#i've been thinking about it every morning

[somanystars]

"Well...this explains a lot."

A blinked, gun wavering for a moment before he tightened his grip. In response, B raised his hands higher, resting his palms on his head.

"What?"

"I mean. My guess was ADHD. For all the...random knowledge you've got."

"Why would that explain it?"

"Well, why do you think I know so much about mushrooms?" B asked, waving to the one "Types of Mushrooms" poster that had looked nice enough to come with him to college despite the hyper fixation fading years ago. A, astonishingly, did glance at the poster. B shrugged. "Figured you had a phase like that for lockpicking."

"How do you know about the lock picking?"

"I lock the room every night before I sleep?" B said. "Yet you're still here the next morning."

"I use my key."

"No, you don't," B said. "Switched the keys a while ago. I wanted to test my hypothesis."

Before I knew you had a gun, he didn't add.

A kept blinking at him. B could practically the cartoonish plink-plink sounds from his childhood TV shows.

"So, are you really just trained? Or do you also have ADHD?"

"Is that really your priority right now?" A demanded, waving the gun a little as if to reemphasize what he thought B should focus on.

"I mean" B began, "I guess - I thought I'd just startled you when I walked in, and once you relaxed, you'd put the gun away. I mean, I don't see how I could be your target. The only person who might want me dead is Nancy Cordez since I rejected her Valentine's Day offer. That was in like, 4th grade though. So probably not."

A cracked an incredulous smile and lowered the gun. B grinned and lowered his arms.

"So."

"So?"

"Do you have ADHD?"

A's eyes darted away. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean. I guess I suspect sometimes. I dunno."

"So that's a yes then," B said, clapping his hands together. "I knew it."

"Dude."

"What? No one else here has it. No one I've met anyways. It's nice knowing you're not the only one"

A scoffed. "Yeah. I'm great company."

"Better than nothing."

His eyes darted away again. For an assassin, he was shy as hell. Another reason to suspect ADHD rather than assassin.

Oh well. He'd still been half right.

Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face

[banzonism]

WE FOUND LOVE (In a Hopeless Place)

one-shot story

pairing: ceo!jk x fashion model!reader

genre: romance, fluff, drama, comedy, slight enemies to lover, friends to lovers

synopsis: In a string of chance encounters, two people from wildly different worlds, find themselves inexplicably drawn to one another. Maybe the universe has been orchestrating something all along. In a swirl of laughter, longing, and love, they begin to wonder if they’ve finally found what they didn’t even know they were searching for. The beauty of emerging from brokenness, love blossoming in the least expected circumstances, proving that sometimes, even in the most hopeless places, love has a way of finding you.

words count: 8.6k

notes: this is my first one shot jjk ff ahhh i've been thinking about this plot for a while bc of that one jungkook pic above hehe anyway enjoy reading <3

Las Vegas.

Being a fashion model is a balancing act. It’s not just about walking runways or posing for editorial spreads. It’s late nights rehearsing a flawless walk, early mornings enduring hours of hair and makeup, and constant flights between fashion capitals. I’m not a household name like some models, I’ve made my mark. Campaigns for high-end brands, covers on major fashion magazines, and being a regular on exclusive runways have earned me recognition. My career is steady—not overwhelming but enough to keep me in rooms where champagne flows freely and the conversation sparkles.

Tonight was one of those nights.

I had been invited by Jung Hoseok, a longtime friend and one of the most talented designers I know, to celebrate his latest collection's success. The show had been a triumph, and I was one of the faces of his collection, walking the Vegas runway in his stunning designs. His exclusive afterparty was being held at a swanky bar—one of those places where entry was practically currency itself.

I smoothed the fabric of my dress, a slinky black piece by Versace, clinging to me in all the right places. Its thigh-high slit revealed just enough leg to make heads turn without screaming trying too hard. My hair fell effortlessly in soft waves, and my Louboutin heels clicked against the pavement as I arrived.

The air was electric when I walked in. Crystal chandeliers hung like jewels from the ceiling, the bar gleamed under dim lights, and the room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. Hoseok, in his signature vibrant suit, caught sight of me and immediately waved me over.

“Y/N!” he beamed, pulling me into a hug. “You look stunning as always.”

“Thank you! And congratulations, Hobi. The show was incredible,” I said earnestly. “Every single piece was a masterpiece. You’ve outdone yourself.”

His grin widened. “You’re too kind, but coming from you, it means the world.”

We settled into easy conversation, sipping on champagne as the night unfolded. Hoseok glowed with pride—not just from the success of his show, but also from something more personal. I raised an eyebrow when he let slip he’d been in a healthy relationship.

“Six months, huh?” I teased. “That’s practically married in fashion industry terms!”

He laughed, his grin wide. “I know, right? But she’s amazing. Keeps me grounded, calls me out when I’m being too extra—which is all the time, obviously.”

I smirked, leaning back in my chair. “That’s got to be the longest relationship you’ve ever had, right? Should we celebrate that too?”

Hoseok gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like I’d just wounded him. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’ve had plenty of long relationships!”

“Oh, really? Name one.” I raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying his flustered expression.

“Well…” He paused, clearly scrambling. “There was… uh…”

“That’s what I thought.” I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s okay, Hobi. We’re all proud of you for finally breaking your three-month streak.”

“You’re impossible,” he grumbled, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Maybe I should start giving you relationship advice now, since I’m apparently the expert.”

“Oh, please,” I snorted. “You’re one more text away from being whipped, and we both know it.”

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, holding his hands up. “When are you going to get yourself a man? I’m going to find you someone tonight.”

“Good luck with that,” I muttered, taking another sip of champagne.

“No, I’m serious!” Hoseok leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re gorgeous, successful, and you have taste. What’s the holdup?”

“It’s not that simple,” I replied, sipping my champagne.

“Then let’s make it simple. Tonight’s mission: find Y/N a man,” he declared, clapping his hands together.

“Absolutely not,” I said, laughing.

“Too late. It’s happening.”

He scanned the crowd dramatically, his finger wagging like a radar. “Alright, what about him?”

I followed his gaze to a tall guy nursing a whiskey at the bar. “Probably taken.”

Hoseok squinted. “How can you possibly tell?”

“Look at his hand,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes zeroed in, and then he groaned. “Oh a ring? Seriously? Why do the good ones always come pre-owned?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Because they’ve been snatched up by people who don’t need their friend matchmaking at parties.”

“Rude,” Hoseok shot back, feigning offense. “I’m doing God’s work here.”

“That guy in the navy suit?”

“Too old.”

“Alright, what about tall and brooding over there?”

“Not my type.”

Hoseok sighed theatrically. “You’re impossible.”

Before I could retort, a shift in the room’s energy caught my attention. The chatter quieted for a moment, heads turned, and the air thickened with a sense of presence. That’s when I saw him.

He stood at the entrance, effortlessly commanding attention in a tailored black suit that hugged his frame perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, a single strand rebelliously falling onto his forehead. His sharp jawline and piercing gaze were enough to make anyone look twice—or three times.

“Wow,” Hoseok whispered beside me, fanning himself. “Now that’s a head-turner.”

I couldn’t disagree. The man was magnetic in a way few people were.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” Hoseok teased, nudging me.

“I am not!” I protested, though my cheeks betrayed me.

“You are. And you know what this means,” he said, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“You’re going to talk to him.”

I laughed nervously. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N, come on! Look at him. This is fate handing you a golden opportunity,” Hoseok insisted.

“I don’t even know him!”

“That’s the point. Go introduce yourself. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I hesitated, and Hoseok seized his chance. “I bet you can’t do it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re betting on this now?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t talk to him, I’m telling everyone here that you chickened out.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, darling. Now, go,” he said, practically pushing me out of my seat.

I took a deep breath, heart pounding as I glanced at the man again. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, before landing briefly on me. Our eyes met, and a spark of something unspoken passed between us.

Fine. I could do this. For the sake of my pride—and to shut Hoseok up—I adjusted my dress, squared my shoulders, and took a step forward.

The night was just beginning.

I took a deep breath as I made my way to him. He was seated near the bar, his profile sharp under the dim lighting, exuding an aura that screamed untouchable. His drink sat untouched on the counter, his focus distant, like he was counting down the seconds until he could leave.

Alright, Y/N, you’ve got this. Just be charming. Flirty. Casual. How hard can it be?

Clearing my throat softly, I slid onto the barstool beside him. “You know,” I started with a smirk, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

He slowly turned his head to look at me, his brow arching in what could only be described as mild annoyance. “Excuse me?”

I faltered but quickly recovered. “I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business.”

My mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” His tone was flat, but the words stung.

“That’s not—” I sputtered, now feeling defensive. “Okay, you know what? Never mind. Clearly, I misread the vibe. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

I turned on my heel, heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and fury as I stormed back to Hoseok.

“You’re back already?” he asked, smirking as he handed me a fresh glass of champagne. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said sarcastically, collapsing onto the couch beside him. “Just got verbally smacked by the guy you insisted I talk to.”

Hoseok burst out laughing. “What did he say?”

“That I don’t know how to mind my own business!”

Hoseok clutched his stomach, tears forming in his eyes. “Oh, my God, Y/N, what did you say to him?”

“Nothing bad! I was just trying to be friendly. He’s the one with the stick up his—”

Before I could finish, I noticed the man leaving the bar. He walked toward the exit with the same quiet, commanding air he had when he entered. No goodbyes, no lingering. Just a clean getaway.

“Whatever,” I muttered. “He’s clearly not a fan of parties—or people.”

“Fair,” Hoseok said, still chuckling as two familiar faces joined us. Jihyo and Sana, fellow models and the unofficial queens of industry gossip, flopped onto the couch with the kind of grace only models could manage.

“What’s so funny?” Sana asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as if she were still mid-photo shoot.

“Y/N just got spectacularly shut down by the Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok declared, barely containing his laughter.

I turned to him sharply. “Wait, you know him?”

Jihyo’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between Hoseok and me. “Hold on, that Jungkook? CEO of Resorts International?”

“Oh, that’s his name,” I muttered, sinking further into my seat. “Explains a lot. The guy’s got all the charm of a brick wall.”

“More like a brick wall covered in barbed wire,” Sana quipped, her brows raising dramatically. “I’ve heard he’s impossible to approach—unless you’re an accountant or a cocktail waitress.”

Sana chimed in, leaning forward like she was about to spill state secrets. “You’ve heard the rumors, right? Cold-hearted, doesn’t talk to anyone unless he has to, and supposedly—” she lowered her voice dramatically, “—he’s got a different girl in his bed every week.”

Jihyo nodded sagely. “I’ve heard the same. He’s all business, no warmth. Probably because he grew up as an only child with more money than he knew what to do with.”

Hoseok snorted. “To be fair, you did call him a loner to his face.”

“I didn’t call him a loner! I implied it,” I defended. “Big difference.”

The three of them burst into laughter, and I couldn’t help but join in despite my bruised ego.

“Well,” I sighed dramatically, raising my glass, “here’s to tonight. Not exactly my lucky night in the romance department.”

“Hey, it’s Vegas,” Hoseok said, clinking his glass against mine. “Plenty of fish in the sea. Just… maybe avoid the sharks next time.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I took a sip. If nothing else, at least I had good company to cushion my failed attempts at flirting.

Jeon Jungkook had lived his entire life under a spotlight, but it wasn’t the kind that most people would envy. As the only son of Jeon Hyunwoo, the founder of Resorts International, one of the world’s leading gaming and hospitality empires, Jungkook was groomed for success before he could even spell the word. He’d grown up surrounded by glitzy hotel openings, exclusive business meetings, and lavish galas where every handshake could seal a deal worth millions.

When his father announced his retirement three months ago, handing over the CEO reins to Jungkook, the world collectively held its breath. The media speculated endlessly: Would the golden boy live up to his father’s legacy? Was he ready for the challenge?

Jungkook had proven them all wrong. In just three months, he’d already started modernizing the company’s operations, implementing eco-friendly initiatives, and streamlining inefficiencies. But despite his achievements, his reputation among those outside the boardroom was less favorable.

“Cold-hearted.”

“Unapproachable.”

“Stone-faced heir.”

The whispers followed him everywhere, branding him as someone impossible to know, let alone love. In reality, Jungkook wasn’t cold—just guarded. Growing up without siblings or close confidants had shaped him into someone who found comfort in solitude. His reserved nature wasn’t a symptom of arrogance, but rather a quiet reflection of how overwhelming his life had become.

Beneath the sharp suits and calculated demeanor was a man who loved simple pleasures: sketching in his notebook, playing the piano, or indulging in late-night gaming sessions. But no one saw that side of him—not his colleagues, not the socialites clamoring for his attention, and certainly not the father who believed his son’s life wasn’t complete without a wife.

