers, "When we get married, I will" you say picking some to take with you. Theodore could've fainted on the spot. 'When we get married,' your voice repeated in his mind, pulling you up into a deep kiss

When you finally graduated, Theodore pulled your father aside. If there was something Teddy valued, it was tradition; he was officially asking for your hand.

Returning to you, smiling ear to ear, he suggests you join him on a walk. Reaching the tree near the Black Lake, he kissed your forehead, one hand intertwined with yours, the other hand in his pocket, fidgeting with a small box.

A box containing a ring.

That he had bought on the year prior, now all that was left to do was kneel.

unedited today, sorry for any incorrection I'm too tired to reread or edit rn LOL

in my mind me and teddy r married

him in a suit KILL ME NOW one chance PLS

[laurfilijames]

Worst Way

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mention of mutual masturbation/video call sex. Unprotected intercourse. Will in that polo shirt.

Summary: Will comes home from doing a stint of talks and his only priority is getting his fill of you, your time apart making him need you in the worst way.

A/N: I've been listening to this song on repeat and needed to write about it, and the character I felt that fit it the best was our Captain Miller. We'll consider this a little early birthday treat to myself, I was going to wait until Tuesday to post it but I'm too excited! A big thank you to @spaghettificationandpretzels for making me the beautiful banners to use!

---

In the grand scheme of things, five days was a blink compared to the amount of days he’d been away from you before, but as he drew closer to being home, Will’s impatience to get there was becoming nearly unbearable.

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, the leather feeling cool to his palm that was hot from his eagerness and holding it in the same spot for too long now, glancing at his watch on his wrist where he calculated he had exactly two hours and fifty-three minutes left until he would pull in the driveway.

Each day had been the same; driving from base to base all along the coast from Tampa to Houston, waking up in an uncomfortable motel bed he tried hard not to think about how many other people had laid in doing god knows what, and giving his memorized speech to a different room full of candidates considering signing on to be part of the Special Forces.

It was all automatic by now, having said the same words one hundred and ninety-two times, his mind able to drift off to what you were doing as he spoke without a second thought, wondering if you were making coffee in the kitchen wearing just his hoodie and your underwear, or if you were cleaning the house, feeling jealous of your fingers grazing over every surface and all the belongings that made up your home.

He imagined your smile; greeting the cashier warmly as you placed groceries onto the belt from the cart, grinning as you said thank you to the older gentleman who held the door open for you as you left the store, and knowing he was so close to seeing it for himself again kept him hanging on to get through each long day without you.

Late night video calls and texts sent between lectures helped carry him through, feeling grateful to at least have that compared to what little communication he would have when he was deployed, a crooked grin tugging his lip up as he thought to your last video call from the night before; both of you laying naked in your separate beds, touching yourselves in ways that were instructed by the other, the sounds of your moans brought on by your own hand still repeating in Will’s mind now.

He adjusted in his seat, his right foot pressing on the accelerator with slightly more pressure, the need to get home and have you increasing to a level he couldn’t tolerate anymore than he already had.

Rain started speckling on the windshield, a few drops at first before turning into a steady fall, the streams of it on the glass reminding him of all the showers you had solo in his absence, feeling envious of the water running down your skin and every curve, imagining you slipping into your bedsheets with drops still clinging to you and marking the cotton with darker spots.

Will wondered if it was raining at home, too, if you were sitting on the porch watching it pour, always loving the sound of the rolling thunder and the tapping of each drop on the roof, or if the skies were clear as the sun started to go down, picturing the pinkish-orange light casting on your skin to make it glow in its golden hour.

With a sigh, he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, accepting that no matter how much he continued to dream about you, it wouldn’t bring him any closer to home any faster, accepting that he had to live through each of these minutes in full until he was able to have his hands on you again.

With the sun now tucked behind the horizon and the ground saturated with water, Will slammed the door to his truck, leaving his bags in the back seat to get tomorrow, nothing more important than getting inside the house and getting his hands on you.

His boots ground against the wet pavement as he took purposeful strides to reach the front door, quickly inserting the key into the deadbolt and unlocking it, the smell of home and of you filling his nose as soon as he turned the handle and stepped inside.

Before he could close the door behind him, you walked around the corner from the hallway leading to your bedroom, your smile making his heart leap in his chest as you locked eyes with him.

You rushed into his arms, your body warm and soft, the feel of your hands carding up his back making goosebumps break out on his skin. You both peeled away from each other slightly, exchanging a look that spoke more than words could before crashing your lips together, a shared moan transferring between your mouths as the desperation you both felt finally set in.

Will kicked the door shut with his foot, making it slam so hard the walls shook, his hands tearing to get to your form that was covered by an oversized t-shirt and quickly discovering that was all you had on.

He growled against your lips, his hands squeezing your bare ass and spreading your cheeks slightly, feeling you press your hips forward into his in a silent request for more.

Your chest rubbed against his body, the tight fit of his polo allowing him to feel how hard your nipples were through both of your shirts, your arousal clearly having built up as much as his had in anticipation of his arrival.

He felt drunk with lust, his senses working primally as everything about you made him feral, your scent and touch breaking him down to be nothing more than a man who needed his woman in the most raw and cardinal way.

Will grabbed at the hem of your shirt and ripped it up and off of you, his hand gripping your jawline when he met you in another claiming kiss, hearing your breathy moan die out in his mouth.

He forced himself to stop, his chest heaving as he broke the seal of your lips, seeing yours already puffy from his beard chafing against them and wet from his kiss.

You looked heavenly standing before him; naked and stunning, equally as vulnerable as you were strong, your frame small in the shadow of his. But what made him feel powerful was the love and lust held in your eyes, your heavy gaze consenting for him to take you how he needed, knowing you craved him as much as he did you as you shifted on the spot you stood, squeezing your thighs together while arching your back so your chest stook out.

A crooked, half-smile dressed his lips as he took a step toward you again, backing you up against the wall and shoving his thigh between your legs, watching with complete satisfaction as you closed your eyes at the feel of your bare sex contacting the rough denim of his jeans.

He dipped his head and latched onto your neck, sucking and nipping at your tender skin, making you squirm against him and begin to ride his thigh, his hand slapping the painted drywall beside your head.

His fingers dug into the flesh on your hips with his other hand, clawing at you in a way he knew might leave bruises but that you also loved, aiding your movements on him as you ground back and forth.

“Will…” you whined, his name the only word uttered between you so far, the sound of it coming off your tongue so desperately in combination with how your hands clawed at his shoulders encouraging him to kiss your neck even more and press his leg up harder against your core.

His mouth traveled upward along your throat and under your chin, pulling your earlobe with his teeth before making his way back to your lips, growling when your hands ran over his straining cock in his jeans and then tugged at his shirt to untuck it from his waist.

He lifted his arms for you to whisk it over his head, returning to your mouth instantly while your soft hands smoothed over his bare chest, his skin feeling like it was lit on fire wherever your palms had laid.

You worked next on his belt, the sound of the metal clanking undone and then his zipper sliding open almost lost in the wet smack of your lips, your fingers sliding behind his back to pull his jeans along with his boxer-briefs down over his ass. They fell at his feet and he stepped out of them as quickly as he could, holding your face in his hands to try to keep you near him, but feeling you sink away from him as you dropped to your knees.

The look in your eyes as you stared up at him made his cock throb even more, and when you took it in your hand and stroked it while bringing your lips to the tip, he knew he couldn’t go a second longer without being inside you, having you take him in your mouth not even enough to sate his need.

Will knelt in front of you, grabbing your face again as he kissed you hard, leaning his body forward to guide you back to lay you down beneath him.

Spread out beautifully for him, he covered you, his cock finding your entrance without assistance, and with the slight movement of his hips, he pushed inside your wet hole and stretched you out.

Your cry was suffocated by his tongue, your back arching off the floor as you succumbed to his size, and Will allowed no time for you to adjust, pulling out of you before slamming back in again.

His thrusts were powerful and unbroken, determined to give you everything you needed while taking from you everything he could, his pleasure controlling all of him and blinding any restraint he had left.

You met him with equal fervor, rolling your hips with his with a similar goal in mind, chasing what only he could provide you, feeling you get wetter by the second and already soaking his dick and groin.

Will held onto you tight, nearing his end, his hands grabbing at any part of you he was able to keep you as close to him as he could while he hammered into you, your cunt clenching around him in a way he knew that signalled you were about to come apart too.

Your nails scratched his back wildly, muscles tensing and straining in both of your bodies as you rode through your climaxes, Will continuing to pump in and out of you frantically as he coated your walls and filled you completely.

Feeling you contract around him again, he didn’t relent, fucking you more with all he had left as a second orgasm took hold of you, the feel of his cum leaking out of you extending your high in the most addicting way.

His panting breaths filled your mouth as your kisses began to slow, feeling you relax under him as he settled his pace until he eventually stilled in you, his hand smoothing over your forehead where he looked at you smiling sweetly at him after he’d peeled his face away from yours.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purred, finally giving you a proper greeting.

You giggled softly, your finger tracing the crease beside his mouth. “Welcome home, Will.”

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi

[ssivinee]

I have a request if you're accepting or like idea or thought 🫠 what if like the reader is a member of a kpop group like le sserafim or ive something, and she got casted at swf2 and she's either in team jam republic or team bebe, and the reader is in a relationship with bada lee like that's not a secret, and then bada got jealous of the reader being close with other people or like haechi or redlic something tysm btw i'm fan of your fanfics like gurl you're so good as in !!! 😭🫶🏻

✧Blue Envy✧

BEBE! Bada Lee x Le sserafim! F Reader: You were a Japanese member of the world-renowned kpop group Le sserafim and were allowed to join the latest season of Street Woman Fighter. After finding out your girlfriend would be on the show, you gladly accept the offer, thinking you'd both enjoy it, yet Bada is caught off-guard at your new unwanted friend.

Word Count: 1.4k

Note: First anon req🤭. Something light before I knock out for the night lol. As of 9/24 my requests and taglist ARE open. (Check out Sivine’s files for anymore information, pinned post)

Character Vision Board

Being one of the top idols right now made you understandably busy, so people were surprised at the announcement of you joining Street Woman Fighter 2 while preparing for the Asia Tour. You are THE Nakajima Y/n of Lesserafim. Everyone in the kpop scene knew you or knew of you. You were among the few with prior dance training in the industry before becoming an idol.

Specifically being advanced in Contemporary dance.

That's what you were known for. I mean, your group had the most background variety compared to all the 4th gen groups. The fimmies had a ballerina, an opera singer, a J-pop idol, a dance academy student, two ex-izone members, and a modern dancer.

You were also the second oldest of the team, holding a motherly reputation in the public eye. Regardless of this persona, everyone knew you had; Bada had met you in your youthful, energetic, and lively state.

The two of you had met through Aespa, being friends with them since you were a trainee at SM Entertainment many years ago. It was a Tuesday in March, and you had decided to visit the girls preparing for their next comeback with 'Girls.'

When you come in, Ningning automatically introduces you to their teacher, Bada. The two of you quickly hit it off, bonding over dancing and your experiences, which led to you two dating 5 months later.

This was revealed to the public a month after being official, but you were okay with it. It made you and Bada happy, not needing to hide that the two were very much together and so in love.

So why the hell was this happening right in front of her face?

It all started when you came in with your girls from Jam Republic. You were called for a meeting 2 months before the show and were told that Jam Rebuplic Agency was allowing you to become the 6th woman of their group. There was no way you'd deny that offer, so you met the girls and bonded as a crew.

During filming, it was time for every group to enter the fight zone, Jam Republic being the last to enter. When entering, Ling's arms stuck onto your waist as the two of you had become insanely closer the past few weeks.

Bada stares at you with stars in her eyes. She told you how gorgeous you were every day, no matter how you looked in the moment, but seeing you in this baby pink outfit had her soul crying out to you.

Your participation in the show caused chaos for other groups. You were a celebrity, an idol, a model, a dancer, a singer, and everything in between. Nakajima Y/n was the talk of the town, and you didn't mind it one bit. Not even sparing a glance at other teams.

Bada didn't mind either. I mean, she loved the attention her girlfriend got. It was an ego booster for her since she got you first and knew no one could take you away. She was just lucky to have you, emotionally and physically.

As people discussed your presence and life story, this brought up your relationship with Bada. Would the course of the show be affected by this? How would people feel about a couple being on two different teams? Was Y/n or Bada happy about the situation?

Those were questions that cycled through everyone's head yet were left unanswered.

After introducing everyone and changing clothes, you had already participated in two no-respect battles, enjoying every moment you could when grooving your body. Bada watched every move and reaction, wanting to hold you when your eyes went wide or kiss you when you pouted.

You would cling to Audrey, who hugs you back, leaning into your body. Ling would squish your face every time your reactions were over the top. Your own leader would pat your waist or butt for motivation, while Latrice and Emma always found ways to make you laugh. Your significant other smiles at your friendship with the girls, adorning the happiness that spreads across your face.

Seems like she wasn't the only one admiring, though.

After a few more battles, it was Wolf'Lo Haechi Wang's turn. She looks around teasingly but walks before Jam Republic and asks you to step out. You bow at the woman, trying to come down from your seat, but before you can come down yourself, Haechi gives you a hand, guiding you to the dance floor. You allowed her, yet hold confusion on your face.

