#lets not do that again i hate reading my own fics it's always a bad idea why am i like this

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from August :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June July

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Teach Me a Lesson (Already Learned) by whenitstarted

Word Count: 3142 Summary: Will being married to Molly and cheating on her with Hannibal.

Literally just PWP because I wanted to scratch the cheating itch.

Just Thought You Should Know by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 22370 Summary: Two years after marrying Molly, Will is restless and unhappy, unable to stop thinking about Hannibal and missing his incarcerated cannibal despite all the reasons why he knows it's wrong. One night, things come to a head when Hannibal finds a way to call him. A series of sensual phone encounters begs the question of how long Will can possibly resist the desire which Hannibal so expertly cultivates.

Oh this one was GOOD. I love anything that happens in the three years Will is with Molly. The angst, the porn, chefs kiss.

More Myself Than I Am by StratsWrote

Word Count: 9176 Summary: Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to.It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

Soulmate AU! Hannibal absolutely hating the bond at first felt very on brand and this was just very good.

coyote chewing on a cigarette by antiheroblake

Word Count: 5145 Summary: hannibal wants someone to care for him until he’s bequeathed his family fortune, but he doesn’t want to deal with the near-elderly perverts his friend calls their “sugar daddy”. that’s when he sets his sites on the sullen and newly rich will graham

okay if you aren't reading this series, what are you doing?? every. single. installment. is a five star!!!

No It Don't Come Easy by nobetterlove

Word Count: 10759 Summary: Will had the good sense to blush then, both Hannibal’s words and his previous actions making his heart pound hard in his chest. “Actually, uh – “ Will started, his hand reaching back to rub along his suddenly stiff neck. “I told him I was seeing someone.” Blue eyes looked up slowly, Will more than curious as to what Hannibal’s reaction would be. “Well, that’s – “ Hannibal tried to say but was cut off by Will speaking again. “I said it was you. Or implied it, at least.” There was a moment of silence where Hannibal didn’t blink or look away or even breath. Maroon eyes took Will in with shocking efficiency – he felt like Hannibal was everywhere in that moment, surrounding him in all ways possible. “You told Jack Crawford that you were seeing me.” Or: a Hannigram fake dating AU

i'm a whore for a fake dating fic, y'all know who i am.

Oddbodies by toffeecape

Word Count: 72714 Summary: Will is an off-brand sentinel. Hannibal is a reputable guide. What could go wrong?

i knew nothing about Sentinel AUs before reading this one, but i found it was perfectly well explained within the fic! and wow this was SO well done! it fits so well into canon and was just a treat to read.

This Isn't Rapture by moistdrippings

Word Count: 7467 Summary: Will wakes with a fever, and Hannibal prescribes some unconventional treatments.

yeah, just gonna drop this one here.

stink in the nostrils by murdertrout

Word Count: 49137 Summary: Secret Omega Hannibal is not pleased that he has imprinted on Will Graham. He avenges himself on his biology by getting Will Graham put behind bars. But when Will figures out what he’s been hiding and tampers with his suppressants, triggering his first heat, they both get more than they bargained for. Alternate S2b if it were entirely A/B/O porn.

LOVED THIS.

A Most Gentle Death by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 8956 Summary: “What is that?” Will asks tightly.“A blend of benzodiazepines and barbiturates,” Hannibal says. “It will render one unconscious, immobile, and largely insensate.”Will stares at the syringe in shocked disbelief. The shame and embarrassment are still present, but have taken a backseat to dry-mouthed, hopeless longing. Hannibal turns the syringe end on end between his fingers. “Would you like me to administer it to myself?” he asks.

there is something so satisfying about Hannibal not being phased by pretty much anything that Will wants.

A Wolf in the Night by itsbeautiful

Word Count: 3857 Summary: “Leave them on…” Will rumbled, grabbing hair and pushed a head down his stomach. “…and suck my cock.”Hannibal looked up with a dark stare and a head tilt, struggling to catch his breath. “No ‘please?’”“I know…I don’t need to ask, politely or otherwise, to get what I want from you now.”Red eyes glittered with hunger, tongue flicking out to taste the power left on lips.“Isn’t that what you wanted, Doctor Lecter? For me to take what I want from you.”

i'm pretty sure i just love anything this author writes, wow. you don't technically need to have read Transcendent Suffering, but it'll make more sense if you have.

When It Clicks by summerisblue

Word Count: 29838 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been spending a lot of time together lately.Because they’re friends, Will likes to reason. Will likes to tell Hannibal that too, just to clarify. Hannibal might be more than a little frustrated.

this one really hit my "oblivious sugar baby Will Graham" button. i love him so much.

Your Ex by murdertrout

Word Count: 3810 Summary: “What was your last relationship like?”“Uh,” Will says. “Intense.”“Good intense or bad intense?”“Yes,” Will says.“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Molly says, “but I just want you to know you can.”In retrospect, this is a mistake.--We usually assume that Will clammed up about his past when he was with Molly. But what if actually Will tells Molly way, way, way too much about his relationship with Hannibal?Or, the one where Will starts talking about his “ex" and doesn't stop.

i love when Will is an idiot. this fic was just silly and perfect.

Ball Toss by raiast

Word Count: 22307 Summary: The carnival AU no one asked for. Hannibal accompanies Alana to a carnival and meets one Will Graham, whose game booth is less than above board. Hannibal does not approve.

YES YES YES. i really loved this dark Will!!

Pushing Comfort by lurid_erotic_intimacy (virtuous_contract)

Word Count: 14559 Summary: Habitually, Hannibal keeps his steps quiet as he makes his way to Will’s upper floor. It’s probably nothing out of the ordinary that has kept Will from making their morning session (not a session, a conversation). Still, it’s best to know for certain.Or: Will starts missing his appointments. Hannibal is happy to investigate why. Can be read as a canon-insert. A quite sweet and kink-flavoured getting together story.

this was sweeter than i would have expected it to be based on the tags, but mmmm this hit the right buttons for me!

a world of hurt by divinetheatre

Word Count: 7213 Summary: Will takes it slow, pausing between the strikes to let Hannibal work through the sensations, patient — for now. In time, when Hannibal’s self control wavers, and his knees start to kiss one another after every spanking, Will will pin him open and punish him for that too. Relentlessly.

well, we learn new things about ourselves every single day, right?

i know who you are by divinetheatre

Word Count: 14125 Summary: Will turned again as though the turmoil in Hannibal’s heart had clamored loud enough for him to hear. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. What Hannibal might’ve said, the last thing he could’ve admitted to Will, did not pass his lips. Will strode to him and grasping Hannibal’s face in both hands, kissed him. Deep and hot with passion that did not surprise Hannibal but overwhelmed him. He’d known it would be this way, but he had never been prepared. Not entirely.

Vulnerable Hannibal and Will being the most tender understanding human? Give me moreeeeeeeee.

a sort of madness by divinetheatre

Word Count: 5239 Summary: He chose me.The euphoric mantra echoes through his mind as he drags the panties down Hannibal’s long, slim legs. They open for him. The slick heat betwixt dampens the coverlet for him. What happens to Hannibal’s body after this is because of him.

i had to stop and remember to breathe multiple times during this fic so. do what you will with that information.

Secretary by FragileTeacup

Word Count: 77469 Summary: Will Graham needs a job. Since quitting the FBI, he’s been adrift for months, broken and lost; chasing a desire he doesn’t understand in increasingly destructive ways. What he needs is stability, direction, something to help put his life back in order and quiet the buzzing in his head. A chance encounter with the classifieds might just give him exactly what he needs. Secretary Wanted.Dr. H. Lecter. Psychiatric private practice.Typing and good manners essential.Must follow direction.

THE secretary AU. need i say more??

Layover by raiast

Word Count: 16978 Summary: When Hannibal misses his connecting flight to DC he is forced to obtain a hotel room for the evening. When the last remaining room is seemingly double-booked he realizes that the adult thing to do is generously offer to share the space. And if the other man in need of lodging happens to be a seemingly disheveled, ill-mannered and altogether beautiful stranger, well, that's just fine.

ONLY ONE BED ONLY ONE BED. alternate first meeting AU that i adored.

Scent of a Woman by Devereauxs_Disease

Word Count: 4860 Summary: After the fall, Will assumed he and Hannibal would progress to a romantic relationship. So when Hannibal comes home smelling of fancy perfume, Will is...distressed. How do serial killers handle jealousy and romantic confessions? Not well, y'all...NOT WELL.

they're both so stupid and i love them. Hannibal's behavior had me cracking up because of course he would behave this way.

Will Graham Had a Secret by hannigramsarah (WrightworthSarah)

Word Count: 4442 Summary: Will Graham has a somewhat slutty past. What happens when he meets Hannibal Lecter and discovers his proclivities may not be as secret as he might have hoped?

this was lovely.

Something Borrowed by BelladonnaWyck

Word Count: 11206 Summary: “What’s wrong with your green card?” Will can’t hope to stop the words from tumbling forth - didn’t even know they were about to spill from his mouth when he opened it - and his cheeks flush when he realizes how intrusive and presumptuous that question is.

Hannibal is Hannibal and they are perfet. i need more green card proposals STAT.

Touch by raiast

Word Count: 10902 Summary: From the kinkmeme prompt:"Going into an intense heat, Will volunteers to be shared and passed around by a group of Alphas. Hannibal finds out. Does he stop it from even happening? Sneak in and sign in to join the group?"What happens when an Omega with a voyeurism kink signs up for a Public Heat and his possessive Alpha psychiatrist applies for a volunteer position? Hint: lots of knotting, lots of come, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of bloodshed.

FERAL WILL GRAHAM. i really don't think i need to say more.

put your aching teeth to good use, my dear by wormsin

Word Count: 10516 Summary: alternate a/b/o ending to Fromage. when Will sees Hannibal in his office, bloody but alive, he goes into a feral rut. Hannibal tries to pacify him.

again, feral Will Graham just hits all the right buttons.

Tender by McRibFarewellTour

Word Count: 5117 Summary: "Will loved the violence, of course he did, but he loved Hannibal more, and he wanted there to be a clear distinction between the two. He wanted proof that Hannibal loved him, Will Graham, not anyone else who could be convinced to empathize with a serial killer. He didn’t want to push Hannibal against a wall, he wanted to hold and be held by him."A defense of seeking gentleness in a world of violence.

OUCH. in the best way possible, big ouch.

Husband Under Contract by house_of_lantis

Word Count: 49685 Summary: Count Hannibal Lecter has always enjoyed his bachelorhood and freedom, preferring to live a life as an established gentleman and lord of his estate. But Hannibal finds himself married and the last thing he wants is a clingy, tedious spouse who expects romance and to take advantage of Hannibal’s wealth and social status. Will Graham couldn’t care less about the arranged marriage as long as he can keep his job and keep his dogs. He’s amused by Hannibal’s attempts to manipulate him; and when he finally gets Hannibal in bed, he thanks him for a good time and returns to his own suite. What will Hannibal do when he realizes that he’s completely in love with his husband? And can Will ever see past their marriage contract to sharing a real life of love and passion?

An incredible royalty (kind of?) AU. i love how Will just does not give a fuck about upsetting Hannibal, much to the horror of the house staff.

pretty words from a silver tongue by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 3595 Summary: Will’s hookups (as few and far in between as they are) always end the same; deliberate distance between bodies and a cold, empty bed come morning. No one ever stays the night.

touch starved and vulnerable Will??? sign me UP.

i could love you with my eyes closed by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 2276 Summary: In Will Graham's three and a half decades on this planet, no one has ever made him feel like this.or, Hannibal is a little TOO good in bed, leaving his boy a little... emotional.

relatable content.

Night Calls and Liquid Courage by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 4249 Summary: "How much did you drink, Will?”“All of it.”“All of it, hm? That certainly is a lot.” _________________ Beverly Katz hand-delivers a very flirty, very drunk Will Graham to Hannibal's doorstep in the middle of the night. Drunken confessions and lots of cuddling ensue.

fluffy goodness, what more could ya want?

your touch is my safety by feralwillgrhm

Word Count: 4183 Summary: Will had been touch-starved for a while, but he didn't realise how much he craved it until Hannibal came into his life and initiated touch between them repeatedly. It left him wanting more and trembling at night in bed, but he never knew how to tell Hannibal. That was until he finally cracked. Or: 5 times Hannibal touched Will and he barely kept things together, and 1 time he gave in.

this was so sweet and tender!!

I called your name ‘til the fever broke by omnilegent

Word Count: 4363 Summary: Hannibal tilted his head in that cat-like way of his and said, apropos of nothing, ‘I believe you are experiencing touch deprivation, Will.’Will was not in the fucking mood.‘I touch myself plenty, doctor.’ He snapped, realising what that sounded like after he was already committed to saying it and ultimately not really caring. He couldn’t be bothered for all this dancing around half truths via metaphors today.———Hannibal offers Will a helping hand in relieving his touch deprivation…

can y'all tell i was on a "touch starved Will Graham" kick? that's all this is.

the fire went wild (the flames went higher) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 15359 Summary: will takes hannibal out to make up for the shoes he didn’t get, but when hannibal tries to show his appreciation (and how poorly he can behave), will decides to show him something new

show me the places where the others gave you scars by madeofbees

Word Count: 4957 Summary: Will has a bad time at a bad scene; Hannibal helps.Or: if Will has such a strong empathy response to horror and violence, what would happen if Hannibal immersed him in pleasure?

can y'all imagine if this is what Hannibal had done from the start? jesus christ.

Heal Your Wolf(hound) Well by devotional_doldrums

Word Count: 53396 Summary: From a distance, Hannibal enjoys heightening Will’s sickness. But confronted with the injured man lying in his hospital bed… Hannibal’s not so sure he enjoys it, anymore. Chicken soup (for the serial killer’s soul).

i love getting to see Hannibal actively regret his choices. 10/10.

Crystalline by DruidGurl (DaoistDruid)

Word Count: 59216 Summary: Stripper!Hannibal AU (sort of) The proprietor of a successful restaurant, Hannibal (who may or may not be a serial killer and definitely WAS an exotic dancer in his youth) is coerced by an old acquaintance to take a job dancing at a bachelor party. When he shows up, he realizes a mistake has been made, but he also realizes something far more interesting: the groom to be is hotter than Mt. Vesuvius. Circumstance and intent lead the boys where it always should: into bed. A lot.

GIVE ME ALL OF THE CHEATING FICS PLEASE. Everything in this fic was top tier. Hannibal as a dancer? Hell yes. The dirty talk? Yes. The fucking all night long marathon sex sessions? YES. Will being an absolute SLUT for Hannibal??? YES PLEASE GOD.

all i want is you by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8892 Summary: We should do something tomorrow."Did you have anything in mind?“It’s your birthday.”Ah, he wishes it were so simple. If Hannibal were to wish for anything, it would be Will Graham underneath him, gasping, moaning, whispering his name while he placed claiming bites on his beautiful, porcelain throat. Such an image is so lovely… and so achingly far away. There is nothing wrong with wishing for it, but if it is a boundary that is never crossed, Hannibal can live with it. He can live this quiet, friendly, occasionally bloody life they live simply as friends if it means he continues to have it.That does not mean Hannibal won’t settle for his second favorite. (It isn’t really settling though; their shared hunts are the greatest adventures he’s ever had.)“Well, there is that dreadful Senor Pérez down at the docks…” _________________ A year after the fall. Hannibal and Will are friends and partners in crime, but nothing more. Hannibal is... fine with that. He is content having Will in any way that he is allowed if it means Will stays.Today is Hannibal's birthday. Will surprised him with a kiss.

This made me want to tear up in a good way. It is so TENDER. God, they are so soft and I love them.

le bel homme sans merci by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 7481 Summary: “La Belle Dame Sans Merci.” Will recites breathlessly.Hannibal lets out a pleased hum. “The painting is a rather whimsical rendition of the muse. Keats’ poem depicts a wretched end for the knight where he awakens alone in the field, abandoned by the love of his life, whereas Dicksee’s work focuses on the maiden’s affection and the knight’s surrender to his own heart. Everything he knows and feels, it all changes when he sees her for the first time." _________________ Hannibal leaves his sketchbook in Will's car. He can't stop himself from looking inside, from wanting to know, but he never expected every drawing to be of him.

Hannibal "accidentally" leaving his sketchbook in the car where Will will absolutely find it? Chefs kiss. THEY'RE IN LOVE.

Whiskey Lullaby by thisisthefamilybusiness

Word Count: 1943 Summary: Hannibal Lecter only gives one apology in his entire life, and it is to the man he never meant to kill, the one he murdered not with violence, not with a knife, not as the Chesapeake Ripper, but with assumptions and carelessness and arrogance, to Will Graham. (Fill for the following prompt on HannibalKink: "Alone on the Water-esque fic? "Will you miss me, Hannibal?" "Until the end of my days, William." For those not in the Sherlock fandom, it's basically a deathfic. You can do it with cancer, like AotW, or AIDS, Will's encephalitis....anything you want. Even maybe Hannibal killing Will and these are their last words? Just. Please. Hurt me.")

OUUUGGGHHHH. Thank you, Serri. Will dies because he's HIV+ and Hannibal didn't know and let the encephalitis get so bad that Will got full blown AIDS. Ouch.

Guidance by jonnimir

Word Count: 3511 Summary: Kinktober Day 30: Gagging + Swallowing.Will acts out at a party, and Hannibal helps him calm down by keeping his mouth otherwise occupied.

Will going into subspace!!! I do love a good cockwarming fic. (also this might be what i need when i'm throwing up an attitude shhhh...)

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!" 

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that! 

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away. 

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him. 

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com. 

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless. 

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.   

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk. 

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes. 

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you. 

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either. 

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you. 

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost. 

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. 

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck!  Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO  for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it  cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[bookshelf-dust]

soul made of honeybees

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @biillys

word count: 6,418

warnings: brief swearing, mentions of smoking, reader deals with body insecurities/dysmorphia, uses exercise as a punishment, all of the struggles that come with trying to accept oneself

synopsis: on a journey of becoming more active and trying to be happier in yourself, you find billy, who helps you develop a healthier relationship with exercising and shows you that your body should be celebrated for all it does for you.

a/n: well, what do we have here? my creative juices have begun to flow again, and this is the first fic to be born of that particular affair. in my head i’ve set this in the late 80s, maybe early 90s, where i imagine billy still works at the pool during the summers when he’s home from college. this is a situation i’ve found myself in over the past year, and i wanted a chance to explore it in this way and sort through some of my own experiences. i hope you will enjoy it. as always, happy reading! <3

————

Jane Fonda is a fucking fantastic woman. But right now, you hate her. 

She manages to look stunning and effortless with each kick of her legs; while you are sweating profusely, your shorts are up your ass, and your fingers are swollen from overheating. 

You hate exercising in the moment, but once her thirty minute video is over and her group of people in tights and tiny shorts are gone, admittedly you do feel better. Rinsing the sweat from your face, feeling your muscles ache the next day—it brings you some sort of satisfaction. 

Your body likes that you’ve gotten more active. 

But your own hatred for your body was the reason you allowed Jane Fonda into your home to begin with. Sick, right? You know it’s bad, and yet each time you squat, crunch, and press, you can’t stop yourself from wishing you were shaped differently. From looking at the toned and athletic bodies in Miss Fonda’s videos and imagining what it would be like to feel that comfortable in your own skin, to be so graceful and…perfect.

