#anyway i had a great night. food coma time.

[sporesmoldandfungi]

roll with me - marty mcfly x reader

A/N : yes i know my tumblr is mainly ghostbusters related things but im in a bttf phase rn and there's not enough marty mcfly works. i will probably make this a series until i run out of gas lol. ignore any grammar and spelling errors, i typed this at two am last night :))))) enjoy!!

"God damn it, McFly..." she muttered under her breath, seeing her grandfather's house in a complete mess. It looked like a tornado had flown through the already messy and cluttered home. Walking over pieces of broken metal and random items cluttering the floor, she reached the workbench. On top of it, lay a note in messy handwriting.

Sorry about the mess, I couldn't resist trying the new amp. Promise I'll come by sometime to make it up to you. See you tonight.

-Marty

She crumpled the note and threw it over her shoulder to join the rest of the mess. She couldn't for the life of her understand why her grandfather, a brilliant albeit cooky scientist, chose to keep Marty McFly as company.

Sure, he was funny, kind, sometimes charming, and was nothing but good to Doc, but Y/N still didn't understand what he saw in Marty. He wasn't as smart as her. He was careless. He didn't even have a real interest in science. The better question would be, why did Marty McFly hang around Doc Brown?

Their relationship often crossed her mind, seeing as she often had to fight Marty for her grandfather's attention, and it was also downright strange. Nevertheless, she had to get used to Marty, it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere.

Y/N tinkered on the leftover gadgets Doc had entrusted her with to finish while he was gone. She looked at the many clocks that littered the walls.

4:25

"Four o'clock. Okay, Brown, you've got..." She stopped to look at her wristwatch. "About nine hours to get this place back together for Pop."

She picked up the broom and began sweeping up piles of the broken amplifier. As she cleaned the destroyed living room, her thoughts kept going back to Marty. For all the good qualities he had, he sure was selfish. 'I'll make it up to you sometime.' my ass.

It took her until nightfall to finish cleaning the house, including the rotting dog food her grandfather left in Einstein's bowl. She made herself a quick meal and plopped in front of the TV, catching the last few stories from the ten o'clock news.

She eventually dozed off, the TV still playing in the background. Just before she was about to drift into a deep sleep, she heard the backdoor creak open then close quietly. She opened up one eye to see Marty tiptoeing through the room.

"Hey, McFly." Y/N said, yawning and sitting up.

He jumped at the sound of her voice, turning around to see her rubbing her eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand awkwardly. "Hey, Y/N. You picked up the place pretty quickly."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, thanks for that mess by the way, it was a great way to start my weekend. What are you doing here anyways? I thought I was meeting you at the Twin Pines Mall?"

"Doc asked me to pick up the camera on my way there. Probably a good thing I stopped by, from the looks of it, you were about to go into a coma." He smirked.

"Shut up." She muttered.

As Marty looked for the camera, she threw her acid wash jacket on and began lacing up her high tops. By the time she started grabbing her scooter from the spare closet, he had found the camera and was carrying it triumphantly.

He slung it around his shoulder, following Y/N out the door. She mounted the scooter, waiting for Marty to grab his skateboard. He looked her up and down and chuckled.

She frowned, "What's so funny, McFly?"

"When are you finally gonna let me teach you to ride in style, Y/N? You look like a kindergartener on that thing."

"You talk a big game. Are you forgetting I beat you almost every time we race?" She smirked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He mocked. Marty got situated, ready to take off. "Come on, Y/N, no more kid stuff or we're gonna be late."

She smirked, "What's wrong McFly? Chicken?"

She saw him freeze and turn around slowly. "What did you call me?"

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, keeping the scooter upright by balancing it between her knees. "You heard me."

Marty approached her angrily, waving a finger in her face. "No one calls me chicken, Brown, nobody."

Their noses were almost touching as he stared down at her. She looked up at him, internally flustered, externally smug. "We'll see about that."

In a flash, she took off towards the mall, leaving Marty speechless in the dust. He quickly got back on his skateboard, hurrying to catch up with her. Marty could see Y/N's head thrown back, laughing to herself as she rode ahead. Although he was pissed, he couldn't help but smile to himself at the sight of her. He had been trying for as long as he knew her, to be her friend. While her grandfather, Doc Brown, was one of the friendliest people he had ever met, his granddaughter, Y/N was as stubborn as a mule. She never flashed her charming smile his way unless it was at his expense. They had a lot in common. Their uncommon modes of transportation, their love of rock n' roll, their love of Doc. Yet, there she stood, relishing in his humility.

They continued the race all the way up to the mall. Although Marty had tried to catch up, the head start Y/N got proved to be just enough for her to win. He kicked up the skateboard, sticking it under his armpit and jogging towards Doc and Y/N, who was already talking excitedly with him.

Doc heard the footsteps and turned to face him, his face lighting up at the sight of the boy. "Marty! You made it! Did you bring the camera?"

Marty checked to see if it was still slung around his shoulder, it was. "Yeah, yeah. Where have you been the past week, Doc?"

"I've been working on something big, Marty, something very big. I've been waiting thirty years for this day." Doc said, walking around the large truck parked beside them. Y/N and Marty followed behind, seeing Einstein as they turned the corner. They both pet him as they continued to follow Doc. The three of them stopped in front of the parked DeLorean.

Doc and Y/N smiled at the sight of it, while Marty looked confused. "A DeLorean?"

"All of your questions will be answered soon, Marty. Roll the tape. Y/N, make sure he's getting all of this." Doc instructed, standing by the DeLorean.

They both nodded. Marty held up the camera, beginning to record while Y/N watched.

Doc cleared his throat before speaking. "Good evening. I'm Dr. Emmett Brown. I'm standing on the parking lot at Twin Pines Mall. It's Saturday morning, October 26, 1985, 1:18 a.m., and this is temporal experiment number one." He paused for a moment, then turned his attention to Einstein. "Come on, Einie. Hey, hey, boy, get in there."

Doc opened the door to the driver's seat, helping the dog into the front seat. "That a boy! In you go. Sit down. Put your seat belt on. That's it." He instructed, getting the obedient dog situated.

The confusion on Marty's face grew as he looked on. Doc leaned down to hold up his watch as well as the one hanging around Einstein's neck. Doc held it up towards the camera. Y/N nudged Marty, motioning for him to zoom in on the clocks.

"Please note that Einstein's clock is in precise synchronization with my control watch." Doc put the watches down and double checked that Marty was getting all of this.

Marty gave him a thumbs up and Doc began closing the door, then joining the two in front of the car. He pulled out a remote control from his pocket and began pushing the joysticks forward. Marty looked at it and asked, "You got that thing hooked up to the car?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, "No shit, Sherlock."

