#one of which should really have two people on it to help with the workload but whatever

[jaeyunluvbot]

midnight fiction

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 coworkers to lovers, strangers to lovers, coworker!wonbin x fem!reader, fluff, tiny bit of angst

word count 𝟅𝟈

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You sit at your desk, fingers moving deftly across the keyboard as you try to make a dent in the long list of tasks piled up for the day. The to-do list pinned to your monitor catches your eye, each unchecked box causing a pang of stress.

“Y/N!” Your manager’s voice breaks your focus, and you turn to see him walking toward you, his usual “I need you to do something for me” smile plastered across his face.

“Got a second? The new hire’s here—can you give him the tour? Show him the ropes?”

You smile curtly and hold back a deep sigh. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

“I knew I could count on you!” he says, flashing you a grin before heading off.

You push back from your desk, grabbing the folder he’d dropped on your desk, and mentally preparing yourself. Usually, you love helping people, but your workload is already overwhelming, and your manager adding random tasks constantly certainly doesn’t help.

As you make your way to the lobby, you spot him—Wonbin. He stands near reception, tall and a little stiff in his crisp shirt and tie. His eyes flit around the room, a mix of curiosity and nervousness on his face. Clearly a new hire.

“Wonbin, right?” you call, forcing a friendly smile as you approach.

He turns toward you, and his face lights up. “Yeah, that’s me. You must be Y/N.”

“That’s me,” you reply, extending a hand. “Welcome to the team. I’m here to give you the grand tour.”

“Thanks,” he says, shaking your hand firmly. “I really appreciate it. Sorry to take up your time.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, but you brush it aside. “No problem. Let’s get started.”

As you lead him through the office, you point out the essentials—the break room, the conference rooms, the kitchen. “We have free coffee here, and snacks, but if you value your life, don’t touch anyone’s lunch in the fridge,” you say with a smirk.

He chuckles, his nervous energy easing a bit. “Good to know. Anything else I should know?”

“Stick with me, and you’ll survive,” you joke, surprising yourself with how easily the words come.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, flashing a grin.

By the time the tour ends, you begrudgingly admit he’s not as bad as you’d expected. He’s polite, eager to learn, and genuinely seems to care about getting things right. Still, you’re trapped under a mountain of work, and the extra time you’re spending with him feels like another item on your already endless to-do list.

“Alright,” you say as you stop near his desk. “That should cover the basics. Let me know if you have any questions. I’m just over there.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll try not to bother you too much,” he says with an earnest smile.

You give him a strained smile before heading back to your desk, already trying to refocus on your workload. But something about his tone lingers in your mind—a small, not unpleasant, but still unwelcome distraction.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Weeks later, the two of you have settled into an unspoken rhythm. Wonbin often comes to you for help, and while it cuts into your work time, you can’t bring yourself to turn him away. He’s quick to pick things up and always grateful, which softens your frustration even on the busiest days.

“Alright, for this system,” you say one afternoon, sitting beside him at his desk, “you need to make sure the codes match these formats. If not, you’ll get an error that’ll make you want to quit on the spot.”

He leans closer to your monitor, his face contorted in concentration. “Got it. Match the formats or die.”

“Exactly,” you reply with a chuckle. “Here, give it a try.”

He takes the keyboard, carefully navigating the program. “Like this?”

“Perfect. Just double-check the—”

“Y/N!” Your manager’s voice interrupts again, sharp and expectant.

You swivel in your chair, already bracing yourself for another request. “Yes?”

“The scheduling software is acting up again. Can you fix it? And after that, HR needs help with the training program revisions.”

You plaster on a polite smile, even as irritation prickles beneath your skin. “Sure thing.”

“Great. Thanks!”

As he walks away, you stare blankly at Wonbin’s monitor, overwhelmed by everything you still need to do, plus these new tasks.

“Wow,” Wonbin says softly, breaking the silence.

“What?” you ask, turning back to him.

“Do they always dump this much on you?” he asks, disbelief clear in his voice.

You give him a tired smile. “Pretty much. I’ve got a knack for being reliable, I guess.”

“That’s not fair,” he says, frowning.

“It’s just how it is,” you reply with a shrug, masking your frustration. “Anyway, let’s finish this up so I can deal with that mess.”

Wonbin watches you for a moment, his expression pensive, before nodding and turning back to the screen. As you work together, you try to push your stress aside, but you can’t help but notice the way he looks at you—like he sees right through you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air as your team settled into a lively bar for the evening. It wasn’t your first choice for how to spend a Friday night, but you’d gone along with it—mostly out of guilt for turning down every other optional team event.

Wonbin, obviously, had found his way to your side the moment you arrived. “First office outing,” he said, holding up his drink with a sheepish smile. “Don’t let me embarrass myself too much.”

“I’ll try,” you said, grinning despite yourself.

The evening kicked off with lighthearted conversations and drinks, but it didn’t take long before someone spotted the karaoke machine in the corner. A cheer rose from the group as a few coworkers rushed to sign up for songs, dragging the less enthusiastic along with them.