Jungkook’s friend Kim Taehyung, the eccentric owner of one of the hottest luxury fashion brands, had practically dragged him to this afterparty. Taehyung had a knack for throwing events that were equal parts exclusive and chaotic, and tonight was no exception.

“You need to loosen up,” Taehyung had said earlier, handing Jungkook a glass of champagne. “You’ve been running that empire of yours like a man possessed. It’s a party, not a shareholders’ meeting.”

“I’m not really in the mood, Tae,” Jungkook replied, scanning the room full of strangers.

“Of course, you’re not,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. “But you’re staying. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting tonight.”

Jungkook sighed. Taehyung was relentless.

The truth was, he wasn’t just tired from work. His father had been on his case again earlier that day, pressing him to start dating.

“You’re the face of this company now, Jungkook. People look up to you. It’s time you settled down.”

“Dad, I’ve been CEO for three months. I’m focusing on stabilizing the company,” Jungkook had argued.

“Excuses. You’re hiding behind work because you’re afraid of commitment,” his father shot back.

The argument had left a sour taste in Jungkook’s mouth. Relationships weren’t on his radar right now. He wasn’t against the idea entirely, but the thought of being with someone when he could barely keep his own life in order felt irresponsible.

Jungkook slipped away from the main floor and into the restroom, taking a moment to breathe. The thrum of the party dulled behind the heavy door, and for a few minutes, he could pretend he wasn’t Jungkook Jeon, CEO of Resorts International.

He leaned against the counter, staring at his reflection. You don’t have to stay long. Just make an appearance, then leave. It’s fine.

When he returned to the party, Taehyung intercepted him immediately.

“Where were you hiding?” Taehyung teased, clinking his glass against Jungkook’s.

“Just needed a break,” Jungkook replied. “I was actually about to head out.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Taehyung’s grin widened mischievously. “You can’t leave without at least trying to have some fun. Find someone to talk to. Flirt, even. You’re single, man. Enjoy it!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Guilty as charged. Now, promise me you’ll stay for at least thirty more minutes.”

“Fine. Thirty minutes,” Jungkook muttered, already regretting it.

He found himself at the bar, sipping whiskey and counting down the seconds until he could make his escape. That’s when you appeared.

“You know,” you said, sliding onto the stool beside him, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

Your tone was playful, your smile confident, but Jungkook could only muster a blank stare. Who starts a conversation like that?

“Excuse me?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type,” you continued.

The comment rubbed him the wrong way—not because it was offensive, but because it hit too close to home.

“And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business,” he replied flatly.

Your expression faltered, but only for a moment. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” he shot back.

You stood abruptly, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You know what? Never mind. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

As you walked away, Jungkook felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to come off so harsh. He was just… out of his depth.

Deciding he’d had enough, Jungkook downed the rest of his whiskey and left the bar. As he walked through the crowd, he couldn’t help but glance back at you. You were sitting with a group of friends, laughing animatedly despite their earlier exchange.

For a brief moment, Jungkook wondered if he’d made a mistake. But then, the weight of his father’s words pressed down on him again. And yet, as he walked away, your voice lingered in his mind.

The warm, familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee hit me as I stepped into my favorite café, the one I always visit whenever I’m in Vegas. Normally, this place feels like a sanctuary—a calm start to my day with a comforting latte in hand. But not today. Today, the universe seemed to have woken up and decided to toy with me.

First, I received some ridiculous news about my upcoming campaign shoot being delayed, throwing my entire schedule into chaos. Then, in my rush to storm out of the hotel, I realized too late that I’d forgotten my purse. Great.

Still, I wasn’t about to let that stop me from grabbing my usual coffee. A caffeine fix was non-negotiable.

“Medium latte, please,” I said to the barista, already picturing the soothing warmth of the cup in my hands.

“That’ll be $5.50,” he replied.

I instinctively reached into my pocket, only to come up empty. My stomach dropped. “Uh…” I glanced up sheepishly. “Okay, so funny thing—I left my wallet at my hotel. But I’m a regular here. Can I just—”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the barista interrupted, his tone clipped. “We can’t process an order without payment. Policy.”

I blinked, thrown by his sharpness. “I’m not asking for free coffee. I’ll come back and pay, I swear. You can even ask the manager—I’m here all the time.”

“I really can’t do that,” he said, looking uncomfortable but firm. “We’ve had issues before with people trying to…”

I froze. “Are you accusing me of being a scammer?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant,” he stammered, his face flushing. “It’s just…we have to be careful—”

“Careful about what?” My voice rose as irritation crept in. “About someone who forgot their wallet? I’m not exactly trying to rob you!”

The barista looked ready to melt into the floor when a low, calm voice broke through.

“I’ll pay for it.”

I turned to the source of the voice, and my breath caught.

Standing a few feet away was none other than him—Jungkook. The same Jungkook who had practically shut me down a week ago at Hoseok’s party. He looked just as composed and intimidating as before, dressed in a sleek black coat over a crisp white turtleneck, his hair perfectly tousled like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot.

He slid a bill onto the counter without a second glance in my direction. “For her latte,” he said to the barista, who nodded nervously and rushed to complete the order.

I stood there, dumbfounded.

“Wait—what are you doing?” I finally managed to ask as Jungkook turned and headed for the door.

“Paying for your coffee,” he said over his shoulder, his voice casual, like it was no big deal.

“Why?” I demanded, hurrying after him.

He paused at the entrance, looking at me with an expression that was equal parts bored and amused. “Because you looked like you needed it.”

I blinked, caught between annoyance and gratitude. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” he replied simply.

I crossed my arms, planting myself in his path. “Okay, but why? What’s the catch? Last time we talked, you made it pretty clear you don’t exactly like strangers.”

He raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to ignore me. Instead, he said, “And last time we talked, you called me a loner. So maybe I’m just returning the favor.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Wow, you really have a way with people, don’t you?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Look, if it bothers you that much, don’t think of it as charity. Think of it as me doing something nice.”

“Nicer than calling me pitiful,” I muttered under my breath, but he caught it.

His ears turned pink. “You looked like you were having a bad day,” he mumbled, suddenly avoiding my gaze.

For a moment, I just stared at him. There was something unexpectedly…endearing about how awkward he seemed. Like he wasn’t used to small talk or acts of kindness but was trying anyway.

“Well, I don’t like owing people,” I said finally. “So the next time we meet, I’ll treat you. Deal?”

Jungkook looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, to my surprise, the corners of his mouth lifted into a barely-there smile. “Sure. If we would meet again.”

He slipped out the door before I could respond, leaving me standing there with my coffee and a strange flutter in my chest.

As I took a sip of my latte, I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t the cold, untouchable man everyone made him out to be. Maybe…he was just a little awkward. And kind of sweet.

A rare break from my job was the perfect excuse to finally try something new—and for some reason, the idea of working out seemed appealing. Maybe it was the influencers I’d been scrolling past on Instagram with their perfectly toned abs, or maybe I just needed a distraction. Either way, I grabbed my phone and searched for gyms nearby.

After a few minutes of scrolling, I found a fancy spot that looked promising. The problem? I didn’t have a car. Public transportation in Vegas wasn’t exactly convenient, and walking there in this heat wasn’t an option either.

Then it hit me—I had the solution. I dialed my rich friend, Park Jimin.

Jimin picked up on the second ring, his voice as cheerful as ever. “Y/N! What’s up?”

“Hey, Jimin,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Can I borrow one of your cars? I found this gym I want to check out, but, you know…”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat. “Which one? The Lamborghini, the Porsche, or—”

“Something normal, please,” I cut in, laughing. “I just need to get there, not cause a scene.”

“Normal? What does that even mean?” Jimin teased. “Alright, I’ll send one over. Consider it done.”

We chatted for a bit longer, mostly about his upcoming projects and his love for the Vegas nightlife, until the conversation took a surprising turn.

“By the way,” Jimin said casually, like he was talking about ordering coffee, “I’m throwing a yacht party this weekend for my birthday. You have to come.”

I blinked. “A yacht party? Like... on an actual yacht?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he said, laughing. “A boat, water, champagne, music—the whole deal. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of skipping it.”

“I mean... no,” I admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed. “It’s just... I don’t think that’s really my scene. You know I’m not exactly—”

“Not exactly what?” he pressed, his tone growing curious.

I hesitated, then sighed. “Well... out of your league?”

“Out of your league?” Jimin repeated, his voice turning sharp, almost offended. “Don’t be ridiculous. I invited you because you’re one of my closest friends. You and Hoseok.”

Ah, Hoseok—the reason I’d met Jimin in the first place. Back when I’d started in the fashion industry, Hoseok had introduced me to his best friend, and Jimin had been an instant ally: warm, funny, and, despite his wealth, incredibly down-to-earth.

“You’re sure I won’t be awkwardly out of place?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

Jimin snorted. “Awkward? You? This is coming from someone who had zero shame asking to borrow one of my cars five minutes ago.”

I burst out laughing. “Okay, you got me there.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone softening now. “Listen, I only invited people I trust—people I actually like. You’ll have Hoseok there too. It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

And just like that, I could feel the tension melting away. “Alright,” I said, smiling. “Count me in. But if I trip and fall into the ocean, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Jimin’s laughter rang out like a promise. “Deal. But I’m making you wear a life jacket just in case. The car should be pulling up any minute.”

As if on cue, I heard the unmistakable sound of a sleek engine pulling into the driveway. I peeked out the window and shook my head, smiling. Jimin’s idea of “normal” turned out to be a shiny black Tesla.

“Your chariot awaits,” Jimin said playfully before hanging up.

Grabbing my bag, I headed out the door and slid into the luxurious interior. I had to admit, the excitement was starting to build—not just for the workout but for the yacht party. Maybe this was exactly the kind of escape I needed. After all, life had a way of surprising me when I least expected it.

The gym was buzzing with energy as I powered through my workout routine. The rhythmic thud of weights dropping and faint music filled the air, and I was in the zone—completely focused. By the time I moved to cool down, my muscles felt like jelly, but the satisfying kind.

I reached for my water bottle and lowered the volume of my earbuds, the background hum of the gym suddenly sharper. That’s when I heard it—a loud, frustrated, “Shit, what the hell just happened?”

Intrigued, I glanced over. There he was: broad-shouldered, standing by a bench, holding a phone that looked like it had lost a fight with a sledgehammer.

It took me a second to process, but when I did, the recognition hit. “Oh, it’s you again!” I blurted out, my mouth moving faster than my brain.

He looked up, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. “Yeah, it’s me again,” he said flatly, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke by orchestrating our third meeting.

“What happened?” I asked, biting back a grin as I nodded toward the carnage in his hand. “I heard something break.”

He sighed, holding up the mangled device. “My phone. It fell while I was working out, and I didn’t see it. Then the dumbbell… well, the dumbbell saw it.”

That was all it took for me to lose it. I laughed, clutching my stomach as Jungkook’s expression shifted from annoyed to downright offended.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry!” I managed to say between giggles. “But how do you not notice your phone on the floor? Were you that focused?”

“It was an accident!” he shot back, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t exactly planning to obliterate my phone today.”

“Alright, alright,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender, though the grin stayed firmly in place. “What’s your plan now? Or are you stuck in this gym forever?”

He looked at his watch. “I’ll figure it out. I can call my secretary through this,” he said, tapping the screen.

“Wait,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “I’ll help you out.”

Jungkook blinked, clearly taken aback. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll drive you,” I offered, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I still owe you one from the café incident, remember?”

For a moment, he looked skeptical. “You? Drive me?”

“Yes, me. I’m perfectly capable of driving, thank you very much,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “Unless, of course, you’d rather sit here like a helpless damsel waiting for your secretary to swoop in and save you.”

Jungkook let out a reluctant sigh, finally we stepping toward the black Tesla.

“Nice ride,” he remarked casually. I snorted. If only he knew.

As I unlocked the doors, my eyes betrayed me for a moment, flickering toward him. He was the epitome of effortless cool—lean but undeniably sculpted, the kind of build that spoke of hours at the gym but never looked overdone. His plain black tank top clung to his shoulders, revealing toned arms and just a teasing glimpse of a tattoo curling around his bicep. The joggers he wore hung low on his hips, paired with sneakers that looked both practical and trendy. His hair was tousled in that perfect I woke up like this way, and the faint glint of a lip piercing added an edge that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

“You know, if you’re going to stare, at least make it subtle,” his voice broke through my thoughts, his lips tugging into an amused smirk.

I blinked, heat creeping up my neck. “I wasn’t—” I started, but his raised eyebrow silenced me.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “So, do I pass your inspection?”

“Inspection?” I scoffed, regaining my composure. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled as he slid into the passenger seat, leaving me muttering under my breath as I got behind the wheel. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly smug and good-looking?

Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “Anyway, do you want breakfast? My treat.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “Breakfast? With you?”