Have you ever seen a contestant on any other season helping a competitor this way? Nope. That's precisely what Bada thought.

Bada's brows furrow at Haechi's motion. This was a competition, so why was she being way too nice to you? She understood that you were pretty and people would flirt with you, mostly when they thought you were single, but this angered her. Haechi must've been aware of your relationship, especially after everyone talked about it, AND this was going on live television. Did Haechi just wanna fight Bada at this point? Because that's how your girlfriend begins to interpret it.

As you were the challenger, Heachi goes first. Showing off the years of experience Wolf'Lo had in freestyle, she represented them well. The swaggy, hip-hop, energetic vibe set the tone for the battle.

Haechi got exceptionally touchy with you as she moved around, tugging on your shirt, signaling your thighs when the song talked about desirable legs, body rolling very close to your body. You laughed at many of the girl's tricks, believing it was just to give everyone a good show.

Once it was your turn, you removed your shoes and began dancing with extreme feeling and emotion. Due to your style of dance, the performance turned suggestive really fast. Contemporary had a lot of eye contact, floor work, body rolls, and storytelling, so Haechi thoroughly enjoyed the show.

Bada didn't even pay attention to the taller dancers' reaction. Her lover was dancing, and that's all she could focus on. Everything was going fine until the judges showed you winning for your team by 2:1.

Heachi congratulated you, but due to your height differences, her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in as you leaned more on the tips of your toes. She then whispers something in your ear, and your ear grows red. This doesn't go unnoticed by your girlfriend, who currently had her knuckles growing red due to the tight fist she was making at the sight of you two.

That's what Bada's predicament was right now.

Jam Republic and Wolf'Lo sat beside each other, so many interactions arose. Heachi figured out how nice it was to talk to you. Your voice was soft and mellow, and you made jokes, portraying your personality more. Haechi grew fond of you quickly, having many side conversations during every no-respect battle.

Bada could only watch from the sidelines, almost wanting to rip Haechi's head off.

She wasn't one to ever be jealous, especially since the two of you had fans calling you one of the greatest couples. Yet she gets annoyed and frustrated thinking of how Heachi is similar to her.

Both were tall, had a sense of humor, and attracted women more than intended... it was off-putting for Bada.

So, during the break, Bada uses the bathroom but returns to the most unpleasant sight. You and Haechi were speaking to each other, Haechi leaning on the wall, towering over your body. Your innocent giggles can be heard from afar, and Bada is strangling her water bottle.

While talking, the taller girl begins playing with your hair, tucking it behind your ear and this set off Bada into a frenzy. She grabs your wrists and drags you into the bathroom.

"Bada, what the hell?" You say, a little louder than intended, due to the pain in your wrist from the pull. "Can you not?"

You stood there confused, "Not what?"

"Talk to that fucker, Haechi?"

The confusion turns into a playful grin with a raised brow. This was a new look on your girlfriend, which definitely amused you. "Is my baby jealous?" You tease the woman as your arms pull her in by the waist.

Bada sulks at your question, and you giggle, eyes never leaving hers.

"There's nothing to be jealous of? You're mine, and I'm yours, remember?" You peck her cheek and give her a secure hug. You hear her sigh, and you pull away to caress her face.

Bada closes her eyes at your touch, feeling relieved and calmer than a few minutes ago.

"How about you and I watch a movie after all this?" You ask, lightly sweeping her bangs to see her eyes clearly. "With cuddles and kisses?" Bada's eyes glimmer as she questions you, causing you to chuckle and nod at how cute she can be.

"Of course, you'll have your kisses and cuddles."

[badasmuse]

“BeBe’s Bodyguard”

Team Bebe x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of a knife, mentions of a stabbing, cute ending tho, language, lowercase intended (you already know)

Summary: you’re bebe’s bodyguard. what could possibly go wrong?

“sowon and chaeyoung can you two please stop running off?” you ask. it’s not really a question but you’re trying. they’ve been disappearing for the past twenty minutes.

“oops sorry y/n-nim!” sowon says bowing.

you’ve been their bodyguard for a long time. you automatically became close because you’re the only female bodyguard they have. they trusted you immensely.

“just stay in the area. i don’t want anything happening to you.” you say standing behind them as they looked for things.

moments later, the others walked up with the other three bodyguards on duty.

“y/n!!” bada says excitedly. she pulls you into her and steps back. “look at what i bought.”

“i will when we get in the car bada.” you say pushing her items back into her bag. “head count i only see six.”

“i’m behind you!” you hear tatter’s sweet voice say.

“all of you are gonna be on punishment.” you mumble making sure they’re all good before walking towards the mall exit.

you take your place up front next to bada. sad to say, she is the more popular one of the seven, so fans tend to rush after her. they rush all the girls, don’t get me wrong, but recently they’ve been rushing bada a lot more due to her girl crush concept blowing up. so bada now has two guards on her whole the other two guards stand in the middle and at the end of the line.

“y/n,” bada says looking up, “i bought you something too!” she says excitedly.

“that’s sweet bada.” you say pushing her hands back down gently. “show me in the car.” you say again.

you can see a crowd when you get to the door, some people are next to the van. “alright girls, hold onto the person in front of you. don’t step out of line.”

“aye aye captain!”

“lusher..” you groan before grabbing onto bada as your coworker opens the door for you.

“bada! bada you’re so cool!”

“oh my gosh bada unnie you’re so pretty!”

“minah i love you!

“tatter your hair looks so good!”

“lusher unnie we missed you!”

the comments come fast as you hold onto bada’s waist and gently push through the crowd.

you get about three feet from the van when you see them. some fan, maybe a fake fan, comes running right towards bada. since her head is down, bada doesn’t see it. she just feels your grip tighten and being pulled to the other side.

you grab the fan quickly, safely dropping her to the ground. the fan tries to get out of your hold and you feel something scratch at your arm. you ignore it trying to calm her down.

the other guards get the girls in the car, shutting the door before helping you with the person you have pinned.

“y/n you’re bleeding.” one says.

you look at your arm then down at the girl's hand, noticing the knife she has. “oh what the fuck.” you say.

she’s quickly disarmed and you walk to the van getting in with the girls and huffing.

“what’s wrong y/n?” kyma asks.

“she cut me. i can’t see it. is this bad?” you turn your arm towards the girls and they gasp.

“y/n that’s a lot of blood!” lusher exclaims grabbing tissues. “you might need stitches that’s really deep.”

after the situation is over and everyone’s in the van, the girls are quickly brought back to their respective homes and you’re taken to a nearby hospital. doctors told you to take it easy for a few days so you did. you spent a week in your little apartment recovering. of course the girls sent you plenty of messages saying how they missed you. (especially bada. she sent messages back to back like she was bangchan on bubble- but let’s not get into that.)

you were excited to be back at work. you missed the girls and their antics. they didn’t know when you were coming back and they definitely didn’t think it would be today.

it was tuesday, so team bebe were at the studio practicing. you quietly open the door and peak your head in.

“lusher you’re doing it wrong!” bada stresses.

“no i’m not! i’m doing it like everyone else, you're wrong!” she says back.

“do it again from the top.” bada plays the music and watches in the mirror as everyone dances. lusher was right, bada was wrong.

“told you!”

“whatever. let’s keep going.” she grumbles.

“oh bada,” you say stepping in, “that’s not nice. apologize to lusher.”

“y/n!!!” the girls exclaim rubbing towards you. you immediately put your injured arm up then gently let it down around them.

“are you back? we missed you so much!! bada has been mean the whole time you were gone.” kyma speaks up.

you make eye contact with bada as she sulks against the mirror. she turns the other way without saying anything. “why don’t you girls take a break so i can talk to bada.” you whisper. they nod and make their way out the door.

“hi bada.” you say approaching her.

“i was worried.” she says, still looking away.

“i texted you everyday. why were you being mean to my kids?”

bada doesn’t respond. she pouts looking down at the ground. you put your finger under her chin raising her head, “i asked a question.”

her face turns red and she clears her throat, “y/n i like you. oh that is not what i wanted to say.” she says covering her mouth.

“babe it was painfully obvious. that doesn’t answer why you’ve been mean to the kids. did not seeing me everyday throw you off?”

she nods.

“that’s cute. you owe them a big apology. give them the day off then let me take you out.” you say leaning on the mirror.

“you… wanna take me out? okay.” she giggles walking towards the door. she opens it and the six kids fall to the floor.

“h-hi!” they stutter.

you shake your head, “kids.”

Taglist (open! comment to be added!): @waveartistry @sun-nyy @yngtort @jennamc75 @m0r0s1111 @seungxstar @badasbebe @lil-elliesgf @currentfications

a/n: this was a request! hope you like it! i have frostbite guys🧍🏽frostbite on my thumbs and pinkies, four more requests, and eight things i’m trying to write. idk what i’m going to do. send help. pls.

[honeycomb-fics]

“H-Hey! Sai.. wait up. It’s crowded!” You shouted after your friend pushing through the crowd of people. Once you got close to Saitama you gripped the hem of his shirt, nervous the two of you might get separated again. 

The two of you were making your way to one of your favorite cafes that served the most adorable themed meal sets for different holidays and events. Typically they booked out weeks in advance but you were able to snag a spot for Valentine’s Day. You bumped into your friend’s back when he stopped walking abruptly. 

“You’re going to wrinkle my shirt,” Saitama looked down at your hand grabbing onto his shirt and grimaced, “I don’t need to hear Geno’s explain his entire steaming and ironing process to me again.”

He nonchalantly grabbed your hand and continued walking to the cafe. You felt your heart flutter at the sudden contact, you knew he was only doing so you didn’t get lost in the crowd, but it still made your heart skip a beat to have your hand in his. You looked up at him momentarily to see him scanning the masses of couples around the two of you in the shopping plaza.

“What the hell is going on? It’s a Tuesday.” Saitama complained, as he half dragged you along next to him. Seeming to forget in his irritation that his stride is a lot longer than yours, “They must be giving something away for free or something.”  

You let out an awkward laugh at his response, you knew it was a big ask getting him to go to these events with you. But you always paid for the meals and more often than not it seemed like Saitama actually took some enjoyment in seeing the cutesy food. He gave you a confused look and then simply shrugged continuing to walk closer to the restaurant. Your skin prickled as you looked around at the heart balloons in the streets, vendors selling bouquets of flowers.. Did Saitama not realize? .. No, no he had to know. 

Once the two of you were seated together for your reservation, your anxiety only grew. The atmosphere of the cafe was more romantic than usual, with hearts plastered on the windows, pink garland hanging for the ceiling. When the waitress came over, Saitama automatically told her that the two of you were just going to get whatever the special was since that’s why you were there anyway. 

Saitama leaned back in his chair casually, “Ah, I’m so hungry. I hope this special is good.” 

He impatiently flipped around the menu she had left ‘just in case’ before pausing slightly and looking around, “It’s Valentine’s Day today?” 

Immediately your stomach dropped as you looked across the table at your bald-headed friend. Your fears had come to fruition. You really had intended this to be a date for the two of you but it was becoming increasingly clear that Saitama didn’t get the memo, “I mean I did tell you the 14th when we made the plans but we don’t have to make a big deal about it..”

The two of you became distracted by a group of snickering teenage girls two tables down from you, their barely hushed conversation, floating easily over to your table. 

“Hey, doesn’t that guy kind of look like that Caped Baldy guy?” One girl loudly whispered pointing in Saitama’s direction. Your immediate response was to roll your eyes. It was still rare for people to recognize him, but often wasn’t taken very seriously. 

Another giggle followed, “I bet he had to beg for that date.” 

Not only was Saitama unaware that he was on a date, now he was being harassed by a group of kids on said date he did not agree to be on. Perfect, just how you wanted this to go, you put your head in your hands weighing the pros and cons of getting into a verbal argument with two teenagers. 

Your server finally returned after what felt like an eternity with the special. On the small table between you and Saitama laid a plate with ‘Fluffy Fluffy Heart Pancakes’ piled high with whipped cream and berries and next to that was a parfait cup containing the ‘Layers of Love’. 

“I—,” Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, feeling the need to backtrack and escape the pending rejection. “Sai, you know I love themed food events.. and I just..” 

“Are you going to take your picture of it or what?” Saitama shot you an impatient look, pointing at the pancakes. You usually warned him to not dig in immediately because you wanted a quick picture for social media, “I’m hungry and this whipped cream is melting.” 

Relieved to see Saitama was clearly unphased by the whole situation and still focused on getting on with the date, well not date, you grabbed your phone from your bag and snapped a few quick shots of the food. Not without remarking on how cute everything was. 

He grabbed a fork and started eating the pancakes, “And I like going to them with you. The Christmas one was fun,” between mouthfuls of food, “I would have agreed to a date, you know?” 

You pouted, grabbing a spoonful of sickenly sweet parfait, “I didn’t think you’d be dense enough to not realize this was a date!”

[mae-gi-writes]

A TURN OF PRIORITIES . PART 1 | BANG CHAN

Synopsis: What happens when you and Bang Chan decide to fake a relationship for the sake of making your ex-boyfriend jealous? A turn of priorities, that's what.

