#its my day off if a parent needs something they can email or text

[heedra]

I work a job where I receive regular phone calls from ppl who aren't in my contacts that i need to answer. which means that when my phone rings and it's an unmarked number, i still have to pick up. which truly blows sometimes bc for some reason every single scam construction and maintenance company on the planet is convinced I'm my dad and really really want a quote on roof repair.

[trevorsturnioloappreciator]

Crush

Matt Sturniolo x Fem!reader

— Reader tries harder than most to keep herself from falling behind in college, when another student makes her more aware than she already is of it, her boyfriend unexpectedly shows up to take care of her.

cw: hurt and comfort, pure unadulterated fluff, pet names, reader basically gets called stupid, feelings of inadequacy, Matt makes it better

a/n: this was requested and i thought it was so sweet i had to do it. there’s an oc in this, she’s readers friend who is kind of a bitch to her, really no warnings needed this is a very sweet one and it’s definitely shorter than the rest of my works but idk if i’d call it a blurb

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Lately school has been crushing you, between your professors having no regard for your work schedule, sending you about four emails a day concerning your absences despite you completing the work and turning it in (with time to spare) and your parents constant checking in with their probing questions, always requesting more detail than your tired brain can produce.

You know they mean well, just excited for you, and they make it abundantly clear every time they call. Being the first in your family to attend college should’ve been something you take pride in, but for some reason it just makes you feel… disheartened. Everything was piling up faster than you could grasp it, deadlines flying by as you bury yourself in work and school, the only thing keeping you sane is your families consistent support and your boyfriend’s unending encouragement.

Matt had been your boyfriend since your sophomore year of highschool, you met in gym class when you tripped over your feet running the mile and the teacher sent Matt to walk you to the nurses office while you nursed your bloody nose with a tissue. It was definitely pretty embarrassing at the time, he’d been your “hallway crush” for a while, you totally thought he wouldn’t look twice at you, that is until he started checking up on you after the trip to the nurse.

That’s just the kind of guy you learned he was; always attentive and respectful, so sweet you’d think he was trying to get something from you, but he never was. Which is why you’re so giddy now that its finally Friday, all you had today was one lecture at 8 AM, leaving you totally free til Monday. Since it’s the first time in what feels like forever that you actually have a weekend off, Matt has taken it upon himself to drive up to your school and spend some time with you.

The promise of having two days open for Matt is keeping you motivated as you send out your last two essays you’d been simultaneously working on, checking the time to see it’s almost five o’clock. Your suite-mate, Tamara, had been asking you to help tutor her in organic chem, knowing she’d gotten out of her last class an hour ago, you shoot her a text to meet you at the library.

Slipping on some baggy jeans, your favorite wool sweater and a thick scarf, you grab your backpack and head off to the campus library. Tamara ends up meeting you just outside the door, seemingly in a hurry to get your study session over with. She’s very…in a word: intense, in a way she might not even be aware of, if the way her brothers and dad acted on move-in day was anything to go off of, you would have to guess they were the “trophies on the mantle, framed accolades and immense academic pressure” kind of family.

The way all your stress about being the best student came from within you, Tamara was surrounded by it, grew up in it; it was her baseline. She could be a bit abrasive but she was a good friend, never left you alone at the frats she dragged you out to the couple times you begrudgingly agreed to go with her, always knocked softly on your door with a hot chamomile (two honeys, one lemon slice) when you had a hangover after, so the small slights and jabs at your effort to keep your head above water could be easily overlooked.

That is until you’re back in your bed alone, internalizing it all. The both of you settle into a table tucked away in the corner as you pull out your notes and she plops her humongous textbook in between you two. All was going smoothly until you started to notice small cues that your student was getting frustrated, you slowed down your lesson and tried to really make it make sense for her but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Okay I understand I asked you for help but you’re really not good at this, I mean how are you passing this class and I’m not?”, this is just how Tamara is, it doesn’t bother you much. “Well, it is confusing, I stay up all night to get these notes to stick. Let’s try the diagrams-“, you’re quickly cut off by her sharp voice, “Alright stop with the condescension. It’s really pissing me off, honestly, I wanted to give you a chance to help me out, thought it’d help your confidence or something.”

She stands up swiftly, almost knocking her chair over as she shoves her things in her tote bag. “Clearly that was a mistake and a massive waste of my time; I should’ve just asked my actually smart friends in one of my upper-division courses. And please, don’t compare yourself to me.” Before you can even respond she’s out the door in a swirl of anger.

“Wh-“, you’re so dumbfounded, still seated, mouth dropped open like a cartoon. The sting of embarrassment hits you like a chunk of snow to your face, you need to get out of here before you really embarrass yourself. Haphazardly you pack up your back, pulling your headphones out of the mess of crumpled notes and blasting your playlist as you almost run out of the building.

As always, you’re loyal to a fault, already rationalizing Tamara’s outburst, she was just frustrated, I mean it has to be hard when you’re told your whole life you must be the best and then not being able to grasp what you see as a “simple” concept. It’s colder out now that it’s nearing dusk, trying to breathe normally becomes more difficult as her words twist and turn uglier in your head.

You just need to get back to your dorm, you will Not be seen crying in public.

Lungs burning as you pick up your pace, cheeks still burning in shame, nose tingling with the familiar feeling of tears building up behind your eyes. Finally you’re outside your door and there is nothing you can do to stop the fat, hot tears rolling down your cheeks, vision blurring as you fumble trying to fit your key in the lock, the second your door opens you let out a shuttering sob, but on top of your pitiful sound, there’s another noise…

“Surprise, baby…”, the voice goes from celebratory to a faltering confusion, trailing off softly. It’s Matt. He’s standing up from your bed and stepping closer to you, “Are you cryin’?”, he whispers out, nearly a foot away from you. Now you’re really sobbing, shrugging off your book bag and throwing yourself into Matt’s welcoming arms, “Matt…”, tucking your face tightly into his neck as your hands clasp desperately at the back of his crew neck.

Your boyfriend wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow morning and you absentmindedly remember giving him a key to your dorm at his request— “Just in case anything happens and I need to come get you.” —his scent, a mix of clean laundry and spiced cologne, his big hands rubbing your back, the warm hug; it’s all too much for you right now.

“Hey… what’s wrong, honey?”, Matt coos out, wrapping you tighter in his arms as he hears your breathing tighten as you work yourself up. “Baby.”, grabbing you around the shoulders, he pulls you away from him by a couple inches, tilting your chin up so you’ll look at him, “Need you to breathe so you can let me know what’s wrong…”

The guiding words are enough to help you breathe in through your nose and out of your mouth, tears are still running down your face but you are definitely feeling yourself calm down. Matt then drapes an arm around your waist, his opposite hand coming around your front to wipe at your cheeks and smooth down your hair. “Let’s sit ya down ‘n get you into some comfy clothes, hm?”

Still working on grounding yourself, you nod along to his words, it’s a good idea now that you’re thinking about it, your sweater feeling scratchy, pants too tight and the thick knotted scarf is starting to feel suffocating. Matt starts by unwinding it from your neck, tossing it over the back of your desk chair as you settle at the foot of your bed.

He then kneels before you, untying and popping off your shoes, leaving his hands to lightly massage up your feet to your ankles, standing up and giving you a soft peck before moving to your small wardrobe. “No…”, you call out softly, “Wan’ your clothes, please?” Turning to you, your boyfriend gives a warm smile at your meek voice and pouty face. “Awe~ of course, doll, what was I thinkin’”, he says teasingly, walking back over to your desk where his bag was, rifling through and pulling out a faded tee and some large, thick sweatpants.

You’re still feeling upset, heart squeezing, replaying the harsh words and the way your friend left you alone in that library, the humiliating walk home. The only thing keeping you present is the way Matt dotes on you, totally unperturbed by your big emotions, immediately slipping into the caregiver role he plays so well.

Coming to stand in front of you again, he bends to give you a kiss on the forehead, pulling away and letting your hair down from the clip it was held back with. Running his hand through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. The way he looks down at you has you blushing, so full of adoration and affection, it pulls you that much more from your dark thoughts.

“Let’s get this sweater off, arms up, sweetie.”, following his orders as he grabs at the hem of the top, pulling it up over your head, leaving you in just a loose tank top. After removing your undershirt, he replaces it with the soft cotton of his own shirt, reaching out for your hands to stand you up and repeat the process for your pants.

Once you’re all cozy in Matt’s clothes he maneuvers you to sit in his lap as he settles to lean into your abundance of pillows. “You feel better now, sweetheart?”, his hands are holding you by your lower back, fingers rubbing against the dimples there as his thumbs press softly into the crease of your hips.

“Mhm…”, you nod lethargically against his chest, “Wanna tell me what happened?”, he speaks against your hair before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “M-my friend, she asked for help with her class, ‘n I w-was trying my best… thought I was doin’ a good job teaching her…”, your voice cracks as the tears begin rolling again, Matt’s hands on your waist pull you closer to him, locking his arms tightly around your back while he listens intently.

“She basically called me stupid, said she should’ve asked one of her “actually smart friends”, ‘n then she left me- at the library, was humiliating, Matt… I know she was f-frustrated but it- she really hurt my feelings…”, you’re now completely sobbing again, breath picking up as you crush your face into Matt’s chest. “My poor girl. ‘M so sorry, sweetie, you’re the smartest person I know, y’work so hard to stay on top of work and school, making your parents so proud, d’you know how much they talk about you? Anywhere they go, anytime I talk to them, they always brag about you and they remember everything you tell ‘em about your classes ‘n projects.”

This shocks you a bit, of course you knew they were happy for you, but to think about everyone from your hometown getting updated on your scholastic endeavors brings a warmth to your heart. “R-really?”, you sniffle as you extricate yourself from where you were hiding in Matt’s sweatshirt, tilting back to look up at him. “Yeah, baby, everyone knows how much you care about school ‘n your high marks, don’t listen to that girl, she’s not your friend if she’s willing to take out her frustrations on you, ‘s not your fault she couldn’t understand. Remember when you taught me an entire section of calculus in two days and helped me pass the class? You’re not a bad teacher and you are absolutely not stupid. I mean it.”

He’s wiping at your face with the sleeve of his sweater, looking at you like you’re the only other person in the world and it brings a watery smile to your face, now the slow tears rolling down your face aren’t from sadness, but a contented gratefulness for your boyfriend. “T-thank you… Don’t know where I’d be without you, Matthew… I love you more than you could know.”, Matt kisses the tears from your cheek, lacing a hand through your hair to pull you back into his embrace and resting his cheek over the crown of your head.

“I think you’d be just fine, sweet girl, you’re a tough cookie.”, you could hear the smile in his voice and it brings a glowing blush to your face, “I love you. Always, my girl.”

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

Villain Kenji au - Chapter 1

Mentions of character death

This wasn't happening...it couldn't have been happening...

Kenji Sato...freshly turned 22 years old only two weeks ago. His baseball career was just starting and actually looking good for him. Yeah, it's going to be a long road ahead towards fame but nothing he can't handle.

But this...he can't handle this...

He was just on the phone with his mother who was in the Tokyo airport. She was there and wanted to let Kenji know she made it there safely.

It was a little funny when she accidentally clicked the video call button instead of the regular call button...

"Oh, my apologies ken, you know I'm not good at this technology stuff. But hey, at least you can see me!"

He saw her...he saw her die...

It- It happened so fast it- She didn't even have time to properly react. That...that thing...that scaled demon raised itself from out of the water and trudged itself toward the water.

It was unprovoked...yet it used violence in its wake on innocent bystanders. What could have possibly set it off? Kenji didn't know...all he heard was a roar on the other side of the phone and saw his mother look up in fear.

The last thing he saw was her frightened face before the phone fell to the ground.

He screamed her name at the phone, hoping, wishing for any sign of life...but nothing. The screen was black, so her phone was more than likely broken.

Kenji fell to his knees and dropped his phone...a lump was in his throat. He can't breathe and his heart was stop going at a million miles an hour

This...this is a joke; it has to be a joke...a sick joke...but his mother would never play a prank like this...

Kenji's voice was hoarse as he felt numb...was it the shock? He wanted to cry but something was stopping him

"Mama...please...be alive"

30 thousand people died that day...including Emiko Sato.

The funeral was heart breaking...He was quiet and numb for quite some time...only crying when he was in the safety of his room. And it wasn't many people there at the funeral.

Emiko cut off most of her family due to the toxicity she grew up with so the only people who showed up were her childhood best friends. They all gave him their condolences, but their words fell on numb ears.

One parent absent and the other six feet under...doesn't really do well on a guy's mental health. He constantly wishes he was there to save her. He constantly has nightmares about that day, some where he's holding her corpse...begging her to wake up.

Kenji didn't send out a funeral invite to his father because he was too infuriated at the mere thought of doing so.

"He should've been there...he has the suit for fuck's sake, and he couldn't save her?!...no...no, he can burn in hell for all I care!"

Hayao tried to call him, voicemail after voicemail, text after text. Kenji blocked him entirely. The final straw was the last email...

"Kenji...Kenji please, your mother isn't answering my calls and...I- I need your help. M- My body...I- it's giving out on me; I don't think I can fight much longer. I sent you a copy of the Ultraman suit...please Kenji...I need you to help"

The audacity...the sheer audacity of this fucker was immaculate. Ignore the existence of your son and wife since he was six years old and now you want his help? IS HE FUCKING SERIOUS?!

No...no, no, no...FUCK NO!

Kenji searched for his father's number and dialed it, waiting for an answer...he picked up. Ken laid down everything he felt for the past 17 years onto his father.

"You left me and mom to fend for ourselves, you left mom alone to raise me by HERSELF! You've only ever called ONCE on my birthday and never even called on mom's. You don't care...YOU'VE FUCKING NEVER CARED! And... when mom needed you the most...you let her die..."

"W- What" Hayao didn't understand...what did he mean by that?!

"Oh...I forgot to tell you...mom is dead...your WIFE is dead..."

Those words hurt kenji badly...his heart clenched at the memory. The memory plagued his thoughts and dreams since the incident.

Before Hayao could even reply Kenji threw his phone at the wall and fell to his knees. Angry and sad tears fell down his cheeks as he sobbed.

His fists punched at the ground ferociously. His ai assistant, Mina, used her robotic arms to hold him back so he wouldn't hurt himself further.

"Kenji, this isn't a good coping mechanism, you need to calm down!"

"FUCK. OFF!"

The young man screamed and thrashed about to get out of the robot's grasp. She didn't let him go and held onto him tightly until he calmed down.

After about 20 more minutes of his fury, he calmed down a bit and Mina took him too his room. She laid him down on his bed and he just...laid there. Too exhausted and emotionally drained to fight back..

"Get some rest Kenji...you need it"

The following days were like a haze for him. He was technically in and out of reality at this point. A week went by, and something came in the mail.

...The ultraman suit...the symbol that was the bane of his existence.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Kenji was actually in tune with reality enough to open the box and pull it out. Just seeing it caused a violent reaction as he tried to rip it, burn it, doing anything he could to destroy it but...nothing worked.

It was like Edna Mode made it or something!

Kenji was out of breath as the thing was in his hands. His fingers gripping it tightly.

Ken didn't want to be Ultraman, just to spite his father. Not only that, but Kenji would swallow glass before he would attempt to fight a Kaiju or Kindly move it away from where it was causing terror.

To be honest...he just wanted to rip those things apart, limb from limb, organ from organ. To slice, cut, and tear every fiber of them to shreds with his bare hands.

Kenji was going to throw the suit into the ocean, but a thought crossed his mind. The KDF. They were known to have more permanent ways of getting rid of Kaiju's...

And from what he could remember, His father hated the KDF ever sense they became a thing.

Then it clicked...and a bone chilling smile came upon Kenji's face...

"I'll be Ultraman for you dad...just. for. you"

This is the story of Kenji Sato...a man who's going to fall far from grace...and into the pits of insanity.

@jaidenk-nox FINALLLYYY MADE IIIIT! (Ik it's short, I sorry for that tho)

[lovetaroandtaemin]

All I Wanted

Chapter 7: Distractions

Osaki Shotaro x Reader

Word Count: 1,764 Genre: Angst, University AU Rating: Some adult themes. MINORS DNI!

Summary: Y/N and Shotaro both deal with negative feelings about their argument the night before by seeking comfort from other people.

Content Warnings: Alcohol use, Shotaro is kind of using Chaewon, Reader kind of uses Sungchan, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of sex but no smut. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know! A/N: If you would like to be tagged in the next update, you can either leave a comment on any chapter or the masterlist, send me an ask, or send me a dm! The previous 6 chapters can be found in the "All I Wanted" masterlist, which is linked here.

Fic is under the cut.

The day after Jaemin’s party, you considered staying home instead of going to your classes. You were devastated by your fight with Shotaro the night before, both because you felt guilty about the things you’d said and because you knew that he would probably never want to speak to you again. You’d never hear the end of it from your parents if you started skipping your classes and it affected your grades, though, so off you went.

When you got to your statistics class, you really wanted to try to sit somewhere different. Every seat except for the one next to Shotaro was taken, though, because of course it was. However, sitting next to him didn’t mean that you had to actually talk to him, so you didn’t say a word. Not talking to him hurt you, but you figured that he probably wouldn’t want you to.

Once class began, Ms. Kim explained, “Before we continue, I want to talk to you all about a research paper that I’m assigning. Each of you will need to choose a company that uses probability in its decision making. Then, you’ll need to write a paper about how the business uses probability. You’ll have three weeks to complete this assignment. More details and places to find information will be sent in an email by the end of the day.”

When class ended, Shotaro considered trying to talk to you. Then, he remembered the things that you’d said to him the night before. He missed your friendship, but your words hurt him in a way that he’d never expected from you. In the end, he figured that it was best for the two of you not to talk.

Since he really didn’t want to think about you, he decided to try to do something fun in between his classes. He really didn’t want to be alone, though, so he decided to call Wonbin. When he didn’t answer, Shotaro sent a text that said, “Hey. Just wanted to see if you wanted to grab lunch or something?”

Wonbin replied to the text almost immediately, saying, “Sorry, I can’t. Hanging out with Karina right now. Maybe another time?”

“Yeah, of course. Sorry to bug you,” Shotaro texted back.

Wonbin didn’t respond to any texts after that, and Shotaro continued wandering around campus in an attempt to get his mind off of you. In his travels, he ran into none other than Chaewon. He’d also been desperately trying to avoid her since Jaemin’s party, but in the end, he decided he’d rather talk to her than you. So, he gave her a smile and asked, “Hey, Chae, how are you today?”

“Hey, ‘Taro! My environmental science class is kicking my ass, but other than that, I’m actually in a fairly good mood! How are you?” Chaewon replied.

“I’m doing ok, thanks. Would you like to get lunch with me?”

“That sounds great. I just need to let Yunjin know that I’m gonna be getting to her house later than I originally planned,” Chaewon chirped before walking away.

While Shotaro waited for Chaewon to come back, he couldn’t help but think about you. He wondered what you were going to do for the research paper that was assigned and what your score was going to be when the project ended. A small part of him couldn’t help but hope that you would do poorly on the assignment. Originally, he just wanted to prove that he was smart enough to keep up with you. After last night, though, he decided that he really wanted to prove that he was smart enough to get a better grade than you, at least in the class that the two of you shared.

Shotaro quickly found himself regretting asking Chaewon to get food with him. Still, he made a conscious effort to look like he was happy to see his ex, smiling and hugging her when she came back to where he stood waiting for her. When she let go, he asked, “So, where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere is fine with me.”

“How about the café that’s across the street from your apartment?”

“That sounds great,” Chaewon said with a grin.

As you made your way to your car, planning to go home for a bit before your next class started, you saw Shotaro walking across the parking lot with the same girl that you’d seen him talking to at Jaemin’s party. You were pretty sure he said that her name was Chaewon, but you didn’t really care. All you cared about was the smile on Shotaro’s face as he held hands with the girl that he’d told you he had no interest in. Just like you thought last night, he was full of shit.

In a moment that you’d probably regret later, you decided to try to track down Sungchan. You hadn’t gotten any of his contact information at the party, but you were certain that you could find him somewhere on campus. You ended up finding him sitting on a bench near the parking lot, sipping a coffee and looking at his phone. You tried desperately not to let your nerves show as you walked up to him and said, “Hi. Sungchan, right?”

“Yeah. You’re (Y/N), right? I think I remember dancing with you at Jaemin’s party last night.”

“Yeah, we did dance for a bit. Sorry I left so abruptly last night. Some stuff came up.”

“That’s ok, gorgeous. I’m just happy that I got to see you again.”

You smiled and asked, “Would you like to go hang out at the park? I have a bit of time to kill before my next class, and I’d really like to spend it with you.”

“That sounds great. I’ll meet you there?”

“Works for me.”

You and Sungchan walked to your cars together, getting to know each other better as the two of you talked. The more you talked to him, the more you found yourself forgetting about Shotaro, which you were incredibly grateful for. As you drove to the park, the only thing you thought about was whether you would want a relationship with Sungchan. In the end, you figured that it would probably depend on how your time at the park went.

Your date at the park with Sungchan went much better than you thought it would. He was kind, attentive, and funny, not to mention incredibly attractive. Every cheesy joke that he told made you feel weak in the knees, and when he told you more about what he was studying, the obvious passion that he had only made you want him more. By the end of your date, you could definitely see yourself spending more time with him.

The more Sungchan talked to you, the more he thought about how badly he wanted a deeper connection with you. Sure, a lot of the things you talked about wouldn’t typically keep his attention, but he found that he did actually care about stuff like the history of horror movies when you were the one explaining it to him. You also really seemed to care about the things that he had to say, which was greatly appreciated. It was a refreshing change of pace from his last relationship.

Before you and Sungchan left the park to go about the rest of your plans for the day, you made sure to exchange numbers so that you could talk more. Once that was done, he walked you back to your car before getting into his own. You appreciated the time with him, but as you watched him drive off, your thoughts once again drifted back to Shotaro. Not wanting to ruin the rest of your day with unpleasant thoughts, you decided to call Karina and ask her if she wanted to get shitfaced after classes as yet another distraction. She readily agreed, and you discussed when you wanted to leave. Then, you went back to campus for your afternoon classes.

The rest of your classes went by quickly, and once they were done, you went back home to get ready for your night of fun with Karina. If it wasn’t sitting in the basket with the rest of your dirty laundry, you would have considered wearing the dress you’d worn to Jaemin’s party. Instead, however, you opted for a much more casual look: a tee shirt decorated with the logo of a band you used to be obsessed with and black jeans. Sure, it was a simple outfit, but you still thought that you looked sexy in it. So, off you went to your favorite bar.