“No way I’m singing,” you said, taking another sip of your drink.

“Oh, come on,” Wonbin teased, leaning closer. “You can’t let them have all the fun. Besides, it’s a team thing—bonding, right?”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You’re way too eager for someone who’s been here for like five minutes.”

He laughed. “I’m just trying to fit in. Plus, karaoke’s fun. You should try it.”

You laugh and shake your head furiously, “Singing really isn’t my thing, so no thanks.”

He drops it there and you appreciate him not pressuring you to venture too far outside of your comfort zone.

It didn’t take long for the microphone to find its way to you. Someone had signed you up—likely as a joke—and before you could protest, your coworkers were chanting your name.

“You’ve got this,” Wonbin said, nudging you toward the stage with an encouraging grin.

Reluctantly, you chug the rest of your drink, and made you way to the stage, picking the first familiar song you see, deciding it was better to just get it over with. The music started, and as you sang, you felt your nerves ease. By the end of the song, you were smiling, met with loud applause and cheers from the team.

“Not bad!” Wonbin called out as you returned to your seat, cheeks flushed from the attention.

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help laughing.

When it was his turn, Wonbin took the stage with the same amount of energy he had at work, a lot. He picked a fast-paced, upbeat song and leaned fully into the performance, complete with exaggerated dance moves that had the entire room doubling over with laughter.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched him. He looked so carefree, so genuinely happy, and it was contagious.

You’d never noticed how attractive he actually was, usually too distracted with your work and general disdain for the office environment. You brush the thought off as quickly as it had entered your mind, not needing to add a crush, however small, to your already hectic life.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The outing ended with you and Wonbin leaving together, walking side by side toward the bus station. The streets were quieter now, the buzz of the bar replaced by the soft hum of passing cars and the occasional whooshing of the wind.

“That was… surprisingly fun,” you admitted, glancing at him.

“See? Told you karaoke’s not so bad,” he said, smirking.

You chuckled, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Alright, fine. You win this one. But seriously, you were… something else up there. That dance routine?”

“I aim to entertain,” he said with mock pretentiousness, making you laugh again.

As the laughter faded, you found yourself relaxing in his presence in a way you hadn’t expected. The conversation turned quieter, more genuine, as you opened up about the stress you’d been feeling at work. He listened intently, nodding occasionally, his expression softening.

“You do way too much for that place,” he said finally. “They don’t deserve you.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “It’s just… part of the job,” you said lamely.

“Doesn’t mean it’s fair,” he said, his tone firm. “You deserve a break, Y/N. Or at least someone to help take some of the load off.”

You gave him a small smile, touched by his sincerity and care. “Thanks, Wonbin.”

He shrugged, but his eyes stayed on you, warm and steady. “Anytime.”

You turn away from him, your shoulder gently shoving against his as you resume walking towards the bust stop. Your face feels suddenly a bit warm, but you elect to blame it on the biting wind.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Your surprising new after-work routine had started as a coincidence. One evening after work, you found yourself walking toward the bus station at the same time as Wonbin. The conversation was light, filled with random musings about the day and jokes about a particularly obnoxious coworker who always seemed to have something urgent five minutes before clocking out.

The next day, it happened again. Then the day after that. Before long, it became a routine.

“Okay, so tell me if I’m crazy,” Wonbin said one evening as you both trudged along the quiet sidewalk. His breath puffed in the cold air. “But does Mr. Lee always call for a meeting just to hear himself talk?”

You snorted. “Absolutely. The man loves the sound of his own voice. Did you notice he always asks questions, then interrupts when you answer?”

Wonbin’s laugh rang out, warm and genuine. “Right? It’s like, ‘Why even ask, man?’”

You shook your head, still grinning. “It’s honestly a skill. He could teach a class on how not to communicate.”

“Sign me up,” Wonbin said, mock-serious. “I need to be prepared.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, the stress of the workday melting away as you teased each other and bonded over shared grievances. It was strange, but comforting—having someone who just got you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few weeks into your routine, the weather took a sharp turn. That day, you’d rushed out the door, forgetting your jacket in your scramble to make it on time. By the time you and Wonbin started your walk to the bus station, the cold had sunk its teeth into you.

“Are you seriously not wearing a jacket?” Wonbin asked, glancing at you as you shivered beside him.

“Forgot it at home,” you admitted, hugging yourself for warmth. “It’s fine. I’ll survive, we’re almost at the bus stop anyways.”

He frowned, stopping in his tracks. Before you could ask why, he shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

“Wonbin—no, you’ll freeze!” you protested, trying to hand it back.

“Relax,” he said, waving you off. “You’ve helped me so much with work—even though you’re swamped. It’s the least I can do.”

You hesitated, looking at him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll be fine. My bus is quicker, anyway.”

