#guess who’s watching the devil wears prada

[seasonofthewitch06]

Florals? For spring?

Groundbreaking.

[mechaknight-98]

Outrage (NSFW) FT Nayoung (Lightsum)

Author’s Notes: this piece came about in a kind of silly way. It arose as a challenge from another writer I know. He’s seen my stuff and finds it really interesting, but there’s some repetitiveness to the content so as a challenge he said write a mature story without smut, and loads of cursing. So this came about. Now granted it still probably has some bad habits of mine but it is thematically different and heavier emotionally. Note you have been warned

The young man walked up to the sound stage for the talk show he would be performing at. It was the last of many mini promotions he’d been asked to do since his side project “Kraken” took off. He was tired but excited. He hoped that this would lead to his main project “The Flying Dutchman” finally getting the traction it deserves. He flashed his ID to the guard when the guard gave him a funny look the young man replied.

“It should be under Kraken,” the guard smiled and let him in while saying, “You know that song goes hard. I love all of the little wordplays you do, and your voice modulation how did you make some of those sounds?”

The young man smiled “Oh studio magic I guess”

“Well, Mr Jones or should I say Kraken have a good time on the Late Show.” The guard said

Mr. Jones smiled and said, “I’ll try” After getting through the guard Mr jones bumped into his label representative Michael Hale. Well, bumped is the incorrect word. Mr Jones stood confused for a large portion of time as he tried to see where to go for the interview. The hustle and bustle of the stage made it hard to know where to go.

“Ah, Davy or I guess I should call you Kraken good to see you made it. Oh and don’t you look sharp” He said

Davy Jones nodded and said, “Last show, I had to show off for my hometown”

“Well great because you’re on first thing. It’s a simple song “Buy it Back”. Answer a few questions then you’re home free. Mike said

Kraken nodded and walked into his marked place.

“after performing his viral hit Kraken walked over to the talk show host for an interview”

“So that "buy it back" huh? It’s a great song with the cool edge to it that makes it feel like getting into a cold beach on a hot day.” Kraken chuckled as he nodded.

“I guess that’s true, but yeah I wrote it a few weeks ago, and no one I reached out to performed it correctly so I just recorded it and did it,” Kraken said nonchalantly. The host nodded attentive but also a little manic. Kraken was uncomfortable with the host's jerky and spastic motions but kept to himself enough so it wasn’t a major issue. He meandered through the interview with an assertive calm that the interviewer felt.

“Next question, why Kraken it’s such a weird name?”

“It’s a Pirates of the Caribbean joke. In it, Davy Jones has two things he leads. The Kraken and the Flying Dutchman. The Flying Dutchman is a team-led thing and my main band is called The Flying Dutchman so when I wanted to do something solo I came up with “Kraken” because Davy Jones controls that alone, and for this side project it’s just me.” Kraken explained

“Okay next question: not since Dazzler’s last mega-hit Sparkle Sparkle has a mutant artist been in the top 100 charts you are also the first openly mutant male artist to make it in. How does that feel?”

Kraken thought about his answer as he looked into the crowd he thought about all the people watching at home and how I used to be like them.

“When I was about 15 or so a lot of bands I loved were hitting their stride; The Devil Wears Prada, Miss May I, Silent Planet, and Like Moths to Flame just to name a few. Their music helped me get through some of the rougher times growing up. Now that I’m older I feel responsible for being that for the next generation so in all my music endeavors like this one or The Flying Dutchman, I try to keep my music accessible and impactful. Me being a mutant is just who I am and hopefully not what makes me special” The interviewer nodded at Kraken’s question with an insincere smile and laughter.

“That’s such a great answer. Now how has being a mutant affected you? I have heard some of the songs of Flying Dutchman a lot of them seem to have a very hostile edge to them.”

Kraken considers his words carefully before saying, “I write from a place of contemplation a lot of the time and when you have a marginalized existence it’s hard kinda not to sound angry at times. Like when I was writing Spirit Ripper both of my sisters had just been attacked by members of the LGBTQ community for confronting them over their bad behavior. The members cited that my sisters were perpetuating harmful language and that it was self-defense to break my younger sister's arm who by the way is a very well-known political activist who supports LGBTQ rights and equality and for my oldest sister a white Lesbain woman threw a brick at her head even though my sister is a lesbian herself.”

The interviewer paused hearing that as he reconciled that he figured he’d lighten the tone by asking,

“So you’ve had it the easiest then.”

Kraken chuckled as he said, “Nope! I had to transfer colleges because I was falsely accused of sexual assault by my first college crush, which led to me developing an intense fear of intimacy with anyone but also led to this massive investigation that revealed that the girl’s boyfriend was abusing her and that this was the only way she could express some control over her life.”

Kraken looked at the room as the silence and shock was palpable. Realizing that this was getting dark fast the interviewer changed subjects.

“Okay, so last question who is Nayoung? You mention her three times and wrap up some of the song’s best punchlines using her name?”

Not expecting that last question but one about his mutant heritage and why was the song called Buy It Back so it took him a second to process the question.

“Oh um, Nayoung is a K-pop singer I find cute. She is in a group called Lights. Her name is easy to couch alliteration and rhyming couplets on so I did that a couple of times.

The interviewer smiled falsely now having control of the interview again and said,

“Well, we will have to check them out. While we happily await your next song see you later Kraken.” Kraken smiled got up and waved. When the cameras stopped rolling the interviewer’s face dropped from a smile into a frown.

“I hoped you enjoyed your 15 minutes of fame Mutie.”

Kraken smiled and said, “Of course, I try to never take anything for granted.”

As the interview across the world, Nayoung sat cross-legged on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in her lap, eyes glued to the television. Her group members were scattered around the living room, some scrolling through their phones, others half-watching the interview playing out on the screen.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy from The Flying Dutchman?” Chowon asked, looking up.

“Yeah, Davy Jones! I love his music,” Nayoung replied, her voice tinged with enthusiasm. She had been following his work ever since she first heard his powerful lyrics and unique sound. His music had helped her through some challenging times, and she admired his courage in being unapologetically himself.

As the interview progressed, Nayoung listened intently, nodding along to Kraken’s thoughtful responses. Then, the interviewer asked about the name that popped up in his songs: Nayoung. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, nearly spilling her popcorn.

“Oh my gosh, did he just say my name?” she exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. The other members turned their attention to the screen, now curious.

Kraken’s explanation was casual yet sincere, and Nayoung felt a rush of warmth spread through her. “He thinks I’m cute!” she said, unable to hide her grin. “And he uses my name for rhymes. How cool is that?”

Her group members laughed and teased her, but Nayoung was too thrilled to care. To hear her name coming from someone she admired so much was a surreal experience.

As the interview wrapped up, she clapped her hands together. “I can’t believe it. I’ve got to send him a message or something. Maybe we can work together one day!”

The idea filled her with inspiration, and as she daydreamed about potential collaborations, her excitement was infectious, spreading to the rest of the room.

When she went to Cube the next day she was the talk of trainees, other groups, and management.

During practice one of the producers came in and asked for her. Her members teased her as she walked out. The producer and Nayoung paid them no mind.

“I take it you saw Kraken’s interview?” The producer asked. Nayoung’s pupils dilated to the eyes of saucers.

“You convinced Davy Jones to do a collab with us?” Nayoung asked her sparkling with joy.

“Um no but the higher-ups and I were wondering if you can convince him to work with us?”

Nayoung smiled and then realized that it probably meant he wouldn’t be Davy Jones but Kraken. She nodded and said, “I’ll help where I can.”

Davy Jones and the rest of “The Flying Dutchman” were working on their parts for the next album. AJ was focused on getting down some of the more intricate baselines that made this song Their most technically impressive one yet. Jojo was on drums trying different beats and fills to better match the rest of the song, while Douglas and Noah fought about everything as always. Davy Jones or as his friends called him JD was writing. As he always was. After about 15 minutes of tuning arguing and preparing JD got up from his notebook and they started working on new stuff.

“The Sky Breaks free while you Break me,” AJ (the clean vocalist) sang out as the kept working on the chorus. Despite AJ’s technical skills as a vocalist JD often found himself not liking the way he sounded on this specific Chorus. He felt that powerful wasn't what the song needed but a softer touch...maybe a feature, but who would he get? Their group was fledgling at best and he doubted he could call in any favors with his Kraken side project yet. The rest of the song sounded right but something was missing. He just didn’t know. As they finished up JD was reminded that the label would be expecting the album soon which he was aware of he just didn’t like it because he couldn’t nail the chorus.

After the recording session, Davy Jones drove home. His parents were watching his interview and congratulated him on the song again. He smiled and then went to his room where he checked his email on a miraculous whim.

He saw an email from Cube Entertainment with the subject Collaborating opportunity and his eyes went big. He read the email saying how Lightsum was willing to work on a couple of songs together. He did notice they used Kraken and not Davy which meant they expected Kraken but hey this gave him an opportunity, so he took it.

A few days later Davy Jones was on a video call with Lightsum who were all smiles to see him. He discussed what the collaboration would look like and how promotions for it would work. Davy Jones had two stipulations they also helped him with a song or two while he was out in South Korea recording, and for this collaboration, the girls get the brunt of the money made and writing credits. Cube was hesitant at first but when DJ said he would do their song for free they quickly agreed. Now the hard part getting an extension from his label. Davy Jones took out his phone and called his label representative.

“Hey Mike it’s Davy Jones. Is it possible to get a 9-day extension on the album?”

Mike was quiet for a moment. It wouldn’t delay anything as even now the boys were ahead of their schedule, but Mike was worried because when Douglas was the leader of the group and not Davy Jones they were constantly missing the mark on release dates. He decided to take a chance and ask why

“Well, I secured a feature for the last song. The only issue is I need to be in Korea to capitalize, after that’s finished I’ll send the last master to you.”

Mike was surprised that Davy Jones of all people was able to secure a feature but knew that this would be excellent for their sound at least for one song.

“Sure. I can manage a week.” Mike responded, and Davy Jones sighed relieved.

“You won’t regret this.” He said. Mike scowled and then said

“You haven’t flopped yet so I’m trusting you, Davy Jones, otherwise you’re sinking with the ship and no Kraken will save you.”

Davy Jones sighed and said, “Okay” he then thought about calling one of his bandmates to see if two of the group could go.

Davy Jones sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in hand, staring at the list of contacts. He scrolled through until he found the first name he was looking for: AJ, the bassist for The Flying Dutchman. Davy dialed the number, listening to the ringtone with anticipation.

“Hey, Davy! What’s up?” AJ answered, his voice cheerful.

“Hey, AJ! I’ve got some exciting news,” Davy said, trying to keep the enthusiasm in his voice. “I’m heading to South Korea to work with Lightsum, and I was wondering if you’d like to come along.”

There was a pause before AJ responded, his tone apologetic. “Man, I’d love to, but with Katie’s new job, it’s been hectic around here. She’d have to come with me, and I don’t think we can swing that right now.”

Davy nodded, even though AJ couldn’t see him. “I get it. No worries. We’ll catch up when I’m back.”

After ending the call, Davy dialed the next number on his list: Jojo, the drummer. He drummed his fingers on his knee as he waited for Jojo to pick up.

“Yo, JD!” Jojo greeted him, sounding as lively as ever.

“Hey, Jojo. I’ve got a proposal for you. How about joining me in Korea for a bit? It’ll be fun, and you know how much I’d love to have you there.”

Jojo laughed, but there was a hint of regret in his voice. “I wish I could, man. But with the twins starting school soon, Gina and I have our hands full. There’s no way I can leave right now.”

Davy sighed, understanding but still a bit disappointed. “Understandable. Family comes first.”

Next on the list was Douglas, the guitarist. Davy hoped at least one of his bandmates might be able to join him. He hit the call button and listened as it rang.

“Hey, Davy! What’s going on?” Douglas answered, his voice as laid-back as always.

“Hey, Douglas. So, I’m heading to Korea for some work with Lightsum. Thought I’d see if you wanted to tag along.”

Douglas hesitated, and Davy could almost hear him weighing his options. “Man, that sounds awesome. But I’ve got this big project at work, and I can’t get the time off. Plus, Melissa’s parents are visiting next week, and I promised we’d spend time with them.”

Davy chuckled, not surprised by the response. “No problem. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

After hanging up, Davy leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. It looked like he’d be heading to Korea solo. Though he wished his bandmates could join him, he understood their commitments and knew they’d be cheering him on from afar.

With a sigh, he put his phone down and mentally prepared himself for the journey ahead, determined to make the most of the experience on his own.

A week before Davy Jones's visit Nayoung had a secret meeting with her CEO.

Nayoung sat across from the CEO in his sleek, minimalist office, the city skyline sprawling out behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The atmosphere was formal yet tense, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting was more than just a routine update.

“Thank you for coming, Nayoung,” the CEO began, his tone cordial but businesslike. “As you know, Kraken, or Davy Jones, is coming to South Korea to work with Lightsum.”

“Yes, I heard. It’s exciting! I’m a big fan of his work,” Nayoung replied with a polite smile, trying to hide her nerves.

The CEO leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “I am aware and we want to make sure his experience here is exceptional. His collaboration with us could open many doors. That's where you come in.”

Nayoung blinked, taken aback. “Me? What do you mean?”

“We’d like you to make him feel welcome, maybe even charm him a bit,” the CEO said, his words carefully chosen. “We believe that a personal connection might encourage him to engage more with our company, and of course bolster our efforts with Lightsum.”

Nayoung's heart sank. She had anticipated discussing schedules and logistics, not personal involvement beyond the music. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you asking me to…?”

“Not to deceive him, of course,” the CEO interjected quickly, sensing her discomfort. “Just be yourself, but perhaps a bit more attentive. Show him the best of our culture, our hospitality.”

Nayoung shifted in her seat, processing the request. It felt like more than just being friendly. “I can be welcoming and professional, but I want to make sure it’s all about the music and collaboration. That’s what I admire about him.”

“Of course, of course,” the CEO assured her, though Nayoung couldn’t help but feel there was more to it. “He’ll be here for a few weeks. You’ll have plenty of time to make an impression.”

Nayoung nodded, her mind racing with the implications. She understood the stakes and the potential benefits, but she also valued her integrity and the authenticity of the collaboration.

As the meeting wrapped up, Nayoung left the office with a sour taste in her mouth she couldn’t place. While she liked Davy’s performances and music she was unsure if she would mesh with her personality. Regardless she resolved to handle the situation with grace and to focus on what truly mattered: the music.

Flash forward to today Davy gets a text from Cube that a representative would be on the way. So he goes through baggage claim and walks out to Arrivals and pick-ups where he waits. Surprisingly the wait isn't long. A cube representative does pick him up...just not the one he was expecting.

Nayoung pulls up to the curb nervous. This was the first time meeting one of her heroes and she hoped to make a good impression. She walks out and waves happily to him, but all she sees is shock and fear on his face as Davy Jones gets in with his three bags she notices that he didn’t even let her try and grab one. His silence and almost visceral refusal of her help were unsettling to Nayoung, where was his humor where was the light-hearted banter? Was it all an act she wondered, or maybe he was just tired.

Davy was frightened seeing only Nayoung there to pick him up. Sensing some kind of trick his guard was immediately up. He didn’t speak he didn’t let her near him any more than she had to be.

As she drove Davy to the hotel she tried to speak to him.

“So how do you like it here so far?” Nayoung asked gently

Davy Shrugged as he responded ambivalent, “It’s pretty. The skyscrapers remind me of home. Except y’all have less heat.” Said gruffly

Overcome by her habit of mimicking people and desperate to break this frigid man who has distinct speech patterns Nayoung replied in a similar tone.

“I take it y’all gotta lot of heat back home?”

Davy Jones smiled and nodded.

Nayoung beamed. She got one of her favorite artists to smile and laugh she won at life.

“So where do you wanna go?” Nayoung asked.

“Can we go to a studio? I have some things I need to iron out.” Davy Jones said serious

“But studio time is planned for tomorrow. Aren’t you worried you won’t have anything to do tomorrow?”

Davy Jones shook his head surprising Nayoung who shrugged and found a studio. She was also surprised by his paying the full amount for two hours in paper won.

He headed in and started working on the song that had been giving him trouble running through everyone’s part quickly. This surprised Nayoung because she didn’t know that Davy could play multiple instruments, and do clean vocals. When he finished he turned to Nayoung and asked if she could come in and record a chorus.

“So um I have been having issues with this song. Do you have any idea what it needs?” Nayoung was still in shock so she asked for another play-through. Davy Jones obliged he played it through for Nayoung who listened to the demo when it finished she said "I think the chorus needs to be softer," Davy Jones nodded and responded, "You wanna do that?" Nayoung's eyes went wide, and in her excitement said, "Of course!" Davy Jones cracked a smile as he set Nayoung up in the studio. Nayoung was beaming and asked if he could run off the chorus without vocals. Davy Jones nodded and Nayoung did her recording. Unsurprisingly she was exactly what Davy needed for the song and made some adjustments to the chorus and tempo (which made Davy have to remix and adjust the chorus instruments) then the song was perfect. Kind of a blend of Basilisk By Like Moths to Flame and Ghost of Me by Make Them Suffer. After he finished the mix for it Davy added it to his hard drive. All the while Nayoung watched enchanted as he did all the tasks and positions to get it done. When they got back to the car she noticed Davy’s eyes dimmed a bit and his energy was down. It made Nayoung have this pit in her heart.

As the duo drove off Nayoung felt closer to Davy Jones like she had seen more of who he was than anyone else. She felt so close that when she dropped him off at the hotel she said beaming,

“That was so exciting. You are like this artistic machine it’s crazy. You were buzzing around like super fast. I have never had a recording go so fast and simple. Davy smiled and said,

“I know what I want and know how to get it.” A brief flash in Nayoung’s mind was that she wanted to be gotten by Davy but realized that she needed to chill for a bit.

Davy smiled at Nayoung happy to work with her. He waved her off before heading into the hotel where he freaked out when he got in his room.

“She’s even prettier in person…this is going to be hard. All I have to do is not fall for her, and fight my impulses. She’s a colleague. One who I want to cherish and love… no bad brain and heart do not fall for Nayoung. Besides I have a job to finish.”

Davy Jones leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head as he hit send on the email containing the final track for The Flying Dutchman’s new album. The song featuring Nayoung had been a labor of love, and he was eager to hear what his label rep, Mike, thought of it.

Minutes later, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Davy picked it up, already knowing who it was.

“Davy, this is incredible!” Mike's voice boomed through the speaker, filled with enthusiasm. “The track with Nayoung is a hit. It’s got everything—emotion, energy, and that unique sound only you can bring.”

“Thanks, Mike. I’m glad you like it,” Davy replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Like it? I love it! We need to make this the touring single. It’s too good to pass up,” Mike continued, his excitement palpable. “When can you start the tour?”

Davy hesitated, glancing at the calendar on his desk. “I can’t leave South Korea just yet. I’m still helping Lightsum with their promotions. They’ve got a few big events coming up, and I promised to see them through.”

Mike sighed, but there was understanding in his tone. “Alright, I get it. But we’ll need to get you back on the road soon. This single deserves to be heard live.”

“I know, I know,” Davy reassured him. “I’ll wrap things up here as soon as I can.”

There was a brief pause before Mike asked, “So, Nayoung—she’s something, huh? What made you feature her?”

Davy chuckled. “She’s incredibly talented, for one. I’ve always admired her work, and when I came up with this project, she just seemed like the perfect fit. Her voice adds a whole new layer to the music.”

“And the Kraken side project? What’s the story there?” Mike inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.

Davy leaned back, contemplating his answer. “Kraken is more personal, a way for me to explore different sounds and ideas. It’s about pushing boundaries, both musically and personally. Working with someone like Nayoung fits right into that vision.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. This track is going to be huge,” Mike said, his confidence infectious.

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate the support. I’ll keep you posted on the timeline,” Davy promised.

The next day Nayoung picked up Davy they smiled when they saw each other and were chatting the whole way to Cube’s building. Davy thought it a bit weird at first that it was her and not all of Lightsum or a cube representative but his ease with Nayoung made it easier.

When they arrive at the studio Nayoung goes rejoins her group mates to formally greet Davy Jones.

“123 Hello we are Lightsum “The girls all smiled as Kraken waved back introducing himself. After that, the girls led him to the studio where he’d be working with them.

The studio was buzzing with energy as Lightsum gathered around the recording booth. Davy Jones, known to them as Kraken, was setting up equipment, his focus evident in the way he adjusted knobs and checked sound levels. The group was excited to collaborate with such a talented artist, and Nayoung was especially enthusiastic.

As Lightsum’s main producer played a rough cut of the track they were working on, Nayoung leaned in closer, nodding along to the beat. It was meant to be a remix of their hit song “Honey or Spice“. “This part sounds amazing,” she said about this space made on the song that was for his small space to do a quick sixteen bars, her eyes meeting Kraken’s with a bright smile.

“It is,” he replied, returning her smile. “Your vocals elevate it.”

Chowon, sitting nearby with her notebook, couldn’t help but notice the easy rapport between them. She observed how Nayoung and Kraken seemed to mirror each other’s movements, leaning in at the same time or laughing at shared jokes. It was subtle but unmistakable.

During a break, Nayoung approached Davy, offering him a bottle of water. “You’ve been working hard. Make sure you stay hydrated,” she said, her tone playful yet caring.

Davy chuckled, accepting the bottle. “Thanks, Nayoung. I appreciate it. I guess I got too dialed in.”

During the break Nayoung began humming a tune and the members of Lightsum noticed that Kraken was unconsciously making a beat to her little melody on the drum kit.

Chowon watched the exchange with interest, noticing how Nayoung lingered a moment longer than necessary, her attention fully on Kraken. It was clear to Chowon that there was an underlying chemistry between them. The other members noticed as well. They seemed to fire on all cylinders with each other.

As they resumed recording, Davy suggested a change in one of the verses. “What if we try it this way?” he proposed, demonstrating with his guitar.

Nayoung immediately picked up on the idea, adding her twist. “Or maybe like this?” she offered, her enthusiasm infectious.

Their collaboration flowed seamlessly, each suggestion building on the other’s ideas. Chowon marveled at how in sync they were, almost as if they were having a conversation through the music.

After the session, as the group gathered their things, Chowon sidled up to Nayoung, a teasing smile on her face. “You and Kraken seemed to have your own little world in there.”

Nayoung blushed, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. “Oh, come on. We’re just working well together,” she stammered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

Chowon raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Sure, just working. But you two have a vibe.”

Nayoung’s smile widened despite her embarrassment, and she glanced away, trying to hide her flustered expression. “It’s not like that,” she insisted, though her voice lacked conviction.

Chowon laughed softly, giving her friend a gentle nudge. “Okay, whatever you say. But your face says otherwise.”

Nayoung opened her mouth to protest, but Chowon held up a hand. “Listen, Nayoung, he obviously likes you, too. Why not see where it goes? You never know what could happen.”

Nayoung hesitated, considering Chowon’s words. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Chowon said with a reassuring smile. “You should go for it. Life’s too short to hold back on something that feels right.”

Nayoung nodded as the girls left to do their other schedules while she was left with Kraken. For her now there was only one worry, would he accept her being a mutant?

After the break, Kraken was working on more verses for the song and asked Nayoung what was the phrase "Our Time" Korean. She told Kraken and he added it to the verse. Eventually, he came up with something he was pleased with Sonically and lyrically. When he started rapping the members fluent in English and Koren noticed that his verse was doing something interesting. So the Korean parts contained idioms and sayings more associated with English and did the inverse with the English verbs creating this weird but kinda of funny split of lyrics.

After spending 5-6 hours working on the Honey or Spice remix. They finished up. The producer gave the go-ahead for Davy to take over. The rest of Lightsum left for their schedules as Nayoung was still "assigned to Davy Jones." Nayoung was surprised when his eyes dimmed and his face became serious again. It was weird and she wondered why he did this.

Davy Jones started playing drums until he found an intro he liked. Nayoung walked into the side of the studio he was in. Davy looked up to see Nayoung and asked if she wanted to do some vocals. Nayoung noticed that Davy Jones was trying to get around her, but she pinned him to the wall.

"Why are you so different when it's just us?" she asked Her eyes contained a fire Davy Jones didn't know what to do with

"I thought you liked me. So why are you always so distant when it's just us?" Davy Jones sighed realizing he was trapped.

"Simple I don't trust being alone with you...well not you personally but any female to be honest," Davy says which shocks Nayoung to her core.

"But why?"

"Because despite my best intentions every woman I have ever gotten close to only hurts me because they don't get me."

Nayoung paused as she tried to consider this. It would explain why out of all of the members of "The Flying Dutchman he was the only single one, despite being the most charismatic and "normal" one of the bunch. It also explained a few other things like never going for hugs when she opened her arms to greet him or his overall caginess around her.

"Okay I am going to do something I don't normally do, but I'll be right back," Nayoung said leaving Davy confused but he played along.

She went into the bathroom and changed into her X-men suit, before sneaking back into the studio where Davy Jones was.

She smiles then says, "Okay. I am a mutant and I want to try something. I want to enter your mind but I need you to relax."

Davy Jones (Whose parents and sisters are all telepaths) had a hard time relaxing about Nayoung's revelation, but his desire for intimacy overrode his defensiveness so he eased. Nayoung smiled before becoming engulfed in flames. Davy blinked thrice before freaking out. He tried booking it but Nayoung intercepted him. Despite her whole body being covered in Flames. When she touched Davy Jones her hands didn't burn him. She smiled brightly and said,

"Please let me in. I won't hurt you." Against his better judgment, he let Nayoung in.