Genre: fakedating au! Bestfriend geeky, dorky chan x popular f!reader, stereotypical, fluff, a bit of angst

PART ONE . PART TWO

----

It always amazes how quickly people seem to move on from love, or relationships, in general.

That’s the reason why you’ve been staring down a certain quarterback since the start of the soccer semi-finals in honor of the College cup being hosted around the country for all universities.

It’s seven on a Tuesday evening and rain is drizzling over the bleachers, onto the people, and getting into your hair. The hair that you’ve wasted thirty minutes straightening, only to have it frizz up with that sort of moisture. It’s almost impossible to tame it down. It’s got a life of its own.

As if that helps with the sudden overload of problems getting stacked up in a pile a mile high right before your eyes. Your ex-boyfriend, looking as gorgeous as ever and providing his constant lip service to his fans, now has his arms wrapped around one of the cheerleaders whom he’d claimed only weeks before as “just friends and nothing more.”

Ha. What a joke. You were the joke.

Tears burnt at the back of your eyes and you have to look away, blinking angrily into nothingness as your eyes struggle to glaze over with emotion. You can’t lose your cool. Not here. Not now. After all, it’s bad enough everyone on campus got to witness your break-up in a manner reminiscent of that of a pop-star’s, what with Lee Minho walking away from you as if he’d never had a care in his world and that he couldn’t care less how much of an asshole he seemed to be in that very moment he’d decided to dump your sorry ass.

“Got a place for me?”

Turning and quickly rubbing at your eyes with your coat sleeve, you catch sight of your best friend — as geeky as usual — struggling to hold two popcorn bags, a hotdog, and diet coke bottles, his glasses slightly askew and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Did you just wake up?” You can’t hide your horror at his choice of attire. A bedraggled shirt wrinkled in too many places to count, grey sweatpants and jogging shoes that seemed to have seen better days. He just grins bashfully in response, handing you the popcorn before he pushes through the throng of people to get to your seats.

“Sorry. I completely forgot the time,” he pushed his glasses up using his elbow. Setting down the coke as he takes his seat, he doesn’t hesitate to bite into his hot dog, moaning in bliss as he does so, “damn, hot dogs sold at soccer games are the best. There’s just no way you can beat that.”

“It’s just a hot dog.”

“Yeah," he looks at you, offended, "but it’s sold at a soccer game.”

“And?”

“And that automatically enhances its taste, no questions asked.”

You shake your head, though it’s impossible to hide the smile growing on your lips, “you’re an idiot, Bang Chan.”

"And you, my dear friend Y/N, should start living a little," Chan leans forward in his seat then, an overexcited pup as the whistle signals the start of the game, "what are the chances of us winning this time?"

You roll your eyes, "I don't know. I don't care."

"You don't care because your Ex is playing," he points out, "so you'd want him to lose, ideally."

"In all honesty? Yes."

He chuckles and takes another bite of his hot dog, "always the pessimist."

At your age, it's surprising that you and Bang Chan have stayed friends all throughout your middle and high school years. Friends come and go, drift off when your interests and priorities changw in life. Yet, somehow, Bang Chan had always seemed to be present and everlasting. He's the harbour which you float back to when you feel lost out at sea despite being complete polar opposites.

It's an understatement to say that your friends dislike Chan. They don't dislike him per say. They just don't understand him.

"What do you have to talk about with this guy, Y/N?" They would snigger amongst themselves whenever he'd drift away to get some more food, "he's weird."

"He still reads comic books."

"And looks up marine animals in his free time."

"What's wrong with marine animals?" You can't help but ask at the absurdity of their questions, "I like dogs. So what?"

"Yeah but you're not like, obsessed with them," one of your friend wrinkles her nose like she's smelling something disgusting, "and plus, he's so awkward. I can't stand the way he makea eye contact with me every time we spend more than five seconds together."

Maybe it is the fact that you've known Chan forever that silence with him doesn't bother you the slightest. It's been routine for the past few years after all, with him doing his own thing and you lost in your own world.

"Oh! Score!" Chan suddenly jumps up aa the board blinks like crazy and the crowd roars. The speakers boom out with the MC's voice:

"Aaaand it's a score for the Riverland Snakes! It's now one to zero folks and what a beautiful start to the first college league game!"

Cheerleaders deploy across the field like a pack of hyenas in bright clothing, screaming out each player's name between their kicks and summersaults.

Your gaze catches your ex-boyfriend's figure across the field and it's no surprise he's all smiles.

"I thought you said our first opponent was good," you lean in to whisper into Chan's ear.

"Well yeah but maybe they're having an off season or something," he shrugs, "who knows?"

Indeed. As the Riverland Snakes keep on scoring goal after goal with minimal, the more your heart drops in your chest like someone just punched you. It stings and the hatred, all the loathing, seems to pour out of you in waves.

You hate this.

You hate being here.

Another goal for the Riverland Snakes. Another score that gathers a loud cheer.

A goal for the Thundering Tigers.

2-1.

And then, the whistle. Signalling the end of the match.

You don't want to watch. But you do, eyes raking over Minho's figure as he runs to his teammates and gathers them up in a ceremonial hug while the rest of the crowd pulses forward like an army of ants. Thre excitement buzzes in the air, overlapped with joy pulsing through Riverland students and it's too much, too much that you turn to Chan to tell him you're leaving--

Only to see Minho wrapping his arms around a girl.

Not just another girl. A friend. Your friend.

Her dyed auburn curls are shining, her head thrown back in laughter as Minho easily picks her up and gives her a twirl.

Then they kiss. And you feel like your entire world falls apart.

————-

“You can’t hide forever.”

You bury your head even deeper into the covers, snuggling into your pillow in hopes that Chan’s voice disappears at some point. This is how you’ve spent the last four days, rolling around in bed and barely cooking yourself anything, showering only when you need to, going to the toilet only when you need to. For the rest of the time, your eyes are glued to the ceiling. Numb. Filled with thoughts about where this possibly went wrong. And why, why out of all people, had he decided that it had to be her?

“Y/N,” Chan sighs on the other side of the door. Screw it. You wish you hadn’t given him the spare keys to your apartment. Back then it had sounded like a good idea, Chan being responsible and all, “you can’t hide in there forever.”

You turn away from the door, groaning.

Maybe if you ignore him he’ll go away. That’s what you’ve been doing all this time after all. He hadn’t had the bravery to break these boundaries yet.

“Y/N, I’m warning you. I’ll open the door if you don’t answer.”

Ha. As if. You don’t believe a word he says. You huff a little to yourself.

“Alright then.”

And the door is flung open. Yelping in shock, you bound up from your bed to look at the doorway where Chan stands, his hands filled with grocery bags with an expression that doesn’t seem all too impressed. As if on instinct, your body curls in on itself and you tug the blanket up to your chin, shrieking, “I didn’t say you could come in!”

“Well you weren’t answering so I had to check if you were still alive in there,” he says without missing a beat. One would think that Chan’s the kind of guy to be completely comfortable in just waltzing into a girl’s room, but his ears are flushed red, as is his neck. And he avoids making eye contact with you. Instead, he focuses on rummaging through the bags like it’s his sole mission, “I bought you food, snacks, toiletries if you needed them. Wasn’t sure what you were missing since you’ve been ignoring me all this time—“

“I really can’t do this right now,” you flop down on your bed and turn away from him.

“Are you sure? I brought you a donut.”

You freeze in mid-roll. Donuts. That sounds nice. You’ve always had a thing for donuts. The glaze, the chocolate filling inside, the crispy softness of the dough…that’s enough to make your mouth water.

No. You’re not to fall for his stupid plan.

“I don’t want your stupid donut,” you mutter half-heartedly.

“Are you sure?” You feel the bed dipping underneath Chan’s weight as he sits on the edge. There’s an amused tilt to his voice, “I bought the one from Krispy Kreme, the double chocolate one with chocolate filling. It’s even got those little nuts on it and a caramel glaze—“

The blanket is jerked off as you swivel around to face him, “fine, fine! You win! Where is it?”

Chan barks out in laughter while he hands you the packet and you don’t hesitate to rip it from his grip, inhaling the sweetness of the donut. You take a huge bite out of it and a burst of chocolate and caramel flavor spread across your tongue in delight.

You moan, “this is so worth seeing your face.”

“I’m not sure I should take that as a compliment.”

“It’s not,” you swallow and take another bite. The nut crunches and mixes in with the amazing chocolate filling that oozes along your tastebuds. Chan, meanwhile, is gazing up at you with fondness in his eyes. He’s always looking at you like that, especially when you’re eating donuts. He says there’s something that is really satisfying about watching you enjoy your food. Maybe it’s because you’re never that keen on food unless it’s sweet and bad for your health.

“How are you?” He ventures after some time.

You snort to hide the sadness that suddenly comes seeping in, “how do you think I am?”

“Horrible, from what I’m seeing.”

“Exactly.”

“I just don’t understand,” something catches in your throat. Your eyes sting, burning, “I thought she was my friend. I thought he loved me. It just sucks.”

“Yeah,” Chan mumbles back, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You try to laugh, though it sounds hollow, “you didn’t do anything. It’s not your fault.”

As much as you initially hate the fact that Chan has managed to infiltrate into your house without warning, you have to admit it feels nice to have his company around. He volunteers to cook you lunch and shoves you into the bathroom while he puts your laundry into the washing machine. You spend that time scrubbing down your body and giving your hair a nice wash until your scalp is red and your mirror has fogged up. Towelling your hair dry and putting on some fresh clothes does make you feel marginally better, and when you pad out into the kitchen your stomach rumbles as the smell of bacon and eggs waft through the air.

“Breakfast is ready,” Chan grins at you, “you look like you’ve just revived from the walking dead.”

“Thanks. And you should stop commenting on my appearance. You know girls are sensitive to this kind of shit?”

He whacks you with his oven mitten, “stop being so vulgar.”

The rest of the day is spent lounging in the living room and binge-watching the series of Stranger Things that for some reason, has Chan really addicted. You’re not quite certain why he loves it so much, but you endure through it anyway, knowing that the distraction is good to keep your mind off things that would make you cry and break stuff otherwise.

But at some point during the afternoon, you find yourself re-thinking about all the things that could’ve gone wrong. Is it something to do with the way you loved talking things out instantly instead of just brushing them aside? What had Minho found in her that he couldn’t find in you? And why…why did she decide to go behind your back? The betrayal hurts more than the actual break-up.

Chan encourages you to come back to school the next day and you reluctantly agree after some persuasion that you’ll grab some more donuts after your last lecture. That motivation doesn’t last very long. It’s hard just to put one foot in front of the other, and you’re barely out of the house. Every step hurts your pride, makes your heart shrink even smaller inside your chest, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

The world, however, seems to love conspiring against you. That comes into the form of the one who'd been kissing your ex just a few days ago.

"Y/N, can we talk?" Lee Minji slots an arm through yours as you walk to your computer science lecture.

You shrug her off like she's the plague, glaring at her, "what do you think you're doing?"

"What?" She laughs, "Y/N, it's not like I committed a crime or anything--"

"He's my boyfriend!" You burst out.

"He was your boyfriend."

For a minute, all you can do is stare each other down.

Anger bubbles through you, burning your insides.

"I can't believe you," you grovel out through gritted teeth, "you--I thought you were my friend."

"I am! It's just--things happen Y/N, I can't control who I fall in love with," guilt washes across Minji's festures as she reaches for your arm once more, "please, can we just talk it over?"

You want to. You really do want to hug her and cry it out, and then everything will be fine and normal again. But just the thought of her and Minho together has you wrenching out your arm in disgust.

"Get the fuck out of my face," you snarl out.

Then, before she can say anything else, you're whipping around and walking away as your heart collapses.

You barely make it to the end of the road before you lean over and break down crying.

-----

"Just do it," you hiss at Chan, aware of his fluttering hands at your waist, the hitch in his breath, the way he tries avoiding your eyes.

You're in the middle of the dance floor in the university gym, streamers of white and blue adorning the ceiling as couples sway along to the romantic music booming through speakers that have seen better days.

Never in your right mind would you have made it to this kind of ball. It's not your thing. But all of that had changed a few days ago when an idea had popped up.

"You want me to what?" Chan's mouth had opened in shock at your suggestion, which you'd merely ignored.

It had been on impulse to attend the celebratory dinner organized by the football team. But your pride couldn't let it go; that Minho and Minji would spend the entire evening cuddling without remorse?

My ass they will, is what you thought.

Which is why you dragged Chan along for the ride despite his initial reluctance, grumbling all the way into the parking lot. He'd kept on insisting how bad of an idea it was, which merely spurred on your intent even more. To find Minho and make him regret having walked away from you.

That is how you find yourself attached to Chan, pressing yourself against him as if your life depends on it when you notice Minho lingering by the doorway with his friends, his profile leaning towards the dance floor so that you're in his full peripheral view if he merely moves his gaze up.

"Just hold me," you hiss at him through gritted teeth, pushing yourself even closer if that's possible.

There's a slight hesitation before Chan's arms wrap around your frame. Your nose brushes against his nape, causing you to get a whiff of his boyish odour mixed with deodorant. It feels nice, not completely comfortable, but nice.

In the background, you hear the music switch to a softer groove, a slow orchestra accompanied by a deep tenor.