The jacket was warm, carrying the faint scent of his cologne. You pulled it tighter around yourself, your face heating despite the chill. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

He grinned. “Anytime. Just don’t forget it again, or I might start charging you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt lighter. The walk continued, the silence between you now companionable. You glanced at him, his hands shoved in his pockets against the cold, and a thought you hadn’t dared to entertain before crept into your mind: maybe, just maybe, there was something more here.

It didn’t take long for your routine walks to the bus station to evolve into hanging out outside of work. At first, it was casual—a quick coffee after a long day, or splitting fries at the diner near the office. But soon, those quick moments turned into hours of talking, laughing, and getting to know each other beyond the walls of cubicles and meeting rooms.

One evening, after an especially frustrating day, the two of you sat on a bench at a small park near the bus stop. The air was crisp, and Wonbin had insisted on grabbing hot chocolate, claiming it was the ultimate stress relief. You had to admit, despite the chill, it was helping.

“So,” Wonbin said, leaning back on the bench and licking his cone thoughtfully. “Any progress on that scheduling software you were cursing under your breath all day?”

You groaned. “Don’t remind me. I feel like I aged ten years trying to fix that. Honestly, it’s just one more thing making me wonder if I should stick around here.”

Wonbin turned to you, his brows knitting in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, not sure why you felt nervous admitting it. But with him, it was easy to be honest. “I’ve been looking at other jobs,” you said finally. “I don’t know if I want to stay at the company. It’s just… a lot. And I feel like I’m always being forced to work on something way above my paygrade, you know?”

Wonbin stayed quiet for a moment, staring down at his half-melted cone. “Yeah, I get that,” he said softly. “But, selfishly, I think you should stay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

He grinned, but there was something in his tone that felt unusually sincere. “Because I’d miss you too much if you left.”

The words hung in the air, catching you off guard. He said it casually, almost like a joke, but the way his eyes lingered on yours told a different story.

You laughed nervously, trying to ease the tension you suddenly felt. “Well, that’s sweet, but I don’t think ‘keeping Wonbin company’ is a valid reason to stay in a job I hate.”

“Hey, it could be a selling point,” he said with a playful smirk. “Think about it: ‘Excellent coworker morale boost included.’”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “But I mean it. You’ve made this whole thing so much easier for me. I don’t know how I’d survive without you.”

Your heart fluttered, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the streetlights flickering in the distance. “Well, I haven’t decided anything yet,” you said, your voice quieter.

“Good,” he said, nudging your shoulder gently. “Because the office wouldn’t be the same without you. And neither would my life.”

The conversation drifted to other topics, but his words stayed with you long after you’d said goodbye for the night.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

This day had been nothing short of brutal. Deadlines were looming, the to-do list on your desk seemed to grow longer instead of shorter, and your manager had barely acknowledged all the extra work you’d been handling. By the time five o’clock rolled around, you were drained and on the verge of breaking down in tears.

As you packed up your things, Wonbin appeared by your desk, his usual bright smile in place. “Hey,” he said, tilting his head to study your expression. “You okay?”

You forced a tired smile. “Just a long day.”

He frowned, clearly unconvinced. “Come on, we’re leaving. You need a break.”

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Arcade,” he said, grabbing your bag off the back of your chair and slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Wonbin, I’m not exactly in the mood—”

“Exactly why we’re going,” he interrupted, a teasing grin lighting up his face. “Trust me. It’ll help.”

Reluctantly, you followed him, not having the energy to argue with him after the day you’d had.

He practically drags you out of the office, grabbing your hand to guide you, and surprisingly, he doesn’t let it go until you reach your destination.

The arcade was brightly lit and buzzing with energy, packed with kids and teens shouting excitedly over games. As you stepped inside, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Wonbin, we’re the only adults here.”

“So?” he said, unfazed, already scanning the room for a claw machine. “We’re twenty-something. That’s basically still kids, right?”

You shook your head, the stress of the day momentarily lifting. “Debatable.”

But it didn’t take long for you to get swept up in the fun. The two of you battled it out at a racing game, shot hoops side by side, and groaned dramatically when the claw machine refused to let go of the stuffed animal Wonbin had been trying to win for you.

By the time you were done, your cheeks hurt from smiling and your bad mood was a distant memory. Wonbin had even won you a cute plush from a claw machine, and when you’d tried to pay him back for the cost of how many tries it took him to win, he brushes you off, claiming it’s a way for him to thank you for helping him when he was still a new employee.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You can’t help but feel a touch of sadness at the ending of your little outing, selfishly wanting to spend more time with Wonbin, even though you knew you could use some rest too, probably more than he could.

The two of you walk side by side to the bus stop, occasionally exchanging hushed words, but mainly enjoying the quiet of the city at night.

The bus stop was quiet, the streetlights casting soft swaths of light over the sidewalk. You stood side by side, the energy of the arcade still lingering in the air between you.

“Feeling better?” Wonbin asked, his tone more gentle, almost loving now.

“Much,” you admitted. “Thanks for dragging me out. I needed that.”

He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something more serious.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice unusually quiet.

You turned to him, tilting your head. “Yeah?”