The DeLorean began to rumble with the sound of the engine. Marty was still focused on the remote.

Doc smiled, pushing the joysticks forward, "Watch this." The DeLorean began to move, but Marty was still distracted. Y/N rolled her eyes again and grabbed the camera, moving it to focus on the car. The DeLorean turned sharply and lined up in front of the three, albeit from all the way across the lot. Doc looked at the two teens, smirking. "If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour, you're gonna see some serious shit."

The tires screeched loudly before accelerating quickly towards the group. As the car got closer, Marty tried moving away before the car reached them, Doc and Y/N both pulled him back. He looked at the two, seeing that they both had the same crazy, wild-eyed expression on their faces. His attention was quickly drawn back to the fast-approaching car. Just as the car was about to hit them, a bright light flashed and the car disappeared, leaving only behind two trails of fires where the wheels would be. The three of them turned around, looking at the empty lot behind them. Doc and Y/N began cheering, jumping up and down and running in circles. Marty, still confused, stared on.

He heard the two talking to each other, breaking his prior concentration. He quickly approached them, "Jesus Christ, Doc! You disintegrated Einstein!"

Doc turned to the confused and frightened teen. "Calm down, Marty. I didn't disintegrate anything. The molecular structure of the car and Einstein are completely intact!"

"Then where the hell are they!?" He screamed, pacing.

"Not where, McFly, when." Y/N smirked.

"You see, Einstein has just become the world's first time traveler. I sent him into the future. One minute into the future, to be exact. At precisely 1:21 a.m. and zero seconds, we shall catch up with him and the time machine." Doc explained, the joy still spread on his face.

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Doc. Are you trying to tell me that you built a time machine out of a DeLorean?" Marty asked, not believing what he was hearing.

"The way I see it, if you're going to build a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style? Besides, the stainless-steel construction made the flux dispersal..." Doc started, but the beeping of his watch interrupted him. He quickly grabbed Marty, "Watch out!"

Marty instinctively grabbed ahold of Y/N pulling her away along with him, just as the DeLorean came speeding back into the parking lot. The car was covered in ice, steam protruding off of it. As Doc ran to the car, ready to open the door, Mary and Y/N stood back. They both looked down at their interlaced fingers and blushed. Y/N was the first to let go, shaking her hand slightly as she walked towards Doc and the car.

After seeing that Einstein was okay and intact, Marty finished filming the last bits of the dog's short journey through time, how the machine worked, and Doc reliving the day he first came up with the idea of time travel before Doc ushered him and Y/N away to put on radiation suits. They entered the large van and began suiting up. The air was thick with a tension that was unknown to either one of them. Marty was the first to attempt to break the silence.

"So, uh, you knew about this time travel thing, and you didn't tell me?"

She scoffed, "Why would I tell you, McFly?"

He zipped up the suit, walking over to her. "You can't just ignore it, Y/N."

She was looking down, putting her legs into the suit. "Ignore what?"

"Me. Us."

She looked up, seeing the seriousness in his face. "What do you mean us?"

"You mean to tell me you didn't feel what I felt back there?" he asked.

She stood up, sliding the rest of the suit on. "Excitement? I mean who wouldn't be when they witnessed time travel? It's not something you see every day, McFly."

"Goddamn it, Y/N. I'm being serious." Marty said, running his hand through his hair.

"So am I, you aren't very direct when you speak." She said, beginning to walk away.

He groaned and grabbed her by the waist pulling her close to him. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him with the same doe-eyed expression that she had when their hands were intertwined. Still holding her to his chest, he took one hand and pointed at her face. "That, that face. It tells me that you feel the same way I do whenever we touch."

She let herself be held by him, before snapping back into reality and pushing herself off. She walked towards the door, opening it. "Come on, Doc's probably wondering what's taking so long."

Marty watched as she left, thinking to himself, "Why does she have to be so goddamn stubborn?"

He joined them outside, listening to the tail end of their conversation. "... so, I took their Plutonium, and I gave them a shoddy bomb casing full of used pinball machine parts!"

"Pop... that's really dangerous, are you sure it's under control?" Y/N asked, concern lacing her face.

Doc waved off her words, "Never mind that, Marty, get that camera ready. Y/N, grab my luggage from the truck and bring it here. " The teens followed Doc's instructions as he took his seat in the driver's seat. Y/N finally joined Marty's side, who was already filming Doc.

"I, Dr. Emmett Brown, am about to embark on an historic journey." Doc began but stopped and chuckled to himself. "What am I thinking of? I almost forgot to bring extra plutonium. How did I ever expect to get back? One pellet, one trip. I must be out of my mind." He stood up, walking over to his equipment, but stopped when he heard Einstein barking. Doc walked over to the barking creature, "What is it Einie?" His face then drained of all color, and he looked on in horror.

Marty and Y/N shared a worried glance before joining him at his side.

Doc began to speak, still looking ahead in horror. "They found me, I don't know how, but they found me."

Marty and Y/N followed his stare and saw a small, green van suddenly turn its headlights on as it drove towards them. Einstein quickly ran into the safety of Doc's equipment van. The three of them could make out the figure of a man standing out of the sunroof. Doc turned to the two and quickly pushed them away.

"Run for it!" He cried.

Marty quickly grabbed Y/N's hand and ran back towards the DeLorean. She gripped his hand tightly as they looked at Doc as the headlight shone brighter and brighter on him. They watched as he raised his hands in surrender. The car screeched to a stop, and they saw the man in the sunroof aim a large gun at Doc. Y/N started to run towards her grandfather, but the man had already opened fire on Doc. She screamed and fell to her knees.

Marty stood behind her, tears filing his eyes. He screamed out, "No! You bastards!"

The man's attention was now on the mourning pair. Marty watched as the man began to aim his gun at Y/N's head as she crawled towards Doc's lifeless body. Marty ran forward, tackling her and moving her out of the way as bullets ricocheted off the pavement next to them. He shielded her body with his own. They both braced for the impact of the bullets but heard the gun clicking instead. Marty lifted his head to see the gunman struggling with the weapon. He quickly pulled Y/N up and led her toward the idle DeLorean. He threw open the passenger's door, practically tossing the mourning Y/N into the seat. He followed suit, hopping into the driver's seat. Marty quickly turned on the ignition and sped away from the men who from the looks of it, finally got their weapon back in working order.

The bullets were heard on either side of the vehicle, just barely missing it. Y/N screamed as Marty continued to drive as fast as he could. The Libyan's van grew closer and closer as Marty frantically tried to drive out of the mall's parking lot. The DeLorean shook as the Libyan's van hit the back bumper.