I've never been the type

I've never fed a line in my life

The music pulses, echoes through the crowd like a magic spell and for a minute, you allow your head to fall onto Chan's shoulder as your feet shuffle to the beat.

Let's be squares in a round world,

Let's be squares in a round world, baby

Let's be squares in a round world,

Let's be squares in a round world,

"Is he even looking?" Chan mumbles into your ear.

You spare them a glance but it's too dark to tell, "it's fine. Just make as if you're saying something very funny," and then, you throw your head back to laugh aloud, "HAHAHA! How funny Chan!"

"Shhh!" Chan shields your body, pivoting you around so that his body shields yours, "you are so embarrassing."

You don't have to see him to know he's blushing down to his toes, "I'm trying to stay in character."

"I'm never coming to help you ever again."

"Nobody cares Chan, it's fine."

The music ends and he's quick to drag you off with the exvuse that he's thirsty, and while he's away finding you drinks, your eyes impulsively find Minho's across the dance floor.

Something flashes in his eyes when he notices you, something unreadable, and then he looks away as if embarrassed.

Embarrassed...by what? By the fact that he's now shoving his tongue down your friend's throat? Or that he can't stand the thought of seeing you with another guy?

"Hey," a cup presses against your cheek. You turn your head to find Chan, grabbing the cup from him as he settles upon the bleachers beside you.

"Thanks," you say, "and not just for the juice."

"You owe me. Big time."

"I know."

"Do you think it worked?"

"What?" You raise a brow.

"Do you think you managed to rile him up?" Chan glances over in Minho's direction. The latter is flankes by Minji and two other guys engaged in conversation.

Something in your heart tightens at the way her hand is lingering along his forearm.

Pressing your lips, you allow your gaze to tear away before it causes any more damage, "I don't know," you confess softly, "I don't know whether it's hurting me more."

He makes a sound of acknowledgement. Your hesrt squeezes tightly in your chest, eyes stinging with sudden tears.

"I--I need to go," you murmur, already striding towards the exit as Chan scrambles after you, "wait, Y/N--"

You don't listen. You don't want to.

You can't.

It hurts too much.

---

"Congratulations!"

Those are the words flung in your face the moment you step into the dining hall. Minji stands, lunch bag in hand and a huge grin dancing along her lips as if your argument had never occurred in the first place.

You blink, knowing that you should still be mad at her. Then brush past her to find a free table.

She follows, not deterred by your coldness, "I didn't know Chan was your type. You guys seem so cute together though."

"What?" You turn in surprise, and her smile widens, "I knew it! It's true! You are going out with Chan!"

A bit perplexed by her train of thought, you scramble for a coherent response and blurt out without thinking, "yeah. Yeah I am," your voice is still cold, "why? You're going to steal him too?"

You feel like kicking yourself when her face falls and hurt replaces it.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, averting your gaze and sitting down at the table, "it's just--"

"I understand," she cuts you off, takes a seat right next to you. The kindness radiating from her is so overpowering you don't have the strength to push her away, "i'm sorry, Y/N. I never wanted it to be like this. Trust me, Minho feels the same."

"Yeah, sure."

A weird ache settles in your chest as you eat with Minji and talk of stuff that you don't really care about. She's being extra careful to please you and you can feel her guilt glimmering through every glance she sends your way. But though you want to be mean, you want her to suffer, you find that you don't have the heart to.

"Oh! I have chem next," she quickly packs up her bag and you inwardly let out a sigh of relief. God, you're glad this is over.

You watch as she slings her backpack over her shoulder, sends you another shy smile and says, "see you after? Maybe?"

"Uhm..."

"How about coffee? From Paul's?"

The look on her face deflates the anger in you. You find you cannot say no, "I'm--"

"Please, Y/N."

Biting your lip, you mumble your agreement.

The smile she sends your way is dazzling. Almost too much.

Sometimes, you wonder whether you're just too nice for your own good. Or whether you're just plain stupid.

In any case, things just get progressively worse throughout the day; you're stopped countless times either to be congratulated about your newfound relationship, or asked whether the rumours about you and Chan are true. You confirm their suspicions, though quite unsure how that newfound information should evolve. You decide to scurry towards Chan's flat the moment your last lecture ends.

"Ah you've heard?" He asks the moment you step into his mini foyer. He's just bathed, now drying off his wet strands using his towel, "the entire school is raving about it."

Checking your inbox and noticing the spam messages from your friends confirm his assumptions.

"Right, well," you settle at his table, munching from his already-open crisps packet as you cross your feet, "at least we know Minho's aware of it."

"Uhuh," Chan pulls out the lasagna from the oven, his dinner for the night. Yours too, now, "we need to talk."

"About?" You raise a brow.

"If we're going to fake date to make Minho jealous, we should have a plan."

"Okay," you drag the word out, "and what exactly are you implying?"

"We don't have to act like a couple unless he's around," Chan starts ticking things off his fingers, glasses sliding along the tip of his nose as he does so, "I'm not comfy with PDA so if we keep it minimal, that would be best--"

"You're such a wuss."

"Shut up," he snaps, "do you want to make him jealous or not?"

"Fine fine," you wave at him to continue and he serves you a portion. It's unconscious and natural, since you're always pigging out on his food, "anything else?"

"I particularly don't enjoy hand-holding. So if we could find an alternative--"

"You can't be serious," your laughter stops midway upon noticing that he's not laughing with you, "it's just hand-holding!"

"I don't like it. It makes me nervous."

"Alright," you roll your eyes, "keep going."

"No kisses. Arm around shoulders or neck is fine, but that's it. No pet names 'cause that's embarrassing, and please, please don't make me go to this horrid campus parties that your friends are obsesses with."

"Jeez," you let out a whoosh of air, "no wonder people don't want to hang out with you. Are you just as weird with them?"

"I call them boundaries. They're healthy and they make me feel good."

"Sure, whatever babe."

He flushes, swats at you like you're an annoying insect, "I said no pet names!"

"Aw bunny, look how cute you are being embarrassed and all."

Your laughter merely erupts tenfold the redder he becomes, mumbling to himself why he's even trying to help you out when you're doing nothing o help him back. It's clear though, that he's got a soft spot for you. Chan always has, especially when you need him.

You really hope that this fake-dating works out. The quicker the better. Just enough that it makes Minho realize his mistake.

"How long do you think it'll take for him to cave in?" Chan asks as if he's just read your mind.

"As long as it takes."

You really hope it's sooner rather than later.

-----

A/N: Part 2 will be up after this so don't forget to stay tuned and let me know if you wanna be added to the masterlist! Not sure how many parts there will be yet (maybe the 2nd part is the final hehe) but we'll see. Thank you so much as always, for reading my words and connecting with me, a part of myself xx

[sgiandubh]

Interesting. So Sam was at the Talk Art party, a celebration for the podcast his friend Russell Tovey does. Caitriona's dear friend Aisling Bea is also friends with Russell and Robert and was there and celebrating too. And it struck me again how this kind of thing is exactly up Cait's alley, and she knows Aisling and Russell and she's super into art and clearly loves to talk about art/creativity etc. and it always strikes again me how odd it is that SC are not allowed to be seen in public together. They're just "friends" right? Know the same people. Don't friends go to and perhaps hang out at the same events? 🤔

Dear Talk Art Anon,

I suppose you mean yesterday's 5 year celebration of Russell Tovey and Robert Diament's Talk Art podcast, which happened yesterday at the Toklas Restaurant in London (just across the street from King's College, actually). FYI, I think the venue is named after Alice B. Toklas, Gertrude Stein's mustachioed lover. The woman even wrote a cookbook (hashish fudge, anyone?), from which I did try to cook myself, with mixed results.

This should give you an idea of the festive vibe and also the type of crowd in attendance: London glitterati with a marked LGBTQ+ flair and an interesting mix& match (spotted James Corden, too):

I know, I know what the Disgruntled Tumblrettes will say - they still have no clue about the ways of this world and automatically think it's a segregated affair. Not really my fault if their parochial brains are stuck in the Fifties.

You are correct: C's friend, Aisling Bea, was, indeed, there. Such a small world, eh? Always. 😉

And this should immediately fuel further speculation ('who's that girl?'), both chez *urv and Marple. I don't know who the woman is and I honestly think it actually doesn't matter:

And to offer you another question, instead of an answer: over all these years, how come we have seen half a battalion of S&C common friends/acquaintances, but next to 0 of Tait's entourage, which seems to be just about C old friends, many of whom are also friends with S, anyways?

Things that don't even make you go 🤔 anymore.

Very interesting news, indeed. Thank you, Anon. Drop by anytime!

[Later edit, because something crossed my mind right now]: last Tuesday, we did have, as you might know, the third National Day Reception, right at the embassy. My own mum looked on the official FB page and told me she was disappointed I wasn't on any picture. Except I was, half blocked by someone, and she did not see me. Believe what you want, as always.

[arcaneorphic]

Redamancy - Timeskip! Osamu x Reader

Pairing: Timeskip! Miya Osamu x Flower Shop Owner! Reader

Genre: Fluff,

Summary: Redamancy: a love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you; the act of loving in return.

Osamu, owner of Onigiri Miya, and the owner of the flower shop next door find that falling in love happens slowly and all at once.

Word Count: 3,217

Osamu had come to terms with his jadedness a long time ago. Where his brother was a hopeless romantic, he’d like to think he was a realist. Atsumu believed in love in spite of their father, where Osamu didn’t because of that man. The twins hardly knew anything about their father, and they liked it that way. Though it was clear that he left lasting damage on the two—however much they tried to deny it. In their teenage years the twins were fairly popular among their female peers. Where Atsumu indulged in that fact, Osamu did the opposite. Sure, he had a girlfriend or two during high school, but they were never that serious; at least not serious enough for them to meet his ma. 

Besides, he had other things to worry about—more important things. He was a twenty-three year old business owner and he didn’t have the spare time to worry himself over another person like that. He was content with his life just as is. At least that’s what he would tell himself whenever he returned to his quiet apartment after working long hours at his onigiri shop. 

*** 

It was early on a Tuesday morning when Osamu was unlocking the front of his shop so he could prepare for the day. The usual busy street was relatively silent, save for the early morning commuters either going to or returning from work. However, there was one thing out of place. The jingling of keys to the shop next door caught his attention. She was far too early, he noted. Usually she doesn’t open until 9:00 am.  

Once, when a customer had asked him when the shop next door opened and he answered automatically Atsumu had raised an eyebrow at that. When pressed on why he knew that information so readily Osamu rolled his eyes and said something about how often customers unfamiliar with the area would ask so it was only reasonable for him to learn. There was no way in hell he would ever tell Atsumu the truth. He’d never admit that the real reason he knew when the shop next door opened was because he’d see her walk in front of the windows of his restaurant every morning to open. 

“Mornin’,” he said.

“Oh! Morning!” She seemed frazzled. He took notice of how she seemed to be having trouble opening her door. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah.. just,” she huffed. “Doors just been getting stuck recently.”

The twinge of frustration in her usual sweet voice amused him, “Here, let me.”

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to. I don’t want to keep you from getting to what you need to,” she tried to protest. 

He gave her a smile, charming and kind, “Really, ‘s no issue.”

She stepped aside. He pushed against the door slightly, and it sure was stuck. A small part of him worried how she’d lock up for the day to count her tills if it was this difficult, but he quickly pushed the thought away as it wasn’t his place to worry about such a thing. He pushed against the door harder this time, thankful for the years of strength training he did and still does—though less and far between now. 

She let out a sigh of relief as the door opened, “Bless, I thought I’d be out here for at least another half hour.”

Cute, he thought to himself. 

“If you don’t mind me askin’, what’re you doin’ here so early?”

“Turns out a client of mine decided fairly last minute that she’d like a whole new flower and arrangement for a dozen centerpieces,” she sighed. “So, if you’re in the market for some peonies, let me know. I’ll give you a discount for helping me open the door.”

He laughed, a good and proper one, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She smiled back at him and he swore the harsh morning air got a little easier to deal with. The two parted after wishing each other a good day. 

*** 

As Osamu prepped for the day he let his mind wander to the woman next door. The first time they had met was when he first moved into this space. He wasn’t open for business, still just a few tables and not nearly enough chairs, when there was a knock. 

He put on his best customer smile ready to tell the person that he’d be open in a weeks time, but his words caught in his throat when he laid eyes on her. He swore he’d never seen someone so beautiful before. 

“Hi, I own the flower shop, Ume Field, next door and I just wanted to welcome you to the area,” her voice was sweet and kind, but not in the way that seemed forced or unnatural. 

She took a step into the space and Osamu had never worried so much for a stranger, there was still construction equipment littering the floor and he’d be beside himself if she got hurt. He tried to tell himself that it was because he couldn’t afford a lawsuit if she happened to get hurt on his property, but that was hardly the reason. 

He took the arrangement from her outstretched hands. The oranges and dark gold of flowers he could not name for the life of him stared back at him, “Thank you, but I have to admit I don’t know much about flowers.”

She smiled at that as she pointed to each flower respectively, “Well these are for luck and these are for prosperity. Just um… I don’t see many people our age around here so I thought I’d give you a welcoming gift.”

She was right. Most of the other owners around them were fairly older than they were, more experienced and a lot more certain about income. 

“This is real nice of you,” his face felt warm and he hoped for the life of him he wasn’t blushing. 