He took a deep breath, meeting your eyes. “I like you. I mean, really like you. And I know it’s probably bad timing with everything going on, but… I want to take you out. On a real date.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth blooming in your chest at his words. But just as quickly, reality set in.

“Wonbin,” you said softly, your voice tinged with regret. “You know how strict the company is about coworkers dating. I can’t… I don’t want to risk either of our jobs.”

His face fell slightly, but he nodded, his understanding clear. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel.”

You offered a small, sad smile. “I’m really glad you told me. And if things were different…”

He smiled faintly, his usual brightness dimmed but still there. “It’s okay. I get it.”

The bus arrived, and you both climbed on, sitting in your usual seats together. The ride was quiet but comfortable, his confession lingering in the air between you.

Though you hadn’t said it out loud, you couldn’t shake the realization that you liked him too. And now, you weren’t sure how to handle the growing feelings that had been set in motion.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The past few weeks had been a blur. Work piled higher than ever, and the looming deadline for the big project had consumed almost every waking moment. You’d barely had time to think, let alone spend any quality time with Wonbin. Your evenings were spent in exhaustion, collapsing into bed before you could even reply to his last message.

Despite the distance, he never complained. He still texted you every day—little updates about his life, random memes, or just simple “Don’t forget to eat!” reminders. You tried to keep up, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him in person.

You missed him. And it seemed like he missed you too.

The stress at work finally hit a breaking point one late night as you stared at your computer screen, the relentless grind taking its toll. With a deep breath, you decided enough was enough. On a whim, you updated your resume and applied to a few jobs, not really expecting much.

But to your surprise, an offer came in—one that promised better hours, a higher paycheck, and the kind of work-life balance you hadn’t experienced in years. The decision wasn’t easy, but deep down, you knew it was the right one.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Two weeks later, your resignation letter had been submitted, you were on your very last day, and your going-away party was in full swing.

The office was buzzing with energy, laughter echoing through the room as your coworkers gathered to celebrate your time at the company. For the first time in ages, you felt like you could breathe again. The weight of work stress had finally lifted, and for the first time in a long while, you felt genuinely happy.

Wonbin was there, of course, standing off to the side with his usual warm smile, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

“You look happy,” he said softly when you crossed paths during the party.

“I feel happy,” you admitted. “It’s like I can finally move on from… everything.”

His smile grew a little wistful. “It suits you.”

As the party wound down and the others began to leave, you found yourself volunteering to stay behind and clean up. Wonbin joined without hesitation, the two of you working in comfortable silence as you packed away decorations and collected stray plates and cups.

The quiet was soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos of the last few months.

“So,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence. “About that date?”

Wonbin froze mid-step, blinking at you as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

You turned to him, a small, teasing smile playing on your lips. “You said you wanted to take me out, but I don’t date coworkers, remember?”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and then realization dawned. His eyes widened. “Wait… you’re not my coworker anymore.”

“Exactly,” you said, your grin widening.

The joy on his face was instant, a brilliant smile spreading across his features as he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed you—soft and sweet, filled with all the feelings you’d both been holding back for months.

When he pulled back, his expression was full of wonder. “You’re serious about this?”

“Very,” you said, your cheeks warm. “I thought you’d be sad to see me go though. Something about missing me too much?”

He laughed, his voice soft and full of affection. “I’ll miss you, sure. But now I can do this…” He kissed you again, slower this time, his hand gently resting on your cheek.

When he pulled away, he grinned. “So yeah, it���s a win in my book.”

You laughed, your heart lighter than it had been in months. Maybe leaving the job was the right move after all—especially if it meant stepping into something new with him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𝟅𝟈 this one was requested by my best friend so kenz if ur reading this, ur welcome pookie! i lowkey love this one, so pls make sure to leave a like and comment if u also enjoyed it.

masterlist.

[iguessitsjustme]

Got “trained” on a project today and my director was talking like I knew I was on this project for a long time and not like he surprised me by scheduling training for today

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

wait, Derin how did your leaving make the hospital shut down?

I used to work as a live-in nanny for a pediatrician.

Now, the thing about hospitals in my country is that they are massively understaffed and massively underfunded. This is especially true outside the major cities. The staff are worked to the bone and receive little to no help in things like finding accommodation or childcare, making working in rural areas a very uninviting prospect; staff come out here, get lumped with the work of three people (because there's nobody else to do it), burn out under the workload and leave, meaning that those remaining have even more work because that person is gone. It's unsustainable and the medical staff are doing their best to sustain it, because people die if they don't, so to the higher-ups it looks like everything's getting done and therefore everything is fine.

My friend (and boss) worked one week on, one week off, swapping out with another pediatrician. This was necessary because it would not be physically possible for one person to handle the workload for longer periods of time. The one single pediatrician had to hold up the entire pediatrics ward, which was not only the only public hospital pediatrics ward in our town, but also the one that served all the towns around us for a few hours' drive in all directions. I regularly saw her go to work sick, aching, tired, or with a debilitating 'I can barely make words or see' level migraine, because if she took a day off, twenty children didn't get healthcare that day, and some of these kids' appointments were scheduled weeks in advance. She'd work long hours in the day and then be called in a couple of times overnight for an hour or two at a time (she was on-call at night too, because somebody had to be), and then go in the next day. Sometimes she would be forced to take a day off because she physically could not stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, meaning she couldn't drive to work.