Marty looked down at the speedometer, "Let's see if you bastards can do 90."

Y/N's eyes widened, "No!"

He looked at her confused then back at the rapidly increasing speed. He watched as it climbed closer and closer to 90. "What's the problem? You want to end up like Doc? Or do you wanna get the hell out of here?"

"McFly, do you remember what happens when the car hits 88 miles an hour?" She asked, watching as the speedometer reached top speeds.

Marty's eyes widened in fear, realizing what was about to happen. Before he could step on the brakes, the car lit up with blinding, blue light. The light temporarily blinded both of them as the car went back to driving in complete darkness. As Marty's vision adjusted back to normal, his eyes widened as the DeLorean hit a pine tree.

"Look out!" Y/N shouted as they drove towards a lone barn in the distance.

Marty tried to get the car to turn, but it was too late, the DeLorean hurled through the side of the bar, crash-landing in a pile of hay. They both groaned at the impact. Marty began undoing his seatbelt, once free, he turned his attention to the girl next to him. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her eyes not meeting his. She was fixated on something in front of them. Marty followed her gaze and saw a light coming from one of the barn doors. He turned to Y/N, "Stay here, I'm gonna check this out."

He opened the driver's door, bumping his head as he exited, making his radiation helmet fly over his head. From inside the helmet, he could make out the silhouettes of two adults and two children. He was also able to make out the sound of their frightened screams, no doubt afraid that Marty was an intruder. He raised his hands up in defense, trying to calm them down. As he stepped through the large hay pile towards the family, he saw one of the adults raise what looked like a shotgun up at him.

"Shit!" he cried, flinging himself back in the car.

As the figure fired the first shot, Marty had already driven back out of the barn and away from the family. He found a road and sharply turned on it, still speeding away.

"Okay, McFly. Get a grip on yourself, this is all a dream. It's just a very intense dream." Marty said to himself as he drove. He turned to face Y/N who looked as frantic and confused as he was. "This has to be a dream, right?"

Before she could respond, her eyes widened, and she quickly reached for the steering wheel. Marty looked ahead and saw the approaching vehicle she was trying to avoid. She turned it sharply, making them swerve to the side. Marty slammed on the brakes before they made an impact with the car. They were both panting, having just escaped death three times in five minutes.

Marty and Y/N both stepped out of the vehicle, approaching the black car in front of them. They walked to the driver's side window, seeing an older couple in the front seats. They both looked frightened at the sight of the two strangely dressed teens. Marty leaned his head down, to talk to the man driving.

"Hey, listen, you got to help us," Marty said to the man, but his wife was urging him to drive away. The old man took one glance at Marty and Y/N before hitting the gas and speeding away from them.

Marty groaned, walking back towards Y/N. She was leaning against the hood of the DeLorean, staring ahead. "Y/N?" he asked, trying to get her attention, but she continued to stare. He groaned again and placed his hands on her shoulders, slightly shaking her. "Y/N, you got to help out here. Where the hell are we?"

Y/N finally met his gaze. His eyes were wide and full of confusion. He had sweat forming in the base of his hair, starting to travel down the sides of his face. He looked at her with so much emotion, hoping she could somehow make this all go away. She gently removed his hands from her shoulder and spun him to face what she was looking at. She pointed ahead, "Does that give you a hint?"

Marty followed her finger to see the entrance to his neighborhood. Only there was no neighborhood, no houses, no streets. Just the two pieces of stone that read Lyon Estates. He looked to the side and saw a billboard advertising the neighborhood that was still not built. His eyes widened once more, realizing the gravity of their situation.

"It can't be." He whispered.

Y/N walked back towards the passenger seat, starting to take off her radiation suit. Marty stared ahead for only a moment before opening the driver's door. He sat down beside her, attempting to turn the car back on.

"Don't even bother." Y/N said, making Marty stop his actions and look at her. "It won't work. Remember what Doc said, it needs Plutonium to run. One pellet, one trip."

"So, are you trying to tell me we're stuck here? Wherever the hell this is." Marty asked.

She stood up, stepping out of the suit, tossing it in the car. She ignored his question, instead saying, "Come on, help me push it behind that billboard. We got to go into town, so I can figure out a way for us to get out of here."

Y/N slammed the door shut, making Marty jump. He quickly threw off his radiation suit and joined Y/N at the back of the car. They pushed it off the road and into the field, rolling it behind the large billboard for Lyon Estates. Y/N wiped her hands on her jeans before walking back onto the road, making Marty follow suit. They both began walking to where the black car had driven off. Neither of them said a word to each other, both too caught up in their thoughts to speak. Marty looked up to see a road sign that read,

Hill Valley: 2 Miles

"This is heavy."

[hotnbloodied]

Yan!Zhongli X Chubby Baker Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: Kidnapping, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!!

5AM; it was time to wake up and start your work day as a baker in Liyue! Bakeries are the best way to start the day in Liyue, the varieties of baked goods and with the combo of a tea to start the day there’s nothing better here! You were one of those bakers that worked at a popular bakery owned by your uncle. The staff was all related to you in some way, but unlike them you were a little more on the heavy side. You always joked that it’s because you have a bond with your bread and that’s why it tastes so good!

It was around 6AM when one of your siblings and a cousin came in for their shift at the counter. Your sibling yawned before saying good morning and your cousin started putting on their uniform. There weren't many people in the morning time but some people take freshness seriously so there were a couple of regulars. One of them being a tall man with an otherworldly aura around him at times. Zhongli was his name and when he saw you he always tried to make conversation with you. Of course you didn't think too much of it, that’s how regulars are after all.

It was one particular morning where you stepped outside the store to take a break, another baker was on staff so you could afford it. It was when you noticed the tall figure getting closer. “Oh [y/n] I don’t see you out like this often,” he says. “Yeah, just feeling the heat of the oven more than usual this time,” you said with a smile. “Is something bothering you?” You blushed, he got it right on the nose. “Actually, my parents have been nagging me on finding a spouse soon.” The man in the brown formalwear twitched slightly, “is that so?” “But I spend all my time focusing on the shop that I just don’t think about anything else you know?” “I see.”

You sighed deeply, “hey, maybe you can help me find a spouse. You seem to know a lot of people. Got anyone looking to date?” Zhongli stiffened before a smile came across his face, “well, I’m single, maybe I can interest you in dinner sometime?” You looked at him slightly bewildered. There was no way that a man with the caliber of Zhongli who’s got it all in looks and knowledge is asking you in all your fluff right? Is it a joke? “You can’t joke with me like that Zhongli,” you said with a light hearted laugh. A dangerous glint came over the man’s eyes before disappearing as fast as it came. “I’ve been meaning to treat you out to dinner anyway, as friends?” You looked back at him, “that sounds good!” “Are you free tonight?”