So, you continue to push yourself, in hopes that you’ll become more appealing, that if you keep doing this, there will come a point where you aren’t totally and completely disgusted with the body you’ve been given. 

Because at this point, you’ve truly convinced yourself that you cannot be happy in your body. Even if you have noticed your strength levels increasing and really want to push yourself more. But you won’t let that positivity ring free like the woman on your television always wishes you would. 

“You did a great job!” Jane’s voice rings throughout your living room as the workout video ends, and you scramble for the remote, having had enough of these cheery attitudes for one morning.

You sit back on your hands, stretch out your legs, and try to steady your breath. Your knees have carpet burn, and you can feel sweat dripping down your temples. 

You may be a heaving mess, but you need more. The workouts have gotten easy, and you need something new. 

A woman runs by outside your window in a bright pink leotard and blue jogging shorts, matching pink leg warmers meeting her tennis shoes.

I could try that, you think. Maybe I’d like running. 

You certainly didn’t like it in school, but most of that was the result of shitty phys-ed teachers and the fact that you were never the athlete those instructors wanted you to be. 

You push off the floor and stalk to your room, digging for the sneakers you know are buried in the back of your closet. You have to try this. You need to keep pushing yourself. And if you don’t do it now, with this sudden spark of energy, you probably never will. 

Five minutes. You can run for five minutes. And if you feel like you can after that time is up, you’ll do ten. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as you’re tying your shoes, shoving away the thoughts telling you that you’ll definitely not look as cute as that woman on the street or any other woman that goes for a run, their ponytail swaying and their cheeks perfectly pinked. 

But what does it matter? You have to try. You have to be productive and make something out of yourself. You can’t deal with the pulsing, clawing thoughts of self-hatred anymore. Your body has to change.

The only problem is that you haven’t yet realized your mindset must too.

The heat that swallows you up when you step out of your front door is almost enough to send you right back inside. But how disappointed will you be in yourself if you retreat that quickly? 

You let your body begin to walk before your brain can start to argue. Your street doesn’t really have a sidewalk, so you keep to one side as the cyclists and other joggers do, ensuring you won’t be in anyone’s way. Subconsciously, you’re already making yourself smaller even though there’s no one outside to judge you. 

You look down at your watch, noting the time, and start to run. Not as though you’re being chased by a serial killer—or a man—but enough that it counts as a run. Those first few seconds are blissful. You feel like a little kid as the adrenaline spreads through your veins. Like your mom has just called you in because dinner is ready, like you're racing against the sunset so that your feet land inside the door just before the streetlights flick on. 

You forgot what it was like to move your body in this way. To feel this momentary freedom. You make it about three minutes before your side starts to hurt, a telltale sign that you haven’t done this in far too long. The heat is starting to get to you too, but you said you’d go for five, and that’s what you’re doing. 

It’s pitiful, the way you press yourself to the inside of your front door, trying to catch your breath from that little bit of work. Why did it hurt so much more than everything Jane Fonda tells you to do? 

Maybe you’re not meant to be the athletic type. Or maybe I need to eat something, you think. I need to make a plan for myself. That could make it easier. 

You can’t eat with your shirt sticking to your back though, so you strip and turn the shower on, practically jumping under the cool stream of water. But not before you glance at your body in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Your hands find your stomach, eye each stretch mark and bit of cellulite. Each extra-soft spot of skin, every part of you that doesn’t conform to the vision you have in your head. 

You wish that five minute run had fixed everything. That you could magically look like an aerobics instructor and be happy in your own skin. Your eyes fill with tears, and you think for a minute that it could be better to just stop before you get ahead of yourself. What’s the point? You don’t know if you have it in you to wait and see results. And you know you won’t turn into someone else, won’t form a new shape…and then you’re spiraling. You can’t think of a single reason why exercising is worth it.

Because it can be fun. Because it pushes you and makes you stronger. You shove this tiny voice away and let your gaze flick back to the shower, where you’ve completely abandoned your cold sanctuary. You hop in and start scrubbing your hair, trying to think of anything that isn’t your body in that mirror, anything other than how much you looked like a fraud trying to fit in with everyone else. 

————

You continue on this way for a while longer: running in the mornings, doing as many of the Jane Fonda videos as you have access to at work, drinking more water, blah blah blah. One of the perks of working at the library is that you can check out as many tapes as you want. But you’ve done all of Jane’s workouts, and you need more. 

You could swim, but when is the community pool ever not full to the brim during the summer? You could try jazzercise. No. That’s just not for you. You could…go to the gym. 

The pool also has small gyms for both women and men, and you know the men’s one is usually very busy, but most of the women in Hawkins take part in other forms of exercise. And if you went in the mornings…you might have the place to yourself. You might could try and tone up. 

God, this sounds so stupid. 

And your heart rate picks up just thinking about doing this very new and very big and very embarrassing thing, but you want to do it. You’re going to try. 

Hopefully you’ll just go unnoticed. This is a totally normal thing for people to do, right? 

The community pool opens at ten during the week, but the doors to the gyms open at seven. And that’s what time you get there, out of pure fear that you’ll have to interact with another human and make a fool of yourself. But the universe must be looking out for you on this particular morning, because the door is unlocked, and you slip in without any hassle. 

Billy isn’t a morning person. He never has been, but an excuse to get out of his hellhole of a house before anyone else is up to fuck with him? Yeah, he jumped at that opportunity. 

Usually the manager opens the gyms and stays to open the pool during the summer, but he volunteered. Especially because he can usually get in a workout before his shift technically even starts. 

He’ll bench as much as he can without a spot, work on the pull ups he never tells anyone he struggles with. It just feels good to be able to use his muscles and push himself. Billy is proud of what his body can do, what it does for him, how it protects him—and he’s not ashamed to admit that.

His body is one of the only things he has control over, and he’s heard his share of people talking about how vain he is, how he shouldn’t spend so much time doing this or that. But he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s built a body he’s proud of and feels comfortable in, and truthfully he feels like everyone should be comfortable in their body without anyone else pushing them to look another way. 

Billy is leaning against his car, hands tangled in his hair in an effort to tie it up, a cigarette dangling loosely from his full lips when he sees you for the first time. 

He watches you get in your car, bag slung over your shoulder, interested only because he never sees another soul here this early. 

You’re pretty, he thinks. Your hairline shines in the morning sunlight, damp with sweat, your neck the same. Your sports bra peeks through your pale shirt, and one of your slouchy socks is hiked up higher than the other. You’ve clearly just finished working out, but he thinks you look breathtaking. 

There’s something about you. Something light and sweet that he can feel even from this distance, like something is telling him you have a good soul. 

The next time Billy sees you, you come out of the door looking frustrated—he assumes at yourself. He doesn’t want to bother you, but he would like to talk to you at some point. 

You turn around when you go to unlock your car door and lock eyes with him. Your heart stutters at the fact that someone has caught you, probably knows you were exercising. But he is gorgeous. You give him a small smile, and climb into the driver's seat. All you can think on the drive home is that it must be nice to be so effortlessly gorgeous. 

————

You continue on this way for weeks. Close to a month. You workout, you wave and acknowledge one another. This other person who you share this tiny thing with and who you are not judged by. 

On this particular day, you decide to be brave though. You packed a swimsuit, and you’re going to speak to that gorgeous boy and hope he doesn’t get freaked out by you. 

You place your weights back on the rack, the muscles in your thighs pulsing, your arms feeling like jelly. You’ve only worked your way up to the set of fifteens, but that’s something, right? 

You’re sweating, and dread walking outside into the swath of steadily climbing heat and humidity. Your heart pounds at the prospect of speaking to him. 

With your bag over your shoulder, you push open the door and step outside, jumping almost immediately. “Shit!” 

Billy laughs at your reaction, both because he hadn’t expected to frighten you, and because your jolt was pretty entertaining to witness. 

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, “I didn’t mean to make you lose your shit, it’s just too hot to stand anywhere without shade.”

You lean against the cool metal door behind you. “Fuck,” you sigh. “My survival skills are clearly not what they should be.”

Billy laughs into his drink, taking a swig from the Coke he bought at the vending machine. 

“You headed out?” he asks, subconsciously fussing with a belt loop. 

“Well, yeah, I was. But um, I was going to ask a favor from you, if that’s okay?” You must sound like a dumbass, speaking to this man for the very first time, only to ask him for something.

“Shoot,” Billy responds.

“Do you think it’d be okay for me to swim a few laps in the pool? I know it’s not open yet, and I haven’t even told you my name, but I promise not to be a bother or anything. I just kind of wanted a chance to swim when there was no one else around, you know?”

Billy finishes his drink and tosses the can in the recycling bin inches from your hip. It lands with a resounding ping. 

You start to think this was a very stupid idea, and that maybe you should’ve just kept yourself at home like always.

“You can totally say no—”

“Yeah, sure I don’t see why not—”

Your words clash together and the both of you start to laugh. You raise your hand, gesturing for him to continue his thought. 

“It’s fine by me if you swim a little. I doubt you’re gonna trash the place.” He grins at you, dimples forming in his cheeks. “I’m Billy, by the way.”

A heat rises up your neck and washes over the tips of your ears. You tell him your name and thank him for letting you bend the rules. 

“Ah, fuck the rules. It’s just a community pool,” he winks, opening up the gate for you and telling you to have at it. 

You’d put your one-piece on underneath your workout clothes this morning, and you try to ignore the prick of shame, even disgust, that you feel having put your body in it as you wade into the pool. 

The water is cool, and as it drenches you, you feel lighter, somehow. You swim out to the deep end and push off the wall with your toes, propelling yourself underwater and kicking for as long as you can go while holding your breath. 

The little girl that still lives within your soul leaps to the surface, giddy with each push off the wall, each stroke of your arms underneath the water. She is excited. Free. 

She isn’t thinking about what your stomach looks like in this swimsuit or how stupid you probably look with your sloppy swimming skills. 

You swim for maybe twenty minutes, or at least until your shoulders are aching. You kick over to the wall, hoisting yourself up just that little bit so you can prop your elbows up on the warming concrete. 

You feel so light here that it almost makes you forget why you came. 

You hear footsteps and Billy appears from around the corner, a fluffy white towel in hand. 

“You getting out? I figured I’d come and make sure you hadn’t drowned.” 

You giggle. The sound makes him smile, pearly white teeth on display. Your eyes are drawn to his, where the summer sun has multiplied his freckles so much that they blanket his nose and the tops of his cheeks, washing over his temples. 

“I appreciate you looking out for my safety,” you say, climbing up the short ladder. Billy holds out a hand to help you steady yourself as you stand. You’re hesitant to take it because you’re all wet, but your hand moves before your mind takes control. “Thank you.” You give him a shy smile.

He grins at you and hands you the towel. You wrap it around your shoulders and follow him back under the awning when he starts walking away. Billy leans up against the cold brick wall and you stand, a little nervously, in front of him, trying to think of what to say. 

“I’ll admit, uh, it’s been nice to see someone else here so early in the mornings.” Billy lets out a huff of a laugh. “I was gonna ask though, why’d you pick this shithole to workout in?”

You pull the damp towel tighter against your torso. “It’s a quiet shithole,” you say. “And this whole exercising thing is pretty new to me, you know? I didn’t want to be somewhere people could see me like that.”

You realize how self-deprecating that comment was, realize you’re being too upfront, and try to quickly cover your ass. “What about you?” you ask, daring to make eye contact just to make sure he’s not disturbed. 

“Well, it came with the job,” he laughs, “and I love working out. Always have. Plus, it might be a shitty place, but the older equipment is a lot better than what newer gyms are using. So it works for me.”

Huh. 

“Oh. Nice.” You chew on your thumbnail. What a fuckup you are. 

Billy tilts his head, trying to encourage your gaze to raise to his. “What just happened?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

You look at him, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair and arms crossed in front of his chest. “It’s nothing…I just don’t really know what to say to someone who enjoys the gym? Who has a positive relationship with it and everything.”

A crease forms between Billy’s brows. “You’ve been crazy consistent with it, but you don’t like it?” He asks you, but based on your body language and how you’ve acted the past month every time you head out, everything adds up and Billy knows the answer before it even leaves your mouth. 

You shake your head, ashamed that you even brought this up. “No,” you laugh nervously. “I hate it. I only started because I’m unhappy with myself? So it’s more of a punishment than something that brings me joy.”

Billy’s chest squeezes at your words. That is exactly why he started working out all those years ago. To make himself stronger because he was ashamed his father had power over him. Because he wasn’t good enough for anyone, so out of anger he made himself more powerful.

But he doesn’t want you to feel that way. You shouldn’t be working out purely to punish yourself for some absurd reason your mind has come up with. 

And even though Billy has had very minimal interactions with you, he likes you. He wouldn’t wish the horrible thoughts he’s had for himself on anyone else, but he gets the feeling you already know. 

“Well, I’m not gonna berate you or nothin.’ But uh, if you ever want help, or want to workout together so it’s not so miserable, let me know alright?”

You smirk at him, hoping to make the situation a bit less awkward. “Are you implying you’re the reason working out would become less miserable?”

Billy laughs, glad to see you’re not totally opposed to the idea of him offering help. “Yeah. But really, you shouldn’t have to hate it y’know? If I can help you figure out not to hate it…I’d like to try. And we could get to know each other better.”

Billy fidgets with the lighter in his pocket. He’s weaned off cigarettes, but he keeps loads of lighters around so he has something to occupy his hands with. If not, it’s usually not a good situation for him to be in. 

Your heart squeezes at the genuine quality in his words. You feel like you’re a lost cause at this point, but there’s a big part of you, the soft and squishy and easily flustered one, that wants to take him up on this offer. 

You nod, wrapping up your towel so you can drop it in the bin and go get changed. “Okay. I’ll think about it, Billy. Promise.”

————

“One more.”

“I can’t, Billy. I told you, I’m not strong enough for this shit.”

You swear when you’re frustrated. Billy has learned that over the past few weeks. 

He crouches, leveling with you. Your knee bounces, the dumbbells in your hands sitting on the tops of your thighs. “Yes, you can. You’re already up to twenty-fives for your presses. Try one more for me and then you can rest a minute.”

Your eyes well with tears that you quickly blink away as you settle back against the bench. This is the point in a workout where you just start to hate yourself. You think it’s pointless, you know you’re body hasn’t changed enough, you feel like total shit—everything just feels fucked.

You use your knees to help lift the dumbbells and slowly lift them to the appropriate height, making sure to protect your shoulders like Billy taught you. You inhale and raise them up. Your arms are shaking, especially your non-dominant one which is really fighting this shoulder press, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to lift them fully until you do. 

“Fuck, yeah!” Billy’s voice reaches your ears just as you’re lowering your arms, completely out of breath. You set the dumbbells on the floor. 

Billy is thrilled for you. He can see the progress you’re making, how much stronger you are and less hesitant to try new exercises.

When you look up at him the expression on your face tells him you are not thrilled. 

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

You stand and walk over to the mirror that covers one whole wall. You put your hands on your hips and bite the inside of your cheek. “Billy, will you look at me, honestly?” You gesture to your body. “This is the matter. I don’t look any different than the first day I showed up here, do I? Even if I’ve been busting my ass, I’ll just never—”

You stop, rubbing your hands down your face and over your bloodshot eyes. 

“You’ll never what?” Billy locks eyes with you in the mirror. 

You set a hand on your chest, nails digging into your skin. “My body will never be good enough for me. I’ll always look at every other person that walks by, jealous that they have the figure I want and I’ll never have. Why did I have to get stuck with this shit? Why couldn’t I be given a body that I’d be happy with. Life if fucking hard enough, why couldn’t I have this one thing?”

“And you’re just so effortlessly gorgeous, you know that? I wish it was that easy for me, too. It’s just like, why am I even doing this anymore when I know I’ll never look the way other women do? I’m bullshitting myself, aren’t I, Billy? Working out like it’s gonna do anything.”

You exhale and drag your arm across your nose, avoiding Billy’s gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.” Billy’s tone is firm. “Listen for a second, will you?”

“You are getting stronger. You’re using heavier weights all around. Shit, you’re up to fifty for your deadlifts. Hold your arm up for me—yeah, and squeeze, yep. Look at that.” 

He taps his index and middle finger on your bicep, on the bit of muscle you’ve grown and shape you’ve built. “You are absolutely not bullshitting yourself, you hear me? If anything, you’re bullshitting yourself by thinking you can’t be happy in this body. You don’t have to look like other women. Who the fuck put that idea in your head? I don’t know if you see how I look at you, but I think you’re gorgeous, and I love to see you becoming more comfortable in the movements you do, in your own strength. Your body does so fuckin’ much for you.”

Billy is still keeping eye contact with you in the mirror. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and you swear you sweat more because you know he’s right and you know you are getting stronger but fuck you just can’t believe that. You look at him and you just wish you were that lithe, that comfortable in your own skin. 

“I’m doing this with you—hey, take a deep breath, alright?” He clocks the way you’re shaking out your hands, trying to keep yourself from breaking. Crying. Screaming out of frustration. “I’m doing this with you because I used to be just like this, you hear me?” 

He hates being vulnerable, fucking despises it, but he knows that giving you this information, giving you this little pathway into his life just might save you right now. 

“I worked out all through junior high and high school because I fuckin’ hated myself, and I thought if I could get bigger, if I could make myself look intimidating, then maybe other people wouldn’t treat me like shit. That part worked in some places, but I didn’t like myself any more because I hadn’t sorted through any of my mental shit.”

He says your name. Slowly. You like the way it sounds when he says it, hating the way it sounds when it leaves your own lips. 

“I know we aren’t all that close yet, but I see so much fuckin’ potential in you. I’m not gonna let you suffer with all this shit alone. I know you hate your body, but this is the one you were given, and there’s no point spending so much time destroying yourself over that simple fact.”

You turn around to face him, your hands on the sides of your neck, rubbing as if that will stop the emotion from rising in your throat. It doesn’t work. Billy’s eyes move back and forth between yours, across your face, tracking every change in your expression. He recognizes what you’re doing, trying to suppress all of this. 

“C’mere.”

You go before your mind can fight back. Billy takes you in his arms, tucking your face into his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

You breathe unsteadily into his skin. You don’t care that he smells like sweat and you smell like sweat and that you’re shaking and tears are slipping from your eyes. His arms are strong, and the feeling of his biceps squeezing you closer, his hands running up and down your back, it makes it all feel like it’s okay. 

“It’s just so fucking hard, Billy,” you mumble, lifting your head up slightly. “It’s not fair. I just want to be pretty and normal and have a body I can accept like everyone else.”

Billy gently touches his index finger just below your chin, coaxing your gaze up to meet his. “I know it is. And I mean it when I say that you are pretty. Honestly, you gotta think about how many ‘pretty’ people there are out there, people who have the bodies the tabloids tell them to have—and are absolute dicks. Hell, that’s how I was in high school.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, signaling that he did get a little joy in you having admitted that, even if it’s not a full on smile. His thumb swipes down your cheek, mopping up the little track left by a tear. 

“Point is, this, what I’m holding right now, is your body. No one else would know it like you do, know how to take care of it, know where each mark has come from or each thing you’ve put it through. Each thing it’s gotten you through. You can accept it, because I’m going to help you get to a point where you can look in the mirror and not shit-talk yourself.”

You pull back a little, pressing the palms of your hands to your face, your elbows slightly poking the top of Billy’s rib cage. “I’m just so scared.”

“I got you, you hear me?” He pulls your shirt away from your collarbones just so it’s not sticking to your skin so much. “You don’t need to be scared. Not with me.”