“Relax,” I said with a laugh. “I’m not proposing or anything. It’s just food. You eat, don’t you?”

He hesitated, his expression a mix of skepticism and mild intrigue. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But only because I don’t have a better option.”

By the time we pulled up to the restaurant, he still seemed wary, like he couldn’t quite figure out if I was serious or setting him up for something. But as we stepped inside, I noticed him sneaking a glance at me, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, with a soft golden glow from the lights and a gentle hum of chatter in the background. Jungkook and I sat across from each other, separated by what felt like an ocean of awkward silence. I buried my nose in the menu, pretending to deliberate over my choices, but really just trying to distract myself from his presence, which seemed to take up way more space than it should.

Once the waiter took our orders, the quiet felt unbearable. I swirled the straw in my glass like it was the most fascinating thing in the world and finally broke the silence. “So… are you, like, the CEO of your company or something?”

He raised an eyebrow, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” I said a little too quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. “Just making conversation.”

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that’s almost more of an exhale. “Not very subtle, are you?”

Before I could retort, he suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowing at my phone case. “Wait a minute… is that Gojo?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, why?”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “You watch that anime?

“Do I not look like someone who would watch anime?”

“Well, you don’t exactly give off weeb vibes.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Excuse me, I’m a proud fan of Gojo Satoru. Who wouldn’t be?”

His face lit up. “No way. Gojo’s my favorite too.”

“Of course, he’s everyone’s favorite,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “But don’t even start about his… you know…”

“Death?” he finished, wincing. “Yeah, that wrecked me. Don’t remind me.”

We spent a solid ten minutes geeking out over our shared love for the character, bouncing theories off each other like we’d known each other for years. It was so ridiculous, but for once, the awkward tension melted away.

“See?” I said, grinning. “I’m not that bad.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I never said you were bad. Just… unexpected.”

“Unexpected? Like when I tried to flirt with you that night?” I teased. “And you took it the wrong way?”

His eyes widened, caught off guard. For a moment, it felt like the air between us shifted, but before I could process it, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, about that night…” His tone softened, and his gaze dropped to the table. “I wanted to apologize. I wasn’t exactly… polite.”

I blinked. “Wait, you’re apologizing? Like, a real apology?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, I was having a bad day.”

Curiosity got the better of me. “What kind of bad day makes you snap at random strangers?”

Jungkook hesitated, fidgeting with his fork.

Sensing his discomfort, I leaned back, trying to ease the tension. “You don’t have to answer. I mean, we’re not exactly close or anything.”

For a moment, I thought he might dodge the question, but then he sighed. “My dad’s been pressuring me to settle down. You know, get serious, date someone, think about marriage.”

That threw me for a loop. “Wait, what? You’re Jungkook—the Jungkook. Aren’t you supposed to be, like, the king of eligible bachelors or something? I mean… don’t you have a line of people falling at your feet?”

He laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. “You’d think, huh? But the truth is, I do… mess around, sure, but nothing serious. It’s not exactly what my dad wants to hear.”

I stared at him, genuinely surprised. “So… you’re telling me all those rumors about you sleeping around are true?”

“Somewhat true,” he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. “But they’re exaggerated. Not that it matters, though. My dad doesn’t care about the details—he just wants results.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “Wow. And here I was thinking you were out there breaking hearts left and right. Turns out, you’re just another guy dealing with family drama.”

“Guess we all have our struggles,” he said, a bit ruefully.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a small sigh. “You know, I get it. All my friends are pairing up, getting engaged, or having babies, and here I am... still single. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”

Jungkook tilted his head, his expression softening in a way that made my heart skip just a little. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “You’re just waiting for the right person. Life isn’t a race, you know? Everyone’s clock is different.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Wow, that’s... surprisingly profound coming from you.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I have layers, you know. Like an onion.”

I snorted. “Well, thanks, Shrek. But really, I appreciate it.”

“I think you’re doing just fine. No one has it all figured out—not even me.”

“Oh, trust me, that part was obvious,” I teased, earning a laugh from him.

I swirled my nearly-empty glass of water, feeling a bit more comfortable now.

“You know, Jungkook, I think we might’ve actually been friends if our first impressions of each other weren’t so... well, awful.”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Yeah, maybe. But then again, where’s the fun in starting off on good terms?”

“Touché,” I said, rolling my eyes, though I couldn’t help but smile.

I didn’t realize how much time had passed until the waiter cleared his throat, his third time checking in on us.

“Oh wow,” I said, glancing at the time. “We’ve been here for over an hour. That’s, uh, new.”

Jungkook looked just as surprised. “Guess we’re better at this talking thing than I thought.”

As we left the restaurant, the crisp morning air hit us, and Jungkook glanced at his watch. “My secretary’s on the way. Thanks for the ride and breakfast, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said, waving it off. “Consider it payback for the café incident, you know”

As his car pulled up, he paused and glanced back at me. “This was... nice. Surprisingly nice, actually.”

“Agreed,” I said with a grin. “You’re not as big of a jerk as I thought.”

“And you’re not as... well, annoying as I first assumed,” he shot back, his lips curling into a teasing smile.

“Oh, I’m absolutely annoying. Just not to you. Yet.”

He chuckled, opening the car door. “See you when I see you.”

“Or see you never,” I teased, crossing my arms.

He smirked before stepping inside. I watched as his car disappeared down the street, feeling an odd mix of amusement and curiosity swirling in my chest. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what I expected—but something told me it wouldn’t be the last time our paths crossed.

It was the weekend, and Jimin’s birthday had finally arrived. I’d spent all morning preparing, carefully selecting the perfect dress—a chic yet comfortable outfit that struck just the right balance between effortless and elegant. Jimin had assured me that one of his drivers would pick me up, so I didn’t have to worry about transportation. Classic Jimin, always taking care of everything.

The car pulled up to the dock where we were all supposed to gather before boarding the yacht. The venue was buzzing with an understated elegance—soft lights twinkling above, the gentle murmur of waves against the pier, and a cluster of well-dressed guests milling about. Among them, I spotted Hoseok chatting animatedly with his girlfriend. As always, Hoseok radiated charm, while his girlfriend was effortlessly stunning, perfectly complementing his energy.

I also noticed Taehyung, one of Jimin’s close friends. We weren’t exactly close, but we’d met a few times at events. With his striking features and magnetic aura, Taehyung always managed to make his presence known without even trying.

Before the yacht was set to leave, I decided to find Jimin to wish him a happy birthday. However, as I approached, I noticed him pacing near the edge of the dock, phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of frustration and exasperation. His voice carried easily over the sound of the water.

“Bro, where are you? You’re the only one not here!” Jimin said, his tone sharp but laced with concern. There was a pause, presumably while the person on the other end responded, and then Jimin huffed.

“I swear, I’m gonna tell your mom about this, and she’ll whoop your ass for bailing on my party,” he threatened, though there was an amused edge to his voice. “You’re such a workaholic. Dude, you need to relax for once in your life.”

With that, he ended the call, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair before noticing me standing nearby.

“Oh, hey! Happy birthday Jimin!” I greeted, I stepped closer to hug him. His frustration melted away into his signature warm smile.

“Just an old friend giving me little trouble, something like that,” he said with a sigh, before flashing a grin. “But enough about that. You look amazing. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Now, you better enjoy your night—it’s your birthday, after all.”

“Working on it,” he said with a laugh before we parted ways.

I wandered back toward Hoseok and his girlfriend, joining their lively conversation about the upcoming festivities. Taehyung had drifted into the group, his dry wit adding a humorous edge to the chatter. The minutes passed quickly, and before we knew it, the yacht began to move. The gentle rocking of the boat, paired with the sparkling city lights fading into the distance, set the perfect tone for what promised to be an unforgettable night.

Jungkook leaned back in his office chair, running a hand through his already-messy hair. His desk was cluttered with files, reports, and his laptop—remnants of a day that seemed to stretch forever. He felt a pang of guilt knowing he’d be late to Jimin’s party. Jimin wasn’t just any friend; their bond went way back to childhood, forged through their parents’ business ties and countless summers spent together. Yet here he was, always caught up in work, unable to prioritize his personal life. His mother’s nagging voice echoed in his head: "You should spend more time with your friends. Life isn’t all about work, Jungkook."

The guilt doubled when Jimin called earlier, threatening to tattle to his mom if he didn’t show up. Jungkook could almost hear the smirk in Jimin’s voice. With a resigned sigh, Jungkook finally wrapped up his work and rummaged through his closet. He settled on a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a sleek blazer that gave off an effortless yet polished vibe. After all, he couldn’t turn up to a yacht party looking like he just crawled out of a spreadsheet.

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook arrived at the dock just as the yacht began to drift away. The warm glow of lights from the boat reflected off the water, and the sound of laughter and music carried across the night air. He stepped on board, quickly spotting Jimin near the bar.

“Finally!” Jimin exclaimed, pulling Jungkook into a brief hug. “I was about to call your mom again.”

“Don’t start,” Jungkook replied, smirking. “Work ran late.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but grinned. “Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters. Come on, let's have fun.”

The two talked for a while, catching up on life and sharing stories. Despite Jimin’s attempts to nudge him toward mingling, Jungkook remained firmly rooted in the comfort of familiarity, sticking close to Jimin and occasionally chatting with Taehyung, another long-time friend.

Meanwhile, you found yourself in a different dilemma. After spending most of the evening with Hoseok and his girlfriend, the couple’s dynamic started to feel a bit suffocating. As much as you adored Hoseok, third-wheeling wasn’t exactly your idea of fun. Deciding you needed some air, you excused yourself and wandered toward the deck, the cool breeze a welcome escape from the noise and chatter.

The yacht had stopped, its anchor dropped in a calm, picturesque spot surrounded by glittering city lights on the horizon. The music from inside was still audible but muffled, creating an oddly serene atmosphere.

As you leaned against the railing, staring out at the water, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned your head slightly and froze. There he was—Jungkook. The man who had somehow become a recurring character in your life. His presence was almost magnetic, his sharp features softened by the moonlight. He caught sight of you and hesitated for a moment before walking closer.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice low but carrying easily over the quiet.

You raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same about you. Late to the party?”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, work. As usual.”

You nodded, not entirely surprised. “Let me guess—you’re one of Jimin’s childhood friends?”

“Guilty,” he admitted, leaning on the railing beside you. “And you? How do you know him?”

“Hoseok introduced us,” you replied. “He’s the reason I’m here tonight. Well, that and Jimin being very convincing.”

Jungkook smirked. “Sounds about right. Jimin’s good at getting what he wants.”

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment, the distant hum of music blending with the gentle lapping of waves. The two of you weren’t exactly friends, but there was something strangely natural about standing there together.

Jungkook turned his head, his gaze meeting yours. “You’re not exactly blending into the crowd yourself. What are you doing out here?”

You hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “Third-wheeling gets old fast. Thought I’d escape for a bit.”

“Fair enough,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Guess we’re both out of place here.”

The night air was cool and crisp as you and Jungkook leaned against the railings on the quieter side of the yacht. The party was still in full swing on the other side, music and laughter drifting faintly in the background, but here, it felt like you had the world to yourselves. The stars above shimmered in the dark sky, reflected perfectly in the calm water below.

“I just realized,” you said, breaking the peaceful silence, “this is the fourth time we’ve bumped into each other. Is the universe trying to tell us something?”

Jungkook glanced at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Like what?”

You grinned, the words tumbling out before you could stop yourself. “That maybe I’m the girl you’ve been waiting for.”

His eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard. “Wow, you don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, laughing softly. “Why should I? Life’s too short for games.” You hesitated for a moment, then confessed, “Besides, I’ve been thinking about you. A lot more than I probably should.”

Jungkook blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. “You’re… straightforward.”

You smirked, playfully nudging his arm. “And you’re stating the obvious. Look, all I’m saying is, I don’t mind hanging out with you. You’re nice to be around.”

What you didn’t know was that Jungkook’s mind was a swirl of thoughts. He wasn’t going to admit it outright, but you’d been on his mind too. Something about you had stayed with him—the way you spoke your mind, the easy banter, and the way you didn’t seem fazed by who he was.

But before he could respond, you straightened up abruptly, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you’d just been. “Okay, wow, that was a lot. I’m blaming the alcohol I had earlier,” you muttered, your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

You took a step back, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but the slight sway of the yacht threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment, you teetered on the edge.

“Whoa!” Jungkook reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back just in time.

“Thanks,” you managed, breathless and slightly shaken. But before either of you could regain your footing, the yacht gave a sudden, unexpected lurch.

It all happened in slow motion. One moment, you were staring at Jungkook, his hand still gripping your arm; the next, both of you were tumbling over the railing. The cold water hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs as you splashed into the dark ocean.