Nayoung flew deep into Davy's mind she watched as the world faded away and was swallowed by an impossible expansive ocean. She watched as stars and other celestial bodies filled the skies. But something else was there with her. Nayoung ignored it looking for some form of guidance about this place but all she got was more of this following her until it caught her. When she felt this immense presence she turned around to see...Davy? It looked like him but it was different.

The entity spoke to her.

"Does anyone ever tell you you're hotter in person?" Davy said before laughing. Not understanding the joke Nayoung turned to him confused before Davy said, "Get it? Because you're covered in the fire? Or is this lava? I can't tell."

Nayoung smiled. This was the Davy she was familiar with. The smile he wore on interviews and the joviality he brought not only emotionally but physically. This Davy was goofy and fun.

"So Miss what do you want to see?" Kraken asked her.

"Well, what do you want to show me?

"Well, I'd love to show you my most positive memories but a lot of them are nerdy and really goofy."

Nayoung held up her hand and said, "I'd love to but I'd also like to see you how you see yourself."

Kraken's smile wavered a bit, but quickly returned, "Okay then fine."

Kraken guided Nayoung to the brightest star in this infinite ocean and guided her to it.

The room Davy Jones found himself in was stuffy and cold, as he waited for his first girlfriend to come through. Nayoung noticed he was covered in bruises.

"What happened?" she asked Kraken.

"Oh Football injuries," Kraken explained. Nayoung nodded a bit more at ease.

As he waited for his ride he noticed a bald woman approach him. he locked eyes with her in confusion.

"Oh, what a naughty boy out here all alone. Someone could hurt you."

Her accent said British which automatically put the young man on edge, as she approached. Her face held malice which frightened the younger Davy. Until she became too close. she touched his forehead and entered his mind. A vibrant seaside palace

"Ooh, you have one of the prettiest mind palaces I have ever seen." The bald woman said. Davy in his efforts tried to shake her off, but she was the strongest telepath he had encountered thus far. She tightened her grip on his mind. Massive tendril-like fingers weaved through them. As she got closer to his mind palace she sighed and said,

"Shame I have to break it." before tearing the palace apart and casting it into the ocean. she tore through Davy's memories suppressing the ones she deemed useless and enhancing the ones that would make him her perfect weapon. A lot of those memories included how worthless he would always be and how he would never amount to anything. These memories began to manifest as these massive chains.

Nayoung watched in Terror she knew this Telepath. it was Professor Charles Xavier's sister Cassandra Nova, and as the memories faded a defense began to mount itself against her.

. The voice was monotone and mechanical

"HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE."

from the oceans arrived a titanic beast, that swam through Davy's mind, which Nayoung recognized as Kraken.

What startled Nayoung the most about this memory was how as it became corrupted and this almost machine-like coldness began to warp it, all she could sense from the memory was Hate, but also surprisingly Hope. when she came back to the "real world" she held Davy Jones close.

He smiled unguarded with her.

"So what now?" he asked.

As Nayoung delved deeper into Kraken’s mind, the vast ocean of his subconscious swirled with stars and shadows. She moved carefully, feeling the echoes of his past. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The water around her grew turbulent, and a chilling presence made itself known.

From the depths emerged a figure shrouded in darkness, with piercing eyes that seemed to cut through the very fabric of his memories. It was Cassandra Nova, the malevolent telepath who had tormented Kraken in his past.

Nayoung felt Kraken’s fear and tension ripple through the ocean. The water grew cold and constricted as if reacting to the memory of Cassandra’s control. She could sense the trauma Kraken had endured, his defenses crumbling under Cassandra’s relentless assault.

“Little Davy,” Cassandra’s voice echoed, dripping with malice. “Did you think you could hide from me in your mind?”

The memory of Davy, younger and more vulnerable, appeared beside Nayoung. He was struggling against invisible chains, his face a mix of defiance and fear. Nayoung could see the weight of Cassandra’s influence bearing down on him, a testament to the psychological scars she had left.

Cassandra approached, her presence overwhelming. “Your powers are nothing compared to mine,” she taunted. “I could twist your thoughts, make you see what isn’t there. And you’d be helpless to stop me.”

The memory shifted, showing Kraken isolated, trapped in a web of illusions crafted by Cassandra. Nayoung watched as Kraken fought to maintain his sense of self, his mental barriers barely holding against the onslaught. The only thing that barely could stop her all combined into Kraken even little Davy mounted an all-out attack on the interloper

Determined to help, Nayoung reached out to the Kraken. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice carrying strength and warmth. “I’m here with you.”

The presence of Nayoung seemed to bolster the mental apparation of Kraken. The waters began to calm, the chains weakening. Cassandra’s image flickered, her control slipping as Nayoung’s influence spread through the memory.

“Who are you?” Cassandra hissed, her figure dissipating under the combined willpower of Nayoung and Kraken. “This isn’t over!”

As the memory faded, Nayoung found herself back in the present, holding Kraken’s hand tightly. His eyes opened, meeting hers with gratitude and relief. Tears running down his eyes. Nayoung Kraken wasn't a side project it was what remained of him mentally. she smiled at him before stroking his hair as he collapsed in her arms. when he recovered and got up he stammered.

"Um Sorry you had to see that. I um hope it wasn't too much. I just um," as Kraken stammered for words Nayoung smiled then said,

"Well Kraken I can wipe your mind off this little exchange and we can resolve your issues the normal way. Or we can have some fun now that you are "okay" with me with Cube's money." Nayoung said while waving a card out.

"I don't like telepaths touching my psyche too much so let's have some fun," Kraken said. Nayoung smiled as they walked towards the exit. On the way out she realized Kraken said Telepaths plural.

"Wait You know multiple telepaths besides Cassandra and I?" Nayoung asked Kraken nodded, and replied

"Yes, my two sisters, Mom, and Dad,"

"You're a mutant like me?" Nayoung questioned incredolous." Kraken nodded and said.

"While I don't really flex my powers all that much I am very proud to be one. My Song Buy it Back was mutant slang where I'm from."

Nayoung's eyes went wide as she listened.

"That explains so much now Like the song Brotherhood, or the song Milita... no wonder I feel such a connection to you. Okay now that I know I have to ask the obligatory: Who do you side more with Xavier or Erik?" Nayoung asked.

Having been exposed to the question numerous times growing up Kraken picked his favorite response.

"Neither. their dead and have been dead for 15 years or so."

Nayoung rolled her eyes and then said. "Okay, then Mr. Smart Alek. What about Logan or Scott?"

Kraken smirked as he responded, "Oh Neither they're are both the worst. My choices are between a racist and a war criminal. Neither." Kraken said as he got in the car with Nayoung who pouted.

Nayoung turned to him with an annoyed smile. "How did you survive on Krakoa?"

Kraken shrugged as he responded, "I have never been."

Nayoung's brain broke upon hearing that, "What do you mean you have never been to Karkoa?"

Kraken shrugged before responding, "No Point."

"What do you mean no point? You are a proud mutant you need to go to the motherland." Nayoung challenged.

"My "Motherland" is Cali Missy," Kraken said which made Nayoung smile despite being teased. The two drove to a nearby Ramen shop

As they pulled up to the cozy ramen shop nestled on a bustling street corner, Nayoung parked the car and turned to Kraken with a playful smile.

“This place has the best ramen in town. You’re in for a treat!” she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

Kraken grinned, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I trust your taste. Lead the way.”

As they stepped out of the car, Nayoung reached for Kraken’s hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He glanced down at their joined hands and then back at her, feeling a warmth spread through him.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, with the comforting aroma of simmering broth and freshly cooked noodles wafting through the air. They were seated at a small table by the window, offering a view of the lively street outside.

After placing their orders, Nayoung leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So, you mentioned your family earlier. What’s it like having a family full of telepaths?”

Kraken chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “It’s… interesting, to say the least. Privacy is a bit of a challenge, but we’ve learned to respect each other’s boundaries. Once my powers kicked in and I was able to create mental barriers it was a lot easier. What about you? How did your family react to your abilities? Wait are you a first-generation mutant?”

Nayoung smiled softly. “ No, my dad was a flame user and my mom was an empath. Their powers combined when they had me. They were a bit surprised when I burst into flames in front of them but they were supportive. A bit surprised, but they always encouraged me to embrace who I am. My mom always says I’m destined for great things.”

Kraken squeezed her hand gently. “I’m not surprised. You’re pretty amazing, Nayoung.”

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and looked down at their intertwined fingers. “You’re not so bad yourself, Kraken.”

They both laughed, the sound mingling with the soft chatter of other diners. Their ramen arrived, steaming and fragrant, and they released each other’s hands to pick up their chopsticks.

Between bites, Kraken asked, “Do you ever feel like you have to prove yourself because of your abilities?”

Nayoung nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes. But I try to focus on what I can do, not what others expect of me. What about you? Do you feel pressure, especially with your family being mutants?”

Kraken shrugged. “A bit. But I’m learning to carve my own path. It helps to have people who understand.” He glanced at her, his expression softening.

Nayoung reached across the table, touching his hand lightly. “Well, I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to.”

He smiled, turning his hand to hold hers again. “I appreciate that.”

"So what are your powers?" Nayoung asked.

Kraken thought for a moment and made some gestures with his hands before giving up. He noticed Nayoung had some beef on her cheek and grabbed a napkin to wipe it off. Nayoung smiled at his cute gesture. She watched as the gears in his mind turned as he processed. It was something she had seen him do a couple of times now. Mostly when he's working on Music.

"So my powers are weird. I take the residual psionic energy that all mutants give off and use it that alter reality in a limited range that increases per mutant in the range. It also increases depending on the strength of the mutant as well.

Nayoung's eyes widened and she asked, "Well how much range do I give you."

"25 meters," Kraken answered

"So with me around I make you a god for 25 meters?" Nayoung asked.

Kraken smirked at her assumption, "Um yes and no. My powers are limited to a very specific range and while powerful are limited to my perception of reality."

"What do you mean?" Nayoung asked.

"I am a limited being. I can't know or think of everything." Kraken explained

Nayoung nodded thoughtfully "Okay, so your power is limited by your creativity and range."

Kraken nodded as he clarified "Yes. So if a telepath engages with my brain and I don't have my powers up they can do really bad things. Typically I know when one is near so that is less of an issue, but to use my powers I have let my Psionic barriers down leaving me super open to Telepaths."

"Okay So keep you protected from Psionics with my powers. Got it." Nayoung teased. Kraken chuckled and said

"Bold are you."

Nayoung smiled, "Yes I am. Besides you are my boy now whether you like it or not."

"Really in two days, you are claiming me?" Kraken asked confused

Nayoung nodded "Of course. You're my little angry heavy metal buddy."

Kraken was bewildered as he responded, "But Nayo I am taller than you by 14 inches."

"Yes, but you're heart's smaller so you're just my little guy." Nayoung teased.

Kraken laughed it off before wanting some clarity on Nayoung's powers.

"So how do your powers work?"

"Well, my powers work like so. My psionic flames cover me while I use them and increase my psionic powers of telepathy, pyrokinesis, and Telekinesis,"

Kraken nodded at Nayoung's explanation.

As they finished their meal, Nayoung looked at Kraken with a playful glint in her eyes. “So, what’s next on our adventure?”

Kraken returned her smile, feeling a sense of ease and excitement he hadn’t experienced in a while. “I guess we’ll have to see where the night takes us.”

"Karaoke?" Nayoung suggested.

"Sure" Kraken agreed. Nayoung paid for their meal and then took him to a nearby Karaoke Parlor, where they rented a room for a couple of hours. On the way in there was a claw Machine. In said Claw Machine was a rabbit keychain that Nayoung wanted. She raced to the Machine and made three attempts at it, but failed.

"I know there is supposed to be a trick to these, but why not use your powers to secure it?"

"Because that's cheating?" Nayoung replied stubbornly

"but these machines cheat. All the time."

"Well, I like beating cheaters by being better than them. Now are you going to help me or not?" Nayoung said defiantly.

Kraken rolled his eyes and let down his psionic barriers, as he put the coin in. Nayoung who was unaware watched as he upped his Luck percentage so high that the machine would give him the keychain when he was successful he gave her the keychain. Nayoung smiled and said,

"Thanks, big guy,"

Kraken smiled and said, "Oh now I am a big guy." Kraken teasese and Nayoung rolls her eyes. As they finally entered the room Nayoung hugged Kraken for the first time, well outside of a traumatic response from Kraken. She felt a cool warmth that was peaceful. It felt like a summer day at the beach. Kraken smirked confused.

"Um, what was that for?"

"You seemed like you'd be a good hugger and you are. I wonder how good of a kisser you are." Nayoung said absent minded. Kraken kindly ignored that as he searched for a song to play. He laughed when he saw his on the list but none from "The Flying Dutchman" Nayoung laughed with him saying,

"You know I didn't like "Buy it Back"." She said.

Kraken laughed and said, "Fair. I am often surprised it got so much love."

Nayoung held her hand up, "No I get why it did. It's got all the hallmarks of your art. Cheeky defiance in the face of similar-sounding music. It was a rallying war cry and killer instrumentation. My only wish it was more metal instead of a rap bop."

Kraken laughed and said, "Well then little miss Metalhead. Do you want to write a song together?"

Nayoung's eyes went wide and said, "Absolutely."

Kraken smiled as he picked hot and spicy. She laughed when he really tried to go for it on Nayoung's parts of the song, and smiled that he showed that he cared about not only her music but her art. after the song Nayoung smiled at Kraken.

"That was pretty good. What do you want to hear me sing?" Nayoung asked

"Oh that's easy Dreamcatcher, Odd eye."

Nayoung smiled, "you know they are how I found out about you." she said

Kraken's eyes widened before saying, "Wait they know about me?"

Nayoung laughed, "No but you were on their recommended video under Odd eye,"

Kraken laughed then said, "So I guess Odd Eye is our wedding song."

Nayoung laughed at the joke with a hearty smile. After singing Odd eye to a wildly impressed Kraken a competition ensued between them of who could sing better. No one really won this competition but they did impress each other with their vocal range and catalogue of music knowledge. After that Nayoung dropped off Kraken back at his hotel.

"I am glad that you're my "babysitter". Despite my earlier reservations," Kraken said.

Nayoung turned to him surprised, "What do you mean?"

"Um well, You have been stuck with me and doing whatever I want instead of you being able to be with your group. At first, I thought this was a manipulation attempt but honestly, this time with you has been some of the most fun I have had making music. Also one of my most healing times as well."

Nayoung's heart swelled. At that moment, she realized how much she had grown to like Kraken and how well they clicked, but also what surprised her was how smart he was to pick up on what Cube was doing."

"Why did you accept the offer?" Nayoung asked, she looked at Kraken who smiled at her, and then she added, "Your interviews make you seem like the one who embraces the rockstar identity more so than the other members of "The Flying Dutchman but spending all this time with you, and seeing how thoughtful you are. This seems like you would hate the fakeness of all of this. So I have to ask Why?"

Kraken smiled, "Obligation, I see all of this, and now that Cube is throwing y'all away. So why not see if I can help out at all." he explained

Nayoung looked at him with big happy eyes before grabbing him tight. Despite his awkward return she said, "Thank you for not giving up on us." Kraken pat Nayoung's back before leaving. while he walked out he waved back to her. Nayoung smiled and waved back until she lost visibility of him before driving back to her dorm.

Nayoung entered the dormitory, her cheeks slightly flushed from the day’s excitement. As she closed the door behind her, the familiar sounds of laughter and music filled the air. The other members of LIGHTSUM were scattered around the living room, lounging on the sofas and floor.

Juhyeon was the first to notice her arrival. She looked up from her phone and grinned widely. “Look who finally decided to come home!”

The others immediately perked up, turning their attention to Nayoung with mischievous smiles.

“Someone had a busy day,” Sangah teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “Was it fun?”

Nayoung rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool. “It was just ramen and some music stuff,” she replied, but the slight smile on her face betrayed her.

Chowon leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Oh, sure, just ramen. And who was the lucky guy you had ramen with?”

“Yeah, spill!” added Yujeong, clapping her hands excitedly. “We need all the juicy details.”

Nayoung sighed, knowing she couldn’t escape their playful interrogation. “Fine, fine. I was with Davy—Kraken, from The Flying Dutchman.”

There was a collective gasp of delight and surprise, and the teasing began in earnest.

“Kraken? The heavy metal guy?” Hina exclaimed, eyes wide. “Isn’t he super mysterious and cool?”

Jian joined in, nudging Nayoung’s arm. “I bet he’s got that brooding musician vibe. Did he sing you a love song?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Nayoung couldn’t help but laugh along with them. “He’s actually really sweet and funny,” she admitted, warmth in her voice. “We just talked and had a good time.”

“Talked, huh?” Juhyeon teased, nudging her playfully. “Holding hands, maybe?”

Nayoung’s blush deepened, and she covered her face with her hands. “Okay, maybe a little,” she mumbled, eliciting more squeals from her friends.

“Well, it sounds like you had a great time,” Sangah said, smiling warmly. “We’re happy for you, Nayoung.”

Nayoung looked around at her friends, grateful for their support and camaraderie. “Thanks, everyone. It was nice.”

“Just promise us one thing,” Chowon said, holding up a finger. “You’ll invite us to your wedding!”

The room filled with laughter again, and Nayoung shook her head, amused by their antics. “I’ll think about it,” she joked, knowing she wouldn’t hear the end of it any time soon.

The rest of the week was a blur of discussions; logistics, royalties, and promotion cycles. This led to Kraken appearing on quite a few shows with Lightsum.

In between one of those shows and another Chowon "confronts" Kraken over his time spent with Nayoung.

Backstage at the bustling music show venue, the air was filled with the sounds of instruments tuning and crew members rushing to set up for the next performance. Kraken leaned against a wall, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene, enjoying the brief lull between shows. As he took a sip of water, he noticed Chowon making her way towards him with a determined look on her face.

“Hey, Kraken,” she greeted, stopping in front of him. Her expression was friendly but serious, the kind of look that told him this wasn’t just a casual chat.

“Hey, Chowon,” he replied, curious about the purpose of her visit. “What’s up?”

She crossed her arms and gave him a scrutinizing look. “I wanted to talk to you about Nayoung.”

Kraken raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What about her?”

Chowon’s demeanor softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. “You two have been spending a lot of time together, and I just wanted to make sure you know how important she is to all of us. She’s like a sister to me.”

He nodded, understanding the underlying message. “I get it. Nayoung’s great, and I really enjoy being with her.”

“Good,” Chowon said, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Because if you ever hurt her, I’ll have to kick your butt.”

Kraken chuckled, appreciating her protectiveness. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. But seriously, I have no intention of hurting her. She’s… special.”

Chowon’s expression softened further, and she smiled. “I can see that. She talks about you a lot, you know.”

“Really?” Kraken asked a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah,” Chowon confirmed, leaning against the wall next to him. “She’s been happier lately, more relaxed. That’s a good thing.”

Kraken felt a warmth in his chest at her words. “I’m glad to hear that. She makes me feel pretty happy too.”

Chowon nodded, satisfied with his response. “Just remember, she has all of us looking out for her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kraken promised, meeting her gaze with sincerity.

“Great,” Chowon said, her tone lightening. “Now, I think it’s almost showtime. Ready to rock the stage?”

Kraken grinned, feeling the energy of the impending performance. “Always.”

They killed all the performances and had runaway hits. Lightsum was on track to be a household name. To Celebrate this massive momentum shift the group plus Kraken had a little party on a rooftop bar.

The evening was filled with laughter and chatter as Kraken sat with the members of LIGHTSUM at a cozy rooftop bar, enjoying the view of the city lights twinkling below. The atmosphere was relaxed, and Kraken felt a sense of camaraderie and warmth among the group. It was his last night in Korea, and he was determined to make the most of it.

As Sangah told a funny story that had everyone in stitches, Kraken's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and saw Mike's name flashing. Excusing himself from the table, he stepped away from the noise to answer the call.

“Hey, Mike!” Kraken greeted, holding the phone to his ear.

“Kraken, my man!” Mike's voice boomed with excitement. “You’re not gonna believe the buzz that’s happening over here. Your performances have been a massive hit! Everyone’s talking about you!”

Kraken smiled, pleased to hear the positive feedback. “That’s great to hear! I’m glad people are enjoying it.”

“More than enjoying it—they’re loving it!” Mike continued enthusiastically. “When you get back, we need to capitalize on this hype. I’m thinking we can push for some big promotions. Maybe even a solo tour or a collaboration with some big names.”

Kraken’s smile faded slightly as he caught the emphasis on solo work. “Uh, Mike, you keep mentioning promoting me as Kraken. What about The Flying Dutchman?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Mike responded, his tone slightly less enthusiastic. “Well, of course, there’s The Flying Dutchman, but I’m talking about opportunities for you as an individual artist. You’ve got this incredible momentum right now.”

Kraken took a deep breath, feeling the need to be firm. “I appreciate the excitement, Mike, but The Flying Dutchman is my project with the rest of the band. We’ve built this together, and I’m not interested in sidelining them. If we’re promoting, it’s gotta be all of us.”

Mike hesitated, then sighed, understanding Kraken's stance. “I get it, I do. But think about how much bigger you could be if you pursued this solo angle.”

���I’m already big enough with the band,” Kraken said with a slight chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light. “And that’s where I’m happiest—creating with them. We’re a team.”

There was a pause, and then Mike’s tone softened. “Alright, I hear you. We’ll focus on promoting The Flying Dutchman. Just know the offer’s there if you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate it,” Kraken replied, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

As he hung up and returned to the table, the LIGHTSUM members greeted him with smiles and curiosity.

“Everything okay?” Chowon asked, noticing the thoughtful look on his face.

Kraken nodded, taking his seat again. “Yeah, just some talk about the future. But right now, I’m here with you guys, and that’s all that matters.”

Chowon laughs and then says. "Well if that's the case there is someone you need to talk to." before pointing at a partying Nayoung. Kraken smiles. Nayoung and he had both been avoiding the "So what happens next" talk because they knew that. It was going to hurt no matter what happened, but it was now or never.

Nayoung smiled when she saw Kraken approached.

"Hey Nayoung can we talk?" he said.

Nayoung sighed, she noticed he wasn't using her cute nickname Nayo which meant this was serious. She nods and the two find a quiet end of the bar to chat.

"So what happens next," Kraken asks.

Nayoung thought about his words... she knew they were about to go heavy into tours and traveling, which meant strain on their friendship.

"Well the way I see it we can put our friendship on pause, or you can move out to Korea, and we see where the rest of this takes us."

"I am not moving out here, but my powers do grant me limited teleportation."

"Wait really?"

"Kinda. Typically I need an anchor point. Usually, that's an omega level or higher mutant, but I think I know a girl."

Nayoung pouted not realizing who he was referring to. She stood up from the seat flustered, "Who is she, and how did you meet her out here?" she asked. Kraken furrowed his brow in confusion before pointing to Nayoung. Nayoung finally made the connection and laughed heartily.

Nayoung smiled and then said, "Okay well that changes things because if I knew you'd always be a quick teleport away we could have spent more time together."

Kraken nodded then asked for confirmation, "Okay so that's the plan?"

Nayoung nodded then replied, "Yes I have custody of you on the weekends."

"That's an interesting way to put it." Kraken looked at her funny while he responded

Nayoung raised a defiant eyebrow, and asked "Am I wrong?"

"No Nayo, it's just funny," Kraken replied

"Good now dance with me," she said as her favorite song came on. The two danced all night as their hearts poured themselves out on the dancefloor. Nayoung and Kraken felt at peace in each other's arms, and just like that. A spark ignited between the two "Friends" as both felt their hearts yearn for something more.

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

Can I please request a concussion story. A bad concussion and a character that just refuses to go to the hospital even though they feel and are soooo sick:)

This took a lil longer than I thought it would🥲.

!emeto warning!

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

“Who brought chips?” Eliana asked, shouting so everyone who was scattered around Jordan’s apartment could hear.

“Not me,” Birdie said from across Jordan’s huge living room. “I brought the cookies.”

“I brought the charcuterie board,” Amberlynn shouted from Jordan’s guest room where she was collecting all the pillows and blankets she could. “I brought facemasks, too, by the way.”

“I think Oliver’s bringing chips,” Jordan said, hugging El from behind and kissing her cheek. “But if he’s not, we’re screwed.”

Spirit was in the kitchen, music blaring on her headphones and chopping tomatoes and basil. She was the only one who hadn’t brought anything since they’d all agreed to put her in charge of cooking. The apartment smelled incredible, filled with the scent of the five small pizzas she was making, one for each of them. Except one for Birdie who hated pizza, and Spirit was making pasta for her.

Amberlynn came out of the guest bedroom, carrying a mountain of pillows and blankets to the couch that she couldn’t even see. She was going in the wrong direction, towards the kitchen, and Birdie laughed as she helped to guide the poor girl.

Suddenly, the front door opened and Oliver came in, a few grocery bags in hand. “Hey,” he said, smiling as he went to the kitchen with the bags.

“Did you bring chips?” Eliana asked, walking over to her phone on the coffee table so she could put on some music.

“Yeah,” Oliver answered.

Eliana let out a dramatic sigh, loudly groaning, “Thank God!”