You nod. And you keep doing that until it feels a little more believable. 

————

Billy can’t stop looking at you. 

And he really needs to focus before he runs off the sidewalk and into the road. 

But for the first time in the few months he’s known you, you look free. You look happy. You look all of these things and you’re running. There’s a baseball cap perched backwards on your head, one of his from forever ago that he lent (gave) you when you mentioned you didn’t have any. 

He can smell the sunscreen you’ve slathered all over yourself, see the sweat dripping down your spine. This is the first time you’ve felt brave enough to go out in just a sports bra and a cropped sweatshirt, bright colored biker shorts covering the tops of your thighs. Your frilly socks make it too, just because it shows how much more comfortable you’ve gotten with doing this. 

It turns out you never hated running. You just needed to do it in a different atmosphere, with different thoughts running through your head. And having a good running partner helps, too. 

“There’s a bench up here if you want to rest a second before we finish,” Billy says through a rather aggressive exhale. You’re glad the sun is setting, because that makes it so much cooler than when you try to run in the morning with the sun beating down on you and seeping into your veins.

You sit down, taking a long drink from your water. Billy crouches on the sidewalk, shaking out his hair and retying the mess of a bun he was wearing. 

“You’re doing so good today,” he tells you, winking at you from his place just a few inches to your left. 

You grin into your water bottle. “How long was that?” you ask. 

He rises and sits down next to you, his arm slung behind your back on the bench. His thumb brushes the shell of your ear, rubs over the little hoop you’re wearing. You watch as he does a little math in his head, checking out where exactly you are. “Little over two miles, bee.” 

Bee. Your heart skips every time he says that. It’s a very new thing, but it sort of slipped out one day, and you’ve loved it ever since. 

“What movie you wanna see this weekend, honeybee? My treat.”

When you’d asked why he chose that name for you, he’d teased at first, telling you it was just because you’re so damn sweet. But really it was a little more sappy than that. 

“Well, you are sweet. And bubbly when you want to be. But think about how much shit those little fuckers get done. How persistent and focused. They’re all cute and fuzzy n’ whatever, but they’re like, badass lil’ things, y’know?” 

Your knee bounces excitedly on the pavement. “Really?” That’s the farthest you’ve run so far. And you didn’t even hate it. You had…fun.

Billy laughs, throwing his head back a little and bearing his neck to you. It shines with sweat and it almost looks like he’s glowing. “Fuck yeah. You’ve been kicking my ass this week. I hate running.”

“But you do it with me,” you say.

“But I do it with you.”

You reach over your shoulder and squeeze his hand. “I like running better when it’s with you. Just for the record.” He squeezes back, lifting your hand up gently to press his lips to it. 

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

A crease forms between your brows as you meet his gaze. “What for?”

“For not giving up.” You start to argue with him, but he continues before you can belittle yourself even the slightest bit. “You’ve kept at this, at trying to get yourself stronger and to try and feel more comfortable in what your body can do. I know you probably still wish you looked like some fuckin’ model or some shit, but I can see how much you’ve eased up, you know?” 

You nod, giving him a small smile. “I do still wish that sometimes. It would be easier. But I’m getting better, I think. I hate to tell you you’re right—,” he shoots you that cocky, prideful grin, “but my body does do a lot for me. I’m starting to accept that it can do a lot for me…” 

You trail off, tapping the toes of your sneakers on the concrete below you. “And I did squat with the bar and those little plates yesterday without a spot.” 

The spot in question was watching you carefully from a few feet away, ready to sprint if you needed help. 

“Yes, you did, bee. You’re kicking ass.” That dimple forms in his cheek, and you know he’s about to say something smart. “Speaking of ass—”

You stand abruptly, turning around quickly so that the area he’s speaking of isn’t directly in his face. You’ve learned he has a staring problem, specifically with that part of you. Not that you mind. Maybe that’s where your pride comes in.

————

The sun has slipped beneath the horizon by the time Billy slips his key into the gate, pulling it securely shut behind him. The first spattering of stars are trying to show in the purple-blue sky. 

The pool is calm, empty, and lit only by the pale bulbs built into it and the two light poles on either side of the patio. 

It was Billy’s idea to sneak in for a late night swim. He thought it would be fun, and he knows you hate swimming in an overcrowded pool. But truthfully, he just wanted to give you another space where you could feel completely without judgment and just exist. 

“What’s the plan here, Billy? I didn’t even think about taking a detour to get a swimsuit.” 

It’s true, you’ve felt so carefree around him that you weren’t overthinking, overanalyzing a scenario like this. You weren’t worried about running inside and finding the most full coverage bathing suit you have because you’re afraid of Billy seeing your body. But right now…you just feel calm. Your body isn’t perfect, but it’s okay if he at least sees your legs. 

Billy is already slipping off his shoes and taking off his shirt. “That’s because the point of this is being spontaneous, bee.” He walks to the far end of the pool and dives in, just in his little running shorts, before you can even blink. 

You’re nervous, just that little bit because this is so different from something you’d usually do, and now you’re just stripping? You’re just living and having a good time? Who the fuck are you?

You step out of your own shorts and pull off your socks. You’re left in your underwear and your little cropped sweatshirt. You register, as you walk down the stairs, that your underwear are blue, and you look just like Lisa from Weird Science. It makes you smile. 

You track Billy’s movements once you're up to your waist and realize he’s heading for you. He squeezes your ankle beneath the water before coming to the surface, a wide grin on his face. His necklace is stuck around his back and on instinct you reach out to straighten it. 

His eyes drag up and down your figure. “Hi, gorgeous.” The low drawl of his voice makes the tips of your ears burn. 

You wade a little deeper into the water, circling behind him. When you’re drenched up to your chest, you splash him. Billy cackles. It is possibly the most joyous sound you’ve ever heard. 

He dives for your waist, hooking an arm around you and swimming off, making you howl with laughter before you have to hold your own breath when he pulls you out deeper than you are tall.

He hoists you up out of the water and gently tosses you to the side, letting you fall into the water on your back. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is magical. 

You keep playing with him, playing, like you’re both kids who’ve never been in a pool before, until you’ve run through most of your energy. You try and teach him a game you played as a child, where one person spreads their legs and your goal is to swim between them without touching their skin, even as they move their legs closer together each time. 

It’s silly, because you inevitably know you’ll touch your opponents legs, but it’s fun. You don’t think about anything else when you do it. He teases you though, trapping you with his calves most times so you automatically lose. 

Now though, you and Billy stand nose to nose, at a depth where you’re not up to your chin so that you can actually speak to him. “This was a really good idea,” you tell him. You push some of his wet hair out of his face and then, rather than pulling away, you set your hands on his shoulders. 

He wraps his arms around your waist. “This okay?” he asks, lowering one arm so he can show you he wants to lift you up. You give him a sweet yes. 

Billy’s hand grips your thigh, coaxing you upward so you can get your legs around his back. You adjust your arms behind his head, him respectfully keeping his hands on the backs of your thighs. He steps back just that little bit more so he can submerge himself further in the water now that you’re held up. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile for this long before,” Billy says. His blue eyes flick back and forth between your own. 

“You’ve given me a lot more reasons to.” Your hand cups his cheek and he swears he could fucking collapse. You’re so gentle with him and Billy never knew he even wanted that. But now he craves it. Craves you. 

That cocky smirk you’ve started to recognize before it even begins makes an appearance. “Yeah? Can I give you one more reason to?”

You hum in agreement, and then Billy is pressing his lips to yours. They’re damp and he tastes a little like chlorine, but…he was right. You smile brilliantly into the kiss, and you’re not sure you stop the rest of the night either. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[targaryenluvs]

— CHARITY

pairing: dark!president!coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

summary: president snow was praised for his love and devotion to his wife, a cripple. if only they knew how you’d ended up that way.

warnings: violence, basically torture, unhinged coryo, obsession, forced marriage, short fic

a/n: based on this request, this is actually insane

what an angel he is.

the capitol viewed your dear husband as nothing short of a saint. an amazing president, an even better husband. of course they all knew about you, his dear wife, the one who swept him off his feet.

the start of your marriage was torture enough for you, having been forced into it by your parents. all they could talk about was what a sweet man coriolanus was. how accomplished he was. it didn’t matter what he’d been in the past, he had built himself up again and he was undeniably coveted by many. you should be thanking him for choosing you.

yet you couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

you’d already told him you weren’t interested. you weren’t charmed by the copious amounts of gifts he’d sent your way. the poetry books that you were sure you’d never talked about to anyone else, only written of in your journals and read at home. the pretty dresses and jewellery but the only gift you’d accept of coriolanus’s was his absence from your life.

and he couldn’t handle it so he went over your head and enticed your parents.

you hated him with your whole soul and every bone in your body whilst he worshipped you. “you look gorgeous, fit to be my wife.” you stood in front of him, hand in hand, wedding dress donned and ready to marry.

you wanted to punch him in the face yet you held your breath, and smiled at him as well as the guests, of which you knew only a few. he kept you restricted, as if on lockdown in your own home. he was like a leech, feeding in your happiness and you’d been sucked dry. coriolanus was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to you and you wouldn’t let him win.

so you ran.

you’d made it about a few steps down the street before his sleek black car pulled up, his driver walking around to you whilst you backed up, all the way against the tall, black bars of your home. prison.

“did you think you’d get far? that i’d let you? you are my wife, my responsibility, you are here for me. i was trying so hard to give you space, to let you adjust and you took advantage of my generosity.” his words were filled with spite, each word piercing your skin.

he was truly insane.

“generosity? generosity? you forced me into a marriage and expect me to kneel down and kiss your feet for this? for me to not fight back? i have never loved you nor will i coriolanus.” you were a cornered animal, only being able to lash out, bad mistake. the sun reflected off of the crowbar in his hand, twirled between his hands as he stepped out of the car, you were shrinking into yourself whilst he grew taller.

a selfish man stealing the oxygen you needed, the freedom, and now, your abilities.

“how many times must i correct you, it’s coryo darling.”

the unspeakable pain broke your heart, your throat raw from the shrieking and screaming. eyes stinging at the touch of a hand, puffy and sore. blood drawn from your lips tasted metallic and odd, yelling seemed to do nothing so you resorted to biting down on anything.

he’d shattered your legs.

you’d never walk again.

you’d have to rely on him.

you were confined to a wheel chair for your life.

he now controlled where you went.

you’d never be able to move on your own.

in your desperation to escape you’d overlooked and underestimated coriolanus’s obsession for you. he knew the second you’d stepped out of the home, either he was waiting for it or was always ready to come home. whether it was a trap or just bad luck, you were stuck.

most of panem viewed your husband to be an absolute angel, he could have remarried, he could have turned you away yet he stuck by your side, ever the supportive partner. how lucky you were! the rest of them saw you as a chore, someone undeserving, unable to provide for your family. he was a nice man.

you were just charity.

[ashrayus]

PLSSSS MORE FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS OF JASON TODDDD!

DUDEE!!!! really happy u asked but also omg this got long agaiN who would have thought (!) i added summaries this time tho :)

here is part one of my fic recs XD

andd heres the new ones!! pls give them some love if u read them :D

Dick and Jason:

how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade

There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.

starting strong with Angst go read all of sun’s fics i always die and get revived <333 pls mind the tags on this one

cast on/cast off by hellsreluctantheir

“This is surprisingly non-destructive for Jason,” Dick comments, lightly. In the parking lot, Jason pulls a grenade out of one of his pockets, yanks the pin, and tosses it through the roller door and out of sight, before tearing out of the parking lot in chase of the truck. “Well, for a minute there,” Dick amends. He takes a step back towards the alley the batmobile is parked in, giving Bruce a quick glance. “We following? “No,” Bruce says, as the grenade goes off. “He’s cleared the warehouse. We can get into the office.” Dick sighs again. But Jason knows he can call in if he needs help.

time loop!!! read most of this writer's fics and fell in love with them all,, go read fr

bloodstained by hellsreluctantheir

“I know where the clinic is, asshole,” Jason said. The wad of gauze he was using to keep pressure kept slipping against his shoulder. The knife had caught the space between two panels, split to allow movement. Lucky shot. “Ok, let me make sure you get there without passing out from blood loss,” Dick said, a deliberate evenness to his tone, like he was doing his best to accomodate someone who was being completely unreasonable. Shithead. “I’m not going to pass out,” Jason said, ignoring the fact that he was actually feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. He caught himself with his good shoulder on the entry to the bathroom, took a deep breath. “What would Daddy Bats think if he knew you were here, trying to help me?” “I assume something like, ‘Wow, Dick, you’re such a good brother, trying so hard to make sure Jason is ok even when he’s being a complete idiot about it,’” Dick sniped.

heres another one from them. jasons scars and dick. andd another one next

brothers in arms by hellsreluctantheir

It wasn’t like none of them went undercover. Jason practically lived there. And he’d punch anyone who tried to make it a sob story for him, to cluck over the times he’d been alone in a pit of vipers, act like it was some tragedy. But given half a minute to think about it, Dick somewhere completely cut off from everyone but Bruce, no allies on hand, surrounded by enemies. Angry as he was at the lie, there was something about that he just fucking hated. or Thinking your brother is dead and then finding out he's been alive the whole time really has a way of making you rethink the relationship.

Shelter by Ptelea

Two safe houses, two nights dealing with the aftermath of fear toxin, multiple conversations, several meals. Written for Sholio's September 2020 Comfort Fest for a prompt from Musesfool. Warning-wise, there's nothing graphic here but there are definitely references to past canon trauma for both the characters.

the way they are written here <33

Rotten Fruits by couldyoublameme

“I’m fine,” Dick assured gently, sitting up slightly. “Just a bad night, is all.” It’s a familiar phrase he has used so often. Whenever the addiction crawls back into his mind, a parasite he can never truly get rid of. The family knows what it means. Knows what the ‘bad’ is. Knows what to do. “Oh,” Jason says. “Why?”

absolutely murdered me. pls do mind the tags

You Can Do Better Than That by AlexaAffect

All Jason could hear was his own ragged breathing. He desperately gasped for air, each breath more exhausting than the last and his lungs and throat burned with the effort. In. And, he needed a second longer with every breath he took, out. His arms had been suspended for the last… 15? minutes? Jason had quit keeping track of the time, he’d been too preoccupied trying to hold himself upright, trying to ease his position, switch it up, anything to prolong the guaranteed death. “Red Hood?” That was Dick’s voice. Huh. So they had found him fast enough. Or alternatively; Dick finds a kidnapped Jason shortly before he asphyxiates.

this fic is just oddly comforting to me idk. very precious

Equivalent Exchange by Lysical

Apparently favors don't expire on death. --"What do you want, Dick?" "For you to be happy, Jay." Dick leaned over and pinched his cheek. Jason reached up and swiped at him, scowling. "And world peace."

ADORABLE and fun

Just for Now by Lysical

Jason was back in Gotham and the timing couldn't be worse for him to need assistance on a case. He didn't want to see any of the Bats and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Nightwing was the worst option for Oracle to pick to help him out.

To Reconcile by CasualDanger

“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by someplacewarm

Dick's been putting off meeting with Jason for a while now, but when a distress call comes through, he has no choice but to answer. Or the one where Dick and Jason talk, fight, get high and cuddle. In that order.

making gold out of it by vmkhoney

Dick talks himself back down on the bathroom floor, clinical and detached. (For someone whose primary skill is manipulating his body, it’s not very often that he feels connected to it.) - Or, five years after Blockbuster, Dick begins teetering on the ledge of processing what Catalina did to him.

a wonderful dick grayson fic, and jason is there being a good brother. mind the tags

What Hurts You by blueyeti

Dick comes to Jason's aid when he's injured in a fight, or at least he thinks he has.

jason has no scars!! and thats also sad

at me, too, someone is looking by bacondoughnut

Dick Grayson knows he's got problems when the Red Hood's busted leg somehow becomes his concern. aka; How Dick Grayson finds out Jason Todd is alive. A story about healing.

a rather long one for my standards XD (very short attention span) but this made me sit down and read. very fun jason

Bruce and Jason:

Saltwater and Desperation by bacondoughnut

Jason's not sure how he even manages to get himself out of the harbor. He's just glad Bruce is there when he does. Not that he'll ever, ever admit as much out loud.

same writer, love this jason (and bruce) so much

Insomnolence by navree

It's not like he slept much as a kid anyway; this is just a return to the status quo. He's not overly tired, and even if he's been sleeping less than his already limited amount throughout April, that's still not any of her business. Bad memories are already bad enough even before they spend the next few years in the aftermath becoming nightmares.

navree being The bruce and jason writer for me all of their fics are so o(- (

Ash Into The Wind by navree

This is his dad in there, the first man he ever called Dad, at any rate, and even after everything, booze and jail and Bruce and death and then death again, there's never going to be a part of Jason that isn't gutted that he's dead. One night, a wraith in a red helmet slips onto the grounds of Blackgate Penitentiary to steal one specific thing.

another one from them

Trapped by lurkinglurkerwholurks

BatFam Week 2018, Day Two. Prompt: Trapped Yes, the prompt is "trapped" and it's a Jason fic. I'm so, so sorry. (Not really, though.) Please see tags for potential triggers.

binge read this writers fics recently they write them so nice

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies

Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance.

Jason and Batfam:

Names and Neapolitan by Muddell

“Goddamnnit Robin,” Hood is there, pulling him into his arms. Robin sees that helmet, he sees the green eyes, the dark hair, he sees open, gray, Gotham sky, and hears tires squealing, and then he sees stone. He sees the cave. Bruce is there. Alfred is there. Dick is there. And Hood is there. Robin rolls in and out of consciousness. He reaches out, snatches the smell of copper and the touch of leather, and he holds Hood’s hand and he does not let go. He’s allowed to say it now. “Jason,” he says. “Don’t leave.” Or, following Dick telling Tim about his older brother, to Tim actually knowing him.

read a couple fics from this writer all so good!!!

Six Ways to Sunday by Muddell

Jason catches Duke hiding a headache and says, is anyone going to deal with that?

same writer!! really love their jason

Settle Down and Sleep by OberonBronze

A series of vignettes about seeking comfort. Damian tries his hand at being a comfort animal; Tim shows up at Jason’s place for an impromptu sleepover; Jason bonds with his older brother after a damaging fear toxin trip; Dick and Bruce have a long-overdue conversation.

really liked jason and dick in this :)

Tuck Me In by OberonBronze

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

think how great it is to fall asleep (and how terrible it is to wake up) by mikkal

Jason was fifteen, barely five foot, and underweight for his age when he died. When he came back to his body, suddenly he was too tall, too scarred, too much, too different. And he just... never got used to it. (Or: 5 times a Bat noticed/discovered his body dysphoria post resurrection)

Stranger Danger by alchemistsarego, whumpinaheartbeat (alchemistsarego)

There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness. Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too. A blanket? No, a jacket.

jason and others:

Past Experience by Rookblonkorules

He thinks he might be dying. Again.

clark and jason :)

Bats in the Belfry by endlessnepenthe

Hal idly wonders how long he has before he's found. Probably not very. The Bat's freaky like that. (Or, Hal goes to Gotham and discovers that Batman's brand of freaky isn't exactly one of a kind.)

jason and hal jordan??! and slade? and magic.