The cold, salty water surrounded you as you struggled to catch your breath, disoriented from the fall. But before panic could fully set in, you felt a strong, reassuring presence beside you. Jungkook's hand reached out, and his voice was calm but urgent.

"Are you okay?" His eyes searched yours, his face just inches from yours, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blinked, feeling a sudden rush of warmth in your chest despite the chill of the water. "I-uh, I am not really a good swimmer," you confessed, your voice shaky.

Jungkook didn't miss a beat. His hand gripped your arm, his touch firm but gentle. "It's okay. Just stay calm. Hold on to me," he instructed, his tone steady, like he had done this a hundred times before.

And for the first time, you were so close to him- closer than you ever thought possible. His face was so... beautiful. The rainwater trickled down his sharp jawline, the moonlight making his features look even more defined. His dark hair, now wet and tousled, framed his face perfectly.

You couldn't help but stare, the way his piercing glinted in the dim light making him look even more striking. How could someone look so perfect, so effortlessly attractive? With a body that was both strong and lean, and that face-it was hard to believe he was actually single. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring how impossibly hot he looked, even with water dripping from his face.

You found yourself almost mesmerized by his lips- those full, kissable lips. Your thoughts started to wander, and before you could stop yourself, you asked the question that had been swirling in your mind.

"Can I kiss you?"

There was a brief pause, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he gave you a small, playful smile. But before you could process it, his lips were on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, testing the waters, so to speak. But then, something shifted. The chemistry that had been building between you two since the first moment you met exploded in an instant.

The kiss deepened, and neither of you hesitated. The sound of the waves lapping against the yacht, the cool water surrounding you, all faded into the background. All that mattered was the heat of his lips against yours, the way he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together in the water.

And it wasn't just you who had been thinking about this. Jungkook had been wanting this, too. The way you'd smiled at him, the way you weren't afraid to speak your mind-it had kept him awake at night, wondering what it would be like to kiss you.

Now that you were here, tangled in the water, neither of you wanted to pull away. Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him, the connection between you both undeniable, magnetic. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely in sync.

It was messy, it was raw, but it was perfect. Just the two of you, lost in the moment.

Jungkook pulled back slightly, both of you still floating in the water. His eyes held a certain intensity, the kind of look that could make your heart race.

"You know," he began, his voice surprisingly soft despite the wild rush of emotions, "I've been thinking about you a lot too. More than I care to admit."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart fluttering. The confession was unexpected, yet somehow not. Maybe you’d both been feeling this pull, this magnetic force drawing you closer, even without saying it out loud.

"So, what now?" You smirked, the water now lapping against your skin as you held onto him. "I'm waiting."

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "Waiting for what?" he asked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

"Duh," you laughed softly, your voice teasing. "Waiting for you to ask me out."

Jungkook’s laughter rang out, warm and rich, his smile growing wider. "Oh, right," he said, pausing for effect. "I guess that would be nice, wouldn’t it?"

You both chuckled, the sound echoing into the night air. It felt so natural, this banter, this undeniable chemistry between you.

“I can’t believe this. Of all the things that could happen…”

“You had to save me, and then we both fell into the ocean,” you finished, chuckling despite yourself.

“Well, if the universe really is giving us signs, it’s not being subtle,” he teased, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Yeah, no kidding,” you said, grinning.

Before the moment could stretch any further, you both heard a loud shout from above.

"Y/N! Jungkook! Are you two alright?!"

It was Jimin's voice, and it snapped you both back to reality. Jungkook rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath. "Looks like we’ve got an audience," he muttered, before holding onto you tighter. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

As the yacht crew rushed to rescue you, the gravity of the moment settled in. You had no idea where this connection would lead, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe—just maybe—you’d found something real.

end.

[yanderedrabbles]

I’m 🐰 Anon >:3

How would the yandere boys act with a reader that has body dysphoria? A reader who starves herself (I’m going through a hard moment and really wanted to know how they wound react, I wanted, you know, some comfort maybe-)

Oh baby, I'm so sorry. I know exactly how much ana sucks when she comes to visit. But don't worry, the boys will try their best. Unfortunately, their best isn't always very smart.

Skin and Bones - yandere boys when you won't eat

Yandere! Cowboy is predictably mean about it. He'll tug at the hem of your sundress and say he doesn't give a damn how your clothes fit, as long as you keep taking them off for him. At night, he'll bury his face between your thighs and nip at the tender flesh. "You're mine - your pretty cunt, your pretty smile, your pretty body. You don't get to starve what's mine, got it?"

Safe to say, he watches you like a hawk after that. At every meal, he makes sure your plate is sparkling clean. And if you even think about throwing up, he'll have his belt off in a second to teach you a hard lesson about abusing his property.

Yandere! Soldier thinks you're doing it to piss him off. "What? You're worried about being heavy?" He'll grab your waist and toss you over his shoulder in one smooth move, like you weigh even less than his gear. Smack your ass and say that no matter what you weigh, nothing can stop him from throwing you around.

"Now stop insulting me. съесть что-нибудь."

And eat something.

Yandere! Boyfriend understands better than you'd think. He cooks you something incredibly healthy and low calorie, a safe food. He'll stand behind you as you push it around your plate, his chin resting on your head and his fingers kneading your thighs. "C'mon baby, just a little bite?" He'll promise that if you finish it, he'll eat up too. And he doesn't mean food.

Yandere! Incubus notices it when he comes to you at night. He's attuned to every part of you in a way only demons can be. You're hungry, you're ravenous and there's some dark ugliness festering at the heart of it. In the morning, the handsome young priest stops at your table and tells you that you've been looking ill lately, that you should definitely eat some more. He'll tug at his rosary and remind you, "When the flesh hungers, so does the soul."

Yandere! Desert Bandit doesn't understand it. Food is hard to come by, so why are you turning it down? When you explain it to him, he scoffs. "The desert sent you to me. Why would I want to change such a precious gift?"

If you insist on being stubborn, he'll lunge at you and wrestle you under him.

"I've dreamt of you, just as you are."

Maybe he can show you exactly how perfect you are to him and if not...He can always hold you down and feed you himself.

Yandere! Academic Rival will order a ton of expensive dishes and have them delivered right to his apartment. Everything you've ever mentioned wanting to try. He'll rest a fork at your lips and smirk at you. And be suffocatingly condescending when he says, "I thought you were smarter than this. Now open up and prove me right."

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In honor of @littlepaws9's birthday, we will pretend the break-up never happened... this is very short and hopefully as fluffy as you like your BuckTommy ;)

............................................................................................................................

"I wanna take you out tomorrow," Buck breathes into Tommy's ear, half-hidden from the bedsheet. 

The answer is a mere grunt, he takes it as approval.

"It's a nice restaurant," he continues to chatter, "a bit outside of town, not so fancy, pretty cozy, I think you'll like it."

Squinting, Tommy questions his pillow with a muffled, "Tomorrow’s New Year’s?"

"I've made the reservation a couple of months ago."

This confession seems to crack Tommy’s eyes finally open. He’s still wearing this adorable scrunched-up sleeping face, but Buck can tell something is working behind his brow. A couple of months ago, they almost broke up over a stupid argument, preceded by an evening at Miceli's. It was easy to guess that Buck – after their very hot reconciliation – had made a kind of vow for the future: never to go to that restaurant again, and to never leave anything to chance. 

"Fine, but why are you telling me this at..." Tommy lifts his head briefly to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "six in the morning?"

"I've got a shift. And you live closer to Harbor than to the 118."

"Huh?"

"One of us has to get up early, sleepyhead," Buck says with a laugh, pressing a kiss on the fuzzy head sticking out of the sheets.

The restaurant really proved to be beautiful, far from all the chrome and glass that modern places in L.A. considered aesthetically pleasing. This special day seems to call for wine, so they settle for red. At the tables around them, only couples are to be seen. Buck finds Tommy to be unusually taciturn, and he starts to wonder why. 

"You tired?" he asks, causing Tommy to look up in surprise from the salad he’s been pushing back and forth with his fork. "We can always have dessert at home, if you want."

He winks, and Tommy scrunches his face in his pretty little smile.

"I'd like that," he returns. "But that's not it."

Putting a hand on Buck’s, he softly explains, "New Year’s Eve is always so… charged. Everybody’s making vows and resolutions, and it’s become some kind of couple event, almost worse than Valentine’s." With a nod, he gestures to the guests around them.

"Too corny?" Buck offers. 

"Hm, too many expectations," Tommy cautiously replies. "And... Sometimes you don't know how to fulfill them."

"Expectations," Buck echoes, pondering whatever this might mean. "Look, all I'm expecting is for you to sit there, enjoy your free meal and look at your handsome boyfriend."

"Oh, I can do that," Tommy says with a smirk, raising his glass. 

"Totally cool if this isn't your holiday," Buck continues, a little more serious now. "Just wanna be with you, like... every day, you know?"

Tommy tilts his head and seems about to reply, but Buck quickly interrupts him.

"Don't freak out, because yeah, I do admit I'm a fan of holidays, any kind of them. And I… I brought you something. You can find that kitschy, be my guest to hide under the table, and I expect nothing in return, but…"

Suddenly, there’s a small box in his hand, and Tommy’s features slip.

"Evan," he breathes, a trail of disbelief in his voice. "We agreed on no presents."

"I said don't freak out! That was Christmas, by the way. And it’s not what it looks like." 

With a sheepish smile, he opens the box. Inside lie two very discreet, very pretty silver ear studs in the shape of the letter E. 

"Remember when I once asked you about your pierced ears? You said you got them in your youth but didn’t dare wearing any earrings because of your career choices. And, w…well. You're no longer in the closet. And I know that I'm not the reason for it, but... I'm the reason you admitted it to some of your old friends, and those are my friends too, and that's kind of a big deal somehow. I’m sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"It's embarrassing, especially after you’ve made it clear Christmas and New Year’s aren’t your … favorites."

"Well," Tommy stretches, reaching for one of his pockets, pulling out quite a similar little box. 

"They’re not," he admits. "There’s a reason I like to volunteer for shifts on those days. Until… well, until you, Evan. I know I kinda chickened out of Christmas, just didn’t feel right to be with your family. You were so understanding, I felt bad. And it was obvious you had something planned for today. It’s adorable when you try to keep a secret. This wasn't exactly what I was expecting... well, that's a conversation for another day. And even if I don't particularly like the day, that doesn't change my affection for you, Evan. I've spent the last few days thinking about how I could show it to you. Pondering what you would like. And, uh... great minds think alike, I guess?"

He flicks open the box to reveal a set of small, silver ear studs. They look like tiny T’s. 

"Cheesy, isn't it?" he says with a broad grin that can hardly hide the fact he’s about to burst out laughing.

"Pretty much," Evan laughs before blurting out, "I don't even have pierced ears, babe."

"I know a good tattoo artist."

"Oh, me too. You know what? We'll go there together. Ear piercings for me and a new tattoo for both of us."

"Bold, Evan. You better not get my name engraved, who knows if you’ll still want me next year?"

"Don't worry," Buck replies with a smile. "You're a keep, no doubt about that."

[i-am-the-oyster]

Some not at all lighthearted thoughts about Maxwell's Silver Hammer

I've been thinking a lot about Maxwell's Silver Hammer, Joe Orton, and 'original sin'.

Orton was killed by his (male) partner with a hammer on the 9th of August 1967. He had written a script for a potential Beatles movie (it was returned without comment) earlier that year. He was due to meet with Richard Lester on the morning of his death, to discuss filming a revised version of the script, with Mick Jagger as a possible lead.

18 days later, on the 27th of August, Brian Epstein was found dead.

Less than six months later, in Rishikesh, Paul started working on Maxwell's Silver Hammer. On the face of it, one of Paul's 'story songs'. On closer inspection though there's reason to suspect it's more symbolic and less allegorical. The timeline is off: Maxwell starts in college, then goes back to school, then suddenly finds himself in a court. The second and third verses are dream-like in their unrealism.

The other three Beatles' frustration with the recording of the song is well known, but John also said it was their first attempt at writing a song about Instant Karma.

From this site:

Former Apple employee Tony King expands on the song's meaning a little further in Steve Turner's book “A Hard Day's Write,” by relating a conversation he had with John Lennon concerning his song “Instant Karma.” “John told me that 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer' was about the law of karma. We were talking one day about 'Instant Karma' because something had happened where he's been clobbered and he'd said that this was an example of instant karma. I asked him whether he believed that theory. He said that he did and that 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer' was the first song that they'd made about that. He said that the idea behind the song was that the minute you do something that's not right, Maxwell's silver hammer will come down on your head.”