Oliver chuckled. “I’ve got Salt & Vinegar, Cheetos, kettle chips, Doritos, and tortilla chips with salsa.”

Spirit, for the first time since she started cooking, lifted one of her headphones to focus on Oliver. “You brought salsa?” she asked, and Birdie cackled because of all things, it was salsa that got Spirit’s attention.

All the chips were put into bowls, the salsa in a little dip dish, the cookies on a plate, and all of the stuff was put on Jordan’s coffee table along with the charcuterie board. Spirit took the pizzas out of the oven to cool, and the fun began.

Jordan had a hoard of boardgames—they were kind of an obsession of hers—and they played one after the other. Jordan won Monopoly. Spirit won Trouble. The game UNO became intense, and Amberlynn won that one. As for Birdie, she won everything else—Clue, Connect 4, Guess Who, etc…

Oliver and Eliana won nothing, but Eliana was fine with that since she was having fun styling and un-styling her girlfriend’s hair over and over, and Oliver was enjoying himself too much to care about winning or losing.

When they ate the pizzas that Spirit made—and Birdie ate her pasta—they put on The Devil Wears Prada and watched that until the movie ended around midnight.

Facemasks came after that, and all six of them took selfies in the bathroom mirror.

For over an hour, they all just talked about whatever they could think of. Spirit ate more than half of the tortilla chips with salsa—mainly because it was the hot kind of salsa and not the mild kind—and Amberlynn suggested that they should make hot chocolate, even though she ate the most out of all of them.

By two in the morning, Jordan had literally fallen asleep on the living room rug, and instead of waking her up to move her, Eliana just threw a blanket on top of the girl.

“Can I shower first?” Oliver asked, holding his PJs that he’d quickly gotten from his car.

“Go ahead,” Eliana said, focused on painting an elaborate starry design on Amberlynn’s nails.

“Fine with me,” Spirit said, watching Demon Slayer on her phone while Birdie began to also doze off with her head on Spirit’s lap.

Oliver went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel from a closet on his way there.

The music in the living room was still playing. He was quietly singing along to Light Switch by Charlie Puth—the song currently playing—as he stepped into the shower. Jordan had a habit of taking all of the tiny shampoos, conditioners and mini-soaps from hotels, so Oliver was using some of those.

The song in the living room changed, and suddenly TongueTied by Grouplove was playing, and Oliver couldn’t help but bounce on his heels a bit to the beat of the song while mouthing along to the lyrics.

He quickly regretted that decision when, suddenly, he slipped because of the soapy water and fell back, too quick for him to even react. He didn’t even yelp, but he did grunt when his head hit the wall, hard.

He opened his eyes, blinking heavily, and then closed them again. After five minutes or so, he opened them again, confused for a second. There was a ringing in his ears, and he felt dizzy.

He sat up, groaning and planting a hand on the back of his head, massaging the sore spot there. The hot water still rushing over him made the spot sting a bit.

He stayed sitting for a second before he felt steady enough to stand and get out of the shower. He got in his PJs, and left the bathroom, the back of his head still throbbing.

No one mentioned hearing any kind of thud from the bathroom, and Oliver realized they must not have heard it with the music still playing, and he was thankful because he honestly felt a little embarrassed about it.

Birdie was zonked out on the couch, so Spirit showered next. Then El, and then Amber.

Later, Eliana and Amberlynn were playing a round of Connect 4 by themselves, and Spirit was still watching anime when Oliver suddenly felt really exhausted.

He grabbed one of the many pillows and blankets, curled up on a sofa chair, and fell asleep.

— — —

At four in the morning, Oliver woke up with his head pounding. Not just hurting like a headache, but absolutely throbbing!

He groaned, pressing a hand to his temple as he blinked dizzily, trying to remember where he was. Suddenly, he noticed that in the dark room, Spirit was still awake on the couch, on her phone with her headphones on. Everyone else was asleep now.

Oliver uncurled, on the sofa chair, resting his elbows on his knees and clutching his head in his hands. He could feel saliva pooling in his mouth. The floor was swaying beneath him—

“Oliver?”

The voice was too loud.

“You okay?” Spirit asked, her voice actually pretty quiet since everyone else was asleep.

Oliver looked up at her tiredly. “I’m fine,” he whispered, yawning and then wincing when that caused a spike of pain in his head. Then he asked her, “Why’re you still awake?”

She stayed quiet, saying nothing for a minute before shrugging and saying, “Not tired.”

Oliver was in too much pain to notice if there was something off about Spirit’s answer.

Dizzily, he halfheartedly mumbled something about going to the bathroom and stood, only to immediately sway on his feet and almost fall back down. His head felt detached from his body and all too heavy at the same time. . . if that made any sense at all?

Spirit noticed his slight stumble and looked up from her phone, taking out her headphones. She watched as Oliver stumbled weirdly over to the bathroom. But maybe he was just still half-asleep?

Spirit was about to put her headphones back on when she heard Oliver let out a pained yell that startled her. “Oliver?” she asked, her alarmed voice loud enough to have the others stir and to have Birdie groan and blink awake.

Birdie rubbed her eyes and mumbled, “Spirit, why’re you awake?”

Spirit didn’t answer, standing and all but jogging over to the bathroom. The door was open, the light was on, and Oliver wasn’t even all the way inside, curled up on his knees in the doorway with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clutching his head, fingers pulling at his hair.

“Shit,” Spirit cursed, crouching beside him and putting a hand on his back. “Oliver, what’s wrong?” She wasn’t whispering, and the loudness of her voice caused Oliver to whimper and making his face screw with pain. Tears even began to roll from his eyes, and Spirit had no idea what to do.

Just as she was about to go wake up the others, Oliver gagged, and the force was enough to make the pain double in his head.

“Crap. Okay, let’s go to the toilet,” Spirit said, softening her voice to try and sound comforting, not because she realized that she was being too loud earlier. “Just a few steps.”

Oliver groaned as Spirit made him stand up, taking on almost all of his weight, and brought him over to the toilet.

He hovered over it, eyes still squeezed shut in agony. “Thh’lit,” he murmured quietly, and Spirit had to lean forward a bit to hear him try again and mumble, “The light. . . h-hurts.”

Eyes widening, Spirit stood and quickly turned the lights off. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and she crouched beside Oliver again. “What’s going on? Is this a migraine or something?” Oliver didn’t get migraines though. Right?

His eyes were still closed, but not squeezed shut so tightly anymore. He didn’t answer though, and he gagged before bringing up a stream of half-digested puke into the toilet, sobbing from the pain that the force of puking brought to his skull.

Spirit’s eyes widened even more. “Shit. Why are you crying, Oliver? What’s wrong?” Spirit wasn’t a soft person, but Oliver was literally the sweetest person alive, and seeing him crying and in pain brought out this very very rare side of Spirit.

“Head. . . hurrrts,” he groaned before gagging again.

“Spirit? What’s going on?”

Spirit turned her head and saw Birdie standing in the doorway, looking confused and stunned.

“Bird,” Spirit, sighed, sounding relieved. “Something’s wrong with Oliver. Wake the others up, and then call Keiko. I don’t know what—”

Suddenly, Oliver threw up again. The sound of liquid hitting liquid made Birdie gag, and Spirit whisper-yelled, “Go!”

Birdie went back to the living room, and Oliver groaned, coughing and spitting up a small stream of bile.

Suddenly, Amberlynn and Eliana came to the bathroom, and Spirit heard Jordan on the phone in the living room.

“What’s going on?” Amberlynn asked, crouching down next to Spirit. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Spirit said, rubbing Oliver’s back. “I was awake and he went to the bathroom, and he says that his head—”

Spirit was cut off when Eliana suddenly turned on the lights and the sudden brightness made Oliver cry out in pain, once again clutching his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Turn off the fucking light!” Spirit whisper-yelled at Eliana, and the girl quickly shut the light back off, whispering, “sorry sorry sorry!”

Oliver threw up again, chocking on his sick a bit and Spirit thumped his back lightly to help.

“His head hurts,” Spirit said. “I don’t know why though. He doesn’t get migraines, right?”

“I don’t think so,” Amberlynn said, reaching a hand forward to cup Oliver’s forehead. He didn’t have a fever.

Oliver groaned, spitting into the toilet and murmuring, “I don’ffffeel good.”

Jordan came to the bathroom then, her phone still pressed to her ear. “Keiko’s on his way. He asked what’s wrong with him.” Her voice was alarmed and too loud, and Oliver let out a whine, wincing.

“Lower your voice,” Amberlynn said, her voice soft. “He has a headache and he’s throwing up a lot.”

Spirit looked away from Oliver, focusing on Jordan. “Tell Kei that Oliver’s sensitive to light and loud sounds. He’s in a lot of pain.”

Jordan repeated the words to her brother, her voice now quieter. After a second, Jordan said to Spirit, “Kei says to feel through his hair to check if there’s some kind of bump or something.”

Check for a concussion? Spirit was a bit unsure that a concussion would be the case, but she began gently feeling through Oliver’s hair anyway. Lo and behold, she felt a bump on the back of his scalp that made him grimace and whimper when she touched it.

“Shit,” she sighed. “Kei’s right. I think he’s concussed.”

El’s and Amberlynn’s eyes both widened.

“How the hell did he get concussed?” El asked, looking shocked. “He was fine earlier.”

“I don’t know, but that’s not important right now.” Spirit squeezed Oliver’s shoulder. “Are you done?” she asked in a voice that shocked the other girls in the bathroom. Spirit noticed their surprise and her cheeks flushed a bit with embarrassment, but she ignored them and focused on Oliver.

He spat one more time in the toilet before nodding.

“Okay.” Spirit looked at Amberlynn. “Help me get him up.”

Jordan was still talking to Keiko on the phone while they half-dragged Oliver out of the bathroom.

Birdie—not wanting to deal with the puking—had instead helped by bringing some pillows and blankets back to the guest room and setting it up for them to bring Oliver there.

By the time Oliver was lying on the bed, he was almost completely out of it because of the pain.

“Should we take him to the hospital?” Birdie whispered from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling the blankets up to Oliver’s chin and gently rubbing a hand on his forehead. Birdie had naturally cold hands, and her cool skin was a comforting feeling to Oliver.

“Maybe,” Eliana shrugged, sounding unsure.

Oliver frowned. “I don’need a ‘sspital. I’mfffine.”

Spirit scoffed at his slurred disagreement, and Jordan repeated Birdie’s question to Keiko. After a second, she said, “Keiko says that taking him to the hospital would be the best idea. He’ll meet us there.”

“Noooo,” Oliver whined, shifting on the bed. “Mmmm’fine. I’m okay. Jusss’ a lil’dizzy.”

Amberlynn frowned at him. “Oliver, you can barely speak.” She looked at the others. “Should we call an ambulance, or should we just drive him there?”

“I can drive,” Spirit said, leaving the room to grab her keys.

Oliver was pouting while blinking dizzily at his friends. Despite the fact that the world felt like it was spinning and his head was pounding, he didn’t want to go to the hospital. Not for any particular reason other than he just didn’t want to. “I don’nneed t’go to the ‘spital.”

Amberlynn and Jordan got shoes and a jacket on Oliver before trying to get him on his feet again.

He whined as soon as he was upright, knees buckling and almost taking the girls down. His feet were nearly dragging as they took him out of the apartment.

When they got out to the parking lot, Spirit had gotten her car and pulled it up so they didn’t have to walk far.

“Get him lying down in the back,” Spirit instructed. “We can’t all fit in my car. “Jor, you come with us. The rest of you, follow in Amberlynn’s car.”

Spirit’s tone had all of them listening. Once Oliver was in the back seat, Jordan got in the passenger side with Keiko still on the phone. The rest of the girls went straight to Amberlynn’s car since Birdie had grabbed all of their phones, wallets and keys beforehand.

Spirit was a fast but safe driver, and made sure they were going quick while being smooth enough to not rattle Oliver in the back seat.

Jordan looked at Spirit and noticed her grip on the wheel was so tight that her knuckles were pale. “Hey,” Jordan whispered, making Spirit jump slightly; a show of how tense she was. “Everything’s fine,” Jordan assured her.

Spirit nodded, letting out a deep breath. “So much for sleepover night,” she grumbled.

Jordan let out her own sigh before whispering, this time more for her own sake than Spirit’s, “Everything’s fine.”

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

Part 2?????

[bakedbakermom]

Maybe it's because of the time in my life in which I was forced to watch it but I really fucking hate Devil Wears Prada.

Backstory: me, a 20-year-old with a life-threatening eating disorder, was living in a house with 5-8 other girls in the same condition (residential treatment center). Every weekend we had a house budget to go do various normal teen/young adult stuff. Often we'd spend the money on a trip to the movies, but the movie had to be approved by the staff.

That weekend in particular, we all voted to go see Crank, but the staff decided a movie about a guy seeking thrills so he wouldn't die of no adrenaline was too dangerous to expose a group of eating disordered teens/20-somethings to. They got us tickets for DWP instead.

When I say we tore them all a new one when we got home...

Sure let's send a group of vulnerable girls to see a movie about the fashion industry where one character is on an ice-cube and paper diet (guess how many of us had done that and were triggered beyond words) and another is constantly derided for being a size 4 (how many of us were crying at the thought of becoming that size) and is later praised for dropping to a 2??

Seeing our very real traumas played for laughs soured me forever on this movie. All us girls sat down and wrote a letter not only to the staff who had made us go, but to the producers of the movie themselves for somehow managing to both glorify and trivialize the very behaviors that we were trying to NOT let kill us.

A couple of us left the theater in fucking tears. We bitched about it for weeks. I am apparently still bitching about it after almost 2 decades (much better with regards to the eating disorder though, thankfully). Seriously what the fuck is this movie.

[chiccherrysblog]

Day 16? Of making life more interesting-

I read somewhere that writing five hundred or more words it can really benefit you if you want a career in writing. So far it really hasn't been that bad. I mean I know im not so good with actually posting on here but im trying and I've still been writing but there is just something more satisfying about writing on paper. The way it feels with the pen on it you know? It just satisfies my brain in ways I no longer understand. Anyway, I just watched the proposal with Sandra bullock and Ryan Reynolds. Since watching it I have noticed the fact that it is just a common theme for editors to fall in love with their assistants. I mean look at mirandy. It's basically a straight version of them. Also watching Sandra bullock climb down a ladder in stilettos has given me a higher respect for her. I mean I already respected her for participating in the masterpiece that is oceans eight, but now it has dramatically increased.

Also, I've just realised how much I actually have to save in order to even have enough money for a plane ticket to view apartments in New york, including the possibility of having roomates. I say plural due to the amount of time I've spent in an evening watching friends and reading the devil wears prada. Honestly would not complain with either option. After sharing a room with my sister for quite a few years now, I'm guessing I could survive living with random strangers who could either be the nicest people on the planet or make me want to tear my own hair out. It shouldn't be that hard. Right? Maybe? I dont know. As long as I can invest in some good headphones and WiFi it should mean I can still work my way to the top without seriously considering living in a random hotel somewhere. If miranda could do it, so can I. I hope. I mean I know i can do all the academic stuff but I seriously need to work on my people skills. And being able to tolerate random small noises. And certain people. And coffee being made differently to how i make it. It shouldn't be that hard. I mean I should get to the bit where I can just sort of zone out all of the potentially irritating and distracting and not completely necessary noises. I can still get my pulitzer prize after becoming a US citizen which is harder than I thought it was and oh my god if I keep writing about this I'm pretty sure I may have yet another not even at quarter life crisis. So um...today was okay other than the crisis and migraine that doesn't seem to want to leave no matter how many of those stupid painkillers I take. My new years resolution doesn't seem to have worked as I find myself drinking more coffee than when the year started.

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

Thanks for the tag @frostysfrenzy !! Sorry it took me a bit I been goin' thru it :,)

Are you named after anyone? Yeah Kathryn Janeway bc my parents love Star Trek

Last time you cried? Earlier in the day lmao I'm goin' thru it

Do you have kids? God no I am a 23 year old teenage girl

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Uhhh sometimes idk time and place I guess

First thing you notice about people? Usually if they're going to be a pain in the ass or not. I've been in customer service for almost 10 years so you get a spidey sense for that

Eye colour? Mine? Blue. Favourite? Brown.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings I guess?

Special talents? I make balloon animals at most town events that are too cheap to pay for my dad (I cost 20/hr he costs 300 to leave the house)

Where were you born? Same place as the trailer park boys

Hobbies? Writing and making greeting cards with my nan :^)

Any pets? I have one cat, my real human daughter and her name is spooky but she goes by Spoobert Doobert in professional circumstances.

What sports do you play/have you played? Oh god like a lot of them. Soccer, Hockey, Football, Roller Derby and Rugby. I ended up needing to hang up sports for real bc of too many brain injuries but these days I still like hiking (nice and low impact with opportunities to see waterfalls)

How tall are you? 5'11

Favourite school subject? None from high school but philosophy when I got to university

Dream job? Retired.

First ship? ZuTarra

Three ships? I'm not a huge shipper honestly

Last (current) song? Nuttville by Buddy Rich (nice beginner-friendly fusion jazz)

Last movie? I watched the entirety of Devil Wears Prada in like 80 parts on TikTok the other night if that counts

Currently reading? Still working on The Rum Diary by HST (got distracted by re-reading my WIP (why can't books write themselves))

Currently watching? Pretty much just Jeopardy at this point lmao (I'm too tired to watch TV when I get home from work)

Currently consuming? Nicotine still :(

Currently craving? A double gin and tonic made with Tanqueray

Tagging: @girlscience @angrywarrior69 @mcusluttt and like anyone who wants to do it

[halimuyak]

i'm literally never here anymore but i need to get this out of my head and i need other people's input because i'm going insane and i'm just gonna copy and paste the whole formalized thing

-

Help me understand something about The Devil Wears Prada.

I’m genuinely curious to know what everyone thinks of it. I’ve gone slightly insane overthinking a movie to this degree, and deep down, I know it isn’t serious, but my thoughts about it have been Gorilla Glue’d into my cerebral cortex.

For context, I’m twenty-five and not American. The first time I watched The Devil Wears Prada was a couple of years back during the pandemic, and since then, I’ve rewatched it twice. I also think it’s worth noting I watched the movie over a decade after it premiered, and American pop culture back then had a different set of… values, I guess? —so, my opinions are somewhat removed from the context of the story. I do know the book it’s based on is fiction, but it’s partially based on Lauren Weisberger’s time as Anna Wintour’s assistant at Vogue.

That being said, as a baseline of where I was before watching The Devil Wears Prada for the first time: I was fully expecting to detest the boyfriend. I was raised on the internet (again, I’m twenty-five, a bit of an older Gen Z person, but I still consider myself a bit of a digital native), and growing up, I was bathed with Buzzfeed articles and Tumblr think pieces explaining why the boyfriend was the “real villain” of the movie and not Miranda. Naturally, I went into the movie waiting to see Andy’s boyfriend be a fuckwit to her.

I genuinely don’t think the boyfriend is even close to any sort of villain in the movie. Like I said, this is after a few rewatches because I tried to “see” this movie in different ways, thinking maybe I missed the point, misinterpreted the story, or wrongly contextualized some things. I’m completely blind to how the internet’s got the boyfriend pegged as the villain.

When we’re first introduced to Andy, she states working at Runway isn’t something she’s invested in. Her values don’t align with what Runway does or stands for as a publication, and her boyfriend feels the same way. She’s a journalist who wants to do “real” journalism. There’s nothing wrong with that. Though, my observation is she thought she was a little above caring about fashion, at least in the beginning.

But as the story progresses, Andy starts to get it. It takes her a while to get it, so much so that when she doesn’t show proper decorum during a meeting, she gets lectured and humiliated for it (Cerulean Sweater Monologue)—but she gets it. She begins to show an appreciation for fashion and fashion journalism, which she shares with her friends and boyfriend. She’s aware and somewhat accepts Runway vaguely resembles hell on Earth as a workplace, but she adapts to it and eventually succeeds (or, at least, becomes an “effective” assistant). I’m also aware there’s an undercurrent of Runway being an immensely toxic and borderline abusive workplace, especially at Miranda’s hand, and it’s accepted because of the “prestige” (holy fatphobia, Batman!), but that’s a separate topic altogether.

On a base level, there’s nothing wrong with Andy changing her thoughts and opinions toward Runway and the fashion industry. I was under the impression the through line of the movie was:

Woman who wants a “serious” job can’t find a “serious” job, so she settles for a “non-serious” job in the meantime.

Woman doesn’t take her “non-serious” job seriously because, duh.

Woman experiences an inciting incident that begets a montage of education, appreciation, and transformation, thus, she finally takes her “non-serious” job seriously.

Woman falls into the deep end of her job, and it compromises her personal relationships (“Let me know when your whole life goes up in smoke. Means it’s time for a promotion.”)

Woman realizes her job has swallowed her whole and changed her into an unlikable person. She doesn’t like this, so she abandons it to pursue her original dream.

Of course, that’s an oversimplification of the plot. There are a ton of nuances in the film: the aforementioned toxic and abusive workplace, the insincerity in the industry these people have to accept and deal with, and the awareness of all this between the characters.

Even with her “new self” and subsequent missteps, I still don’t think Andy is a hypocrite. I can’t even fault her for falling into the bad behaviors caused by the exposure to her new workplace (though I do also have an opposing thought of Andy being oddly cowardly in her actions for someone who wants to be a “serious” journalist—and also, the weird pseudo-cheating, I guess?).

There are so many “evils” in this movie, but her boyfriend is nowhere near the problem. He and her friends get upset with Andy when she ditches them to cater to Miranda. And even then, her friends showed her a decent level of understanding because being subservient to a horrendous boss isn’t a conscious choice anyone makes. But when Andy fully misses her boyfriend’s birthday celebration, all he asks for is accountability from her, and she doesn’t seem to give it to him fully. He doesn’t antagonize her; he antagonizes what her job is making her do and the person she’s becoming because of it. I don’t recall there being a moment in the movie where she has an honest conversation about how her outlook has changed, barring a few sentences said in passing toward her boyfriend and friends. Wouldn’t anyone get upset if their friend or girlfriend puts work over them without clearly communicating these changes?

And then there’s the Miranda of it all. Miranda is the villain of the movie. The actual, main, central villain. She’s a part of a self-selecting population of loathsome, miserable human beings. She’s aware of what she’s sacrificing to hold on to her title at Runway because she truly believes she’s irreplaceable, among other beliefs that hinder her from behaving in a way that allows her happiness. I could write an entire dissertation about Miranda and the movie in its entirety, but I want to focus on talking about the boyfriend lest my brain implode.

I need other people’s opinions. What am I missing? It boggles my mind he’s perceived as the villain at any point in the movie. And more importantly, I can’t believe this has taken up a significant amount of brain space that I felt compelled to write about it.

[geeoharee]

And now in ‘DVDs someone got for Christmas so we watched it while we were round at their house’, ‘Cruella’ is a fucking weird film

Like OK, you think it’s starting out with “she’s a misunderstood misfit child!” and ripping off Wicked, which is justifiable cos Wicked is great. Then there are, I cannot stress this enough, killer CGI dalmatians. There are three of them. They are owned by an evil rich woman and they kill Cruella’s mother. Cruella runs off to be an orphan thief in London (source of ripoff material changes to Oliver Twist, bad child acting abounds) and is taken in by Jasper and Horace (I had to check: yes, these are the henchmen from the movie, guess that reads)

So then there’s like twenty minutes where it’s a fun heist film and they use a trained chihuahua called Wink to steal jewels from rich people and stuff. But Cruella’s dream is to be a fashion designer, so Jasper gets her a job working for the evil rich woman who is the best fashion designer. (Yes, we’re now doing Devil Wears Prada. Just watch Devil Wears Prada instead, it’s fucking great and this film is not even an adequate ripoff of it)

Theeen something ... I forget ... Oh yeah, she finds out the evil rich woman (played by Emma Thompson, incidentally, who is at least having fun) killed her mother with the killer CGI dalmatians and did I mention a little fluffy dog has been Cruella’s only friend this whole time? It’s one dog when she’s a kid and a different one when she’s Emma Stone, obviously.

So she decides to become a rival fashion designer but in secret (apparently this whole sequence with the punk stuff and the vandalism is ripping off Joker, which I’ve not seen, but also had the same plot about ‘...but actually he’s your real dad’. Oh did I not mention? We find out later that Emma Thompson is her mother.)

And there’s this whole thing with an amulet which contains the secret knowledge that Emma Thompson is her mother, and she tries to steal it, but the dalmatian eats it, so then she kidnaps the dalmatians for a bit, here are where the jokes about sifting through dogshit go. And Emma Thompson’s evil sidekick (Mark Strong) defects, for reasons I don’t really understand. And it ends up with a big confrontation where Emma Thompson is tricked into admitting she killed Cruella’s adoptive mother in front of a load of people, so then she goes to prison, and Cruella gets all her stuff (? not sure that’s how that works)

Oh also the killer CGI dalmatians defect at this point and apparently there’s a post-credits scene where one of them has puppies and Cruella sends puppies to Roger and Anita? (Anita is her childhood friend in this one and Roger works for the fashion house) Because Cruella is psychic and knows this will kick off the plot of the animated film? I guess?!