Cue my niece's second birthday coming up in Melbourne. I'd been working for her for about 3 years, and she (and the hospital) had plenty of advance warning that I (and therefore she) needed one (1) Friday off. That's fine, we'll find someone to work that Friday, the hospital said. Right up until the last week where they're like "oh, we can't find a replacement; you can come in, can't you?"

No, she tells them; I don't have anyone to watch my kid that day.

Oh, surely you can hire a babysitter for this one day, they say. Think of the children! We really really need you to work that day. I know we said it'd be fine but we need you now, there's no one else to do it.

There are no other babysitters, she told them. Unless you can find one?

That's not our responsibility, they said.

But I'm not changing my plans, she's got plans by now as well, the hospital knew about this one day weeks in advance, and with absolutely no reserve staff they're forced to reschedule all pediatrics appointments for that Friday. Not a huge deal, it happens on the 'physically too overworked to get out of bed' days too. I go to Melbourne, she goes back to her home in Adelaide for her recovery week, all should be on track.

My niece gives me Covid.

This was way back in the first wave of the pandemic, and there were no Covid vaccines yet. The rules were isolate, mask up, hope. I had Covid in the house, and it would've been madness for my friend and her toddler to come back into the Covid house instead of staying in Adelaide. There was absolutely no way that a pediatrician could live with someone in quarantine due to Covid and go to work in the hospital with sick children every day. And no support existed for finding another babysitter, or temporary accommodation, so the hospital was down a pediatrician.

The other pediatrician wasn't available to do a three-week stint. They were also trapped in Adelaide on their well-earned week off.

Meaning that the only major pediatrics ward within a several-hour radius had no pediatricians. They had to shut down and send all urgent cases to Adelaide for the week. To the complete absence of surprise of any of the doctors or nurses; of course this would happen, this was bound to happen, it presumably keeps happening. But probably to the surprise of the higher-ups. After all, the hospital was doing fine, right? Of course all the staff were complaining of overwork and a lack of resources in every meeting, but they could always be fobbed off with the promise of more help sometime in the future; the work was mostly getting done, so the issue couldn't be too urgent.

It's not like some nanny who doesn't even work for the hospital could go out of town for a weekend for the first time in three years, and get the only public pediatrics ward in the area shut down for a week.

[troloxyn]

Self Control. (Jason Todd x Reader)

TW- Smut, drinking!!

One night at a party, you and Jason hook up, and now you're both too afraid to speak to one another. That is until he decides to help you with homework two weeks later, breaking the silence.

Listen, I haven't been able to do any school work because my mind decided it HAD to finish this first. so i hope yall enjoy! Deadass over five thousand words, I think my brain melted a little bit writing this.

Word count: 5,366

--

Having aspirations outside of vigilantism was ideal, as long as you could keep up with the pressure. Piles of overdue assignments, paperwork, case studies and unread emails clawed at her from inside of her computer. You should have something outside of your nightlife escapades- it was encouraged, expected. Keeping up with the workload was just second nature. Which right now, she could not. If she gave into the pressure of her inability to focus, she would have dropped out of her bachelors classes two semesters ago. However, the eating force of fear of failure won her over. Not only was she not one to accept failure, her entire ride to college was free- on behalf of the Wayne estate- and she definitely couldn’t disappoint him of all people. 

This one was destroying her. A case study in her criminal psychology class. If the world hadn’t moved digitally, her entire desk would be littered with notes. She avoided this project on purpose- and now that she came to face it, she realized perhaps waiting until a week before it was due was giving herself too much credit. She whisked through photos, police reports, fake-autopsies, psychologist interviews- the pages were on a never ending loop. She was tearing her hair out by the time she made it to the end of the information portion, her wrist becoming sore from endless clicking. Time to focus. Lock the fuck in, girl, she tried to tell herself. 

“How’s the six figure amount of debt going?” 

She jumped out the sound of his voice, turning in her chair to face him. Standing in the door frame, leaned against the wooden, cherry kissed wall of the library with his arms crossed. Of course, he looked incredible. She could tell he just got back from the gym, his sleeveless black shirt over his toned frame and a pair of gray sweatpants she wouldn’t let him walk out of the house in if they were a couple. His face gleamed as if he was sweating, his hair pushed back in a mess. She didn’t do a double take because she knew she’d lose some form of her composure. 

The other reason she couldn’t focus. 

“Great, considering I'm not paying for it.” She scooted closer to her computer, as if it could pull her away from his magnetizing grip on her. She could feel his eyes behind her in the grazing of an awkward, heavy silence. 

“So, what are you working on?” 