[physalian]

In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

[stardustbuck]

I feel like atp even if there were plans to make bvddie canon theyre gone now. if tim minear is even half as petty as I am he would see that reaction and go u know what fuck you u actually don't get what you want now cause ur acting so goddamn entitled. like when tarlos fans got mad about the deleted scenes instead of appreciating them being released and his reaction was to say "okay fine then I just won't release deleted scenes anymore" (like I'm sure it was mostly a marketing decision but part of me thinks they intentionally released a scene about bucktommy just to prove a point.) idk man it's just really upsetting as a bi man to see the absolutely vile shit bvddie stans are saying and even tho I love the ship I now never want it to go canon cause they've fuckin ruined it

hey anon, at first let me agree with the fact that i do in fact also love bvddie a lot and i still love reading fics for them, the edits of them are fantastic and the fanart is S tier. it’s a great pairing with a lot of potential there IF the writers decided to ever go there but…

huge answer below

yeah, i agree. i honestly think before tommy was introduced again in 7x03 and the kiss in 7x04 that in my brain, bvddie was the most logical endgame for buck until it wasn’t.

i came into the show shipping bvddie much like a lot of new fans to the show but instead of hopping onto the tommy anti express hate train i found myself falling in love with buck and tommy together. at first i was still on board with bvddie still being endgame but as each episode aired after 7x04 i became faced with the reality of the situation (at least the way i see it) that bvddie might always be fanon and that’s ok because fandom keeps ships alive whether they’re canon or not. some of the biggest ships EVER are non-canon (i mean, cmon spirk? one of the OG MM ships?) so it didn’t really deter me from enjoying bvddie to this day. what HAS deterred me from interacting with bvddie content is toxic bvddies. i don’t like using the lil nicknames, idc if other ppl do, whatever, but i prefer just referring to certain kinds as just toxic plain and simple.

toxic shippers have made it difficult for anyone who multiships to interact with bvddie content. while there are incredibly nice & welcoming bvddie endgamers out there, it doesn’t overshadow the hateful ones in my online experience at least. i’ve blocked so many ppl over this ship discourse, which ive never had to do with any other fandom before the extent i have with 911. everyday i still find new ppl to block, you go under almost any comment section on the 911 insta and its filled with nasty comments abt tommy and only caring abt whether bvddie will be canon in s8. people projecting their hatred of tommy/lou onto the cast/crew of the show when it’s be said and proven time and time again that it’s quite the opposite. now im certain there’s bad apples in the bucktommy side as well, but from what ive seen online so far it is not nearly to the caliber of the bvddie side. ive blocked maybe a handful of bucktommy’s for being hateful towards eddie or being toxic overall, but ive probably blocked over 100+ toxic bvddies. i can only imagine it’d be worse if i was active on 911 twt which i’m not (thank god) but i have ventured into the tags before on there and let me tell you, it’s fucking horrifying how gross ppl are over there. twt is a cesspool for fandom anyways tho, the fucking asshole of fandom, it’s a septic tank really.

now im my own opinion which could be completely untrue of course, but just basing my thoughts on what i’ve seen online and interviews and such, tim seems to be really happy about bucktommy and idk how ppl believe otherwise. tim has expressed he loves LFJ and wanted him back on the show. tim showed up on set for the kiss scene. tim posting an entire youtube vibe abt bucktommy being soulmates that touches on the invisible string theory and explains how they accidentally found buck’s perfect match. tim sharing the deleted tommy scene is also huge but im waiting to see if he releases more (because i remember seen somewhere that he said there’d be more?) and if he does then great but it’s also still pretty telling to me after the whole karaoke fiasco.

oliver has said nothing but praises towards buck’s queer storyline. he quite literally said if you dont like it then watch something else. despite ppl saying he’s never interacted with bucktommy content online, that’s a lie because he has liked fanart of them.

aisha, kenneth & tracie have all expressed how they like tommy/lou and love working with him.

jlh said she loved bvddie before but is excited to see where buck and tommy go and then on an insta live said she doesn’t think bvddie is happening and was bombarded by toxic fans to the point of ending the live early.

ppl think it’s all some ruse to make it seem like bvddie is never happening so when it does happen it’s a “surprise” ……..

the nasty hate comments are doing nothing but exposing these types of ppl for who they are and that honestly to them, 911 is just the bvddie show to them. the people who run these social media accs for 911 are looking at these comments and cringing, they aren’t running to tim and abc being like “we must give these crazies what they want!” they’re mostly likely being ignored or honestly, as you said, being looked at and just reinforcing their decision to most likely make tommy buck’s endgame so as long as his schedule is open for filming.

what gets me the most about the hate these types of shippers spew online is how they aren’t embarrassed because they are so sooo convinced they will be right one day and therefore their insane, nasty behavior online will be justified. oliver stark literally left twt because of fans like this, people act like he was joking around, that he was shooting the shit probably because “he’s british and british people just have that kind of humor” which yes to a certain extent but let me just add these posts to set an example to why if oliver were still on twt he absolutely would not be happy with the way toxic bvddies are acting right now.

oliver (and ryan&other cast too) being positive abt bvddie never meant it was going to be canon of become canon one day. they do not decide these things, whether they believe it should or not. a lot of bvddie shippers come from previous fandoms where queerbaiting was there, where they were made fun of by actors of their ships, by the creators of the show! so i understand the frustration but oliver is not queerbaiting and buck is not a queerbait character when he quite literally is now confirmed bisexual and in a relationship with a man.

he’s just not the “correct” queer to these people. despite headcanons (hell even i hc eddie as queer!!) eddie so far, in canon, is not queer. by the end s7 he is still shown to not be over shannon and ruins his relationship with his son over this. ryan has stated in interviews he sees eddie as heterosexual, possibly pushing this because of the influx of ship discourse, and he’s glad to see a vulnerable and deep friendship that buck and eddie can have as a straight man and a queer man and how important he thinks it is.

every single thing that points to bvddie never going canon is like they’re being shot point blank in the chest. i get it, your ship not becoming canon sucks, but again, that is what fandom is for! shipping has never been about how canon smth is, there is 20k fics out there for bvddie and they aren’t canon. they can turn that into 40k, 100k, 1M if they really wanted to! instead they use their time and energy posting death threats, wishing death upon a gay character, bullying ppl online for enjoying a ship.

meanwhile from what ive seen bucktommys are rolling with goofy ass spy tommy theories created by antis and making jokes for our own fun.

so yes, i agree overall. they truly don’t deserve what they think they do. we didn’t whine and scream for a deleted scene. they did. we got ours without even expecting it and are having fun.

maybe if they behaved better i wouldn’t be so petty abt it. it’s a shame because of how much potential it has, unfortunately it is just not going that way atm. and even if it does one day, it is not because they paraded online with hate, it is because that’s the story tim and the others wanted to write and abc approved it.

🫳🎤

[queenimmadolla]

Do you think some of Eddie peers are jealous that he’s got wife and 3 kids at home, sure Eddie feel into the rock and roll lifestyle but he didn’t let partying, groupies or drugs consume him, he’s got a loving wife and adorable kids waiting for him and they see that all of eddies love and devotion is for his family and music. Eddies just like “I do my job, rock out and go home”

Say he got invited to a big after party where he’ll party with Ozzy or Metallica but he declines because he just found out his kids are having their own Wrestler Mania back at the hotel room and he can’t miss that again

Or Eddie takes you to the party and y’all are getting approach and people like your relationship vibe and yall are getting hit on that you get both get a invitation to go to a “different party” in a hotel room and it goes over your head like “oh actually we aren’t staying long we gotta get back before the new Simpsons episode start”

Or when the band gets interviewed we see the kids in the background and the world gets to see Eddie being the best dad and loving husband. Every 80/90’s musician in the rock/metal scene are single, loves to party, and is reckless so Eddie was a change they weren’t expecting.

Sooo….You’re not gonna be very happy with me. Let’s go through this together and hopefully you wont hate me too much because it does get better.

Yes, Eddie’s peers do experience a little jealousy at the family he has, the constant love surrounding him—but he does succumb to the partying, drugs….and almost a groupie (THIS WILL BE TOUCHED ON MORE IN THE FIC IM PERFECTING, DONT THROW THE TOMATOES). He does his job, rocks out, and sometimes he craves reaping the rewards (drugs and parting and soaking it all in—not the groupies, that’s a related situation but not a part of what he craves) of his success. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, he gets caught up in it. And it eats at him because he also knows his wife and his beautiful kids are also a once in a lifetime opportunity. That’s what kicks his ass back into gear.

It’s a life that you enjoy sometimes, love being on his arm, at his side, watching him glow underneath all those flashing lights. That confident smirk on his face, he belongs. It’s completely his element, what you knew he was always meant to do. And for the most part, you love being his wife, the wife of a Rockstar. How he’s always ravenous for you, the way he handles you when he’s fresh off the stage—be stadium stage or a some big fancy hall stage for an award ceremony—the parties he takes you to, the material things, not having to work your ass off to survive anymore, not having to work at all. You hate how women literally throw themselves at him, constantly expose themselves to him (the amount of flashing is INSANE, you see more titties than you ever did in the girls’ locker room back in high l when you’re tucked under his arm) but he only ever has eyes for you (shhh, we’re not talking about the groupie rn, that will be explained and you will understand).

And sometimes, being the wife of a Rockstar is hard. The tabloids are relentless, he tours the world and you stay with the kids, he’s doing coke with his pals and their gals while you’re washing the dishes halfway across the world. He’s partying after tour nights, you’re reading bedtime stories. You’re the wife of a Rockstar alright, and while he doesn’t have a mistress, sometimes the world acts as one. Sometimes the world gets him more than you do and he forgets that. Sometimes you don’t want to be the wife of a rockstar. You just want to be Eddie’s wife.

He gets there though, he gets to the points you’re talking about. Maybe not all of them, but he doesn’t become that messy playboy the world wants him to be. Still looks like a bad boy, but interviewers always note in articles they write, about the toys lingering around the house. Empty spaces on the walls, tables and shelves that had no doubt held picture frames prior to the journalists’ arrival, he was intent on keeping every precious moment and memory with his family private and away from the vicious prying eyes of the public. It’s interesting for you to read, because the first thought of an outsider’s mind is maybe something along the lines of Eddie not being sentimental or ashamed of the family, when it’s the entire opposite.

He starts ditching parties early to go back home and party with his favorite people before their bedtime (and then party with you all night long), starts having you and the kids closer during his shows again (you used to come to a few when Corroded Coffin made it bring, would bring the kids, until the shows got even bigger somehow, rowdier and fans get invasive). its difficult, especially with having to wrangle Maple—but Eddie doesn’t mind it when she runs onto the stage. if he’s feeling particularly nice, he’ll share her with the crowd for a song—but not much longer than that. He’s stingy with his family, protective, doesn’t need people thinking they can throw their unwanted opinions about his own damn kids out there—he’s assaulted people over it. And that’s not to say he hasn’t flaunted all of you, either. Fame is such a bittersweet accomplishment, he wants to show you all off to the world and sometimes he does, but the world is not kind, so he’s gotta keep you close and away from the cameras. He struggles with the back and forth a lot.

Again, the media is not kind to him, even while watching him be a father. But a couple of years from then, when his kids are older, the media/internet/etc. will pull up the photos/videos of him from the past with his kids, being so tender and playful with them. Loving. And he’ll be properly appreciated by them then. The two of you will have risen to be one of Hollywood’s golden couples, by then too. Heavily romanticized—and they’re not wrong.

It gets messy, gets cleaned up, gets messy, gets cleaned up, stays relatively clean. That’s the late 90s and Y2K, baby 😎

[topguncortez]

[ DISCUSSION ]  for our muses to talk about kinks and figure out their boundaries together with Jake and Shy! Wife, please, they are my favorites

Let's Talk About Sex - Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey HC

warnings: sex, daddy kink, small lactation kink, size kink, virginity, brief mentions of threesomes, voyuerism, watching porn, mentions of sexuality, mutual masturbation, sex in public places, mentions of body hair, quickies, cum kink

note: I know you probably wanted a fic out of this, but the best I could give ya was a headcannon without it being 97000 pages long. I hope you enjoy!:) also I would love to dive more into Shy!Wifey's sexuality and how she navigates it with Jake. So don't be afraid to ask about that!

g's slumber party || opposites attract masterlist

Jake hated the saying "it's always the quiet ones," but in his experience. . . it usually was the quiet ones

When Y/N had met Jake, yes, she was a virgin. It wasn't that she was holding out for her wedding night to swipe her v-card. Sure, she was religious but she wasn't religious in the sense of "Sex before marriage is a sin."

For her, she just never felt comfortable going there or even thinking about going there with the guys she dated before Jake. Actually, for a while, she thought there was something wrong with her. She never got those warm feelings or that "rush of heat" to her core like the books said. Until she met Jake.

It still took Y/N some time to get totally comfortable with Jake. Their wedding night wasn't one straight from the romcoms and fairytales. It was a night of going slow, figuring out what she liked and what felt right. Y/N tried to fight through the pain she was in cause she wanted Jake to have a good time, but he could see her wincing. The night eventually came to a standstill with Jake refusing to go on because Y/N was near tears from the pain.

It also didn't help that Y/N was so in her head about how she looked. Should she have worn something sexier for him? Was her double chin showing? Should she have shaved or gotten waxed? Did Jake mind body hair or was this repulsing him?

The next morning, Jake sat her down and asked her "What do you like in bed?" All Y/N could do was shrug, meekly telling him "I don't know."

So, Jake suggested watching porn. He found a couple of amateur videos that he thought Y/N would like, and they watched them together. Y/N looked at them as though they were sex education videos while Jake was fighting off a stiffy the whole time.

"This? Gets your rocks off?" Y/N asked, looking at him. Jake couldn't help the boyish grin on his face, "Well. . . yeah. What about you? What do you like?" She took his phone from him, searching through the porn site until she found a video she liked. Jake was surprised to see it was two females, half naked and covered in oil.

Their second attempt at having sex together went better than the first. They had been doing some stuff together, mutual masturbation, oral sex, dirty text messages throughout the day, even the simple act of laying next to each other naked, getting comfortable with one another, all seemed to help. Their second attempt went much better than the first.

Ever so slowly, they started experimenting more and more. It started with doing more positions in bed, Y/N wanting to be on top to watch Jake's face as he came. Or her asking him to pull her hair. Or flipping herself over onto her stomach.

The first time "Daddy" slipped out of her lips, they both paused, both equally frightened and turned on. Jake felt his heart in his chest as he was trying to figure out what to do, but it was as if Y/N could read his mind, "Do that again, daddy, please." And who was Jake to deny her???

As if Jake couldn't get anymore possessive over Y/N. It was bad enough that she had his wedding ring on her finger, his last name as her own and the tattoo of his callsign on her ass. . . Jake also had to make sure she was stuffed full of him. He didn't know he could love the sight of her swollen cunt, dripping with cum.

"You like watching it, don't you?" Y/N asked, breathlessly as Jake's green eyes were looking between her legs. He smirked, leaning down and licking her, "Of course I do. . . Cause one of these days. . . I'm gonna get you so full of me, it'll knock you up."

Then, enter Baby Seresin number one, and their sex life totally changes. Not only does Jake develop a breeding kink seeing his wife grow and swell with his child, but his sex drive and Y/N's sex drive is through the roof. Quickies, anywhere and everywhere.

"Do you know how much trouble well get in if Penny finds us?" Y/N pants against his lips one night at the hard deck, "She'll forgive us once we tell her she is an honorary grandmother," Jake tugs down the top of her sundress, her swollen breasts popping out, "Fuck. . . look at you. Getting all ready to have my child. To be able to feed them. . . I love you like this," Y/N quickly slaps her hand over her mouth as Jake's tongue swirls her nipple before pulling it into his mouth.

[katsu28]

hiii request for jamie tartt here🫡 i loved ur recent fic sm!!! could you maybe do the acacia flower or sunflower prompt? in my head i see hiding their relationship bc reader is a teammates sibling, but oopsie someone got heart eyes and started rambling haha

or literally anything else is fine too if this doesn’t strike your fancy lol<3 tysm!!!

hello!! i loved this so much, u are a gem for requesting it <3

acacia: a hidden relationship + sunflower: drunken rambling about their adoration, jamie tartt x kent!reader (no physical descriptors so imagine whatever sibling type u want!), 2k

“Are you sure we can’t tell him about us?” Jamie’s voice from where he was fixing his hair in the mirror pulled you away from your book and you glanced over at him. 

This was a question he posed to you all the time, and every single time, your answer was the same—though getting more creative with the details with every occurance. 

“Do you want my brother to gouge your eyeballs out? Cut off your dick? Possibly murder you?” 

Jamie paled, freezing in place. “Not particularly.” 

“Then no, we can’t tell Roy we’re seeing each other.” You picked up your book again, ready to resume your reading, but Jamie let out a noise resembling that of a kicked puppy’s whine. His shoulders slumped and he trudged over to you, throwing himself down on the bed in front of your crossed legs. 

Setting your book aside for good this time, you watched him make himself comfortable with his head in your lap, cheek pressed against your thigh as he looked up at you with the puppy dog eyes to match his previous whine. 

“I hate all the secrets. I have to lie to him, straight to his scary face, every fuckin’ day. D’you know how stressful that is? How stressed I am?” He huffed. You bumped your knuckles against his chin affectionately.

It wasn’t fair, Jamie having to face Roy and lie everyday when you had to do it a tad less often, but it was a necessary evil. One day, you’d tell your brother, but first you had to figure out how. 

This, among other reasons, were the downsides to being in a secret relationship with Jamie. There were tons of upsides too, no doubt about it. 

You had the privilege of seeing a softer, sweeter side of him that was reserved only for you, but you couldn’t go out in public with him. Nights in were your favorite dates, but sometimes you wanted to go to a fancy restaurant and eat expensive food and share a dessert with your boyfriend without needing to worry about the tabloids having a field day of it all. 

You could already see the headlines if the press ever caught wind of your relationship—AFC Ricmond Star Jamie Tartt Bags Manager Roy Kent’s Sister. They’d stir shit up, claim that Jamie was only with you because your brother was in a position of power over him and who knows what else. 

Most of all, you certainly couldn’t let Roy find out you were seeing one of his players, especially not Jamie fucking Tartt. They were friends now, but he’d always been overly protective of his sisters ever since you were all kids. He’d throw a fit and probably kill Jamie, then you. Well, he probably wouldn’t go that far, but you’d definitely be on his bad side until he got over himself. And you loved your brother to death, but he was a dickhead sometimes. 

“I’m gonna get early wrinkles, love. You don’t want me to have those, do ya?” 

“I think you’d look adorable with wrinkles. Like a cute little old man.” You dotted a kiss to his forehead, attempting to smooth out the crinkle between his eyebrows with your thumb. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It’s a bit funny.” 

“Right, since you obviously don’t appreciate my problems, I’m off.” Jamie heaved himself off the bed, forcing out a rather overexaggerated sigh. You smiled innocently at him and he rolled his eyes, his own soft smile still on his face. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips before heading for the door. “Dunno when I’ll be back but don’t wait up for me, yeah?” 

“Have fun, my love. I’ll just be here, thinking about you with wrinkles.” 

“Still not funny!” 

The Greyhounds were out in full swing tonight. Colin had somehow managed to book an entire pub for a whole night so they could drink and have a good time without being swarmed by the press vying for any morsel of gossip about one of the best up and coming Premier League clubs. Good friends, good food, even better beer—what more could anyone ask for? 

Jamie had been taking full advantage of it. That, paired with the fact that he no longer had to follow that god awful diet that deprived him of his beloved ice cold beverage, had led him to where he was right now, leaning heavily against the bar, drunk off his ass due to some sort of drinking game Jan Maas had insisted on teaching him. 