The last person that you expected to see at the bar was Wonbin. He was right by the door when you and Karina arrived, however, and your friend was clearly happy to see him. Pretty much immediately, Karina abandoned you in favor of spending time with Wonbin. You wanted to be annoyed, but when you saw the way she looked at him, you couldn’t really be upset. You were really bored, though, so you decided to try to find something, or someone, to do.

While you were on your way to the dance floor, you ran into none other than Sungchan. The two of you made eye contact, and he said, “Fancy seeing you here. Are you here alone?”

“Yeah. I came with a friend, but she ditched me when we ran into the guy she’s been talking to.”

“I would say I’m sorry to hear that, but if it means I get to spend the night with you instead, I’m really not.”

You had to admit that you were surprised by Sungchan’s boldness, but you did enjoy the attention that he was giving you. So, in response to his shameless attempt at flirting, you asked, “Who said you would get to spend the night with me?”

“I mean, we’re here at the same time, aren’t we? Why not spend the night together?”

“That’s a good point.”

Sungchan smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist before starting to dance. You moved in time with each other while a shitty pop song played over the bar’s speakers, and for a little while, nothing else in the world mattered. Shotaro didn’t matter, your statistics paper didn’t matter, not even the fights you’d been having with your parents mattered. All you had to worry about was not accidentally stepping on Sungchan’s toes as you danced with him. A night free of stress was all you wanted when you called Karina, and thanks to Sungchan, that was exactly what you got.

Thank you for reading! I hope y'all are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it! If you did enjoy this chapter, check out the All I Wanted masterlist! If you want to read my other works, check out my main masterlist. If you want to see what I have in the works, check out my upcoming works list! If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, feel free to send a request via my asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading and interacting with my fics!

[foster-the-world]

Onward and Upward

Last day of school. Onward to 3rd grade, 2nd grade and 4K. Can't believe she's going to be a "big kid" in the 3rd grade. They grow up so fast, its goes too fast, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah.

They were happy this morning. Certainly no learning will take place today. Bee's teachers is bringing her 9 and 13yo. Bee loves, loves, loves the 13yo. Our flight to my parents house is 8pm tonight. Got an email that we could change for free due to bad weather. It looks like maybe the storm is coming in later. Fingers crossed.

The girls had their awards ceremony last week. Disappointingly 2nd grade only did "you completed 2nd grade" awards for everyone. Lame. 1st grade had individual awards but they were generic - leadership, academic excellence. Rebel won both big awards because she's a teachers pet type. I had to miss because I don't have vacation hours at work. My husband said all of the kids were really excited for each other. I loved, loved Bee's teachers awards last year. Every kid got two very specific awards. They were very, very sweet and captured each kid beautifully. The kids tried to guess who she was talking about and they were 100% correct because the teacher really understood each kid so well. I had tears in my eyes. One of my favorite things is to see my kids being known and loved by other people. I wondered if it would be less so with a kid who has much more challenging behaviors. But nope. Baby boy was very well loved and known this year also. His teacher sent me a long text message about how much she is going to "miss her boy." She also sent a ton of pictures that capture him really well. Bee wrote "You are a great teacher. You treated me like family" in her teacher's card. So sweet. Teachers gifts sent off (flowers + gift cards). Feeling relieved to have all of the end of school year stuff over with.

I'm enjoying Clair Lombardo's books. I got a bunch of new books for baby boy on hold at the library. Found some about personal space. He's more of a crasher into other people so I'm not sure it will translate but let's see. His social skills class finished yesterday. If insurance paid we would keep sending him but I don't think its worth the steep price for what he got out of it. He understands social rules he just doesn't always follow them. They have a summer camp - nice to know for future reference.

The ADHD parent coach has given us some good suggestions we are trying out. We mentioned taking him to stores is difficult. He wants to run around and touch everything. I think it would work better in the suburbs where they have carts. In NYC we try to hold his hand while holding all of our purchases. Stores are smaller so less space for him. Anyway, he suggested we try it when we don't actually need to buy anything. That way we have time to set rules for him (stay near us, don't touch everything) and can leave if he's not following through. We are also going to put him in charge of finding one item. He can then buy/keep the item if he follows all of the rules. He gets three warnings. Normally we only take him when we have to buy something so we can't follow through with the threat of leaving if he doesn't listen. Not sure why we didn't think of this before. Fingers crossed some practice will help him/us out.

His sitter said he is interested in reading the pamphlets/how to's from the ADHD parent coach. Which is appreciated. Once again thankful to have so many people who want my kid to succeed.

His sitter owns a backpack company. Such a cool idea. They are really high quality: https://shiftbackpacks.com/ I'm really hoping they go viral at some point. I suggested he try to get in the NYC private school circuit. Those rich people have money and are all about letting their kids express their emotions.

Bought my husband (and I) tickets to Sturgill Simpson in October for his Birthday. Birthday present done and I get to see a concert = yes, please.

[jellybeanium124]

adhd vent

cannot believe my psych might require me to do like $3000 and 16 hours of testing to """"prove""" I have adhd. give me 10 minutes I will leave you without a shadow of a doubt.

every couple of months I have this day. I never know when it will happen. but very rarely, I will have a day where I can just... do things. call the people I need to call, email the people I need to email, clean my apartment, run errands. I can get like 4 or 5 things done and I have to fucking milk it when it comes because most days are not like this.

most days getting 1 thing done is a win. getting nothing done is average. getting nothing done + being so filled with bees I can't even focus on stuff that's meant to be entertaining for more than a minute is a bad day. if I get the closing shift there's a 70% chance I will do nothing else that day because I do not have any sense of how time works and am worried if I leave the house to do groceries I will be late for work. on a good day I can do laundry before a closing shift. I never even remember to contact people until a time where I can't (at work, night). I can't even begin building habits like "exercise" because I don't want to do it and forming a habit for something that is technically unnecessary for my survival and I don't want to do is impossible.

there's a decent chance I will do absolutely 0 things on my days off because I'm so beat from work. this is part of why I'm getting into records. I have to LEAVE THE HOUSE to go to a record store. and because it is FUN and I might get a TREAT (new record) I am actually able to sometimes do it. this would be less of an issue if I had more friends where I lived. But Circumstances happened and now I only have one friend where I live. all my other friends are in [HOMETOWN]. I'm working on a second friend.

everything has an exact place in my apartment and if something isn't in its place (or for objects that move a lot, like my phone, one of its few places) I have Absolutely No Fucking Idea Where I Put It. I still have my TI-84 calculator from high school and I still use it if I know I'm gonna do multiple calculations in a row bc I will not remember the previous answers and the TI-84 records it for me. I keep it in my desk drawer. once I thought I lost my phone for like 10 minutes because I used my calculator and then put my phone in the drawer when I was done with the calculator. it took me forever to retrace my steps and realize what I did. I forget things one second after they happen.

I was constantly struggling to turn homework in on time from 7th-9th grade (12-14) and I only "fixed" that problem by developing severe anxiety over turning in homework late. and then I lived with severe anxiety during school years from 9th grade through my freshman year of college (14-18). idk why it suddenly didn't come back my sophomore year. probably because I moved out.

I wanna work in the film industry but that's driven by my effort and I can't even fucking remember I should be doing something about it most of the time!! and then reaching out to people is so difficult! sometimes for anxiety reasons but sometimes I just can't work up whatever I fucking need to work up to respond to an email. I love this work and once I'm on set I'm a hard worker and generally good (people seem to like me) but getting on set has been damn near impossible and not just because it's a difficult industry to break into.

this has just been my life. for 10 fucking years. and it's worse now because I don't have the structure of school or my parents looming over me. I only pay my rent because I have a calendar alert set up every month. I only pay for wifi and my credit card bills because they let you set up auto payments. my roommate is in charge of the electric bill and whenever they text me what my half of this month's payment is I have to venmo them immediately or it will never happen. when my calendar alert to take my birth control pops up on my laptop I don't let myself close it until I've swallowed that pill. when my alarm goes off telling me whatever's in the oven needs to come out, I don't shut it off until I'm out of my seat, otherwise I'd accidentally keep watching youtube or whatever and burn everything. everything's a calendar alert, everything's on a timer, I have a physical fucking whiteboard calendar on my desk to remind me of everything. if I didn't have these things set up and I didn't force myself to be diligent about it, I'd never remember when I needed to go to work, and banks and landlords would start coming after me.

my car is out of windshield wiper fluid. only the driver's side window goes down. the AC's out. and most recently the aux cord stopped working (this happened before and I got a new cord which worked for a short while so I think there's something wrong with the car). and I haven't fucking found the time to take it to someone and get it fixed. my AC is out!! in june!!! and I can only open one window!!! and I suffer because the car still technically works and drives me where I need to go and since this isn't life threatening or otherwise immediately pressing I have no idea when I will get to this!!!

I just want the days where doing two things being a major accomplishment to be a thing of the past. I want it to be a distant memory. I want to be able to function like everyone else.

you don't need to send me to someone for 16 hours across two days and cost me $3000. Idk what more proof you could possibly fucking need. give me the goddamn pills that will make my brain work.

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day four - it's alright

@anaroceitweek

prompt: rom-com/everyone is trans

relationship: platonic (could be interpreted as romantic/pining) anaroceit

word count: 1.7k

(cw -> transphobic parents, self-hatred, gender dysphoria)

---

“I thought we told you to stop using that name with your teachers.” 

Janus froze as he watched his parents scroll through his computer, unable to move as he did nothing but stare. He should have known not to leave his screen open while getting a glass of water. By now, he should have learned that his parents didn’t consider Janus deserving of any sort of privacy. 

“I did stop,” Janus lied through his teeth. “Mr. Diaz just forgot, that’s all. He’s really forgetful sometimes.” 

“What made you even come up with such a dumb name anyway?” Janus’ father asked, poison in his voice. “Janus. The name we gave you is much more beautiful.” 

“Maybe I don’t want beautiful,” Janus muttered. “Maybe I just want something that’s me.” 

“Your melodramatics are getting old,” Janus’ mother said. “You’re seventeen years old. You need to start acting like an adult. I don’t care what your silly little friends are doing, ruining their bodies and their reputations with all this stupid, disgusting, “trans�� stuff. But you aren’t getting pulled down with them. They’re never coming over here again.” 

Janus flinched, but upon hearing his mother's words, an idea popped into his head, and he looked over at his window. No, he tried to tell himself. Too risky.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Can I please finish my homework? It’s due at midnight tonight.” 

“If this happens again, your laptop is being taken,” Janus’ father warned. “You can do your schoolwork the old fashioned way. That’s how your mother and I did it, and we turned out just fine.” 

With that, they left, and Janus was finally able to breathe again. He went and deleted the email from Mr. Diaz after reading its contents, and then deleted everything else in which he was called by his true name. As Janus watched his deadname flash across the screen more times than he could count, he started to feel a deep, unstoppable self-hatred collect in his stomach. 

This wasn’t fair. 

He tried so hard to be who his parents wanted while also being who he truly was. But the two things were impossible to balance, and Janus was starting to wonder if he would have to just pick one. There was no way to make everybody, including himself, happy, and maybe it was time to just stop trying. It was getting too hard to hold everything together; to keep every secret and hide every bit of contraband. 

Before Janus could stop himself, he found himself tearing his pillowcase off his pillow, shoving a toothbrush, his meds, and his most masculine set of pajamas in. Today, after all, was definitely a masculine day, much to his parents’ disappointment. Sure, Janus didn’t mind presenting as feminine sometimes, but honestly, he felt much more at home when he was able to shift and transition how he presented depending on what made him feel the most euphoric on any given day. And the least dysphoric. That part was important too. 

The last thing Janus grabbed was hidden at the bottom of his closet, underneath his bin where he kept his socks: his pronoun pins. The ones he grabbed to wear said “He/Him”, but he took the other two just in case he felt the need to change it out at some point. 

It wasn’t like Janus to go to anybody’s house without texting first, but this was an emergency. After a very risky adventure of climbing out the window and jumping into the nearest bush, Janus was off to the Mendozas. He was just desperate to clear his head and get one night away from his control freak parents. He needed to be somewhere where he could just be himself, without being scared to death of being discovered. 

And the Mendoza house was the best place Janus could think of to do just that. 

Carla had told Janus that he was free to come over whenever he wanted. God, he hoped that she wasn’t just being polite. Carefully, and starting to regret such an impulsive decision, Janus knocked on the door with a timid reluctance. 

It wasn’t Carla or Remus who opened the door. Of course it had to be Roman’s bright, shiny eyes that looked into his and his goofy smile that appeared when he realized that it was Janus he was looking at. 

“Janus!” Roman cried out, “Oh my gosh, are you here for a sleepover?? No way, I was just thinking about inviting you and Virgil over! I would invite Logan too, but tonight’s star-gazing night, and I wouldn’t wanna distract them from that.” 

“True,” Janus hummed nervously, shifting weight between his right and left, causing him to sway awkwardly. “So…does that mean it’s okay for me to come over for the night?” 

“Of course!” Roman said, “Come in, come in! You can put on a movie in the living room if you want.” 

A smile grew on Janus’ face. He loved movies, especially when he was watching them with Roman and Virgil.

“I might just have to take you up on that,” Janus teased softly, ruffling Roman’s hair before going to sit down on the familiar couch. 

Carla was sitting on the recliner, typing on her laptop. She smiled kindly at Janus, and the action made Janus feel a hundred times calmer, somehow. Carla always seemed to have that effect on people, and it was mystifying how she did it. But at the same time, it made perfect sense. Janus figured that anybody who stepped up to the plate of being Roman and Remus’ foster mother had to have some tricks up their sleeve when it came to comforting. Though Roman came across as fearless, Janus was one of the only people who Roman allowed to see in his most vulnerable, fear-stricken moments of honesty, and he was certain that Carla had seen even more than Janus had. 

Curling up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, Janus picked up the remote and surfed through all the different streaming surfaces. Rom-coms were a guilty pleasure of Janus, and a very un-guilty pleasure of Roman’s, so Janus figured that it was a safe genre choice. When he finally settled on Candy Jar, Roman came over to sit next to him, but he gave Janus a decent amount of space, clearly unsure of how close Janus was comfortable with him being. 

“Virgil said he can stay the night too!” Roman disclosed with a grin, rocking back and forth on the couch while swinging his legs. “It’ll be the best sleepover ever.” 

“Yeah,” Janus said, starting to relax just a little more. “The best.” 

He pressed start on the movie, but didn’t let it play, wanting to wait until Virgil came around. His stomach was still tumbling, thinking about the inevitable flurry of phone calls and text messages he would get from his parents when they found out that he was gone. Luckily, Janus wasn’t ever dumb enough to tell them Roman’s address. If they tried looking for him, they wouldn’t even know where to start. But even so, the thought of seeing their faces, hearing his deadname get spat at him like venom, made Janus want to curl up into the blanket Roman had passed to him and hide inside forever. 

An arm looped around Janus’ shoulders, squeezing him ever so gently, and reminding him that he wasn’t there. Roman didn’t have to ask. He was the first to admit that he wasn’t the smartest, but in a way, he was. He got people in a way that Janus could never understand. It wasn’t exactly like he could read their minds, but he always seemed to have a trick up his sleeve to make everyone in the room happy. Maybe it was just a part of who he was, or maybe it was something he carefully practiced. Either way, Janus closed his eyes, trying to bask in Roman’s warm existence. 

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Janus jumped, and Roman leapt to his feet to get it. Virgil bumbled his way into the living room, his body hunched over and his eyes vacant and tired. Janus sat upright immediately, leaning forward on the couch to try and get a better look. 

“Virgil, are you okay?” he asked. “You look horrible!” 

“It’s- fine…” Virgil mumbled, sitting down beside Janus, still holding his stomach. His ears were tinged red. “It’s nothing. Reall- ow. Oww, fuck-...” 

“Did you get stabbed??” 

“No!” Virgil cried out, finally tearing his hands away from his stomach. Perfectly devoid of injury. “I’m just on.” 

Janus’ eyes widened in understanding, and then softened in pity. He knew how hard this time was for Virgil, and really, for all three of them, it was challenging. Janus could say he was lucky because he sometimes felt feminine during these days, while Roman and Virgil had no source of euphoria anywhere, knowing that their bodies were betraying them, and doing something that didn’t match who they truly were. It was hard to even think about, much less endure and talk about. 

“I’ll get you a heating pad and some chocolate,” Roman said. “Do you want the racecar one?” 

Virgil groaned before nodding. “Yes please,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. 

The racecar heating pad at this point was a Mendoza family tradition. Roman used it for his cramps, and Virgil and Janus eventually started using it for theirs too. Silly as it was, it made the whole ordeal feel just a little less dysphoric and a lot more lighthearted. Janus pressed play on the movie as soon as Roman came back with the warm heating pad and a big bowl of fun-sized chocolates. 

“Ugh, I hate rom-coms,” Virgil joked, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust. “They all have the exact same plot.” 

“No, this one’s different, I swear!” Janus reassured. “It’s funny. You’ll like it.” 

“Both of you be quiet, I wanna hear the movie!” Roman cried out with a laugh, resting his head on Janus’ shoulder. 

Maybe things sucked right now, and Janus didn’t even want to think about what it would be like at home tomorrow after sneaking out. But at least in this moment, it was alright. Roman’s arm went around Janus once again, and the heat from Virgil’s heating pad warmed Janus’ leg, and Janus had forgotten how good Milky Ways were since his parents never allowed candy in the house. 

And Virgil’s cramps were killing him, and it was obvious that Roman was worried sick. 

Things weren’t perfect. But they were alright. And that was good enough for Janus.

[ljf613]

I posted 3,049 times in 2022

186 posts created (6%)

2,863 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-word-huntress

@lady-tortilla-chip

@raayllum

@vantrisha

@bananzer

I tagged 3,040 of my posts in 2022

#all queued up - 2,940 posts

#fanart - 1,830 posts

#avatar the last airbender - 527 posts

#thoughts - 443 posts

#fairy tail - 292 posts

#fullmetal alchemist - 279 posts

#my hero academia - 232 posts

#boku no hero academia - 232 posts

#furuba - 170 posts

#fruits basket - 170 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and everything to do with what being around people who are overly concerned with their own personal physical appearance does to your psyche

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

110 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

#4

What really sold me on Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs was the part of the movie where Snow can't get the shoes off (because deep down she's no longer so sure that she wants to be who she is without them).

It's one of the most realistically accurate scenes I have ever seen in an animated kids' movie.

126 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

#3

Konekomaru: Hey exwires, here's a pro tip: do not write an email to your cram school teacher while you're seriously sick. Signed, a person who somehow came up with "dear hello, I am sick and not sure if I'll be alive to come tomorrow and I'm sorry, best slutantions, Miwa".

Shiemi: I mean, if someone wrote that to me, I'd probably believe they were sick.

Renzo: "Slutantions" has me crying laughing

Rin: i once emailed Shura with a migraine. a mistake. "I amsick will not to training because i have a heache. i Hope its very and i am so sorry love, blue" the subject line was "OW"

Izumo: THE SUBJECT LINE IS THE BEST PART JSJFISJDJS JUST IMAGINE GETTING AN EMAIL WITH NO CONTEXT OTHER THAN "OW"

Mephisto: As someone who runs a cram school, please send those emails because 1) We WILL believe that; no one would write that on purpose and 2) we need a laugh sometimes.

Ryuji: On the other side of this, once after getting taken to the ER by ambulance, I got an email from Sideburns, and the message had no text, just the subject line "you good?"

Yukio: Claritin makes me weird, but I have allergies so there’s about a month and a half block of time where I’m taking Claritin and am just weird most of the time. Anyway, last year, I got the flu or something and was also taking Mucinex. I told Shiro I couldn’t work one day by email except I couldnt think of what to say, so my medicated self decided to make a Fry meme. I think it said something like “Not sure if I can go perform an exorcism with a head the size of Gehenna, bottom text.” I didn’t think until the next day that it probably wasn’t socially-acceptable to tell the Paladin you weren’t coming on a job via Tumblr style memes. When i woke up, i found that he’d printed it out and taped it to the fridge.

Yukio: Oof you guys i turned on my laptop that I used to use back then. IT WAS ON THE DESKTOP. THIS IS WHAT I SENT. It’s even worse than i remember it

For @swearingintengwar

145 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#2

Adorable commission of Kacchan and Fuyumi-neesan from @wintertundra-art! I absolutely love how this one came out, thank you so so much!

145 notes - Posted March 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Apparently my best friend has never seen any of the How to Train Your Dragon movies, and I'm due for a rewatch, so we're watching them together.

We're about halfway through the first and there's two things that really stand out to me this time around:

Hiccup is funny. Like, really funny. (Sure, he's funny in the later movies, too, but there's something uniquely amusing about the self-deprecating humor of an awkward and lonely fifteen year old with absolutely no filter. It's great.)

All things considered, Stoick is actually.... a pretty decent parent. I mean, I've been reading a lot of HTTYD fics lately, and many of them portray him as this awful, domineering guy who doesn't care about his son AT ALL until he becomes "useful" or whatever. And watching the OG movie, especially from a more grown-up perspective on things, he's really not all that bad. Sure, he's not exactly getting any 'parent of the year' awards. He's a human, and he makes mistakes, but, considering the circumstances, he really is trying his best.

399 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[cuttoothed]

A little fic for @jonsimsandcats and also inspired by some adorable art on discord! Featuring notes on kitten rearing, and of course some Jmart because it’s me.

Jon works at the Institute here, but a non-spooky version of it!

*

Martin is doing a final check on the fish tanks when he hears the bell above the front door jingle. He sighs; he knew he should have locked up first. Just his luck.

“This is your fault,” he tells the angelfish balefully. They don’t seem contrite, too busy nosing in the fine gravel for any food they’ve missed. Martin walks out to the front of the shop, preparing his best customer service smile to tell whoever’s come in at—he glances at his watch—three minutes past eight that they’re closed, and no, they can’t just wander around for a few minutes to look at the animals. Honestly, some people seem to think there’s no difference between a pet shop and an art gallery.

There’s a man standing at the front counter, looking around anxiously, a bundled up jumper clutched against his chest.

“Sorry, we’re—” Martin begins, and that’s as far as he gets before the man unleashes a frantic tirade.

“Please!” the man says, “I need your help, I-I’m not sure they’re breathing and they were out there for hours on their own, I know you’re not supposed to move them in case their mother comes back but I couldn’t just—just leave knowing they were still there, and all the vet offices nearby are closed, this was the only place I could think of!”

The man is wild eyed, almost panicked, and Martin lifts both hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Woah,” he says, “Uh, maybe start from the beginning again? Slowly?”

“Right, ah, sorry. Sorry. I spotted them this morning, under a bush just outside my work.” The man sets the bundle of jumper down on the counter, and unfolds it to reveal two tiny scraps of fur: one gray, one black. Kittens, Martin realizes, so small they can only be a week or so old; certainly not old enough to be without their mother.