Later that night you were over at Zhongli’s place of residence. Apparently, he was a great chef too! “Wow Zhongli, you’re a man of many talents,” you praise him after the two of you had dinner. “Thank you, I also happen to be a man of many secrets,” he said with a straight face. You didn’t know if you were tired from work today or if it was the food coma but you were getting drowsy. “Um, I should probably get going,” you stumbled a little to get up from your chair. “Oh my, are you okay?” “I–”

Everything went black and the next time you woke up you were on a bed in a windowless room that just looked like any other room but you were shackled to the bed. “I see you are awake,” Zhongli said with a smile as he entered the room. “Is this a prank?” You asked, a bit shaken. “Of course not my love,” he sat on the edge of the bed looking at you with clear obsession in his eyes. “Why are you doing this?” “It’s because…!” He yelled suddenly causing you to flinch. “You were about to go to someone else,” he grabbed your wrist, “and I won’t let you. You’re mine.” “L-let’s talk about this!” His face darkened, “the time for talking is over. You had your chance.”

[blakenation1]

Dead Poets Society @ MOVIE NIGHT!!!

Inspired by @random-lil-illing 🙏🏻 I love writing HCs for DPS, nto sure if anyone has ever done this before for movie night but! oh well!

Okay first, I like to think that modern?! Knox- his family expecting him to become a lawyer like his father- once saw Legally Blonde, and fell in love with it. He is trying to convince the other poets to watch it one night. He would love Legally Blonde.

TODD LOVES HORROR I'VE SEEN OTHER PEOPLE TALK ABOUT THIS ON HERE- I CAN'T REMEMBER WHO BUT YES!!!!

Cameron loves dramas- I can see him being like "oh- 90s sitcoms are silly and I don't wanna waste my time watching that-" and then he ends up becoming super invested.

I also think Cameron would like reality television, again, becoming very invested

ANYWAY

It was Neil's idea to have a movie night, perhaps Neil's and Cameron's idea. They both organized it! Yippee!

Okay so- how did they manage to fit seven people, fifty blankets, and thirty pillows on one couch? I'll never know.

carpe couch ig

They end up watching a movie that just came out on DVD/streaming services or whatever.

Meeks insists that they could watch any movie, he could pirate it and all that, I've seen people talk about this too, which is so true.

However, they're using Todd's fancy fancy laptop for streaming onto the TV or projector, and Todd refuses to do that- boy wants NO viruses on his laptop!!

Pitts brings all the snacks!! or makes all of them.... he is snack man

thank you pittsie!!!

Would kill to have a movie night with them

Sometimes, if they know ahead of time what movie they're going to watch, Pitts will make treats themed to the movie!

Oh, they're watching Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin for Halloween? Pitts makes Snoopy cookies. thank you pittsie!!!

If they watch a sad movie, all of these goobers are crying by the end. Especially Knox. Knox is a mess, bless his heart.

Charlie is a couch hog, blanket hog, you name it.

I like to think they'd have monthly movie nights, and they take turns picking the movie

By the end of the movie, someone is snoring.....

that someone is either Charlie or Pitts

Charlie got distracted, Pitts on the other hand got happy with the Snoopy cookies and is now in a food coma. Can't blame the guy though, I'd be snoozin if I had a few Snoopy cookies and a tall glass of milk.

[yellowhollyhock]

Tmnt Memory mash up part 2 (finally ran out of jokes for the first one)

Concept is, there is no concept we have no idea what’s real because memories are wonky, everyone is a storyteller, and Casey is gaslighting them all. (Actual concept: characters remember the same events differently because that’s how brains work, but now it’s taken to an extreme where the basis for different turtle realities comes from each set of memories.)

Rise Raph, 2012 Mikey, 2003 Donnie, 2007 Leo, 1987 Splinter, 1990s April

Leo: You guys need to focus. It’s just like I learned during my training—

Raph: Your training? Are you talking about when you became a mascot for that basketball team?

Donnie: Raphie, be nice. You know Leo takes ninjitsu very seriously.

Raph: *cackles*

Mikey: pfft yeah haha, he’s a big goofy dork who loves cartoons, trying to act all serious haha (he tried to sacrifice himself again last week why are we laughing)

Mikey: Yo dudes, I made us some pizza, shaken not stirred, canned meat supreme with jalapeños and strawberries, light on rosemary heavy on hot sauce. We’re ready for movie night!

Raph: You’re so creative with food! ❤️ You were watching that cooking show you like again, weren’t you?

April:

Leo:

Donnie:

Splinter: You are a great chef, Michelangelo. Because of my peculiar tastes I will be eating sushi.

Casey: There’s definitely algae on this pizza.

Leo: Casey shut up we’re eating

Donnie, on the last slide of a PowerPoint: And so, Leo, I think you will plainly understand, you cannot go outside.

Leo: What about Raph and Mikey?

Donnie: Did Mikey almost accidentally ally with our family’s nemesis?

Leo: No, but—

Donnie: Did Raph get poisoned at the Battle Nexus?

Leo: Well, no, but—

Donnie: Did Raph or Mikey or Splinter or April or even Casey fight an army of Foot by himself while still recovering emotionally from our first presumed defeat of said nemesis, and end up facing him again, getting thrown through a window, and falling into a coma?

Leo: But you said you were abducted by aliens! And what about all those adventures in alternate dimensions you talk about? Your safety is also important! (fuming)

Donnie: Well I’m not the one who had to go away for training. 😘

Leo: But you did take that horrible phone line job while I was away for training, and do not tell me that was less traumatic!

Donnie: … phone line job???

Leo: Yeah, the—didn’t you—Casey told me you worked in tech support?

Donnie: Casey told you—Casey said—I am the cofounder of O’Neil Technologies he told you I got a phone line job?

Splinter: You must center yourselves, my students. The mind is a powerful weapon.

April: So does he always just call you guys his students?

Donnie: Nah, I think he says ‘my son’ more often than he says my name, he’s just in training mode right now.

Leo: Yeah, it’s more in private conversations that he’ll use familial terms. He really means it with just as much affection when he says students.

Mikey: lol I have been called both son and student with varying degrees of affection and annoyance. When he says my name I run for my life

Raph:

April: Um, you okay Raph?

Raph: He mostly just calls me Red…

Everyone: Dude….

April: Hey do you guys remember that guy who got mixed up with a bad crowd, almost did something really irreversible but then met you guys and turned it around and helped us instead?

Donnie: Angel!

Splinter: Ah, yes, young Carter. I hope his studies are going well.

Mikey: Mondo Gecko my man!