I dunno. I just feel that if you present a film as a prequel which sets up why Cruella de Vil wants to murder a load of puppies, she should, at some point, express the desire to murder a load of puppies. There’s a fake-out where you think she turned the killer dalmatians into a coat, but she didn’t. That’s exclusively to get a picture of her in the coat they could put on the poster. It’s just very unsatisfying.

Did they just have too many people on the team? Did the ‘she’s traumatised by a dalmatian attack’ guy not meet the ‘we’re doing Wicked now’ guy? Had any of them actually SEEN ‘101 Dalmatians’? Will Disney ever stop lying about the queer content of their films? (His name’s Artie, he runs a vintage shop and helps Cruella out a couple of times, he could plausibly be a very androgynous straight man and can be effortlessly cut for the Chinese market.)

We all KNEW what Cruella’s deal was. ‘See My Vest’ is a better explanation of her motives than this film. And now I want to rewatch Devil Wears Prada.

[velvetdeer]

Hazbin Hotel Headcanons

● Alastor's little devil dolls he summons when he fights Adam are the souls of the Overlords he's killed

● Cain (Son of Adam) was killed by Adam in the 1st extermination

● If Sinner Overlords had to get their powers through a deal with a VERY powerful demon, here's who I imagine them being from:

- Alastor: Lillith (Heavily hinted at in the series)

- Vox: Lucifer (Prideful attitude, notice how Vox comments how "Lucifer's daughter" is staying with Alastor, he says it as if he knows Lucifer)

- Valentino: Asmodeus (I feel this is very self explanatory)

- Velvette: Leviathan (We see throughout the song "Respectless" that Velvette feels as if she doesn't get enough credit, a sign of envy. Plus, she's a social media influencer and fashion designer, fashion + social media = envy of the false beauty of the models)

- Rosey: Not quite sure but if I had to guess, probably Beelzebub because of gluttony.

- Husker (Pre-Alastor): Mammon (Gambling = Greed)

- Carmilla Carmine: I don't think she made any deals, she probably just rose up the ranks Mafia style

● That deer skull Overlord with the turquoise flame, I'd imagine he'd be an Overlord of restaurants and diners (because he looks like a waiter), providing supplies for/from Cannibal Town and other sections of Hell.

● Charlie's favourite movie is The Wizard of Oz, Vaggie's is Full Metal Jacket, Angel Dust is Fifty Shades of Grey, Husker's is Ocean's Eleven, Nifty's is Sound of Music, Alastor doesn't watch TV but I'd imagine would enjoy horror movies like Silence of The Lambs, Vox's is The Truman Show, Velvette is The Devil Wears Prada, Valentino's is Scarface, Adam's is School of Rock (iykyk), Lute's would be Terminator

[lonespektr]

SEPTEMBER 12TH HORROR WATCH

Calls (2021) 1x1, 1x2,

Calls drops us at the beginning of a crisis event

It's 15 min episodes told entirely through you guessed it a series of phone calls

Primary to dispatch 911

It's not tv

It's audio with limited visuals comprised of two primary things

1 the sound waves the voices make

2 animated yext on screen that sometimes mimic the emotions or actions of the word

E.x.

"I'm floating."

the word starts to float up away from the sentence

It's uh neon rainbow screensaver color scheme

Anyway cousin greg is cheating on his girlfriend being a failed artist in LA

Then there's a inhuman looking intruder

Then the cheater girl calls because her baby sitting baby isn't acting like a baby anymore

Then cousin greg thinks the cheater girl is at his place but it's not her

Same back at girlfriend who said the intruder had cousin gregs face

Then an earthquake

Then the police are overwhelmed and they ditched

Then everybody starts floating???

1x2

Another ain't shit man

He leaving his preggars girl

They agreed not be preggars apparently but ditching in the middle of the nights night ain't it

Apparently ain't shit doesn't know he's been gone for three days after a brief phone call drop

They are both condescending shits to their crying ladies

Omg he needs anger management punching doors

That was a poor writing choice

Even poorer if the line dropped briefly then how could anyone put her up to anyway

Actually poor writing choice why can't they write the passage of time without it being contrived

People keep calling and telling him it's further into the future than he thinks it is

Yea this is shitty exposition

These are apparently episode

It's not one crisis

This guy is just losing time

Oh they are married

Resistance to turning the car around

The call keeps dropping it's not like he's hanging up

Now the calls are just cutting in he's not picking up the phone

Much better concept poor execution

But i love the concept

Jeezus they are just doing a terrible job naturally marking the time

Now mom is saying this same thing happened with his dad

My Internet is dropping which makes this episode more authentic because the calls are staticky and keep dropping

The director voice actor forgot that one person was supposed to have a cough part way through

This call ending on "you're a good man" in the same the last one ended with "i live you" from the guy who was cheating

No

No they are both shitty what's with this redemption bullshit

Men get to just fucking do whatever they want and still be considered inherently good.

All of these are like the devil wears prada where anne Hathaway is being portrayed as unsympathetic when the guy is the asshole

The audacity for this show to end on her broken promise to wait for him in the driveway no matter how long he took to get back when he's been gone for twenty years

WHY THE FUCK WOULD the kud who's literally never talked to him say i love you or respond to all that speech???

This was a great concept that was so shittyl executed it's hard to express all the bad but the answer is mostly men

[raccooninthedaytime]

good evening everyone Andrea Sacks has never done a damn thing wrong in her life.

[smileysuh]

celebrated

🌙 staring. Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis.  after a long week working overseas, mingyu calls you and wonwoo to make sure you still miss him. And, because he’s the ‘breadwinner’ of the day, supposedly- he’s going to get to call more of the shots ;)

cw/ tw. 3some, phone sex, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, power play, sir (1), multiple orgasms, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k

🍭 aus. non idol, poly au, established relationship, model!Mingyu

☀️ mlist + an. this pairing is my life blood and I don't care who knows it

“We should really wait-” you suggest, as your boyfriend strips you naked with an impatient set to his jaw.

“We’ve been waiting for Mingyu for an hour-” Wonwoo insists. “I bet, if we opened up social media, we’d see he’s at the Prada Afterparty-”

“Louis Vuitton,” you correct- only to furrow your brows in confusion, “or- wait-”

It can be hard to keep tabs on all of Mingyu’s whereabouts as a top model in the industry- even after dating for a couple of months.

“Speak of the devil,” Wonwoo grins when his phone buzzes in his pocket, and a moment later, your other lover is on FaceTime.

“Did you start without me?” Mingyu asks when Wonwoo shows him your half-naked form.

“We were about to,” the elder of your boyfriends' retorts. “What took you so long to get back to your hotel room?”

“You know-” Mingyu sighs, “I had to fight off the hot girls-”

“You must be too tired to watch us fuck then,” Wonwoo quickly shuts down the teasing, knowing that after an hour of waiting for Mingyu, you’re in no mood for his egotistical bullshit.

Mingyu groans. “Stop-”

“You stop,” Wonwoo tuts, shaking his head and handing you the phone so he can get back to his task of taking off your sweatpants. “Tell us about your show.”

“I thought my reward for being a ‘working man’ was a phone call where I get to be the dom,” Mingyu pouts dramatically.

“You get to be a dom, not the dom,” Wonwoo corrects him. “Just tell us about your show. Were you modeling for Prada, or Louis Vuitton?”

You love the sly look Wonwoo gives you, the little sneer before he settles between your legs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh while Mingyu goes on a rant about Wonwoo being horrible for not remembering, because of course he’s at a Prada show-

You feel bad because it had been your mistake, not Wonwoo’s- he had known all along- in fact, he’d even said, speak of the devil, and what does the devil wear?

“Prada is in every season-” Mingyu continues while Wonwoo adjusts your thighs over his shoulders, his breath hot against your core- and the model’s annoyance dissipates at the view- “I guess I did keep you waiting for a long time…”

You smile at the fact that you can see Mingyu’s reactions, but all he can see is Wonwoo between your legs.

“Did you guys do anything while you waited?” Mingyu asks while swallowing thickly, and you take a moment to appreciate how pretty he looks-

“Tried to be patient, but I gave her my thigh till she was a moaning mess- and then we took her shirt off-”

“Then you called,” you cut Wonwoo off, shifting with impatience.

With a smile, Wonwoo repeats for the third time; “Tell us about your show.”

Mingyu groans. “It was good, I’ll send you videos tomorrow- baby?”

“Yes, Gyu?”

“Do you miss me?”

“Of course I miss you,” you coo at your lover while Wonwoo moves your panties to the side- “I think about you all the time.”

“You do?”

“Uh huh.” You close your eyes and lean back against the pillows, enjoying the feeling of Wonwoo’s tongue, as it licks a stripe of your pussy-

“She’s been whining about missing your mouth,” Wonwoo teases, pressing a sloppy kiss to your inner thigh.

“Really?” Mingyu’s tone has dipped, and there's silence on the line for a second, then; “Have you not been taking care of our girl?”

“I’ve been taking care of her very well,” Wonwoo says, reaching up and plucking the phone from your grasp.

He straightens between your legs, panning the camera shot to take in your whole body until it reaches your face- “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

“Uh huh,” you nod quickly, reaching to grab at the waistband of Wonwoo’s sweatpants-

The camera pans down and Wonwoo grins.

“What’s up, baby?” he toys, gently removing your fingers from tugging at him-

“We waited-”

“Yeah Gyu,” Wonwoo laughs; “We waited.”

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu groans.

“If you keep apologizing to me like that,” the elder of your boyfriends says smoothly, “you’ll never have control of this call.”

Wonwoo is grinning a the phone, and you know the camera’s fixed on you- so at the moment, Wonwoo is holding all the power. He can see Mingyu, he can control the view, and he’s the one calling the shots-

“Fine,” there’s a pause then, “you both waited for me because I’m a model for Prada, now be happy I’m here and not at the afterparty, because I did my best to get here- I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I’m the one being celebrated tonight for doing a runway- so you’ll do what I say.”

Wonwoo looks up at you, and gives a small nod, a smile on his lips when his gaze falls to the phone again. “What did you have in mind, Mingyu?”

“First, you’ll prop the phone up on my tripod next to the bed so I can see everything without your hand being so shaky-”

“Watch it-” Wonwoo warns, but he moves off the bed to follow through with the instruction despite the personal jab-

“That’s better,” Mingyu says when everything is set up, “but princess, we gotta get you naked.”

“I’ll get to it,” the man who joins you on the bed says with a laugh, and you sit up to accommodate the hand that slips under your back to undo the clasp of your bra.

As soon as the material is pulled away, Wonwoo has you pressed to the mattress again, his lips on your neck while he palms at your breast.

“I miss your boobs,” Mingyu’s voice cuts through the feeling of Wonwoo on top of you, and you turn your head to look at the phone.

“You see lots of boobs pre runway-” you tease, gasping when Wonwoo pinches at your nipple as if to tell you that you’re ‘toeing a line-’

Then you realize, if Mingyu is in charge tonight, and not just your usual soft switchy boyfriend, you can’t be as playful-

“None of them are yours,” Mingyu states- he obviously hadn’t seen your mistake, or the way Wonwoo quietly chastised you for it. “And how about your pretty pussy? I bet your panties are just sticking to you-”

“I’m so wet-” you confirm, “Wonwoo’s been teasing me-”

“Right- with his thigh-” Mingyu swallows thickly, “and then he got so close to giving in to you- gave you just a bit of his tongue- but he pulled away to talk to me, isn’t that right angel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He’s a sir now?” Wonwoo breathes hot against your skin as his mouth descends down your body-

“Sounds like he owes you one orgasm- or two, or three-” Mingyu trails off and you find yourself grinning down at Wonwoo, who is looking up at you with a look of realization.

You’re both ganging up on him-

When you give Wonwoo push back by yourself, you’re just a brat.

When Mingyu gives push back, he learns a thing or two about patience-

But with both you and Mingyu together? And an agreement that Mingyu gets dom power on this call?

Things have shifted more than Wonwoo had realized they would, but when his first command from Mingyu is “eat her out until she’s quaking, and then we’ll decide if she should have some more” - well, Wonwoo’s not complaining.

He strips you of your panties, settling between your legs in Mingyu’s usual spot. in the week that your lover’s been away, things have simply been busy, and Wonwoo hasn’t been able to take his time with you- hasn’t had Mingyu in the wings-

“Bet you’ve been missing this,” Wonwoo practically purrs as he pulls you towards his mouth-

Both you and Mingyu let out sounds of affirmation, and Wonwoo’s happy to know that despite any momentary power you and Mingyu had as a united little front- you’re still putty in his hands.

“He gets sloppy with you,” Wonwoo notes, “Mingyu.”

You groan, nodding and shifting your hips towards his face-

“Do you like it sloppy?” Wonwoo can’t help but grin at your movements, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before letting out a deep breath that fans across your wet heat, making you shiver.

“I like it eager,” you respond, enjoying this form of dirty talk- “Mingyu always eats me like he’s starved.”

“Does he?” Wonwoo taunts, ignoring the groan that comes from the phone. “I guess I should give that a try, huh?”

His hands spread your thighs open, and his mouth makes contact with your core, wet tongue dipping into your hole while you scramble to grab at his hair-

“Fuck- Wonwoo-” you shift your hips, closing your eyes and letting your head loll back to the mattress-

Mingyu’s voice makes you tingle when he asks; “How’s he feel?”

“So good-”

“Does he feel like me?”

“He feels-” you let out a whine when Wonwoo focuses in on your clit, and he keeps your legs open with steady hands- “I’m so-”

“Is he really that good?” Mingyu’s tone has shifted to shock, and you can’t blame him. After waiting for an hour to finally get any real action, you and Wonwoo have more pent up energy than you’d realized, and you’re eager for a release-

“I’m gonna- Gyu- please-”

Wonwoo does something Mingyu doesn’t often do while eating you out for a first course- he uses his fingers, and the feeling of two digits slipping into your wet heat has your head spinning.

“You’re cumming already?” Mingyu asks-

“Yes-”

“Then come on, pretty girl, let go for us,” your soft lover groans, making you whine even louder as you fall over the edge- “That’s it baby- fuck, you sound so pretty-”

Wonwoo does his first duty diligently; he eats you out until you’re quaking, and only then does he pull away from your core, fingers continuing to pump in and out of you, their pace drastically slowed-

“What now, Mingyu?” he asks, thumb finding your clit- “I could work another out of her really easily.”

“Do it.”

You’re taken aback at how quickly Mingyu is agreeing with his hyung- and the pressure that’s applied to your clit has your legs threatening to close around Wonwoo’s shoulders, a gasp tumbling from your lips-

“Another?” you question, looking down at Wonwoo desperately.

“Another,” he confirms, bringing his face down to your entrance again-

His mouth is better than his thumb, but it’s also so much worse- because his tongue and the suction of his lips can do things to you that a finger never could- and you’re still so sensitive from your first orgasm-

“Wonwoo-” you wiggle in his grasp, and Wonwoo lifts a hand to splay his fingers across your lower abdomen, pinning you-

“Cum for us again,” Mingyu says simply. “Come on baby, I know you can do it- who’s our good girl?”

“I am,” you whimper, grabbing at the bedsheets-

“And what’s our good girl gonna do for us?”

“I’m gonna cum!” you gasp, the knot in your stomach wound impossibly tight before releasing.

“Fuck-” Mingyu groans loudly, and the sound makes you even more delirious as waves of pleasure slam into you, aided by the man who continues his work between your legs-

“Wonwoo-” you whimper breathlessly, tangling your fingers in his hair-

He lets up, pulling his mouth away from your core while his fingers work you through your high.

It’s amazing to have two people’s attention again-

Mingyu’s not been gone on his trip for long, but even a week of his absence is felt more than you can describe-

“Did you cum too, Mingyu?” Wonwoo’s voice makes you open your eyes, and you turn to look at the phone-

“Maybe,” comes a muffled response, and you realize Mingyu’s carrying his phone- it gets set down, and then comes the sound of running water. A moment later, Mingyu is letting out a deep breath and things are settling again. “I just really miss you guys.”

“You fly back tomorrow night though,” Wonwoo says, removing his fingers from your core to lick them clean.

“Yeah, but I have schedule all day until the airport-” Mingyu groans.

“Baby,” Wonwoo looks down at you slyly, “it sounds like Mingyu’s saying he’s going to be too tired to fuck you tomorrow night when he gets back from his work trip.”

“What?” you sit up, looking towards the phone-

“I just- might be tired tomorrow is all,” Mingyu says, flopping down onto his hotel bed.

“Sleep on the plane,” Wonwoo suggests, pushing his pants down to remove his achingly hard cock-

“You guys are going to pick me up when I land, right?”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” the man rubbing his length between your folds assures his friend before slipping into you with a groan.

“Fuck-” Mingyu lets out his own sound as he adjusts his hold on his phone, watching you and Wonwoo with interest-

“It’s okay if you’re too tired-” you begin, only to cut yourself off with a whine of pleasure when Wonwoo adjusts your leg on his hip- “It’s okay if you’re too tired to fuck me when you get back home,” you assure Mingyu- “Wonwoo will- Wonwoo can fuck me really good before you come home and then we can just sleep-”

“Stop, you guys are the worst,” Mingyu groans, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he watches Wonwoo fuck you into the mattress.

“You know, I was considering switching up the position to give Gyu a better view-” Wonwoo breathes, “but if he’s going to be like this-”

“Give me the view.”

Wonwoo gives in with a laugh, and before you know it, you’re on your knees with your back to his chest while he fucks up into you from behind, your boobs on display for the third member of your trio, miles away but connected on facetime.

“Fuck- baby, you’re so pretty-” Mingyu groans, and you can tell he has his hand on his cock again, but your view only includes his face-

“She is, isn’t she?” Wonwoo’s breath is hot against your shoulder, and his fingers dig into your hips while he thrusts into you.

“Even with all the other models and pretty girls in the world,” Mingyu shakes his head, swallowing thickly, “there’s only you.”

Wonwoo laughs when your pussy squeezes him at his friend's words. “He always knows what to say to you, doesn’t he, gorgeous?”

You nod, and a moment later, Wonwoo’s digits are on your chin, prompting you to the side so you can meet his lips-

He presses into you fully, holding still while his tongue invades your mouth, and then the hand on your hip slides down to your clit-

“Wonwoo-”

“One more baby,” he tells you softly, “you can give us one more, right?”

You can- as long as it’s only one more.

After an hour of waiting, and then two back-to-back orgasms, you’re already feeling like you’ve been spread a little thin, but one more orgasm is doable of course-

“Look at Mingyu when you cum,” Wonwoo instructs, gently drawing circles on your clit while his lips press kisses to your throat. “He’s been good and patient most of the week while busy with work, so he deserves it, don’t you think?”

You nod eagerly, opening your eyes to stare at the phone, where Mingyu stares back.

Mingyu sits up, biting at his lip with interest before asking, ”You’re gonna cum for us?”

“Yes, Gyu-” you tell him, lifting your hands to your breasts while Wonwoo finds a pace behind you again. Each thrust has your boobs bouncing, and the fingers on your clit are unrelenting now-

“Then cum.” Wonwoo’s breath is hot on the nape of your neck, and it makes you shiver-

Your core tightens on your boyfriend’s length and you both let out groans of pleasure-

It’s difficult to keep your eyes open, but you watch Mingyu, listening to the sounds of both men coming undone with you- Wonwoo moves his hand from your clit to anchor your hips during his final few thrusts, and you can hear Mingyu panting-

As things come to a stop, Wonwoo lets out a deep breath and Mingyu mutters, “fuck” before he’s tossing his phone down and the screen goes black while he audibly lumbers to the bathroom.

Wonwoo chuckles against your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“It will be good to have him back tomorrow,” he says.

You agree, and the two of you get cleaned up. When you return to the bedroom and take your phone off the tripod, you find Mingyu settled under his covers, a sleepy expression on his face.

“You had a long day,” you empathize, smiling at the pretty man you call your boyfriend, “walking a runway-”

“Cumming twice,” Wonwoo adds with a grin, joining you on your bed.

“I’m tired-” Mingyu says, “but I missed you guys. Can we watch an episode of our show on Netflix together before I sleep?”

“Of course,” you respond, and Wonwoo’s already grabbing for his laptop. “And Mingyu?”

“Yeah?”

You smile, heart swelling- “Congratulations on completing your show.”

The model simply grins. “You can congratulate me tomorrow.”

✘ thanks for reading :) ✘ Please find the teaser for the accompanying patreon exclusive extension bonus of this fic below :)

Patreon bonus details :)

✘ [synopsis]: Mingyu gets home :) but he's a bit of a grump ✘ [warnings]: 3some, shower sex, fingering, size kink, orgasm control, dumbification, praise, cumplay, facial, pearl necklace, etc…  ✘ [word count]: 1.6k - 180 words shown in teaser

“I’m gross from the airport,” Mingyu insists when you pick him up at the terminal to take him home. Despite the possible germs he may have concocted while abroad, he doesn’t complain when you suggest sitting together in the back of the car while Wonwoo drives.

Your boyfriend is obviously exhausted- he hardly talks at all, simply holds you close while Wonwoo checks on the two of you every now and again through the rearview mirror.

“He needs a shower,” the elder of your lovers concludes when you’re on the way up to your apartment a short time later, and Mingyu doesn’t complain about this either.

Soon, you find yourself stripping Mingyu of his clothes while steam fills the bathroom.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask while pulling off your shirt.

The model yawns, stretching his arms over his head- and your eyes go to the band of his Calvin Kleins- fingers itching to reach out-

“I’m tired, but-” Mingyu rubs his eyes, swallowing thickly and returning his gaze to you, “but once we’re in the shower, I’ll be better.”

✘ To read the full bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here ✘ or check out what else is on my patreon in the masterlist here

✘ if you enjoyed my work, and can’t become a Patron, but would still like to support me,  please consider sending me a tip for my work through here or here :) ✘ m.list

© smileysuh — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed

general taglist:

@jjinyounf - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling - @runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae - @anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @poutypoutybin -  @thatoneidolsthiccbitch -  @vantxx95 -  @bangshii - @notbeforelong - @ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee - @binchangf - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling - @gigilame  - @cumtrov3rsy - @mocha000

svt taglist 

@romromthedeer - @strawbwebbie - @rebeccasficrecs - @alltowoo - @taestrwbrry - @jedi-nightingale - @13956789 - @greysdarling - @joonsneptune - @juliettechokilo

taglist for people who interacted with the teaser :) 

@kpoplyfe-nolife - @misssugarlips - @emificlib - @darkk-moon - @crushonwoo - @candidupped - @yeontaegu - @wonuwonslvr - @ssswwwatiny - @misssugarlips - @em--ilysm - @smhng - @jeon1woo - @prodwonsol - @gibgabgibbers - @inomhoshi - @volmainyx​ - @greedykawa​ - @svt-rouge​ - @lovely-ateez​ - @theylovevaeh​ - @my-lovely-girl-in-the-moon​ - @miyounhive​ - @wenjunhuistan​ - @gguksbitch​ - @wang-bxksu​ - @winter-s-worlds​ - @ghostlycrowncollection-76d24995​ - @lavished-in-black​ - @snowflowerd​ - @peachcheeksss​ - @lovely-carat​ - @basicluvyuta​ - @youdawonu​ - @daoyus​ - @goldenboydkk​ - @snocchie​ - @christmastodoroki​ - @woozarts​ - @daddysoonyoung​ - @kyunnieluv​ - @crushonwoo​ - @missbrainturn​ - @theunluckylistenermusician​ - @chimgukkiemonster​ - @urdreamgirl03​ - @wonwoo-smile​ - @hella-sirius​ - @yogugui​ - @greasywall​ - @lunasmess​ - @arya1604​ - @itsmeas​ - @chibismaru​ - @having-a-time​ - @kijahslove​ - @woodz-sy​ - @shudderme​ - @angelsguk​ - @coralmakerwinnerhound​ - @k-queen​ - @tvehyungs-gf​ - @jeniuswoozi​ - @johyon​ - @cheatingheartbeat​ - @cooljuni​ - @johnnysdivacup​ - @sporadiccookiebagel​ - @1800-mark​ - @sailorchiu​ - @dracosgagball​ - @sweetlyocs​ - @klumsy-kookie​ - @justvibewith​ - @wonuwonslvr​ - @sunnyteume​ - @svtup​ - @jinyoungismypapi​ - @goniesfix​ - @sevita-styles​ - @dirtyangel17​ - @taetown410​ - @solihwng​ - @noturbxby​ - @ayoitsyagirlx​ - @kpopfromtheblock​ - @awakenthisaddiction​ - @close-toyou​ - @heemine​ - @smileyjimvn​ - @bangtanforever97​ - @knucklesdeepmingi​ - @mrkis​ - @cnvs-defs​ - @rubyreduji​ - @angelbabyhyuck​ - @strawberry-artini​ - @lets-play-beemo​ - @sailorjoonies​ - @yurismine​ - @darthlunaa​ - @twililty​ - @toffeeebean​ - @poutypoutybin​ - @bangteezbaby​ 

[yeojaa]

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag.  You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.  

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash.  You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  idiots to lovers.  fluff, angst, smut.  the holy trifecta, babies!  explicit, obviously.  

tags / warnings.  mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc.  12.2k of nonsense.  pure nonsense, i tells ya. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow​ dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her.  i love you both sm!!!  ✨💜

author note.  the long-awaited fic is here!!  i really hope you enjoy it.  if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something?  i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot.  anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you!  stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker.  That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him.  It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard. 