“I left them alone, because I’ve heard that the mother usually comes back after a little while. A-and I meant to go and check on them again during the day, make sure.” The man sounds anguished now, his face miserable. “But I—I got caught up in work, forgot about it. It was only when I was leaving that I remembered. And they were still there, on their own. Barely moving. Please—is there anything we can do?”

Martin looks down at the tiny creatures in their nest of wool; he can just about see the shallow in-out of their breathing. All day outside alone, at their age, the odds aren’t great. But he’s met enough kittens to know that they’re shockingly resilient little sods, and he’s never given up on a so-called hopeless case before. He’s not about to start now.

“You did the right thing moving them,” he assures the man, moving to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. “We need to get them warmed up and get some food into them. Body heat is the best thing for them right now—can you start warming them with your hands?”

“Oh—ah, yes,” says the man, turning to his bundle of jumper with a worried frown. Martin leaves him there while he rushes around the shop, grabbing kitten milk replacer and nursing bottles, and then into the back to heat two mugs of water in the microwave while he makes up the bottles. He pops them into the mugs to warm, and brings the whole lot out to the front. The man now has a kitten in each hand, and is holding them pressed carefully to his chest for additional warmth; his expression is still worried, but also desperately tender, and Martin feels a pang of something behind his ribs at the sight.

“One of them is moving,” the man says eagerly as Martin sets the bottles down. Martin can see the gray kitten wriggling weakly in the man’s grip, responding to the heat. Its sibling is still motionless, and Martin’s heart sinks a little.

“That’s great,” he says. “Hold onto her for another minute, and let me see if I can get her sister moving too.”

He holds out a hand, and the man almost reluctantly passes him the black kitten. Martin doesn’t try to notice that the man has lovely hands, with long, slim fingers, narrow wrist jutting out of his shirt sleeve, but, well, he notices a bit. He turns his attention to the kitten; he can’t make out the motion of its breathing anymore. He takes it in both hands and starts to massage it gently. It lies limp in his palms, head lolling, and Martin starts to feel despair crawling cold up his spine.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You can do it.” The man is watching him anxiously, the gray kitten cradled against his chest, and Martin knows he can’t give up. He keeps rubbing the kitten’s small body, trying to will warmth and life back into the tiny, fragile form. At last, after what seems like an eternity, the kitten squirms in his hands and a faint, plaintive mew escapes it. An answering mew comes from the gray kitten, and Martin laughs, relief washing over him.

“Right, let’s see if we can get them to eat.”

After checking that they’re not too chilled to feed, Martin tests each of the kittens with a drop of formula on their tongue; thankfully they both seem able to swallow without difficulty. He shows the man how to feed the gray kitten, holding its body in a neutral position with the bottle tilted for a gentle flow. It doesn’t take long for the kittens to figure out the process, and Martin can feel the tug on the bottle as his kitten begins to suckle.

“Oh,” he hears softly from beside him, and turns to see the man gazing in delight at the gray kitten, whose tiny, unfurled ears are twitching as it sucks.

“She’s doing great,” Martin comments. “Good job.” The man gives him a tentative, pleased smile, and Martin still isn’t trying to notice but it’s a very nice smile. “I’m Martin, by the way.”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon,” says the man, and then gives a small, tense laugh. “God, I haven’t even apologized for storming in here while you were clearly trying to close up for the night.”

“That’s all right, I didn’t have any exciting plans tonight anyway. I’d much rather be spending time with these little beauties.”

Jon smiles again, more sure this time, and all right, maybe Martin deliberately notices the dimple in his right cheek. Just a bit.

Once the kittens are fed, Martin shows Jon how to stimulate them; both of them only pee a little—poor things are dehydrated—but it’s a good sign. They clean them up and tuck them back into the nest of Jon’s jumper, where they curl up into a small puddle of black and gray. Jon gives a sigh that’s somewhere between relieved and exhausted.

“Thank you,” he says. “I, ah, I think I forgot to say that as well. You know a lot about this.”

“I volunteer at a shelter, there are a lot of kittens. If you like, I can take them for tonight and bring them in tomorrow?”

“Ah,” says Jon. “Do you think that’s—I mean...I-I’m not sure I’d feel right, handing them off to someone else. Not that I think you’re not capable!” he rushes to add, and Martin finds himself smiling.

“No, I get it. You found them, you want to take care of them. I’ll warn you, though, it’s a big commitment. For the first couple of weeks you have to feed them every two hours, even during the night, and then it’s every three or four hours until they start weaning. It’s like having a newborn baby.”

“I don’t get much sleep generally,” says Jon. “At least this way I’ll have something to do while I’m up all night. And my work is—well, I’ll explain the situation.”

He looks set on it, brow furrowed with determination. Martin considers arguing more: that a shelter will be better equipped to care for the kittens, that there’s no guarantee they’ll survive in any case, that Jon doesn’t know what he’s signing up for. But the shelters are always crowded, and kittens this young have simple needs, and really, a dedicated foster parent—armed with the right knowledge—is probably the best thing for them.

“Right,” he says, “Let’s make sure these two are well wrapped up before you take them home.”

He scrounges a cardboard box from the back and they settle the kittens into it, still wrapped in Jon’s jumper along with a soft fleece blanket printed with cartoon fish. Martin gathers a couple of cartons of liquid formula and extra bottles to get them started, and shows Jon how to pierce the nipple so the flow isn’t too strong.

“It should be warmed to body temperature,” he explains, “But not directly in the microwave—put the bottles in heated water, like I did earlier. Do you have a hot water bottle?”

“Yes, I do,” says Jon, frowning intently as he listens. Martin nods.

“It’s better than a heating pad at this age, they’re less likely to get overheated. Don’t make it too hot—body temperature, again—and wrap it in a blanket so they’re not touching it directly.”

“Got it,” says Jon firmly, and Martin believes him. He bags up the formula and bottles and an extra pet blanket, and presses them into the hands of a startled Jon; the till is shut off for the night, but Martin can explain and pay for the items tomorrow.

“What’s your phone number?” he asks, and Jon looks even more startled.

“S-sorry?”

“Or your email. I’m going to send you some links—videos, a couple of good blogs that should be helpful.”

“Oh, ah, right. Of course.” Jon recites his number and Martin saves it under “Jon (Kittens).” He peeks into the box one last time before Jon scoops it up, and sees the kittens snuggled in the folds of the jumper, paws waving in little kitten dreams.

“Thank you again, Martin,” says Jon. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” His tone is shy but genuine, and it sends warmth through Martin’s chest and up into his cheeks.

“Any time,” Martin says. “And feel free to text me if you need anything—if you have a question or...anything. Or call me if you like.” He’s aware he’s rambling a bit, but it’s not every day an attractive man says that he doesn’t know what he would have done without you, so he can hardly be blamed.

“I will,” says Jon solemnly.

*

He doesn’t text Martin any questions that night, but when Martin sends him the links to a youtube channel and three blog posts on kitten care, he replies:

Thank you :)

Martin spends most of the rest of the night wondering what that smiley face means.

*

He doesn’t necessarily expect to see Jon again, and certainly doesn’t expect to see him the very next day. But just before one o’clock in the afternoon the bell above the door jingles and there’s Jon, looking tired and more than a bit sheepish.

“I got all the way into work this morning before I realized I’d never paid for any of the things you gave me,” he says, reaching for his wallet.

“Those were gifts,” Martin tells him firmly. “Sort of a “welcome to foster parenthood” care basket?”

“No, I couldn’t let you—” Jon starts to protest, but Martin shakes his head emphatically.

“It’s no big deal, honestly. I get an employee discount anyway.”

“I...well, then I suppose I need to thank you yet again,” says Jon.

“It’s becoming a bit of a habit,” Martin jokes, grinning, and Jon smiles in return. He hesitates a moment before continuing:

“Maybe I could buy you lunch instead, then? To pay you back.”

“There’s no need, honestly,” says Martin, even as his brain berates him: What are you doing, idiot, he’s asking you to have lunch with him? Say yes!

“Please, I’d like to,” Jon says, and then gives a thoughtful frown. “Only if you want to, of course, don’t feel obligated—”

“I’m on lunch in five minutes,” Martin blurts out before he can overthink it.

“Great!” says Jon, sounding pleased. “If you have time, we could go by my office as well and visit the kittens. I just fed them before I came to see you.”

Before I came to see you, not before I came to pay you back, and Martin feels that warmth crawling up towards his cheeks again. Even if Jon’s intentions are purely friendly rather than...anything else, well, Martin could always use more friends.

“How were they last night?” he asks, and the smile that spreads across Jon’s face this time is pure delight.

“Oh I barely got an hour’s sleep,” he says, waving a hand. “And today they’re sitting under my desk reminding me every couple of hours that they need attention and that they are far more important than whatever I’m working on. They’re perfect.”

“Sounds like cat parenthood suits you,” Martin teases gently, and Jon laughs.

“I think it rather does.”

*

Lunch is...nice, and only slightly awkward in the “getting to know a new person” sort of way. Jon is serious, but also funny in an understated, acerbic way, and there’s a gentleness to him that wouldn’t be immediately apparent, if Martin hadn’t seen him cradling two tiny, fragile lives to his chest last night. He’s the kind of person Martin would like to know better, he thinks.

Afterwards they go to Jon’s workplace, which is extremely academic with a brass nameplate by the door and everything, and down to the basement office where Jon works; Martin doesn’t really know what archiving entails, but it looks like mostly a bloody great pile of paperwork. Jon’s two colleagues give Martin friendly and extremely curious glances as they pass; Jon pointedly ignores them in favor of directing Martin to his desk and the cardboard box sitting beneath it.

When Martin glances inside, the two kittens are curled up in the folds of the fish-print blanket, lying against the shape of what he assumes is the hot water bottle. Their bellies already look rounder than they were last night, thanks to regular feeding, and their limbs twitch as they sleep.

“I’ll take them to the vet for a check up after work,” Jon murmurs quietly, gazing down at them with a soft expression. Martin recognizes that look of adoration, and he knows this pair won’t be going to a shelter or anywhere else; they’ve found their home with Jon.

“They’re lucky you found them,” he says, and Jon smiles self-consciously.

“I think I’m the one who was lucky,” he says.

They spend a bit more time with the kittens, and then Martin realizes that it’s about time he got back to work if he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He excuses himself, waving goodbye to Jon’s still curious colleagues, and Jon walks him out to the grand front entrance of the building.

“Thanks again for lunch,” he says. “And—you have my number, right? The offer is open, if you need anything, just text me.”

“I will,” says Jon. “And, ah, let me know if you’d like to come and see the kittens again. Any day. Well, most days,” he corrects himself. “We could, ah, maybe have lunch again?”

“That sounds...really nice,” says Martin. Jon smiles, pleased, and Martin isn’t trying to notice the faint flush that spreads across his face, but it’s very cute anyway.

*

As he walks back to work, Martin’s phone vibrates with a text. It’s a picture of the kittens, curled up on top of each other, with the message:

Come back and see us soon!

Martin grins; the kittens, he thinks, weren’t the only ones lucky to be found last night.

[sabraeal]

If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

A million years ago (2018), I held a raffle to celebrate having 500 followers, and @bubblesthemonsterartist​​ was the winner of the grand prize-- five fics of her choosing. These and the other winners were all supposed to have their fics post in 2019, over the 12 weeks I was taking off after I had my second son. Unfortunately, MANY THINGS OCCURRED, and now I have finally, FINALLY made it through all my backlog to grant Joanna her wishes. And this was her first request, because I left her BOY in the SNOW on her BIRTHDAY 🤣

Gray light filters through her sheer curtains, hesitantly washing over her room as if it would hate to impose. It has none of the determination of the winter sun, muting pastels into something just shy of monochrome, like a reel of film left out of its can to age. It’s...nice. Cozy even; the perfect weather for a day where there’s no classes to rush to nor study sessions to sweat through, no place to go nor person she needs to be. She’s just Chizuru, and for a moment, that’s enough.

It never lasts.

Her phone vibrates across the bedside table, tooting and carrying on until it bumps into the lamp, buzzing angrily at the inconvenience. It’s barely a breath’s worth of fuss, but Chizuru flops over, brushing her fingers over the screen like touch might soothe it. Or at least, she tries-- the sleeve of her sweater’s slumped, making paws where fingers should be.

Chizuru blinks, but sleep clings stubbornly to her lashes, making the world bleary and indistinct. It takes a good rub to get them clear, wool scratching where she can’t shake away her sleeve, and--

And this is Father’s cardigan, the one she’d kept before everything went into storage. He might not be a large man, but it’s too big for her by far; she wears it around the house when she’s got a craving to be cozy, but it’s not meant for bed. Even now it’s knotted up in the blanket, toggles tangled in the crochet, tugging in places never meant to give.

Her hand hovers, a flinch away from one of those knots. “This isn’t my blanket...?”

Not the one she sleeps under, at least. No, this is a throw, one she keeps across the room on her desk chair for when the little space heater beneath it manages to serve better as a footrest. And when she moves it aside--

Oh my, those are her jeans. The same ones from yesterday, along with the worn T-shirt she changed into after Yamazaki--

“Yamazaki,” she gasps, scrambling for the phone. It takes shoving her sleeves up past her elbows, but she scoops it up, cradling it in both her palms. Oh, how she misses her tiny flip phone, even if Shinpachi called it dinosaur technology; at least then she’d been able to hold it and type at the same time. Now she just has to swipe with her thumbs, hoping it’ll rouse enough to show the home screen.

It flickers on, reluctantly informing her that it’s 10:24 am, and she has a blast email from the university, one that reminds the student body to drive safely and make good decisions over break. There’s also a text from Sen, one that starts, busy now but we can drop by after xmas 🎄, and below that--

[Susumu Yamazaki] Arrived at my parents. Hope I didn’t keep you up. Sleep well.

Chizuru groans, forehead dropping to her fists. After that whole production about him checking in, and she couldn’t even do him the favor of staying awake long enough to appreciate it.

[Me] Oh please don’t worry about me!! I fell asleep waiting 😂

It’d be silly to wait for him to reply. Her phone slips from her fingers, cradled by the crochet slung between her legs. If she was asleep before he got in, it would only make sense that he was still--

[Susumu Yamazaki] Must have been pretty tired. I only live 20min out.

[Me] You must have taken longer than that! It’s 20 min under regular driving conditions but there was all that snow

There’s a long pause, long enough that Chizuru pecks out, Right?, fingers hesitating over each letter. Her thumb’s hovering right over SEND when the phone buzzes, screen scrolling up to read:

[Suzumu Yamazaki] Almost called last night but glad I didn’t. Looks like you needed that sleep :)

[Me] Oh no don’t worry!! I wouldn’t have minded!! It would be nice to hear your voice

“Oh!” The phone jolts from her fingers, shock making even the rubber case sear. That’s what she gets for typing too fast for her brain to catch up; sure, it had sounded so nice in her head, but now that it’s out in the cold hard reality of text...

It’s too much. Like she’s trying to-- to--

Susumu Yamazaki is typing...

“Please don’t,” she moans, slapping her hands over her ears. “I didn’t mean it! I mean, I did, but not in a weird way. Ugh.”

The message disappears. No, flickers, on and off, until it finally settles back to a steady, Susumu Yamazaki is typing...

There’s no reason for him to take that long to reply, not unless he’s trying to find a polite way to say, you’re being really weird, or maybe, is there something wrong with you?

She can’t watch. Mercifully, the screen flicks off. It may not change the fact that he’s writing a scathing dissertation about her poor socialization, but at least she doesn’t have to witness it.

It does, however, display, [Hachiro] eta 30min

“Wh-what?”

Her fingers fumble across the screen, never quite managing to slide up enough to get it open, not until she picks it up in one hand and shakes. It shouldn’t work-- percussive maintenance only works on machines with cogs and springs, Saito has told her too many times to count, not computer chips-- and yet, here she sits, staring down at a string of texts timestamped twenty minutes ago.

[Hachiro] good morning chizu! mom has me out running her chores today 😒 but looks like some of them are going to take me past your place maybe if i have time i’ll swing by your place been a while since we’ve been able to hang out 😄 k all done eta 30min

“Oh,” she breathes. “But what am I going to do with Souji?”

When Chizuru had first moved in to the house, hair shorn and clothes baggy, hoping that her compression bra could do the heavy lifting when it came to masculine body shapes, the doorbell had been a stately sort of tune. Bing-bong ding-dong, the mark of a Real Adult entering their home, like Professor Hijikata, or sometimes even Dean Kondo.

Westminster chime, Shinpachi told her, with so much confidence she could only stare. What? I can know stuff. They used it at my school.

Private school. Souji tossed his hair out of his eyes. Fuckin’ prep.

Hey! Shinpachi’s a big guy, only a few inches shy of Harada and twice as wide in the shoulders. But even still, he can shrink so small, folding in on himself like a sulking child. I don’t think there’s any need for-- for hurtful language.

Harada only snorted, Rich kid.

Either way, she’d liked that one. Sure, it went on a little long, and if they got multiple packages in a day the halls started to feel a little cloister-like, as if she’d really been sent away to a nunnery the way Father used to tease. But at least when she answered the door, people looked impressed, or at least impassive.

That is not the chime that rings today, though.

“I didn’t even know they made doorbells with that,” Harada mutters from under his covers as she sprints past, tearing the towel from her head.

They don’t, Chizuru’s pretty sure, but she doesn’t have the breath to reply, or even curse Souji’s ability to turn even the most innocuous objects into landmines. No, she only has enough to manage a shrill, “I’ve got it!” before pounding down the stairs, hoping she can move quicker than Souji’s sense for chaos.

She flings open the door, wet hair stiffening in the cold, and there is Hachiro, perfect as always, a smile already dawning on his handsome face.

“Morning, Chizu.” He lifts a gloved hand, shaking the snow from his lazy curls. “It’s good to--” Hachiro blinks-- “is that ‘Through the Fire and Flames?’“

“Sorry to make you rush.” Hachiro toes off his shoes-- boots, really, by their treads, but they still look nicer than anything else on the tray-- not dripping a single drop of slush onto the floor. “You’re usually such an early riser, I never thought you’d still be...” He hesitates, clearing his throat. “...In bed.”

It’s silly to blush, but she does, ducking her head against her shoulder. “I was, um, up late last night. Not for bad reasons! Just, er, dragged my feet getting to bed.”

“It’s quiet in here today.” He steps up beside her, his elbow giving hers a playful bump. “Are we alone for once?”

“Er...no. Harada’s in bed, last I checked.” She’s not really sure he knows there’s hours before noon, but that’s not what Hachiro’s asking. “And Souji is, um...around, I’m sure. Somewhere.”

His mouth twists, but it smooths to handsomeness so quick it’s barely more than a trick of the eye. “Good thing I brought breakfast, then.”

He holds up a bag, glossy and bright and oh-so pink, the logo cute, if unfamiliar. “Mom had me go into town today, and it took me right past that new pastry place. The one that used to be Mastudaira’s?”

“Ah, that one! It’s...Meiji now?” She pushes up to her toes, peeking through the handles for a glimpse of wax paper  and crackled crusts. The reality, however, leaves her disappointed; instead of vanilla cream or cinnamon custard, she just sees...cardboard. Sleek, branded cardboard with pink ribbons wrapped around it, but still, she settles back on her heels underwhelmed. “Let me go get some plates. Maybe even a knife, or um, forks?”

Hachiro’s dimple deepens, smile tugged to one side. “Hands should be fine, Chizu. They’re not that fancy.”

“Oh, er, right.” Her cheeks burn as she pads past him toward the kitchen. “Just plates then.”

She expects him to duck into the parlor; the front one is typically where guests drift toward, the TV and sectional conveying entertainment area without the undeniable frat boy aura of the back parlor’s pool table and darts. But instead, Hachiro follows her into the kitchen, settling the bag on the counter as she drags out her step stool.

The cabinets aren’t terribly high-- if she stands on tip-toe, she can even reach the lower shelf with only the smallest tweak in her shoulder. It’s just that the top one, or well, either of the middle ones--

“Do you want me to get them?” He steps up behind her, close enough that she can feel the chill rolling off his skin, even through his sweater. “I don’t mind, you know. Must have these long arms for a reason.”

“No, no,” she assure him, getting one knee up onto the marble. “I can get them. Please, take a seat. We can--” ah, is it awkward to ask if he want to go to the parlor now that they’re already here? Would that seem pointed, like she’s insinuating he did something wrong, or-- “pick wherever you’d like to sit. I’ll be down in just a moment.”

His jaw sets, the way it used to before he’d start a scrap with one of the neighborhood boys, but instead of resorting to a full nelson to get his way, Hachiro simply steps back with a sigh. “If you say so.”

I’ve been small my whole life, she nearly tells him, I think I know how to manage it by now. It’s the sort of thing nine-year-old Chizuru would have said, puffed up and proud as she pumped higher and higher on the swings. She’d broken her arm jumping off them, fighting back tears as Hachiro ran to get the teacher.

“I’ve been wanting to try this for a while,” she says instead.

He glances up, wide-eyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.  My dad came out this way for work trips all the time, and he would tell me how delicious their specials were. Linguini and clams. Roasted quail on yam puree. All sorts of stuff.” Her smile twists, wry as she hops down, two plates in hand. “When I first came out here, I thought I could at least save up for a table at Matsudaira’s, even if it was just for myself. I was heartbroken when I saw the empty storefront.”

“I would never have guessed. When we were kids you hated that sort of thing.” His head tilts, curious, watching her beneath heavy lids as she sets the dish in front of him. “Is that something that interests you now?”

“Oh, no.” She hops up onto the stool, feet dangling from the rungs. “I just thought...I don’t know. It’s silly really. I mean, since my dad liked it, I just thought...”

Chizuru’s not good at this, the whole...talking about it thing. Her feelings are so...so vast, like looking out over prairie as the lightning comes down, or an ocean as the storm rises. She’s not like the professor, able to take these things and distill them down to their essence, plastering perfection onto the page for everyone else to consume. They don’t squeeze down into those little boxes, becoming something easy to handle, they’re just--

“It would make you feel like you’re with him.”

Her chin jerks up, meeting his patient smile. “That’s what you mean right? If you could do something he enjoyed so much, it might feel like the distance wasn’t so much.”

Warmth blooms beneath her breast, a heat that scintillates out to her limbs and back, chest squeezing tight. Even sitting there, her skin tingling, she can’t decide whether it’s a good feeling, or...something else. Something complicated.

“Yes. That.” The words leave her on a gasp, a sigh she no longer has the breath for. It’s silly to be so worked up, to care so much about not having to explain, that she sets her hands to work, glossy bag slipping against her fingers. “But then Meiji opened up, and I know it’s not the same thing, not even a little, but...”