One could say the two had gotten closer within the past couple of months. Before, he practically ignored her. As they got closer, their main interactions were chastising her over being late to school. Scolding her, as if Bruce didn’t do it enough. It was never condescending- when she slept in for classes, Jason would be pounding on her door or dragging her out of bed. 

The pressure caused by him came to a halt, though, after a drunken night of intimacy. Now she was definitely waking up late for school. She’d gotten sort of used to him forcing her out of bed.  It was an accident, she thinks to herself over and over every time her body recalled his touch. That’s what was really bothering her. The two would meet eyes around others and he wouldn’t tease her the way he usually did- something lingered behind his gaze and it bothered her- the way their eyes would meet when everyone got together. The way she’d catch him looking over at her from across the room- even before that night, but more often now. Neither of them spoke about it, she didn’t think they really had the guts to. Besides him initiating a few conversations, they haven’t talked at all. It happened rather quickly between them. He had her in the bathroom on the sink, tearing off her dress and squeezing her exposed breasts, his thick and strong legs pressed between her thighs so intimately. Bites all over her neck- bites that certainly bruised her collarbone and shoulders, uncaring for her sleeveless dress as long as it came off. A party on the outside, people babbling in conversation and music blaring louder than Bruce would have liked. Dick had poured heavy drinks that night. In those moments, nothing else mattered. It was between Jason and her, the clothes he was tearing off of her and all the frustrations he’d ignored. His free hand around the back of her neck, forcing her into a sloppy, messy, kiss- her lathered moans of excitement and the friction of his jeans to her thin panties. Quieting her with his lips, drenching her entire face with kisses. rubbing her swollen clit, unzipping his jeans- slipping her panties to the side, pushing himself in. Her gasping, parted lips and wide eyes- “Shush, baby- fuck- They’re gonna hear us-“

“A case study,” she replied, snapping out of her memories into reality. She could feel his presence behind her chair, feeling a hand come onto its back rest, gently making contact with her incidentally. She cleared her throat. “It’s a research project and a case study. It’s very long. I decided to ignore it for.. a while.” 

He hummed. “Shouldn’t be too hard. We’re used to this kind of stuff anyway.” 

“It’s not that,” she replied, scooting away from his touch. “It’s uh- Just can’t focus.” 

“That’s no excuse.” She rolled her eyes at his comment. She tried not to look at him too much- His ungloved, veined hands that trailed up to his tight arms. His fingers tapped one by one on her desk. He towered over her, he was so huge- “You need help?” 

“Help? No way,” she replied. She could smell whatever cologne he was wearing and she remembered it vividly from that night. She cleared her throat awkwardly, laughing a little at his suggestion in sheer intimidation of his looming  presence. “No. I wouldn’t want to bother you with this.”

He shrugged. Finding an excuse to at least be around her since it all happened. “I ‘ont got shit else to do. Plus, might be fun. You got other homework?” 

She cried, shrinking into her arms. “Fighting with you guys and being a college student- I don’t know which is gonna kill me first.” 

He was silent for a little bit and it ate at her. She was anticipating a sly remark, a comment about needing to get her life together, pull yourself up by the bootstraps, not an invasive silence- 

“You should be proud. It’s not easy.” 

His comment almost left her crippled. 

“Huh?” She looked back at him, giving him a look. He immediately froze up, frowning at her, flustered by her reaction. “Dammit- I try to be nice for once- I’m saying you’re doing a good job. I certainly couldn’t give a fuck enough to do what you do.” She smiled a bit and turned back to her screen. 

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He smacked his lips and leaned in closer to read the text on her screen, shaking his head. “Don’t be weird. I won’t do it again.” 

Except, that wasn’t the nicest thing he’d said to her. Maybe while sober, but that night in the bathroom through the suffocated echoes of laughter and music, he practically fawned over her. Spilling words of affection, calling her a goddess, treating every part of her body with an intense passion she didn’t expect he held for her. She’d never expected him to be like this, thrusting himself into her and gripping her ass tightly, mouth pressed against one another and still looking for oxygen through painted moans. Kissing every area of exposed skin he could breathe near, worshiping her body like it was a drying resource. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he moaned, pulling back while fucking her into the sink to get a look at her taking him. His thumb brushed her clit with enough force to form a knot in her stomach.  “J-jason-” He cut her off moans with more kisses, never stopping his rhythm.  “Better be quiet, baby,” he said through her lips. “You want this whole house to know what I’m doing to you?” Her moans were muffled by her whining, biting her lips closed as he looked into her eyes. “You want everyone to know how good I’m fucking you?” She nodded her head yes, barely able to manage the words out of her desperate mouth and he chuckled. “Oh yeah?” His voice made the knot in her stomach tighten like a balled fist. He could see it in her face and feel it inside of her, each word he spoke and every thrust she was being knocked over the edge. “Keep up them pretty moans then, baby, everyone’s gonna know who’s making you feel this good-” Her moans peaked and through his drunken state he wondered if anyone really heard them in here. He couldn’t care less, being knuckle deep into the girl he’d had dreams about for months and constantly stealing looks when he thought she didn’t notice. “You gonna cum for me, baby? That’s it, keep going, I won’t stop until you do.”