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove.  Sometimes, she’s by herself;  often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste.  They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique.  Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be.  You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit. 

“He has no idea.”  It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts.  “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder.  How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair?  It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie. 

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”.  Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else.  Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention.  Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him.  Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face. 

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,”  she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does.  She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough.  Zero tact, though.  Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble.  You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested.  “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags.  (God, what awful taste.)  There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best.  (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction.  You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place.  Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on.  When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes.  He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW.  Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress  is.  

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect.  It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.  

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?”  He upspeaks.  It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first.  A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect.  “What’s the item and the name it’s under?”  You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine.  Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” 

You’re floored.  This is Jeon Jungkook?  This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger?  You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face.  It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers.  “I’ll grab it!  The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly.  He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends.  He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance.  It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears.  There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.  

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend?  I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.”  Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off.  “She said she was leaving on Friday.”  Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made.  “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall.  You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.  

You do feel bad.  Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this.  For hurting this stranger.  (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”  Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality.  He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip.  He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet. 

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off.  Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in.  (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.)  As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth.  “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend.  Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid.  Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours.  Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say.  Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation.  “Oh, maybe.  I’m sorry.”  The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t.  That’s a thing, right?  Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?  

God, you’re an altruist. 

“It’s fine.”  When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not.  You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word.  (You won’t.)

“Here it is!”  Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands.  If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing.  You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand.  He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying.  You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.  

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found.  Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start.  Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,”  you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands.  It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card.  The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently.  You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder.  It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum.  (You either, but still.) 

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers.  “What?”

“You know— that!”  She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago.  “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,”  you correct. 

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response.  There it is. 

“What?”  There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable. 

“What?”  It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery.  You can read every emotion that runs through her expression:  shock, displeasure, confusion.  

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth.  (She really does remind you of your little sister.)  “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder.  You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now.  There was no way he didn’t. 

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts.  That’s all.”  You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done.  You’d want to know if you were him.  Consider it an act of goodwill. 

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind.  What’s done is done.  Now he knows, or something close to it.  The chips would simply fall where they were meant to. 

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him. 

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift.  She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway.  Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding.  It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship. 

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening. 

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter.  “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression.  “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.”  You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person.  Sensible. 

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.  

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front.  You suppose it’s your responsibility now.  You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell. 

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker.  “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”  

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?”  Upspeaking again. How cute. 

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.”  You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter.  “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“  It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable.  “Thanks.  I didn’t even notice.  Um, I can come pick it up today?”  There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back.  “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out.  He truly was a sucker. 

“That’s fine.  We’re open until six tonight.”  

“I’ll be there before dinner.”  As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough.  “Before six, I mean.  Um, is around five-thirty okay?” 

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation.  Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation.  “Of course.  We’ll see you then.” 

He hangs up immediately. 

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last.  It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest.  You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon.  You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday.  Somehow, you like it more.  The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair.  It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person.  (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him.  Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.  

“O-oh.  It’s you.”  The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified.  “I m-mean, just—”  He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again.  “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.”  Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.  

“That’s right,”  you say evenly, expression neutral.  It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.  

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary.  Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room.  You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.  

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?”  He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store.  You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.  

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again.  He makes the same trip twice more.  “Can I have it?”  To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed.  He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress.  Good job, you think.

“Of course.”  You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter.  Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip.  You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything.  (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment.  Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides.  It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended.  Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact.  “May I have it, please?” 

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand.  You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable.  Is he going to say thank you?  Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems.  “Why did you do it?”  There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?”  You know what he means.  You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?”  Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you.  You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him;  it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side.  For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies.  It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his.  “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?” 

“What do you mean?”  

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror.  He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.  

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head.  It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.  

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.  

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin.  (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes.  Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.”  For once, he doesn’t sutter.  The lisp doesn’t present itself, either.  Was this the same Jungkook?  You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?”  He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name.  How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit?  It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?”  The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no.  You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly.  It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.  

“I mean like— talk talk.”  The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else.  His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.  

“Sure, we can talk talk.”  

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.  “Are you asking me on a date?”  

“W-what?  No!”  Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears.  “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding.  Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance.  He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow.  Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.  

“So, what do you want to talk about?”  It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down.  His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving.  You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie.  It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall.  “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly.  “Huh?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  

“Um—”  He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence.  There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking.  “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out.  “You want to talk about… you?”  

“That sounds bad.”  The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.  

“It’s fine.  We’ll talk at dinner.”  

He nods.  You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy.  Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.  

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?”  He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden.  Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure.  (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.”  Everything here is incredible.  You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place.  His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel.  You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish. 

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections.  Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?”  You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.  

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute.  “So?���  

“What did you want to talk about?”  If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often.  As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper. 

“Oh.”  Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth.  He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle.  You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting.  He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected.  It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline.  “What?” 

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot.  You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip.  Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.”  It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you.  You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel.  Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you.  You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable.  A little different, sure, but altogether nice.  Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake.  You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water.  “You’re welcome, I guess.”  

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not.  His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does.  (Seriously, how big are his eyes?)  You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth.  Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?”  He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.  

“What?”  You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”  

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out.  It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent.  Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.”  Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.  

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare.  “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?”  The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.  

“That’s not my name.”  The bite disappears past his teeth.  You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook.  Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do.  Juvenile in a way but enticing in another.  You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,”  he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down.  (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.)  “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation.  He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations.  He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.  

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea.  Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,”  you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.”  He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact.  “You care about people.  You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone.  You want to do what’s right.  Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words.  Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.  

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey.  He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts.  He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up.  He decorates his apartment with the most random things:  limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates.  He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years.  All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on.  (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.)  He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his).  He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,”  he insists from behind his coffee cup.  

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”  

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable. 

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.”  It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap.  It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now.  He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had.  Youngin is good for him, though.  You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips.  When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone.  “Girls are scary.”

You laugh.  Cackle, really.  You can’t help it.  He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon.  He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak.  He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says.  (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary.  Death is scary.  Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.”  He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest.  From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture;  from him, it’s patient.  “Girls aren’t scary.  Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.” 

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”  

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good.  Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags.  Like he’s living life in greyscale. 

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze.  Instead, he laughs.  “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.”  You’re adamant, insistent.  He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft.  An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.  

You want to protect him, teach him to fly.  Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.  

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes.  He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it.  He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.  

“Fine,”  he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long.  It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused.  It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days.  You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.  

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse.  If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton.  He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew).  He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it.  (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?”  It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso.  It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm. 

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him.  He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for.  To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings.  “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.  

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is. 

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence?  (You wish you were joking.)  It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.  

“This one?”  He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face.  Medium-weight cashmere.  Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist.  It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,”  you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels.  “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law.  You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.”  He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.  

Your response is a shrug.  “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.”  You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates.  You know there’ll be something good on the menu.  

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist.  You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him.  Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink.  Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.  

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch.  That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other.  “Hey!  You’re leaving already?”  It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone.  It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes.  For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes.  “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.”  A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh?  Well, that’s certainly something new.  Good for him, you think. 

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.”  It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words.  “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her.  Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes).  Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date.  It’s a big deal. 

“Yeah—“  Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky.  “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother.  “Go get ‘em, tiger.”  

“I will,”  he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.  

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place.  It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look.  “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”  

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?  

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever).  It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you.  He’s going on a second date, after all.  Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant.  You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine.  Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine.  The two of you are friends.  You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come.  Baby boy was growing up. 

“Y’know.”  You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment.  It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?”  He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.  

You wiggle your hand dismissively.  “Second date and all that.”  

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on.  It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots.  “Just stick around.  I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him.  “Fine.  I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door.  “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,”  you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake.  It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook.  This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook:  Hey. from jeon jungkook:  I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook:  If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook:  Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date.  It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing.  (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook:  i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops.  Of course.  He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions.  (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook:  it’s fine!  have fun! to jeon jungkook:  turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up.  Good, you think.  About time he finds someone nice.  You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.  

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact.  He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic. 

“I want you to meet her,”  he mumbles, like that makes it better.  As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”  He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over.  (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.)  You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.”  But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is.  Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately.  “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that.  No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman.  It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set.  Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise.  It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch.  (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)  

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.”  His vague response speaks volumes.  The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery.  When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway.  “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!”  Of course.  It’s obvious.  She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that.  (He is.)  “I’m not coming to dinner.”  

“You’re already in the car,”  he reasons.  

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve.  Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.”  When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him.  Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal.  Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,”  he repeats, almost pleading.  You can’t look at him.  You won’t.  The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause. 

“Fine.”  You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off.  You’re not actually mad.  Just worried.  You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand.  It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person.  You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that.  Should, anyway.  You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.  

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it.  He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line.  (Truthfully, it’s your fault.  All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by.  You’ve got a reputation to uphold. 

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat?  How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer:  you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.  

“What’re you doing here?”  At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness.  Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really).  “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge.  It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired.  So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance.  He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin.  You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.  

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)  

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day.  “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,”  the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well.  Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,”  you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold.  You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else.  If you had to guess, it’s her perfume.  It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses.  You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.  

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter.  You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare.  “So?”

“W-what?”  

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning.  Something’s happened.  Must have.  There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?”  You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him.  He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.  

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression.  He’s stalling, you can tell.  You hate when he does this.  You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small.  “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced.  What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges.  You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual.  Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned.  (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.  

“So.”  You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves.  You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest.  He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs.  Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.”  The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said.  Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.  

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look.  It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?”  It explodes out, a question that demands an answer. 

He’s staring past your head, unblinking.  You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp.  “I c-couldn’t.  It was just…”  The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”  

“Just—”  There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot.  He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise.  He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket.  “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean?  Feel right?  

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete.  It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down.  Didn’t he understand that?  Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.  

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’”  You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window.  “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately.  He doesn’t. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” 

“You like her, right?”  

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out.  Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there.  “So, you like her.”  It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way;  you don’t mean it in any way but supportive.  You just want him to be happy.  “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”  

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer.  But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise.  Hope, maybe?  Fear?   

“What?”  You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight.  He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer.  (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”  

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest.  His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair.  He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer.  Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,”  he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.”  It’s cruel.  “You’re making a bad choice.  You’re into this girl.  Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements.  “I’m not dumb.”  There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask.  It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.  

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.  

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay.  Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question.  You can’t blame her.  You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.  

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.  

“What?”  It’s less snark, more sigh.  You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.  

“What’s going on with you?”  

“Nothing.”  

“Bullshit,”  she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter.  “You’ve been in a bad mood all week.  I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.”  She’s right, of course.  You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what.  “Did something happen?”  

You grit your teeth.  An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,”  she tries again, concerned.  

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!”  She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly.  “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough.  So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right.  It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload.  (Maybe it’d be helpful.  Probably.  But you’ve never found comfort in other people.  At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.”  Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on.  “It’s fine.  Really.”  You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile.  “I just need to get some sleep.”  And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.  

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action.  It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.”  You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater.  He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,”  he mutters, refusing to meet your stare.  At least, you think he’s refusing.  It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.  

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes.  It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away.  It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?”  You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated.  He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding.  “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.”  This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him.  He hums a noise but offers nothing further.  

This is how it’ll be then.  Fine.  If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go.  He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth.  “I—  I don’t—  I didn’t say that.” 

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.  

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now.  Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.  

“W-what?”

“Tell me.”  You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round.  “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters.  What have I got that she doesn’t?”  

“You’re serious?”  

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.  You think he might say no, outright refuse.  You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.  

“You’re funny.  You’re honest.  You speak your mind.”  You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people.  He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him.  “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t.  You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”  

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen.  As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.  

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.”  He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again.  “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”  

There’s something thick in your throat.  

“You make me want to try.”  He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it.  “Y-you make things not so scary.”  

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you.  He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself.  You make me laugh.”  He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.”  You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit.  Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.  

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs.  Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words.  They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism.  “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention.  “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here.  Just a chance.”  He’s got a peculiar look on his face.  “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?” 

All of a sudden, he’s close.  Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be.  There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down.  The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.  

“You kind of ruined my life.  I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense.  You’d ruined his life?  (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.)  You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.  

“I’m kidding.”  

It feels like whiplash.  You’ve created a monster.  

“But you do owe me, I think.  So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing.  He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams. 

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out.  He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed.  He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money.  He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.  

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him).  If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either.  Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge.  He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,”  he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you.  You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom.  “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff.  It’s adorable.  

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends.  You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head.  You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.  

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.  

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups.  Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.  

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together.  Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects.  Surely there’s more to this.  Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?”  You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.  

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”  

“A playsuit?”  You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in.  Would it even fit?  Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns.  “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected.  Or at least, you think it does.  If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim. 

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal.  He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,”  he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds.  The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs.  He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick.  “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.  

“Use your words, gorgeous.”  As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck.  He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”  

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob.  Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh.  He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be.  The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.  

“You like this, don’t you?”  His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy.  “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,”  you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts.  The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin.  Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.  

“Good girl.”  Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips.  You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall.  Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips.  “Such a good girl for me.  My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she?  Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard.  Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate.  It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest.  Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it.  Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear.  You know he’ll catch you.  “I want you.”  

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same.  Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.  

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm.  The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,”  he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer.  Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am.  I am.  I am,”  you chant, tears welling along your lash line.  They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.  

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you.  It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you. 

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much.  Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings​ @veronawrites​ @notmontae97​ @papillonsgf​ i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

[leedongwooksphiltrum]

Bosswook (NSFW)

If anyone happens to actually stumble upon this it’s a very very very very VERY NSFW imagine about Lee Dongwook being your boss lmaoooo anyways if you have found this please note: trigger warnings for extremely rough (but consensual) sex involving BDSM.

[Bosswook]

“Y/N.”

The sound of my name made me jump, especially in his voice. That deep, commanding voice. He rarely spoke to me, but when he did, it was never in a nice way. I turned around in my chair.

“Yes, boss?”

I subdued a smirk, knowing he hated when I called him that. It was my own secret way of putting him in his place for being such a hardass.

“Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you?” He was walking towards me, holding the coffee I’d ordered for him just half an hour prior. He loomed over my small desk in the corner of the office and took the lid off the cup. He held it under my nose. “Taste it.”

“Excuse me?”

He held it closer to my lips. “You heard me.”

With one hand I grabbed the cup to steady it and then took a small sip. Disgusting. It’s weird that such a straight-laced guy likes his coffee so sweet.

“And?” was my bold reply.

He bent down to my eye level, his face inches from mine. With a glare, he took the coffee from me and threw the whole thing into the trash. He straightened back up to his full height, his eyes boring into mine, unhappy. 

“Two Splendas,” he said, straight-faced. “Two. Not one, but two. How hard is it? How long have you worked here now?”

I shrugged. “Three months?”

His stony face almost looked like it was about to crack a smile, but he stopped himself. Better not reveal a single emotion I guess. “Three months,” he repeated softly. “You’d think that was enough time for you to be whipped into shape.”

“I guess I’ll need more training,” was my reply. I looked up at him with innocent eyes.

The frown stayed plastered on his face. “Don’t count on it. Your probationary review is tonight, and I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say. Don’t be late.” He tapped his expensive Gucci watch and then turned around, storming back to his office.

I watched him as he walked away. God, he was so fine. Sure, he was an absolute dick, but it was almost worth it just to see Lee Dongwook in his suit and tie every day. I remembered when my cousin, who also used to work there, told me about the job. I’d felt like Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada. 

“Just work six months for him, and it will open so many doors,” my cousin had promised. Since he was now working as an executive at another branch of the same company, I felt inclined to agree. Running around for coffees and taking memos for the world’s biggest asshole wasn’t my ideal career choice, but it wouldn’t be much longer. If I pass that review… maybe I need to control my sass a bit.

I kept my eyes glued on him as he accosted another employee and berated them about something. So angry, so wound up. Everyone was afraid of the boss. Sure he was intimidating, with his expensive clothes, his immaculately gelled hair that never moved an inch, and those intense brown eyes that held me in place when he talked to me. 

But I couldn’t help but notice the shape of his lips, plump and almost cherry-red. If ever caught him biting one I had to hurry to the water cooler and take a huge gulp. It wasn’t fair that such a wet blanket had angelic lips like that. Lips that were parched of someone else’s touch on them. Someone like… me.

The phone rang and I answered it wearily. “Lee Dongwook’s office, Y/N speaking.” 

I carried on the conversation. “A meeting? Um, let me see…” I put the caller on hold and checked his calendar. “Actually, tonight he’s busy, he has…oh.” I was surprised to see my own name in the Google calendar. Did I schedule this? “Maybe another day… Friday the 16th at 4pm? Okay, that’s doable. Thank you.”

My performance review was at 8:30pm that night, which I found strange since the office closed at 8. I shuddered. He probably wants to yell at me and doesn’t want anyone around to hear it. I sighed, trying to imagine where I might be able to find a job if he actually did fire me. Had I really done that badly? Was messing up his coffee order such a sin? I worked hard otherwise… scheduling his day, taking his calls… fuck, I even cleaned his office sometimes if he didn’t think the cleaning crew did a good enough job. He can’t let me go. He needs me here.

**(Later)**

“Goodnight Y/N, see you tomorrow,” one of my coworkers called. 

I waved distractedly, knowing the time had almost arrived. Everyone was so exhausted after each day under the iron fist of Mr. Lee that they rushed off as soon as the clock ticked to 8:00. I usually did too, but this time, I had to wait. I gulped and looked at his closed office door.

I knew the cleaning crew didn’t start until 10:00pm. He had planned this well… a whole window of time for us to be completely alone where he could scream his head off at me and fire me without a single witness to the tyranny. I scrolled through Instagram to pass the time. 8:10. 8:20. 8:25.

Everyone was gone now. At 8:29 I got up and stood in front of the solid oak door. The gold-embossed Lee Dongwook, CEO painted on it made me shiver. I waited until the hands on the clock perfectly lined up for 8:30. Dongwook was precise… maybe being on time would win me some points. I knocked.

“Come in,” was his serious-toned response. I opened the door myself.

He was at his desk, as usual. “Sit down.” He gestured vaguely at the hard-backed chair opposite his own, which was of course plush and comfortable. The lights were off except for the desk lamp, and the moonlight that shone in from the evening sky. He didn’t look up from the single piece of paper in his hand, which I assumed was full of notes for my review. I cringed as I saw that there was an abundance of red pen.

“Thank you for meeting with me boss,” I began, staring at his CEO nameplate.

He sighed and put the paper down, his eyes finally looking up into mine. They were cloudy and dark. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. This is exactly what we need to talk about.”

I noticed his blazer was hanging on the coat tree next to his desk. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up to the elbows, exposing his muscular forearms that were covered in constellations of moles. I’d never seen them before. Distractedly I asked, “What do you mean?”

He used one hand to straighten his tie and then put the same hand palm-down on the desk. The other hand picked up the paper, which he read aloud from. 

“Y/N Y/LN: Does not address CEO Lee according to instructions.” He narrowed his eyes and looked into mine. “Sir, CEO Lee, or Mr. Lee, in case you forgot. Not ‘boss.’” 

He turned his eyes back to the notes. “Continuously late for work in the morning with the excuse of a late train.” He almost smirked. “This is Korea, Y/N. Trains are never late.” 

He continued, “Flippant attitude with her superior. Unprofessional on the phone. Almost always gets the coffee order wrong despite being told since day one how CEO Lee likes it.”

I listened as he read off my faults point by point. Some of them were ridiculous… ONE TIME I had double-booked him for a meeting, and it was in my first week on the job! And of course it wasn’t my fault that the store was closed for a family emergency when he’d asked me to go get his watch repaired. As if I was the one who put the owner’s mother in the hospital. He’s such an asshole.

“And finally…” He peered over the desk at my outfit: a modest white button-up blouse and a pencil skirt that I had thought was business-casual. “Inappropriate clothing for the office, consistently.” He ran a hand through his short dark hair. He needed a trim, I noticed. I made a mental note to book him an appointment, and then suddenly wondered why, since I was about to be fired.

“Well Y/N, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, boss,” I said pointedly, emphasizing the last word. “I thought this was a review, not a roast. Isn’t there anything I’ve done well here?”

Lee Dongwook’s expression looked like it wanted to change, but he kept his pouty frown on his face for posterity. “So you want to know what you’ve done well?” He looked up at the ceiling. “God, this is embarrassing for you, Y/N.” He slammed his hand down on the table, making me jump. 

“I was doing [cousin’s name] a favor by hiring you, you know. He promised you’d be a good worker and I thought I could trust his judgement. But here you are asking me what you’ve done well?” He finally broke, a smirk growing on his face. Sarcastically he asked me, “Should I give you a gold star too? Employee of the month? Do you want your pretty face out there on the wall with a certificate with your name on it?”

I heard every word, but only one stuck out at me. Recklessly I asked, with a smirk of my own, “You think I’m pretty?”

He pushed himself away from the desk using both hands and then stood. I could see the glint in his eyes even in the semi-darkness. He bent over the desk. “It’s the only use you have around here, Y/N.”

I laughed in spite of myself. If I was going to be fired, then to hell with it. “Then you don’t actually care about your stupid coffee and your dust-free office then, do you boss?”

Dongwook walked slowly around the side of the desk until he was in front of me, eyes glued to my face. He put one hand down and smirked again. “Stand up,” he said, in a low voice.

“Why?”

He bit his lip. God, that does it every time. “Because I told you to.” 

I did anyway, intrigued. This was the most words we had ever exchanged that didn’t have to do with meetings or stocks or something else boring. I had to get the most out of it before I was thrown out of the enterprise forever.

He let his gaze drape shamelessly over my form and then bit his lip, eyes on mine. He reached out with his long fingers and touched my mouth. “Pretty,” he told me. “But only when it’s closed.”

“Excuse me?” Who does he think he is?

He laughed. “Never says the right things,” he said by way of explanation. “But I won’t tolerate a back talking employee. I didn’t become CEO of this company by bending over backwards.” He grinned at that. “So the question is this: do I wait for you to finally say ‘yes, sir’?” He put his thumb inside my mouth. “Or just shut you up myself?”

I rolled my eyes, spitting his finger out of my way. “I don’t care how many companies you own, Lee Dongwook. You’ll never, ever hear me call you sir.”

“Then there’s no point in you speaking at all,” he replied. 

In a flash he was loosening his tie, a wicked grin forming on his usually emotionless face. I bit my lip, wondering just how far he wanted to take this. He’s really angry, but… I’m into it.

Once he got his tie off he grabbed me by the waist and turned me around. I could feel him slip it over my head then pull it tightly so it rested between my teeth. He tied it around the back of my head and then turned me back around, admiring his handiwork. I couldn’t speak a word, which felt kind of… hot. No one will hear me yell… was this the plan all along?

“Much better,” he growled. He put one hand on me, letting it slowly slide down from my neck to my collarbone. It was there there he unbuttoned the top of my blouse and took a look at me, his eyes hungry. “God, you really are beautiful. What a shame.” 

He kept going until my shirt was all the way off. He tossed it aside and began to leave rough, wet kisses on my neck. I couldn’t say anything, but I could make sounds, and he started laughing when I let them out.

“Y/N,” he tsked. He continued to kiss me everywhere but my mouth while letting his strong hands wander my back and hips. “You’re such a whore, aren’t you?”

He pushed me against his office door. I could feel that he was hard as he pressed himself against me, pinning me there with his muscular chest. He kissed my ear sloppily, whispering, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me since day one.” His hand was inside my bra now, toying with the sensitive flesh. “Admit it. You thought about fucking me. About having your way with the CEO.”

“Mmph,” was all I could reply. Of course I’d thought about it, if only to bring a semblance of human emotion to the robotic, workaholic dickhead. But I never pictured him in control. He already had that in every part of his life. Clearly, it wasn’t something he was going to give up.

“You’re going to pay for being a mouthy little girl,” he whispered.

I reached out to him, trying to unbutton his shirt like he did mine, but he slapped my hand away. He pointed a finger in my face. “No. You don’t touch me.”

“Mmph,” I protested, trying to show the displeasure in my face without the use of my words. Where is the fun in that?

“Just to make sure,” he murmured. He reached down and unbuckled his belt, sliding it quickly out of the loops on his dress pants. I hitched a breath… what was he going to do now?

Dongwook wrapped it around my wrists, cinching them together with the buckle. He smiled in satisfaction. “Much better.”

I used my teeth to grapple with the tie in my mouth and then finally spit it out enough to speak. “I’m still not calling you sir,” I told him, looking straight into his eyes. “You’d have to kill me for it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he whispered into my ear. Somehow, even his threat sounded like a caress, coming from lips like his.

He cupped his strong hand around my jaw, forcing me to keep my eyes on him. “Since you’re so determined to open that pretty mouth of yours, Y/N, let’s put it to good use.” He took the tie off of my neck and tossed it aside. I knew where he was going with this, but I wasn’t about to give in easily.

Dongwook slowly unbuttoned his pants, a manic grin on his face the whole time. He put one hand on the wall beside my head to steady himself and pulled out his dick, which was massive and straining even against his own large hand. It was already dripping with precum. Against my own better judgement I licked my lips, which sent him into a frenzy.

“Down,” he told me. I dropped to my knees, eager for a taste of it. I looked up at him, and he was grinning down on me. The expression was not one of a lover though, but… a sadist. He wanted to hurt me. I want to let him.