Leo: Do you mean your boss Winters? I mean he was the most recent.

Raph: That was Casey.

Casey: That was me.

April:

April: Anyway I was talking with his dad the other day—

Mikey: You ever had feelings for someone, Leo? Feelings you didn’t know what to do about? Feelings that kept you up at night?

Leo: Mikey I told you, I didn’t stay away that extra time because of a girlfriend.

Mikey: Maybe even feelings that make you act stupid. Feelings like Raph has for his Mona Lisa, or Donnie for April?

Raph and Donnie, eavesdropping:

Raph: What’s going on with you and April??

Donnie: Nothing I’m aware of. Maybe she borrowed a tool without asking or something. Who’s your Mona Lisa?

Raph: Raph wishes he knew.

Mikey: The heart’s a soft muscle, dude. Squish squish.

Leo: I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.

Casey: Hey Mikey! How are things going with that time traveling girl you liked? I can’t remember her name.

Mikey: Time-traveling girl..? Wait yo dude that hasn’t happened for me yet. I think you just accidentally revealed my future!

Casey: Cool, I didn’t even know I was from the future. I wonder if I could convince Leo he might start an apocalypse if he doesn’t find, like a certain artifact or something….

Donnie, again on PowerPoint: If I were to disappear, the whole world would fall to pieces. Shredder victorious. Raph and Leo estranged forever, unable to reconcile after Master Splinter’s tragic death. Mikey and April, the lone fighters against the growing tide of darkness, barely clinging onto hope. Mikey’s lost one of his arms, and with it the spark of joy in his eyes.

Raph: Who let him have coffee

Splinter: I believe he has had a nightmare. We must guard against these dark thoughts.

Donnie, staring into the distance: That dragon-daimyo merged guy nearly won the Battle Nexus. It looked like the blue bunny poisoned Leo, but in the end he stood beside him in battle. At least Raphie won his planet race.

Raph: Who let him have poison pizza puffs

Mikey: Ay Raph that’s scarily specific?

Mikey: They always forget that I’m good at science, too. I help Dee out in the lab with ideas and stuff. I mean, I don’t understand science, but I got good instincts for it. They need to remember that.

Casey: Yeah, like when you created Ice Cream Kitty.

Mikey: Yeah! What.

Casey: Or when you cured Donnie of that stuff that made him super dumb.

Mikey: No yeah but go back to what you said about Ice Cream Kitty.

Donnie: Do you guys remember that jungle dimension we went to with the really big bugs?

Mikey: Did you just call our own city a jungle dimension?

Leo: Reminds me of my training. I miss the jungle….

Mikey, humming to himself: welcome to the jungle, it’s worse here every day, you learn to live like an animal in the jungle where we play

Raph: Did you guys all portal somewhere without me?

Mikey and Donnie: You wanted to see the giant bugs?

Raph:

Raph: Well, no, but—

[whentherewerebicycles]

well Pip’s tooth cracked while we were playing tug-of-war last night and half of it fell out—it’s not like the bottom chipped off it’s like it cracked vertically and half of it is just gone?? the other half is presumably still in there but he won’t let me look at it? he bled all over his rope toy but seemed totally unfazed and was mostly annoyed that tug had to end. they can’t get him in until thursday and I’m sure it’s going to be like $1k+ to extract it so there goes any hope of putting money away for the next few months 🫠 I literally JUST got done paying off the clinic bills and still have $1200 left in hospital debt 🫠🫠🫠 so the financial stuff is stressful but also I cried a bit because idk any time he has to go to the vet I’m forced to confront the fact that he’s seven now he’s getting older and it’s VITAL that he live forever with zero health issues OKAY 😭😭

then I woke up today to discover the old sealed-off fireplace has become uhh less sealed and is leaking a lot of water into the house. it missed dripping on my airpods case all night by about two inches but it did ruin a book and drench a box of ukrainian chocolates my work bff gave me 😩 anyway blahhh not a great 24 hours and also my hockey team sucked last night. plus I might have to stay home from work today to meet the repair guy which would normally be no big deal but is pretty inconvenient today as we have an external consultant coming to lead a strategic planning session + I’m supposed to get lunch in town with my work bff + I’m supposed to do a tour and a volunteer shift at this food bank way over on the other side of town. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa gah ok it’s fine I’m going to aggressively snuggle Pip and cry some more. I also had weird dreams all night including one where I woke up from a coma with amnesia and discovered that before the coma I’d apparently quit my current dream job to take a high-paying finance job and I couldn’t get my old job back and I wept and wept because now I was trapped forever in finance hell. so I guess that was my subconscious telling me I’d rather be stressed about money than working a job I hate? sigh. agh I don’t feel great I wish I could skip ahead a bit and be living a different day!!!!

[arianatheangel-girl]

Agent Elvis Bloopers, Part 4

Author’s note: Sorry if this seems like a shorter installment; I had some writer’s block for the past few weeks. Anyway, I really hope you like this!

Tagging: @loving-elvis @heartbrake-hotel @star-shard @prompted-wordsmith​

****

SCENE: The abandoned motel. Elvis and Cece are attempting to get some kind of connection to the outside world. Elvis is fiddling around with a radio which starts playing one of his songs, before Cece takes it to try and play something else.

C: Look, your music’s just not my thing, okay?

E: That’s literally not possible.

Cece turns the radio to a different station; it’s supposed to play the Doors song “Hello, I Love You” but it instead starts playing Elvis’s “Devil in Disguise”. Elvis starts to snicker since he knows this isn’t part of the script.

C: Huh? Wait, that’s not right. Did I maybe hit the wrong station?

She attempts to turn the radio to a different station three different times, but each station is playing one of Elvis’s songs; “Hound Dog”, “Heartbreak Hotel”, and “Blue Suede Shoes” respectively. By now, Elvis is in a full-on laughing fit along with several of the crew members as Cece looks hopelessly confused and unamused at the same time.

Director: CUT! Okay, who messed with the radio?

Scatter begins laughing maniacally from off-camera.

Director: Ugh, Scatter! Seriously? Quit messing around; we haven’t got all night here!

****

SCENE: The spy plane. Elvis and Bobby Ray have been “knocked out” by the enemy agents; Cece is attempting to wake them up.

C: Wakey wakey! Hey, guys? Hey, WAKE THE FUCK UP!

Bobby Ray “wakes up” right on cue, but Elvis remains fast asleep.

C: Uh, hey, buddy? I said WAKE UP!

She attempts to kick him to wake him up, as her arms are bound, but Elvis simply lets out a loud snore and curls up on the ground in the fetal position, mumbling about “gigantic donuts”, and obviously fast asleep.