She wondered how he could act so cordial now. 

She didn’t forget any moment of that night. How they took shots together from a nearly failed mission, how they argued over comics, how they fought or threw their jackets at each other. How during their fake fight, he picked her up by her legs, slamming her into the couch. How easily he moved her around, how huge he was in comparison. How his arms felt on her body. How she swore she could totally beat his ass and how they had to fight- she just wanted him to put his hands on her for some reason, badly. How he had opened up to her in such a way she hadn’t seen before. How she noticed that night how incredibly handsome his smile was, or how his eyes gleamed in an almost squint when he laughed. How Dick had teased him for fighting with her. How when the party got louder and they kept talking and stumbling into each other, giggling and pushing each other into walls. Or how she’d pulled him into the bathroom and almost immediately were kissing, pressing into each other’s bodies like they’d been together for years. How the next day they couldn’t even look at each other. 

“Why don’t you start by organizing your sources? I can help with the interviews,” he said, snapping her out of her day dream. “You’re really gonna help me?” “Don’t think you could do it without me,” he smiled, something she didn’t catch him doing often. 

After a solid thirty minutes of reading, she realized she was going in circles. Each part of the overlapping case study was drowned out by the wretched banter of her memories. It felt impossible to not steal glances at him. Ever so often she would feel eyes on her and she would let him stare- moments at a time felt like minutes, they traded glances awkwardly.  She watched him as he intensely scrolled on the spare laptop, taking physical notes in one of her journals. His fist propping up his head as he wrote, eyebrows knitted in concentration. Recently, she started to notice how handsome he was. How the intensity of his personality took over his dark features in contrast to that pretty smile he gave when he was drinking the other night. He looked up at her, catching her stare red handed and she smiled. “How’s it coming?” She asked. She felt flustered and nervous, unable to diminish the little smiles that came to her face as she took glances at him. He closed the notebook and stretched his hands into the air, lifting his black shirt to reveal some of his stomach. “I should be asking you that,” he said in a yawn. “What’s the matter? Still can’t focus?” He asked. She shook her head no. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she muttered with an awkward laugh, turning back to her computer. She knew exactly what was wrong with her- and so did he. 

“Lemme’ see,” He said, sliding past her to her computer. Now they were dangerously close- his arm going underneath hers to reach her keyboard, their hands brushing against one another so he could move the mouse. They stayed like this for a few minutes, slowly getting closer to one another, his broad shoulders near her face. Gently, she placed her temple against his shoulder, scooting closer to him. She noticed him stop typing, the silence in the room drowned out by her laptop’s fans thudding every now and then. Snapping his concentration once more and putting him more on edge than he thought she could, “Do you wanna sit?” She asked. “We can sit together,” she was being bold.

 For ignoring his existence for almost two weeks, she had an awful lot of forced confidence. That whiplash scarred him, made his stomach turn, assuming he heard her incorrectly. He thought maybe he came off too strong that night, in the bathroom- perhaps it was the way he talked to her while he fucked her. Maybe it threw her off, perhaps he said too much. He was a passionate man and she had gotten a hold of him at the height of his yearning. She wanted to be close to him again- even if not in the same way, to be engulfed by his arms might be enough to help her focus. He agreed with great hesitation, feeling flustered and unlike himself. It wasn’t often when he felt put on edge, and everything about her was making something in him tick. Her soft touches, whatever perfume or shampoo she used, her quiet hums while she tried to work. He almost resented her for making him feel so self conscious. 

Watching her sit down into his lap, biting down on his tongue. For two weeks, ever since that night, he’d been trying to suppress the feelings that got worse with time. Confusion, anxiety, yearning for her all over again. He had a whiplash that he couldn’t lick to heal like other wounds. Approaching her was incredibly difficult, especially since she’d disappear whenever he came around. Months of dreaming about her in those positions were taken to reality and he savored every moment of licking up her body and taking her over and over again- but when he had felt that coldness from her, he wished he hadn’t even been there that night. He would have rather suffered in silence longer than for her to not talk to him. The night of the party was an accident, sure, but not a bad one- just not one he would’ve expected. Not one he knew how to confront properly. How could he be around her and act like nothing happened that night, when he had to cover her mouth to not let veracious moans leak out of the bathroom? Neither of them expected it to get to that point. He didn’t know where it came from. He had a certain amount of self control, self control that was tested- self control that failed with every racking thrust he slammed into her. He thought about it almost every minute of every day, slamming inside of her and grabbing her hair, the way she moaned and sighed in appreciation- the way his name rolled off her tongue like an orgasm building up in his body-

He had to stop thinking about it. He could feel an erection press his sweats and he huffed, moving her away from his crotch with ease. What was he doing here anyway? He wanted to talk to her- he’s wanted to since it happened- but it was too much to confront. Everytime he even got near her he could sense her discomfort. Dick asked him about her several times after that night. “Everybody knew you guys were flirting. You were body slamming her into the couch and twirling her around, and then you guys disappeared for an hour-” He was nervous, maybe even scared of her emotions, not knowing if she resented him for that night. But the way she was leaning back for comfortability against his chest, and the way she held onto his free arm so innocently, he sincerely doubted it now. With an arm wrapped around her waist, she moved back to the center of his lap. 