See, tipsy Jamie was fun. Very generous, would offer to buy a round or two, good for a few funny stories the next day. Absolutely pissed Jamie was a textbook oversharer. He didn’t make much sense, so everyone just mumbled a ‘very cool, mate!’ or something of the sort, made sure he didn’t topple over—those kinds of things. 

Roy was nursing his own beer next to Jamie tonight, half-listening in contained amusement as the Mancunian babbled on and on about someone. Who the fuck it was, Roy had no idea, but it was good entertainment and had soon garnered the attention of the rest of the team. Maybe this could be another one of those funny stories they could joke about in the locker room tomorrow. 

“She don’t look anythin’ like you, thank god. Imagine—imagine that! A lady Roy. Shit’s mad!” Jamie mused, amber beer spilling over the lip of the pint. “Nah, she’s the prettiest and the funniest and the coolest person ever and I love her.” 

“Who the fuck are you talkin ‘bout, bruv?” Isaac asked incredulously, looking just as amused as everyone else.

“Mate, I’m talkin’ ‘bout me girlfriend,” Jamie said very as-a-matter-of-factly, like they should’ve known that. “Duh.” 

“You’ve got a girlfriend? Since fucking when?” 

Jamie counted off on his fingers, scrunching his nose in thought. “Erm…four, five months? Maybe six?” He shook his head quickly, correcting himself. “No, not six. Would’ve done something special for six, wouldn’t I?” 

“First I’m hearing of it. How ‘bout you boys, did you know Jamie had a girlfriend?” Isaac asked, looking around. A chorus of ‘no’s and similar answers sounded amongst the others. Jamie’s brow furrowed. “It’s settled then. Who’s got the heart of the great Jamie Tartt?” 

“Good rhyme, boyo!” Colin chimed in, clapping his best friend on the back. 

Isaac looked proud of himself. “Whoa. I’m a fucking poet and I didn’t even know it.” He accepted another few praises before turning his attention back to Jamie, who looked like he was thinking really long and hard about something. “Okay, back to you. Tell us about her.” 

“I don’t even know where t’start, man,” Jamie sighed happily, resting his chin in his palm. “She’s kind and warm and—and she knows me better than anyone. It’s like…it’s like she’s an angel.” 

It was kind of weird, hearing Jamie be so open about his feelings for another person. He’d always been one to play things close to the vest, so that’s how they knew things with this secret girlfriend had to be serious. 

Sam beamed, happy as ever that his friend had found someone special. “Surely the angel from above has a name? Maybe one of us knows her?”

“Y/N.” 

The room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at Roy, who looked like he was about to start punching dicks. 

“Y/N, like…Roy’s sister, that Y/N?” Sam replied hesitantly, drawing pointed looks from every single one of his teammates. “I’m just confirming! There are other people named Y/N in London, you know.” 

Jamie pointed in his teammate’s general direction, nodding aimlessly. “Yep, her. That’s my girl.” 

Roy stood from his seat without a word, grabbing Jamie under the arm and dragging him towards the door. 

“Hey man, what the fuck are you—” 

“Just fucking shut up, will you?” 

“Okay.” 

You were about to call it quits on finishing your book and turn in for the night when the doorbell rang. When you went to open it, you definitely weren’t expecting to see your brother standing on your doorstep, practically carrying your half asleep boyfriend and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Your prick boyfriend got proper pissed. Where do I put him?” 

So Roy knew. And judging by the way Jamie was swaying on his feet, you guessed that he’d been the one to let the cat out of the bag. 

“Erm, couch is fine. I’ll get him settled later.” You opened the door a little wider to let them in and Roy grunted his acknowledgement, hauling Jamie over to the couch and promptly dumping him onto the cushions.

Jamie didn’t even flinch when his face hit the pillows, instead just letting out a dreamy sort of sigh and smacking his lips together without even opening his eyes. You were the one to roll him over onto his side, nudging the dustbin right near his head before covering him with a blanket. 

“How much did he drink?” You asked, smoothing the walnut mist strands away from his eyes. 

“Too fucking much, that’s how much.” Roy grumbled. He wandered over towards a different area of your flat, not wanting to wake Jamie. “Jan Maas taught him a Dutch drinking game, except that fucker can actually hold his alcohol.” 

You cast a fond glance back at your boyfriend, smiling softly at his peaceful face. “Yeah, this one can’t really drink much anymore. Said it’s because of your training regimen, the no beer thing.” 

“Of fucking course you’d know.” 

“I assume Jamie told you about us.” You said quietly, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of your jumper instead of looking at Roy. Another vague low noise of acknowledgement from him, though it sounded a bit more strained this time. “If it helps you come to terms, Jamie’s been wanting to tell you for ages. I was the one who wanted to keep it under wraps.” 

“Why?” 

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. “‘Cause I knew what you’d think. Knew what you’d have to say about it.” 

“Are you a mindreader?” 

“No.” 

“Then how would you know what I’d think?” 

“Oh come on, Roy, you don’t think I know how you are? You get…dickish. I still remember you scaring off poor Billy Montgomery in year nine!” 

“Billy Montgomery was a fucking wanker, that’s why.” 

“Yeah, I know that now,” You huffed, scowling. Roy raised an expectant brow at you. “You’ve always been outspoken about the people I date. I just—I didn’t want you to be that way with Jamie. I know you’ve had your differences, and I know you’ve made up, but…I dunno, I was just worried about what you’d think of us.” 

“Do you love him?” Roy asked stiffly. There was a tic going in the hard line of his jaw when he forced his gaze to yours, and it almost looked like he was in the middle of shitting a brick. If you hadn’t been so nervous about his reaction, you probably would’ve laughed. 

“I do. A lot, actually. He’s…everything I could’ve asked for. Everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner.” 

“Then it shouldn’t fucking matter what I think.” Roy said. “Jamie makes you happy, and that is the only thing that matters.” 

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You’d been so worried about how you thought your brother was going to react to the news, you never stopped to consider that maybe Jamie wasn’t the only person who’d been working to change for the better. 

“Thank you, Roy.” 

Caught up in your heartfelt sibling talk, neither of you had noticed Jamie had woken up and stumbled over to the two of you until he gathered the two of you into a rather squished hug.

“My two favorite people, the Kent siblings! You guys are the best!” He slurred, nuzzling into the embrace. Roy let out a growl, but he patted Jamie’s back stiffly nonetheless. You had to stifle another laugh at how utterly uncomfortable he looked right now. “Oh fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up—” 

“That’s it, I’m fucking leaving.” Roy shoved Jamie away from him, wiping his hands off on the front of his jacket and heading for the front door. “Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit and tell him he’s still got training tomorrow, I don’t care how shitty he feels!”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[irondad-defensesquad]

My Irondad fic recs!

I thought of doing this because why not? Admittedly, I'm not reading as much fanfiction as I did a couple years ago, but some fics have changed my life entirely. In case I forgot one, I'll add it later!

I would’ve organized this in a bullet list, but Tumblr hates me and invented a character limit for that. So this is going to be long and will be under the cut. Anyway, let’s do this!

Rare and Sweet As Cherry Wine by loubuttons – I've mentioned this one before, but this fic right here was what inspired me to write my own Irondad works. One very particular detail I like about it is how it portrays Maria, Tony's mother. It's not what I usually see in other fics about Tony's childhood, since they tend to make Howard the big bad parent. Of course, this is because I personally related to it, as I don't believe in the "bad parent vs. good parent". I also like that it praises Edwin Jarvis as the one who looked out for Tony the most. It's pretty realistic and a very melancholic character study, IMO. *TW for abuse and neglect*

You're Always Iron Man by madasthesea – a very short fic but I absolutely love the premise. Takes place after the big battle in Iron Man 2, and Tony finds little Peter again. They have a very endearing interaction. The following chapter is also very cute!

Nothing like a fresh cup of humiliation in the morning by madasthesea – Pure fluff! This one is probably a classic in the Irondad fandom. Tony kisses Peter's forehead without second thought. Shenanigans ensue. It's so adorable and funny. If you just want to read fluff without angst, this one is for you.

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by madasthesea - I think I heard about this fic thanks to @/irondadfics here on Tumblr, but I might be wrong since I already knew the Nice work, kid series. Anyway, Peter is believed to be dead, so Tony (and the rest of the Avengers team) is mourning him. In reality, Peter is astral projecting. You know, sort of like how Stephen Strange, in his first movie, was fighting a guy in the other dimension while his body on Earth was struggling to live. That's basically what happens. Strange appears, of course, and saves the day. And I pretty much LOVE the presumed dead trope. I don't know why. Maybe it's the angst of it all. *TW for grief/mourning and temporary character death*

The Reason by doctornineandthreequarters – I think I read this one when I was still writing Oh, take me back to the start. I was looking for fics for inspiration, and I found this one. During the Time Heist in Endgame, Tony remembers the reason he's fighting to bring everyone else back. It's very emotional.

Couch Cuddles by happyaspie – Classic sickfic, but with more fluff than anything. I like rereading it when I feel lonely and touch-starved, especially when I'm also sick like Peter.

You’re So Much Like Me (I’m Sorry) by SpaceCowboysFromMars – Irondad + Miles Morales! Peter is an adult in this, and he freaks out when an injured Miles arrives in his apartment. Tony gives him some wisdom about mentoring and parenting. I don’t usually find Irondad stories featuring Miles (and not necessarily a Spider-Verse crossover), so this was a nice discovery. Peter & Miles & Tony is a very underrated trio IMO. *TW for slight gore*

I'm Glad I Have You by punkybunny – Peter has been having a rough time, dealing with loneliness as Aunt May is not home often, and with bullying at school... until he finally has the chance to spend time with Tony. However, the demons don't disappear completely. Obviously, more Hurt/Comfort, lmao. *TW for nightmare/bad dream*

I Want to Trust You by punkybunny – Actually part of a series that, admittedly, I haven't read all the other stories. But even this one is a very interesting concept on its own. This is a Hydra Peter AU, after Peter has been rescued. He gets sick but given his past in Hydra, he thinks Tony is going to get angry. Peter is proven wrong when Tony helps him get better. The ending is very adorable. I'll see if I can read the rest of the series one day. *TW for past abuse and experimentation*

what you think I've done wrong by ironxprince – I don't often read Biodad stories as you all know, but I was, again, looking for inspiration for You keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I stumbled across this one. Basically Peter, as Tony's biological son, finally meets Howard. It goes as well as you think /sarcasm. *TW for physical abuse*

i, in time, will climb my mountain by ironxprince – This one is heavy. Once again, Peter is Tony's bio son, and he's suicidal. Every time Peter attempts suicide, he buys a new plant. Tony doesn't know this, so he's confused as to why there are so many plants in their house. I love this one, but of course, I try to read it when I’m not having a really bad day. *Once again, TW for suicide attempts*

how do you get that lonely (and nobody knows?) by parkrstark – Yeah... another heavy one. Peter attempts suicide but he saves himself before he reaches the ground. With that, he goes to Tony. This ends happily, don't worry. *TW for suicide attempt*

When You Can't Sleep by Emily_F6 – Pretty much Tony comforting a sleepy Peter, who has just had a nightmare about Thanos. Just Hurt/Comfort and domestic fluff. *TW for mention of death*

i get by (but it's eating me alive) by Livinei – Honestly, I think this is the BEST May's Abusive Boyfriend story I've ever read. For one, none of the characters are oblivious nor dismissive of Peter's feelings. May isn't neglectful and Ned actually tries to encourage Peter to tell someone. I also like that Peter isn't completely helpless. I don't usually see those things in other fics with this trope, sadly. And of course, Protective Tony is my weakness. *TW for emotional and physical abuse*

Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea – Post-Endgame where Tony is alive, and Peter and Tony are both trying to cope, so they rely on each other. Pure Hurt/Comfort.

A Tremendous Thing by ExpectoPatronum – Possibly one of my favorite Irondad stories EVER. Also post-Endgame with Alive Tony (though the author better explains it in the notes, it's supposed to be part of a series, but this story can be read on its own). There are a lot of references to Charlotte's Web if you're familiar with it. Basically, it's Father's Day and Peter is feeling guilty and out of place at Tony's lake house, even though everyone is readily trying to include him. It's absolutely beautiful and painful.

Hug You I Must by spiderwriting (catch_you_later) – Probably one of the first touch-starved Peter fics I've read. I like how it describes touch-starvation as this "itchy" current in your body, something that makes you anxious. Thankfully, Peter gets his hug later on. Plus there are some Star Wars references (the title probably is one, lol). *There's some minor violence here when Peter is fighting off some bad guys, but not the focus of the fic*

When You're There With No One There To Hold, I'll Be The Arms That Reach For You by Squibbles94 – Another touch-starved Peter fic. But I really like the references to Cast Away. Ironically I saw this movie in the same year the author published this fic (dare I say SHORTLY after it was posted). I also had no idea that Cast Away was entirely about isolation. Gosh, the main character's monologue at the end ALWAYS gets to me... anyway, yeah, the peak of the pandemic was awful to me, so reading fics like this one helped tons. It still does.

I am cold by N/A (orphan account) – Peter tries to visit Tony, but he gets lost in a subway tunnel on a freezing day. Eventually we learn why Peter wanted to see Tony, but overall this is mainly domestic fluff. Everything ends well.

Sorry Pedro by PinkEasterEggs – One of the first Irondad fics I read. Peter has a nightmare about Homecoming (mainly Toomes), but he avoids waking Tony for that reason. But thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocols, Peter goes to his mentor. Tony is also super soft here and it makes my heart swoon.

you are enough by diaz_evan – Another post-Endgame fic. Arguably I began reading Irondad fics only after Endgame released. Anyway, this one is short, kinda sad but it ends well. It’s Tony’s birthday and Peter feels very anxious about what to get him as a present. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to prove his love for Tony. *TW for panic attack*

Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark by downeylove – There are a lot of Father’s Day fics for these two, of course, but this one takes the cake for me. It’s simple but very endearing to me. Tony obviously doesn’t have good memories of this day, but Peter changes that for the first time. It’s really cute. Plus, Pepper is here, and I love her. I wish I could read more of her interacting with Peter. *TW for mentions of alcoholism and past child abuse*

5 Times Peter Didn’t Say He Was Struggling… And The One Time He Did by Bladam_Shevine – Again, an old fic I read years ago. I admit I haven’t re-read it in a while, but I remember enjoying it and even saving it to read offline. It’s basically what it says in the title: Peter struggles in many ways and he initially refuses help. Tony is always there to reassure him he can count on him. Bruce is here if you like him! And MJ helps Peter on one of the chapters as well. The chapters might get heavier as they go, but it ends on a hopeful note. *TW for injury, panic attack, suicide attempt (it doesn’t involve Peter), and depression*

The Good Days and the Bad by SoupGirlLovesSoup - Peter has had a bad day, now he's cuddling with Tony. It takes a while before Peter finally tells him what happened. It gets sad, but it's mostly fluff and it ends hopefully. I love re-reading it when I need the comfort. *TW for mention of suicide attempt, depression, and bullying*

Breathe Again by gwenoakley - Post-Endgame where Tony survives. He's recovering in the hospital and Peter finally reunites with him. Before that, though, we can feel the anxiety and trauma Peter feels. Definitely makes me emotional. It's the ending they deserved.

Popsicles and Playgrounds by ironfamjam - I can't believe I forgot to save this one in my bookmarks. I used to re-read this all the time! It's an AU where MIT student Tony meets a kid Peter. Eventually, Tony becomes Peter's babysitter! This is part of a series, which I still have to read fully. It's such a wholesome idea!! <3 *Howard's bad parenting is mostly mentioned*

Well, for now this is it! Again, I might add more fics here. I think I also could make a list of what particular concepts I want to read more in Irondad stories, so maybe you guys could give me your own recs. I might try to resume my habit of reading Irondad fics, because they give me a lot of comfort. Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoy any of the stories I included.

(I'm aware some authors here have their accounts on Tumblr, but I didn't want to annoy anyone by tagging them, so yeah 😅)

EDIT (June 4th, 2024): What Irondad fics I would like to read!

[yeostars]

I Hate You, I Love You.

-kang yeosang<3

○ pairing- yeosang x reader ○ genre- academic rivals to lovers! early relationship scenario, basically a snippet into the times when two rivals get into a romantic relationship after finally confessing their undying love to eo (ahem, they still hate eo too, though) ○ warnings- none? slight 18+ scenes but they don't actually do IT haha ○ synopsis- sooo this one is the epilogue for my rivals to lovers yeo fic (down bad, but at what cost?) . basically this one is a study session turned into a pillow fight turned into an intense makeout session ;) i've tried my best to write this one even better than the actual long fic so i really hope y'all enjoy reading this. likes, reblogs, comments and follows are always immensely appreciated <3

"Huh, to be honest, your room isn't half bad. Really." You admit, peering at every little thing your eyes land upon, in this giant, spacious room.

"If that was meant to be a compliment, thanks." Yeosang snorted, right behind you, watching you take everything in.

This was your very first time visiting your boyfriend's slash academic rival's room. Infact, it was your first time coming to his house itself. Saying that you were nervous was an understatement, but somehow you seemed to be relaxing in yeosang's presence by now.

The fact that no one except the both of you were present in his house right now, also relaxed you quite a lot. Yeosang's parents had gone shopping and his elder sister was hanging out with her friends. Yeosang, being the smartass he is, grabbed this perfect oppurtunity and ideal day to invite you over, to get your assignments done.

Yeah. to get those damn assignments done. nothing else, probably, right...? although you wished you were lying, as you thought about how amazing it would be, to make out with yeosang on his bed.....

It had been roughly a month since the both of you started dating now, and it seemed like neither of you wanted to rush things. But if either you or yeosang made the first move, the latter would passionately reciprocate it.

"I mean it, your room is much more spacious than i imagined it to be. And also, so clean.... bet it isn't normally this clean." You said, chuckling, as your hand gently patted and felt the soft matress bed sheets.

"Well, not gonna lie, i did clean it up cuz you were gonna come over, You should be grateful." He joked, carefully picking up your bag and placed it on one of the extra chairs around his study table.

"Should i touch your feet or something? Geez, thanks for cleaning your room, i guess." You let out, suddenly stopping in your tracks to stare at the mini posters stuck at the wall.

Yeosang noticed you staring at those posters at the wall and stood right besides you. Good thing it wasn't something embarassing- or else he would've torn all those posters than bear all the teasing from you.

"Seriously, yeo? Math symbols, geometry shapes, equations and formulas..... you know what, i am not even surprised, you math freak." You grinned, turning to look him directly in the eye.

"So what? I am working to be the best mathematician of the next century, Gotta make sure to look like one." He replied, sounding quite proud.

"Might as well wear printed t-shirts with mathematical formulas all over it, My anti-math ass could never. I might throw up if i stare at those posters again." You said, giving those posters one last glance.

"You and your dramatic ass, y/n.....well, take a seat, if you're done exploring, and lets get these assignments done." Yeosang murmured, taking hold of his own bag, as he bought it towards his huge study table.

You sat at the chair farthest to the window, where sunrays seemed to be shining beautifully at the ends of the study table. Yeosang sat right besides you, eliminating the third chair and reduced any distance present between the both of you.

You ignored your heart beating loudly in your chest, quietly placed your books and pens on the table, and peered at yeosang doing the same.