Those flowers stayed on the counter of his shop for as long as he could keep them. When Atsumu made a comment about them during opening day Osamu told him to “shut his mouth” and “mind his business”. Atsumu chose to drop it for the time being but he’d never forget the soft look in his brother’s eyes whenever he looked at those flowers. 

***

It was an awful day. The kind of day that made him doubt if opening his own restaurant was a good idea after all. Maybe he should have just become a pro-athlete like his twin. He was a damn good volleyball player and the money would’ve been nice, not to mention never having to deal with self-entitled customers or things that were far out of his control. He was wiping down tables as he let himself fume in his frustrations. There was still ten minutes before he officially closed, and when he heard the chime of his door opening he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. 

Of course, he thought as he collected himself enough to turn and greet the customer. 

“Rough day?” Her eyebrows knitted and concern laced in her voice. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, humorless and exhausted. If asked, he would deny the way his tensed shoulders relaxed at the sound of her voice, “Ya want the usual?”

She shook her head, “No, no, I’m alright.”

“Told you it’s not a problem. Besides, makes no sense for you to go home hungry when you’re here,” a repeat of a conversation he’s sure they’ve had a hundred times. 

With the holiday’s coming soon she would leave her shop later, and the first time he’d seen her walk by his restaurant at 7:30 he had rushed out to stop her. Since then, whenever she finds herself leaving at a later hour than intended, she waits inside Onigiri Miya. 

She walks to the front counter and picks up one of the rags, “And I told you I’ll only eat something if you let me pay for it.”

As she starts to wipe down one of the tables he feels his heart clench, “You don’t have—.”

“Well I’m going to,” she interrupts. 

Always so damn stubborn, he thinks. If there’s one thing he’s learned about her its that she’s as headstrong and stubborn as they come. The first time she had stood in front of him with arms crossed and pretty face set he had to walk away. 

“Then you’re going to eat somethin’.”

There’s a brief silence before an exaggerated sigh leaves her lips, “Fine.”

With that Osamu goes to make something for her. As he does so he pretends not to see her place five dollars at the register and tomorrow when she comes by his shop to drop off flowers as a way to ‘repay’ him for the food, she’ll pretend not to notice him slip the five dollars into the pocket of her apron. He’s fairly certain they’ve been trading the same five dollars for the past four months. 

She hums along to the song playing over the speakers as she wipes down the last three tables. In all honesty, Osamu was nearly done cleaning by the time she came in, but he still appreciated the way she insisted on lessening whatever she could. She disappeared into the back for a bit, returning with a broom in hand. Before she could make any headway in sweeping he called her name. 

Osamu meets her half way and takes the broom from her hands. She pats him gently on his bicep as she walks by. He watches her for a moment. She walks behind the counter and takes a seat at the stool he has there. The way she walks about his shop freely puts a smile on his face. 

Yeah, I made the right choice, he thinks to himself as he begins to sweep the floor. 

***

“Ma, tell yer thick headed son that he needs to man up and just do it,” It’s taking every ounce of patience and respect for his mother Osamu has to not jump across the table and fight Atsumu the way they did in their teens. 

“You really never get tired of hearin’ yer own voice, huh?” Osamu spits back, accent always a little thicker around his brother and ma. 

Osamu’s eyes keep flicking towards the window of his shop, thinking he’s doing it slyly enough not to be caught; but of course his ma is fully aware. There’s a look of concern that she’s never seen in her son’s eyes before. She knows her son—she knows that he hates the idea of falling in love only for it to turn tainted and ugly. She also knows that prior to moving into this space her son had no idea how to keep a plant alive, but looking at the various plants and flowers that decorate his shop she knows that something inside of her son has healed. 

She eats her onigri that her son lovingly made, and tunes out the sound of her son’s arguing—she’s used to this little back and forth of theirs. For as much as Atsumu enjoys antagonizing his brother, he wants him to be happy and he sees that the shop owner next door does just that.

Onigiri Miya is empty, save for the three of them, which is the only reason why Osamu is indulging his brother’s antics. Well, that is only partially true; the other reason he is allowing this to continue is that it keeps his mind off of the worry growing in the pit of his stomach. 

Just as Osamu is about to pull out his phone and call, he sees an all too familiar beat up blue kei truck parking in front of his restaurant. Both his brother and mother notice the worry fade from Osamu’s eyes only to be replaced by amused adoration. 

“Watch the shop,” Osamu tells his brother as he walks outside to meet the woman. 

Atsumu and their ma watch as the woman driving the truck beams at Osamu as he walks up. Even though they can’t hear the exchange occurring between the pair it’s clear by the way the woman shakes her head at whatever Osamu says and grabs his wrist to show him his watch that he made a comment about the time. 

Ma notes the way her son smiles at the woman and how easily the woman keeps up with her son’s quips. Just as Osamu is about to pick up one of the boxes in the bed of her truck they see as she smacks his hand away. She stands there, arms crossed and face set as she tells—scolds—him not to overexert himself seeing as he did so yesterday while he was getting his shipment in. He replies with something that has her rolling her eyes and laughing before she goes off to open her shop door. 

“See what I mean, Ma,” Atsumu sighs. 

*** 

Osamu is convinced he’s never been this nervous before. Telling his twin he’s quitting volleyball? Starting a food truck? Opening a brick and mortar? A breeze compared to having the most beautiful, intelligent, and hardworking woman stood in his small studio apartment. While at his shop he could feign having his life in order, but having a woman like her in a place like this made him feel… like he was fighting a losing battle. There was no way he could ever be enough—. 

“No fair, you’ve got bigger windows!” 

Osamu paused, pulled from his spiral, “What?”

“The windows in my studio are teeny tiny compared to yours,” she explained, as if that would somehow make Osamu understand her. He didn’t. 

She walked further into his apartment the same way she walked about his restaurant—as if she’s done it a million times. Oddly, under all his ‘first date’ anxieties, he felt the same; as if this was commonplace for them—his soul was at ease with hers. 

“Okay, well dinners almost ready if you wanna… keep cryin’ over my windows,” he chuckles. 

He’s had to have said that phase thousands of times in his life, but never once did they fill him with as much domestic bliss as when he said them to her. 

“What’re you making,” same lilt in her voice as when she asked him that same question after-hours at Onigiri Miya. 

“You’ll see in a minute,” same response he always gave her. 

“This is a date, you know, you’re supposed to be nice to me,” the teasing glint in her eyes he’s learned well returning. She leans on the counter, small of her back pressing up against the lip, while she looks up at him. He’s all too familiar with this too. 

“Am I not? Being nice to ya, I mean,” his tongue slipping back into its natural accent subconsciously. 

“That country charm will only get you out of so much, Osamu,” he was certain that he would die if he ever had to go without hearing his name coming from her mouth. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirks as he pats her hip to move her and grab something from the cabinet behind her. 

That move being something that he learned from her. It was comical, really, the way a 6’4” man, built and strong, could easily be pushed around with a few simple pats from the sweetest looking woman in a soft pink apron. 

“How’d that date your brother went on go, by the way?” She asked once she settled back into her previous position. 

Osamu gave her a look that told her all she needed to know. In the time she had grown closer to Osamu it also meant getting to know the loud setter. The first time she had met Atsumu he had walked into her shop lackadaisically looking around. She had been thoroughly confused as to why the owner of Onigiri Miya was mulling about her shop instead of tending to his own. When she walked up to him, ready to scold him for not attending to his restaurant, he looked at her. In that moment the playful jab bubbling in her throat disappeared because she knew that he wasn’t Osamu. 

At that point, Osamu had moved into the space next to hers only two months ago, but even then she could tell that the identical looking man in front of her was not him. The man in front of her did not make her heart flutter and his eyes didn’t make her feel seen. When the man introduced himself as Atsumu, brother to the owner next door, she smiled. 

“Poor guy, he sounded like he really liked her,” she says, pulling herself from the memory at the sound of sizzling coming from the pan. 

Osamu sighs, “Yeah, and you said that about the last girl he went out with too.” 

Atsumu had gotten into the habit of purchasing bouquets from her shop for his dates, which meant that he spent his time between Onigiri Miya and Ume Field singing praise over the newest ‘love of his life’. She had met many people like Atsumu since opening her shop, hopeless romantics with hearts far too big and sensitive for their own good, and she would listen intently as he spoke of those women. Atsumu was genuine and the women who he dated often times were not. Gold diggers or people chasing their fifteen minutes for dating the Miya Atsumu. 

“He’s just got a big heart, Osamu.”

“He’s an idiot.”

She gives him a look that makes him want to be kinder, “Listen, I’ve just had to deal with this—with him—my whole life and I don’t like him botherin’ you with it now.” 

“I’ve told you, I don’t mind.”

“I know, I know,” he says. 

A comfortable silence settles between them as Osamu plates their food. He sets the food on the small table and then walks towards her. She smiles softly as she takes his outstretched hand into hers and lets him pull her closer. She’s never met a man like Osamu before, that much she’s sure of. From that moment, all those Tuesday’s ago, when she had told him her door was difficult to open and he closed his shop for an hour so he could fix her door she knew that he had her heart. 

Unbeknownst to her, Osamu had fallen for her far before then, as much as he wanted to deny it. The moment she had walked into his restaurant, wood and construction equipment strewn across the flower, with flowers arranged meticulously by her talented hands he was taken with her. Even so, he waited until now, a year later, to ask her on a date. There was still growth he needed to do before he started anything with her. She deserved the best version of himself he could give. 

“Hi,” he says softly as she wraps her arms around his torso. 

“Hi,” she repeats as she rests her head on his chest. 

Years from now, when they’re stood in the home that they’ve built together he’ll think back to this moment. He’ll think of standing in his cramped studio apartment with the woman that would become his wife and feeling a wave of peace settle in his soul. 

[trippinsorrows]

I feel like we need a short that details Solana delivering the twins!

How and where did she go into labor?

Where was Roman and how did he react?

What was the procedure? Lmao Did she birth at home? A center?

LMAO I lowkey can imagine Roman being stressed the fuck out because he hates his wife being in pain. And maybe, just maybe, she’s in labor for a couple hours and a little uncomfortable…but the twins show up thinking they’re being supportive but they’re really just making Roman need his blood pressure medication refilled immediately lol

They would get a glimpse of Solana from the hallway and go…

“ Damn. I hope Soso gone’ be alright pushing out them big ass kids. Shit look like it’s gone hurt, uce. Specially when she get to them shoulders and ears’.” Jimmy winced, thinking about Solana’s double load of a task at hand.

Meanwhile Jey nervously ran a hand down his face, before saying, “ Fuck, man. She ain’t got no choice but to be alright. It’s Fajita Tuesday tomorrow. And she told me she was gone make me and the kids the lil spicy Taco Bell ass sauce she make wit’ em.”

“ Fool, she is not gone be able to move around and make us no goddamn’ food tomorrow after having them kids. She just might barely be able to make it to the bathroom good after that.”

“ That’s why she meal prepped our food in the freezer. We just gotta go to big dog house and get em’. Pop in the microwave and allat’.” Jimmy followed up, smirking at the thought of Solana’s cooking on demand for the next week via carefully curated tv dinner tray style meal prep packages for the them and the kids in the event she did go into labor.

Wearing an almost identical smile to his faternal twin’s, Jey said, “ Hell yeah. That’s why I love Soso, man. Always looking out for us. Thats why I can’t wait to come over with Nicki and the kids after the babies born. See em, spoil em, and stuff.”

“ Hell we might stay a couple days. See if she need Nicki help at all. Ya’ know be supportive fa-“

Just as Jey was about to finish his thought, the door to the birthing room wrenched open to reveal a somewhat flustered and annoyed Roman who glared holes into his cousins’ faces barking, “ If yall don’t get your fuckin’ asses out this goddamn place. I swear I’ll have you both fucking castrated before Solana dilates another fucking centimeter.”

“ And let it also be known that anyone I see step a fuckin pinky toe on my property once we go home will be shot on sight. Men, women, children, and any creature thats not my wife’s whiny ass dog is getting a hot one in em’!!”

“ On second thought, kids get rubber bullets to test their future durability. But ya’ll stupid assses are fair game. Especially your dumbass wife. I got something special for her if she steps foot on my shit.” Roman pointed a finger to a now visibly pissed Jey, before slamming the door back and locking it to go return to his wife’s side.

“ See, look on the bright side, uce. You see how the babies already warming up big dog heart. Before that he woulda’ shot the kids with regular bullets too. Look at em’ being a father and what not.” Jimmy goofily beamed.