“One last chance,” he said. “Call me sir, and I may even let you keep your job.”

I shook my head. “Never.”

“Then be quiet.” He came closer and I opened my mouth, already knowing what was next. 

It was difficult to take all of him without choking, but I was trying, my eyes watering as he pushed it further down my throat. I managed to get a motion going, nearly impossible with my hands bound and nothing to grab onto. Through my tears I could see he liked what I was doing, but he wasn’t moaning at all. He just kept talking out loud.

“Y/N, the office slut,” he was saying, clenching his teeth to avoid showing the pleasure he surely felt. “Should I keep her around just to see her in that skirt every day? I think I’d like that.” He looked down at me and tsked. “Then again, she can’t do anything right.”

I stopped sucking him and spit on the floor of his office. “If you don’t like what I’m doing, then you can just fuck your hand, boss,” I told him. I rose to my feet. “Take this off me, I’m going home. Good luck finding a new assistant.”

Instead of freeing me from the restraint, he used his thumb to wipe the drool off my face and then stuck it into my mouth. “I know you don’t really want to leave,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I protested. 

He laughed. His arms wrapped around my waist, one hand unzipping my skirt from the back. It pooled at my feet, leaving me just in underwear. 

“Because you find me attractive,” was his simple answer. He put one hand inside my panties, finding me wet. “Obviously.”

I moaned in spite of myself. “So what?” I managed to say. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a huge asshole.”

“Mmhmm.” He was tracing circles with his finger, his lips on my neck again. “Of course I am. Do you think I got to where I am now by being soft?” He pressed down on my sweet spot, making me moan right into his ear.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t need this job,” he said. “I told you I didn’t get here by bending over backwards. But you can.” He leaned forward and snagged my lip with his teeth, drawing me into a forceful kiss. 

Despite how I hated the way he was talking to me, I had to admit that biology had taken over. Every part of my body was screaming for him to take me. And if he fires me anyway? Well, at least I’ll go out with a bang.

I let him continue to kiss me, his tongue roaming my mouth, filling me with heat. My insides were pleading for him to enter me, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of audibly begging for it.

I shook my hands against the restraint of the belt. “At least let me see you,” I asked, gesturing towards the shirt he still had on.

Surprisingly, he did so, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it onto the floor. He got himself completely naked in seconds and then grabbed me and pushed me down against the desk. I took in his sharp pectoral muscles, his generous thighs, his perfect V-line, that little trail of hair from his belly button to the space between his hips. He’s incredible.

He caught me staring and grinned. “That’s the last favor you get,” he said in a low, quiet voice. “Now bend over for me.”

I did as I was told, face down in a pile of papers. I could feel him removing the last of my clothing and teasing me with one finger, and then two. Still, no begging. I wouldn’t do it. Never.

“Why won’t you call me sir?” he asked, almost whining. I sputtered out a laugh at the request, which was a mistake. I was suddenly swatted on my ass with an open palm, hard enough to leave an instant red mark.

“Ow!” I accidentally choked out.

He laughed. “Too much for you, Y/N? You wouldn’t have lasted six months here, that’s for sure.” He braced himself against me, brushing my entrance with his hard cock. “This can all be over, you know. Say the words. I’ll spare you, I promise.”

“Do your worst,” I spat back.

He responded by giving me another hard slap, this time on the other side. I didn’t make a sound. He was obviously taken aback by this and did it several more times, each time more painful than the last. I practically bit my tongue in half to prevent myself from crying out. No. Never. I’ll never do a thing he says.

Dongwook took a different approach. I could hear him behind me. I looked back, and he was crouched down. He dragged his tongue from my dripping wet opening all the way up my back, where he continued along my spine to the skin between my shoulder blades. Once there, he planted an uncharacteristically gentle kiss, before grabbing my hair and yanking it backwards.

“Fine,” he growled into my ear. “Are you choosing to shut up for once? Is that it? You really won’t say it?”

“Nope,” I said back, grinning. “Guess you’d better punish me for it, boss.”

Angrily Dongwook positioned himself against the back of me before slamming inside me in one quick thrust. I bit my lip to keep from screaming. He was huge, I hadn’t expected it. But somehow pain and pleasure were one, and I left him fuck me madly, his grip on my hips sure to leave bruises. 

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, panting. “Fuck.” He swore and spit on my back. “You’re so good at taking my cock, Y/N. I should promote you just for this.”

I refrained from saying anything, focusing on taking each thrust. I couldn’t brace myself because my hands were still bound by his belt, so I could feel every inch of him as he moved in and out. I had to hand it to him; for an uptight asshole he could sure let himself get wild.

“I’m close,” he said suddenly, and pulled out. I gasped at the sensation of having been emptied so abruptly. 

He yanked me by my arms and had me kneel in front of him. He looked into my wide eyes. “Finish me off.”

“And me?” I asked with a frown.

He cupped my chin almost lovingly, and then gave me a light slap on my cheek. “I don’t care about you,” he responded. “But maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you come. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want to moan for me?”

“Don’t take your chances,” I told him. 

I took him into my mouth and watched him. His eyes closed and he let his hands run through my hair. He still didn’t moan, but he was muttering incoherently under his breath. Close enough.

I worked him with my lips and tongue until I thought I’d go blind from the tears. Finally, with a breathy utterance of “Fuck,” he released into my mouth. I took every drop, letting it fill my throat. It was hot and delicious, exactly what I’d expected from him.

“Mmm, very good,” he said with a grin. He brought me to my feet. “Did you take it all?”

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. He touched his to mine and smiled. “You finally did something right.” He sat down in the hard chair that I had been in.

I was still unsatisfied, having done everything for him with only mounting anticipation in return. I nudged him with my knee. “Dongwook.”

He raised his eyebrow. “What?”

“You know what.”

He sighed. “Sit down on the desk.”

I did what he asked and he put his muscular arms on my thighs, spreading them open. I couldn’t help myself… I opened my mouth and let all of the pleasured sounds come out. He was an expert with his tongue, toying with me one second while devouring me the next. He let his teeth graze my lips and sucked on the sensitive skin. I clutched his dark hair, finally messed up from the ultra-hold product. What would the other employees think of him now?

“I’m almost there,” I encouraged him. I shouldn’t have. He laughed and pulled away, his face glistening.

“What the fuck!” was my angry response.

He grinned. “I told you, if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you come.” He winked at me. “But you haven’t said the magic words yet, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” I told him, but my body was screaming at me to reconsider. I was on the edge of my orgasm, and it had been so long. I needed to release, and what better time than now?

My boss was staring at me, an amused grin on his face. “And here I thought you wanted to move up in this company. You won’t even get a recommendation letter from me at this rate.”

I grimaced and mumbled, “Yessir.”

“Excuse me?” His eyes brightened. “Say it again.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned forward so I could say it right against those full red lips of his. “Yes sir,” I spat pointedly. I nipped at his lip, causing him to laugh.

“Good enough,” he said with a satisfied grin. He returned to his place between my thighs and I was seeing stars. When I finally came, I slid off the desk, collapsing in a heap at his feet.

He helped me up and pulled me onto his lap. Surprisingly, he gave me a sweet kiss, without malice.

“What was that for?” I asked, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

He smiled. “Come on Y/N, what’s the first rule of a dom?”

“Be a huge dick?”

Dongwook laughed. “No.” He kissed me again. “Aftercare. It’s all part of the process.”

I was confused. “So wait… are you telling me you’re just an asshole to everyone because you’re a dom?”

“No, no,” he corrected me quickly. He pinched my cheek. “I AM an asshole. I’m just also very dominant.” He ran his hand up the outside of my thigh and let it rest on my waist.

I rolled my eyes again. “Whatever. The only care I have is for my job. Do I still have one?” I moved to stand up, but he kept me in his strong arms. I relented and nestled into his warm chest. He's still in command, even if he's let his blood cool down.

“That depends. Are you going to start following the rules?”

I looked into his eyes and grinned. “Fuck no, boss.”

He traced my lips with his thumb and kissed me. “Then of course you have a job,” he told me. “Because you still need to be whipped into shape. And who begter to train you than me?"

“I don’t think there’s room in your schedule for that,” I reminded him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, make some then. That’s your real job.” He grinned. “You’d better get used to being on your feet though. When I’m finished with you, you won’t be able to sit down.”

[emperor-of-blood]

How do you assign characters classpects? Like what do you look for for each class/aspect etc?

In general I take a look at the character’s overall story and their character defining traits and moments. Usually I end up on their wiki or looks through clips on youtube to refresh/familiarize myself. Classpects in general are sort of a personality test, but also a fate/destiny sort of thing. 

For example: Dave being a Knight of Time. He’s resourceful which goes into him being able to exploit his aspect and he’s very conflict... oriented, I guess, which goes into his aspect. But the Beta kids’ session lasting only 2 days as opposed to the month they would normally have? It’s a consequence of his classpect. Knights exist in sessions where their aspect is in short supply, and they exploit that small amount to get the most out of what they’ve got.

An example of my process, let’s go for the Cowardly Lion I just did. I found potential key parts of the Bard of Heart classpect and tried thinking of characters which might fit that mold. Then I compare the rest of the classpect to the character to see if they fit in. The lion isn’t really calculating per say, but the part at the end where he gets his medal from the wizard he specifically calls him wise for running away. It’s a short movie so there wasn’t a ton to go off of but I watched a few clips, checked out the wiki briefly, and just compared to the vague example I came up with. 

It’s not a perfect system but neither is classpecting. I’m sure I could argue him being a... void player maybe; or someone else who is more familiar with the Wizard Of Oz material could bring up a bunch of points to narrow this down a lot more.

The hardest part is when I have no idea what piece of media they’re actually talking about. Like, the oldest ask I have right now is someone who asked for  Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada. I’ve tried to find the movie a number of times but I just haven’t had any luck. If it was someone at least generally well known I could probably figure something out but for something that specific it would be a complete bs answer. Like I have an ask for Godzilla right now, which even though I’ve never seen a Godzilla movie I know who Godzilla is. I’ll probably look up some clips but I don’t really know what I’m expecting to find that would make me lean one way or another.

[outofsstyles]

WILDEST DREAMS

a/n: soo I’ve been working on this for a little while now and I’m very excited to share it with you al!! This piece is inspired by Taylor Swift’s music video for her song Wildest Dreams. If you’ve never seen the video, or don’t remember it really well, I recommend you watch it *after* reading the story so you don’t get it spoiled! If you’re interested then you can watch it by clicking *right here!!*

Word count:  17.2k                     Rated: M, mature           

You agree to help your friend on her film project and Harry is playing your love interest.

“You’ve been frowning a lot and haven’t said a single word in the past five minutes, what’s wrong?” You looked up to your quiet roommate sitting opposite to where you stood near the kitchen counter. 

A playlist you both had made months ago, meant only for cooking days, as Nia had instructed, played faintly in the background. You hummed along to the melody of a song you didn’t really know the name of, but had listened to it enough to mumble the lyrics, as you focused on cutting banana slices.

Nia was the one who brought up trying out a new fruit smoothie recipe she had found while scrolling around on Pinterest. She was pretty excited after coming home with the groceries, ready to start the process. Which is why seeing her sitting quietly as she glared at her phone was a big sign that something was wrong.

“I think Jordan is about to pull out on us,” she groaned loudly, locking her phone and throwing it on the counter, running her hands on her face, “I can’t believe this is happening a week before filming starts.”

“Oh, that’s not good news” you said, looking back at your friend’s defeated state in front of you as you threw the banana slices into the blender. “What happened?”

“He said he decided to go with his cousin to Ibiza.” Her arms muffled her voice as she lied on top of them, sighing once again, “this is the third one that leaves, I might as well just cancel the entire thing and fail this class.”

You rolled your eyes lightly at her, shaking your head as you listened to her dramatic reactions. Being her friend for as long as you have, you knew how stressed Nia got with a project, specially something she was passionate about. She was always too hard on herself, trying to push everything to be as perfect as possible, which is a good thing when you focused on the ultimate results. But she often tended to over-stress herself, and that’s what makes you worry.

With this one in particular, you could tell how excited she was from the day her teacher assigned it. She came back home and rambled for hours on end about making her first film. Which is why when she begged you to be part of it, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to say no. 

It was a small production after all, it just being Nia and her partner Evan, whom you have known had gotten close to her in the past months. She assured it would a rather simple concept, with only two characters. The trickiest part being the fact that they would film it out of town, in a camp house that belonged to Nia’s aunt. You had agreed to it to make her happy, and with her promise of buying you chocolate muffins. Most uni students, however, didn’t seem as keen to sacrifice a week of their spring break as you were.

“You’re being dramatic Nia,” you reassured, turning on the blender and cringing at the loud noise that took over the place. “Maybe they just read on the script that they would have to kiss me a couple of times and got too nervous about it,” you tried to humor, raising your voice a bit before turning the processor off. Nia looked back at you with a serious expression, making you scoff, “calm down, grumpy pants, I’m sure Evan knows someone who can do the role, stop worrying.”

“All I do is worry, you know that,” she sighed, standing up to walk towards the cabinets behind you. She selected two matching cups that she had gotten for your birthday, one had Elsa printed on it, and the other Anna. You smiled as she placed them on the counter, knowing you always thought matching friendship objects were silly, but Nia loved it, so you loved it too. She looked vaguely at the blender, letting her shoulder weight down.   “At least we have a banana smoothie.”

“And something else!” You said, jumping on your feet to get to the fridge and retrieved a tupperware. You held it in her direction and smiled, “leftover spaghetti from Joe’s!” you exclaimed, attempting to brighten her mood. She looked back at you, grabbing the container from your hands, as she tried to fight back a smile.

“Yes,  how could I forget the leftover spaghetti?”

**

As the days passed by, the both of you had gotten more stressed out. Nia was still worried about everything related to her film project. With the days passing by and no one to fill the other role on the script, she found herself on a daily cycle of stress breakdowns. 

Just two days after your former cast partner dropped out on the project to spend his week on the busy beaches of Ibiza, she had bought three different boxes of hair dyes. And as you helped her turn her hair into a light shade of pink, she cried about how everything seemed to go wrong in her life.

Meanwhile, you had been struggling to fight your procrastination tendencies and try to finish as much work as possible before spring break. A task that was showing itself to be extremely difficult, considering your mind seemed more focused on binge watching true crime shows on YouTube. 

The blank document stared back at you from your computer screen, as you wished that if you looked at it for long enough, the essay would somehow write itself. Writing a couple of words but soon deleting them and going back to an empty page, you signed. Why was it so difficult to introduce a topic? You took a sip of the hot drink on the sparkly Cinderella mug you had chosen for the day, another one of Nia’s Disney-related possessions. 

You frowned at the blank document, your failure to write a single paragraph still open in front of you. You heard a light knock on your bedroom door, but before you could even say anything, you spotted the already fading pink hair coming into the room. 

Nia walked in jumping excitedly, saying your name in little squeals and almost tripping down as she made her way to sit on your bed in front of you. Breathing out, she looked at you with a big smile and messy hair before blurting out.

“We’ve got you a husband!” you stared back at her, arching your eyebrows. You knew she was referring to the role on the film, but you still laughed off at her choice of phrasing. “Evan got someone, it’s like his old friend or something, said he trusts him not to drop out.”

“Well, fourth time’s a charm, I guess?” you smiled at her. 

“We’re planning a pizza night this Friday, so we can, you know, set the details and all that.” She properly lied down next to you, playing with the strings on the hem of your pajama shorts. “Also so you two can meet each other, of course, you’re going to be married for a week after all.”

“The way you say it seems like we’re actually doing it,”  You laughed, finally closing your computer, and moving down to face her. “We’re just playing characters, Nia.”

“I know, I know… You’re really no fun, aren’t you?” She moved her arm up to support her head and poked you with her free hand as you rolled your eyes at her. “Also, he seems pretty cute, Evan showed me his picture, maybe you two can hit off.”

“I’m sure he is,” you tried not to fall for her attempt on teasing you over someone you don’t even know. Sure, you’ll be playing love interests, but you’ve done this plenty of times before, back on your theatre days. Kissing someone on stage doesn’t mean you have feelings for them in real life, and you knew that pretty well. You sighed, looking down at her, not wanting to engage into this kind of topic.

“Anyway, should we celebrate your new cast member and my inability to write a single sentence about art history?” you changed the subject, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. “We could watch Devil Wears Prada and make caramel popcorn.”

Nia gasped dramatically, “these are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard coming from those pretty lips of yours,”  jumping to her feet as she pulled you to stand with her. She then ran out of the room, screaming back, “I’ll get the blankets and you start with the popcorn!”

It’s been years since you’ve known Nia, but yet the dynamic between the two of you has never really changed. You’ve always considered yourself very lucky for having a friend like her in your life. From the day you met her in your English class, it was like seeing someone you had already known your entire life; it was always that easy to be with her. 

You two became inseparable from day one.

Looking back, it’s crazy for you to realize how well your high school plans with each other had turned out. Most people you know had those friends in school they only really talked to because they saw them five times a week. But as soon as graduation came by they parted their ways and became only good nostalgic memories for one another. With the two of you, everything just worked out. 

You both got into the university you wanted, ready to get matching art degrees. On your second year of college, you moved in together. And halfway through the course, Nia just dropped out to enroll on an eighteen months film school. And that’s when she met Nate. 

You always knew she was destined to be that kind of person who just has one great love in her life. Which was funny considering that anyone who spent over five minutes with her and Nate in the same room could swear they would never work together. They just were those kinds of couples who are the polar opposite of each other. 

Nia was a little social butterfly, who could start a conversation with anyone about anything. She could talk for hours with the old ladies at the grocery store about how the new brands of beans are just not as good as the ones not as well known. Or chat with the yoga moms about a new reality show that had premiered on Netflix. She loved experimenting on new things, trying out new recipes or mix distinct colors together on her clothes.

Nate, on the other hand, just wasn’t much of a talker at all. Since the start of their relationship, he often stops by at your apartment -wearing a different shade of grey every time - but it would be a lot to say that you two have had a conversation for longer than five minutes. He just mostly kept it to himself. 

They balanced each other, which is why they worked so well.

It would be a lie for you to say you didn’t think about having something like that for you. You thought maybe you just weren’t the kind of person to have one meaningful relationship in your life. And that was okay. You’d like to think you’re better off on your own, anyway. But now and then you wondered how it would be to fall asleep in someone’s arms every day.

But you tried your best to keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head. You knew that for the most part love is not really meant to last, Nia was just part of the lucky few.

**

The atmosphere in your shared apartment was cozy, as you waited for Evan and his friend to arrive before you started the pizza hangout, as Nia called it. 

You both had spent the day tidying up the place, trying to decorate it a bit with some fairy lights and nice pillows you found in your room. It had been a long time since you had done any kind of social gathering in your home, and Nia wanted everything to be perfect. She even insisted on making the pizzas herself, which took most part of the afternoon, and a lot of bossing around on her part. 

By the time the food was in the oven and the only thing left to do was wait, her boyfriend joined the two of you. 

She was very talkative and bubbly, as she usually is, getting the wine bottles she selected for the evening and placing them on the counter as she chatted with him. It was nice seeing her back do being her usual self after such a stressful week. 

You got the right amount of glasses, placing them next to the bottles, as you hummed along to the Declan Mckenna’s voice playing in the background. You weren’t really paying attention to Nia’s babbles, catching a word or two as she rambled about some dolphin documentary she had to watch for one of her classes. Pouring out a glass for yourself, you looked over to Nate who had a puzzled look on his face, as he tried to make sense of whatever rant his girlfriend had going on. You took a sip of your wine, and laughed lightly at yourself at the contrast between the two of them, something you had always found very amusing to observe. But before you could go further into your thoughts, the sound of the buzzer took over the small apartment.

“They’re here!” Nia gushed, as she quickly made her way out of the kitchen to get the front door, yelling back at you to get the pizzas out of the oven.

“Yes, ma’am,” you teased after she left, earning a light chuckle from Nate. 

Making your way around the kitchen, you took out kitchen gloves that had figures of little chicks printed on them, giving one last check inside the oven to make sure everything was ready, before opening it and taking out the food. You could hear Nia greeting Evan excitedly in the background, as she rushed him and his friend to come inside. As their voices got closer, you turned your back to the entrance, concentrating on not burning yourself while you placed both pizzas on top of the counter.

“There’s our star!” You heard Evan’s loud voice taking over the kitchen space, making you look over your shoulder and laugh at him. 

You turned around while taking off the gloves, as he pulled you into a tight hug, the strong scent of his cologne invading your nostrils. He wasn’t much taller than you, making him being considered short for a man. But his presence in a room was always so loud and bright that he seem much bigger than he actually is. You pulled back and looked at him, suddenly feeling underdressed in your own home. His entire outfit was bright red, being consisted of a jean jacket and silk pants, his eyes matching with vibrant eyeshadow taking over his whole eyelids.

“It’s very nice to see you again Evan,”  you smiled at him, his hands still holding onto your shoulders as he looked warmly at you. “It’s been too long! You look fabulous!”

“Oh honey, you flatter me too much! It’s why I love coming here,” he scoffed playfully, coming to your side and wrapping one arm over your shoulder as he guided you. “But tonight is not about me, unfortunately. It’s about the two of you.”

As you finally moved your attention to the kitchen entrance, you realized another presence standing there. A man, who you assumed was Evan’s friend, already smirking down at you as both of you approached him. 

You suddenly felt nervous under his stare while you could hear Evan commenting on something you didn’t really pay attention to. You had been taken completely by surprise by the man standing in front of you. Sure, Nia had mentioned to you once or twice that he was good looking, but you were not expecting this. 

It was a weird feeling, being this affected by someone you had just met, but you would have to be blind not to notice. His face was beautiful, a sharp jawline contrasting his soft skin, his fingers poked at his bottom lip as he smirked, you could notice the hint of a dimple forming on his cheek. His hair was short, but still long enough to see the shape of slight curls forming in it, some locks falling charmingly against his forehead. But what hit you the most were his eyes, thanks to the dim lighting you couldn’t really tell if they were a shade of forest green or more of a hazel tone, but you could feel your cheeks warming up from the way he watched you as you got closer.

His shoulders were broad, as he was leaning against the entrance, the hand that wasn’t poking at his lip resting inside the pocket of his brown pair of trousers. He wore a blank white shirt, partly tucked in, underneath a beige cardigan. The sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, making you notice the tattoos hugging the skin of his arms. You felt a curious wish to know how many more you could find under all the layers of clothing..

As you and Evan got closer, he moved from his leaning position to stand tall in front of you. The smile never leaving his lips, and his eyes still watching you closely.

“So, darling, meet Harry,” Evan spoke up, gesturing you towards his friend. “He’s a pest, but I’m sure you’ll get along just fine”

“Way to give a first impression, E,” Harry rolled his eyes at his friend’s teasing, before turning his attention back to you. He moved closer, embracing you into a side hug “S lovely to meet you-”

You quickly cleared your throat, afraid that your voice would give you away, before saying your name. The attempt didn’t really seem to work, as your words came out higher than you had intended. You could feel Nia’s gaze turning to you on the corner of your eye, but tried your best to ignore it. He repeated it, before shooting a smile in your direction, the sound of his deep voice and the way his lips circled around the words making the hairs behind your neck rise.

“Okay! So how about we move this party to the living room?” Nia’s voice broke into the atmosphere. “Everyone can get their wine glasses and make themselves comfortable while y/n and I finish arranging the pizzas.”

She shot you a knowing look, before moving to get the wine bottles and handing them to Nate. Everyone shifted to get their glasses and settle in the other room, leaving you and Nia alone. 

You moved to get the knives and looked at the pizzas standing on the counter in front of you, calculating how you could cut out even slices on each. You could see your friend from the corner of your eye leaning on the counter staring directly at you.

“You know you can’t fool me even for a second, miss,” she teased, you could hear the smirk on her voice.

“I’m not doing anything,” you murmured, still not looking in her direction. She scoffed, elbowing you lightly as she mimicked you, saying your name in a high-pitched voice. You shot her a dirty look before shushing her, afraid the guest in the other room could hear her teasing. “I didn’t sound like that!”

“Oh please! You should have seen how you looked at him!” She rolled her eyes at you, “thought you were gonna drop down on your knees right then and there!”

“Nia!” you screamed in a whisper, your cheeks warming up at her words as you pinched her, making her squeal. You quickly shot a look at the entrance to see if anyone might’ve heard her, but they seemed to be enrolled in their own conversation. “Let’s just get this done quickly before they suspect we’re in here for too long.”

“Okay, cheeky girl,” she bit her lip and moved to get a knife to cut one pizza, but still eyeing you with a slight smile, leaning in one last time, “but I told you he was cute.”

Eventually, the two of you finished sorting out the pizza slices and joined everyone in the living room. Nia then rushed to join her boyfriend on the loveseat, leaving the only spot available for you being between Harry and Evan on the couch. She shot you a teasing smile, but you tried your best to ignore it and focus on finishing the wine glass you had poured for yourself earlier.

“Okay, so I’m going to need everyone to eat the food and tell me how good it is,” Nia pointed out to the center table where the  pieces of pizza laid upon, “I’ve spent the entire afternoon on these babies, so eat up!”

“You know that I’ve helped you with them, right?” you added, squinting your eyes at her, “some credit wouldn’t hurt.”

“You only laid the toppings on the dough so they would look even,” she snapped back pointing a finger at you, “I did all the hard work, so shush it.”