BR: Um, I don’t think you’re gonna have too much luck there, ma’am. That guy can sleep through anything. Seriously, one time he slept through a fire drill at the hotel; saw it with my own eyes. 

I think he must’ve had a big lunch, because he always gets super drowsy after eating too much. I knew I shouldn’t have left him at that fried chicken buffet.

C (rolling her eyes): Ugh. Well, that’s just great. So he’s dead to the world until he comes out of this food coma?

BR: ...Yeah, pretty much.

Director: Oh, for the love of...CUT! Somebody go pour some ice water on Elvis or something!

****

SCENE: The casino. Birdie has just found out Scatter ran up an over 300,000 dollar tab, and is confronting him and his lady friend.

B: Scatter, you damn fool! How drunk are you? Uh-uh, don’t you dare pass out on me! For all of your NASA training, you sure as hell ain’t a...wait, what the hell was my line again?!

Scatter starts to laugh along with her.

Director: Ugh, CUT! It’s “you sure as hell ain’t a rocket scientist”, Birdie! People, is it too much to ask that you read the script?!

Birdie just gives him a “seriously? You did not just say that” look.

Director (looking nervous): Uh, sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean you. No disrespect meant.

****

SCENE: The desert. Elvis is about to shoot the rattlesnake with the stun gun.

E: Fuck you, Vegas.

He aims the stun gun and shoots, but nothing happens. Confused, he tries again, looking nervous when he realizes the gun is jammed and trying to back away because it looks like the snake is about to bite him. 

Just then, the snake is revealed to be a robot as it starts swaying back and forth and “singing” in the voice of Michigan J. Frog from the cartoon “One Froggy Evening”.

Snake: 🎶 Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal! Send me a kiss by wire, baby my heart’s on fire! If you refuse me, honey you lose me, then you’ll be left alone! Oh baby, telephone, and tell me I’m your own! 🎶

Elvis just shakes his head and starts cracking up as the crew members are laughing hysterically behind the camera at the success of their prank.

E: Okay, seriously guys, what the fuck was that?! Don’t scare me like that again!

Director: Ugh. CUT!

[vexic929]

1, 3, 10, 11, 12, 13, 17, 20, 21 for Rodriga and H. Wells?

1. Who first brought up the option of marriage? Was it an easy topic?

H Wells brought it up first and possibly a bit too soon for most people, she was just so enamored she couldn't stop herself from mentioning it and she was deathly afraid Rodriga wouldn't be interested. Fortunately, Rodriga found it endearing, but they didn't get engaged until after 6 years together and didn't marry until after both of them had graduated with their PhDs.

3. Show us their engagement and/or wedding rings!

Rodriga opted for a diamond inlayed mobius strip and Harriett preferred the solid gold version, both rings have "Sterling-Wells" engraved on the inside

10. Do they get married through court? Church? Third secret option?

Neither of them were particularly religious but they married at a temple anyway at the behest of Rodriga's family.

11. When do they get married? Night or day? Any specific reason for either?

They married at night so they could spend their entire reception under the stars.

12. Do either of them play music while walking down the aisle (if they do at all)? If yes, show us their song.

13. Show us their outfits!

H Wells:

Rodriga:

17. Show us their vows. Did either of them tear up at them?

H Wells: “Rodriga, in the nine years that we have been together, you have taught me so much about living and loving. You show a remarkable capacity to bring out the best in me and to ground me with your patient understanding. I promise to never stop being curious and finding joy in the everyday miracles of life with you, my partner and my friend. I will continue always striving for greatness - both individually and as a team - while respecting your unique gifts that expand my perspective. With every day that passes, I will love you even more than the last.”

Rodriga: “Harriett, you never cease to amaze me. Your brilliance astounds me and your passion drives me to greatness. I fell in love with a brilliant, sarcastic woman who can be fiercely independent and deeply caring in the same breath. In the nine years we've been together, I have grown immensely by learning from your self-assurance, confidence, and ambition. I love you for all that you are and everything you strive to be. I vow to honor your intelligence with patience always and show my admiration of you at every turn. With our journeys intertwined, I pledge to never lose sight of how incredibly special we are together.”

they both cried lol

20. Did anyone pass out from a food/alcohol coma?

fortunately, no, but they both got a little too drunk and didn't even make it to their bedroom that night

21. Do they have a honeymoon? Where to? How soon after?

They were both such work-a-holics at the time that their families collectively bought them a surprise tropical honeymoon and forced them to go on it (they did end up enjoying themselves tho lol)

[dj-yukio]

Pokémon Scarlet and Violet hurt me in ways I didn’t expect so now I have too many ideas for an au

Spoilers ahead:

Honestly had only one bug in the entire game (an unclaimable pokeball item in the lake of false dragon titan), so my gameplay was great and I loved the story, looks like Pokémon is now leaning hard on the friendship zones more than having to catch them all or become champion or what not

I really like Area Zero’s soundtrack, gives me those mystical vibes like something powerful lurks here beyond one’s comprehension. Also love that we have our friends with us, more to share the trauma!

Poor Arven with his parent, but like I think the AI managed to traumatise everyone individually, because there’s nothing worse than realising you can’t do anything even with our preparations (nemona can’t battle, which is pretty damn bad when your opponent is known to have killed and possibly will kill again, and penny can’t hack us out of the situation)

Our poor protag too, can you imagine going like “ah we’re gonna help this famous professor, wanna come” and then thirty minutes later going “I have just killed all of us, we’re gonna be like the professor, no one will know we died and our bodies are gonna rot here forever or be pokemon food” like holy shit the AI battles were nightmare fuel like professor chucking master balls with barely contained Pokémon within from a height and then our poke balls being locked too

The whole game gives me Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz vibes for some reason, like we’re Dorothy, and all of our friends are a mix of the scarecrow, tin man, and lion (penny is def lion, but I can’t quite agree on nemona and arven being which one), and the whole time we go through a journey to find a treasure and head to Area Zero (the land of Oz), only to find that the wizard isn’t real

But anyways bad AU idea time, hear me out

Look we know that there were a bunch ofscientists before Sada/Turn took over the whole thing alone (and with themself as an AI) studying terastalizing including clavell and others

And we also know that the crystal is what powers the AI and why they cannot leave etc.