Hope this interpretation was alright ✨🤦🏾‍♀️💕

NO CAUSE THE WAY I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMG 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

the way i can absolutely see the twins showing up to 'support' solana only to act a damn fool as you so greatly depicted and end up getting kicked out by roman. 😂😂😂😂😂 hell, and any child after that, it's an automatic thing where they're just banned from the hospital altogether 😂😂😂😂😂

them talking about her cooking when sis is literally in labor is so on brand for them.

as far as her birth with the girls, ngl, it's giving me angsty vibes. 😭 i hate to do this to ya'll, but someone asked the other day about this and we were causally putting out there it being angsty 😭 and idk.....i feel like it would be.

i feel like they'd come early to some extent, or when roman is out of town. and solana is rushed to the hospital. she's already a little nervous because this isn't how they planned it. they were expected on or after the due date. not before. and roman would want her at a hospital to make sure she has all the resources and care she needs. he'd also have the whole damn floor cleared, and you can bet bloodline security is all up in that bitch. ain't nobody getting inside that's not supposed to be.

solana would be very emotional and overwhelmed, both because of it happening but also roman not being there. like, of course bayley and naomi are there, but, respectfully, she doesn't want them. she wants her husband.

she's already sad because her mom isn't there, and she dislikes hospitals in general, so roman not being there is super hard for her. of course this man is rushing like hell to make it there, and i'm not evil. he'd make it on time for the birth, but you can bet poor solana is crying both from the physical pain but also her emotions. crying that she wants roman and the infamous, 'i can't do this without him." 😭😭😭😭

i also agree she'd have a long labor, which roman hates cause like you said, he can't stand to see her in pain.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Seven (Part 2)

Jude is on Skype when I get to Clontarf. I hear his smooth, low voice reverberate through the walls of his bedroom and I stand there for several moments trying to gauge whether or not he’s having the kind of conversation that I can just barge in on. I hear him laugh and say something that sounds casual rather than job-interview-like, so I push through the door. 

“Oh, Evie just got here,” He says to the person on call with him, “Do you want to say hi?”

Who wants to say hi to me? I gingerly place my bag onto his chair and perch on the bed with him. A wide, round face beams at me through the screen. “Well hello there,” the woman says, “gosh, what a beautiful girl!”

“Thank you,” I say self-consciously, tucking my hair behind my ears, and Jude puts his arm around me to kiss my temple hello. “This is my girlfriend, Evie, and Evie, this is my great aunt Maureen.”

“Oh, from America,” I say, which makes her laugh for some reason. 

“Well I’m happy to know he’s mentioned me!” She says, and she has a similar accent to him, or, maybe the reverse of it. An Irish woman who held fiercely to her Dublin syllables even after decades in America, even though that southwestern twang has crept in along the edges and slowed it all down so that she doesn’t sound in a hurry anymore. I bet it’s too damn hot in New Mexico to do anything at speed, including talking. 

“When will you come and visit?” She says then, and I don’t know if she’s speaking to him or me or us both, but I let Jude answer her while I sit there and feel like an alien. Nobody knows that I just bawled my eyes out at my therapist’s office and said that I said I constantly think about dying. 

“God, we’d love to. Maybe later in the year, do you think?” Jude is saying, “You know I’ve really been missing America lately.”

“‘Cause it’s been so long since you’ve come! Come for Thanksgiving, won’t you? I think it’d be perfect with all the kids around, although, you know, I can hardly call them kids when they’ve all got kids of their own. Evie, have you ever had a thanksgiving?”

“No, Maureen, I haven’t,”

“You’ll love it. Love it,” and in case I have any doubt about how much I’ll love it she and Jude proceed to have a lengthy conversation about all the food they used to cook together, pumpkin this and pumpkin that, I’ve never had pumpkin anything, and the alien feeling intensifies. 

The conversation moves onto other things then, and I get restless when Maureen starts asking Jude about his job search. He tells her what’s been happening, the interview with a prop place near Portsmouth that he didn’t get a good feeling from, his correspondence with another studio in London, and the interview lined up for Tuesday at another, and then I wait for her to say the inevitable, which she does, “Why don’t you just come to America?”

He starts telling her why it’s not an option right now while she reminds him of all the things he used to love about it before he was ripped out of his precious homeland by his evil parents and then I get off the bed and start picking items of his clothing off the floor and folding them away. I’m aware that obsessive cleaning is what my mother does when my father has done something to piss her off, and consider the value of bringing this fact to my next therapy session with Helen. Maybe she’ll have something enlightening to say about it. 

What’s so great about America anyway? I toss a rogue sock into his hamper. What do they have that we don’t have? Aside from like, semi automatic machine guns and UFOs? There’s so much stuff on this floor. I scoop up a pile of books and plop them onto his desk. Just because he’s American doesn’t mean that he has to just go back there. Why do people keep saying that? He doesn’t want to. He wants to move to London so I can’t see why people can’t just shut up about it. He lived in Berlin for four years, for God’s sake, so why is it inconceivable that he might see himself in-

“Evie, why are you cleaning my room?”

“Hm?”

Jude snaps his laptop shut, “I don’t want you to clean my room.”

“Did you hang up on Maureen?”

“No we said goodbye,” His eyebrow twitches, “She said goodbye to you too.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear her,” I grab a Nike runner and then the other once I’ve located it under a discarded sweatshirt.

“Um, you can stop cleaning if you want.”

“Okay,” I find a place for them and stash them neatly at the bottom of the open wardrobe and feel his eyes on me. 

“You just kind of walked away mid conversation,” he points out delicately. 

“Well, it was your conversation to have. I didn’t think I was going to just, like, walk in on like that. I would have waited if I’d known. Gone for a walk along the seafront or something.”

“I didn’t know how much you didn’t want to talk to Maureen, honestly.” I glance at him and he looks hurt, which is too much to bear at the moment, so I grab a fistful of pencils and shove them back into an upturned pencil case by their side. “Evie, stop. What’s the matter?”

“Well I just had my first therapy session, and you didn’t ask about it.”

“I haven’t had a chance to, c’mere, tell me about it.”

“You knew I was there and you knew when I’d be back and you talked to your great aunt anyway.”

“She called me. I wasn’t going to not pick up on her, she doesn’t call me often.”

“Okay, well…” I can’t think of anywhere else to put my anger and end up channelling it into the zip of the pencil case, which won’t close around the pencils I’ve shoved into it even though there are way too many of them to fit. Jude has the audacity to take the whole thing out of my hand. “Stop cleaning,” he says firmly. “What is wrong? Come here, please, tell me about your session.”

“You think I’m crazy,” I say, because I’ve just been acting crazy. 

“I don’t. Come here.”

I don’t budge. 

“Evie.”

“Why is everyone insisting that you move to America?”

“What? Nobody is insisting that, why are you saying that?”

“Maureen just did.”

“She means it as a joke, she doesn’t think I’m actually going to move back, it’s just that she misses me, I suppose,” He runs his fingers through the front of his hair, “I was like her kid for a while and then I moved away, and I don’t go and visit enough, she’s just… well it’s just wishful thinking.”

“My cousin’s girlfriend said it too.”

He makes a face, “Your cousin’s girlfriend doesn’t know anything about me.”

“She knows that they make movies in LA.”

“Yeah, so does everybody, no prizes to her for that one.”

“I just think that you’re going to change your mind about London and you’re going to contact a studio in LA, it seems like an obvious thing to do.” I’m wound so tightly that I can’t even imagine trying to move my body. My hand is still frozen in a claw like it’s trying to force up the zip of the pencil case that’s now sitting on the bed out of reach, and Jude’s eyebrows fly up incredulously. “You told me to contact a studio in LA.”

“Have you done it?”

“I’m a bit afraid to say that I have.”

“Oh right.”

“For feedback. It was your idea.”

“Well you never said that you contacted them, it’s like you were keeping it a secret from me.”

“I would have if you’d given me a chance to talk to you, but you just came in here and started picking fights with me.”

“I don’t want a fight.”

“Then quit picking one.”

“How many places did you contact?”

He sighs, “Come on, Evie.” “No, how many?”

“Four, I think.”

“Four?”

“Yeah, four, and they haven’t responded yet, so there’s nothing to report back.”

“Okay, well, maybe they won’t.”

He leans onto an elbow and stares down at his nails, shaking his head, and I feel threatened by this. Is he angry with me? Disappointed?

“What?” I demand shakily. 

He purses his lips. 

“Jude, what?”

“Would you be pleased if none of the LA studios ever responded to me?”

“Would I be-”

“I mean if I sent emails to those places with a long enthusiastic letter tailored to each individual one, attached my portfolio that I’ve worked myself to the bone on for the last year, and merely asked for their feedback on it, would it make you happy if they all ignored me?”

I’m flabbergasted. That’s obviously not what I meant. “Of course I wouldn’t.”

“Okay because it just feels like you’re pretty relieved by the thought that none of them might want anything to do with me, and like, for the record, it’s not like I think I’m good enough to work for them, okay? I’m not that delusional, but at this point it feels like I’ll take any help I can get, because nothing is working out. I’ve applied for dozens of jobs this summer and I’ve heard nothing from the vast majority of them. They don’t even reply to me to say I’m not suitable most of the time, that’s how shitty they all think I am, so if the interview with that London place doesn’t pan out next week and nobody from LA comes back to me with a shred of guidance on my portfolio then I really don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s looking like I’ll end up getting some shit job in a fucking Aldi just so I have something to do with my time so it’s really great to know that you’re gunning for me to fail.” 

He flips onto his back with the heels of his hands in his eye sockets and lets out a groan of despair, “I’m not used to failure. I don’t know how to handle myself.”

I want to crumple to the floor in anguish. I am dreadful. Perhaps I should leave town and change my name and save him the effort of breaking up with me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know- I should be more supportive. I don’t want you to fail. I only want the opposite.”

“Why did you come over if you were going to be like this? I was looking forward to seeing you and hearing about your session, and now…” He trails off, but he needn’t say more because I know what he means. I’ve taken what could have been a good moment and soured it because of the inherent ways that I am. This is the first crack, I think, the moment that I will look back on and think, yes, that’s when we both knew unequivocally that I’d make him unhappy. Perhaps, I think, I should get back on the bus and go back to Helen and tell her that I’ve changed my mind and I’d like to take pills after all, because being numb and sedated seems like a nice idea all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry Jude,” I whisper again, and I perch on the edge of the bed with my back to him because I can sense he’s doing that thing he does when he’s upset, where he shuts himself off to me and builds a wall around himself, and I don’t want to see that glazed, stony look on his face ever again. 

Except he isn’t doing that. His hand is on my shoulder, “Evie, c’mere.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry, can I have you?”

“Have me?”

“Yeah I just want to hold you for a while. I don’t want to be like this. I’ve had enough relationships where I fight, I don’t want it with you, please.”

This is new, I think, as he bundles me into his arms and lays down with me so that my face is nestled against his collarbone, the flutter of his breath in my hair, and there is nothing to look at so I close my eyes and breathe him in. “I’ve upset you,” I murmur.

“I’m alright, it’s just been a weird time,” he plants an almost impossibly tender kiss on the crown of my head, “and I’m edgy.” 

“I know. It’s fair enough. I really didn’t mean that I want you to fail , I want everything for you, I want you to succeed and I know you will, I think that’s why I’m scared, because the possibilities are so endless and your life could take you anywhere-”

“I don’t want anywhere I want here.”

Here feels pretty good, with our legs wound together and his heartbeat beneath my ear. The warmth and darkness he’s made for me in his arms is like a cocoon that I never want to emerge from. He squeezes me as tightly as his restraint will allow him, “Christ,” he says, “I love you so much it’s nuts.”

“I love you too.”

“It’s never like this, not with anyone else. I’ve never felt like this before. I want you to know how serious I am.”

“So intense,” I laugh into his chest and he squeezes an involuntary sound out of me and I squeak like a child’s toy. 

“I love you too much to fight with you. Let’s not do that again.”

“That’d mean I’d have to stop being insane, I think.”

“You’re not insane, don’t say that.”

“My therapist said that.”

“No she did not.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, “She didn’t.”

“What did she say?”

But I’m too cosy to go there right now. I snuggle up against him, and it’s the kind of embrace that makes it easy to forget that hardship and badness exists. “Hmm, I’ll tell you in a sec,” I promise, and bask in blissful feelings for just five more minutes. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[petersbaby]

Study - Gareth Emerson x reader

Warnings: Gareth is kinda pushy and a bit of a perv but nothing is nonconsensual, dry humping, smut, heavy use of “girl” based compliments, praise kink

Gareth is aged up to 18

A/N: don’t worry, I’m not gonna become strictly a Gareth writer I just have a really bad thing for him rn. I’m in love with him, I cannot lie 😐 but I’m also in love with all the other characters too so maybe that doesn’t mean too much lol

-

You were sat in your room on a late Tuesday afternoon.

“Fuck, stop it.” You say, swatting his hand away.

“You don’t mean that.”

Gareth can’t seem to keep his hands to himself while you’re trying to talk to him about math, as you find them wandering up and down your thighs, brushing your cheek, just feeling your skin.

“I do. You know your mom is paying me for this, right? By the hour. You’re actively wasting her money.”

“How am I expected to learn when I’m being tutored by such a pretty girl?”

Gareth looks at you with sweet, almost pleading eyes. You can’t fight the blush that creeps across your cheeks.

“Aww, see, you like that.” He smiles. “I could continue, I could sit here all day showering you with compliments.”

“Yes, fine, I like it a little bit. But we have to be serious.”

He sighs dramatically.

“Alright.”

You get through a page in the workbook uninterrupted, he’s close to you so he can see the pages you’re working from. It’s fine and normal at first, but then he’s so close that he’s brushed your hair to the side and started to kiss your neck.

“Okay, so, this next one, we’re gonna- fuck- we’re gonna solve it by using- ah.”