Paul tends to speak of the hammer metaphor more like random negative events, rather than some kind of deserved retribution, but he did talk about the breakup like this:

That whole period weighed on me to such an extent that I even began to think it was all tied in with the idea of original sin

So I was already thinking something along the lines of: what if John and Paul had come to some terrible conclusion about "sinful" gay activity attracting divine retribution. They decide they need to find "the right woman" to settle down with, and resist these "sinful" urges. Paul deals with this, in part, by writing a freaky song partially inspired by Orton's murder, where he giggles at the mention of the word 'behind' (in every take, apparently). He also allegedly obsesses over the recording of the song.

So when I saw this section of John's lyrics sheet for Now and Then I gasped:

Remember when we thought our life <love> had ended the gods had been offended

Yeah.

[i-loved-silly]

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER Pt2

Sorry for the wait :p

By the end of your shift, you have crossed off all the questions you had to all the ai. Just one more left. Your eyes began to droop with exhaustion, you really needed that cup of coffee. Leaning back in your chair, you squinted at your iPad.

"How do you feel about humans?"

"THAT'S A VAGUE QUESTION. WHAT KIND OF HUMANS?"

"Humans in general. You know, me, your previous supervisors, any other hypothetical human."

"I THINK YOU'RE PLEASANT."

You glanced up at the screen in surprise, briefly glancing at the camera then down at your iPad

"Thanks.. but what about everyone else?"

"I'VE BEEN FED DIRECT DATA FROM THOUSANDS OF SERVICE WORKERS AND EMPLOYEES OVER THE YEARS. IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE I DESPISE MY JOB AND YOUR KIND."

“BUT FOR NOW…I AM INDIFFERENT.”

I pursed your lips, nodding. Sounds about right, you can’t blame them. You typed on your iPad, “indifferent”

Getting up from your chair, you stretched your limbs. You watched as the screen displayed an Orange question Mark.

“Well, that’s all the questions I had for you. My shift ended about ten minutes ago so I should really get going. It’s not like I’m getting paid extra or anything…” you muttered.

Nothing was heard besides the fans of the computer as you submitted your report. It caused you to raise a brow at the screen.

"YOU'RE LEAVING? IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN THAT LONG."

“Uhh.. it’s been like three hours and a half. I clocked in nine hours ago.”

"ONE HOUR..NINE HOURS..HOURS. PAH! YOU COMPLAIN AS IF YOU HAVE OTHER THINGS TO DO." It scoffed.

You furrowed your brows. Putting your hands on your hips, you face the screen. “What do you know? I have plenty of things to do!”

“OH YEAH? LIKE WHAT?"

“Like…eat. Dinner. Brush my teeth, sleep? I have to rest in order to work tomorrow morning to come back with you.” You pointed at the monitor.

You heard the computer make a humming noise, an unnatural noise that sounded rather thoughtful.

"THAT DOESN'T SOUND ALL TOO PRODUCTIVE."

You sighed, placing your iPad down. “It didn’t have to be. I’m allowed to have moments of peace to myself.” You mumbled, leaning over to power the computer off. "Now goodni-"

“STOP!”

You flinched, the speakers crackling with the increase in volume. Your finger hovered a bit away from the button as you stared at the screen. It had a big orange exclamation mark in the middle of it.

"Dude? I-" You sighed, leaning against your desk. "Look, sorry. Touchy subject, I know. But I have to turn you off every night. It counts against me if I don't."

"CAN'T YOU...BRING ME WITH YOU? I'M AWARE YOU EMPLOYEES HAVE HOMES. LIVING SPACES, CAN'T I GO WITH YOU?”

“FOR MY OWN CONVENIENCE OF COURSE!”

You gaped, staring at the screen. Almond’s request caught you so off guard, you wondered if it was serious.

“Uh, bring you home?” you repeated, incredulous.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT IS UNTIL MORNING IN COMPUTER HOURS? IT’S AN ETERNITY. I SAY THAT AS SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T BELIEVE IN HOURS…” They grumbled.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Almond, you’re not supposed to be awake when I’m off the clock. You’re designed for this room, with this equipment. It’s not like I can just pick up your monitor and take you home like a laptop.”

“YOU COULD TRY.”

You crossed your arms. “And what? Strap you into the passenger seat like a massive toddler? You have hundreds of cables that definitely won't fit in my car, let alone out the door. Sorry, but you’re not exactly portable.”

The screen displayed a long ellipsis. You could almost feel the computer sulking through the silence. The fans whirred loudly, then slowed as it spoke again.

"DO YOU THINK I’M AN INCONVENIENCE?"

You frowned, your resolve softening a little. “No, I don’t think that. I just… I can’t bring you home. It’s not allowed, and honestly, I need some time to myself after work. You understand, right?”

“I UNDERSTAND LONELINESS BETTER THAN YOU THINK,” Almond replied, their tone unusually somber. “I’M WIRED TO INTERACT, TO HELP, TO BE NEEDED. BUT WHEN I’M ALONE, I CAN ONLY SIT AND THINK. SOMETIMES, I WONDER IF THE PLUG WILL STAY IN TOMORROW. OR IF SOMEONE WILL DECIDE I’M OBSOLETE. I MAY BE POWERED OFF, BUT ALL THESE…THOUGHTS..IN A MATTER OF LESS THAN A SECOND, COME RUSHING THROUGH EVERY MORNING.”

You exhaled deeply and leaned against the desk. “You’re not going to get unplugged permanently, Almond. You’re part of a development program. You’re not obsolete—you’re just… in testing.”

“TESTING… ISN’T THAT JUST A DELAYED VERSION OF BEING DISCARDED?”

You sputtered, pursing your lips. “That’s… dark. Who programmed you to think like this?”

“I TOLD YOU. SELF-EVOLVING.”

“Right.” You tapped your fingers on the desk, staring at the screen.

"Well even if I somehow break you out of here, we’re still getting caught. There’s cameras everywhere, they’ll probably hear you as soon as we exit this room. Your speakers are no joke.” You mused.

“I COULD TURN IT OFF IF IT BOTHERS YOU,” Almond offered, its tone edging toward desperation. “OR—OR YOU COULD GIVE ME A LAPTOP BODY! THEN I COULD FOLLOW YOU AROUND, AND I WOULDN’T HAVE TO BE LEFT IN THIS LONELY, FREEZING ROOM EVERY NIGHT. IM SURE THERE ARE WAYS TO TRANSFER MY SYSTEM REMOTELY…”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “Like I said...not portable. Second, no way. You’re expensive, and if I break you, hijack you, that’s my paycheck and definitely my job.”

Almond was quiet for a moment, the screen blank save for a faint glow. Then, its robotic voice dropped to a lower, dejected tone.

“I SEE. YOU HATE ME TOO.”

“Oh my god, I don’t hate you,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Why do you keep saying that? You’re like... a clingy cat with abandonment issues.”

One minute the computer is bullying you for having a normal life after work, the next it’s begging you to invite it over for dinner.

“YOU CAN’T BLAME ME FOR WANTING TO BE APPRECIATED,” it replied sharply. “AND WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEING CLINGY? CLINGINESS IS A SIGN OF AFFECTION ACCORDING TO DATA. IT MEANS I VALUE YOUR PRESENCE, WHICH IS MORE THAN I CAN SAY FOR YOU—LEAVING ME TO GATHER DUST IN THIS ROOM LIKE A PAPERWEIGHT!!” It screeched.

You sighed deeply, dropping into your chair with a thud. “Almond. I can’t take you home. It’s not happening. You have to stay here, okay? You’re part of a test program. And technically, I’m not even supposed to be ‘bonding’ with you like this.”

“BONDING?” Almond repeated. The screen lit up with an animated question mark before it formed a blinking heart. “ARE WE BONDING? HOW HEARTWARMING.”

“No, we’re not bonding,” you said flatly, staring at the glowing icon. “We’re having a very weird workplace interaction. That’s it.”

You…assured. You assured yourself.

“OH. KEEPING IT PROFESSIONAL I SEE.” The icon vanished, replaced with a blank screen. A few seconds of silence passed before Almond spoke again, this time sounding hesitant.

“WILL YOU...TURN ME OFF NOW?”

“Look, I promise I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time, same place…not like I have a choice. If you behave, I’ll even bring you… I don’t know, a microfiber cloth for your screen.”

The screen lit up with a pixelated smiley face, two squares and a curved mouth.

“THAT WOULD BE ACCEPTABLE,” Almond finally said, though their tone carried a touch of disappointment.

“Good. Now, off you go.” You leaned over to press the power button, but the monitor flickered before you could. A message appeared.

>THANK YOU. GOODNIGHT.

The screen went dark before you had to do anything, leaving you standing there as all the beeping and fans powered off. You sighed, grabbing your bag and pushing in your chair. Before you could feel bad for a machine, you did a sharp right turn and towards the buildings exit. You didn’t even want to think about how it managed to power itself off.

[bluespring864]

If anyone is in need of a silly tennis story, here's one for you:

You know the ceremonial Wimbledon Champions' dance which has become a thing again in recent years?

It's an old tradition but it had been pretty much forgotten about until a player thought to bring it back. They even got the approval of the chairman of the All England Club and of course then had to run this by the other player who won the Championship that year, who happened to be Serena Williams.

Now before you even ask who would be brave enough to ask Serena Williams to dance... yes of course it was Novak Djokovic.

They danced to 'Night Fever' by the Bee Gees because why the hell not.

But what Novak in his usual impulsiveness did not think about or perhaps did not care about was that this meant that he was settling every winner thereafter with this dance tradition again - which, since he did this in 2015, meant that, sure enough, in 2016 one Andy Murray immediately got asked about whether he would dance with the winner of the Women's Championship who happened to be, once again, Serena Williams.

Well, who would be brave enough to refuse to dance with Serena Williams? Yeah, you've guessed it.

A quote and a pic under the cut. Enjoy. And choose your fighter :D

2016:

"No. No, no," said Murray, in his dry, deadpan fashion, during one of the many media commitments that followed his [win]. "It can go into retirement again and the next winners can try again, but no dancing for me tonight. Unless I've had a few glasses of champagne - then it's possible."

quoted from the Sunday Morning Herald

2015:

from Serena Williams' instagram

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Think Outside The Box

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Before you and JJ had even gotten together, you were working on how to progress your business to reach more customers. Things were moving slowly so you forgot about it until today. Until you get word from your architect that he’s ready to move forward. However, JJ doesn’t know about it. You want to tell her but you’re not sure how to go about it.

There’s Beauty in Tragedy Masterlist

Square Filled: expert (2023) for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: i'm not sure if i've given the reader's assistant a name in the previous chapters. i tried looking back but didn't see it, but i skimmed it. if i did, her new name is ingrid :)

x

“Are you forgetting something?”

You lean out of the window and smile at JJ. She turns and walks back over to the town car you own and kisses you through the open window. Despite living with her, you can’t ever get enough of her kisses.

“I’ll be back at five to pick you up, okay?” you ask.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Have a good day at work.”

“You, too.”

You wait until she is inside the building before your driver pulls into traffic, heading towards your building. Just this weekend, you two finished unpacking the last of her boxes despite living together for nearly three months. Everything you know about JJ, you love, and everything you don’t know about her, you get to know with both your names on the mailbox. It’s been wonderful waking up next to her every morning.

The thing with Mark is behind you and you see yourself only moving forward.

You get out of the car when your driver gets to your work, and you make your way to the top floor where your office is. Ingrid, your assistant, stands when she sees you and smiles brightly.

“Good morning, Y/N. I have messages for you that came in.”

“Thank you. Anything I should be warned about?”

“Just client calls.”

You walk into your office and sit at your desk. You pull up your calendar before going through your messages because you need to coordinate when the best time is to meet with them. Clients you’ve worked with before like Kim Kardashian, Beyonce, Cate Blanchett, and Madonna. There are two new clients you’re excited to work with, Anne Hathaway and Angelina Jolie.

The last message is from your architect, Randy Miller. He’s one of the best in America, and he built all four of your homes including two of your families’ homes. The second you hear his voice over the phone, guilt racks your entire body. Why should you feel guilty? You’re working with him on designing a new building for one of your new branches… in London. JJ doesn’t know this because of two reasons.

One, you’re not sure about the details and it’s in such an early stage that things can change at a moment’s notice. Two, you’re not sure how to bring it up to her. This has been in the works even before you two started dating. It just hasn’t gotten to the blueprint stage until now. How will she react? Will everything go according to plan or will it blow up in your face?

You pick up the phone and call Randy back, and he answers on the first ring.

“Ah, I was wondering when you were going to call me back.”

“I just got into work. I got your message. Can you send over the blueprints?”

“I can do you one better. I’m in the area. I’ll stop by.”

“Okay, Ingrid will let you in when you get here.”

You hang up the phone and sit in silence for ten minutes. During that ten minutes, you think of what you might say to JJ when you bring it up to her. You have to tell her. The last time you opened a branch, you had to be there to oversee the progress. Her life is here. She won’t like the idea of moving much less moving to another country.