“It’s close enough.” The bag’s top clenches shut as he puts his hand over hers, giving her a squeeze she feels down to her toes. One that stops as quickly as it starts; she barely has time to blink before he’s retreated to his side of the table, smile slanted and inscrutable. “Once he’s done with his done with his sabbatical, I’m sure your father would love to go with you.”

There’s something lodged between the muscles of her throat, brittle as a pitted stone and ragged as a sob, and she can’t trust herself to speak around it, not without risking its escape. So she nods instead, the motion doing nothing to knock it loose, only ache.

She tries to grab the boxes, flimsy little things that bend under the weight of her grip, but her fingers keep falling numbly off them, nicking her knuckles on their corners. It’s as if her hands know what to do, but her mind can’t focus on making them do it, at least not with any sort of skill.

“You’ll like what I picked, I think,” Hachiro tells her, lifting up one of the boxes with a delicacy and elegance she could only dream of. “I haven’t seen them around here before. They’re called maritozzi.”

“It...sounds fancy,” she agrees, glancing dubiously down at the package he’s placed in her palms. “It’s not...hard to eat, is it?”

His mouth quirks at a corner, and for a moment, he looks almost as roguish as he had at age ten, just minus the bruises. He’d been chubbier then, all the sweeping curves of his face softened by baby fat and his nanny’s cooking, but beneath that it’s the same bones, the same boy that had cried when a bully pushed him off the jungle gym, and then sat on him a week later when he’d tried to do it to Chizuru.

“Not at all.” His voice is different now, not deep like his father’s but full. Masculine, but pretty enough that the choir director would still compliment him if he ever went back. “They’re deceptively simple, actually.”

She braces herself, pressing at the corners until the paper hinge gives, and then-- “Oh.”

“See?” Hachiro’s too kind to laugh, but she hears the hint of one his his voice as she lifts the little bun from its box, careful to keep cream off her fingers. “Nothing to be worried about.”

There really is nothing strange about them, save that she’s never seen anything quite like them. The roll’s only the size of her palm, split down the middle and filled to the brim with black-flecked whipped cream, smoothed over until it looks natural, as if it were all one piece. “Is that real vanilla?”

His shoulder lifts, casual. “So I would assume.”

She takes a bite, or at least she tries to-- like anything with a filling, she nearly has to unhinge her jaw to keep cream from making a bid for freedom. But that first taste hits her tongue, and oh, it’s so, so good.

“So,” Hachiro hums. “Where is your father now?”

Her mouth is full-- he knows it’s full, he just saw her take a bite-- and yet he’s sitting there so mildly, as if it’s normal to hold a conversation this way, like she might not choke herself trying to swallow enough down to speak. Not that she wants to-- oh no, she needs every second plausible chewing can give her if she wants a believable answer, one that won’t make him give her that look, the one he had the morning he moved away--

“Er...” She takes one last swallow, loud enough that his eyebrows lift at the gulp. “I’m not quite sure! He moves around a lot for his research. I think...the South Pacific right now? His connection’s been iffy since he left the mainland.”

“Too bad,” he drawls, too mild to be sincere. “I take it that means he won’t be home for Christmas?”

She picks off a piece of roll, dipping it in the cream. “Ah...no. But, um, I think he’s going to call tonight!”

“That’s something.” Mr. Iba used to have a way of saying nothing so nicely it sounded like a judgement, and it’s clear that Hachiro’s inherited his gift. “Do you have anything planned for Christmas Day?”

“N-no.” It hadn’t bothered her, not really, but now that she’s said it out loud it feels...sad. Incomplete. Like watching an orphan in the first act of a holiday film, before Santa or the spirit of Christmas or whatever gets involved. “I’m just staying in, I think.”

His eyebrows lift higher. “Here?”

It’s not until she glances up, trailing an assessing eye over the kitchen’s corners, that she realizes the house is hardly festive. There’s a tree in the front parlor-- it used to be by the side of the highway, growing quite peacefully past the guardrail before Shinpachi and Heisuke had driven by a few weeks ago, pulling over and declaring it the perfect Christmas tree, and chopped it down with a set of hatchets they found under the seat of the SUV. It’s been a funny story to relay to Sen-- it’s only illegal if you get caught, she’d said, but Kiku says they’re stupid-- but when she looks at Hachiro...

Ah, well, the son of a judge may not have the same opinion about it. Nor appreciate their dubiously legal decor.

“It’ll be fun!” Chizuru says instead, forcing a smile onto her face. “Hajime left me his Netflix password, so I have all the Christmas Prince movies right at my fingertips!”

“That sounds like a pretty nice day, actually.” To her surprise, he’s sincere, smiling as he take his own bite of his bun. “Though I don’t think Saito’s going to forgive you for the damage you’ll do to his recommendeds.”

Her mouth twitches behind her napkin. “Don’t worry, he told me I could watch whatever I wanted...as long as I stay on the profile he made for me.”

A grin breaks across his lips, just as mischievous as when he used to pluck his mother’s cookies off the counter. “Oh, I see, you’ve already been quarantined.”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘special accommodations,’“ she informs him, doing a terrible job of hiding her smile. “It’s very kind he offered at all. He denies he even has an account when Souji asks.”

“Who could blame him?” Hachiro rubs his fingers, dislodging crumbs while his good humor smooths to vague distaste. “I shudder to think what might entertain that guy.”

True crime documentaries and Tarantino movies from her experience, but Chizuru doubts that will help her any. Not when his first impression of Souji had been ‘that guy looks like he pulled wings off flies for fun as a kid.’

“Anyway.” Hachiro clears his throat, arms folding stiffly behind his empty plate. How he eats so quickly, she’ll never know; she’s only three bites in and already her stomach is protesting. “I know you have you plans, but my mom wanted me to ask if you’d come over out place for dinner tomorrow. Her and dad are dying for an excuse to see you again.”

“O-oh!” Her cheeks heat, warm enough she’s sure he can see it. “Would they really--? Um...”

It’s been years since she’s seen them; the same with Hachiro until she tripped over him outside Hijikata’s class. But her memories of them, of their kitchen--

It’s like another home, one warmer and more full than her own. There had certainly been weeks where she’d been there more often than her own house. The ones where Father had to work late on his research, leaving her with leftovers-- and her too short to reach the microwave. But it had never occurred to her that she might be anything more than a suffered annoyance, yet one more mouth to feed when they had two growing boys. To be a wanted guest in a home like that...

Her mouth works, and she takes a bite of her pastry, waiting until is sits like lead in her stomach before she says, “I...I couldn’t possibly impose--”

“Of course you can.” He laughs, so easy, so careless, as if it should be obvious. “It’s hardly an imposition when you’re invited. Look, she even put you on my list! Right under dropping off the charity gifts, it says, get Chizuru--”

Her hand flicks up, deflecting the paper he pulls from his pocket. “I believe you,” she squeaks, barely able to look at it. “You don’t have to, um, show me.”

He hesitates, a smirk shoring up one side of his smile as he slips it back in. “All right. But you’ll come, won’t you? I’ll even pick you up.”

“Um...” His offer’s more than tempting, but the thought of showing up in their home empty-handed... “I don’t think--”

“If you’re worrying about gifts, don’t.”

Chizuru jolts in her seat, feet just barely catching her before she can topple out of it. How did he--?

“My mom said to say your presence is present enough. It’s corny, but she means it.” His gaze flicks to hers, too warm to hold, like cider fresh from the pot. “I think so too, if that matters.”

“Oh,” she breathes. It’s all so nice, but it’s also too much, like sticking frostbitten hands right into the fire, and she doesn’t know if she’s warming up or burning--

“You know, Iba, I can tell you hang out with Hijikata.” Souji sweeps into the kitchen like funeral shroud, leaving a pall over the kitchen with nothing more than a drawl. “You both don’t know how to take a hint. And by that I mean, the door is over there.”

“Okita,” Hachiro manages, his smile so saccharine her teeth ache. “I see you’ve decided to make another attempt at human socialization. I applaud your courage.”

When Souji grins it’s all teeth, prowling around until he stands at her shoulder. “Well, you know, I keep telling myself that no matter what I do, I’ll never sound as stupid as you striking out. And then I have all the motivation I need to keep going on.”

“We all have to find inspiration somewhere, even if it’s only from our own imagination.” Hachiro glows with a grace so serene that paintings of saints would patina with envy. “Ah, it seems I didn’t bring enough pastries for all of us. Looks like you’ll have to go figure out something else on your own.”

“It’s okay.” A long fingers reach past her shoulder, plucking the bun off her plate. There’s a soft crackle right above her ear, and oh, she doesn’t need to turn around to know where the crumbs tumbling down her shoulder come from. “I figured something out.”

“That,” Hachiro grits out, his smile finally as strained as his patience, “is for Chizuru.”

Souji’s arm dangles lazily off her shoulder, hand close enough that if he just tensed his fingers enough to curl, he’d brush below her clavicle. It’s...distracting. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

“I think--”

“So are you actually gonna go to this loser’s house? Hang out with his parents?” Souji snorts, bending close enough for his hair to tickle over her ear. “Food poisoning sounds more fun.”

A breath hisses between Hachiro’s teeth, but still he only says, so calm, “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”

Around the last of her pastry, Souji mumbles an unfortunately clear, “No.” With a swallow, he adds, “I’m having fun right now.”

“Is that so?” Hachiro’s mouth cants to a dangerous angle. “Then maybe you could--”

There is an end to this suggestion, Chizuru can see the way his mouth moves to make it, eyes glinting like a knife beneath the kitchen lights. But it’s impossible to make out what it might be, not with what sounds like a stampede coming down the back stairs.

“Hey, guys anyone seen my shir--” Harada hauls himself up short, nearly clipping his head on the top of the door. “Oh, how you doin’, Iba? Didn’t expect to see you here.”

One arm hooked over the chair back shifts Hachiro’s posture from high alert to casually confident, Souji entirely forgotten. “It was short notice. Sorry for the surprise.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” His giant hand paws at the towel slung around his shoulder, lifting it to dab at his hairline, and-- oh no, he’s not-- he’s--

“Would it kill you to keep your clothes on?” Souji grumbles, slinking from her shoulders to glare from a safe distance like a particularly hostile housecat.

The past three months had exposed her to so much bared boy flesh-- so much she’s sure Shinpachi only begrudgingly tolerates any clothes that aren’t made out of jersey or spandex-- that it’s practically the wallpaper now, utterly unnoticeable unless she’s got her nose pressed to it. But now that Harada is here, strolling through the kitchen, shirtless and dripping right in front of Hachiro, casually advertising her every day, well--

Chizuru can’t blame Souji; she’d like an excuse to slip out of this situation too.

“It might.” Harada scratches at the scar that bisects his stomach, thoughtful. “So does this mean the professor’s coming by too?”

Hachiro laughs, shaking his head, as if just gym shorts were a perfectly normal outfit for a grown man to wear in company. “No, as much as I’d like to see him today, I’m afraid it’s only me. I just stopped in to invite Chizuru to Christmas dinner.”

There’s no reason for it, not at all-- only minutes ago the offer had been as welcome a surprise as it was terrifying-- but now ever muscle stiffens, her knuckles white where they grip the countertop. As if somehow everyone knowing made it-- it--

A coy smirk hovers at the corners of his mouth, a silent tease ready to unravel her. “Oh, that sounds--” Harada glances down at where she sits, and his confusion snuffs his mischief as quick as a match-- “er...nice?”

“You mean stupid,” Souji mutters, but if Hachiro hears him, he doesn’t show it.

“I think so too.” It’s hard to resist when he smiles at her, bright and warm as the best summer day. “My parents will be so happy to see you again.”

“Oh.” Harada’s eyes widen until she can see whites around them. “That’s, uh...I didn’t realize you guys were...serious?”

Chizuru’s hands fly up, waving as if that might help dispel-- er, whatever this is. “Ah! That’s not-- we’re not together. We’re just-- we were neighbors in elementary school. I’ve explained this before...”

“O...kay,” Harada says, just as Souji adds, “See, I told you it was stupid.”

“They haven’t seen her for a long time,” Hachiro explains smoothly, making it all sound so normal, the way she never could. “That’s why they’re so excited.”

“It’s very kind of you to, um, offer, but I don’t--” Guilt’s been nibbling at her since he invited her, but now it takes huge, gulping bites, her confidence as tattered as lettuce left in the crisper. “I mean, do you really think that, er--?”

“Really collecting husbands now, aren’t you, Chizuru?” Souji snorts. “Don’t you already have one stalker that thinks you’re married to him? And now this jackoff’s taking you to meet his parents.”

Hachiro finally turns to him, flushed and out of patience. “Do you have a problem?”

“Yeah, your fa--”

“I--I’m not!” Her hands slap the counter, too loud, but it gets their attention, as little as she likes having it. “I mean, not collecting husbands. No, I mean, I’m not doing that either, but I’m also--” she takes a steeling breath-- “I’m not going. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Hachiro’s brow knits, the skin there as furrowed as his frown below. “You don’t need to listen to him, Chizuru. There’s nothing wrong about coming over, or weird either. You’re always welcome at our house.”

“I’m not. I mean, I know, I’m not listening to him. It’s just--”

There’s a thousand things she wants to say, a hundred explanations that bloom and rot off the vine. But none of them fit, none of them are what she means. There’s no way to say, it still feels too intimate without implying I don’t want to lead you on, nor I miss my dad without also saying I’m going to waste my life waiting for a phone call.

“I’m not,” she repeats, stronger this time. “Thank you for the invitation, Hachiro, it means a lot to me. But, um, I just finished exams last night, and I’ve really been looking forward to some down time. I just don’t think I’m ready to be good company.”

“You’re always good company,” he tells her, unconvinced. “But if you’re sure...”

“We’ll take good care of her.” Harada slings an arms around her shoulders, squeezing her close enough to catch a whiff of his bodywash. “I promise, no sad Chizuru. And maybe you can stop by again after the holidays and hang. Shinpachi and Saito are gonna be sad they missed you, man.”

Hachiro spares her one last lingering look before he sighs, easing into his laid-back lounge. “Sounds like a good time. Maybe we can even get Toshi in on it...”

He might be on errand for his mom, but Hachiro hardly seems in a hurry when he makes his way to the door, the late afternoon sun already threatening to fall behind the horizon.

“You’ll call me if you change you mind?” he mutters as he zips his coat, sending her a concerned glance. “Really, I’m happy to come out and get you, Any time.”

“R-really!” She pats his shoulder, giving him her best big-girl smile. “I’ll be fine. But thank you. If I do change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

His gloved hand lingers on the handle for a long moment before he manages, “Merry Christmas, Chizu.”

“Ah, you too!” He’s nearly got the door shut behind him when she adds, “Tell your parents I said hello!”

It closes with a soft shunk, the cold air displaced with a huff, and she slumps, all the tension gone out of her limbs--

��Wow,” Harada snorts. “You know, I thought Shinpachi could come on a little strong, but that was a whole other weight class. You should have told me he was your ex, I wouldn’t have backed him up.”

“He’s not! He’s just...overprotective.” She’s flushed as she slips past him to the kitchen, desperate to avoid that knowing side-eye. “He used to look out for me when we were small, and then we lost touch, and now...I...I guess he feels like it’s his job to make sure I’m taken care of.”

He nods, arms folding across his chest-- a detail she can note now that he’s put on a shirt. “So he’s making up for lost time.”

It’s weird to think of it like that, like taking care of her might be something to miss, rather just a burden that’s been foisted upon him. “Ah, I...guess, yeah.”

Souji scoffs from his corner, perched up by the sink like a judgemental cat. “Making up for lost blue balls is more like it.”

Harada ignores him, stepping close to put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, if you want to do a Christmas thing, we can just do one here. It may be just the three of us--”

“Count me out.” Souji hops off his perch, clinging to the walls like he expects someone to chase him out with a broom. Or worse, try to pet him. “I don’t do lame ass Christmas stuff.”

“All right.” Harada huffs out a laugh as Souji skulks up the stairs, shaking his head. “Just the two of us then. Maybe we’ll pop some movies on TV, make some popcorn? I can even get some hot chocolate going as long as you don’t mind it coming from a packet.”

He winks, and for a moment, it sounds...so nice. To be able to sit her phone on the arm of the couch and not have to worry about whether she might miss a call, or about whether she’s interrupting by taking it. To have company while she waits, a distraction, something to make her feel less like she’s missing Christmas, and more like something new--

“Mine will be slutty, of course,” he rumbles, so close to her side he nearly looms. There’s a smile when he says it, a twinkle in his eye, and sure it’s supposed to be a joke, but-- but she’s been here long enough to know that friend tends to be a stepping stone to fuckbuddy when it comes to Harada. Not something he plans, but something he falls into; a fiction he fools himself into believing right up until his flavor of the week walks out of his room in his shirt.

Movies and cocoa sounds like the perfect evening with friends, but there’s also something...intimate about it. Two people on that couch, curled up in one corner, sharing heat under the same blanket...Harada might have the best of intentions, but she’s not convinced he knows how to hang out with a girl and not have sex. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, so to speak, so long as everyone is having a good time. But for Chizuru...

Chizuru can imagine it. She would lay her head on his shoulder-- or rather, somewhere in the vacinity of his shoulder-- letting his hand creep around her rib cage, thumb brushing right below the lower limits of her bra. It would shock her; she’s not the type of girl who lets boys this close, but Harada’s always felt safe, treating her more like a mascot than a woman. She’d look up, confused, and he’d look down, fond, and then he’d lean in, bending down, and down--

and down--

and down--

Ah, he’s just...too tall for her. Sen may have told her that was part of the fun when it came to being just a hair below average, but when Chizuru considers the health of his spine--

She turns her head, hiding her grimace. “No, I think I’m-- I’ll be fine on my own.”

It’s Harada’s turn to look concerned now. “Are you sure, Chizuru? It’s really no problem for me to--?”

“I’m sure,” she says, firmer, in the same tone her father used to keep inspectors from asking more questions. The last thing she needs is for him to get the idea in his head to why; your height is daunting, is not an answer she want to have to explain, nor is, and I think you’re too experienced to stop at holding hands, too.

“Don’t worry,” she says instead, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “A day by myself is just what I need. Now, what do we want for dinner?”

It’s dark by the time she gets back to her room, her bedside table the only light in the room. She pads over to it, curious, wondering just why she might have left it--

“Oh no,” she gasps, hurrying over. “My phone, I’ve left it here all day!”

Missed texts and university emails stretch across the screen, but she doesn’t spare them a glance, thumb nudging her past every icon until she’s sure-- no voicemail, no missed calls, no emails with greetings from tropical climes. It’s Christmas wherever Father is, but he hasn’t thought of her.

“He’s not up yet,” she tells herself, the sound of the words calming her when thoughts can’t. “There’s lots of time zones in the Pacific. He’s probably just in one that’s still asleep. Waiting for Santa, I bet!”

That gets her to laugh, the strange ache in her chest easing as she settles on the bed, looking through what’s she’s missed. More holiday greetings from Sen and Kimigiku it seems, filled with semi-ironic usage of stickers; a message from Hijikata telling her to take it easy over break, and not to let the boys run her ragged; blast texts from classmates she’s friendly with, impersonal maybe, but Chizuru’s happy to be thought of; and--

[Susumu Yamazaki] I could call now if you like

She blinks, stymied. “Call? Why would he...?”

With a tap the chat unfurls beneath her fingertips. The message its at the bottom of the screen, timestamp that morning, a few minutes after her own text, one that read--

“Oh!” She claps a hand to her cheek, mortified. “Oh my gosh.”

[Me] I’m so sorry!! I didn’t see this until now!! Hachiro sprung a surprise visit on me. I had to get ready quick!! 😱 Well actually I was asleep when he sent the text. 😴 So it wasn’t meant to be a surprise. But it was!! 🤣

She sighs, letting the phone drop to her lap. Yamazaki’s at home with his parents, doing...whatever families do at holidays. It’s too much to hope he’s sitting around, waiting for her text even after she let him sit for a whole day unanswered. It’d be her just deserts to wait for hours, hoping--

[Susumu Yamazaki] That would do it.

She stares, speechless, her thumbs hanging limp on the screen. “Is he really...?”

[Susumu Yamazaki] Iba hasn’t been by in a while. Did you have a good time?

[Me] It was nice to see him! 😄 His parents wanted him to invite me over for Christmas. Hachiro must have told them my dad’s on sabbatical.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Is that were you’ll be tomorrow? That was kind of them.

[Me] Ah no. It felt too weird to see them for such a big event when we haven’t seen each other for like seven years. And plus I don’t have gifts! 😂

[Susumu Yamazaki] Iba’s parents wouldn’t care about something like that. Not if they’re anything like him.

[Me] Ah I didn’t mean to imply they would!! 😧 They definitely wouldn’t!! They’re so kind!! It just...felt rude. And I wanted to wait for my dad to call. So staying in seems like the best option all around.😄

[Susumu Yamazaki] Is there something planned at the house? Never asked you guys, I guess.

[Me] Sanosuke offered to do something festive tomorrow, but Souji isn’t interested.🤭

[Susumu Yamazaki] Okita hasn’t met a positive experience he couldn’t make worse. So what are you doing with Harada?

[Me] Nothing!! 😂 Sano is super nice. He’s just also very...friendly? A little too friendly I guess. I know he didn’t mean anything by it but being alone just the two of us... You know how he is.

[Susumu Yamazaki] lol Didn’t want to tell you what to do. But he has his reputation for a reason. Will you be okay by yourself? Or is it cool to not have plans?

I’m fine!! sits in the box, ready to send, but for once, Chizuru hesitates. It’s easy to give out niceties to Harada or Hachiro-- they want to be assured she’s all right, that they don’t have to worry about her. But Yamazaki has never asked her a question he doesn’t want a real answer to. To give him some stock response...it feels like lying, even if it was to put him at ease.

[Me] A little of both if that makes sense?

There’s no delay before he replies, I don’t want to pry. Do you want to talk about it?

Her fingers squeeze tight around the case, rubber buttons biting into the fleshy bits of her knuckles. She’s not used to doing this, to admitting things aren’t always sunshine, but somehow it’s easier to press the buttons than it is to speak the words, and once she starts it pours out of her, flooding the screen.

[Me] It’s just that Christmas was a big deal with my dad. It’s weird to not do anything for it? But also no one can be my dad? So if I spent it with other people I’d feel like I’d have to prentend it’s just as good. So if I’m by myself there’s no pressure to do that. I can just let it be bad or only okay. No one has to feel like they’re not enough. But also that feels a little lonely? So I don’t know. At least this way I’m the only one who has to worry about it.