The words you try to say get lost in the moans that come out around them, and it’s like you’re not in control anymore. You curse your sensitivity because making these sounds is only egging the boy on, fueling his ego.

You feel him smile against your skin when you gasp and whimper involuntarily. You shut your eyes, just for a moment, you tell yourself, to take in the feeling. He worked his way up, kissing along your jawline which makes your mouth fall slightly open, then got to nibbling your earlobe.

“God,” you breathe, trying to muster up some authoritativeness, “really, you- you need to stop.”

“You clearly enjoy it, listen to you. Can’t even talk. Jus’ kiss me, yeah?”

You check the time, you still have 20 minutes left with him. Time has really gone by incredibly slow. Til now, at least. You decide to give the boy what he wants, which is your attention.

You definitely enjoyed his, though you would never ever admit that out loud. You put your pen down and turn to face him, taking his chin between your fingers and pulling his face towards yours and sealing the distance with a kiss. He opens it immediately, tongue asserting dominance before there could even be a fight.

“Jesus.” You mutter, overwhelmed by the insane quickness and force of his kiss. You indulge in it for a couple of minutes, but pull away when it starts to get too heavy. You knew if you got too carried away you’d end up fucking.

“There. You got your kiss, happy now?”

The boy just sits there, lips pink and slightly swollen, the smallest glint of shine from the saliva that remained there as an after affect. Big, dumb eyes, nothing behind them. Not a single thing. You can’t deny he’s cute, you just couldn’t, because you’d be lying to yourself. But you want to do your job, you want to help him academically instead of sexually. Okay, so both. Both could work. Couldn’t it?

“Yeah, wish it was longer though.” He says, pouting slightly.

You don’t know why, but you lean back in. You wanted more too. When you kiss him again, you get out of your chair and he does too. You walk him a few steps backwards to the bed, and he pulls on your waist to bring you closer to him and ultimately into his lap, straddling him.

All of a sudden, the room was hot and the air was thick, the situation felt heavier. He pulled his lips away from yours to return them back to your neck. When he kisses the sensitive skin sloppily, you automatically gasp and push down on him. “Fuck, you’re so sweet.” He comments mindlessly. “So pretty, so sensitive, so easy to turn on.”

“Who says I’m turned on? That’s a bold assumption.” You scold him.

“I just have a feeling,” he shrugs, slyly reaching his hand underneath your skirt and finding an embarrassingly wet pair of panties, “and my feeling was right.”

He doesn’t withdraw his hand, instead lingering to rub gentle circles over your clothed clit. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder and your breathing picks up rapidly.

“You wanna admit it?” He asks cockily.

“No, Gareth, I- god I don’t.”

You find yourself absentmindedly grinding against his fingers, trying to get more from them.

“That’s too bad….” He pulls your panties to the side and rests his finger right up against your entrance, not moving any more past that.

“Please.”

“Say you need me.”

This boy has an insane amount of confidence, his ego is ginormous. He gets what he wants.

“Damn it, Gareth, I hate you.” You desperately try to sink down onto his fingers.

“Alright, alright, no need to get mean.” He slips in his pointer and middle fingers at the same time and curls them. A grin creeps across his face while he stares at you, watching the pleasure express itself in your demeanor. Your mouth parts open slightly, your eyebrows furrow together, and your eyes flutter shut.

“So fucking wet, just like I imagined.”

Of course he’d imagined this.

“Mhm” you reply softly, affirming his observation.

“You make me so hard, you know that? You kill me. Feel this.”

He takes his fingers from out of you, you whimper at the loss, and pushes you down against him, hard as a rock through his jeans.

“Fuck.” You say, halfway out loud and halfway to yourself. He hears it anyway. You start to grind on him, rocking your hips back and forth and trying to find the perfect spot to hump against him. He groans at the feeling and soaks up your eagerness, coming to capture your lips once again. You continue to just make out and grind on him and you feel like you could stay that way forever until you hear a car horn outside.

“Shit, it’s been an hour. Your mom’s here.” You announce, and get off of his lap. He gets up as well.

“Shit, shit, shit. Uhhh, hold on.”

He turns around to seemingly dig in his pants, but he was really trying to find a way to situate his boner and hopefully hide it. He tucks it into his waistband, good enough, and grabs his backpack. He slings it over his shoulder and heads out your door, but a second later, he peeks back in.

“I’ll tell her I’m learning a lot so I need to come back next week.” He winks and you just roll your eyes.

“Get out.”

-

A week later, a couple hours after school, there’s a knock at your front door. You head to it to answer, but look in the peephole first. It was a nervous habit. You only saw a mop of fluffy light hair and knew right away it was Gareth.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” You step aside to let him in and you lead him to your room.

You shut your door behind you both and he dramatically throws off his backpack, dropping it to the floor.

“Where are your manners? And bring that over here, I’m sure you have some homework in there you need to do. I’ll help you.”

“Ughhh.” He groans. “I have a better idea.”

You knew just by the look on his face.

“That was a one-time thing. I fell victim to your shenanigans but I won’t again.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You pull up a chair beside yours at your desk and gesture him to sit.

You think this is gonna be fine, that he’s more tame today. But again, about halfway through, he gets distracted. You sit close together, and he takes his right hand to stroke your inner thigh under the table. You squirm a bit, trying to ignore it. It seems he’s tracing mindless patterns onto your skin above the denim fabric covering it.

“I wanna take a break,” he whines, getting up from his chair and plopping down on your bed.

“Make yourself at home, I guess.” You say, sarcastically.

“Come here.” He says, acting as if he has something interesting to show you, but he didn’t.

“What?” You walk up to him, and he does it again. Pulls you right on top of him.

“I should’ve seen that coming.”

“Indeed you should’ve. Now you’re stuck.” He grips your hips, keeping you against him.

“Cmon, gimme a kiss, pretty girl.”

“Fine. Only because I like it when you call me that.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, and you lean down to connect your lips.

His big, rough hands stay on your hips, but slowly make their way down to your ass. He gives it a light squeeze, and you moan into his mouth.

“So responsive. That’s really hot.”

“Shut up.” You kiss him hard to make him stop talking.

“Nope, sorry, I’m the one in control here.”

He flips you over, now on top of you, and you feel butterflies in your stomach. He takes your wrists and pins them down beside your head.

“And I really wanna fuck you.”

“Do you want me to?” He adds.

“Yes.” You breathe, quietly.

“Good. I’m gonna lock the door.”

He gets up and turns, headed to the door, and you take the opportunity to shed your clothes. You’re left in your bra and panties, waiting for him maybe a little too eagerly.

“Holy shit.” He says when he turns and sees you.

“Thank you, but we don’t have forever. Gotta be quick, okay?” You ask.

“Y-yeah. Okay.”

He begins to take his pants off after his shoes.

He tugs off your panties, then his own underwear, climbing back on top of you. You lift your head up to kiss him, breathing heavy.

“Gare?”

“What?”

“You’re so gonna fail that class.”

“I know. Worth it.”

He runs the head of his cock up and down your slit, dipping between your folds and spreading the wetness, pushing in.

“Oh, fuck, Gareth.”

The slight stretch is intoxicating.

“Yeah, pretty girl? That feel good?”

“Mhmm.”

He applies more pressure, quickly bottoming out inside you, seemingly all at once, making you gasp. Of course, you get a glimpse of his cocky grin and normally you’d want to smack it off his face but now you just wanted to kiss it.

“God, shit, more. More, please.”

He listens to you, quickening his pace, thrusting in and out of your warm, wet, and needy hole.

“Feel so fucking good, so tight. Who’s pussy is this?”

You try to ignore his question, act like you didn’t hear it. You knew the answer, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He grabs you by the throat and looks you in the eyes, suddenly serious and a little scary looking.

“Yours, yours, it’s yours.” You cave in and say it.

“Good girl.”

You clench around him hard and he smiles knowingly.

“Being so good for me, letting me fuck you.”

He’s pounding into you, and you’re struggling to stay reasonably quiet. This was definitely not studying.

“N-needed you to. Wanted you to, so bad.”

“Oh really? For how long?”

“God, since you first came over. Started fucking touching me.”

“You’re jus’ so gorgeous, couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

He had slowed while you had this small dialogue, but picked back up when he saw the need in your eyes.

“I’m close, fuck.”

You decided to push yourself over, keeping in mind you were crunched for time, bringing your dominant hand to the spot where the two of you connected and rubbing your clit with fervor.

“Yeah? Go ahead, pretty.”

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna ah- please, Gareth.”

“Good girl, come on.”

He maintains his speed, driving his cock in and out of you. That, combined with the stimulation on your clit, quickly sent you tumbling off the edge, legs shaking as the orgasm wrecked your body. The moans you were letting out were pornographic and likely quite loud, you prayed no one could hear you in the back of your mind but you didn’t care much at all in that moment.

He’s panting, now, open mouth and hair even messier than usual. He looks down at you as you shake, aftershocks tingling in your whole body. His thrusts become sloppy, inconsistent, and random and he pulls out just in time to spill onto your stomach, pumping every bit he had in him out.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that was good. You’re so good.” He says softly, still panting.

You heard a car in the driveway and knew she was here before she even honked. The sound brings him back to reality, and he seems mad about it.

“Listen, fuck the tutoring thing, alright? Let’s just hang out. There won’t be a time limit and we won’t have to try to pretend to care about my C minus in algebra.”

You giggle. “Sounds good. I guess we can be friends with benefits, maybe more, who knows.”

You rushed out the last part, mumbling it on purpose because you got scared but it was too late to go back.

“Yeah. Maybe more.” He smiled. He heard you.

You both got yourselves together, and he started to get his stuff. His papers were still on your desk, halfway blank. He goes to grab them, but you interrupt.

“I’ll finish the homework, okay? Just this once.”

You lift a single finger as a warning and cocked your eyebrow.

“Okay.”

He slips out of your door, sees himself out, and just like that, he’s gone.

[headintheclouds-posts]

Hiiii, how are you? 😀 I've been feeling pretty sick since Tuesday because I have allergic rhinitis so, if your requests are still open, can you please write a JungKook x reader with the timestamp [15:28] where he's taking care of Y/n because they are sick? (Y/n could be sulking and crying because they don't feel better even after taking their medications 😞). Thank you in advance, take care! 🫶

Hello my lovely, I hope you’re feeling better. ♥️

15:28:

You look at the time on your phone, shocked that you managed to stay awake this long as all you could think of was climbing under the covers and blocking the world out. The past several days you felt as though you were coming down with something. Initially you had started with a slightly itchy nose causing you to occasionally sneeze but now your nose was fully blocked and your eyes were sore and watery.

Luckily you were working from home today and your boss had finally persuaded you to switch off your laptop and get some rest, something that your body was begging for.

You allowed your body to hit the mattress and you pulled the covers over your head to block out any form of light that could cause your banging head to get any worse. As you snuggle further into the warmth of your bed, you fail to hear the bedroom door open and soon after you could hear your name being called from outside your cocoon.

“Y/n” the voice calls out.

You slowly drag your tired body up to look your boyfriend in the eyes. Upon seeing your face he can’t help but feel concerned and the neediness to be taken care of suddenly hits you.

“Oh my poor baby” Jungkook cooed pulling you into his warm chest, rubbing his finger tips into the small of your back.

You had managed to hold it together absolutely fine so far, but now in the presence of the person you love, you can’t help the emotions that take over and your bottom lip starts to tremble.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t realise you weren’t yourself, work has been so busy the past few days and I should of been paying you more attention” he exclaims pulling you even further in, so you were curled up into his warmth.

“It’s fine baby, it’s not your fault. I just need to…” before you can even finish your sentence he cuts you off and lifts you to look into his loving doe eyes.

“No, you don’t need to do anything, I am going to take care of you. All you need to do is rest and I will wait on you hand and foot” he proclaims, causing you to smile at his words.

His hands find their way up into your hair as he guides you towards his lips and presses sweet kisses to your face before laying you back down and wrapping the covers around your body. Though it was a loving action, you automatically reached your hands out towards him, missing his touch already.

“I am just going to get you some medicine and water and then I will be straight back, can you wait just a few minutes for me” Jungkook smiles as you nod sulkily.

He soon returns with some warm soup and a large bottle of water. “Take these” he says, holding out his hand to provide you with some painkillers which you drink back with the crisp water.

“Thank you” you sigh out, resting your head back on the pillow as the exhaustion slowly creeps further on to your tired body. It wasn’t long before Jungkook slid under the covers next to you and motioned for you to rest against his chest. His body was warm and comforting which helped lull you further towards your dreams.

“You don’t have to stay here with me” you mumble, rubbing your nose against him, “I know you have loads to take care of”.

He sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “All those things can wait, at the end of the day all that really matters is you, so sleep my love and I will be here when you wake up”.

[strawbubbysugar]

Howdy! I have a few questions if that’s okay!

Does Hello use gen-z words like “lit”, “no cap” and “goat” and stuff like that, or do the white-coats not allow that?

Also what is the age range of kids in the Testing Fun Zone?

Also also was Hello automatically good at skating or did it take him a bit to learn it?

Also also also what was the most nerve-wracking scenario Hello’s ever dealt with regarding child safety when he knew the white coats were watching?

Also also also also how much access to the internet does Hello have? Or where does his knowledge-base come from to answer kids’ questions (the knowledge that isn’t automatically programmed into him, I mean)?