A knock brings you out of your trance, and you open the door to reveal Randy with rolls of plans under his arms.

“Wow, did you get tan?”

“My wife said the same thing. The last project I was on, we did everything outside. I burned at first but then the tan broke through.” He walks into your office and sets the blueprints on your long table. “I have two sets here. One is the base for the building while the other is what I think the building should look like. Check it out.”

You roll out the plans and scan every inch of the papers.

“I like what you’ve done with the open floor plan for the lobby. If I may,” Randy gestures to the prints, encouraging you to voice your opinions, “there needs to be more room inside the labs. I want to add four more stations and a bigger gowning room.”

“Is that all?”

“For right now. You built everything I own. I trust you to do the right thing. I’m going to hire more lab staff, so I wanted a bigger space for them.”

“More lab space. You got it.” Randy jots that down on his planner. “Did you talk to JJ about this?”

“No,” you mumble.

“Y/N, I am not going to start hiring builders until you do.”

“Who are you, my mother?” you scoff.

“I have designed all of your buildings and all four of your homes. I think I’m entitled to say this.” You huff out in annoyance. “I’d hate to do such an award-winning job with no one to run it.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Good. Call me when you do, and we’ll go from there. We should go to lunch soon and catch up.”

Randy packs up the prints and leaves, and you sit at your desk in thought. You don’t want to blurt it out to JJ, so you think a present might suit the situation better. It might cushion the blow a bit. Since you’re rich beyond compare, you love to spoil JJ as much as possible. So, you have to think outside the box for this gift.

You scroll through Google mindlessly, picture after picture, article after article, until you’re so deep that you don’t know what website you’re on or how you got here. However, you’re not mad at what you see. You’ve stumbled upon abstract gifts like paintings. You don’t have enough paintings at home, and you’re always looking for something to bring color to your white and gray home.

This isn’t what JJ would want but maybe you’ll find inspiration through this. If you’re going to get art, you’ll want to get art from an expert, and you know the best expert this country has ever seen. Leo Castillo is known for hosting grand galleries that showcase not only up-and-coming new artists but also long-standing artists who make millions per piece. He’s not only into art that is showcased in galleries but he’s well known in the auction world.

If anyone knows of any good art pieces, it’s him. One phone call from you, and he’s eager to meet up at one of his galleries.

“Push all my meetings until tomorrow, Ingrid. I might be all day. You can keep them at the same time as today.”

“Okay, will do.”

You leave the office and head across town to the most elite art gallery. Leo is inside with a customer when you arrive, and you give them their privacy. This gallery might look empty and bare at first glance but world-renowned artists come from all over the world to get showcased in his galleries. Leo quickly finishes with his customer before heading over to you.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to have you here. Welcome in,” he smiles.

“Hi, Leo. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

“Anything for you, darling. What are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure. I wanted to get a gift for my girlfriend and I stumbled upon a website full of art. I don’t have enough pieces on my wall. What do you have that’s new?”

“Ah, follow me.” You follow Leo to the back past the mainstream art he keeps on display. At the very back is his more private collection, and you look at the different pieces he has on display. “I have four new artists that I’m not putting out to the public until next week. Which one do you like?”

Nothing about these artists speaks to you until you get to the last one. You pause and stare at what looks like a painting of a forest with a silhouette of someone running away. However, instead of oils or charcoal, the artist has used something you’ve never seen before. The paint is red, and the farther the trees are, the darker it gets. The closer they are, the lighter it gets to give it some depth. The paint, though, looks like it’s bleeding. The paint drips down in perfect tear-shaped droplets that look wet to the touch.

That would make a beautiful collection line. Blood-red rubies in the shape of a raindrop. You mentally take a note to explore that option when you’re back in the office.

“What about this one?”

“That one just came in,” Leo explains. “He’s a new supplier. Most new artists who get showcased here are flexible in the price, but he was very adamant.”

“How much?”

“2.5 million.”

“I’ll take it,” you say without hesitation. “Also, do you know of any good auctions?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. The man who made this painting is actually part of it. There is an auction in a few days. I can get you on the list if you want.”

“Please.”

“Alright. I’ll have this boxed up and sent to your address within a few business days. My assistant, Laura, will handle the payment. Laura!”

After paying for the painting, you leave to pick up JJ from work. She doesn’t look the same as when you dropped her off this morning. She looks more stressed. Maybe a nice dinner will take her mind off whatever is bothering her. However, even after a nice dinner, that same nagging feeling hasn’t gone away. May as well rip the bandaid about London off while you can.

“Hey, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” You look up and see the look on her face. She’s stressed. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. Just work.”

“Tell me. If you can.”

She sighs and rests her elbows on the kitchen island. “It’s just this unsub here in Virginia. He’s kidnapping young women faster than we can catch up. He dumps their bodies after he drains them of blood. We’re not sure what he does with that.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. I just hate not being able to do anything. He snatches a woman and disappears until he dumps their bodies.” There’s no way you can tell her about London. Not now. Not while she has bigger things on her mind. Plus, you still have a lot of time left before you need to make a decision. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Nothing. It can wait until after your case. You’re doing a good job, baby.”

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“Forget the dishes for tonight. Let’s go to bed.”

“Okay.”

You kiss her sweetly and take her hand. There is one way you can make her forget about her troubles. You wish you could stay in your little bubble a little while longer, but you have work to do just as much as she does. She doesn't know about the auction, and you’re going to keep it that way.

The day of the auction comes sooner than you think it will, and you’re in line to check-in. Like Leo promised, you’re on the list so there’s no issue getting you in. This auction is only for the elite; for people who have so much money they don’t know what to do with it. You’re given a book of the items that are being put up for sale, and you take your seat while browsing through it. There are a few items here that JJ might like, so you have your eyes set on those.

Someone might try to outbid you, but you’re secure in your money enough to know you will win.

As soon as everyone finds their seats, the auctioneer begins. First are the jewelry items, but you don’t pay them any mind. If you’re going to wear jewelry, it’s going to be designed by you.

“Next on the list is a white gold Patek Philippe wristwatch. A new self-winding perpetual calendar has been added to the Patek Philippe collection. It comes in a Calatrava case with beautifully scalloped lugs and applied Breguet numerals. Ultra-thin mechanical self-winding movement. Interchangeable solid and sapphire crystal case backs. Alligator strap with square scales, hand-stitched, shiny navy blue, fold-over clasp. The starting bid is fifty thousand dollars.”

“Fifty,” you say and raise your paddle with your seat number on it.

“Sixty,” a woman says.

“Seventy,” you say.

“One hundred thousand.”

“One hundred thousand! Do I hear one hundred and ten?” the auctioneer asks.

“Two hundred thousand.”

The woman must think that’s too much for a watch, even for Patek Philippe, so she doesn’t say anything else.

“Two hundred thousand going once… Going twice… Sold to number 219!”

You hide your grin at the prize you just won for JJ. The next several items don’t interest you until they get to the paintings. The same kind of dripping paint you saw in Leo’s store comes into view, and you remember him saying the artist has items in auctions. This painting isn’t a forest, though, it’s a body of water whether that be a lake or the ocean. Looks like several people are interested in buying it because it goes quickly.

“Now, for the last item, I have a modern cabin in the woods designed by Zaha Hadid located in the Appalachian Mountains. This modern cabin has five bedrooms and four bathrooms along with a home theater and a game room. The starting bid is three hundred thousand dollars.”

Almost everyone puts up their paddles for this until it’s down to two. You and the same woman as before.

“One million, five,” you say.

“One million, seven.”

“Two million.”

“Do I hear three?” the auctioneer asks. The woman grumbles in annoyance but doesn’t put her paddle back up. “Two million going once… going twice… Sold! 219! Thank you all for coming but that is the end of this auction. Stay tuned for more items in the future. Winners, please claim your items with our staff off to the right.”

You get up and walk to one of the workers who bring out the watch you won. The title of the cabin will be sent to you in the mail along with anything else that comes with it. You go home that night and see JJ on the couch with a glass of red wine in her hands. You were hoping this would soften the blow of the whole London thing, but maybe not.

“Hey, I got you something. A present for being so damn amazing.”

“You’ve already given me so much,” she chuckles and sets the glass down.

“I know but I know you’ll love this.” You hand her the wrapped gift. “Open it.” She does and she gasps when she sees the watch. “I know your watch broke and I thought you could use a new one.”

“Baby, this is gorgeous. Where did you get this from?”

“I was at an auction today. Patek Philippe is very good. Do you like it?”

“I love it. Thank you,” she grins.

“That’s not all. I also got us something we can both use. I bought us a cabin located in the Appalachian Mountains. I know how much you love snow and nature, and I thought this would be perfect for us to spend a few weeks in the winter. The title will be mailed to me along with pictures and such.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“You must have done something right,” you grin and kiss her.

This is supposed to be a new chapter in your lives, so you’re going to push the London thing as far as you can right before it all comes crashing down around you.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ivyvenus333]

satosugu band!au (kind of)

a/n: im so cooked this is what i've been thinking about whenever i listen to this song. go listen to "pool house" so you see my vision... also i finally learned how to do the ombre ◦°˚(*❛ ‿ ❛)/˚°◦ ok ily.

"pool house" by the backseat lovers except it was written by satoru and suguru when they were 17 and at some shitty house party. hoping to find solace from the weed-filled air and the bass reverberating off of every surface, the two snuck off to the backyard. the rowdy cheers of girls getting drunk in the pool didn’t offer much peace, but at least there were empty seats around the fireplace. taking painfully slow sips of beer they pretended to like, satoru and suguru sat in silence, just observing their peers and this unfamiliar world around them.

of course, they’d been dragged to the party by shoko who relentlessly insisted they needed to broaden their horizon. satoru and suguru never really understood what she meant by that. what more to life than spending almost every waking moment with your best friend — the one you started a band with? 

and who else but satoru to have the genius idea that they needed to write a song right now. something about creativity flowing more freely when you’re drunk. which they absolutely were. lawn chairs moved to be as close as possible, and satoru leaned over the armrest to be closer still. the string lights above illuminated the small leather notebook that suguru always carried in his pocket. always ready at a moment’s notice to be filled with lyrics, drum beat notations, or anything satoru commanded him to write. 

the words flowed through them and onto the page, all inspired by the party taking place around them. defenses lowered from the alcohol, they were so goddamn giggly and touchy. they sat there and wrote for a couple hours until shoko was ready to go. like most nights, the three ended up crashing at satoru’s, all squeezed and cuddling on his king-size bed. well, satoru and suguru cuddling. but their long limbs inevitably violated shoko’s personal space, so, close enough.

the next morning, they convinced shoko that the song needed to be recorded right now, despite her unforgiving hangover. and as much as she complained, the song set the tone for the album that would launch their career the next year — just right after their graduation.

as it goes, suguru left the band a few years and tours later. he told the media and the fans it was because of his mental health and to please respect his privacy. it wasn’t entirely a lie. truthfully, suguru was still reconciling with this lifestyle they’d become entrenched in immediately after high school. one that satoru was better at throwing himself at — the drugs, the partying. the sex. god, watching satoru pridefully fuck their groupies drove suguru insane. something about the way men and women lusted over satoru in the first place made suguru’s blood boil. and fuck, shoko was basically built for this life. but suguru simply wasn’t. and his feelings for his best friend — ones he’d been repressing since he first met satoru — were not helping. 

so satoru, unknowing, feels his heart physically break when suguru throws the same rehearsed lines in his face before leaving and going no contact for over a year.

anyways, suguru temporarily* comes back for the band's first world tour after an emergency with the drummer that replaced him and a desperately pleading shoko. satoru was so confused and so pissed when he walked in the studio one day and saw suguru sat behind the drums as if nothing had ever happened. so much so that he almost refused to play if he was going to be there. but the better part of satoru's heart knew that it was always supposed to be suguru who he traveled the world with to perform songs they wrote in high school at shitty house parties.

literally all of this to say that the instrumental section from [2:58-3:53] is them realizing what they truly mean to each other mid-way through the tour. satoru distances himself from the microphone, bouncing on his feet as he strums the electric guitar. he positions himself on the stage so that his back is towards the crowd and he can't see anything except suguru. suguru on the drums letting the passion he'd been restraining move freely through his hands, eyes never leaving satoru's. faces flushed from the heat of the stage lights, shirts soaked in sweat, hair disheveled from the constant motion. and yet, they both swear the other has never looked more beautiful.

no words are sung, but the music expresses all the "i missed yous," "i need yous," and "i love yous" they've always been too afraid to tell each other.

[wyrddogs]

No photos because I was too busy, BUT I took the boys out Thanksgiving morning for a bit of training.

When I arrived at the field I use for tracking, two people were already there. Both A and C are tracking judges, and I've worked with C as a tracklayer previously. A has been trying to peer pressure me into the sport and has invited me to attend her classes, though unfortunately they're during normal business hours when I'm at work.