The second she finishes, a tidal wave of regret threats to pull her under, to drown her in her own words. What was she thinking, telling him all that? He can’t have possibly wanted--

[Susumu Yamzaki] If you want

Chizuru blinks, eyes fixed to the screen. It’s a mistake, she knows; only half a sentence and there’s a frantic way Susumu Yamazaki is typing keeps showing up on her screen before it disappears once again. But still, she can’t look away, not when she’s pours all her thoughts out like pus from a boil, and his first reaction isn’t, Ew.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Sorry. Cat was helping.

She’s known Yamazaki for three months, and yet that’s the most personal piece of information she’s ever heard about him. She want to ask him all about it, whether it’s male or female, if it’s a calico or a tabby or something else she’s never heard of. Siamese, maybe? She can picture him with one of those.

Her lips clamp together, trying to swallow down a wiry giggle. Yamazaki has a cat. Or at least his parents do. There’s one on him right now, weaving through his arms, trying to get attention as he types. And he’s giving it to her instead.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Anyway. If you get lonely you can call me. I certainly don’t mind that I’m not your dad.

[Me] I’d like that. As long as you don’t mind that I WILL be watching the Christmas Prince and its associated films.

[Susumu Yamazaki] We can watch them together. There’s an app. It will be a relief to have an excuse not to interact with my family for a few hours.

There’s a knot in her throat when she hesitates, slowly typing out, If you don’t mind.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Not at all. I’ve been asked a total of nine times why I’m not going into acupunture. Even the Christmas Prince will be an improvement.

[Me] Okay!! Do you mind waiting a little bit? I’m waiting for my dad to call.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Take as long as you need.

When she wakes up, it’s with a start. The bedside lamp is off-- ah, she doesn’t remember doing that-- and so it’s with her hands that she reaches out, trying to locate rubber corners through her covers.

“I can’t believe I missed it,” she gasps, ragged with frustration. “He finally calls, and I’m not even--”

The screen lights up when she lifts it, but it doesn’t show a call, oh no, but--

[😽] dont say i never get u guys ne thing 🤗

She blinks, kitty face coming into focus. “The house chat?”

[😽] merry xmas u mfs 🎄🎅 www.ujkyo.edu/news dont say i never get u guys ne thing 🤗

[rkived]

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader 

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD

↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG

↳ WORD COUNT: 4k 

↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.

↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)

01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)

Minji thinks you’re starting to get better. 

Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between. 

Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.

‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’ 

Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed. 

‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’

‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’ 

You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.

‘‘How did you─?’’ 

Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’

Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship. 

‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’ 

You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.

How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you? 

You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms. 

Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him. 

Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done. 

‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’

A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in. 

Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly. 

Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.

You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out. 

Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good. 

Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?

You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so. 

You want to be mad at him right now.

Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there. 

And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party. 

That’s life for you. 

You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going. 

The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left. 

The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do. 

Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband. 

Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night. 

‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks. 

He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her. 

‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her. 

Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead. 

Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.

And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either. 

‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance. 

Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation. 

Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely. 

He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly. 

He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list. 

‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.

That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while. 

Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids. 

He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.

‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine. 

It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.

‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake. 

Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake. 

Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ���‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.

The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.  

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’ 

For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently. 

His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list. 

Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out. 

‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer. 

Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’ 

Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now. 

Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too. 

You to come back. 

The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up. 

Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning. 

Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.

And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.

The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before. 

‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.

Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop. 

Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back. 

Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest. 

He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak. 

It’s his fault after all. 

Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings. 

With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.

He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep. 

Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.

The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift. 

‘‘To: Sunhi ♡

From: Auntie Y/N’’

His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you. 

How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted? 

Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday. 

With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house. 

The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips. 

A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college. 

‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much, 

-Auntie Y/N’’

Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness. 

A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door. 

He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood. 

As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless. 

He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart. 

As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back. 

He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.

This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach. 

He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 15 - Playing with Fire [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 3800

Summary: Good intentions can lead to bad consequences.

Your first night with Spencer was different than any other time with anyone else you had ever been with, and you were one hundred percent sure that he would have some scientific explanation for it, but for you, the reason behind that was very simple.

Even if you couldn’t even admit it to yourself yet.

But for the first time in a very long time, your nightmares left you alone. Your sleep wasn’t disturbed, not by anything unpleasant anyway and you were almost sure that the small movement beside you in bed followed by a soft kiss into your neck was a part of your dreams.

The fuzzy feeling spread through you as the haze of the sleep slowly withdrew from your body and you snuggled closer into the covers, not ready to leave the warmth yet but as soon as you turned and felt the empty spot next to you, you opened your eyes, frowning. You sat up in bed, rubbing at your eyes and grabbed the folded paper lying on the pillow beside yours.

Beatrice;

She is the sum of nature’s universe,

To her perfection all of beauty tends.

Dante.

You smiled and your eyes skimmed the next lines under the quote.

New case in Ohio, they called in the whole team.

You heaved a sigh, falling back to bed again, pulling the silk sheets over your head and letting out a groan. The sunshine that seemed to fill your veins had disappeared already, leaving its place to coldness and you kicked off the sheets to walk to the bathroom.

After taking a long hot shower, you got dressed and blow dried your hair, humming a song to yourself, the memory of last night flashing in your mind, sending a spark through your whole system. You turned off the blow drier, stealing a look at your phone to see whether Spencer had texted you yet but there was nothing, so you grabbed it and left the bathroom.

As soon as you stepped into the kitchen, a shriek left your lips, making your mother turn around.

“Y/N!”

“Jesus Christ mom!” you pressed a hand over your chest, “How many times do I have to tell you not to break into my apartment?”

“It’s not breaking in if I have a key.”

“That key is for emergencies,” you let out a breath, “There’s a copycat killer sending me flowers, remember? Now is not the time for surprises.”

She tilted her head, “Speaking of, I heard you let the security I fixed you go.”

“I’m not going to walk around with bodyguards,” you said as you approached the coffee maker, “There’s security at my office already, I can’t have it in my building too.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“As long as you don’t give me a heart attack, I think we will be fine,” you checked your wristwatch, “Damn it, I need to leave in five.”

“Well, I won’t take much of your time,” she said and put a file on the kitchen island, making you look up from the cup you were pouring your coffee into.

“What’s that?”

“I took the liberty of contacting Philip.”

“Your P.I?” you asked, “Why?”

“To look into your boyfriend of course.”

You blinked a couple of times and put the coffee cup down, “Mom, no.”

“Relax, I didn’t read it.”

“No,” you insisted, “No way. Throw that away.”

“Y/N, don’t you want to know if there’s anything in his past that might be—”

“I’m not going to dig into his past!” you interrupted her, your heartbeat getting faster, “Anything he wants to tell me, he can tell me himself, I’m not going to learn it from a freaking P.I file.”

She heaved a sigh, “You don’t know what he might be hiding from you.”

“He’s not hiding anything from me,” you said, “Also, I know his father isn’t a serial killer, which is more than I can say for myself. I’m the last person to judge someone for their past.”

“What your father has done has nothing to do with you,” she said, “I didn’t tell Philip to look into his parents sweetheart, just him.”

“Throw that away.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/N.”

“I’m not going to read it,” you told her as you put your coffee down and grabbed your purse from the counter, “I gotta go, but lock the door behind you when you leave okay?”

“Y/N, we need to talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you turned around to look at her, “Mom, for the first time in my life I actually feel—“ you paused for a moment, “He makes me happier than you could imagine, okay? I’m not going to betray his trust, not like that. Ever.”

She shot you a look and you walked out of the apartment, your phone already buzzing in your hand.

“Erica?” you greeted your assistant as you answered the phone, “I’m on my way.”

                                                           ***

You definitely had not imagined the next two days going like this.

For starters, you had thought you would get to wake up next to Spencer. That didn’t happen.

You had thought you would have a peaceful morning. That didn’t happen.

You had assumed Spencer would call you, at least text you sometime in these two days, but that didn’t happen either. Between meetings and clients and running from venues to pastry shops to flower shops, you kept checking your phone but there was nothing. Even after you had texted him good morning, it was radio silent.

You tried to convince yourself that it was because of his job. You were busy during the day yes, but he was dealing with actual serial killers and their victims, so it was more than normal that he couldn’t find….five seconds to text you.

Maybe.

On second day though, you were getting way too restless.

“Nothing?” Mina asked as she came back from the bathroom and you put your phone down, taking a sip of your rosé and averting your glances to the other people in the restaurant.

“No,” you murmured, “It’s—it’s fine.”

“Is it though?”

You clicked your tongue and pushed at your salad with your fork, “No,” you admitted, “It’s not fine.”

“Thought so.”

“It’s just that…” you heaved a sigh, “Maybe— I don’t know, maybe I misunderstood what this was?”

“Or maybe he’s an idiot.”

“He has an IQ of 187, Mina.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not an idiot,” she pointed at you with her fork, “Listen, you know what kind of a job he has. Every second counts when you’re hunting down killers.”

“A text takes like five seconds to type,” you reminded her and bit inside your cheek, “What if—“

“No,” Mina said, “Whatever you’re thinking right now, that’s not what’s happening here. You just decided to date a guy who has the worst work hours, that’s it,” she tilted her head, “Speaking of, did mom seriously get Philip to look into him?”

“Oh my God yes!” you looked up at her, finally able to focus on something else, “Can you believe that?”

“Yes I can. I one hundred percent saw that coming,” she sipped her drink, “I didn’t think she would tell you though, not after what happened the last time.”

You frowned, but then a look of realization dawned on your face, “Right,” you said, “She did the same when you and Kenzie started dating. I almost forgot.”

“Kenzie broke up with me when she found out,” she reminded you, shaking her head, “It was the worst week of my life. I had to beg her to at least listen to me.”

“I mean I get that she was angry, but breaking up?”

“I don’t know how I would react if she did the same thing to me,” Mina stated, “I can’t blame her, not really. It was way out of line.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t read it.”

“You shouldn’t read it,” Mina said, “Did you get rid of it?”

“I told mom to throw it away as I was leaving,” you said, “I didn’t see it on the counter when I came back, so I guess she did throw it away. Or took it with her, I don’t know.”

“You do realize none of this would be happening if you didn’t walk around announcing you’re in love—”

Your eyes widened, “Mina!”

“What? Just because you didn’t tell him doesn’t mean it’s not crystal clear to the rest of us.”

“I didn’t announce anything!”

“You might as well have,” she said, “Now that you got laid, there’s no excuse to that behavior.”

“At least I’m not calling him my love,” you pointed out and Mina scrunched up her nose.

“Don’t remind me,” she murmured, “I don’t know what mom is thinking. Also, apparently, there’s this auction for charity and all of us are supposed to be there. You, me, Kenzie…. Do you want to guess who the sponsor is?”

“Mom’s boyfriend.”

“Mom’s boyfriend,” she repeated, clinking her glass with yours, “Trust me, that’s gonna be a disaster.”

For the rest of the day, Spencer made no contact with you, and it was becoming more nerve-wrecking than you had thought it would be. Every hour your mind came up with some theory that was even more ridiculous than the other.

You had started with the theory of that night before not being as good for him as it was for you and somehow reached the theory of him lying dead in a ditch because a serial killer had gotten to him. Your fingers were practically itching for you to call him but you managed to control yourself, pouring yourself a glass of whiskey and trying to focus on the emails your assistant had sent you.

But the buzz of your phone was more than enough to make you sit up straight and snatch your phone off the coffee table. You touched the screen, your eyes skimming the text.

Sorry I couldn’t call, the case was chaotic and we just landed. Can I drop by? I missed you.

You stared at the screen, trying to repress the fury bubbling inside of you but managed to reply with just one word.

Sure.

Two days of complete silence, and then I missed you.

Lovely.

You let out a breath, forcing yourself to focus on the screen of your laptop instead of the anger filling you, because if you didn’t calm yourself down you were pretty damn sure that tonight would end in a huge argument.

And you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to let yourself play that messed up pushing and pulling game with him, because you knew where that would end.

It took more than an hour and a couple of glasses of whiskey, but when you heard the knock on your door, you pushed the cashmere throw off of you and walked to the door to open it.

Damn it, even the sight of him at your door was more than enough to make you want to rush into his arms, but you managed to hold your ground, leaning sideways to the door to take a look at him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in these two days and he was clearly exhausted, if not physically then mentally. The thought tugged at your heartstrings and you pressed your lips together.

“Welcome back,” you managed to say, not moving an inch to kiss or hug him and of course that didn’t escape his notice. Even when he was tired, he knew exactly how to read you.

You opened the door wider and walked back into the living room, listening to him close the door behind him and follow you.

“Tough case?”

“Yeah- is everything okay?”

His question made you turn around to look at him and you crossed your arms, frowning slightly.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Hm?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, “I guess I’m surprised to hear from you, that’s all.”

A look of realization flashed over his handsome face, “I wanted to call you,” he said quickly, “I really did, but as soon as we landed in Ohio they took us into the crime scene, and the whole night I tried to crack the case but it turned out the killer had already committed—“

“A text would’ve been fine,” you pointed out, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, “You didn’t get five seconds to yourself, professor?”

“Will you believe me if I say no?”

“No,” you stated, “Not really. It’s fine, I just misunderstood what this was,” you motioned at him,”It’s—like I said, it’s fine. I just didn’t know it before so I got confused, that’s all.”

“What did you misunderstand?” he asked you and you shrugged your shoulders again like a petulant child, keeping silent. He watched you, his brows furrowed as he tried to understand what was happening before he pulled back slightly.

“You thought—“ he started, his voice soft, “You thought I’d leave you like that?”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

Don’t fucking say—

“What do I care if you left?”

Anthony, -your ex you had broken up with months and months ago- had once told you that during the arguments, especially if you were mad at the person in front of you, it was like you were possessed by the devil himself.

“I have no idea what the fuck you want,” he had yelled at you, “I don’t think you know either.”

Now to think of it, you were beginning to agree with him about you being possessed because you knew it was illogical, you knew you were being petty and nonsense, and yet, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“You don’t care.” Spencer repeated, his aura changing completely, his tone calm and collected.

You supposed that was normal. You had already trespassed into his area of expertise voluntarily, and yes you could push and pull someone until they broke, but Spencer could play these mind games and come out on top no matter how much you tried to beat him at that.

The thought of him taking a peek into all these defenses you had spent years building was so intimidating that for a moment you felt almost naked and blinked a couple of times, your nose in the air.

Walking away when you were at your own goddamn apartment was a challenge but your pettiness knew no limits.

“You know what, I’m gonna take a shower, it’s really late.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah listen, like I said, it’s fine. You missed me, you saw me and we’re clearly both very happy right now, so do you mind closing the door behind you when you leave?” you said, your voice cold as ice and took a step to walk past him but he grabbed your arm before you could do that, his grip firm but not painful.

“You know I can see through that, right?” his voice was low as your heart started pacing in your chest, the fire shooting through you despite anger, “Try to run away from it, lie to me all you want, but I’m not one of those clueless idiots around you. We both know you do care.”

It was as if there was an invisible electric wire crackling between your bodies, getting stronger and stronger with each second passing. Your eyes narrowed as you stood still for a moment, like a snake ready to strike, your mind going overdrive with where to attack him first.

“Then it’s a good thing one of us does,” you managed to say, your voice like a hiss, “Because we both know that you don’t.”

Something behind his eyes shifted but before you could even question what it was he had already pulled you into a kiss, his fingers buried into your hair while he walked you back until your back collided with the wall. You pushed his jacket off of him, not caring where it ended up and your fingers nimbly tried to get rid of his tie, a whine escaping from your lips when you had to break the kiss so that he could pull the oversized shirt you were wearing over your head. He pulled back for a moment, his fiery gaze focused on you and that was when you understood why he had stopped.

He was making sure he would remember this.

You pushed yourself off the wall, flinging yourself into his arms once again. It was nearly impossible to fight the urge of being closer to him, so you gave in as his hand tugged at the roots of your hair while both of you blindly tried to find the nearest flat surface, knocking over a vase and the floor lamp in process before he finally pushed you back to the couch. A squeal escaped from your lips when you landed on the soft cushions, but it soon turned into a moan when his body covered yours, his teeth grazing your neck.

“Well,” he murmured, his low voice in your ear giving you shivers, “Let’s test that theory then.”

                                                        ***

Of course he woke up before you. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he hadn’t slept at all but he looked better rested than when he first had got there, so you figured he at least got a couple of hours. He had put his pants and white button up on, but his tie and jacket were still scattered along the room. He was sitting by the edge of couch, his files all over the coffee table as his eyes darted between them and he dragged his fingertips over the papers, but when he felt you watching him, he turned his head to look at you, a smile pulling at his lips, mirroring yours.

“Good morning,” he said and your smile widened before he leaned in to kiss you.

“Hi,” you murmured as you reached out to touch his curls, “Why does your hair look prettier than mine in the morning?”

He chuckled against your lips, “You’re seeing things,” he said, stealing another kiss from you before pulling back, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone.

“What time is it?” you rasped out and he checked his wristwatch.

“7,” he said and you scrunched up your nose,

“How much time do you have?”

“Less than half an hour,” he sighed, “How much time do you have?”

“Perks of being the boss,” you wiggled your brows, “I don’t have any meetings before ten o’clock today.”

“Lucky.”

“Incredibly lucky,” you winked at him as you pecked him on the lips and grabbed your bra and underwear off the floor, painfully aware of his gaze on you sending fire underneath your cheeks. You got into your shirt, then narrowed your eyes at him.

“It’s rude to stare professor, where are your manners?” you asked, making him chuckle before he snapped his fingers as if he just thought of something.

“I almost forgot,” he said, pulling away to grab his satchel and he dug into it to pull out a small magnet, making you gasp and snatch it out of his hand.

“You remembered!” you said with a smile, “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll put it on the fridge. Coffee?”

He raised his brows and nodded his head, “Yes please.”

“I’m beginning to think I’m becoming a profiler,” you grinned at him and fixed your hair before jumping over the back of the couch. You had every intention to walk to the kitchen but you couldn’t help yourself as you leaned over to rest your chin on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, making him smile. He entwined his fingers with you, pressing his lips on the back of your hand, the warmth spreading from that spot through your whole body.

“Thank you,” you said softly and he turned his head to look at you,

“Of course, it’s nothing.”

“No, it’s… it’s not nothing.” You shook your head, “It makes me happy.”

The light in his eyes was so warm that you thought you would melt.

“Good, because I want—“ he swallowed thickly, “I need you to be happy.”

You nibbled on your lip before you stole a kiss from him,

“I am,” you murmured, not lying for the first time in your life. You rushed to the kitchen, putting the magnet on the fridge carefully before you turned the coffee machine on.

“So I was thinking,” you said, “About this 7 hour long conference.”

“You lost that bet, you have to attend it with me.”

“Ah no, I’m not trying to skip it,” you leaned on the kitchen island, “I just have a question.”

He looked over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

“There are bathrooms there right?”

“Of course.”

“And everyone will be pretty busy during and after the sessions?”

“Yeah because the Q and A sometimes goes longer than planned.”

“Great, so we can hook up in the bathroom?”

He blinked a couple of times, as if he couldn’t tell if you were joking.

“Come again?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “What? No one ever does anything fun in these conferences?”

“I don’t—“ he stammered, “They’re highly academic, so I don’t think… I don’t think anyone—um—”

“You okay there, professor?” you grinned, aware of your effect of your words “You’re telling me you keep attending these conferences and then you end up not hooking up with anyone?”

He shook his head, still confused and you winked at him.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” you said, “You’re going to be late if you just keep sitting there and gawking at me by the way, IQ of 187.”  

He tried to pull himself together, gathering his files as you turned around to get the cups out of the cabinet.

“For the record, I think people are having fun in a non-academic way in these things, you just don’t know it yet,” you said, pouring the coffee into the cups “In one of the conferences we had to attend during college, me and my friend got these flasks of whiskey, then we—“ you stopped talking when you turned around and saw him standing there, completely frozen as he skimmed the papers in one of his files.

“What?” you asked when his eyes snapped up to yours, but there was something behind his gaze, completely void of the affection you were used to seeing. He swallowed thickly, his jaw clenched and he threw the file onto the kitchen island, making you frown.

Then a shudder ran down your spine.

Your mom’s file on Spencer. The one she had told her P.I to prepare when she paid him to look into Spencer’s past. You had just assumed your mother threw it away when you couldn’t see it after you came home that day, but apparently you should’ve looked harder.

“Y/N,” his voice sounded way too distant, way too cold, “What the hell is this?”

Chapter 16

[yslkook]

#move the needle (10)

#corporate masterlist summary: you and jungkook go on a date (or two), and work is...work. word count: 10k warnings: cursing, alcohol, smut (fingering, grinding, making out, sex), discussions of mental health a/n: omg lol this chapter really got away from me. enjoy and ty to @cutechim​ for loving this couple 

Your calendar has quickly become overtaken with periodic lunch dates with Hae-Ri. She feels like a friend now, though you are still cautious with crossing professional and personal boundaries with her. But it feels easy with her- to talk about both the workplace and about personal things.

You’ve dubbed it powersuit hour, because you and Hae-Ri had both showed up in sharp powersuits without telling the other. You had wanted to make a good impression on her and it seems that she just lives in powersuits and heels.

You hate tall heels, but you put them on to match her (sometimes). You decide that the blisters and cuts aren’t worth it and opt for a smaller heel, loafers or oxfords.

Not a single hair of Hae-Ri’s is out of place, not a single smudge of lipstick can be found on her lips (even as she eats) and she oozes charm. She makes you want to straighten your back and sit tall (which you normally do, but now you’re just aware of it). 

She makes you want more. Well, she’s part of the reason why you want more from life, from work, from yourself.

The thought of returning to school gradually worms its way into your brain more often than usual, but you stamp it away as quickly as it comes. Dr. Lee tells you to embrace it, but you don’t think you’re ready yet. But maybe one day you will be. Dr. Lee tells you that you’re ready for more than you think you are, that you’ve almost allowed yourself everything you’ve subconsciously forbidden yourself from.

Maybe someday you’ll gather the courage to unlock those parts of yourself.

It’s only been several weeks since you had stayed the night at Jungkook’s apartment and had shared your first of many kisses with him. You find yourself daydreaming about his lips, specifically of his kisses and the slip of his tongue in your mouth quite often during the day.

When you had gone to Yuna’s apartment the next day to pick up your small duffel bag, she had only looked at you knowingly. Despite your cheeks burning, you neither confirmed nor denied anything.

And now, because you and Jungkook both can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other, you’ve taken to waking up forty-five minutes earlier than usual to drive into Seoul to pick him up and go to work together.

Grandma looks at you knowingly, teasing you most of the time as you leave the house. You only glare at her half-heartedly.