Thank you!!

Absolutely I love answering questions!!!

They tried it out, and it didn’t test well with parents. Since parents are the ones buying the products, they scrapped it. Hello misses saying bet

The kids come in different marketing age ranges throughout the week, with new kids every week. Hello has rarely seen the same child twice.

Monday: 2-6y/o

Tuesday: 7-10y/o

Weds: adjustment and testing day, usually involving stress tests like seeing how hard his body can work under pressure

Thursday: 11-13y/o

Friday: 14-16y/o.

They cut off the demo groups there, since they’re only marketing parents and children right now. They’ve already tested him with older teens and adults, and he tested very positively.

Hello went through a LOT of adjustments to be good at skating. Tweaking his balance, his reflexes, etc. all of that was also good for helping him get good at walking too.

A child slipped off of the jungle gym once before they had the foam mats, and they broke their nose on the ground. All of the blood sent goodbye into near hysterics, and terrified him. He did his best, and helped the child back to their mother, but he wasn’t gentle enough and he ended up making the child cry more. That was a bad day.

Hello has 0 internet access, only access to an internalized database from a WOW built source. It’s very large and extensive, but it’s also thoroughly propagandized. It’s like if Disney owned Wikipedia and made changes to paint themselves in the best light possible. He does have to go looking for the information when he needs it, however. It isn’t always in his head- otherwise it would take up too much storage space

[xoxiu]

first love of late spring - ot7 x reader

chapter five table of contents masterlist join the taglist discord

summary: falling, falling, falling- that's what you shouldn't be doing as a young intern at hybe. falling in love with your supervisor is frowned upon, especially all seven of them. you'll never learn, will you? guess you’ll just have to be their dark secret.

tags/warnings: intern!reader, poly relationships, stockholm syndrome, age regression, spanking, drug use, sugar daddy au, dubcon, body dysmorphia

taglist: @frieschan

"Thank you for joining me, y/n."

You looked up from your tea, giving Jungkook a soft smile. The two of you grew very close recently, often going on little dates to the various small restaurants around Seoul. This one, in particular, was your favorite- it was all cute and pink and had amazing decorations to take photos with. Jimin had introduced you to the small cafe, as it was a favorite of his. 

Sometimes the other members would join the two of you for lunch, but Jungkook was always there. Every Tuesday at 13:00, you'd get a text from him telling you to meet him outside. He would wait for you no matter the weather, and greet you with a small and a side hug. You would never admit it, but you found the way he treated you attractive. How consistent it was, how he would even be slightly dressed up, how he always listened deeply to you and actively engaged in conversations- it was everything you needed. 

Jungkook was a gentleman. 

"I think this should be the last snow of the season," Jungkook remarked as the two of you exited the building. "Spring is coming soon- it's almost April." 

"I hope so," you said, staring up at the snow gracefully falling towards the earth. A small flake landed on the tip of your nose. "I love spring. It feels like new beginnings."

Jungkook's hand brushed yours, and you moved your hand away out of instinct. You looked down at his hand, and then up at his face. He blushed from the bitter cold before meeting your eyes. This time, he grabbed your hand with purpose and continued the walk back as if nothing happened. 

"Jungkook," you quietly protested, but never let go of his hand. "Someone could see."

"Let them."

You kept looking around to see if someone was watching, but everyone around you kept moving along with their day. No one paid the two of you any mind. You looked down at your feet and blushed. 

The comeback was only a week away. Every day felt painfully long and busy, yet time always seemed to fly by. There just weren't enough hours in the day to do everything that you wanted. You sat in the lounge alone, now lovingly dubbed your 'office' by your coworkers because you were the only one to ever be there. They all knew you would be in there, so coworkers were always in and out asking you questions. Of course, you would always answer them and have a quick chat with a smile, but once they left your demeanor would switch. Working a more corporate-type job always left you wondering why some conversations couldn't have just been an email. Human interaction wasn't always necessary. 

The schedule for today had been posted. By 11:00 you needed to upload the teaser music video for BTS' new single from the album. You thanked whoever created the queue feature for most social media sites, allowing you to automatically post something right on time with ease. Having to have all social posts on different sites go up at the same time without it was stressful. 

After queuing everything up to post, you leaned back on the couch, closing your eyes for a moment to just breathe. Your eyes soon grew heavy as you went in and out of consciousness. Namjoon looked down at his phone. He grew more and more concerned and worried as you continued to miss his calls. After the fifth attempt, he began walking to the lounge he knew you were in. 

He could see you through the window as he walked up to the door. You were curled up on the couch in the fetal position. Namjoon could tell you were out cold- completely dead to the world. He quietly opened the door, tiptoeing his way over to you. 

Gently, he shook your shoulder to try to wake you. You groaned in protest before suddenly realizing you fell asleep. Your eyes snapped open and you shot up from the couch. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Oh my god, what time is it?" You asked, shaking your computer mouse to wake your laptop. The screen lit up with notifications of missed meetings and the current time- 13:32. 

You had missed lunch with Jungkook. 

"Woah, calm down," Namjoon sat down next to you, putting a reassuring arm over your shoulder. You tensed up but eventually relaxed into it. You just needed the grounding the new weight on your shoulders gave you. 

"It's fine. You've done enough work today," Namjoon kept trying to calm you down, your heartbeat slowly going back to normal along with your breaths. 

"I had a meeting with Jungkook at-"

"I know, I know. He's busy with dance practice right now." Namjoon removed his arm and stood up. "I think you should go home and rest. You did well. I'll walk you home."

Namjoon had such a calming presence, you thought to yourself. It was in the tone he spoke in as well as his words. He was much older and wiser than you, and out of anyone you took his advice to heart. While he looked intimidating on the outside, he had the purest heart and wisest soul.

"You work too hard," Namjoon stated as the two of you walked through the building. "With the comeback and all, I think we all need a good rest once it's all done."

"You're one to talk," you said, lightly elbowing Namjoon in the side. "I think you guys are overworked. Once the album comes out, my workload lightens. You seven still have performances, concerts, and a world tour after."

Namjoon chuckled at your statement. He knew it was hard and stressful, especially with the tour coming up in May, but it was nothing they hadn't done before. You, on the other hand, were completely new to this. While school taught you social media marketing, they never taught you just how stressful it would be managing the social media accounts for the most famous idol group in the world. Nothing could have prepared you for this. 

The weather finally seemed to liven up the past few days. The air was no longer bitter cold, snow no longer littered the ground, and you could see the sprouts of future flowers. It smelt fresh outside, and you just felt an overwhelming sense of joy from the changing of the seasons. 

You lead Namjoon down to your basement studio apartment. From the look on his face, he was rather shocked at just how tiny the space was. There was just enough room for the two of you to comfortably stand in the kitchen together. 

"Thank you for walking me home, Joon." You smiled at him as you sat down on your sofa bed. The older man just continued to look around at your barren apartment. 

"You know, you can stay at my place anytime you'd like," he offered, doing a double take when he spotted the molding kitchen counters. "I'm rarely there, and it has a beautiful view of the Han River."

"Oh, thank you," you said and politely declined his offer. You don't know what you would have done with a huge apartment, and you felt like staying in his apartment would just be too kind of him. You had a place to sleep and live, and you were happy. 

"Or just come visit the dorm again- you're always welcome there."

Many nights now you had crashed on their couch, usually after a long night of gaming and drinking. Occasionally you would do something work-related, like film videos or discuss future posting schedules. One time, you had to sit in on a livestream alone to make sure everything went smoothly. You usually had a partner with you, but the late-night, post-show live was a spur-of-the-moment decision. 

Namjoon ruffled your hair before leaving. You smiled at the door after his exit. 

You had been working at HYBE for about six months now. In six months, you managed not to be fired, get a promotion, and make seven amazing friends. How lucky could you be? Namjoon was like a smart and kind older brother. Seokjin and Hoseok were so, so silly yet somehow maintained a level of strictness and authority. You could always rely on Yoongi to give you unbiased opinions as well as just someone to listen to your problems without judgment. Taehyung and Jimin always managed to get you out of your shell whether you liked it or not. And Jungkook, he especially made you feel wanted. 

Jungkook. Whenever you thought of him, something inside you fluttered. He had always quite literally looked at you differently than the others. His eyes never seemed to leave you, and whenever your eyes would meet you'd have to look away with a blush. He knew what he wanted from you, and you think you know as well. 

You all were just friends, of course, but you couldn't help but think deeply about their actions. What exactly were their intentions? You closed your eyes with a sigh. In your mind, you pictured them. Their eyes, mouths, hands. You became intimate with them over the months, kilometers more than what an employee relationship should be. It wasn't your fault you thought so deeply about their every move, wondering if there could be something more. 

A college friend of yours from America had multiple boyfriends while in school, and they were all aware of each other. It was abnormal, but everyone seemed happy and fulfilled in the relationship. Polyamory, she had called it. You couldn't help but picture yourself in her position- seven boyfriends who all loved and cared for you. No matter what you looked like, or what you did, they just wanted you for you.

You wanted to feel wanted.

You wanted their wandering touches, their reassurances, their love. You craved it. Never once had a man looked at you with desire and love, making you feel less than the other girls who had perfect bodies, perfect personalities, and perfect men. Just once, you wanted to feel what unconditional love meant. 

A tear slowly rolled down the side of your face. In your heart and mind, you knew they didn't think of you like that. You were just a staff member to them, a friend at most. 

[lemonhemlock]

ASOIAF fandom is so hilarious to observe on a sociological level because why are there countless stans who have an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the entire history of Westeros but cannot pick up the most obvious themes and foreshadowing. There are users who can tell me what the Red Keep chimney sweep overheard Maegor saying to one of his 977578 wives on a random Tuesday in 109 A.C. word for word, but does not believe that there is any foreshadowing for Dark Dany, Dany won't burn KL, and even if she does burn KL Martin won't frame it as a bad thing because things like mass casualties happen in war all the time.

I'm sorry but this is insane dfndfndfndfns like it's crazy? It's the most 'cannot see the forest for the trees' fandom I have ever experienced and it's honestly just baffling to witness.

This is a very interesting observation and I think part of the reasoning is certainly rose-coloured glasses & bias for one's favourite character(s). But, IMO, this environment has also festered in the last 12+ years since the publishing of ADWD because people are going nuts with such a large gap between books.

The quandary is that, despite the staunch and sometimes aggressive discourse on the matter, the series has been left in such a spot that really lends itself to various, sometimes contradictory, interpretations (if one is willing to give grace to others and not automatically assume everyone else is shortsighted or peace spoilers). No one likes hearing this because they all have put so much stock into being right by now,* but the truth is that, if you want to mount an argument for Saviour Dany, you can cherry pick some elements from the text, such as Dany's empathy for enslaved people, her emotional thought process, her striving to be kind and just etc - all of which are true enough, because Daenaerys is, thankfully, a well-crafted character and not a two-dimensional white girl pastiche. Likewise, if you're a Dark!Dany belieber (sic) like myself, you're going to be drawn to other recurring motifs in her story, such as her entitlement to a throne that doesn't "belong" to her, her unwillingness to examine her family's problematic past and history with violence, her eagerness to employ that violence in her quest for queenship, her equating social liberation with her simultaneously being at the top of the pyramid, her disinterest in what the people of Westeros actually want, her belief that her decisions are always correct and morally righteous etc.

So, to expand on this example further, could someone really craft a further two books where Daenerys turns into this benevolent queen who comes to be loved by the people of Westeros for selflessly saving them from the ice monsters? Of course someone could, anyone can do anything. Would it be a good story? LOL. Would it be in line with the themes already developed? Double LOL. ASOIAF could also turn out to be a bad story, you know! There's always that possibility. IMO the seeds for her downfall are already there, but the truth is that they're not exceptionally overt for a lot of readers and so they find them hard to accept. If evil why friend-shaped etc.

If everything had gone to plan, these insane debates would not have had time to get so out of hand, because we would have had TWOW published 5-6 years ago and things would have become clearer by now. It's just that GRRM left us off in murky waters, with a text that's ambiguous enough in some places and a fandom that likes to one up each other and is bored enough to seek entertainment in trench wars & endless arguing. And Dany is just one point of contention, you have people out there fighting for their lives about Sansa, about whether Young Gryff is Rhaegar's son or not, about Stannis being the proper ruler for Westeros etc. Something that irks me is how a lot of these fans become so belligerent and can't just accept that sometimes the text we have so far is just vague! Because the story is unfinished! Sometimes it's really not just because everyone else is stupid or racist or misogynist, the text really IS lacking, with two full books missing.

*We also live in rather peculiar times, socially-wise, with the advent of content creators that have literally gone on to make an entire livelihood out of commenting on ASOIAF and presenting theories. Since people are so bored and desperate for some kind of content, they flock to these BNFs and that contributes to the popular interpretations being recycled. When you quit your day job to do this full-time, you kind of become dependent on your audience and feel the need to tell them what they want to hear because otherwise your paycheck is affected. And no one is really eager to forgo paying next month's rent because of something silly like criticising Dany online. This, in turn, influences new fans coming in and searching for information on their favourite characters, so when they encounter the popular talking points for years, of course they're going to take it at face value, because so many people can't be wrong, right?