So all I’m saying is that the likelihood that the other initial researchers weren’t almost as brilliant as Sada/Turo is low

Which brings me to the concept of our protagonist being sort of an AI

I already said this was a shit idea don’t hate me

Okay but like let’s just say that our protagonist (who is 12-16, look nemona and arven are def older and in that range, plus no ten year old masterminds an operation to stop bullying), so it’s still possible that we can have the protag’s dad working with the professor

And now our protag has a serious illness (say cancer in the brain touch wood) that is in its late stages, so by the time the dad is no longer working with the professor he’s trying to look for another solution to save his child

to the point of obsession

biomedicine has failed him, and so he turns to a little souvenir that he brought along with him from the paldea

and actually creates a solution

it’s not a hundred percent perfect (unlike a certain AI-powered robot), but he manages to craft a mechanical brain powered with the crystals that can analyse situations and respond accordingly

And one night he takes the kid and does the transplant (he’s working at a pharmaceutical facility or hospital, either one)

Our protag lives! Sort of

See the thing is these sorts of projects cost money, money he doesn’t have

So he embezzles funds from his company to fund this project, and on this night the police are staking him out

And when they come out to catch him, it looks worse for him than it ever is

His child is in a coma, there’s blood everywhere, and the dude is covered in blood

He gets sent to jail, the real truth of what they saw is covered up (ie only the embezzlement is covered), and the mom looks after the protag who is in a coma

So at the start of the game this is why there’s no mention of the dad at all, partially because of the crime, partially because the protag’s mom knows that whatever he did might have potentially saved the protag’s life, so it’s a very touchy subject

But before that, when our protag wakes up, they don’t know that they’re an AI, instead it’s just feeling empty and numb. This is coupled with a great overprotectiveness from their mom. But word spread about the very ill child suddenly making a recovery after the dad’s arrest, and eventually the mom takes the flight back to Paldea just to shield the protag from the rumors

Which is when the game starts, when the mom finally is willing to let the protag explore their surroundings a bit

But as the story progresses, the protag learns about being human, learning to feel again, and friendship :D

Also this is a bit random but due to the AI, the protag doesn’t have the ability to terastalize. This is partially because I hardly did during my gameplay, and also because I feel like terastalizing is a bit similar to mega evolution, so for an individual to terastalize a pokémon they need to be in sync with their pokémon, same with wild pokémon terastalizations, either they cannot control it or they’ve just become very in sync with themselves. Instead, the protagonist gets a really bad headache when they try (the crystals syncing with their skull is not fun)

As for what happens to Area Zero, I have plans

[ikura-wa-ikura]

I write this last post from my couch in Portland. Today was our last day in Tokyo and this day lasted over 30 hours.

But first- our last night! We got back into Tokyo and headed to our hotel- the Godzilla hotel! There’s a giant Godzilla head on the 8th floor of the building and tons of themed merch all over. Very silly. We dropped our stuff, took a little breather and then headed out for a drink. We first went to a dive bar but they didn’t have any food options, so after a drink we went to an izakaya to snack. In Japan when you order an alcoholic beverage, they bring you a little snack. The snack isn’t free necessarily bc you often pay a “cover charge” when you drink at places (usually $2-3) and that covers the snack. Well this guy brought out a charcoal grill and a bunch of tiny fish right to our table and is like, grill up! So we did. And they were delicious! But the whole thing was so unexpected and silly. After a few bites we headed over to the Deaf owned izakaya. Inside we met the owner who is Deaf, another Deaf staff person, a HoH guy with his hearing sister who signs and a SODA. It was too fun communicating with everyone. We had learned a few signs in JSL to communicate, and with the help of Google translate and Fusao the owner (he knows a bit of ASL) we were able to learn more. It was a really fun experience and the food was delicious. Anytime I meet Deaf folks from other countries, it’s always way easier to figure out commutation than it is with hearing people. Love that!

Finally we headed to our last dinner, a sushi omakase in a different part of town. The dinner was fantastic and the chef and staff were so so friendly and kind. We planned to go out after but ate ourselves into a coma and called it a night.

This morning we packed up and left our bags at the lobby. Our flight wasn’t til 4p so we had time to explore. We checked out a neighborhood we hadn’t been to yet, popping into art galleries and vintage shops. We stopped by a bakery for a little treat and then accidentally went to a very traditional izakaya for lunch. We had meant to go somewhere else but got the place wrong and stayed anyway. We split a lunch special of grilled fish, sashimi, miso and rice and it was great! I wanted one last ramen before we left so that was lunch #2! It was incredible. The ramens here really are next level. Then we headed back, grabbed our bags and went to the airport. Our 9 hour flight went by quickly and we landed at Seattle at 9:45am. AM! Still today! We went back in time. So wild! Global entry was a breeze, we grabbed our rental and psyched ourselves out for the long drive home.

Now we’re back with loads of souvenirs and I’m eating Indian food surrounded by the animals and I’m tired but not tired and feel like a ghost. Travel is weird. Time travel is even more weird.

This was such an incredible trip. Everyday was so packed of fun and adventure and silly and delicious! I am immensely grateful to Thomas for planning such a great vacation and showing me the beauties of Japan. I can’t wait to go back and explore more!

Ichi-go ichi-e 🤟

[twobillionseconds]

June 23rd - June 26th 2023

June 23rd:

Work from home Friday. Can’t remember much. It was a rough day of getting started on work stuff that’s what I remember. I took the dog for multiple walks. Went to the gym. Cooked some soup. Stayed home.

June 24th:

I wanted to sleep in. So I did. Took the dog for a walk. I took care of bunch of errands around the house. Made cottage pie for lunch so that I had food for the next couple days I can easily heat up. I got a haircut. I went to a social event and had a great time. Came home late and made some drinks. 

June 25th:

Woke up late. But expected. Took the dog for a walk. After lunch I was so tired or the food coma I just fell asleep. I didn’t really do much today. I got ready for another social and headed out. It was ok. Not as good as the night before. I ran into an old coworker. We caught up and exchanged contact. I came home early because workday tomorrow.

June 26th:

Woke up reasonably on time. Did the morning routine. I had an ok day of work from home. I took the dog on a couple walks and took him to a park at the end of the day. Went to the gym. Picked up In-n-Out for dinner. For some reason I got the wind to learn some songs. I’ve done something I haven’t done in a long time: write my own song. It’s not complete but here is a verse from it:

tossing, turning, in my own sea of tears there's no seeming end to this uncertainty i feel like i'm sailing without a map but even when i look up to the stars they are hidden by the cloak of the clouds

Ehh corny maybe but I just felt the words come out. It encapsulates how I feel. Anyway I played some guitar. I gotta head to bed. 