It’s a time for you both to have a coffee and a small breakfast together in his apartment. Sometimes Taehyung joins you, giving Jungkook sly looks. Looks that Jungkook pointedly avoids.

On the days that you and Jungkook are alone for an extra ten minutes in his kitchen, he finds himself kissing the gloss right off of your lips with you slotted in between his legs and his hands cradled around your hips. He wishes he could have just a little more with you, a little more than quick morning kisses and coffee, a little more than catching glimpses of you at work.

Jungkook wants more of you. He wants you in his life as a permanent fixture, as his girlfriend. As his best friend. Which is why he’s planning on asking you on a real date today. He’s timed it perfectly, he’ll ask you right after you park the car at work.

He’s already made reservations at a restaurant you had briefly mentioned to him over the last week. You had really only told him out of innocent intentions- simply to tell him just because you had found something you wanted to try. You hadn’t intended to say it as a means for him to ask you on a date.

But if it so happened that way, you wouldn’t complain.

The car ride to work is sometimes quiet, with the faint sound of his playlist coming out of the speakers. Sometimes you both idly chatted about what your morning would look like, or you’d both be singing along to whatever song was playing. You were either holding his hand or touching his thigh with your hand, at any instance that you could, whenever you could.

For someone who hadn’t been held or touched very often, you sure couldn’t get enough of it recently.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs when you pull into your usual parking space, “Gotta ask you something, baby.”

“Hmm?” You say distractedly, unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for your bag in the backseat.

“Pay attention,” Jungkook says gently, cupping your neck. You turn your head to look him in the eyes with a raised eyebrow. His palms feel clammy and he wonders if you feel it against your skin. But he doesn’t pull away.

“Will you-,” Jungkook takes a deep breath, “Go on a date with me? I made reservations at that restaurant you mentioned the other week- fuck, was that presumptuous of me? Should I have asked you first and then made reser-umph-”

You cut him off with a firm kiss to ease him. You smile against the kiss, surely a good sign. But still he needs to hear your approval.

“Ask me again, baby,” You encourage softly, thumbing away stray gloss from his lips.

“Will you go on a date with me? I really like you, if you couldn’t tell, and I want to go on a date with you,” Jungkook says, ignoring the way his cheeks must be red by now.

Your face splits into another beaming smile.

“Yes,” You breathe, “Yes, yes, yes. And if you couldn’t tell. I really like you.”

Another minute of his lips on yours, stealing your breath right before work. The worry of someone seeing you both seems to slip away with the slip of his tongue in your mouth.

“You must be a mind reader,” You say hoarsely, “Because I was just about to make reservations at that restaurant for us.”

Neither of you notice the sly eyes of one Kim Seokjin glancing at you both through the windshield as he walks past your car. You and Jungkook are too blissfully wrapped in each other to notice him.

“So,” Jin says, his voice saccharine sweet. You know that voice, but you’re hardly paying attention to him. He has a secret. A secret about you. 

“What?” You bark, not taking your eyes off of your dual monitor as you reply to an email from Hae-ri.

If you paid attention to Jin’s voice, then maybe you could have stopped his questioning before it started. But your back is turned away from him and when he smugly tells you what he knows, you nearly fall off your chair-

“I saw you k-i-s-s-i-n-g Jung-”

“Shut the fuck! Shut the fuck up,” You whisper-shout and discreetly kick him in the shin. He gasps, his pillowy lips parted in feigned shock.

“Hey! These are my good pants,” Jin protests indignantly, “Besides it’s not like either of you were hiding, I mean you were sucking the poor man’s face off-”

“Seokjin!” You hiss, “Will you shut up-”

“You should be grateful it was just me and not someone more important-”

“At this point, I would rather it have been someone else, considering how obnoxious you are-”

“Really? You would’ve rather your boss have walked by you sucking face with our resident golden boy?”

“Shut up,” You groan and sink into your seat but you can’t help but laugh, “We should’ve been more careful…”

“Oh so now there’s a we?” Jin says in hushed tones with wide eyes, “I knew it. Yuna and I both called it, after that night in the bar. But you wound me, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me-”

“Jin,” You complain, “Later, I promise.”

“Okay,” His face splits into a wide smile and he pauses for a second before saying, “I’m proud of you.”

He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before leaving your cubicle. 

Jungkook’s throat is dry when he pulls up in front of your house. He takes a sharp swig of water before texting you with nervous fingers that he’s arrived. 

And when you step out of your house in heels, a burgundy long sleeved top tucked into your tight, black pants, Jungkook groans to himself.

How do you always look so good? 

He immediately hops out of the car to greet you with a quick hello and a side hug. Without saying another word, he approaches your Grandma and swallows his nerves immediately and bows in front of her.

Parents and grandparents love him, he has nothing to worry about.

“You must be Jungkook,” Grandma says swiftly, crossing her arms across her chest and eyeing him carefully.

If he sees the panic in your eyes, he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

Jungkook smiles widely, bunny smile on display and Grandma, to your surprise smiles back. 

“You must be Grandma,” Jungkook says, his voice a little teasing.

“What gave it away,” Grandma says sarcastically.

“Your granddaughter has the same pretty eyes,” Jungkook says genuinely and you hold back a roll of your eyes. But Grandma eats it up, because who wouldn’t?

“Bring my granddaughter back before midnight, huh?” Grandma says, half joking and waving a finger at him.

“Grandma! Don’t embarrass me,” You nearly whine and try to tug Jungkook away but he stays rooted on the spot.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Grandma,” Jungkook says, “I’ll have her back safe and sound.”

“No funny business-”

“Grandma! We’re leaving,” You hiss, glaring at your laughing Grandma as you drag Jungkook away.

“Sorry about her,” You mumble once you're seated in the passenger’s seat and press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Grandma’s right there, don’t try any funny business,” Jungkook teases and waves at Grandma. Of course she waves back.

“Alright, princess, you ready for the best first date of your life?” Jungkook says airily, not really expecting a response. But you make a funny noise in between a laugh and a groan.

“I don’t have much to compare this first date to, if I’m being honest,” You confess with a shrug.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook says easily, “Besides, this is the only one that matters.”

Jungkook is the perfect gentleman the entire night, not that you expected anything less from the man who has a heart of gold. He walks you into the restaurant with a hand over your lower back as he smoothly gives his name for the reservation. The host leads you both to a quiet corner of the restaurant- you wonder if he’d specifically requested that. The lights are dim, miniature chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and illuminating you in a pretty golden wash.

“After you, baby,” He murmurs, giving you a squeeze of your hip and gesturing for you to slide into the mahogany seats of the booth.

Jungkook sits across from you, eyes sparkling in the glow of the restaurant. The host leaves you both with menus, embossed in red and gold.

Dinner with him is easy- it’s easy to be yourself, to let yourself relax. You playfully push your foot to his and let it slide up his calf. To which he does the same and winks at you. Talking to him is easy, and just being in his presence makes your heart burst and speed up in anticipation.

The backseat of Jungkook’s car even smells like him, but maybe that’s because your head is against the broad expanse of his chest. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne pleasantly fills your nostrils and you hum. His heartbeat is pressed right against your ear, a calming symphony that has you mesmerized. Jungkook’s arm is draped over your shoulder and he rubs your shoulder over your blouse.

You both sit in a comfortable silence together. You don’t really want to let the night end, not just yet. 

Jungkook looks down at you, a small smile on his face as he tugs your hand in his and squeezes. Your heart jumps in your chest at the small action- you can’t resist looking up at him and leaning in closer.

Your gaze dips to his pouty, pink lips back to his doe eyes. “Kiss me, Bambi,” You demand softly, and his lips are on yours in the same breath. He’s playful, squeezing your hips and giggling into your mouth.

But at some point, your tongue slips into his mouth with a satisfied hum and your hands thread through his soft hair, tugging gently. He moans into your mouth and you swallow everything he breathes into you.

Jungkook tastes like everything you want. The city lights around you fade away when you’re in his arms- all you see is the swell of his lips and the way he looks at you as if you contain the universe in your kiss.

You always want him to look at you like this. It’s easy to push away the distant memory of his cold eyes from months ago when he holds you tightly and kisses you as if he’s trying to pour his soul into you. His chest is flush against yours- his warmth enveloping you in every crevice. Jungkook presses his forehead against yours when your hips start rocking into his, a low and broken moan spilling from his throat.

“Jungkook,” You mumble, tightening your grip around his head, “Feels good…”

The heat of your clothed pussy against his clothed cock is enough to tint his cheeks. Jungkook holds you steady with one hand on your hips and the other cradling your neck. You lean into his touch eagerly, speeding your own movements up against him.

“Rock with me, baby,” Jungkook says hoarsely, moving your hips in time with his. You look at him with hooded eyes as you lean forward for a rushed kiss, the sound of your broken moans cut off by the urgency of your kiss.

Your hips roll into his in a practiced symphony and neither of you are patient enough to pull away for a breath. You just want him- you want all of him, anything he’ll give you. You want him to devour you- you want to feel his heartbeat beside yours.

You want him to feel good with you, as good as you feel with him. You want more.

“Can I touch you,” Jungkook asks softly, pulling away to look at you. You’re nodding already before he even finishes the question, impatiently untucking your blouse from the waistband of your pants.

“Take it off, baby,” You nearly whine at him, “Want you to take it off.”

“Are you sure,” Jungkook rasps.

“Yes,” You say impatiently, “Don’t you wanna see me baby? See your dream girl’s tits?”

Jungkook’s throat goes dry, his cock jumping at your words and you smirk at him. Your eyes are swirling with mischief and desire.

For him. You want him.

Jungkook tugs at your top impatiently, pushing it up and off of your shoulders and unclasps your bra in one quick motion.

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathes, eyes glued to your chest. He’s unable to look away from the color and swirls of ink painting your glowing skin, blooming on your shoulder and dipping into your chest. He sees a wash of color nearly hidden in the valley of your breasts.

“Will you tell me about your tattoos someday,” Jungkook asks softly, cradling your cheek.

“Mmm, maybe if you get a second date,” You tease and turn your head slightly to kiss his palm.

“And what does a guy have to do to get a second date?” Jungkook asks, curling his hands around your tits.

“You make me cum twice and you get a second date,” You sigh breathily when he squeezes you delicately. You grind your hips into his to get him to touch you more and he pinches your nipple playfully.

“Oh, that’s all?” Jungkook asks cockily, his voice bursting with confidence.

“You-ohhh, Jungkook,” You gasp when he dots your neck in featherlight kisses, tracing his way over your tattoos with his lips as he learns the curves of your body. 

“Shit,” You groan, throwing your hands out to brace yourself against his broad shoulders, “Fuck, Jungkook…”

He buries his face in your chest, inhaling your woodsy, musky perfume as his big hands trail your sides and heat you up from within. Jungkook’s lips suddenly shift to kiss your tits and you moan, possibly louder Jungkook’s ever heard you moan before.

You’d be a little more embarrassed (maybe, likely not), if you didn’t want him to do that again. And again. And again.

Jungkook thinks your tits look good in his hands and he thinks buried in between them might be one of his favorite places to be. You’re so warm in his lap- you look like an angel, a goddess above him.

His dream girl. His dream girl in his lap, in his arms, moaning his name. Moaning for him. 

His cock hardens more just from your soft sounds. He’s desperate for you, rutting his hips against you as he licks your nipple. He looks up, watching for your reaction- your eyes are hooded, lips parted in desire. You thread your hands through his dark strands and push his head further into your chest. 

Jungkook pulls away from kissing your tits with a soft pop! The haze clouding your mind begins to lift and you frown at him, about to chastise him, but he only maneuvers you so that your back is flat against the car seat and he’s hovering over you.

Your breasts bounce and he can’t look away. He is only a man, after all. You smirk at him and drag your foot over his thigh before wrapping both legs around his narrow waist.

“Do that again. I’ve never felt like that before,” You confess airily, pressing a hand to his chest and scratching lightly.

“Nobody’s sucked on your tits before, princess?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, not like that…” You shrug, “And… it’s been a long time, you know? I didn’t really… Didn’t really want to do much of anything for a long time.”

“I know, baby,” Jungkook coos, settling his weight on top of you and kissing you deeply, “I’m happy you picked me.”

“Me too,” You mumble, “I’m happy you picked me, too.”

It’s a tight fit, but Jungkook finds a way to make it work. You tug at his sweater wanting to feel and see his arms and his chest. He’s your Bambi, your golden boy, and you want to feel golden, too.

Jungkook pulls away for a moment and pulls his sweater off of him, rustling his dark hair in the process. You hum, delighted that his bare skin is only inches away from you.

You trace his tattoos with your fingers curiously, enjoying the way the corded muscle of his arm feels under your skin. “Will you tell me about your tattoos someday,” You repeat his words back to him, rubbing his arm fondly.

“Maybe if you get a second date,” Jungkook teases, giving your words right back to you. He kisses your lips quickly, then licks a stripe down your neck, kissing your collarbones...your chest, your belly. He wants to keep his lips here, along the swell of your tits, just to pull those noises from your throat for even a second longer.

“And what does a girl have to do to get a second date,” You exhale shakily.

“Mmm,” Jungkook says thoughtfully, “I make you cum twice, and you get a second date.”

A choked noise rips from your throat and Jungkook only grins salaciously at you. He brackets your head with his thick forearms- you can see the blooms and swirls of colors of his tattoos in your periphery. But really all you want to do is focus on him.

Jungkook can’t get enough of the smooth push and pull of your lips against his. Somehow, you both move in synchronized harmony- you follow him and he follows you. You swallow his moans and he swallows your sighs. Give and take.

But right now, he just wants to give. 

You roam his forearms, his biceps, squeezing and touching lightly as you make your way to his shoulder blades. A moan of his name sits in between you both when you feel the corded lines of muscle.

You can’t believe this beautiful man is laying on top of you like this. “You’re pretty,” You mumble, “Pretty boy Bambi.”

Jungkook takes your teasing without complaining, so long as you continue to rake your nails along his back like that. 

Besides he has plenty of time to quiet your teasing.

Your back arches off of the seat when he licks your nipple, swirling his tongue around your sensitive skin. 

You didn’t think it could ever feel that good, but the man clearly knows what he’s doing. And that’s a conversation for another time. As he nips and licks your tits, he grinds his hips into yours. You feel the hot glide of his clothed, hardened cock against your already soaked pussy- and how are you supposed to let him leave this car without making him cum as well?

“You could cum like this, couldn't you?” Jungkook says softly, looking up at you from your chest with hooded eyes. 

You nod- words seem to fail you.

“Use your words, baby,” Jungkook encourages, cupping your chin with his index finger and his thumb. 

“Yes, but-“ You cut your train of thought off as he speeds his hips up against you. He’s struggling too, it seems, his brow furrowed and sweat beginning to gather at his forehead. His hair falls into his eyes and you instantly push it away.

You always want to see his eyes.

“But what,” Jungkook murmurs. his grip on you is tight, and he’s right- you could most definitely cum like this. Just from his simple touch and his warm mouth.

“More, I want more,” You breathe, “Will you…”

But Jungkook doesn’t let you finish, only rolling your nipples in his fingers as he kisses your tits. He senses your thighs beginning to quake and your eyes beginning to roll back. You latch your hands onto his upper arms as Jungkook rocks into you, and you feel the coil snap with a loud call of his name you cum in his arms.

He hasn’t even touched you yet. He smirks at you but you return his gaze unabashedly, despite the heat in your cheeks.

If you look that beautiful coming undone just from grinding on him, he wonders how you’ll look when he eats you out. When he fucks you on his cock. Or even his fingers. 

“One down, one to go,” Jungkook teases and you swat his chest. 

“I liked that,” You admit softly and pull him down for a gentle kiss to his neck and then his lips.

“Me too,” Jungkook smiles, eyes sparkling as he nudges your nose with his. He kisses you again, lazily and slowly as you float down from your bliss. Your bliss with him in it.

“You were saying something earlier,” Jungkook murmurs, barely a hair’s breadth from you.

“Oh,” You reply, a little dazed, “Oh yeah.”

“Wanna finish your train of thought?” 

“Absolutely,” You grin, threading your hand through his and pulling his other hand to rest on your chest. You hum contentedly when he squeezes, eyes glossing over your tattoos in curiosity.

For another day.

“I wanna fuck you,” You say bluntly, taking Jungkook by surprise. His lips part in surprise and it makes you giggle. “What, cat got your tongue, Bambi?”

“N-no,” Jungkook stutters, “No. ‘M not fuckin’ you for the first time in my car.”

“And why not,” You complain, raking your nails over his abs impatiently and palming his cock through his pants, “I mean I know, it’s a tight fit, but-”

“No,” Jungkook says firmly, “I’m not making love with you for the first time in my car, baby. Gonna wine, dine, and sixty-nine you-”

“Oh, now you’re making love to me, huh?” You tease with a knowing smile, cradling his face in your hands, “But I just want your cock, and you’ve already wine and dined me…”

“You’ll have my fingers instead,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice low and rough. You gasp at how deep his voice has gone, how smooth it sounds. 

How his words demand respect and you want to listen to him.

“How does that sound, baby? Does my pretty baby want my fingers?” Jungkook asks and you nod, biting your bottom lip harshly.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop,” Jungkook says, pulling your bottom lip out of the grip your teeth have on it.

You only nod but Jungkook shakes his head. “Use your words, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, “Use your words with me.”

“Y-yes,” You say, cheeks heating up, “Want your fingers. And I-I’ll tell you if I want you to s-stop.”

“Good girl,” Jungkook says, not missing your soft but sharp inhale, “Gonna unbutton your pants now, alright?”

His hands are gentle and firm as he drags your pants down your legs, but not all the way. After all, it’s too tight of a space to properly do much of anything. The sight of a large group of flowers on your upper thigh distracts him- his kisses up your calf and along your thigh make you feel a little shy.

You’re on a cloud, you must be- a slow moving, cotton candy soft cloud where your head is empty and filled with thoughts only of Jungkook and his touch. His big hands gripping your thighs as if it’s nothing, cramped but close to you as much as he can be.

“Cute panties, baby,” Jungkook teases, snapping the waistband of your plain baby pink underwear.

“Shut up,” You grin, tugging at his hair playfully.

“You know,” Jungkook says throatily, “Wanna take my time with you. Make you cum with my fingers first, then on my tongue… but you’re so fuckin’ impatient, baby. What am I gonna do with you?”

What comes out of your mouth next isn’t your fault, it’s really not. It’s not your fault that his abs flex right in your face, that his arms flex and bulge in front of your very eyes. It’s not your fault your eyes instantly land on his big hands, specifically, the hand lined with tattoos on his knuckles spilling into his forearm and his bicep.

“Choke me,” You blurt out without thinking.

Your stupid, silly mind. Running faster than you can keep up with. And yet, embarrassment eludes you. You grin a little sheepishly when he looks at you with wide, surprised doe eyes.

“Too soon?” You shrug, your smile fading and feeling a little self conscious when he stays silent for longer than a moment, “I’m sorry, ‘m awful at reading the room-”

“No, no,” Jungkook murmurs, stopping your train of thought before it begins, “You just surprise me. That’s all.”

“I hope that’s a good type of surprise,” You laugh nervously, “And not like the type of surprise you get when you turn your work computer on and realized you missed a meeting that was put on the calendar after you logged off-”

“Definitely a good type of surprise,” Jungkook nearly purrs.

“Okay,” You say faintly.

Your mind is spinning, taking off in another direction with Jungkook right by your side. He parts your thighs easily, dotting your inner thighs with needy kisses. 

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Jungkook moans into your skin, “Smell so good. Bet you taste even better, pretty girl.

“But that’s for another day, when my legs aren’t about to give out from being cramped.”

You laugh, pulling a crinkly-eyed smile from him too. He shifts a little to kiss your hips, hands never leaving your heated skin. Vulnerability crawls up your arms uneasily when he pushes your panties to the side. He wants to pull them off of your bare legs but there’s not enough room in the car, so this will do. You don’t recall the last time anyone had seen you like this- you swallow in anticipation, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

But Jungkook only looks at you adoringly, as if he can’t believe you’re opening yourself up to him in this way. He hovers over you, slotting himself in between your legs and presses his lips to yours quickly. 

You gasp into his mouth, a soft cry of his name filling the comfortable quiet when his index finger slips into your pussy. It’s been so long- and you can’t recall a time when it felt like this. Pretty noises spill from your bitten lips as you try to wrap your legs around his narrow waist. His eyes are burning into yours, your cheeks heating up from the intensity of his gaze. 

You don’t know where to put your hands and your brief panic is evident in your face. You feel awkward around him a little- he’s clearly adept with his fingers, his hips rolling in a practiced symphony. And then there’s you.

You can’t even meet his eyes when the soft noises of your wetness fill the space between you both.

“Hey,” Jungkook says a little gruffly, his fingers still stuffed in your pussy, “It’s just me. You can touch me, baby.”

“O-okay.”

You tentatively press your fingers to his sides, trying not to feel so awkward. But the more he reassures you, the more he drops kisses to your neck and the more he rubs your clit, you relax. 

Jungkook is nothing if not a quick learner, and he’s on a mission to learn what you like. He watches your face carefully with each stroke of his fingers in you and quickly finds a steady rhythm that has you gripping his arms tightly. The slight bite of pain from your freshly done nails is nothing compared to the way his name sounds like flowers blooming on your lips.

He thinks he’s got a pretty good read on you.

“Good girl,” Jungkook tests and smirks when a gush of wetness coats his fingers. You squirm in his arms, from embarrassment and to get more friction, but he’s not having any of it.

“I told you,” Jungkook rasps, “It’s just me, princess. Just wanna take care of you. You gonna let me?”

Before you can reply, Jungkook draws lazy circles on your clit and your head jerks backwards as you squirm. The back of your head hits the door panel with a thunk and you wince with a laugh.

“Sorry, baby,” Jungkook murmurs with a soft grin and cradles the back of your head, “Next time, I’ll take you home like you deserve.”

“Next time? You still owe me an orgasm,” You tease.

Jungkook’s eyes shift as he strokes you again, your teasing words dying on your tongue. “I know you’re close, baby,” Jungkook groans, “Can feel it.”

He scissors his fingers inside you and speeds his circles on your clit. “O-oh-Jungkook,” You mumble, “Fuck, that feels good- Oh!”

Jungkook catches it before you do, the way your thighs begin to quiver, your grip on him tightening and your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Cum, baby, cum all over my fingers,” Jungkook murmurs, “Good girl, my pretty girl.”

You whine at his words, the sound ripping out of your mouth sounding foreign to you as the pressure building finally blossoms in your belly and snaps. Waves of pleasure push through you, haziness surrounding your eyes. But all you can really make out is Jungkook and his pretty, brown eyes.