"Well then, lets get started? As we promised each other, you're gonna help me if i have any difficulty in maths and I'm gonna do the same for you in science. Hope that offer still stands." You said, not quite maintaining eye contact with him, choosing to stare at those books in front of you instead.

"Hmm, alright. Lets get this done as quickly as possible." Yeosang said, already getting started with his work.

Around 40 minutes passed, the both of you working in peaceful silence, and even if you asked each other about a certain question or concept, the atmosphere between the both of you was still, peaceful. calm. not chaotic- and that's where is started to feel slightly...wrong? This had to be the longest time you've both spent in each other's presence without teasing the hell out of each other or bickering.

You couldn't help but steal quick glances towards yeosang's direction, admiring his concentrated self, how unbelievably hot he looked even when he was literally just, studying. When he furrowed his eyebrows cuz he probably didn't understand something, or when he mindlessly spun his pen as he read content, you wondered how you even managed to have a boyfriend as attractive as him.

You stretched your arms quickly, leaning back toward the chair, stifling a yawn. You were quite tired now, but you still had one topic left. You glanced at yeosang, and he looked quite tired himself, too.

And besides, things felt too boring, between the both of you, right now. You wanted to spice things up a bit, get him to kiss you or something.... but how?

"I'm taking a quick break." You announced, getting up from your chair, heading towards the giant bed, sitting comfortably at the edge.

Yeosang spun his chair to face you, and just blankly stared at you as you scrolled through something on your phone.

"What, tired already?" He asked, having the audacity to ask you this while looking much more exhausted than you.

"You look like you're about to pass out, right now. Take a break along with me." This wasn't a request, it was an order. You wanted both of you to feel fresh and relaxed before you started working on the final topic to finish your assignments.

Yeosang didn't argue further, simply closed his books and joined you, on his bed. He mirrored your position, sitting quite distant from you, but you could still feel his feet brushing yours..

You sat there, feeling extra comfortable because of the giant, soft pillows behind you. Yeosang suddenly grabbed one of those pillows behind you and you glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow and met his gaze, which looked quite mischievous and playful...typical yeosang.

"Ever been in a pillow fight?" Yeosang asked, pulling the pillow close to his chest.

"Umm....no? I might have once, with Jia, though." You replied, registering the fact that he probably asked you out on a pillow fight. you, his girlfriend, into a pillow fight.

at such moments, you realised how yeosang was truly, yeosang. no one could ever be like him..

"Then accept this challenge. Whoever wins gets their favourite snack as a reward." Yeosang snickered, coming closer to you.

"Oh, ITS ON. Y-" You almost screamed, and you didn't even get to finish your sentence as Yeosang approached you and hit his pillow skillfully at your arm. You groaned, gaining your consciousness quickly and attacked him with another pillow, aimed right at his head.

Here you were, the both of you fighting each other in an impromptu pillow fight, laughing, giggling and screaming like little kids. Just when you thought you couldn't fall deeper for yeosang than you already were, you were proved wrong when you met his soft and playful gaze, him smiling at you, the reason for his laughter being you. You wished this moment could last forever..

Your bodies brushed again each other's quite often, but the both of you tried to ignore that fact, too caught up in adrenaline and playfully fighting each other.

With a well-aimed swing, you managed to knock the pillow out of Yeosang's hands, grinning proudly. "Gotcha!"

Before you even knew it, yeosang lunged forward and tackled you gently onto the bed. You both landed in a heap of tangled limbs and pillows, your breath hitching as you realised that you were pinned beneath him onto the bed...

For a moment, everything stilled. The air, filled with laughter and giggles and screams just a minute ago, was now intense, and all that could be heard was your breaths.

You gazed into each other's eyes, your faces mere inches apart, You could feel yeosang's warm breath forming goosebumps on your skin. Every single cell in your body seemed to be aware of your current position, you could feel yeosang's strong arms wrapped against your sides, as if you had no choice to run away,,,

Yeosang's eyes softened, his playful smirk replaced by something more tender. "Y/N...." He trailed off, not bothering to complete his sentence. Just hearing your name from his lips, him being so damn close to you, you could've sworn your heart was going to beat right out of your chest.

Your hand, which had been gripping a pillow, slowly lifted up to touch his shoulders, to touch those strong biceps... that got you thinking just how buff your boyfriend was.

He leaned down, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away, his eyes never leaving yours. But of course, you didn't. Why would you? You were waiting since ages for this to happen..

You lifted your head slightly, closing the distance between you. Your lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and electrifying, a perfect blend of softness and urgency.

Until, it was no longer soft, no longer sweet- just mere urgency, passion and roughness arising, as yeosang's palms reached forward to cup your face and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

You pulled apart just for a second, you asking him hurridely if the door was locked (as much as you loved kissing yeosang, you were not prepared for the utter embarrasment if his parents walked in.) and he just hummed in reply, wasting no time and bought your lips to his again.

The makeout session seemed to be unending, and you weren't complaining in he slightest. The next second you broke the kiss to catch some freaking air, you could feel yeosang's gaze strongly fixated on you, and you couldn't quite comprehend what he was feeling.

"God, you're so hot." He said, in such a low voice, you would have almos missed it if you weren't so damn close to him.

"What?" You asked, blushing, although you had clearly heard him. You took in the sight of his cheeks heating up so furiously that your shyness was now replaced with a proud smirk.

"Say it again. I didn't quite hear you." You said, grinning.

"H-hell no. You didn't hear anything." He said, now tearing his gaze off you, just to be met by your smirk yet again as you grabbed his chin softly to make direct eye contact.

"What, THE kang yeosang getting all giddy and shy because of me? Yeo, if you don't say that again, i WILL tease you about it for the rest of your life-"

"I hate you. Y-you're so hot." He said, and before you could say anything, he quickly sealed his lips with yours, once again. You hummed in pleasure as his thumbs lightly massaged your cheeks, and you felt so damn good in this moment, you wouldn't dare to stop.

That was, unless you had to, to catch your breaths once again.

"Have you kissed someone before, um, me?" You asked, looking quite shy now. He blinked, not believing that this was the kind of question you'd ask him in the middle of a makeout session.

"I did. What about you?" He asked, shrugging, his eyes curious for your answer to the same.

Something familiar settled into your stomach. Bitterness. Jealousy. That would explain how yeosang kissed you so damn well. He was experienced, someone had already felt those wicked, soft, irrestible lips before. And of course, they did. Have you looked at the guy? It would be impossible to believe that he hadn't dated before.

"Y/N?" He asked softly, after noticing that you didn't reply quickly.

"Uhh...well, you're my first kiss." You said, not adding anything further. Yeosang seemed way too shocked at that, smirking soon after.

"Are you being serious? You're telling me, your arch nemesis, your rival, the person you quite literally hate, ME, i'm your first kiss? Insane, if you ask m-" He didn't get to complete his sentence this time, as you bought your lips to his, again. and again. and again- until the both of you were completely satisfied- which you weren't, not just yet. You kissed in perfect sync, perfect harmony- you tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your tongues hungrily meeting each others, the unending bites and teasing making you even more desperate for each other.

You opened your eyes to be met with a pleasant, calm, flushed yeosang. His plush lips were now red and glossy and slightly bruised because of you biting them so many times (he did too, so that was only fair) and he just, looked so fucking pretty, so handsome, so ethereal. and you were just so damn lucky.

"You are my first kiss too, by the way." He confessed, now looking quite serious. You nearly choked on air.

"WHAT?? You lied to me before...?" You asked in disbelief.

"Yea, i just wanted to witness you being jealous. You are so cute, the way you were pouting when i said that, i wanted to bite you." He said, caressing your cheek softly.

"Shut up. I hate you." You let out, pouting yet again and yeosang looked at you with such endearment and adoration, one would have never thought that you used to be at each others throats.

"Nah, you love me." He chuckled, intertwining his fingers with yours. You smiled softly.

"That, maybe i do."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: a brief reprieve.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

He waits until the air has settled. Yet he hasn’t. That thrill buzzes behind his ears as his chest beats erratically. He can’t help but think of their run-in at the store. It wasn’t that bad. She wasn’t afraid of him, just startled in the moment. That’s a good sign.

He mulls over his colliding thoughts. He wants to wait, make sure she is ready, that she can see he only means to take care of her. Then there’s that impatience that tugs at his nape. As he comes out of his hiding spot, just up on the fire escape of the next building, he has a thought. He should just walk up and knock on her door, introduce himself.

Noooooo. No. He’s getting carried away. She’s alone and vulnerable. He doesn’t want her to associate those things with him. He wants to make her feel safe.

So he slows and minds his steps, taking those untrackable paces that make him so deadly. They never hear him coming. He clicks into soldier mode, with a mission in mind. He creeps past her door and bends to swipe up the letter, barely missing a beat as he continues down the alley.

He doesn’t stop until he’s on the next street. He peers up and down, scanning the area and peeking over his shoulder. No one following, no movement from the alley. He turns left and crosses the road, dipping beneath the alcove of an abandoned storefront.

He shakily opens his hand. He’s slightly crumpled the paper. He frowns at the wrinkles and smooths them out. He narrows his eyes and reads the first line. Her writing is loopy and she dots her eyes with exes.

‘Hi stranger,’

He pauses, savouring each letter. Stranger… one day, she’ll know his name. He still wonders how she didn’t recognise him in the shop. Every now and then, people do.

He puts his eyes to the paper once more.

‘I don’t know what else to say but thank you. I don’t know who you are, but I know you are kind. Your gift will help in ways you don’t even know. I hope one day someone does something just as nice for you.

Thank you.’

He lingers on her name. He shifts around the letter to peel off his right glove and runs his thumb over the letters. He leans on the brick and reads the whole letter again. She knows he means well. She sees what he can do, he just needs her to know all he would do for her.

He folds up the letter carefully and tucks it inside his jacket, patting the outside just to make sure it's snug. He slips his phone out and pulls up the app. He flicks through the cameras until he finds the angle he wants.

His heart drops and his soles scuff as he fights to keep from racing out into the street. She’s on the floor, sat against the wall, a litter of groceries all around her. She calmly holds a can, reading the ingredients as if the scene isn’t chaotic.

He waits, teetering between reluctance and desperation. He needs her to get up. She’s all alone and he’s the only one who can see she needs help. Yet he can’t just burst in there and scoop her up and tell her it’ll be okay.

He can only watch helplessly. He hates feeling this way. It takes him back. To when he didn’t have control. To when he was a monster.

Her

You set the can down and steel yourself, closing your eyes as you tilt your head back. Your hip is still ringing. It was just one wrong step, a stupid slip, and it all came crashing down. That’s when your armful went scattering and you with it. The tumble saw you landing on one of the tin cans, its shape more painful than the descent.

You reach to brace the wall and push yourself to one knee. Your hip is on fire as you grunt and plant your foot. You stand and cling to the wall sobbing as your tears break through. You turn and try to take a step, catching yourself with the mostly empty shopping cart, nearly tipping it as you stagger.

You twist and hit the counter with your back. You let go of the cart and get your elbows onto the counter before you slide down again. You lean back and catch your breath, aching so deep you shake. You roll your eyes against the tears and look around.

The apartment is so solemnly lonely. It’s just you. You could languish on the floor and no one would ever know. The government wouldn’t care if you didn’t cash your check, the grocer wouldn’t care if you didn’t pick out discounts, and your neighbours wouldn’t notice past their toddler’s tantrums.

You gather your strength and make yourself stand, ignoring the agony. You can do this. You grab the cart and drag it closer. You bend over and grab the bread, whipping it out onto the counter. You lean heavily on the cupboards as you go about getting it all away. Your final challenge is retrieving the cans from the floor.

At last, it’s done. You roll the cart before you, using it as your only support and fall against the back of the couch. You let the cart go and flip yourself over onto the mattress, curling up across the top as you’re wracked with heaving sobs.

You’re tired of this. The pain, the helplessness, the betrayal of your own body. You’re trapped inside this thing that doesn’t work! You just want to give up. You don’t know why you haven’t. You don’t have anything to keep you from doing just that.

Dr. Grissam looks at you dully over his chart. You sit on the low stool, unable to even take the step up to get on the bed. He sighs and taps his pen on the clipboard.

“I did recommend the cane last time,” he reprimands.

You wince. He did and you couldn’t afford it then, just like you can’t know. And the bill for this visit will be another dent in your monthly stipend. You’re rationing your oatmeal and keeping your bread frozen.

“I know. I… I should’ve listened,” you hang your head. Dr. Grissam is a stern man but he signed off on your ministry papers. Without his little scribble, you’d have nothing.

“It’s a lesson,” he sniffs, “there’s a mobility store. I recommend it. They have a big selection, affordable too.”

Affordable. That’s not within your vocabulary. He jots something down on the little pad and rips the sheet off, holding it out. “More pain meds. Ten tablets. You take them when you need to, not when you want to.”

“Yes, doctor,” your murmur.

He’s always been stingy but you don’t ask for the pills. He gives them but acts like you’re some sort of fiend. You accept the script and get up, clinging to the stool until you get your balance.

“Is it close?” You ask.

“Bus takes you straight to it. Couple blocks down.”

“Oh,” you nod, “thank you, doctor.”

“Make sure you see Charity. It’ll help.”

You utter an empty promise to do so before you leave. You can’t afford to see the physio either. You told him that before but you don’t think he heard you, or wanted to. In his eyes, it’s your own fault you’re like this. You can’t help but wonder if it is.

You won’t use the prescription. You can’t pay the pharmacy fee. You check the address scrawled beneath; you can walk there… slowly. You’ll have to take some breaks but it will be easier when you have a cane. Getting back won’t be as taxing, but you expect, you’ll draw even more stares.

Bucky

She went into the store nearly forty minutes ago. The small depot is nestled between a convenience store and vape shop. She walked all the way there from the plaza of her doctor's office.

He kept pace with her, hanging back when she sat on a bench and rubbed her hip. He still can't shake the image of her on her bed, crying on pain. The days since haven't proven any easier. 

He stares at the marquee. The mobility shop displays scooters and walkers in the window. He can guess why she's there. He can tell it took more than just the physical effort to make herself do so.

He's antsy. He hopes she's okay. She didn't look very happy after her appointment. She even seemed defeated. 

The door opens and closes. He's disappointed. It's not her, only an elderly couple. Despite the let down, he can't help but feel a dimple in his cheek. That could be them one day, a whole life ahead of them.

He checks his watch. He's supposed to meet up with Sam in a couple hours. He can cancel, he isn't exactly in the mood to be hazed. 

When the door opens again, he's transfixed. It's her. She walks steadier with the cane but still uneven. She keeps her free hand on her hip as she appears to test out her new gait, figuring out how best to place the cane.

She grows more confident as she goes. He notices her slow down and peer through the window of the bakery nearby. He keeps his distance, still across the street. He’s noted that too. How she meticulously measures out her food. A can of soup is split across three meals with nothing else. She eats slow when she remembers too.

It’s starting to get to him. So much it makes him itchy. She needs him to take care of her. She can’t do it herself. Not because of her hips or her lack of trying. He can barely do it either. He sleeps on the living room floor in the light of television just to feel a little less alone.

She’s a lot like him. He sees that more and more. As he does, he feels her pain like his own. More than his own.

He can’t keep waiting. If he does, she could get hurt. He can’t bear to keep watching her suffer like this. He can help her. He knows he can. She might not, but he can show her. It’s not the way he wanted to but his hands are tied.

He should go see Sam. He promised. Besides, he needs a favour.

Her

The shadows move just on the other side of your eyelids. You’re groggy as slowly you’re drawn awake by the odd scratching. A breeze flows over your body and you roll onto your side. Your lashes flutter and gasp as you notice the front door. It’s open!

You sit up, panic swelling in your chest. Someone’s in your apartment. You hear them, sifting around in the drawers. You turn and see the silhouette of the intruder, shoulders broad as he’s distracted by your sparse belongings. You reach for the can against the side of the folding frame.

As you swing it to the floor and haul yourself up, the man turns. You cry out as he sees you, stalking forward, his eyes flitting between you and the door. He seems to hesitate as he comes closer and closer. You aren’t fast enough to run.

He stops, frozen, as if he’s afraid of you. You don’t know what to do so you raise the cane and smack his shoulder. 

“Get out!” Your heart hammers wildly. What are you doing? This man could break you in half. “Get-”

He hisses and pushes the cane away as you aim it at him again. He lumbers around you, shielding himself with an arm as he hurries to the door, shoving through the heavy grate. He mutters something you can’t make out. You set your cane straight and limp to the door, eager to close it behind him.

You hear him outside, grunting and groaning. You keep from shutting the door as you see him tangled with another shadow. The man in the hoodie remains faceless as a thick arm wraps around his neck. Another man wrestles him down to his knees as a slat of light limns his square jaw and bright eyes. You gape  through the iron bars of the outer door.

“Lock the door,” he grows as he continues to struggle with the intruder, “now.”

You obey. You recognise the man but you can’t place from where. It doesn’t matter. He can’t be bad if he’s fighting a robber, right? You turn the locks, the lower one broken completely. You strain to watch through the peephole. 

You can’t believe this is happening, that that man broke in and you didn’t even notice. Not until he could have hurt you. Not until it was too late.

[mcufan72]

Hello everyone!

After writer's block and some changes in my life (mostly good ones), I'm finally able to write again. I can't believe that the last lines I wrote for my Loki fics were in July/August 2023. Unbelievable.

Here is my new multi-part fic!

It's a modern AU, I will use MCU characters and facts incorrectly and Loki will be as I want him to be. The Multiverse is open and I do what I want. Those who have read my other stuff know what I mean. So if you don't like it, don't read it. This story will contain morally grey stuff (or not, I don't know. What exactly is morally grey? But nothing too bad happens here or without consent. It's still a love story), fluff, angst and eventually smut…so 18+ only, please!

I also use random names/characters, they have nothing to do with the MCU, they're a product of my fantasy. They are inspired by real-life people and also the plot might be inspired by real-life experiences (not every part of the plot, please keep that in mind). So please don't steal my stuff, use your own experiences and let them inspire you. I also did some research but without a guarantee of completeness and accuracy.

Here is the first chapter of my new fic. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. 💚

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader / 18+

Chapter 1

Preview here

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, and smut (eventually), it's a slow-burn love story.

“I leave."

"Yeah, good. Go home and get some rest. I don't know when I'll be back. Might be late. “

“That's not what I meant.”

“Then explain.”

“I leave the company…and you!”

“It's just a phase, darling. Take a few days off and then everything will be fine again.”

“You really don't get it, do you? It's not a phase.”

“No one screws things up with me! Not even you! ...you have six months.”

3 months later

Damn! Just damn! You were late, like always. You were permanently struggling with keeping places in time and today it wasn't any different. It was pouring rain since you had left your apartment and you were nearly completely drenched from head to toe and of course, you had forgotten your umbrella. The only protection from the rain was the high collar and the hood of your coat. You hurried through the streets of Manhattan, melding into the people who crowded the sidewalks. The city's smells and noises were engulfing you, uncountable different languages and accents were hitting your ears. On every street corner was music, played by street entertainers who tried to grab some money from the people passing by. Car horns were honking, and brakes were squeaking, the sirens of ambulances or police cars drowning out any other sounds. The whole city was buzzing and glowing, a permanent noise filling ears and streets, echoing between amazing skyscrapers. But you loved it, this was your hometown and you have been living here for five years now. You wouldn't stay here forever, surely not, but for now you would stay.