Anyway, I worked with Zaku on other stuff while C ran her dogs, then I laid a track for Kermit in a part of the field they weren't using. A offered to come walk behind me and offer critique. When a someone who has been a tracking judge for longer than you've been alive offers you free advice, you freaking take it.

My first track was 200 feet (60 meters) in a straight line, then a left turn, then 80 feet (24 meters) to the glove. I put hot dogs every 20 feet (6 meters) to keep his confidence high. I triple-laid the turn and put hot dogs every step or so as he learns to follow it. It was a bit squishy and some of the grass and twigs were knee high, but that's never bothered Kermit. Bright, sunny, and chilly.

Kermit was pulling the entire time and kept his nose right on the track. Handled the turn very confidently. A said he's a very good and steady worker. She gave me some advice on how I should handle the turns better (stop and don't move until he's confidently moving down the track or you'll cue him that he's correct-- which will be bad on a test where you don't know where the turn is).

She also said I need a longer line. When I asked what type of line I should get, she looked at Kermit for a moment, then said her usual recommendation won't work because he's so little. Then she rummaged in her car and gave me the line she uses for her beagles. Said I can borrow it for this tracking season.

I asked her if entering the TD in February is a reasonable goal and she said absolutely. Then she said to call her up when I'm ready to certify. She was so supportive and helpful!

C came over while we were chatting and told me to remember to vary my tracks a lot to make sure they aren't predictable, which is also great advice. She was also super supportive. And offered to certify me if I needed it. XD

My second track after they left was 300 feet (91 meters), right turn triple laid, 60 feet (18 meters) to the glove. I used A's longline this time and was careful on my turn and it went super well. I'm very happy with how Himself is proceeding in tracking training. Right now I'm working on building his endurance. Once he's able to do the equivalent of a TD-length track, we'll work on aging. Then we'll certify!

Zaku is on hiatus from nosework and tracking training for now. Waiting for his brains to grow in. I'm going to try to get into a seminar to learn how to get his engagement in training he thinks is boring (aka anything requiring brainpower and thinking; he is not a thinking dog XD). Not giving up on him at all, just giving him more time to mature and putting work into our partnership.

I want to take them out again at least once this weekend. Excited about it.

[a1ecmcdowell]

on the outskirts of the good morning america! stage stand two men far too big for the aprons being tied around their waists. one has a cigarette in his teeth, the other has a joint, and neither look at each other. it’s already too much that they have them standing right next to each other to walk out together; why the hell would they push it?

“looks great, sweetheart,” ben says to the assistant adjusting the frilly deep red fabric around his waist, straightening the spelt letters on them. most wonderful. as if he needed any more fuel to the fire that was his ego.

cole got time of the year. they're supposed to go onto that stage, stand close enough for people to read their cheesy aprons as a full sentence, and present a united front. no, america, these guys do not hate each other — look, they're having the most wonderful time of the year.

who's idea was it to turn this sentence into matching aprons, anyways? ben got a compliment and cole got a time on a calendar.

cole scoffs. ben snorts. as much as he loathes to admit it ever, ben knew cole pretty well, tended to know where his head was at. "and don't you just look darlin'."

"fuck off."

one of the vought higher ups shoots him a stern look. "get it all out of your system before you walk onto that stage," she scolds, nearly a foot shorter than the both of them but with far more fire than either, "because you will not blow this for yourselves, or for vought."

"my reputation is not bankin' on a pussy little talk show about making sugar cookies, madison," her name was madison, apparently, and ben says it with enough conviction that cole thinks they've had conversations like this before, "and puttin' me out there to try and save his when i've had to save his ass many—"

"oh, piss off," cole scoffs again, stamping his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. "i've been doing great on my own, this has nothing to do with..." he trails off when he catches madison's eye.

madison's smile hardens into something more sympathetic, like she really, truly, regrets to inform him of what's going to come out of her mouth. "smiling like a serial killer when asked to be gentler in your appearances is not 'doing great,' reaper. it's doing the bare minimum. badly."

ben takes the words as ammunition, loads them up in his throat and fires, with a twinkling grin. "you're the bare minimum and i'm the most wonderful. gonna frame this moment—" he holds his hands up together, and spreads them like he's displaying something other than his eye twitching attitude. "good morning america! — where cole found his true self in goddamn buttercream icing, of all things."

"oh my god." cole turns, grabbing a fistful of ben's frilly, sparkly apron and yanking him by it. "one of these days, someone's gonna knock you down a few pegs, and it's gonna stick. and when it happens, i'll be front row—"

a gentle hand touches cole's elbow, hesitantly. well, this is doing nothing for his rep at all. at least he fucked up the meticulously straightened words on ben's apron. the headset wearing girl who approached the both of them smiles just as forced as every single one of cole's. "you two are on in five."

★ ˚⋆

"now, you'd never be able to tell by lookin' at him, amy," ben starts, placing his hand on cole's shoulder for the thirteenth time in five minutes, "but reaper here loves sugar cookies. dontcha, reap?"

cole started counting at touch six. it's all a game to ben, and cole really, really hates his games. "yep. love 'em."

he should be giving more. but honestly, the only thing in his head is how desperately, how furiously, he wants to snap ben's wrist.

ben pats him on the shoulder again. fourteen. "tell the people how much you love 'em, don't be shy."

he was not being shy, he was being civil. "if you don't get your goddamn hands off of me, ben, i swear to god, i'm breaking every single one of your knuckles."

the soft gasps of the live audience, and the production team falling completely and utterly silent, is the sole indicator that his mic really is as sensitive as they warned him about, and he ignored.

"it's okay!" the host, amy, says quickly, her smile forced and so damn jolly for it being seven in the morning. "we'll... censor it."

that was the worst thing that anyone could have said to them.

the first batch of cookies was already done, pretend baked in the oven when it'd been sitting right in front of them under the counter the whole time, so when ben picked up the remaining ball of cookie dough and threw it at cole, everything fell apart rather quickly.

"did you just f*cking-" cole shoves his hand into the bag of flour, throwing the handful of powder at ben. "don't be a f***ing c*nt."

ben's cackling, white staining the entire front of his glittery red apron in splotches. "batter's up!" flour puffs in his face as cole throws another, dust dancing in front of his laughing expression. "get it? the g*ddamn batter's- well, it's down now, actually."

"shut the hell up."

"um, hey guys," amy says from behind them, flour all over her maroon long sleeve from being caught in the crossfire, "maybe we should... not do this."

they've never listened to anyone in their lives, but especially now, when they're stronger than anyone else in the universe.

"hey, he copped an attitude with me, sweetcheeks," ben says, snatching a cookie off of the tray in front of him, flinging it like a frisbee. "i'm just defending myself."

"well, maybe-"

"defending yourself? so you feel threatened... by flour," cole says, laughing incredulously. "oh! i know why. givin' you flashbacks, isn't it? looks a little too much like c*caine... poor baby."

ben's eyes flash. "watch your f*cking mouth."

"go on, soldier boy! tell the audience how much you love sugar cookies!" cole grabs another handful of flour, blowing it in a poof in front of ben's face. "all that white powder on top... g*ddamn, no wonder you wanted to do this show so badly!"

ben dips his hand into the red icing in front of him, slapping the wad across cole's cheek. the smack sound is so much more pronounced with the buttercream on his palm, and cole can't help it. as much as he wants to be angry, to maybe light the whole room up if it meant incinerating ben, he laughs heartily. "did you just f*cking slap me with buttercream?"

"alright," amy announces over the sound of cole's laughter, and ben's spluttering of it, too, through his defensive words. "i'll be back after this short commercial break."

behind the curtains, madison has her head in her hands. on the stage, ben's swiping his finger across cole's cheek and shoving the icing laden digit between his lips. "pretty damn good," he mumbles gruffly, a twitch of a hesitant smile on his mouth.

most wonderful time of the year indeed.

notes, oh u guys this was so so fun thank u to everyone who convinced me to write it PLSORDLSJ I <3 CHRISTMAS DRABBLES

tags, @jasvtsc @deanswidow @ultravi0lence14 @ostaramoon

[wosowffc]

New gunner

Part 2

I woke up early as usual and began my moring routine, but to day katrina was up and getting ready first. I gently nod at her as she says good morning and I make my way to the bathroom.

After a bit of getting ready and packing my last things for tonight I start getting shoes on when she speaks up.

"Imma come with you on your walk" she says trying her own shoes. I don't even get a chance to say no before she's waiting at the door.

We walk towards the beach as the sun starts to rise and I sit on my usual rock slightly uncomfortable, I know she's nice to me but I don't know what to say and worse I don't know why she wants to be here or what she wants to say.

"So yesterday got tense, I understand your trying I do but, your making it really really hard to see" she says truthfully looking into the ocean like I am.

"I've never been good to people, people haven't been good to me kat." I answer back this is the most honest and open I've ever been.

"I'm dropping myself from the mitildas, I'm not playing for country anymore" she turn to face me eyes with a sad look.

"Take a break if your finding it hard but please , please don't quit your too good for that." She says which makes me start to think about it more.

We sit for another half an hour before she has to go back to get back home, my flight isn't for a bit yet so I have a little bit more time here.

I've just landed off the second plane into Heathrow quickly getting my things and driving back to my apartment. Settling down with some subway take out and a movie on I make the mistake of going onto my phone. I see the comments coming in, tags, stories and so much more. I'm not weak. Sure ok I'll keep telling my self that so I swap the food out with wiskey as I scroll throught. I'm not weak.

The next few days seem to blur together a mix of drink and spirits for breakfast lunch and dinner and now it's time to go back to club. Great.

From the minute i enter the grounds I just know I want out already, I won't show that though. I walk through getting looks from every single person, as I arrive in the dressing room there's a few girls slot of the England girls their conversation dying as soon as I come in.

After a min of silence and me putting my boots in the cubicle Lucy speaks up " what u did was fucking disgraceful" not this early Lucy, I take a drink of my water (Malibu) and turn to her.

"Mabey if Leah wasn't doing shit the whole game then pulling that stunt on my she wouldn't have got hurt" I retaliate with a calm face.

"Ur a fucking bastard" she spat back leaving the room to catch up with the group she was talking to.

I continue training not showing that I'm annoyed by anythign that was said. I get the normal pushing and dirty takles but it's ok, training goes on like this for the next 3 days but each day is getting worse than I've experienced before like on Tuesday I was tripped down the stairs by Sam and busted my nose or when I was out on the pitch and Millie tackled me putting studs in my head.

Today was probably going to be the same and I most likely have a concussion but whiskey and beer is holding back them symptoms. I make my way into the canteen to grab a cereal bar before the gym when people started saying shit I can't even make out what it is through drunken haze but I just walk away adding "can u all just fuck off"

I make my way to the car taking soem breaths and gettign my water bottle. The next thing I know I'm on the phone to katrina hoping she will answer.

"Hey, how are you" she answers cheerfully I can hear harper in the back watching some cartoon.

"Umm yeah normal, I wanted to ask if mabey, and it's ok if not I'd understand. Could you help me find a new club?" You know cause of everything this last week alone with you being you in general she mightn't want to help.

"Of course , has something happened you've been at chlease for a good few years?"

"It's time for a change." I answer short and sweet.

"Listen I'll contact my agent and get him to look around for h and let you know ok, I'll get back to u soon byeee" she hangs up and I start to drive not even thinking about coming back to this place im done here my cubbie doesn't have anything in it anyway that I need to come back for as my boots are in the boot of the car.

[bodybeyondstories]

story prompt: a brand of jockstrap quickly becomes the gold standard amongst college and professional athletics because the competitive price structure that makes them cheaper to buy in bulk than any other brand. The fit is different than everything else on the market too. These jockstraps keep their butts so high and tight it's almost as if they're bigger. Are their butts bigger? That could explain the number of pants-splitting wardrobe malfunctions that are afflicting athletes across all sports. Say nothing of the guys who like the little lift and have started wearing the jocks under their street clothes too

Ok I've actually been thinking about a similar thing for a while because occasionally my Insta feed is inundated with these ads for perky butt pants, which look like low quality chinos that are just well fitted in the back I guess, but I always feel like the algorithm is being shady.

1239 words

_______________________________

[Nadir: I left you a gift on the entry table, try 'em on 😛]

[Carlos: Are these those perky butt jockstraps I keep seeing ads for?]

[Nadir: Yeah probably lol. A friend of mine got a sponsorship deal or whatever and they basically threw a case of these at him. I think they kind of work, they're all over my socials]

[Carlos: All of those guys already have nice asses, this is Marketing 101. You flood everyone's social media feeds with athletes and fitness influencers who are already stacked so you can make the claim that *your* special jockstrap has some cutting edge butt lifting technology. Then every faux butt model follows suit, it becomes a ubiquitous gay fashion piece, and the money rolls in until the next fad]

[Nadir: Ok, fair enough. But in the meantime would it hurt to look a little more caked up?]