He pulls his hands away from your pussy and you blink at him with wide eyes when he shows you his glistening fingers with a crooked grin. Your mouth falls open in surprise when he licks his fingers clean and grins at you salaciously. You swallow nervously.

“Knew it. Knew you’d taste good,” Jungkook says and kisses you harshly. You wish you weren’t in the confines of the car, so you could properly feel him.

You feel as if the air has been punched out of your lungs. The man slotted on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your hair and caressing your cheeks is somehow the same man with a filthy mouth on him.

Ah. The duality of man, you suppose.

“Holy shit,” You mutter.

“How was that?” Jungkook asks, sincerity in his voice, “Too much? Are you okay?”

“Holy shit,” You repeat, “That was...fun. I liked that. A lot. And…”

You look away from him, feeling a little shy but he has a hand on your chin and pulls your gaze back to him. “And?”

“And… I-uh,” You stammer, “I-I’m- it feels really good with you. With you specifically. And I hope… that I can make you feel as good as you make me-umph-”

He cuts you off with a bruising kiss, somehow holding your hips tight in his hands. You can feel the hardness and heaviness of his cock against your hip and it makes you swallow.

“W-what about you,” You mumble against his lips, “I wanna take care of that for you-”

“Next time, baby,” Jungkook promises you and you pout at him. He only laughs, eyes crinkled and he kisses your pout away. “I promised Grandma I’d have you home by midnight-”

“Glad to see you’re a man of your word,” You murmur and Jungkook pulls off of you, somehow ignoring how hard his cock is in the confines of his pants. He helps you button up your pants and cleans up your smudged lip gloss. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the tent in his pants and he clicks his tongue at you.

“My eyes are up here,” He teases, “Second date, baby. Just wanted to make you feel good.”

“There’s a lot riding on that second date, huh?” You muse, “Maybe I will, too. Ride you, I mean. On our second date.”

Grandma is asleep when you fumble with the keys and try to open the door as quietly as you can without disturbing her. Your face is incredibly heated and your lips are pulled apart in a permanent smile. As they usually seem to be around Jungkook.

He waits for you to go inside and waves at you as he takes off.

You’re giddy as you tiptoe to your bedroom to change, do your nighttime skincare routine and get into bed. You had told Jungkook to text you when he gets home, but really, you might just text him anyways. It should take him about twenty minutes to get home, considering the late hour.

Your phone lights up with his name and you can’t help but smile fondly. 

Jungkook: im home You: me too Jungkook: very funny You: :)  You: I had a great time tonight kook Jungkook: me too :)  You: goodnight  You: baby  You: 💗 Jungkook: goodnight princess 💖

Sleep comes easily to you that night.

You: i’m really sore You: also good morning

And somehow Jungkook is supposed to respond to your text as if that doesn’t send a pulse of desire down his spine. He knows you say it innocently, probably just to genuinely tell him. But he can’t help where his thoughts go.

Honestly, the minute he got home, he had to take a shower and jerk himself off with how uncomfortably hard he was. He flushes when he thinks about how pretty and pliant you looked in his arms the night before, how the blatant trust and adoration in your eyes was reserved only for him.

It sends another rush of heat to his cock. He can’t believe he fingered you in his car of all places- he genuinely hadn’t planned for it to happen. But it did, and he loves that you feel comfortable with him.

He wonders if it’s going too fast- too much, too soon. He had confessed to Taehyung later the following afternoon over ramen that he was scared of making you uncomfortable-

“She hasn’t been in a serious relationship before, I don’t want to push too hard,” Jungkook says after slurping his ramen.

“I think she would tell you if you’re pushing too hard,” Taehyung says bluntly, “She’s never held back before, has she?”

“No, but-”

“Have you ever known her to be anything other than honest with you? Besides, she’s the one who stopped you both from going further that one morning she came over for coffee before work right?”

“Yeah… said it was making her nervous how quickly we got to this level of closeness.”

“Exactly. Just ask her to be honest with you, ask her if she’s comfortable, and go from there.”

Taehyung punches his shoulder and Jungkook nearly chokes.

It feels so easy with you- easy to talk to you, easy to gauge your feelings, your wants and desires. He can’t recall it being this easy with anyone else. Jungkook chastises himself for comparing you to other women in his past.

He has to remind himself to not think of you with rose-tinted glasses. You’ve chastised him for it once or twice before-

“Jungkook,” You mumble softly, running a hand through his hair.

“Hmm?”

“You know I love when you call me your dream girl,” You admit, “But you have to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t… don’t put me on this pedestal. Don’t think of me a certain way where you excuse when I hurt your feelings or do something wrong.”

“O-okay.”

He thinks you’re perfect, imperfections and all.

The only instruction Jungkook gives you for your second date is to dress up a little, on the dressier side of casual. And he tells you that you’ll be outdoors and that he has a backup plan in case it rains. Though he’s hoping that it doesn’t.

A few weeks have gone by since Jungkook had taken you to dinner and made you cum twice in his car (a memory that you tuck away for when your fingers dip into your panties). You still see Jungkook pretty often- picking him up from his apartment a few times a week, seeing him at work, sneaking glances and kisses.

He asks you if you’d like to stay the weekend with him as part of your second date.. Your first instinct is to wholeheartedly say yes, but you hesitate. Is it too soon?

Does that even matter? You panic, telling Jungkook you would let him know. And immediately talk it out with Jin and Yuna, feeling much better after-

“Do you want to stay at his place?” Yuna asks bluntly.

“Yeah-”

“Then stay at his place,” Jin chimes in.

“But you don’t think it’s too soon? We’ve only been on one date, I mean what if it’s moving too fast and we just- we just get tired of each other-”

“I think you’re both two consenting adults who are super fuckin’ into each other. Just enjoy yourselves,” Jin shrugs, “We’re too old for games anyway.”

“I know that,” You sigh, “I just- isn’t there supposed to be more of a chase?”

“You can make him chase you while still sleeping with him before the second date,” Yuna says slyly.

“You speaking from experience?” You grin and Seokjin sputters, a dash of red tinting his cheeks.

And then Grandma had convinced you to spend the weekend at Jungkook’s apartment. She knows more than you let on, you think. She must know how you’re both itching to have each other and be in your own bubble for a bit. She manages to persuade you that final inch and give into what your heart wants. She tells you to be happy and embrace it for once.

She tells you she’ll call you everyday and you nod. So you text Jungkook, telling him that you’ll come by on Friday after work.

And Jungkook can’t help the rush of giddiness that follows. Friday can’t come soon enough- the rushes, stolen glances and kisses aren’t cutting it for him. Excitement courses through his veins at the thought of you spending the entire weekend with him. He makes sure the already clean apartment is spotless for when you arrive, groceries are stocked, and he makes sure that your favorite candle of his is stocked up.

You had gone to Jungkook’s apartment complex from home after work on Friday with your night bag and promises from Grandma. You had picked up a bottle of wine, a box of chocolate croissants for Jungkook and Taehyung and some flowers, as it was your first time spending the weekend at his place. 

Excited nerves bounce around in your head.

Jungkook had come down to greet you once you had street parked (an impressive parking job, if you do say so yourself), and he had planted a deep kiss on your lips. As if he hadn’t seen you only a few hours prior. But still, you laugh and it’s loud and giddy.

You’ve never stayed the night with any boyfriend (not that you have one to compare the experience to), but because it’s Jungkook… it makes you giddy.

Jungkook wordlessly takes your bag from you easily and slings an arm around your shoulders, his eyes crinkling with his smile. You staying the weekend makes his heart burst- he hopes you have as much fun with him as he has with you.

He kisses you hello in the elevator, arm still slung around your shoulders. “Hi,” Jungkook breathes.

“Hey,” You say just as softly, “I’m glad I’m here.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says into your hair and takes your hand once you arrive on his floor.

He smiles at you brightly, your favorite bunny smile sending butterflies through your belly. He tells you to get comfortable, so you say hello to Taehyung who pulls you into a hug and shoots Jungkook a sly look over his head.

Jungkook can’t even bring himself to roll his eyes at Taehyung, too caught up with the fact that you were in his apartment for the entire weekend. 

Friday night had been spent watching scary movies, eating soup and meat and drinking wine in the living room. You had fallen asleep cuddled close to Jungkook, tucked into his side in your night clothes.

He carries you to his bed, kissing your forehead and quickly falling asleep next to you. He dreams of you and wakes up with you, a rosy notion that he falls in love with more each time.

Jungkook feels you peppering him with barely there kisses, your arm lazily sliding around him to cup his cheek. He doesn’t open his eyes, only holding your wrist in place and leaning into your warm touch.

“I know you’re awake,” You murmur, a smile in your voice. He loves your morning voice, the rich honey of it that only he gets to hear.

Jungkook only hums. You huff, sidling up closer to him and throwing your leg over his waist. His grip on you drifts to your waist and a smile ghosts his face.

“Good morning, baby,” You try again, pressing a kiss to his lips. This seems to wake him up and he rolls you on your back, slotting himself between your thighs and murmuring his own ‘good morning’.

“Wanna tell you somethin’ Kook,” You murmur against his lips. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, lips pressed against the column of your throat. He pulls away when you whine at him for his attention on what you’re about to say and he blinks the still warm arms of sleep from his eyes.

You wonder if you should splay your heart out to him, or turn your back on your heart and allow your brain to speak for it. But he’s looking at you so endearingly that you embrace your tender heart this time.

“I really like you,” You say softly. It’s not new information for him, but you like repeating it to him whenever you can.

“You don’t like like me? I’ve missed a step somewhere,” Jungkook teases, laughing when you smack his shoulder. But you laugh with him, because that’s how it is between you both. Only smiles and laughter and almost love.

“I really, really like you, sweet girl,” Jungkook murmurs.

You look at him with hearts in your eyes, excitement in your smile and pull him in for another kiss. “I like you so much, Jungkook,” You mumble, determination in your eyes. Before he can reply and tell you the same, your nails scratch at his chest. 

It doesn’t take much for his cock to harden fully- he’d already been more than half hard when you had woken him up with kisses. It only takes a few whispered words, a few strokes of your hand on his bare chest, a few slips of your tongue in his mouth, a few glides of your hips.

Jungkook lazily lets you flip him on his back, his hands nestled over your hips from under your shirt. Your nails are gentle over his skin, eyes wide as if you’re trying to soak in every inch of him and commit him to memory. He pulls you down for a kiss, and then another, and palms your tits playfully. Pulling a soft groan out of you.

The gentle tug of fatigue still dots your limbs, your body moving just as slowly as your mind. All you know is that you want him to feel good, your pretty boy.

The way the dim sunlight filters onto your skin makes you glow golden. Jungkook is mesmerized when you pull your night shorts off, hovering over his hips. You look to him curiously, hands stalling over his boxers.

“Wanna ride you,” You say simply.

“Thought I told you that was for after our second date,” Jungkook teases, “Besides, you’re not wet enough-”

“I can ride you like this,” You mumble, brushing your clothed pussy over his clothed cock, “Wanna make you feel good, too.”

“Is this okay?” You whisper unsurely, eyes wide and searching for his approval.

“More than, baby,” Jungkook says hoarsely, “You’re so pretty. My pretty girl.”

You grind your hips into his, the warmth of his body lighting you up from within. Just being near him, being on top of him like this, makes your pussy clench around nothing. Jungkook can see a wet patch forming on your panties with each drag of your clit over his cock.

You groan softly, bursts of slow honey erupting from behind your eyelids. You reach for his hand on your hip and thread your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes begin to wander just as yours do- to your thighs and the swirls of ink curling along your skin, your wide, blown out eyes. 

Jungkook lets the pads of his fingers sink into your thighs and he groans with half-lidded eyes. A soft flush creeps up his chest and blooms on his cheeks at the noises coming out of your mouth and spilling into the quiet, morning air.

He doesn’t know where he wants to touch- he just knows he wants to touch you everywhere. He can’t get enough of the feel of you in his arms. You’re a vision above him, hips moving languidly, hands raking over his forearms. It’s quiet between you both, the stillness of the early morning still weighing on his shoulders. 

Jungkook feels it building in his belly, a coil almost ready to snap. It only takes a few more drags of your nails on his skin, a few more of your breathy sighs of his name, a few more lazy swivels of your hips on his aching cock for him to cum in his boxers. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, swirls and images of you at the back of his eyelids imploding as he groans your name. 

“Kook,” You mumble, “Wanna cum. Help me, make me cum.”

Jungkook focuses on you, eyes drawn to the intensity with which you grind on his softening cock. He presses his thumb to the wet spot on your panties that has dripped onto his boxers, mixing with his own cum.

“Oh, honey,” Jungkook sighs, “Look at you. Messy girl. My pretty baby can’t cum on her own, huh? Need me?”

“Yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Yeah, I need you, baby…”

It only takes the slip of his fingers into your panties, swiping over your glossy folds and a few lazy rubs of his thumb for you to come undone just by his touch. Your eyelids flutter, a quiet whisper of his name tucked into the planes of his chest.

“You’re messy,” You grin and eye his boxers. He gives you a sheepish grin.

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs. He rolls off of the bed, feeling quite gross with his sticky boxers sticking to him like a second skin. He takes a pair of clean underwear and washes himself down carefully.

“It’s still early,” You say once he returns to bed with you, pulling you into his side and rubbing your shoulder adoringly, “Sun’s barely up yet.”

“So let’s go back to sleep for a bit,” Jungkook murmurs, rolling onto his side and pressing his chest to your back. He’s already dozing off, your warmth filtering around him like a cloud.

You wake up with his soft lips on your neck, his hands loose around your waist, and his nose in your hair. “Lemme make you cum again,” Jungkook says groggily into your hair. 

So you do.

Jungkook hadn’t told you much about where your second date would be taking place. You had been suspicious when he had packed the trunk of his car in a rush, not really allowing you to poke around and ask questions.

It’s about a twenty minute ride to wherever he’s taking you to, and you spend most of it chit-chatting or staring out of the window, enjoying the cool springtime sunshine.

A beautiful park comes into view, lush trees and shades of orange, pink and purples. When he parks and pulls out a large picnic basket for you with a shy smile, you can hear your heart beating in your ears loudly. You can’t help the grin that threatens to take over your face. He has a hand at the small of your back loosely as he leads you further and further into the park. 

It’s a beautiful day, perfect for your blouse, light jacket and your jeans.  Kids are running around with their friends and parents, but really, it just feels like you and Jungkook are alone in a bubble. 

“What’s all this, Jungkook?” You murmur, sitting next to him once you lay out the dark green checkered picnic blanket on the grass.

“Well, we’re at a park. See the Han river is right there,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and you swat his shoulder, “I-uh… Open the basket.”

You gasp, pushing Jungkook’s shoulder in disbelief when you see the assortment of food containers and two bottles of wine in the basket.

“You made this?” You murmur, “You did this for us?”

Your throat begins to close up and tears prick the back of your eyes, despite your watery smile. He’s so incredibly thoughtful and kind- everything you never thought you could have.

“I like that one the best,” You muse, swirling your glass of red wine (you can’t remember which one it is) in your hand.

“I hope you know which one that is, because I sure don’t,” Jungkook says.

“It’s the red one.”

“You don’t say.”

You laugh and lean against his shoulder. The people around you have begun to thin out as the sun had begun to go down. It’s a nice view of the river, but your favorite view is the one right next to you.

“Thank you,” You murmur, “I...I’m really happy and flattered you did this for me.” You stamp a kiss to his cheek quickly and lean further onto his shoulder. The silver hoops decorating his ears nearly tickle your head. He only wraps an arm around you and squeezes your waist. Jungkook looks at you, only to find you already looking at him. Your gaze flickers to his slightly parted lips and back to his deep eyes. 

You close the gap and kiss him quickly. It’s chaste, only lasting a few seconds- you’re not used to kissing him like that out in public. Heat crawls up your cheeks, but you still grin at him.

“Want to go for a walk?” He murmurs into your hair. You nod and stand, feeling a little wobbly with all of the wine going straight to your head. Jungkook steadies you (because of course he does) with a hand on your back.

“Are you good to drive after?” You implore, folding up the picnic blanket, “Should I call Jin and Yuna to pick us up?”

“I’m good,” Jungkook says with a crooked smile, “I got us, baby. Let’s go put this in the car.”

You’ll always be safe with him, he wants to say. But he doesn’t, only opening the picnic basket for you to slip the boxes of food into. Jungkook gently nudges your shoulder and follows your lead to his car.

The sun is slowly dipping down, illuminating the sky in hues of pinks, purples, and oranges. You and Jungkook walk side by side along the river- you’re unable to keep your eyes off of the way the sky reflects in the water and Jungkook is unable to keep his eyes off of you.

Your hand brushes along his accidentally, the warmth of his fingers sending goosebumps up your arms. Giving yourself a pep talk, you slip your hand into his and he can’t keep the pleasant surprise off of his face. 

Jungkook squeezes your hand every so often as you both quietly talk and walk, enjoying the light spring breeze.

Jungkook wants to learn every curve and soft sinew of your body- he wants to learn what gets you to sigh his name in that way, that way that causes a seed of possessiveness to plant itself in his belly. He desperately wants to learn what makes you tick, what you like.

For now, he’ll keep it slow. The slow, hot glide of his cock in your wetness is enough for now. The tight grip you have on his forearms, the bounce of your tits brushing against his chest is enough. You beg him for a kiss as your legs lock around his waist, pulling a deeper brush of his cock inside of you, and he’s happy to indulge you. 

Jungkook swallows everything you give him. He had stilled inside you with the first push of his cock into your pussy-

He watches your face, looking for any signs of discomfort. You tell him to wait while your eyes are squeezed shut, holding onto his biceps tightly. 

You’re so wet and warm for him. He wants to stay like this for as long as he can- the feeling of your pussy clenching around him (inadvertently or not) is addicting. 

“Okay,” You mumble, “I’m okay. Be slow with me?”

“Yes,” Jungkook replies instantly, kissing your forehead, “Yes, baby.” He thinks you like slow, but he thinks you might like spicy, too.

You cum rather quickly on his cock with his voice low in your ear and his fingers tracing over your clit and your nipples. He holds back, biting his tongue and instead nips at your neck as your pussy pulses around him. You’re smiling at him, a little dazed and a little dopey, your fingers tugging his hair.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” You murmur sweetly, your cheeks heating up, “You’re so good, your cock feels so good…”

Jungkook groans into your neck, his grip on your thighs tight as he tries to stop himself from ramming his cock into your pussy.

That’s for another day. Jungkook lifts his head, nudging your cheek with his nose and peers down at you. A thin layer of sweat coats your skin and Jungkook cradles your cheek protectively.

“Kiss me,” You demand softly, needily. He drops his head once more, capturing your lips with his and moaning into your mouth when you slip your tongue into his. 

Jungkook loses himself in you, tracing your tattoos with his fingers as his rhythm sputters. Broken moans of your name spill into your lips as he cums into the condom when he stops his strokes. 

“Holy shit,” Jungkook murmurs into your neck and you hum in agreement. He drops his weight onto you and you smile lazily, enjoying the feel of him all around you. He thinks your pussy is made for him- the velvety grip of your walls around him is dreamy. He needs a minute to regain his bearings, but he can see your eyes starting to flutter.

He’s already made you cum four times- or was it five? You’re deliciously tired. You groan in protest when he pulls out and pushes himself off of you with shaky legs to get up to clean the both of you up. 

“Kook,” You complain softly, “Come back.”

You close your eyes for a minute and he’s in between your legs, cleaning you up and pulling a shirt over your head and sliding your arms through. “Figured you’d get cold,” Jungkook murmurs, his own bottom half covered with fresh boxers.

“Have some water,” He says, tipping the bottle of water towards your lips. 

“Thanks,” You mutter, “Let’s nap. And then eat after.”

You’re already rolling closer to him, face pressed to his chest and hands loose around his waist. 

Before he succumbs to sleep, Jungkook wonders if this is too much, too fast. But he doesn’t allow himself to go down that path- you both have spoken extensively about what you felt okay with and what you wanted from each other. Even if it might be early in this, it feels right and that’s something you both can agree on.

Sleep comes easily for both of you.

Diversity and inclusion in the workplace makes you scoff out loud and roll your eyes. You’ve only been here for five years, but you’ve seen how this plays out. While the concept itself might have western origins, the company is embracing the idea. But with workshops like this, people have their eyes open for the hour (or however long the workshop is) and don’t do the work outside of the workplace. It’s checking the box, in your opinion. Which is why you’re so reluctant to get involved with things like this.

Maybe you’re a cynic. Maybe it’s because you’ve been stonewalled at this company for so long. Maybe you should and could appreciate it more if the people around you would actually utilize the principles they preached about.

But the fact that your boss is leading today’s workshop makes you curious. What could your boss, the same boss who publicly ridicules you and blocks you from your own personal and professional development, have to say about a topic as pertinent as diversity and inclusion?

Your eyes are narrowed and sharp as you assess the conference room. Your boss is flipping through slides and speaking as if he knows anything and everything about the topic.

“...As a global company, we should be aware of the impact of our actions and words. And something for us to be proud of is the number of female executives at our company, we have some of the highest…”

You scoff out loud, drawing the surprised eyes of everyone in the room. You return their stares and ignore the way your heart speeds up at the unwarranted attention.

“Do you have something you want to say?” Your boss all but sneers at you and you double down on your icy gaze. You choose your next course of action a little recklessly, but you can’t bite your tongue. Not this time.

“You really wanna hear what I have to say?” You say, gripping your mug of coffee tightly, “We can’t talk about this without people acknowledging the way they continue to perpetuate toxic work environments- I mean, are you the best person to discuss this?”

A harsh, ruthless silence falls in the room and nearly chokes you. Anxiety crawls in your veins and suddenly you feel like throwing up. You leave quickly and quietly, but not before throwing another icy stare to everyone in the room.

Holy shit. You’ve definitely just lost your job, there’s no question about it. You can already hear the rumor mill. Your boss would be more than happy to let you go and cut his losses. What had you just done?

You make a beeline for Jin’s office. You don’t even know if he’s in a meeting or has something he’s working on but you don’t know where else to go. He tries to soothe you and calm you down, but you’re full on freaking out by this point-

“I’m gonna lose my job,” You say, your face in your hands, “What the fuck, I don’t know what came over me-”

He calls your name firmly, “Stop. I shouldn’t say this but… he deserved it. And you’re not the only person who has problems with him. You know that.”

“I’m the only one who embarrassed him like that! I’m gonna fucking lose this job, and then what? What am I going to do? I don’t want to go to HR-”

Jin stands in front of you and holds your upper arms steady, telling you to breathe with him. Your heart begins to slow and your vision clears a little. 