On your way to your appointment this afternoon you accidentally bumped into someone because you held your head down to keep the rain away from your face. “Hey, watch it, girl!” a manly voice scolded you. You apologized with a hasty: “Sorry”, and continued your way unimpressed. Somehow you managed to cruise fluently through the masses of people and cars and reached the building you wanted to go to right in time. You passed the doorman, who gave you a friendly smile, and the security men in their black suits in the reception area, who greeted you with a short nod. They looked much too good for your liking but you couldn't deny your attraction to tall men with broad shoulders in black suits. You had a soft spot for this kind of man. The rainwater that was dripping from your coat was wetting the floor of the entrance hall and with an apologetic shoulder shrug and a heartwarming smile on your face towards the security men, you headed for the lift.

*****************

How much Loki hated the weather today. Fortunately, he had his umbrella with him so he was protected from heaven's water. The pouring rain, the crowded sidewalks and streets, the deafening noise. He was living here in New York for over twelve years now but it seemed to some things he would never get used to. He surely wouldn't stay here forever but for now, he still had to. Normally he wouldn't go out on the streets when it was raining like this. No one would go out voluntarily in such weather. But he got a call from a negotiating partner, who asked him to meet him at a café in the early afternoon to inform him about a few details. And some conversations were better made personally than by phone. The meeting wasn't a long one and his conversation partner Mr.Miller had already left but Loki was still sitting in the café, sipping on his espresso. “Damn it!”, he murmured under his breath, annoyed about what Mr. Miller had asked of him.

Mr. Miller was an extremely old-fashioned, elderly man and he told Loki for his next event, a business dinner, he would like to see him with a female companion. Every other guest would bring their significant others too, there wouldn't be just the dinner, there would also be some dancing afterwards and how sad it would be if he were there alone.

“Please, bring your significant other, too. I don't accept a no!” Mr. Miller insisted.

Loki knew exactly when it was better to not discuss a negotiation partner's wishes and so he agreed. Sometimes you have to make concessions if you want something to be successful. Now a solution had to be found. Loki didn't have any female friend he could take with him on such a date. It must be someone trustworthy, someone who could be silent as a grave, someone who could keep secrets. In the best case, someone who did it professionally. He would never ask any of his former affairs, not to talk about that his last affair was some time ago. He pulled out his mobile phone and did some research. Over the years he'd learned to appreciate his phone as a daily companion. Using apps on your mobile phone made your life easier and finding a solution for nearly every problem was easier with it as well.

Shortly after starting scrolling through several websites, he found it. The solution to his problem ‘how to attend a date with a female companion’: an escort agency. Professionally escorted by a well-educated woman, intelligent, sophisticated and with perfect manners, professionally obliged to keep silent. That was it, the ultimate solution to his problem. Of course, he had to meet the woman he wanted to book for that upcoming event, first. He had to ensure that she was the right one and if she was suitable for such an event. He had no other choice so he gave it a try. He called the agency he had chosen and described what he wanted and what was required in every detail to the polite and friendly lady he was talking to. It sounded like she was smiling on the other end of the phone and it gave him the good feeling of having made the right decision.

“Okay, Sir. I'm pretty sure I already have the right lady for you. Have you heard of the ‘Vivian's Velvet’ nightclub?”

“Yes, I did."

“Fine. Then you'll meet her there at the bar at 8 pm sharp. She'll be waiting there for you.”

“How will I recognise her? I mean…”

“She'll know who you are. Please send me a photo of you and then I can forward the image to her. Please don't get me wrong, Sir but we handle it this way because we want to guarantee our ladies a way out in case they want to refuse a meeting for whatever reason and at any time. Even if they are already at the nightclub. It's for the safety of our ladies. I hope you understand.”

“I do. It's what your ladies deserve and I respect that.”

“I'm glad to hear that, Sir. Thank you for understanding. Would you please give me your name so our lady can address you correctly?”

Loki hesitated for a second. In his business sometimes it was advantageous to use an alias and he would hold on to this tradition here.

“My name is Luke Larsson.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Larsson. If you have any questions or if the lady I've chosen for you is not for your liking, please don't hesitate and let me know. I'll look for a new lady for you then. We aim to satisfy you completely at any time. And please don't forget to send me your photo, Mr. Larsson.”

“I'll send it immediately.”

“Of course, Mr. Larsson and I wish you an enjoyable evening. Thank you for choosing and calling us. Goodbye, Sir.”

“Goodbye, Ma'am and thank you for your excellent service.”

“You're welcome” and with that, the call ended.

He did what was required of him and he sent the agency a photo of himself. To book a lady at an escort agency was an expensive matter but money was no object. He had called the best escort agency in the city and only the best was what he needed.

He paid his bill and left the café. The streets were still crowded, rain was still flooding the streets and slightly ruining his leather shoes and his slacks. On his way back home a hood-wearing person with a lowered head, drenching wet from the rain, bumped into him. Why couldn't people watch their way, he thought angrily.

“Hey, watch it, girl!“ he scolded. He wasn't sure if it was a woman, he just assumed it. He barely heard the apology of the person and he immediately regretted his harsh words. He turned around to apologize as well. But the person who ran into him had almost completely disappeared in the crowd. He could just catch a short glimpse of the shoes the person was wearing. ‘Nice colour’, he thought and disappeared into the crowd himself. In a few hours, he would meet the escort lady who probably would accompany him to his next business dinner.

***************

With a ping, the lift's door opened on the 25th floor where the agency had its office. The word REA was written in large, finely curved golden letters on the big white, opaque glass door, right above the golden door knob. REA was the acronym for Rhea's Escort Agency and you had to ring a doorbell to get in. The interior was simple but very elegant, bright and inviting at the same time. Smooth jazz music played in the background and created a comfortable atmosphere. A large white leather couch was invitingly positioned close to the floor-to-ceiling windows, framed by exotic green plants and a coffee table. Behind the front desk sat Rhea, the owner of the agency, on the phone, talking to one of the other escorts. She beckoned you with her hand getting over to her. After you approached her desk, she opened her mouth with a soundless dismay when she saw you in your dripping wet state. You could just smile at her with a shoulder shrug. You took off your drenched coat and hung it on the coat rack. Shortly after, she ended the call and rounded her desk to hug you.

“Jeez, girl…look at you. What happened , dear? Did you take a swim and forgot your towel?”

“Kind of.” you answered and laughed.

“Sit down, lovely. You must be freezing. I'll get you a towel and a hot drink. Some Tea?”

“Yes, I'd fancy a cuppa“, you said with a sigh of relief and you were glad to drink something warm now and to dry the front part of your hair with a towel.

“Here, darling “, Rhea said when she came back from the restroom and kitchenette which were both located at the back of the office, invisible to clients.

“That's much needed now, thanks, Rhea. You're my saviour.“ you answered with a thankful smile and took a sip of your tea before you began to dry your hair. You immediately felt much better. Rhea sat down again in her chair opposite you and opened the appointment calendar on her laptop.

“I'm glad that you made it to the office, y/n. The weather is really horrible today but I needed to see you personally.”

“Did something happen? Did a client complain? “ you asked concernedly. You hoped not, you needed this job and you always gave your best.

“No no, don't worry, darling. Everything is fine and that's what I wanted to tell you. Every client you have escorted so far has been happy and satisfied. You're booked up for this week except for the weekend, as you wished. So based on your successful dating and our clients’ satisfaction, I can offer you a higher hourly rate.”

“Oh, really? Oh thank you so much, Rhea, that really means a lot to me. I need every dollar I can earn.” You meant it, it was the undeniable truth.

“I know, dear and you know you could increase your income further by being booked for the weekends as well.” Rhea reminded you.

“Yeah, I know but I need the weekends for personal matters. Those are important too, I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. Your personal matters are surely important and I know it's none of my business. But please let me know whenever I can do something for you, okay?” she said softly.

“No one can help me, I'm afraid. But thank you for your kind offer, I appreciate it,” you replied, well aware regardless of how much you'd work, even if you worked 24/7 you still wouldn't earn enough money to solve your problems. But you had to try and that was what kept you going.

“Okay…so…are you spontaneous, dear?” Rhea asked you while looking for her work mobile phone on her desk.

“Ahmm…yes”, you answered hesitantly.

“Good, because I got a request 30 minutes ago and already made an appointment …and based on the requirements of our potential new client I think you perfectly fit him.”

“Okay, where will I meet him and when?”

“At 8 pm sharp at ‘Vivian's Velvet’. Walker will drive you like always. It is more a casual meeting with our client to get to know each other so please dress appropriately but not too chic. Classy will do…a black cocktail dress would be fine.”

“Yeah, no problem. How does he look like and what's his name?”

“Waaaiiit…ah now…sent you a photo “, Rhea explained and a second later your phone vibrated with an incoming message.

“He's eye candy, a jackpot, a real cherry on top, the icing on the cake…and his voice…he could read the phone book to me. But the most important thing, he sounded nice. Maybe a bit arrogant but nice.” Rhea gushed.

“A jackpot you say? Let me see…” and with these words on your lips, you opened the file. You nearly dropped your phone. Black mid-length curly hair, a beautiful blade of a nose, a chiselled jaw, prominent cheekbones and a mouth you just wanted to kiss. But the most impressive were his piercing blue eyes which seemed to look deep into your soul.

“Wow” was the only thing you were able to say.

“I told you” Rhea laughed, fully getting your reaction towards the beauty of this man. “His name is Luke Larsson. I'm sure you won't miss him.”

“Absolutely not. How could someone miss this handsome man? Luke Larsson…is he Norwegian? “

“I don't know…his accent sounded more British. So you're willing to meet him? “

“Oh yes, I'm looking forward to it. I'll be at ‘Vivian's' at 7.30 pm so I can wait for him there.” you confirmed.

“Fine, dear. He booked you for two hours. When I get the drinks bill from the bar, your hourly rate and your share of the drinks will be transferred to your bank account…as usual. Enjoy the evening, dear. And tell me how it went, okay?” Rhea asked you.

“Of course, I'll let you know.”

After this enjoyable talk, you headed back home quickly. You had less than two hours left to get prepared for the meeting with Mr. Luke Larsson.

In less than 20 minutes Walker would arrive at your apartment to drive you to ‘Vivian's Velvet ‘. Walker was your chauffeur and was responsible for driving you safely to a dating location and back home again afterwards. In case you would spend intimate hours with a client, he would wait in front of the hotel. For your safety and to drive you home after the intimate encounter. Walker was 56 years old, a rock of a man with a buzz cut and a beard. He was an imposing figure, always dressed in a formal suit. But he had a heart of gold and you always felt safe when he was around. Knowing he was always close by when you had an appointment with a man, made you feel even safer. You knew he had a soft spot for you and he would always be there for you, no matter what. Somehow you were like a daughter to him but if you were his daughter he would never allow you to work as an escort.

You were almost ready. You were wearing a simple but elegant black, midi cocktail dress with sleeves in black lace and black high heels. With your hair parted in the middle and pulled back into a sleek tight bun, which sat deep in your neck, you created an illusion of long straight hair. You grabbed your purse from the wardrobe and after a final inspection of your appearance in your large mirror, you left your apartment.

“Good evening, y/n. You look wonderful tonight “. Walker was waiting for you in front of your house and opened the door of the black limousine with tinted windows for you and you let yourself slide into the backseat of the car.

“Thank you, Walker and good evening.“ you replied with a smile on your lips.

Walker closed the door, entered the driver's seat and drove you to ‘Vivian's Velvet’. It was one of the most exclusive and most expensive nightclubs in Manhattan with a luxurious interior in black and purple.

It was close to 8 pm and you were waiting for your date. You were excited about how he would be if he really looked that good and if you would fit his expectations. You ordered a glass of champagne to calm down your nerves a little bit but it would be your only drink tonight. As always, because you must remain in control of your senses. It was a golden rule. The men you dated were supposed to drink alcohol, lots of it, not you. It brought additional money to the hourly rate of an escort. The more they drank the more you got. The only thing that brought the most additional money was having sex with them. But it wasn't a must and you weren't interested, not in the slightest. But the day might come when you had no other choice and maybe one day you would feel a carnal desire again that needed to be satisfied. But you wouldn't do it with everyone. It had to be a special man with a special aura and he must give you kind of a feeling that you were safe with him.

A few minutes later, at 8 pm sharp, you felt someone standing behind and then next to you. A hint of a delicious scent hit your nostrils and a sizzling energy filled the air, making your skin tingle.

***********

When Loki entered the nightclub, there were already four women sitting at the bar, their backs turned towards him. Two of them were in the company of a man, two were sitting there alone so one of them was supposed to be his date, he assumed. Because he didn't know what the woman he had booked looked like, he went over to the bar and ordered a drink, the most expensive Scottish whisky the club had to offer. Next to him to his right side sat a woman on a stool, dressed in an elegant black cocktail dress and black high heels, her hair in a tight hair bun. For now, she ignored him and he wasn't sure if she was his date or not. She looked stunning as far as he could see it. He didn't want to stare at her. But he hoped she was the woman he had an appointment with. She was very lovely to look at. In the corner of his eyes, he saw her sipping at her glass of champagne.

“Good evening, Mr.Larsson. Nice to meet you,” you addressed him with a calm, velvety voice and smiled at him.

“Good evening, Miss… I'm sorry but I don't know your name yet,” he answered softly but dryly.

“How would you like to call me, Mr. Larsson?” You asked him mischievously, a smile curving your lips.

“I don't think I am in the position to give you a name.”

“You're very polite and well-mannered, aren't you?”

You had difficulties maintaining your facade. He looked extremely good in that photo but in reality, this man was beyond beautiful. Inky black hair you wanted to rake your fingers through, broad shoulders, lean muscles, slender waist and endless long legs. All of this gorgeousness was wrapped in an exquisite black suit and a crisp white shirt, the top three buttons undone. You could see a hint of his chest hair which peaked out of the V of his shirt. You felt your mouth watering. He was devastatingly sexy. Now that he was reassured that you were his date he moved a little closer to you. His smell was enchanting. An indescribable mixture of fresh cotton, sandalwood, orange blossom and something spicy you weren't able to specify.

The way he leaned against the bar, his big veiny hand with long, perfectly manicured fingers holding the whisky tumbler, his other hand in his trouser pocket, had something indecent about it. You wanted to rip his shirt open and watch the buttons scatter down to the floor. You should better stop salivating over him and begin entertaining him. That was your job and he was the client you had to convince of you because you wanted him to book your service. You had to focus on your job.

“What kind of escort service do you need from me? How can I be of help?”, you asked him kindly.

He took a sip of his whisky and you of your champagne before he gave you an answer, making eye contact with you and holding your gaze. It made you inwardly shiver.

“I need a companion who escorts me regularly to functions. I'm not interested in flirting with you. I need someone I can have an actual conversation with. Nothing annoys me more than some people and their boring talk. It also should be someone who is discreet and can keep secrets. Someone who doesn't want more afterwards,” he explained, his voice dark and raspy.

“Even if you would want more afterwards I won't give it to you. I'm an escort, not a luxury call girl. I just offer you simple accompaniment, nothing more and nothing less,” you stated kindly but firmly. Good-looking or not, you would never give him the chance to get between your legs.

“I'm well aware of that, Miss”, he replied dryly. “You're an escort lady and this is what I want and what I need. And don't worry, I don't believe in love or anything related to it!”

Loki took a sip of his whisky, his gaze still fixed on you. How pretty you were. Your big bright eyes, your cute nose and your rosy lips were just perfect. Your body was perfectly hugged by your black cocktail dress and your legs with those beautiful high heels at your feet were tempting and he suddenly thought about how good it must feel if they were wrapped around his waist. Loki quickly pushed that thought aside. He wasn't here to live out his lust with you. Also, his past was dark and blood-drenched. And you definitely deserved a better man than him. Regardless of his indecent thoughts, he liked your attitude and your behaviour. A little bit of sassiness, a lot of passion and somewhere hidden deep inside of you, vulnerability and a kind of sadness. Now that he has gotten to know you he wondered how and why you had ended up in the escort agency. You didn't seem to belong there.

“Me neither, Mr. Larsson! I'm glad we see it the same way. I've sworn off men entirely. I'm not interested in a love affair with you.”

“Well, I guess we got a deal, then.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Larsson, we got a deal”.

You smiled at him and you took another sip of your champagne. He gave you clearly and precisely all the information you needed to know so you could get an idea of the business dinner he wanted you to escort him to and you agreed with the conditions. Time flew by so quickly and before you even knew it your appointment with him was over.

“So we'll meet next week? “ Loki asked you.

“Of course, Mr Larsson. Call the agency and make the appointment. It was a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad that I could satisfy you and I'm pleased that I meet your expectations “. You smiled brightly at him. You were still captivated by his incredible aura.

“The pleasure is all mine. But there's one last thing…” You looked quizzically at him.

“I still don't know your name. What should I call you? “

“Sugar. You can call me Sugar.”

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃

Taglist: (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lokisprettygirl @fictive-sl0th @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fandxmslxt69 @chantsdemarins @justjoanne242 @lovingchoices14 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @lokixryss @anukulee @wheredafandomat

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.9

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which anakin makes the mistake of not listening to his manager’s words and breaks his promise to both himself and to you, while you finally reach your breaking point with everything.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.2k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Dance with me,” Liz whined as she tried to pull Aankin away from the bar he was leaning against. When he just shook his head, she rolled her eyes and held up her empty drink, signaling to the bartender for another. “Don’t be so boring, Anakin, we’re here to have fun.”

Anakin huffed and pushed his own drink aside. He was really getting sick of going out with Liz every night, but he felt like he didn’t have much of a choice as she threatened to go without him and insinuated that she was planning to drink hard and do drugs and he knew that if something were to happen to her, he would feel awful and partly responsible. 

“This isn’t very fun to me anymore, Liz,” he mumbled as she finished his drink, making him roll his eyes as he pulled out his wallet and paid for the two drinks he ordered. 

“Oh, come on, rockstar,” she scoffed. “You’re young, you’re hot, this is what you’re supposed to do. Let go of all the worries and stress and just live in the moment. What’s holding you back?”

“The fear of disappointing my manager and friends more than I already have,” he answered and she rolled her eyes again as she grabbed her new drink. 

“The guys are busy with their own lives,” she brushed off his words and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, covering up your writing as she did so. “And as for your manager, she’s too stuck up her own ass to be worried about what you’re doing.”

That was a lie if he ever heard once since Helena just rightfully called him out on his bullshit a few days ago, but he was too exhausted to argue with the drunk photographer. “Don’t talk about her like that,” he still defended her as he tugged his wrist free, pulling out his phone afterwards and checking the time. 

1:03 AM.

God, what is he doing here?

“So defensive,” she teased and took multiple sips of the drink as if that wasn’t the fifth one she’s had during the two hours they’ve been here. “I’m just joking, relax, Ani.”

The name sobers him up pretty quickly, even though he wasn’t even tipsy to begin with. “Don’t call me that,” he says sternly, making Liz’s smile drop as she stares up at him. “Do not call me that, okay?”

You were the only person that was allowed to call him that. You always have been and you always will be. 

He hated that nickname for years until he met you and then fell in love with the way it sounded coming from you. You didn’t tease him about it, weren’t at all condescending or poking fun at him whenever you said it. It was simply the nickname you had given him, and you were the only person he liked hearing say it. 

Even Vinny knew better than to call him Ani, and that’s saying something. 

Liz’s stare turned into a hard glare as she stood up from the stool beside his. “Okay,” she said in a monotone voice. “You know, maybe you should go back to the bus if you’re going to be miserable all night. You’re ruining the fun, Anakin.”