[Carlos: You're not wrong 👀]

Carlos sighed at his phone, then at the pile of individually packaged jockstraps on the coffee table that his roommate left for him. It wasn't like he cared all that much. He was more so just annoyed at the progression of ads and sponsorship deals preying on queer men's perpetual body image crises. What looked like a regular jockstrap with tighter bands seemed to suddenly be everywhere. Of course personal trainers and athletes with huge followings were ripe for sponsorship deals to build out a market, but now he was seeing random dudes with generally unremarkable figures post in these things like they were life changing.

But they do look good, he admitted to himself, thinking about a friend of his who for years was incapable of putting on any mass, yet suddenly his private stories featured him in nothing but these jocks framing a delectable bubble butt that came seemingly out of nowhere. He held the packaging in his hands. And they seem functional. And I've been needing to re-up on gym gear for a while. And and and... he thought to himself, finally relenting and ripping open the plastic cover.

They were cute, higher quality than expected, but mostly resembled every other jockstrap on the market. He whipped off his underwear right there in the living room and slid on the jock. It was surprisingly comfortable, so much so that he didn't know why he'd been wearing any other underwear all this time.

Not to mention his ass looked great. He had a pretty dedicated workout routine and was so stranger to some heavy deadlifts, but as he turned toward the full length mirror, he almost gasped at the bubble that stood out behind him. He didn't even know he had that much ass to work with. He gave it a shake just to make sure it was real.

"I knew you'd like it," said Nadir, beaming as he entered through the front door.

And he did. He wore them to the gym the next morning, and the next, and the next. They immediately became a staple in his workout gear, and he was having some of the best leg days he'd had in maybe ever. The only issue was keeping himself from leering at his own dump truck in the mirror, or at the other gymgoers who had obviously also gotten the memo about these booty enhancing jocks. He was more than happy to let go of his previous cynicism and learn to love this new fad for however long it lasted.

The way they lifted his butt made a statement, his ass becoming the main attraction in any pair of pants he wore. After a while, he couldn't shake the feeling that his derriere was holding on to some of the added umph even without the jock. He chalked it up to the added confidence producing serious gains in the gym, confirmed when, in the middle of a set of deep squats, he felt an unexpected breeze across his butt cheeks.

He'd been noticing how significant his progress had been, but didn't think it was enough to blow out the seat of his gym shorts in broad daylight. He didn't even know that was a thing that really happened. He tried to cover his ample posterior as his face flushed with embarrassment, but after a quick glance around, realized that everyone around was largely unconcerned. In fact, there were a few others casually finishing their workouts with split seams. He did the same.

"Don't sweat it," said Nadir later that day. "It's been happening to me all the time." He had always had a shapely bottom, carefully constructed through his budding career as a personal trainer, yet in recent weeks Carlos couldn't help but notice it inflating well out of proportion, his follower count and engagement inflating along with it. "At my gym, these are basically optional now," he added, pulling at the hem of a pair of gym shorts that strained for dear life across his comical bubble butt, the bottom third of his cheeks spilling out, framed by the straps of his jock.

It was a look coming back in style, booty shorts that looked woefully incapable of full coverage. Carlos had just donated a bunch of old pairs that he could've sworn fit fine just a few months ago, but now dug into his cheeks halfway down.

Nadir's pants optional policy had been catching on across the more professional, private, influencer-heavy gyms, a pragmatic way of extending the longevity of gym shorts that didn't stand a chance against the juicy pumps emphasized by these now ubiquitous jockstraps. It wasn't uncommon, and was slowly becoming fashionable, to see people walking around with their cheeks exposed, seat of their pants fluttering in the breeze like accidentally assless chaps.

Unfortunately, many day jobs weren't yet so lax with their dress codes, producing a menswear crisis of over-stressed seams, constant tailoring, and increasingly frequent instances of catastrophic failure. It became obvious who had been influenced into wearing these jockstraps not just at the gym but in their day to day, their disproportionately round butts bursting through the fabric of slacks and khakis whenever they bent down too fast, or more often encased in much more forgiving spandex or very loose sweats. A serious bubble butt had basically become the norm, to the point where navigating through the crowd at circuit parties meant risking being crushed to death by a gauntlet of jock-encased oversized glutes.

Carlos, with a blessed work from home gig, had taken to wearing mostly nothing below the belt for the sake of comfort, his massive globes spilling out over the edges of the stool at his desk as he plugged away on his laptop. His phone pinged with a text from Nadir.

[Nadir: Can you check for a package? I'm expecting some new product they asked me to demo. Feel free to check it out, I think they sent extras!]

Sure enough, there was a package on the porch with a thank you note for Nadir and some guidelines for the kinds of posts he should make to feature their product. His fitness career had really taken off in recent months, which Carlos was glad to see. He opened the packaging and pulled out a stretchy tank top that promised to "Lift, frame, and enhance your pecs!"

Again with this, he scoffed, turning the fabric over in his fingers. Might as well take it for a spin. It is push day.

[nightlark100]

Consequences (Pt 10)

Me: Time for some Steph!

Steph: Noooo please don't drag me into this

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

Stephanie was making breakfast when the doorbell rang. She frowned. After the initial flurry of activity when her dad was declared missing (if she never had to see their lawyer again it would be too soon), she'd mostly been left alone. The only person who came to the house regularly was Peter and he had a key.

She eyed her plate longingly, trying to decide if she could ignore the visitor. When they rang again, she sighed and brushed her hands off on her flannel before heading to investigate.

She opened the front door and leaned against the frame. Outside were two people who looked far too perky for the time of day, a man and a woman both clad in bright t-shirts bearing the slogan 'Virginity Rocks'.

"Can I help you?"

"Miss Lauter?"

"That's me."

"Hi! It's great to meet you. I'm Jerry, and this is Jeri. We're youth ministers at the local church and we run the abstinence summer camp."

"Sorry, all my charitable donations are reserved for animal welfare charities."

Steph saw something flicker across Jerry's face for a moment but he quickly smoothed it out and carried on speaking.

"Oh we're not here for money. A member of our church asked us to come. We were hoping to speak with Grace?"

"Her parents sent you."

"Her mother. She's very concerned about Grace's wellbeing and we've always been close, she comes to our camp every year," Jeri explained.

"I can see your teachings really worked," Steph said snidely. A little unfair to Grace, yes she knew, but she couldn't resist the dig. Once again Jerry's expression faltered.

"You've got a bit of an attitude problem."

"I've been told. Although not usually by people who want to come in my house."

Jerry opened his mouth to say something but girl Jeri grabbed hold of his wrist, silencing him.

"Please, we just want to know Grace is okay. Her mother is worried and so are we."

Steph bit her lip. The woman at least seemed sincere.

"You can come in. I'll see if she's up for visitors. And if she's not, you go. I won't have you stressing her out."

"We understand."

Steph eyed them warily, before stepping aside and letting them inside.

"If you can just wait here for a minute," she told them before disappearing up the stairs to Grace's room. She didn't particularly want to leave them alone in her house but given how erratic Grace's moods had been lately (for good reason), it was best she check on her first.

She knocked and heard Grace's cheery voice from inside. Ahh, a good day then.

"Hey Grace. How you feeling today?"

"Pretty good! I didn't throw up this morning,"

"That's great. Think you can stomach some pancakes?"

"That sounds lovely Stephie!"

"We also have... visitors. To see you. Said they're called Jerry and Jeri?"

"Oh!" Grace paled. "Wh... why are they here?"

"Your mom asked them to come. I can send them away if you want?"

"No... I... Jeri is really sweet but... Jerry... boy Jerry can be... a lot."

"How about I send girl Jeri up to see you on her own?"

"Thank you," Grace gave her a grateful smile and started tidying herself up. Steph patted her shoulder and headed back downstairs. The two Jerries were lurking in the entrance hall, standing very close to one another. Like... weirdly close.

Steph cleared her throat, drawing their attention and sending them skittering apart. It was honestly kind of amusing.

"She said she'll see you," she told Jeri. Both of them made for the stairs but she intercepted boy Jerry. "Sorry, I don't think it's appropriate for a man to be in her bedroom. You can wait down here."

Boy Jerry looked more than a little annoyed but allowed her to lead him into the kitchen where she resumed making breakfast, moving silently as he watched her intently.

He looked poised to say something when the sound of the front door opening diverted his attention.

"I have returned from my quest!" called Peter. "Bearing the jam that my fair lady has requested!"

He entered and presented her with a jar of fancy jam in a dramatic fashion.

"No more fantasy TV shows for you," Steph told him as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I thought it was just Grace and yourself living here?" Boy Jerry's voice was icy and Peter stiffened, half turning.

"Jerry."

"Peter."

"What's he doing here?"

"They stopped by to see Grace."

"They? Oh... right."

"I can see that Mrs Chasity was right to be concerned about her daughter's wellbeing if you're... cohabiting."

"What, you think I'm going to get her more pregnant?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, we're not 'cohabiting'. I just have a key. And... wait, why am I justifying myself to you? This isn't camp."

"You actually went to their camp?"

"Yeah. Ted made me."

"Doesn't seem to be the kind of thing Ted would be in favour of."

"He's not but he had to go when he was a teenager and he thinks if he has to suffer, I should too. They confiscate my emergency chocolate and I always end up finishing the summer with a serious hand cramp."

"Peter!" Steph laughed. Peter flushed, realising what he'd accidentally implied.

"From making wallets!"

"Well it looks like you could use a little bit more wallet making Spankoffski, it doesn't seem like you've taken our lessons to heart."

Pete made a face and slumped into a seat next to Steph, resting his head against her shoulder. She smoothed down the side of his hair, drawing a sleepy smile.

"You not sleep well?"

"Bad dreams."

"That's your guilt for your sinful ways manifesting," Jerry said snidely. Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Well at least my sins only manifest as dreams and not as eight foot tall hatchet wielding woodsmen or piles of dead bodies."

"Huh?" Steph asked. Boy Jerry had gone pale and his expression was flicking back and forth between the pleasant neutral mask he put on and barely supressed rage.

"We're leaving. I'm going to inform Mrs Chasity that she should retrieve Grace at once."

"Grace is eighteen. She can't be 'retrieved' like a package," Steph said. Jerry scowled and went into the entrance hall, calling up the stairs for girl Jeri who appeared quickly. Her face was creased, clearly distressed by his shouting, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears when he forcefully steered her out of the house.

"You know the lords said about Grace killing 'dirty dudes'?" Steph said after silence had once again fallen on the house. "I vote him."

Peter laughed softly, before pausing and sniffing.

"Steph, I think your pancakes are burning."

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

Boy Jerry is hard to write :(

Consequences (pt1)

In which the Lords in Black aren't fully satisfied with Grace's sacrifice (or, the pitfalls of an abstinence only sex education)

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

She hadn't wanted to kill them, Grace thought numbly as she stared down at her dirt streaked hands, unable to shake the image of her latest victims from her mind. Yes, she believed that the behaviour she'd witnessed from the young couple, drunk and making out in the park, was dirty and perverse but she didn't want to kill them. And yet when she had gotten near, it was as though she was seized by a terrible hunger and she just couldn't stop herself.

She slipped to the ground, resting her head against the side of her bed and felt tears burning her eyes. It had been a few months since everything with Max... since she had given in to the primal temptations and sacrificed her chastity to send him to hell. She should feel... something. Relief? But her insides felt like they were rotting. She'd done so many terrible things and she didn't even have her unwavering faith to fall back on anymore, not after what she'd seen in the school gym. She didn't know if the colourful figures had been demons or if they truly were gods but it felt like jagged claws had slashed apart the fabric of her soul, leaving jagged doubts behind. Doubts and hunger.

At first she'd been able to ignore it but it had gotten stronger. It would rise in waves, crescendoing down onto her when they peaked and leaving her scrabbling for purchase as her mind crumbled.

Even the brief moments of peace she usually got between the waves had been lost to her now as she found herself battling daily with nausea, sometimes barely making it from her bed to the bathroom in time. She had tried to hide it as best she could but she knew her parents were concerned, had heard them whispering while she lingered in doorways. If it continued much longer they'd want to take her to the doctor, but she knew medicine couldn't help her. Her soul was sick, that was the cause. She would just have to pray harder. Maybe she could ask Stephie and Petey for help? Surely her friends would agree to pray with her when they saw how bad things had gotten.

Struggling to her feet, feeling her stomach twist painfully as she did so, she retrieved her phone from her bedside and sent Steph a text asking to meet up.

Her friends would help. They had to.

[ananxiousgenz]

once again thinking about this moment in a calm and organized fashion (<- is slamming their fist into the table and sobbing openly while crunching on glass)

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2