“You know if it comes down to that, you have people to vouch for you,” Jin murmurs.

“Okay,” You say, a little lightheaded, “Okay.”

Jin hugs you, but he can’t quite stop the trembling that follows. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” Jin promises, “In the meantime, you should leave early. Or go find Jungkook, and then leave early.”

You crack a small smile, “That’s hardly appropriate. Thanks, Seokjin.”

You leave the building after seeing Jungkook. He walks you to your car, holding your trembling hand discreetly and kisses your hair, telling you to be brave and that everything will be okay. And you want to believe him, you really do. But this pit in your stomach feels too familiar for you to ignore.

tags: @koo-zy​

[supraveng]

Marvelous friends - Part 4

Series Masterlist previous part

Summary: you and Chris stay in touch during your family vacation

(the gif doesn't relate to the chapter, but look at that face)

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your 5:30am wake up call came much earlier than you expected, you had barely fallen to sleep when the hotel phone started ringing. It was your own fault for staying up late and drinking more than you usually do on a work night, but it was totally worth it. Chris was so fun to hang out with you would have stayed up all night chatting if he hadn’t abruptly left after your idiot brothers spammed you last night.

Oh well, now all you could do was get ready and catch your 8am flight to Philly. Getting to the airport with almost an hour to spare, you grabbed a coffee and the most fattening pastry (or 2) you could find. Plopping yourself down at your gate with your treats you checked some emails, and sent an update to your brothers, hoping to interrupt any morning peace they may have had since payback was required.

Just before boarding the plane you checked your Instagram account, deciding to post a pic from the signing and your trip to Boston College. You almost choked when you saw that you were now being followed by Chris Evans.

The following week was a blur, every day was a new city, a new hotel, a new airport but it all felt the same, like you were trapped in your very own groundhogs day. Finally making your way through the Miami airport, you turned on your phone knowing the texts you would be receiving from your brothers since your flight had been delayed.

Standing in line for a rental car felt like you were being tested, as soon as it started to move slightly, one of the workers would disappear. What should have taken 20 minutes of waiting was pushing the 1 hour mark. You had already responded to your texts and decided to check your email to see if your pain in the ass manager had made a last minute change to just piss you off more than he already had.

To your surprise he had emailed you a change in schedule that gave you more time to spend with your family, that put an unexpected smile on your face and just in time for your turn at the car rental desk.

“Thank you for your patience, how can I help you?” the clerk told you. You provided your rental info and waited for him to give you the keys so you could start your 2 hour drive. Instead you were told they didn’t have any cars left in what you had reserved. With a sigh you mumbled “of course, why would I expect anything to go right today” “I am sorry ma’am” “It’s ok, I shouldn’t take it out on you, but do you have any cars left? I’m supposed to be on vacation with my family and I still have a long drive ahead of me”

“Well, maybe there is something I can do” he smiled and started typing like a mad man. After a few more minutes, he hands you a set of keys along with your paperwork and his business card. “Here you are, the car is in spot 27, out the double doors and to your left. If you need anything, here is my number, call anytime” he smiles and you thank him before heading out. You made your way to the car and a smile made its way on your face all on it’s own.

Hoping in the car, you put on your favorite playlist and made the drive down US 1 in record time. Once you made it to the resort, you were exhausted and ready to crash but knew that would be impossible. The rest of your family had arrived earlier in the day and you were the last to show just in time for dinner.

Your family dinners were always chaotic, especially when everyone was there. All of your nieces and nephews needing to fill you in on anything they wanted to catch you up on in their lives. Before you had made it back to your rooms, your phone was ringing, so you stepped away to answer it away from the circus that was your family.

By the time you made it in with the rest of the clan, your parents headed to bed, needing a reprieve from all the noise, while the kids were deciding on what movie they should watch for the night. You laughed to yourself when you heard they had decided that this entire week would be a Marvel movie marathon.

Greg, your closest brother, mainly because he married your high school best friend, pulled you aside to catch up on everything that had been going on since you last visited at Christmas. “Why are you interrogating me? We talk religiously, you know all”

He rolled his eyes at you “because, phone calls and text only provide highlights, and I missed my little sister. So, I’m going to grab drinks for us and then you are telling me everything”

“Hey, the rest of us want drinks too, you spoil her, you know that?” of course, your oldest brother, Henry, had to throw in his unwanted opinion. By round 3 of drinks, everyone was up to date with each other, mostly catching up with you since you lived the furthest away and the time difference made it hard to chat as much as you’d like.

For some reason, this was also the time when you began contemplating texting Chris, the problem being there was no reason to text him. The look on Meghan, your sister in law, face should have told you that she was the most sober of the bunch which also meant she would start pulling secrets from any of you without you even realizing it.

Unfortunately, you were not sober enough to detect it and fell right into her trap. “Y/N, what’s the plan after the book tour? Are you staying in California?” she asked a seemingly innocent question.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I need a new manager, Aaron isn’t a good fit and I’ve let too much slide up to this point. Once the tour is over, I’ll replace him and try to make out a plan. I don’t think I want to stay in California, everything is so expensive, but if I’m writing for a show in LA, it would make sense to stay there, so I have no idea” you shrugged as you finished your cocktail.

“Well, have you at least met any celebs while you were out there? Other than your asshole ex” Greg asked as he went to grab you a refill.

“Yea, actually, Sophie and Benedict had been in LA for that last month or so and I met Robert Downey Jr. I have to say, he is one of the nicest people I have ever met, even offered to walk me down the aisle when Sophie’s son was determined we were getting married” you giggled.

“Wow, one meeting and he’s offering to walk you down the aisle? That's rather generous” Greg eyes you and you respond before even thinking.

“Well, it was kind of a weekend of hanging out with him and his wife, they invited me to a party, really nice people” you shrug as if that explained everything.

Your sister in law, Jan, popped up at that and sat right next to you “you were at a party with Benedict at RDJ’s house? Who else was there?” she asked like she was getting top secret details.

“Oh, I ran into Sebastian Stan” you tell her, rather proud you remembered.

“Oh, I ran into Sebastian Stan'' she mimics you “like that’s a common occurrence? WTH Y/N?”

“Well, he and I worked together when I was living in NY, but I guess he’s more popular now?” you shrug, not sure why she seems so upset.

She rolls her eyes at you before storming off for a drink refill. Your brother, Garrison, took her spot “you know she’s living vicariously through you and all your star studded friends” he pulled you into a side hug right before his wife returned and took her seat in his lap.

Before the conversation could go any further, your phone chimed.

Chris: hope vaca is treating you well, looks like you are riding in style

He almost immediately regretted the text “good, now she knows I’m stalking her social media” Chris groaned to himself.

Everyone in the room noticed the big stupid grin you had on your face, but decided to observe rather than push, knowing you wouldn’t give away more info than you wanted to.

It’s been pretty good so far, playing catch up with my bros and their wives

Chris was relieved you responded so quickly, maybe he wasn’t so creepy after all

Chris: sounds fun, hope the dozen kids aren't driving you crazy

No, they are being entertained with a movie marathon at the moment, so it’s relatively calm

Chis: well have fun and enjoy your time off

Chris cringed, he was debating about reaching out to you so soon, but luckily you responded right away and didn’t seem annoyed that he was interrupting your family time

I am so far, even when I’m the 3rd wheel

Well, I guess right now I’m the 9th wheel

Yikes, that sounds even more pathetic

I’m sorry for rambling, I’ve had a few cocktails

Chris: no need to apologize, it’s vacation, I would worry if you weren’t throwing back a few

Chris: so what is the drink of choice for the evening?

I honestly don’t know what it is, Gar mixed a couple of pitchers and has been keeping my cup full for that last 2 hours

Chris: that’s good, I bet he’s the favorite brother…

Oh no, I don’t have favorites……..Gar is the nurturer in the group, he bartended for years, so he’s usually our go to for keeping us inebriated, and he’s a chef so he’s always feeding us

Chris: well, he would definitely be my favorite brother

In moments like this yes, when we need to be on our best behavior, he’s the worst

Chris: sounds like fun all around

Until we are all hungover tomorrow and our parents scold us for it

Chris: easy fix for that

Oh yea, and what’s that

Chris: keep drinking! You're on vacation, live it up!

You couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion

Easy for you to say, we’re spending the day on the water, not sure how boating and drinking will be, but only time will tell

Chris: that’s the spirit! Have fun and stay safe 😁

By the time you looked up, your siblings were talking about other stuff with work and kids. When Marie noticed you had put your phone down, she decided to have the ladies separate from their husbands so they could really catch up.

“So, I bought this amazing new mud mask, why don’t we head back to our villa, leave the guys here with the kids and we can have a mini spa treatment, just the five of us?” she asked as she surveyed the room. You all agreed instantly but first requesting another pitcher of cocktails before heading out

Once you made it out of earshot of the boys, you expected the interrogation to start but instead they waited until the next round of drinks were poured.

“Are you going to tell us who you were texting or do we have to steal your phone to find out?” Jan asked with the raise of her eyebrow.

“Wow…. it was my friend, just checking to see how my vacation was going” you shrugged, knowing you had to really try hard to keep quiet about what was going on.

“Does this friend have a name?”

“Of course, who do you know that doesn’t have a name?” you snarked back, beginning to giggle at how hilarious you are when you're tipsy.

Meghan rolled her eyes "what's the friend's name?"

"Chris" you responded immediately without thinking.

Marie was getting the mud mask for everyone when Jan's eyes widened "please tell me it's Chris Evans!"

"Um, why would you say that?" you knew you were caught but your drunk brain thought it could help you out by confusing everyone else first.

"Well, 1) we know you, you wouldn't give your number to someone you just met if you didn't trust them; 2) you would give your number to someone who you had mutual friends with this Chris; 3) you went to a party at ROBERT DOWNEY JR's house, with Benedict, so I'm going to assume there are other Marvel actors there; 4) Chris Hemsworth is married, Chris Pratt is married, Chris Evans is HOT and around your age"

She smirks at you, rather proud of herself and all you can do is stare at her "wow, for someone who sells insurance you are quite the detective" you nod and finish your drink.

"Come on Y/N, we are all a bunch of married ladies, and while we love your brothers, none of them look like this" Annette tells you as she hands you her phone. A bit confused you look at the picture on the screen and are completely shocked

"OMG! Where did you get this picture?" you shake your head and realize you are probably drooling but you have never seen anything so damn good in your life.

"That's not important right now, just tell us if that's who you were all giddy with" she practically whines.

You look up eying her "it's always the quiet ones" you shake your head again and hand her back her phone.

"Just tell us" they all practically scream in frustration. Looking around the room you decide it can't hurt to be honest, they are your family "well, I've never seen him in the tub before so I can't be sure" you start giggling again, that picture along with the 8 or 9 drinks you've had is causing you to get a bit hot and bothered.

Marie rolls her eyes at you "did you look at his face?"

"Did you!?" At this point you are all laughing and gawking at the picture.

Morning comes much earlier as your room is in the same villa as your parents (being single sucks sometimes) and they always wake up with the sun. By the time you make it out of your room for coffee, they have already had their morning stroll on the beach and ready to get the day started.

"So, I was verifying the day with the front desk and they don't have us down for a boat excursion today, I thought you said you were taking care of it Y/N?" your dad looking at you, trying to figure out what to do now.

"I did dad, but I booked a private boat for us outside of the resort" you grin as you finish your first cup and go for a refill.

Your mom immediately gasps, "sweetie, that's far too expensive, we can't do that."

"It's my treat, this is my only vacation this year and I don't plan on spending the day on a boat with a bunch of peasants" you smirk knowing how annoyed your mom probably was. "And we can't change it because I would lose all my money if we did that with such short notice, and that would be wasteful, wouldn't it?" Raising your eyebrow to your parents, you wave at them as you head to the shower to get ready for the day.

When you had all made it back to the resort after a long day on the water, everyone went in separate directions to get cleaned up for dinner. You emerge from your room ready to go to find your mom sitting in the living room waiting for you.

Plopping next to her she hands you a glass of water “you need to hydrate if y’all are planning on drinking all night again” she smirks at you.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” she questions. “And don’t tell me nothing, I know you, your brain has been running on high speed all day. And who knows, old mom might actually be able to help”

After a long chat with your mom, you weren’t sure what you needed to do, but you felt a bit better.

You were giving her a hug of thanks when your dad walked in “come on ladies, dinner awaits. You look beautiful, my bride” he tells your mom as he grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles.

Gosh they were so cute, but true to yourself you made gagging sounds as you headed out the door. Dinner was of course chaotic, but the restaurant was well prepared for your clan and you all had a blast

Hey, can I ask you something?

Chris: sure, I'm just hanging out with my dog and looking over a script, not very exciting, what’s up?

Chris was surprised but excited that you had texted him out of the blue tonight. He grabbed a beer while waiting for your response and decided he could use a break from working and chat with her tonight instead.

Ok, I’m making a pro/con list and hoping you could give me some input

Chris: I’ll do my best, what’s the topic?

Moving to Boston

Chris: well, that’s the pro column, what could possibly be in the con column?

Funny…..I haven’t lived there in ages and I might be taking a job there for the summer

Chris: that’s awesome

Chris: ok, pro, it’s just the summer so you won’t freeze through the winter

You remember that?

Chris: uh yea, it was pretty funny

Ok…..weather is a good pro, what else you got?

Chris: well there is a music festival in May, and I’m sure a seafood fest or 2 during the summer

Chris: so why the pro/con list, you lived here, you know it's the best city ever

You couldn’t help but laugh. Not sure how to respond, you didn’t need a pro/con list about Boston but really about the job you would be doing.

You are right, the city isn’t the issue. I got a call yesterday, offering me an adjunct professor position. I’m more worried about the job….

Chris: well, I think you would be an awesome teacher

Really? Why?

Chris: you are a talented writer, you could teach those kids a lot

You’ve read my work?

Chris: yea, I stole the book you signed for my mom, it’s incredible, I can see it being a play or film, you are very talented

Wow, thank you, that’s so kind of you

I was planning on leaving California anyway, and this kind of fell into my lap, so it almost feels like I should jump right in, even if I’m scared shitless

Chris: awesome! I can be your personal welcome wagon

You smiled to yourself, maybe you could have a little fun this summer

PART 5

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker

Author’s Note: Okay weeee I’m super excited about this. I’m really happy with how this first chapter turned out and I already have plans for future chapters. I am such a sucker for Whiskey and I can’t wait to write more.

Warnings: some slight cursing

Length: 1,934 words

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For as much as you loved New York City, you absolutely hated its winters. Snow in the countryside was beautiful; white and fluffy, it stayed perfect for days on end. Snow in the concrete jungle however; wet, slushy, and turned disgusting in a matter of hours. Trudging your way through Central Park, the snow and salt crunching beneath your feet, you mind drifted. You had just been let go from you recent job, a personal assistant at a high end marketing office. Sighing to yourself and thinking about the possibility of moving back home your foot slipped. Before you could catch yourself you shut your eyes tight, preparing to land hard on your ass. But that smack never came. Opening one eye you were standing face to face with…

“A cowboy?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at the man in front of you.

“In the flesh.” came the sweetest accent.

Opening your other eye you realized that the cowboy in front of you had snaked a hand around your waist. No wonder you hadn’t fallen. A beat passed and you realized the cowboy still had his arm around you. You stepped away and out of his hold.

“Thank you.” you said, giving an awkward cough and taking a closer look at you savior.

Not to be a cliché, but he was tall, dark, and handsome. Atop his head was a black Stetson, an odd sight in the middle of New York City. He had a perfectly trimmed mustache, and a small smirk underneath it. You silently thanked the cold for hiding the blush that crept up your face. The redness could easily be passed off as a flush from the biting wind.

“Anytime darlin’.” he said, shooting you a wink with eyes that you felt could swallow you whole. “Anyways, I best be on my way.”

Giving you a dazzling smile, he tipped the end of his hat with a gloved hand and brushed past you. You could’ve sworn that his hand grazed yours, but because of your thick mittens it was hard to tell.

Shivering slightly to yourself, you pulled your coat tighter around you and continued your walk to your apartment.

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

Unlocking your door and sighing to yourself you looked around your small studio apartment. It wasn’t much, but over the past year it had become your home. Shucking your jacket off you headed to the couch and sat down to pull off your shoes.

‘Guess I won’t be here much longer’ you thought to yourself.

After making yourself a steaming cup of tea you decided you may as well look at your email. Two days ago when you were told of your “dismissal” you had signed up for a couple different job search sites. If you were lucky enough maybe someone would offer you an interview, but your hopes were low.

You crossed your legs underneath you trying to generate as much heat as possible. As much as you loved your tiny apartment, it was an older building so the heating was shit to say the least. You clicked on the mail icon on your desktop and silently prayed to yourself. 10 new emails. Maybe there was hope.

10 Kale Dishes That’ll Be Sure To WOW Your Houseguests!

WARNING — WE HAVE DETECTED MALWARE

Most of the emails were similar to those: junk and spam, until your eyes landed on the last email.

RE: Y/N Y/L/N Job Opportunity FOUND!

Your eyes widened at the subject. Clicking on the email you realized that it wasn’t a scam, it had really come from one of the job search sites. Swallowing hard you hoped that it wasn’t just an offer from one of those salad making chain restaurants. You had your fair share of beginner jobs; barista, Subway, etc. After getting a taste of something more professional, you knew that that’s where you were meant to be. Besides, the pay that Starbucks gave was certainly not enough to live in New York City on your own.

Dear Ms. Y/L/N,

My name is Mr. Daniels and I am writing to inform you of opening at Statesmen Brewery, the New York City branch. I have been in search for a PA since my previous one left. After reading your resume I have become very interested in your skills and talents. Please let me know what days you are free in the coming week.

Jack Daniels

Head of Statesmen NYC Branch

You snorted at the sign off. There was no way someone’s real name was Jack Daniels and worked for a brewery. It was comedic to say the least, but there was no harm in responding to his email and getting an interview. Maybe this was your chance to stay in the city you loved, even if its winter was disgusting. Taking a sip of your tea you started to write out your response.

Mr. Daniels,

Thank you so much for your offer. I am very interested in an interview and am free Monday all day. Please let me know what time is best for you. Is there anything specific I should bring besides a printout of my resume and documents?

Thank you for your consideration,

Y/N Y/L/N

It was currently Friday so you had the whole weekend to prep yourself for the interview. If you were honest, the idea of an interview created a small pit in your stomach. It had been over a year since you’d been interviewed for a job.

May as well do some research on Statesmen.

Pulling open a new browser you typed in ‘Statesmen Brewery’ and clicked on their website. Clearly the company had some tech savvy people working for them as their website was modern and easy to navigate.

Statesmen Brewery has been brewing fine whiskey since 1885 and serving people all across the country and world.

No wonder you never heard of the company, you had never been big on whiskey.

The brewery had its start in a small barn in Kentucky and has since expanded to include two offices in New York, New York and Los Angeles, California. While our reach is wide, we consider every employee and consumer of our alcohol a close family member.

The rest of the front page went on to describe their whiskey and how smooth it was, as well as some fun facts about the company. You closed your laptop and picked up your tea, holding it close to your face and letting go of the tension in your shoulders that you didn’t realize was there. Before you could fully relax you heard your phone buzz on the couch cushion next to you.

It was your best friend Parker. When you first moved to NYC you decided to visit a small bookstore/coffee shop and accidentally grabbed the wrong drink. Turns out that drink belonged to Parker. She had come to the coffee shop to work on a script for an up and coming TV show that was set to be filmed in the city. The two of you became fast friends. You were slightly jealous of the girl as she really had landed her dream job.

Opening the text she had sent it was a photo of her holding a script she had written. Her round face was pulled up into a smile, her auburn hair slightly frizzed from what seemed to be an all nighter. You smiled at the photo and read the text that followed.

Guess who just finished her first script for SVU!

Quickly you typed out a response:

Congrats! Proud of you P. I have some good news too. Landed an interview with a fancy brewery.

Suddenly your phone buzzed nonstop, Parker was calling you.

You pressed the button to answer the phone and before you could say anything a scream hit your ears.

“AHHHHHH I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!!!!”

“Haha, thanks Parker. Honestly I’m a bit nervous. I did some research and the company seems to be a pretty big deal.”

“What’s the company?”

“Statesmen Brewery.”

“Oh shit my parents love their stuff.”

“I literally know nothing about whiskey other than the fact that I don’t like it. I feel stressed. The interview is on Monday.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and help you with prep. Also you know I gotta help pick out the perfect interview outfit.”

“Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

“I know.”

You snorted at her response. Parker was confident, and more importantly confident in you. The thought of having her help you prep eased the knot in your stomach.

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The rest of the afternoon was spent talking to Parker over the phone. Eventually the two of you ended your call and you were left to do some random chores around your place. As you mopped the floor you slipped a bit but caught yourself before you fell over. Your mind flashed back to earlier in the day.

At the time you didn’t realize how strong the cowboy’s grip was, but it was not overpowering. You remembered how gentlemanly he was. Looking back on it you tried to remember his face. While it was a short interaction, you couldn’t deny that he was easy on the eyes. Sighing softly you tried to remember the last time you went on a date. It had been several months ago. Your busy PA job never really allowed for romantic relationships. Shaking your head you got on with your day, finishing your chores, eating some leftover Chinese food for dinner, and sinking deep into your bed.

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

You were awoken by a knock on your door. Grunting as you got out of bed you swung open the door. The only person who would bother to come over without letting you know was Parker. Your suspicions were correct as she walked through the threshold and made herself at home, talking a mile a minute the entire time.

“Okay so first we need to talk about clothing options.” she said dumping her bag on your couch.

“Not prepping for the interview?” you said giving her a confused look.

Parker sighed.

“Look, I already know you have this interview in the bag. Sure, you may not like whiskey, but you are a wonderful person. While you may be stubborn” you frowned at her comment, “that can be super helpful in interviews. You are a go getting Y/N. I have no doubts about that.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Fashion show time!” she said, opening the small closet and rummaging around to find something suitable.

After an hour had passed the two of you finally settled on a suitable outfit. It was professional but still had a touch of you in it. A simple black skirt with a fun silky button down shirt that had a cool pattern on it. As you looked at yourself in the mirror you couldn’t deny that Parker knew what she was doing when it came to fashion.

“Okay finishing touch time.” she said as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt.

“Parker! This is a job interview, not a date.”

“Ugh. It’s a brewery, they’re gonna be more relaxed about these things. Plus you never know, this Jack Daniels could be a cutie.” she said, giving you a wink.

You chuckled and shook your head. Parker was eccentric but you really did love her. You still had a small bit of anxiety running through your body, but the help of your best friend made you feel more positive about Monday. Maybe you’d be able to stay in New York. Maybe this job might be better than the previous.