He looked up at her for a few seconds before huffing and standing as well. “Fine,” he said back. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

As he made his way to the exit, his brain tried to go back to the first night he went to a bar and when exactly it became a habit. A bad habit that would probably end with him having severely bad health problems if he were to continue down this path. 

Helena was right, he had been spending too much time getting drunk at all these unfamiliar bars and clubs and he definitely has been spending way too much time with Liz, who was clearly a bad influence on him. 

Really, what business did he have getting drunk with the twenty seven year old tour photographer when he was barely twenty two?

His head was killing him from all the loud rap music he’s listened to at all the bars, and even more from the live music he was performing multiple nights a week on different stages. 

His sleep schedule was non-existent and the circles under his eyes were getting more prominent by the day. He had lost at least fifteen pounds since he would rather drink than eat after every show. 

He was becoming the stereotypical rockstar, and that was something he never wanted to do. 

-

It was Tuesday now and Evan was still being cold towards you.

While you weren’t sure what you did wrong, you still wanted to make up for it somehow. But, as Kenneth was going over this week’s assignment, he held up the papers you submitted to him last week and stood from his chair. “Like the following assignment, this week’s is about something personal. I want to read about your proudest moments, your most embarrassing moments, a moment you felt lost, and I want to read about it in vivid detail. I want to feel like I’m experiencing it right along with you,” he looked over at you and you felt a sense of dread fill your body. “Miss Y/l/n did  a great job on the previous task. You should be looking out for this one.” 

He nodded at you, and Evan, who was sitting silently beside you, stood up with a huff and left the room as soon as Kenneth excused the class. A few other students gave you smiles and pats as they walked by and left as well, and you bit down on your lip as you debated on whether or not you were going to go through with calling out your instructor for supposedly favoring you. 

Evan said he has a soft spot for you, and you could see why he would think that since the praises you have been getting have been pretty excessive in comparison to the other people in the class, but you didn’t feel any more special than the rest of the students around you. 

Clearing your throat, you put your books and laptop in your bag before standing up and walking over to his desk. “Kenneth, can I talk to you for a second?” You ask, feeling a hell of a lot less confident than you sounded. 

“Of course, Miss Y/l/n,” he said back, pausing his task of cleaning up his desk to give you his full attention. He was so nice, you wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk away before you possibly messed things up with him, but you stood your ground. “What’s up?”

You swallow harshly and shift uncomfortably as you try to think of what to say. “I….appreciate all of the boosts of confidence, but I think….I think it’s happening a bit too often,” you start and watch as Kenneth’s brows raise. Before you could go back on your words, you quickly add, “I don’t know why you seem to favor me over the rest of the class, but I think you’re being a bit unfair when you should be treating us equally. I’m no better than anyone else here, and I think you know that, so I’m not sure why you’re so…sure that I’m doing so great when everyone is doing just as well as I am. It’s a bit unprofessional.”

You shut up after that and hold back your urge to run out of the room and never look back. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and you were a bit out of breath as you grip the strap of your bag tightly. 

Kenneth’s brows drop and his face relaxes as an unreadable expression takes over his features. “Is that so?” He asked lowly and you felt sick. More dread fills your body as you try to think of something to say that would lighten the mood, but you feared you had already pushed it way past the point of no return. 

Evan convinced you that Kenneth was being unfair with you, so you felt obligated to call him out on it instead of ignoring - something you were deeply regretting as he leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. 

“That piece you did on your boyfriend, Anakin, was it? The rockstar?” He asked as he reached for a framed picture on his desk. He turned the picture around so you could clearly see it, and it was of a woman who looked to be on a stage, a guitar in her hands and a microphone in front of her. “This is my wife.” He informed you and you felt your heart drop a bit. 

“Your….” You couldn’t finish your sentence as he nodded and set the picture down, his wife still in perfect view as he turned back to face you. Why had you never noticed that?  

“Yes, my wife. She’s going into her fourth month of touring in a few days, and when I read your piece about your boyfriend, I related to it more than I have related to anything in quite some time,” he said and you felt your face heat up even more. “I know how tough it is to be with someone who is constantly in the spotlight, and who sometimes steals that spotlight from you, even if unintentionally. My wife, Marissa, she’s amazing; one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, but she’s got this whole separate life from me. I often feel disconnected from her, despite us being married for nearly fifteen years.”

You were left a bit speechless as you stared down at the picture. A feeling of nausea washed over you and you bring a hand up and place it over your stomach as you hold back a noise of pure embarrassment. “I….oh,”

Kenneth gives you a forced smile as he moves the picture from your view completely. “Yeah, oh,” he mumbled. “I felt for you, Miss Y/l/n. I didn’t pity you or favor you, I just knew what you were going through since I have gone through it more than once, too, and wanted to assure you that you are just as talented as your boyfriend supposedly is - like how I wish someone assured me all those years ago. I didn’t want you to think you were always coming in second when compared to your partner.” 

You wanted to cry as he stood up and grabbed his jacket. How the fuck did you read that so wrong? 

“Maybe I was being unfair to the rest of my students, and if that’s the case then I will do better,” he stated as he packed up his bag. “But I never meant for you to think that I’m favoring you or that you’re the best in the class. You’re an amazing writer, Miss Y/l/n, and I think you will do amazing things in your future, but I will gladly keep my thoughts to myself if that’s the way they come across.”

You stare down at the floor as you fight off tears. “I’m so sorry, I just, I thought-” you cut yourself off as you hold back a sob. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Kenneth sighed as he placed his bag onto his shoulder. “Well, maybe you can use this feeling of embarrassment for this week’s assignment,” he offered and walked around you, leaving you to follow after him as he made his way to the door. “Have a good night, Miss Y/l/n.” 

He locked the classroom door then took off down the hall. You cover your mouth as you pretty much sprint in the opposite direction, pushing open the exit doors before grabbing your phone and calling Anakin. 

It rang for a few beats and you were about to hang up and call him again when it finally connected. “Hey, baby,” he greeted in a tired tone and your heart ached even more. 

“Ani,” you cried, walking across campus as quickly as you could since you didn’t want anyone to see you like this. “I messed up, Ani. I fucked up. Oh, my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Slow down, Y/n,” he said in a much more alert voice. “What’s wrong, pretty girl? Why are you crying?”

You felt like crying harder at the fact that this was the most concerned he’s sounded about you in weeks. “I fucked up,” you barely manage to get out.

“Fucked up what?”

“Everything,” you cry as you fumble around in your bag for your keys. “Evan still won’t talk to me, and I accused Kenneth of favoring me after class today when he wasn’t trying to do that at all, and I- I’m so embarrassed, Anakin. I feel so terrible.”

Anakin sighed and the sound made you let out a quiet sob. “Baby….I’m sure you didn’t fuck things up, princess. Just give it a day or two-”

“No, Ani, I completely messed things up,” you cut him off as you struggled to unlock your dorm’s door. “I accused him of something he wasn’t even doing when he was just trying to show that I don’t come in second when it comes to you and how-”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He cuts you off this time and you pause your attempts on the door. 

“What?” 

Anakin was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “What does that mean? You coming in second to me?”

You try to control your breathing and focus your attention on the door again. “Nothing, it means nothing, Anakin. He was just trying to make sure I know that you and I are equal and that we’re both-”

“What, and you didn’t know that before?” He cut you off again and you could feel your embarrassment turn into anger. 

“Of course I knew that before, Ani, I just,” you trailed off as you thought back to all the times you’ve called him for comfort or reassurance since he left London and how he hadn’t provided it whatsoever. “You know, Anakin, I called you because I needed to feel the comfort I always feel around you, but you haven’t given me that in weeks.”

He scoffs and you feel your anger rise a bit at the sound. “Sorry I haven’t been able to comfort you when I’m thousands of miles away,” he sarcastically replied and you furrow your brows as you push open the door to your room. “I’ll try harder next time.”

You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down, but it really didn’t help much as you threw your bag onto your bed. “See, there you go again. It’s like I can’t say anything to you without having you get pissed off at me or give me some sarcastic reply,” you say and hear him laugh on the other line, though it sounded humorless. “I need you, Anakin, I need you to be there for me even if you’re not right next to me.”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same to you,” he muttered and you just about lost it.

“Fuck, Anakin, I’m sorry I’m not with you on tour right now, but keep in mind that I was with you every single night of the last one. I basically gave up my second year of college so I could be there with you and so we weren’t apart for months at a time,” your voice raised with every passing second, but you were so pent up, you didn’t have much control over yourself right now. “And you keep saying that you’re proud of me but you’re not showing it at all. You said on the very first day of me submitting the application for this program that you knew I’d do well because I’m so smart and talented, but you’ve only cared about yourself from the second I started it.”

Anakin was silent after that and it only irked you even more. 

You pull your jacket off with a huff and throw it onto your bed as well. “You’ve been acting so selfish lately and I pushed it aside because I knew how stressed you’ve been and how caught up you probably were at being back on tour, but I can’t have you acting nice towards me one minute then like a dick the next,” you vent and angrily wipe your eyes that were still producing tear after tear. “It’s not fair.” 

You cry silently after that and listen to the quiet breaths from the other end of the line. “Y/n,” he trailed off and you only cried harder. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not okay!” You sobbed and pace around your room. “For five years I’ve been your number one supporter for everything, and you say you’re mine but I feel like every time I have something exciting to tell you, you make me feel like an idiot for getting excited about it in the first place. I just….I can’t.”

“Y/n,” he tried again but you just shook your head. 

“I can’t,” you mumble. “I called you because I needed you, Anakin, but clearly that was a mistake since my problems aren’t important to you anymore.”

He sounded a bit desperate as he said, “Of course they’re important to me,”

“Yeah, well, you’ve done a bang up job at showing it,” you nearly whisper. “I have to figure out if I’m going to drop out or not, so you can go back to doing whatever it is that you do nowadays. Call me later if you have time to.”

Then you hung up and threw your phone onto the carpet next to your desk before falling onto your bed and crying for God knows how long. 

-

To say Anakin is having a bad day would be an understatement.

He and the guys had just finished being scolded by Helena about the lack of effort they’ve been putting into the tour lately and the sudden pause on getting new music out, and he really didn’t blame her for reaching her boiling point. 

Then you called him in tears and sent his heart that was already running on adrenaline into overdrive and he managed to make your own bad day even worse, and now he felt like the most pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. 

A few weeks ago he felt like he was on top of the world, and now he felt like he had hit rock bottom and didn’t deserve to have any of the things he currently has.

So, when Liz texted him the address to a local club in Berlin, he regretfully agreed to go. 

He was being a total bore again as he sat at the bar and went on about how he felt fucking awful about his phone call with you, and he knew this. Still, he didn’t try to lighten the mood in any way. 

Anakin was three drinks in when Liz, who he was sure had long since grown sick of his bitching, revealed the plastic bag of small, white pills and offered him one. He rejected it and ordered another drink, but an hour passed and he still wasn’t feeling the numbing effect alcohol usually had on him by now. 

“I think they water down the drinks here,” he observed as he pushed away the glass that had more ice cubes than liquid in it. 

Liz laughed as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Of course they do,” she said. “They gotta make money somehow. The more watered down the drinks are, the more you’ll have to spend to actually get drunk.”

Anakin scoffed, “Highway robbery,”

“You’re telling me,” she agreed and placed one of the pills on her tongue. “You’ll spend a fortune here, Anakin. It’ll take a lot more than four drinks to get you drunk.”

He sat up straight and looked over at her. “What do you suggest I do? Go back to the bus and give up on trying?”

She raised a brow, her red lips turning upwards as she pulled out the bag again. “You could always try other methods,” 

Anakin eyed the bag with a tired gaze. He was tipsy and has never in his life done drugs, but he’s heard that they can make you feel like you’re on cloud 9, but only for a little bit. And for once that actually sounded pretty appealing to him right about now. 

Liz must’ve known he was conflicted about her offer as she took one pill out and gave him a lazy smile. “It’ll make you forget about everything that’s stressing you out right now,” she said and took the pill between her thumb and index finger. “You’ll be numb to everything, Anakin. Trust me, you’ll feel so much better. And you only need to take one.”

If he was completely sober right now, he would’ve pushed the pill away and left, but he wasn’t. So he opened his mouth and let her place it onto his tongue. She lifted up his drink and held it out to him, not letting him set it down until it was finished. 

Then she ordered him another one and practically forced it down his throat as well before pulling him away from the bar once he was beginning to feel lightheaded. “I should sit,” his voice sounded muffled to his own ears as she tugged him through the crowd of people and towards a secluded area of the club. 

Liz shook her head, and the movement had his own head spinning a bit. “No,” she murmured, running her hand up his abdomen, pulling his white shirt up with her as she did so. “You need to relax. Let me help you.”

“Liz,” he tried to push her away but he felt numb. No matter how many times he tried to blink away the blurriness, he still wasn’t able to see clearly. He wasn’t feeling any happier, in fact he felt worse, but at least his chest wasn’t aching anymore. “I should call Y/n. I need to tell her that I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” she hushed him, pushing him up against a wall before crouching down in front of him. “Pretend I’m Y/n.”

Anakin shook his head and felt his eyesight worsen at the fast movement. “I can’t,” he begged. “Liz-”

“I’m Y/n,” she persisted, beginning to kiss up his abs, surely leaving behind bright red lipstick stains in her path. “It’s Y/n, baby. Just relax, Ani, let me take care of you.”

Her lips on his skin felt foreign and he tried to push her away again but she seemed to be a lot stronger than he is right now. His head was spinning and his body felt like it was on fire as he looked around the dark area. “Y/n,” he weakly called out, hearing a laugh come from below him that sounded a lot like yours. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m here,” if he really thought about it, he could almost picture that it was you in front of him. It was you who is kissing up his chest, you who is pushing away his black jean jacket in order to trace your tongue up his ribcage. 

Anakin looked down and could’ve sworn that it actually is you. You had come here for him after your terrible phone call earlier. You were here with him, making him feel like he was the most important person in the world. “Y/n,” he rasped, reaching a hand out and tracing his knuckles along your jaw. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Ani,” it was even your sweet voice that responded to him. And if he squinted, he could almost make out the A you had tattooed on your wrist. “Am I making you feel good, baby?”

He leaned back against the wall you had pushed him against and felt his head pound a bit as the high took over his body. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, caressing the sides of your face as you stood to your full height. You seemed a bit taller than before, even in heels, but he wasn’t able to question you on it before the distance was closed and your mouth was pressed to his. 

Except it wasn’t your mouth. And it wasn’t your hand gripping the back of his neck. It wasn’t you. 

Anakin pulled back instantly, the feeling of Liz’s lips on his own making bile rise up his throat as he stumbled away from her. The high came crashing down quickly, making his head ache worse than anything he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Guilt and shame hit him at full speed and his eyes burned with tears as Liz invaded his space again. 

His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his ears were ringing as he pushed her away when she tried to grab onto his arm. “Get away from me,” he muttered, watching as she shook her head. 

“You’re coming back down, Anakin, you’re probably feeling kind of dizzy right now. Just hold onto me and we’ll go sit somewhere,” she offered but he just squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to hold back the bile rising in his throat at what he had just done.

[bloogers-boogers]

Hi! I have a lil au idea for you! Pretty much my first idea for Adam and Michael. Get the popcorn 'cause this is gonna be long.

Lucifer and Michael were quite invested in the two humans. Lucifer kept drooling over Lilith but Michael was the opposite. Something about Lilith's attitude just pissed him off. She was quite arrogant and bossy, always shooing his lover away or ordering him around to make him go away then telling Lucifer something else. Adam from the first moment adored Michael and Lucifer but Lilith also hated Michael.

Michael once made the mistake of calling Lilith out on her behaviour. A fight between Lucifer and Michael broke out. Fortunately it was broken up by Sera and no one got seriously hurt. Adam tried to ignore all the things Michael said but some things started to click. Adam distanced himself from Lilith and Lucifer.

Michael got punished, worsening his punishment by arguing with the elders about Lilith. He felt betrayed. They used to stand by him. They used to trust him but now, things are changing. Michael started to leave his office less and less 'til another fight broke out between Michael and Sera. Michael ended up leaving to the garden to meet Adam again. Adam told him that Lucifer told him that he is getting a new wife. A woman named "Eve". Michael was surprised. No one even told him about it. Lucifer and Lilith in the meantime are living their best lives in the garden. Eve was created and Adam hell for her like no other. He was finally happy.

Lilith got jealous and asked Luci to help him.

A couple of days went by and Adam was going to his lover with Michael to introduce him to her. They've found Eve but...she was on top of Lucifer, both of them red in the face. Michael was furious with his brother.

Eve tried to explain but all Adam said to her was "You're just like her" then ran away from the scene. Michael asked Lucifer if he was proud of himself but before Lucifer could answer, his brother was already gone.

Michael went after Adam and had an idea on the way. Maybe he could help Adam get revenge. Michael forged up an idea to manipulate Eve into eating the apple.

They did just that. Lilith got curious after seeing Eve's change in personality and ate the apple as well.

The elder angels found out and banished Eve and Lilith onto Earth, giving them help to create humanity on their own but other than that, they were on their own.

Michael and Adam were banished to hell for what they've done.

A long time later, Adam and Michael had a daughter, Charlie...

Ik it's just a swap au but it's kinda fun. I haven't yes Adam AND Michael in the places of Lucifer and Lilith yet.

Have a rose for reading all this:🌹

DUDE I SWEAR I READ THIS LIKE THREEE TIMES ALREADY I’m such a sucker for swap au and let me tell u this is the type of fic I’d read omygod lsbelwbdwñeb 💖💖💖

I love the idea that initially Lilith would hate Michael but eventually grow to like him once Adam deals settles in heaven (so not only Adam speaks of him but she has to meet up with him in the meetings so she eventually starts developing feelings for the king of hell), so in the exterminations maybe she’s the leader of the exterminators now? And she’d go there and try provoking Michael and flirting but Michael is so down bad for Adam he doesn’t even bat an eye!

Lucifer is literally being cucked as a great karma for what he did to Adam in this au! Like, Lilith is no longer in love with him but uses him to hold power in heaven (she literally picked Eve over him back in the garden). She also flirts with Adam at his arrival albdwlsbwlw at first it was just to be a bitch to him but eventually she genuinely wanted to score him. (but ofc Adam was only annoyed by her advances.)

Adam deal has something to do to protect his family so he’s forced to be up there but he’s still madly in love with Michael, though, he’s also force to be around Lucifer a lot more (the angel would look for him, *cough cough* he’s enthralled by the first man. Also bc this is kinda of a great excuse for him to speak with his brother which he misses to inform him of Adam’s doings.) Adam is not allowed to be with Michael, speak with his daughter or in hell unfortunately.

Eve whereabouts still remains a mystery (but Adam knows where she is. I feel they somehow made up at some point and are acquaintances at the very least.)

And I feel Michael’s way of dealing with his depression unlike Lucifer’s who tries to avoid his responsibilities and locks himself away, Michael will indulge with them and even add more to the pile, working nonstop. Shutting himself in his office (instead of workshop) and be like this workaholic king who shuts down any possibility of distractions and family time (poor Charlie…) he may even do the opposite of Lucifer who was always hiding in his castle, while Michael would rarely ever be home! Like traveling through all rings dealing with deals, meetings and all that stuff.

Either way I NEED MORE OF THIS OMYGOD 🔥🔥💖