But before anyone could move to get a slice, Evan was already stretching out his arms to stop you from moving. “Wait a second,” he spoke, “I feel like I’ve watched enough seasons of MasterChef to be the first one to judge.”

“I mean, you are the best critic I know,” Nia pointed, leaning in to get a slice and offering to Evan, “but again, I don’t really know any other critics.” She humored as he took the food, making a show of analyzing it.

Everyone waited expectantly as Evan bit into the pizza slice, keeping a straight face that didn’t reveal much of his opinions. Nia leaned in his direction, nervously biting her bottom lip as she waited for his final verdict.

“You have to be honest,” she warned, observing him, “but know that I can get my feelings hurt pretty easily.”

“I don’t mind that,” Evan finally said, straightening his posture as he looked back to Nia’s waiting eyes, “I’ll say that it’s not the best pizza I’ve ever had,” he announced, “but it works.”

“You know what, I take it,” everyone laughed lightly as Nia visibly released a breath she had been holding in, “It’s not a bad review for a first time.”

The hours went by quickly as you eased into a conversation with everyone. It was nights like this you missed the most when the stress of all the accumulative work weighted on your shoulders. Having a more of a cool night to hangout with a few friends, drinking some wine and chatting about whatever topic came to mind.

As time passed, you could tell Nia and Evan got more agitated, probably due to the amount of wine they had consumed without even realizing. They chatted excitingly about Midsommar, their voices raising a bit too loud. But every time you tried to shush them, jokingly reminding of the neighbors next door, they would soon forget about it again.  You watched them babble, giggling when they would get excited on a certain topic and start to trip over a few words. 

You also felt lighter because of the alcohol, not as much as them, but still enough so you could feel your chest warmer and your mind a bit dizzy. You still felt an annoying tingle at the pit of your stomach when you felt Harry’s eyes fixating on you when you spoke, or when your hands brushed as you reached for the bottle at the center table. It was silly, and it made you feel like a teenager being in the presence of an attractive boy for the first time.

When it all quiet down eventually, Nia had dragged Evan to her room so he could give an insight on how she could decorate it. It was something she would do now and then, give her room a big renovation so the change in the space could make her more motivated, or something like that. Sometimes, if she felt inspired enough, she would change around the living area or  even your own room - when you allowed her, of course. 

Nate was still sitting on the loveseat looking like he was about to fall asleep at any moment as he scrolled through his phone. He hadn’t spoken a lot during the night, which wasn’t unusual for him, but he still managed to chat for a bit. 

That left you and Harry alone sitting on the main couch, with one person less it left you enough space to cross your legs, making yourself more comfortable. He was sitting on his side, his back resting on the big pillows by the arm of the couch, his chest turned towards you.

You reached for the wine bottle at the center table, realizing there was just a bit left, enough for a last glass for the two of you. “Wanna help me finish it?”  You turned to him with the bottle in your hand. He had a smile resting on his lips, as he raised his glass toward you so you could pour the liquid into it. You could tell his eyes were a bit cloudy, but you knew none of you had had enough to be drunk.

“Thank you, love,” he said, the raspiness on his voice as he spoke the pet name making the hairs in the back of your neck rise. You poured yourself the rest of the wine left, emptying the bottle as you settled it back where you got it. “Should we make a toast?” 

“Sure,” you replied easily, smiling at him, “what should we toast for?”

He looked away, puckering his lips slightly as he made a puzzled expression, a hand scratching at his chin as if in deep thought. You giggled at his dramatics before he pointed his finger up, his face turning into a big smile. He raised his glass in your direction, as you did the same. “A toast for being husband and wife?”

You chuckled, clinking your glasses together, “that’s fair,” you said, “ ‘s why we’re here after all, isn’t it?” you joked, taking a sip of your drink before settling it down on your lap.

“Sure is,” he mimicked, rising his glass to his lips, a smirk still adorning them as he managed to not break eye contact. He took a small sip before settling his glass back on the table.  He scratched the tip of his nose slightly with the side of his finger, before he relaxed back on the couch. “So” he spoke up, bringing your attention to him, “E told me you’re an actual actress,” he raised his eyebrows at you, “made me a bit nervous, love.”

“That right there is a lie,” you chuckled, biting your lip and shaking your head. “I used to do theatre back in the day, haven’t done any acting for years though.”

“A theatre kid, huh?” He laughed as you rolled your eyes jokingly.

“I’m aware we have a poor reputation, yes,” you said,  “I reckon we deserve it, but we weren’t that bad, I promise.”

He giggled, making your heart skip a beat at the sound. His smile was something you could easily get used to, the way it formed crinkles in his eyes and the dimples deep on his cheeks. You had to stop yourself for staring too much, moving your gaze to the glass on your lap.

“People are too harsh on theatre kids,” he reassured, “I think it seems pretty fun — only time I did it was when I played Elvis when I was about five, I think.” He added, resting his arm against the couch, his hand just a few inches away from your shoulders. “Had the time o’my life though.”

“You got main character though, that’s impressive,” you expressed, raising a hand to poke at his side playfully. “Have you done anything since your big debut as the king?”

“Can’t say I have, no,” he chuckled, “guess this is my big comeback, maybe I’ll get a call from broadway soon.”

“I’m sure you will!” You giggled, taking another sip from the glass in your hand.

You found it easy to dive into a conversation with him. You were both giggly from the wine, but it still seemed like you could stay like this for hours on end,  just talking to each other. 

He told you he wasn’t planning on doing the film, considering he never really thought about acting. But when Evan asked him if he could be part of it, he saw how desperate he was to fill the role, so he agreed. It warmed your heart to hear how fondly he spoke about his friend, telling you how willing he was to help, even if it involved doing something out of his comfort zone.

You two bounded over your mutual wish to become teachers. You found out he was studying Literature, a choice that for him as an easy one, considering throughout his life he had always been an avid reader. He said no matter how harsh thing got, he always found an escape between books, you could tell how passionate he was about it as he spoke about his favorite reads.

Eventually, you could hear voices coming closer from Nia’s room, as they seemed to be gushing about the filming that was starting soon. 

As Evan came into the room, he made his way to the couch, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulders. “Honey, as much as I wish we could stay here ‘til dawn, I’m afraid we must get going.”

With his declaration, everyone moved around to gather the dishes splattered across the center table to put it all at the kitchen counter. After some insisting -mostly on Harry’s part- on helping with cleaning, you convinced them you two could handle the task just fine. And they were the guests, after all.

Finally, you said your goodbyes, pulling Evan on a small hug, assuring him you’d do your best to do his script justice.

And as you came to face Harry, he leaned into a hug, giving you a last kiss on the cheek, before telling you how lovely it had been to meet you.

**

You had woken up with your door opening abruptly, making you jump a bit from the sudden change in the peaceful atmosphere from your deep slumber. Before you could process the situation in hand, Nia was already pulling out the covers and spitting out words at a faster pace than you could comprehend in your mind state.

“Get up already! We are very late,” She urged as you lazily scratched at your eyes before sitting up to look at her. “Evan is going to kill us!” She cried out.

Your head pounded slightly, making you search for your water bottle previously prompted by yourself the night before, knowing you would need it in the morning. You reached for it in your nightstand, taking big gulps as you watched amusingly Nia run around your room picking random clothes and throwing it in a duffel bag you had just noticed.

Resting the bottle down on your lap, you yawned lightly, still in the process of waking up. “Calm down Ni,” you mumbled, “We still have time, we’re only leaving at like, two.”

She looked back at you as if you had just slapped her across the face, your shirt falling partly from her hand. “It’s already one,” she informed, making your eyes bulge as you reached to check on your phone, confirming as it read 1:16pm. “We don’t even have our bags packed AND we got a sink full of dishes to wash.”

The minutes after that were rushed, as you two did your best to get ready as fast as possible. Mentally slapping yourself for leaving everything for the last minute, but still managing to pack your bag in record speed.

But as time passed and the list of things to do was still far from over, Nia phoned Evan and let him know you would need a few more hours to be ready to leave. To say he wasn’t the happiest about the news was an understanding, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

A couple hours later you were finally packed, and after a quick stop to shop for road trip snacks you were off on the road. 

You left much later than planned, and even if it wasn’t that much of a long drive, it was still 3 hours until you got there. The ride itself was mostly quiet, except from Lorde’s Melodrama playing softly in the background. You hummed along to the words, but apart from that there wasn’t a lot of talking between the two of you, all due to the limited amount of sleep you got from the previous night.

As you got closer, the scenery of open grass camps and blooming flowers at the peak of spring was a peaceful change of scene from the busy city streets you were used to. And when you finally got to the house, the sun was almost setting on the horizon. The sky being a satisfying mixture of blue and orange. There was a car already parked in, and as you got closer, you could see two figures sitting on the front stairs. 

Getting out of the car, you quickly made your way to where they stood. “Have you been waiting long?” Nia asked as you got closer to them. 

“Longer than I was planning to, I’ll say that,” Evan replied, taking off his sunglasses to greet you.

Harry came up from behind him, looking incredibly cozy wearing a knitted cream sweater. It took everything in you not to nuzzle on him as he met you with a quick embrace. You had to focus on keeping your breathing steady as you looked up at him when you parted. The sun coming from behind you doing wonders as it hit his face perfectly. His eyes were the prettiest shade of green as he smiled down at you before moving to greet  Nia.

“We’ve been here fo’ ten minutes, don’t listen to him,” he assured with a small laugh.

The house itself was much bigger than you expected, it wasn’t huge, by any means, but you had pictured a small cottage with barely any space for the four of you. The place, however, was big enough for you to have your privacy but still small enough to feel cozy and welcoming. 

You quickly found there were three rooms, and despite you arguing you didn’t mind sharing one with Nia, considering you two lived together, she still insisted that you and Harry had your own bedrooms. It was her way of thanking you for agreeing to help them.

After you got established in your respective room, you met everyone down at the kitchen. The place was loud with chatter as they played around while making dinner. Nia seemed to boss the boys around to cut the vegetables properly, as she concentrated on figuring out how to work the old stove. They laughed lightly as she cussed under her breath in frustration after another failed attempt. You watched quietly for a moment, before joining in to help her.

You finally turned the stove on with the help of a few matches you found laying on the counter, being able to cook with no more trouble. It was already getting late when you finished eating and gathered the dishes to lay them on the sink. Still, Nia insisted on watching one of the movies she had carefully selected on her extended collections of DvDs to bring with her. 

You decided to make yourself some tea while the rest of them moved around to arrange themselves for the movie night. After offering if anyone else wanted a cup as well, you were met with Harry’s warm smile as he accepted shyly.

Soon enough everyone settled down on the big couch to watch the movie. Evan took his place on one of the armchairs, while Harry opted to sit by the end of the couch, setting his legs on the footrest in front of him. As you walked in with your mugs, he gazed up at you, shooting a soft smile and muttering a quick ‘thank you’ as you handed him his drink.

He patted the spot next to him, indicating for you to sit, to which you happily obliged. 

“Wanna share?” he asked, holding up a blanket that lied at the arm of the couch. “There’s jus’ three of ‘em.”

“Sure,” you replied, moving to pull the blanket, so it was covering the two of you. You knew very well you could always get an extra one from one of the bedrooms, but you would never bring yourself to suggest it.

Finally, Nia entered the room with a small pack of m&m’s on one of her hands and the DvD case for ‘Love Actually’ on the other. She was quick to insert it on the player before settling down next to you. Pulling out the leftover blanket for herself, she lied down to rest her head comfortably on top of your legs.

It didn’t take long until she fell in deep slumber, cuddling up on your lap as soft snores left her lips. You pouted slightly down at her. The poor thing was exhausted from driving all the way, and the bad night of sleep the day before.

As the movie progressed, you could feel your eyelids getting heavier as well, the words coming from Keira Knightley’s mouth becoming more of a background noise as you fought to keep yourself awake. But before you could doze off, you felt Harry shifting slightly next to you. Suddenly feeling his arm hugging your shoulders, as he gently pulled you closer.

You moved your head to look at him but before you could say anything he shushed you softly and pulled you back in. “ ‘S fine, love,” he whispered, “can see that you’re tired.”

And with a half-woken mind and heavy eyelids you laid back on his shoulder and allowed yourself to snooze.

You woke up with him shifting again from under you, opening your eyes slowly to find the end credits rolling up the screen in front of you. You yawned lightly before sitting up, being careful not to wake a still-very-much-asleep Nia on your lap.

“Sorry,” you heard Harry say as you scratched at your eyes, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” you assured, your voice a bit raspy from your nap, “would have to happen, eventually.” You looked down at the unconscious girl lying on you, knowing you had to get her to bed so she could sleep properly. “We should wake her.”

“Want me to carry her to her room?” he asked.

“I think she’ll be okay,” you replied, gently calling her name so she could slowly wake up.

Surely, it didn’t take a lot of coaxing to get her eyelid to flutter open, as she lazily rose from her sleep.

You helped her to her room, afraid she’d trip down the stair in her hazy state of mind, still half asleep as she dragged her feet across the floor. 

As soon as she laid down in her bed, you made your way back to the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water so you could go to sleep. 

It surprised you to find Harry still awake as you entered the space; he looked up at you from his position leaning on the counter with his phone in his hand. Quickly placing it in his back pocket as he saw you coming in, giving you a slight smile. “Thought you’d gone to bed.”

You reached for the cabinet Nia had pointed you to earlier where the cups were placed, picking one with little thought and closing it. “Just came here for a glass of water,” you spoke, moving the cup under the tap, “always have one next to my bed, y’know, in case I get thirsty and stuff.” You shook your head slightly, not wanting to ramble about the benefits of staying hydrated during the night just to make a conversation.

“Smart girl,” he joked, causing you to chuckle as you felt blush creeping out on your cheeks. You could see him coming closer to stand next to you from the corner of your eye, which didn’t help the tingly feeling forming at the pit of your stomach. “Excited fo’ tomorrow?” he asked, crossing his arms on top of the counter as he leaned next to you.

“Guess I am,” you answered, looking up at him and finding he was closer than you had realized. You smiled nervously as you met his eyes gazing down at you, before clearing your throat lightly. “What about you?”

“To be honest ‘m a bit nervous, love,” he confessed.

“Why’s that?” 

“I mean,” he started, his eyes still fixed on you, “ ‘s not every day I get to pretend ‘m married to a pretty girl like you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat as he reached one of his hands to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. He kept his hand on your cheek just as his eyes seemed to gaze down at your lips, so subtly that it felt like you might’ve imagined it. 

The silence in the room was loud as you could almost hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, as he leaned down just barely, getting closer to you. He looked down one more time at your lips, this time making sure you realized the unspoken question behind that action. You suddenly felt water pouring through your fingers, as the forgotten cup in your hand overflowed. This caused you to jump back a bit, quickly turning the tap off and resting the glass on the counter. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, reaching out for a towel right next to the sink to dry your hand. “I’m sorry, that was-” you chuckled, glancing at Harry who seemed to watch you with an amused expression. “That was awkward, sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” He assured, picking the full glass and moving it in the counter so it was out of your reach. “ ‘t was actually quite cute,” he moved closer to you again, reaching his hand to hold at your jawline. 

You held back your breath as you felt his own hitting the top of your upper lip, your noses brushing slightly. 

“Been wanting to do this fo’ a bit now, love,” he spoke a bit above a whisper, his deep voice sending chills down your spine and making you grab at his sweater, ”would you let me?” his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly, “would you let me kiss you?”

You could feel your heart beating strongly against your rib cages, swallowing hard as you looked up at him. He was watching you closely, his dark emerald irises gazing down at you as your lips barely brushed. You nodded at him, trying to pull him closer.

“Use your words, darling,” he insisted, not budging from his position. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Harry I-” you moved your hand to grasp on his waist, “just —kiss me.”

Giving a satisfied hum, he finally leaned down, closing the space between the two of you. His hand remained stroking your cheek softly, as the other sneaked under your neck.

He moved his lips ever so slightly, his cupid bow founding its way above your inner lip, sucking on it gently. The kiss was teasingly slow, making you hyper aware of all of your senses. Your hands feeling the soft fabric of his sweater, grabbing at it as if asking for more. 

He moved the hand on your neck, pulling gently at your hair, making you angle your head up a bit. As his tongue poked to lick at your bottom lip, you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You stayed like this for a while, pressed against the kitchen wall as you enjoyed the taste of each other. 

When you pulled back, he splattered a few kisses along your cheek, giving one last peck on your mouth before pulling back.

“As much as I don’t want to end this now,” he muttered, moving his hand, so they were both holding your cheeks, “We should get some sleep fo’ tomorrow.” 

“We should,” you agreed.

“We’ll get the chance to do this again,” he said, making you bite down a smile at the innuendo behind his words.

He gave you one last kiss before pulling away completely, reaching for the glass of water you had already forgotten about on the counter and handing it to you. 

You walked back to your rooms without saying a word, but still sharing glances and smiles along the way. And as you got to your respective rooms, you whispered quiet good nights before parting ways and closing the door behind you.

**

The days that followed were rushed, considering the filming had officially started. You two barely had the chance to be alone again, which was disappointing. But still you couldn’t find yourself time to miss the feel of having his soft lips against yours, considering the scenes you had with each other. What you did miss was being able to kiss him without it being written in a piece of paper, or having someone from outside tell you to. You missed the intimacy of feeling his tongue meet your own and having his hands pulling you close as you both craved for more. You missed the shared secret between just the two of you, that was knowing how it felt to have him all to yourself.

It was discomforting, earning for someone you barely even know. Jumping into a feeling you know there’s no way can end well. You both were playing characters. Lovers, yes, but it was all pretend. It didn’t help that he was so good at it. In front of the cameras he would be so loving that you often wondered how much of it was just part of the act. 

It was subtle things that made you think of it, like a glance across the room between takes. Him leaning close to you every time they called you to watch back something you had just recorded. Or when he sucked in your lip during a scene, so softly you could barely notice but still made your heart skip a beat.

But as much as it was nice to pretend that you two had some shared secret, you knew that the most likely scenario was that he was just doing his work and being friendly. So you tried your best to convince yourself that all of it was just your mind playing tricks, this way you could prevent yourself from inevitably getting hurt. That encounter in the kitchen was most likely his way of making things less awkward to when you inevitably would have to do it in front of a camera. That was it, nothing more. 

It seemed to have worked pretty well, you two had the chemistry Evan hoped for when he wrote his script. Nia kept teasing you with every given opportunity. You didn’t tell her about the late night kitchen situation, but you knew she could sense the ‘chemistry’ was not simply because you two were just that good at acting. No one was complaining though, considering everything was going so smoothly they suspected it could be wrapped up even earlier than expected.

Every time they would mention the possibility, you found yourself wishing deep down something would set you back on the schedule. You felt bad for it, and you never voice your inner thoughts, but you knew wrapping up early meant going home early, and you were getting a bit too comfortable getting to act all loved up on camera.

As if some kind of outer force had listened to your wishes, just as you were halfway throughout the week, mother nature seemed to be your biggest ally.

You had just woken up with the annoying tune of your alarm clock, one you had chosen for finding it soothing at first. But you soon found that those sounds are not meant to feel soothing at all, as it woke you from your deep slumber. You were quick to turn it off before rubbing your eyes softly and enjoying the warmth of your bed for a few more minutes. You could hear the gentle sounds of raindrops hitting your window, but barely paid any attention to it as you rose lazily, stretching your arms above your head.

Making your way down the stairs you first noticed Evan standing by the big window in the living room, looking out with a hand resting on his hip and the other one holding a mug. Behind him, in one of the armchairs, sat Harry, also drinking out of a mug as he read a book quietly. But as if he felt your presence as you got to the bottom of the staircase, he looked up, smiling at you as you made your way into the room.

“G’morning,” he spoke, alerting the man by the window of your presence as he turned around to look at you.

“Good morning,” you said back, before realizing the worried expression on Evan’s face, “is everything okay?”

“A disaster just happened, honey, look out the windows!”  he snapped, gesturing behind him where you could see the rain hitting the glass. The sky was dark with clouds, suggesting it was just the beginning of the storm that was to come. You looked back with a puzzled expression, knowing the weather was not the best, but as far as you remembered you had already shot all the scenes you needed outside. Evan rolled his eyes, “our natural light is gone, honey, it’s too dark to shoot!” he barked.

“Hey, no need to yell at her like tha’,” Harry looked back at his friend, attempting to calm him down, “ ‘s fine, we were early on schedule anyway, one day is not gonna delay it.”

He shot a look at Harry, his hand finding its way back on his waist as he let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, this is just incredibly frustrating.”

You smiled at him to assure it was fine, knowing how much stress he was putting on because of this project. “Doesn’t Nia have one of those light things you were using the other day to make the scene brighter?” You suggested.

Evan sighed, “that’s a reflector, it just— well, reflects the light, we would need the sun for it to work, and seems like she’s not showing her face anytime soon,” he weightened his shoulders down, clearly feeling defeated. “I guess today is our off day — we should use it to pray for sunlight tomorrow, otherwise I’m pulling my hair off.”

When Nia woke up, you could tell she was not happy at all with the news that filming had to be cancelled for the time being. She spent the whole breakfast whining and crying about the poor weather. You tried your best to console her, but knowing your friend you knew her dramatics showed off when she worried about something. She tended to overthink every scenario that could go wrong, which did nothing to help the pressure she put on herself.

The day went on as eventless as it possibly could, the rain outside just seeming to get angrier as time passed by. You did your best to distract Nia from her own head, asking her about the recent documentaries she had watched, knowing she could go on tangents for hours. You talked about crime shows you have started before filming and shared different theories you had on them. You even listened to her deep analysis of trashy reality shows she loved to watch and always tried to drag you to get into it.

You talked and talked with no end, considering there wasn’t much else to do. Nia’s aunt hated computers and refused to install any kind of wifi, leaving you with a shitty connection that barely loaded a five-minute video.

As the evening came by, and the raindrops still hit angrily at the windows, you decided to watch another movie — this time it was Evan’s choice of Freaky Friday. 

You volunteered to grab the blankets from the cabinets on the second floor, while Nia excitedly announced she would make popcorn for everyone.

Quickly moving along the hallway, you made your way in front of the doors and opened them. You could hear footsteps coming up the stairs as you tiptoed to  reach the top shelf where the soft blanket you had used the first night lied on top of. 

“Need help?” You heard a voice approach, looking over your shoulder to find Harry walking towards you with an amused expression on his face. You nodded, chuckling as you quickly stepped out of the way to allow him to take your place. He reached up, easily retrieving the blanket and giving it to you.

“Thank you,” you muttered, looking up at him for a moment.

“No problem, darlin’,” he said, fetching two other blankets  before closing one door with a swing of his hip. You closed the other one with a small giggle. You started to quietly move along towards the staircase when he cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him. He kept his gaze down before speaking softly, “After the movie, think I’ll go back to my room a bit early,”  he looked at you for a moment, “ ‘f you want to join me.”

You stopped walking to look at him arching your eyebrows surprised, not expecting this kind of proposal at this moment. He stopped a step ahead of you, staring back with nervous eyes and shooting you a shy smile. “I’m not saying we have to do anything, I just-” he spluttered, “just wanted to be with you, without the camera and stuff.”

You smiled at him, “of course,” you voiced, “sounds nice.”

Shortly, you found yourself in the same position as the first day. Sharing a blanket with Harry, but this time Nia was wide awake next to you with a bucket of popcorn plopped on her lap. Some people would consider her to be the worst kind of person to watch movies with, considering she would always get too excited and comment on every scene she could. You had gotten so used to it with time, that it felt weird watching a movie without her voice interrupting a scene every five minutes.

It got hard to concentrate on this one in particular, and not because of Nia’s speaking over the lines, but the sudden feeling of Harry’s hand resting on your knee halfway through it. Your legs were crossed on top of the couch, making part of it rest slightly on top of his as he eased his thumb over your skin.

As time passed, he moved his hand up a bit, finding its final place on your inner thigh, causing goosebumps to arise on the back of your neck as he caressed it softly. You caught yourself holding your breath multiple times, something he was also probably aware of, considering the position of his arm on the side of your chest. 

The tension between you two was almost palpable as the end credits rolled up. At that point you had prompted yourself to lean your head on his shoulders. He grasped your skin slightly before removing his hand and motioning his position to get up, making you pull back from him.

“‘m going back to my room now,” he announced as he got up, shooting you a knowing look, “g’night.”

You stayed back for a few minutes so as not to look too suspicious, folding up the blanket you had used and scrolling through your phone for a bit. Not long after you excused yourself, climbing the stairs two steps at a time.

You found him in the hallway, leaning in on the wall right next to his door as he looked down on his phone. As he felt your presence he gazed up, grinning softly before bringing his finger above his lips as to warn you to stay quiet.

The two rushed inside his room, trying to be as quiet as possible, considering your friends downstairs could come up at any second. He closed the door behind him, looking right at you as he leaned back. His room was similar to yours, the difference being a few more clothes lying on top of the small couch standing at the corner. The curtains hanging on the big windows were pushed open, allowing the moonlight from the now-clear sky to illuminate the place. 

Your breath got caught in your throat as you stared back at him, meeting his dark irises. He started stepping closer to you until he could lean his forehead against yours. His hands found their way caressing your jawline, one of them going as far as to pulling lightly on the hair above your neck. You held your breath, gazing up at him as you waited for his next move.