[joshuasearing]

Thursday 20th April 2023

Hey journal so yesterday was good I started the day of by firstly getting up and getting ready for the day then my mum dropped me off to the gym when at the gym I did a push session and it was good. After I finished in the gym I ended up being stuck on the toilet for about 10 minutes straight. Anyways after this me and caitlin met each other outisde the gym once she got there. I quickly went into the cafe and got myself this brownie flavoured chocolate shake. Then after this me and Caitlin went to a couple shops to get some things. As Caitlin needed to get some things. Also in one of the shops both of us got a energy drink called p***y so not a great word but we made a lot of jokes about the drink. Now it just sits at the top of my shelf. Then also in one of the shops I bought myself the original flavour of the tyson fury energy drink as I am collecting them and I have all of them now I think. Then after this me and her walked to my house as she was sleeping round mine. When walking we had an in depth private conversation and sort of explained both are sides of the situation and sorted everything out. Then after about 25 minutes of walking we got to mine. Once we got to my house we relaxed in my bed for the next few hours and watched films, youtube and also just relaxed with each other. At one point we started to watch black widow as I have never really watched marvel and I want to see whether I like it or not. Anyways I ended up loving the film. Anyways whilst we were watching this Caitlin ordered us a takeaway papa johns which was really a nice, and was a nice thing for her to do. We ended up ordering a meat feast pizza, bbq chicken wings and also this massive warm chocolate cookie cut up in 8 individual services. By the end of the food I was in a food coma to say the least I could barely move and It made me feel really bloated and tired. However it was really nice. Also at the end of the night me and Caitlin watched the simpsons which was actually really good, I love the simpsons. Midway through watching one of the episodes me and Caitlin fell asleep.

Today has been ok we started the day of by relaxing, then shortly after we got ready to get the bus as me and Caitlin needed to go places. She needed to go college and I needed to go to the gym. Anyways we ended up getting to the bus stop as soon as the bus arrived it was perfect timing. Then shortly after I got of the bus and said bye to her quickly on the bus. At the gym I did a pull session and it went well like usual. After the gym I went to Icelands warehouse and bought myself these tyson fury caffeine energy gum things. I also bought myself a protein shake strawberry I got it instead here as I realised they sell protein shakes cheaper in icelands warehouse compare to the cafe. Anyways after this I walked home. One I got home I made my documenting my mental health video on tiktok, Wrote in my book journal and also done my spanish on duolingo. I am now on a 52 day streak on duolingo I think when it comes to learning spanish. Anways after all this I went out with my mum and we went to the yard for my dads business. I helped open the container for my mum as she needed to get paperwork out. Anyways at first we forgot the code then after a while we figured it out by looking back through messages on my mum phone from the past. After this we drove back home and on are road near are house their was this pigeon and my mum very nearly run it over as it did not fly out of the road although it had loads of time to see us coming. It left it right until last minute to fly away. Anyways I will speak to you later journal. Bye journal!

[ofdarknesseyes]

The first thing Toji had done when he woke from his coma after the near death experience he had was to check on his son and make sure Satoru Gojo took him in and that the Zen'in clan didn't get their hands on him.

After that he disappeared. Was it the right thing to do? Probably not but nothing he did was ever really right. Even if he told himself it didn't matter. His kid was better off without him anyways. If anything he was doing the kid a favor. Better to disappear now while he's still young and won't remember him. Plus he knew he judged Satoru correctly because he did in fact go and fetch Megumi with what seemed little hesitation. Whatever it wasn't his problem anymore. He could focus on doing the shit he did best now...

It took months for him to recover. He kept a low profile even more than usual. But Toji could never stay away from his addictions for long. After all he had to numb himself somehow. Aside from eating good food, his favorite thing might be gambling. The sex that it involved sometimes was not bad either. Though mostly the thrill of winning but is what does it for him. Unfortunately his luck is awful and he doesn't win very often.

After another night of shit luck and not having anymore women to hustle into giving him more money, Toji steps out of the casino, hands in his pocket as he is about to cross the street. A voice stopping him in his tracks.

He tilts his head slightly as he gives the young man a once over. Good looking, he thinks as he waits to see what they have to say.

"Great power you say? And who are you?"

He grins and steps closer to him. Still trying to figure out why they seemed a little familiar. Someone with another job for him? Perhaps this could be good. It could mean some good money.

As he steps closer and gets a better look he instantly recognized who it was. That kid from Jujutsu High? The one that was friends with Satoru Gojo? He's never really seen another person with such a pretty face before so of course he'd remember eventually. Well shit! He almost laughs out loud. This kid was nothing like the one he saw last time. Confident and sure of himself and nothing like the kid he ran into that looked as if he was going to break down at any moment. Interesting... Toji doesn't make it obvious that he's recognized him, not yet. He simply tilts his head slightly giving him a lazy grin.

"How can I help you?"

Just what sort of thing was this kid involved with now that he's come to seek him out? Nothing good, then again anything is probably better than a life as a sorcerer for someone like him...

Should it really come as a surprise the hate that he sees festering in the teenager's expression? The pure rage, hurt, and confusion even? For some reason deep down it strikes a cord with Toji. He knew deep down better than anyone what it was like not to fit in. To feel like everyone around you and in your life looked down on you. Is disgusted by your mere existence. Though he truly doubts Suguru's life is any worse than what he went through then again who was he to judge that? To Suguru he clearly was living through hell.

Toji laughs again but it's bitter almost as if he feels sorry for the kid.

"They really fucked you up didn't they? Why should it matter what your curse technique is so long as you have one? A powerful one too. You could do almost anything with that power. Yet you're content just walking in Satoru Gojo's shadow and letting them all treat you like shit?"

Toji tilts his head slightly.

"Want to know why I didn't kill you? Because you're too powerful. All those curses inside of you would be free and who else in this world could stop them all at once? Aside from you who could control them? Maybe Satoru Gojo? Certainly not me."

He smirks as he closes the gap between them taking a few more steps towards him.

"I'm simply just a man. Just a monkey. I was just doing a job I got paid for, no hard feelings kid."

He has the audacity to pat Suguru's shoulder as if that would make all his grievances with him go away.

"Word of advice..."

Toji finally picks up the worm and lets it wrap around his body. It still seemed upset and shaken up.

"If I were you, I'd leave the sorcer society while you can. You'll only end up dead." He meant physically or mentally whichever one came first.

Toji starts to walk away. For once he wasn't in the mood for a fight. Plus he had yet to fully recovered and he didn't need the kid figuring that out. Better to be afraid of him and want nothing to do with him instead.

[theriverbeyond]

very funny moment. me, never cooked fish before, frantically googling 'how to tell if salmon is cooked' bc we are prepping like 15 dishes at once across 2 kitchens and everyone else is busy so somehow i (vegetarian) was assigned the task of salmon. anyway the reviews r in aparently i did a great job (i wouldnt know).

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x​ @kai-kai-bookshelf​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @hsinmyheart​ @moonchild1​ @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie​ @fangirls94​ @jinsalpaca​ @ggukkieland​

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

----------------------------------------

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[ceruleanchillin]

5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)