He smiled lazily, brushing his nose against your softly before placing a peck to the corner of your lips. He was teasing you, his hand leaving your hair to find its way down your body, paying special attention to the side of your breast before placing itself holding your waist.

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart speed up as you pulled him closer, wanting desperately to close the space between the two of you. Too scared that your voice would give out your desperation, you moved one of your hands to the back of his neck and pulled him in. He didn’t think twice before finally closing the space and allowing you to feel his lips against yours.

The kiss started slow, both of you still trying to figure it out how it was to taste each other like this. His lips were soft, moving teasingly as he sucked on your bottom lip. Your hand pulled his hair gently, causing him to whine into mouth, licking at your tongue as he deepened the kiss. The hand on your waist moved up, caressing the side of your breast softly as he tried to pull you in as close as possible.

He started easing you backwards, considering neither of you were willing to break the kiss to watch where you were going. You felt the mattress of his bed hitting the back of your knees. You allowed him to lay you into the bed, parting for a moment so you could move upwards, laying your head on the pillows. Shortly enough he joined you, placing his elbows on both sides of your head, not wasting any time before closing the space between your mouths again.

The two of you stayed like this for a while. Slowly kissing each other, as your arm found its way back behind his neck and one of his hand caressed your cheek. You could get used to this, with him being the only thing you could sense. His taste. His touch. His scent. 

He was all you could think about.

When you finally pulled back, you could see his red, puffy lips even with the limited amount of lighting going into the room. 

He looked into your eyes for a moment, “you look so pretty like this, darling,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “Could eat you up.” 

A small whimper left your mouth, as he dove back in to spread kissed along your cheek and down your throat. You bit hard into your lip and swallowed back a moan as he sucked in a spot right below your jawline. You could feel him grinding his hips down on your tights, making you aware of the growing bulge inside his sweats.

You placed your hand on his shoulders, pushing him gently and disconnecting him from your neck. He pulled back, looking back at you with a puzzled look. You kept pushing him until his shoulders hit the mattress, reverting the previous position you both were in, as you stranded his waist.

Looking down at him, you wanted so badly to discover his body, to make him feel good. So you took the same position he had on you. Placing your lips against his neck and running your tongue against it, sucking in his skin. You kept doing it as your hand smoothed down his body, finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it enough so you could scratch at his love handles. He gave you a small moan, a sound so delicious to hear you that made you want to swallow him whole. 

Both his hands found their place on your waist, pressing you down so you could feel his need between your tights. You quickly pulled your head from his neck, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“Please, love, just-” he grunted, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Just do something, please, I-“

His hands gripped tightly on your waist as you rolled your hips against him. Neither of you could contain your moans as you repeated the movement, even fully clothed his bulge rubbed deliciously against the place you needed it the most. 

You leaned down again, this time pushing his shirt up as you made your way down his body, splattering open-mouthed kisses along his warm chest. You paid a special mind to the tattoos you met along the way, sucking spots over the wings of a butterfly inked on his stomach. As you licked along the leaves of the ferns that adorned his love handles, you felt one of his hands tangling in your hair, his hips rising slightly as he whimpered.

“A bit impatient, you are,” you spoke, feeling his belly tighten as you placed a playful bite under his belly button, causing another moan to leave his lips.

“Darlin’, please,” he whined, “Just- fuck, just need you right now.”

You decided not to tease him for too long, considering you needed it just as much as he did. Finally, you moved down once more to place a kiss above the hard on over his pants. He lifted his head, watching your every move as his hand that was placed on your hair pushed some strands away from your forehead. You wrapped your hand around the hem of his sweats, rising your eyebrows at him as you felt he wasn’t wearing any underpants. The thought of having such easy access to him making you press your thighs together, feeling your wetness already damping your underwear 

Slowly, you bit your bottom lip, keeping your gaze focused on him as you moved his sweats down, he raised his hips as to help you out. Once his cock was fully out, you stared back down at it lying proudly against his stomach. You ran your fingers gently along his length, causing him to hold his breath, his abdomen tightening once more. He was definitely bigger than anyone you had ever been with, causing your mouth to water a bit and your thighs to press together once again at the thought of fully having him.

You could feel him peering down at you as you wrapped your hands around the base and applied the smallest amount of pressure. The precum was already escaping from the tip and sliding down the tiniest bit. 

Moving your head forward you looked back at his waiting eyes, spitting on top of the head as you moved your hand up caressing it. This time he gave you an actual moan, throwing his head back at the pillows behind him. 

Looking down at him, you didn’t know where to place your lips first, wanting to bite and lick every part of his body. Finally deciding on sucking a spot on his thigh, right next to where rested an ink of a tiger head.

You kept the movement of your hand, twisting it and applying more pressure eventually as you watched him shift around under you. He raised his hips slightly as he pleaded under his breath for more, his hand firmly on top of your head as the other was thrown above his own.

You moved your thumb to run across his slit, caressing the head with a flick of your wrist as you moved your mouth to place kisses at the base. At this point he became a moaning mess, throwing his arm over his mouth as to muffle the sounds while you licked up his shaft.

“God- fuck- such a good girl,” he moaned on his arm, moving it out of the way so he could look down at you. “Doing so good, you feel so good- shit.”

Smiling at him, you jerked him off a couple of times before resting your hand at the base so you could replace it with your mouth.

You licked around his head, giving it a small kiss before you moved down as far as you could go. He cried out, tightening his grip on your hair and moving his hips up to meet your movements as you sucked on him.

He was desperate to reach his climax, and you were desperate to see him cum undone under your touch. So you started speeding up, your mouth licking at his veins, your hand helping you as you moved it along his dick. He was cursing and moaning over you, pleading for you not to stop. You kept moving your hand as you licked at his head once more before detaching so you could look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Almost there?” you asked, having him nod frantically at you, “will you let me have a taste?”

That seemed to do it for him, as he pushed your head back down, making you attach your lips to his head as you felt him shoot his load inside your mouth. You milked him as he came down from his high, feeling his softness on your lips as you swallowed down.

You sat up and looked down at his hazy eyes while he calmed down with heavy breaths. He adjusted his sweats quickly before moving himself up to pull you in for a frantic kiss. “God, darling, you’re a dream,” he spoke between kisses, his hands gripping at your waist as he positioned you to lie on top of him, moving one of them under your shirt, pulling it up slowly.

You quickly placed your hand on top of his stopping him from going further as you detached from him. He furrowed his brows at you. “I should go back to my room,” you said, “got an early day tomorrow.”

He gave you a puzzled look, “but you still haven’t- “

“it’s okay,” you interrupted, moving to get up from his bed, suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Good night!”

You left his room before he could protest, wanting to slap yourself from running away like this. 

**

The next morning was thankfully much brighter than the one before, with sunlight shining through the windows at the earliest hours. You didn’t get a lot of sleep, tossing and turning around, replaying the previous night in your head. The thought of what could’ve happened if you had stayed imprinted itself in your mind. You started to overthink it. What did he even think of you? After running away like that? 

Your thoughts consumed you as you sat in of the stools in the kitchen by yourself, for the first time being the first to be awake. Your coffee running cold by the minute, as you frowned to yourself, taking a sip every so often.

It didn’t take long until you didn’t find yourself alone anymore, having Evan join you as he happily cheered about the nice weather. You nodded along to him, not really in the mood for talking as you anxiously poked at your nails.

It was when you walked towards the sink to wash your used mug that you saw Harry walking into the kitchen. His hair messy and his eyes sleepy, making you annoyed at how charming he managed to look even after just getting out of bed. 

He greeted you with a raspiness to his voice, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long as he smirked before moving to the cabinets. He stood next to you while you washed the dishes, grabbing himself a bowl while he worked on his breakfast.

Yours arms would brush every so often as you moved while doing your tasks, making you gaze at him. He kept a grin sitting on his face as he casually made a conversation with Evan, his dimple poking out the smallest bit, but still not looking back at you.

As soon as you were finished you left for your bedroom so you could get ready for the day, but not before sparing one last glance at Harry. This time his eyes were already trained on you as he chewed slowly his fruit salad. You felt your cheeks getting a bit warm from the eye contact, making you look down and leave the room with a speeding heart.

The work started early, as you ran around to keep up with the schedule after losing one day of productivity. 

Harry seemed to be in it for teasing you. His touches lingered longer than needed. His kisses were harsher, the need behind them being almost palpable. His gaze on you told you something you couldn’t really tell exactly what it was. Lust? Desire? You weren’t entirely sure, but every time you caught him watching you felt a warmth take over your face.

In one occasion, between takes, as Nia and Evan discussed the best position for the camera considering her broken tripod. You stood awkwardly waiting for their instructions as you played with the hem of your dress. You could feel him staring closely, looking up to find him with the same smirk he gave you in the morning. He looked quickly over your friends who were still trying to figure out the problem before leaning up close to you “Still haven’t let me have a taste, love,” he said quiet enough to that just you could hear, the words sending a chill down your spine and making your core twitch as you glanced back at him.

That same night, after you announced you’d tuck yourself in, just as you changed into your pajama shorts, you heard a soft knock on your door.  You opened up to see his darkened irises staring back at you as he quietly let himself in. And within a few minutes he found his place between your legs, your hand gripping tightly at his curls as you moaned into your pillow.

The  following day wasn’t much different, starting with a tight filming schedule that was coming to a close end. An exchanging of glances across the room and yearning touches with underlying motives behind them. Ending with you lurking into his room at the dark hours of the night, craving-filled touched and muffled moans.

**

The wrap up of the film was welcomed with a bittersweet feeling settling itself in the pit of your stomach. Knowing as much as you were glad everything had gone as smoothly as possible during this week, it was time to leave it all behind. 

You were nervous about how it would be with Harry after you got home. Was this the start of something that could potentially become a warm and beautiful feeling? Or was it just a lust-filled affair that would end as quickly as it had started? It made you anxious to think about it, not wanting to let go of it just yet.

Nia walked into the living room with two champagne bottles that had been brought up for this exact moment. The atmosphere was filled with chatter as everyone celebrated the end of the hard work. 

You were dressed in the fanciest clothes you had brought on your rushed-packed bag, which consisted itself in a black blouse and a loose pair of pants you stole from Nia’s wardrobe a couple weeks prior. But you once again could not compete with Evan’s sense of style, as he seemed right out of a cover with a hot pink turtleneck under a sparkly black dress that hung all the way to his feet.

But you still couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

You watched as he laughed along at something that had been said, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before fixing on Nia as she offered to serve him the champagne she had just opened. 

He looked so good. 

Like you, he didn’t opt for a very glam look, wearing a simple graphic white tee with a rainbow printed on it, and a simple pair of checked trousers. But as plain as someone could argue it was, he still managed to look incredibly inviting, which made it harder for you not to latch yourself onto him.

You were coming into your sixth or seventh glass when it all died down. Your head was fuzzy, and you felt giggly as you cheered along with everyone about the successful week you had. Nia had already gone back to her room. She didn’t  drink as much considering she would have to drive early in the morning, wanting to leave most of the celebration for the premiere day. 

The glances stolen between you and Harry were getting more frequent, the longing in each other's eyes visible with the effect of the alcohol.

**

He had you pressed up against your bedroom door as he sucked in your bottom lip harshly. His hands gripped at your waist tightly, putting his weight against you.

You wrapped your hand around his neck as the other pulled at his shirt desperately with the need of having him close. You felt overwhelmed by him in the nicest way. Having his hips pressing against your own, making you open your tights slightly as you felt his arousal straining on his trousers.

You whimpered into his mouth at the feeling, suddenly needing him as close as possible. You could tell his desperation matched your own by the way his hand pressed on the side of your body and his mouth moved against you. His groans getting lost in your throat every time you tangled your fingers on his roots, pulling at it.

“You’re gonna kill me like this, baby,” he breathed out, his lips moving against your wanting ones, “so fuckin’beautiful.”

You tried to keep your shaky hands steady as they travelled down his chest, scratching as his tummy lightly under his shirt before you began pulling it up. He detached from you to quickly reach over his shoulders and pull it off completely.  He didn’t waste any time bringing his hand to unbutton your blouse, peppering kisses along your lips as he moved it down your shoulders, only to be met with your bare breasts underneath.

“Fuck me,” he groaned staring down at you, attaching your lips once again as he pulled you from the door as he fiddled with the zipper of your pants. You stumbled on each other's arms across the floor until you were met with the plush feeling of the bedcovers on the back of your thighs. 

You stepped out of your pants as they got loose around your waist and fell damply to the floor, allowing Harry to push you gently into the mattress. He quickly got rid of his own trousers, wasting no time before towering above you, connecting your mouths once again.

It was like no matter how close you were, it still wasn’t good enough to satisfy the craving you had. You still wanted more. Needed more. 

He was fully licking into you, his hands gripping your tights as he rolled his hips to meet yours. You moaned in unison at the feeling of your arousals meeting deliciously as he repeated the movement once more before parting your mouths so he could spread kisses along your neck.

“Harry,” you breathed out his name, dragging your nails along his back as you moved your hips up eagerly.

He moved his head from your neck o hover above yours, licking his lips teasingly as he looked down at you with dark eyes. He moved one of his hands to caress your cheek lovingly, as the other found your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple. “Can I have a taste, baby?” he leaned his forehead against your, not breaking eye contact, “just a fo’a bit, then you can have me.”

You nodded frantically, brushing your nose against his. He gave you one last peck on the lips before moving down again to lick down at your skin. He pressed open-mouthed kisses at your chest, sucking harshly between your breasts.  His tongue moved along your belly, craving his finger into it playfully like you had done to him, making you squeal above him.

He finally settled down between your thighs, his hand gripping at them to keep it apart before moving teasingly slow to the hem of your underwear. Your breath got caught in your throat as you moved up to lean on your elbows, gazing at him, hyper-aware of his every move. 

He looked up, grinning like a devil, before moving his face down to nose gently at your mound. Pulling away, he pressed his hands on your sides, sliding your underwear off your legs as you helped him, raising your hips slightly.

You whimpered as you felt him kiss along your inner thigh, meeting your middle as licked you once. Your hips raised impatiently, making him smirk at you again before completely diving in.

You got lost in the pleasure as he licked his tongue into you, letting yourself fall back in the cushions behind your head. Your hand moved to grip at his hair tightly as he sucked in your clit, making you yelp and call out his name. His mouth was warm as his saliva mixed with your own wetness every time he licked into you.

Feeling your arousal pooling on your folds, you desperately needed to feel him as close as possible. Wanting every inch of him against you.

You pushed him from you, grabbing at his shoulder so he could move up to face you again. He didn’t protest, spattering quick kisses along the way before pressing his mouth against yours. The taste of champagne still lingering on your tongue mixed with your own taste on his as he licked into your mouth.

“y’taste so good, baby,” he groaned, parting from you as he moved to remove his briefs. The limited amount of light illuminated his face beautifully, making you able to notice the glistening of your juices down his chin. You felt your core twitch at the scene above you, desperate to have him fill you up.

“Please,” you urged him, grabbing at his hips to pull him down.

“Can I have you, darlin’?” His voice was raspy, as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, “‘d you let me?”

Your arousal blurred your mind, your grip on his waist tightened as you raised your hips impatiently, nodding along to his question.

“Have to hear you say it, love,” he spoke, leaning down to place kisses along your neck, “just say it, and you’ll have me.”

“You can have me, please, I-” you moaned desperately, babbling words without thinking, “I need you, please.”

He raised his head from your shoulders, giving you a quick peck before reaching down to guide his length between your folds. Your belly tensed as he rubbed his head against your clit, holding back your breath as he finally slid in you.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he choked, pushing his hips all the way, allowing you to feel every inch of him fill you up. You breathed out a moan, reaching your hand on his back. “‘s this all fo’ me?”

You whined out a ‘yes’, rolling your hips as a way of urging him to move. 

His movements began slow, his cock rubbing heavenly against your walls, making you clench around him. You both moaned and whimpered as your lips brushed.

“Can feel me deep?” He asked, resting his forehead against yours as he pushed his dick all the way in. You nodded, yearning for him to start moving again. “Can feel me in y’belly?”

“H, please,” you begged, gripping your nails on his shoulder blades.”Want you.”

“y’have me,” he kissed you hard before moving again, rolling his hips as he picked up the pace.

 The air around you was hot as you threw your head back with the delicious feeling of him hitting the spot inside of you. He was addicting. The salty taste of his skin. The touch of his hands gripping on your sides. The smell of his cologne faintly mixed with sweat. The sound of his skin meeting yours. It made you earn for him in every possible way. 

You felt your wetness dripping out of you as he pulled your leg up to your chest, allowing him to effectively hit deeper spots. The new position made a cramp start to creep up on your thight, but you ignored it to focus on the way his hips met yours.

Time seemed to pass like a blur as you pleasured each other, but soon enough you felt your orgasm building up. His thrusts became more frequent and smooth as he felt you clench more around him.

“that’s it, baby - fuck,” he grunted, moving his hand down to flicker your clit, causing to arch your back, moaning loudly. “Wanna feel you come for me.”

His cross necklace dangled over you as he watched you closely. You kept your gaze locked on his as you felt the feeling deep in your tummy take over your entire body. A moan got stuck in your throat as you opened your mouth to an ‘O’ shape, digging your nails further on his shoulders as you reached your high.

**

Getting home, you soon realized that throughout the week you had been so lost in your feelings with Harry that you didn’t even think of asking him for his phone number. 

The month that followed passed by surprisingly quickly. During the first week you were swiftly thrown back again into your old reality of course essays and textbooks. You hadn’t heard a word from Harry, and the most frustrating part is that he seemed to have settled his place inside your thoughts. You tried asking about him to Nia once or twice again, but every time she seemed to come up with vague answers and change the subject, so you figured she had other things to worry about. 

It was a disappointing end, to say the least. Even knowing from the start that being let down was the most possible outcome, it didn’t hurt any less. You often wondered if it had been something you’d done that made him pull away, or if he just wasn’t in it from the start.

By the second week you had gotten a job at a tiny local cafe you used to go after class to study and eat cinnamon rolls. That’s when time starting to rush by, as you found yourself busy through most of your day. Nia was working more than you’ve ever seen her. You two barely talked as she spent most of her time with Evan or inside her room editing. And as the week at the camp house got further away, it started to almost seem like you had imagined all of it. 

Having a lot of distractions helped, but you never seemed to push the thought of a certain curly-haired boy completely away. Sometimes during a tedious lesson you would daydream about the feeling of his lips against yours. Or right before you fell asleep you would think about the taste of his skin, how strong his hand were gripping on your thighs. Maybe even at work. When there wasn’t a lot of movement, you could almost hear the sound of his voice.

It was aggravating, the effect he left on you. It got to a point where you got angry; sometimes at him but sometimes at yourself. He was the one who had gone after you, and yet he was the one who disappeared. But again, he didn’t really owe you anything, and that’s what’s frustrating. You were the one who allowed him; you knew from the start that you would get hurt but you still went for it, anyway.

As you got closer to the premiere night that was planned, you started to get anxious. You would catch yourself daydreaming more often, not being as focused as you were. You even started picking your nails again, which is a habit you thought you’d kick it a long time ago. But truth to be told, you were nervous.

The thought about seeing him again made your heart race. You wished that you could somehow find a way not to go. Maybe ask Nia if the two of you could have a private viewing. You had even thought about bribing her with making your mom’s brownie recipe. But you already knew the answer before you even suggested it. This was an important night for her, and you would be there to support it.

You were overthinking this. Was it going to be awkward when you met him? How would you even greet him? Would he kiss you? Would he ignore you? Should you ignore him? All the scenarios in your head made you want to throw up and run away.

**

When the two of you finally arrived, you were greeted by a cheerful Evan, who jokingly teased you for being late. As you got into his house, you found a bigger group than you expected. It seemed like you and Nia were the last ones to arrive, as there was around ten other people in there. Some of them you recognized from being Nia’s friends, others you had never seen, but none was the one you earned to see the most.

Evan guided you across the living room area, “I’ll show you the kitchen so you two can get some drinks,”  He held up his glass as he spoke. Gesturing to the entrance of the room, “We’ll start everything in around ten minutes, so get ready.”

As you entered the kitchen behind Nia, you could feel her stiffen her posture a bit, before looking back at you. You frowned lightly at her, confused by her behaviour, gazing inside the room and finding immediately a pair of green eyes already watching you. It made you think back to the first time you were in this exact position, except in your own kitchen. This time, however, he was the one to approach you.

He looked really good, which did nothing to help the butterflies flying relentlessly in your stomach. He was in all black, a buttoned up shirt with a few buttons open, exposing a bit of the skin on his chest where a silver necklace laid upon. You swallowed dryly at the sight of his hand running swiftly through his hair, with a ring hugging each one of his fingers. 

As he got close, he greeted Nia first, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, before turning his attention back to you. He shot you a shy smile, before embracing you into a hug. You didn’t really know if it was your mind playing tricks but you felt him a bit hesitant as he greeted you and placed a kiss on your cheek. Pulling away, he cleared his throat, running his hand again through his hair, he almost seemed… nervous?

“‘S nice seeing you again,” he mumbled, “this uhm… ‘s my girlfriend, Jess.”

You could felt your heart drop with his words as you finally noticed a smiley girl coming to his side. 

She wasn’t much taller than you, her red hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail. She matched him with a small black dress that annoyingly hugged her body in all the right ways. You could barely register her greeting you, as you tried your best to keep a straight face to hide the shock that took over your body. You felt a heaviness at the pit of your stomach, a feeling so distressful that made you want to scream as an attempt to make it go away.

You didn’t pay a lot of attention as Nia made a conversation with the girl, knowing that’s what she did best. You kept your gaze directed to Harry, your eyes asking a million questions - you didn’t even think you wanted to know the answers to. But he kept his eyes locked on the floor, eventually looking up at the girl in his arms as she seemed to mention him. But never meeting your own.  Her hand was caressing his chest lovingly while his found their way on her waist, keeping her close.

“I think I’ll get something to drink,” you announced, realizing you might’ve interrupted the conversation as they stopped talking. You turned to Nia, “do you want something?”

She looked back at you with sorry eyes, “I should go with you,” she quickly turned back to the girl, “It was lovely meeting you, Jess.”

“Oh! Sure,” she smiled brightly at you two, her hand moving to rest on Harry’s chest, “we should go get our seats as well, right, babe?” 

You left the scene as quickly as you could, not wanting to hear any more of it. Looking at all the drink options on top of the counter, you tried to think which one could get you drunk enough to stop feeling hurt over someone you spent just a week with, but still sober enough so that you could pretend everything was fine. Before you realized, Nia was standing next to you, getting two plastic pink cups before she stared at you with guilty-filled eyes.

“I should’ve just told you about it,” she sighed, “I didn’t want to make you sad, but looking back it was probably best if you already knew.”

You turned your head to look at her, “so you knew it all along?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt it close once again.

“Evan told me like a few days after we got back!” She rushed, “I don’t know if they were together while we were filming.”

You took a deep breath, knowing Nia was probably blaming herself for putting you into this situation. But you knew it wasn’t her fault, she would never purposely put you in this position if she knew about it before.

“You know what, it’s fine,” you tried your best to cover up the hurt and gave her a weak smile, “it’s not your fault Ni. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, “I’m sorry, bubba,” she said, “let’s get you something to drink so you can enjoy this party like the star you are!”

The two of you decided on the vodka mixed with watermelon juice, something you had never even thought of trying before but seemed to be ideal to handle the situation you found yourself in. You walked back to the living area, where people were already beginning to settle on the chairs. 

Following Nia, you prompted yourself on a seat at the edge closest to the door, opposite to where Harry sat with the girl. His girl. You thought bitterly, taking a big sip from your cup and cringing at the strong taste.

There was a speech you didn’t pay much attention to before they started the film, only giving a slight smile when you realized the mention of your name. 

Before you knew it, the lights were out and your face took over the screen. 

It was harder than you thought it would be.  Looking up at the scenes you had with Harry, knowing everything that happened behind the cameras. Knowing every touch and every kiss felt more than just playing a character. You knew the actual feeling of having him to yourself. But now staring at it right in front of you, it just left a sour taste in your mouth. 

You finished your drink barely ten minutes into the film, the feeling of your chest aching starting to become overwhelming as you watched your shared kiss on the big screen. You could feel your throat close once more, your eyes watering a bit.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you whispered to Nia sitting next to you, who gave you a sympathetic smile as you got up. You glimpsed quickly to Harry who had his eyes trained on you, the girl next to him leaning to whisper something in his ear.

You could feel the tears falling down stubbornly as you left the room. Standing in the hallway, you made the decision to turn to the front door instead of the back, not wanting to face anyone with reddish eyes.

You left the house, picking your phone with shaky hands as you managed to call a ride home, sighing in relief as your screen told you it was just about three minutes away.

You heard the door open behind you as stood on the sidewalk hugging yourself to get some warmth on the chilly night. You tried your best to swallow back your tears as you turned around, expecting to find Nia looking at you with pitiful eyes. 

To your surprise, the person standing there was Harry, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as he took in your tearful eyes. He spoke your name in a soft voice, causing you to look away.

“Don’t-” you interrupted, raising your hand at him, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

He frowned at you, not wanting to upset you more. “I’m sorry,” he hesitated, taking a step forward.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, as you watched your ride pulling in front of you. You looked back at him, “I’m sorry too,” you said before moving to enter the car. 

You spared him one last glance through the window as the driver pulled away.