Maybe they would just never bring it up, he thought. Maybe they’ll just keep moving forward and with disdain or limerence for one another. He didn’t wanna do this every couple of weeks without talking to her in between, or having to pretend a part of him wasn’t deeply infatuated by her. He felt her shift and he could’ve let out a whimper- he had a feeling she knew what he was doing and it was torturing him. A hand fell to her thigh. He traced it a bit, as if it were casual- he was beginning to get light headed. She wore a skirt and thigh highs, so he played with the elasticity of her socks, snapping them onto her skin gently. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, his heart pounding like it was his first time. From over her shoulder, He looked at her thighs. He remembered that night, spreading them apart and pounding her. He buried his face into her neck, his member twitching from the memory, her smell, her ass pressing and shifting on him. He knew she could feel it and now he wanted to ask her all of those questions he had asked that same night while he had her on the sink.

 His hands slid down her thigh, squeezing them firmly, lightly parting them over his knees. She hummed. It was rather meak and it made him nervous with excitement. “Hmm?” He asked. “You’re distracting me,” she told him. Not like she didn’t enjoy it. 

“Excuses,” he mumbled into her neck. “What you need to do is focus.” He said, traveling further up her body. Bold, very bold. She could feel tightness in her stomach and her face flush with heat. “I’m trying,” she stuttered out as he explored more coverage of her thigh. His fingers traced her flesh, drawing closer and closer to her skirt. “Good,” he huffed. “Keep going.” His voice was more gentle than it usually was, slower and muffled into her shoulder. He watched as she organized her work, skipping through her case file and summarizing the prompt questions. His hands met her panties and her entire body tensed, he watched as she began to mistype on her keyboard and fumble with commands. Through the cloth of her panties, he felt damp fabric as he slid down her slit, coming back up and making full circles around her clit with his other hand squeezing her thigh. He held her thighs open with his own, fully spread out, only covered by the cloth of her skirt. She whined, hummed, mumbled his name, shifted against his stiff erection. “Why’d you stop typing?” He asked, his fingers in locomotion. She whined through closed lips, thighs twitching and tensing against his own. “Jason- It feels good-” “You’re gonna get in trouble if you don’t finish that work, girl.” He taunted her, quick but heavy moans escaping her lips. “Keep goin’,” he demanded. She did as she was told, trying to write sentences through a building orgasm. He could feel it from the way her thighs tensed and how her back arched that she was close. He wanted to give it to her so badly it made him ache, make her cum over and over again- he didn’t know if it was right, if they could be friends after this. He didn’t know if he could watch her act like he didn’t do these things to her after it was over. Was this worth whatever relationship they had left? Even as he contemplated it, his hands couldn’t stop roaming. He couldn’t fake it- he couldn’t act like he didn’t want her and he wouldn’t, either. He watched as she struggled to type and flip through files on her computer. “Good job, baby. You’re being sucha’ good girl.” He kissed her ears as she let out a soft moan, slipping his free hand up her loose fitted shirt, going under her bra. “Jason- I’m-” “Keep saying it, say my name again,” the friction of their clothes were making him raw with desperation, bucking his hips up as she melted onto him. He felt her tense up, longer than before, letting out a sigh of his name, gripping the sides of the chair and the mouse. He continued to touch the fabric covering her swollen clit, letting her ride out her orgasm as he kissed her face. The way she moaned and moved around in his lap could make anyone fall in love, he thought. That was dangerous. She was pressed completely into his back, humming his name, touching his face with her soft hands. He brought his fingers back to that sweet spot, making her finish even faster the second time. He could feel the dampness on her thighs, sweating onto his pants and he hadn’t even fingered her. 

He stood up, holding her by her waist as he did so, bending her back over the keyboard. “Keep working, baby. Don’t mind me, okay?” He kissed the sides of her face while he was pressed against her back. She heard his sweatpants shift as she worked his boxers. She tried to look back but he grabbed her face, pushing it down into the screen. “Work,” he ordered, more intensely this time. With her bent over her keyboard, her lifted skirt exposed her thin panties, working them halfway down her thighs. He removed his member from his boxers, precum staining his clothes and dripping from the tip. “What are you working on now, baby?” He asked. His voice made knots in her stomach as she tried to flip through pages and explain what she was doing. Her mouth parted to speak but was interrupted as his erection poked through her thighs, rubbing against her leaking mess. He had a strong grip on her ass, moving her hips back and forth on his cock, watching the gleam from her soaked cunt make noises. He moved slowly and with ease, her thighs were soaked from his teasing. “T- I’m- I’m working- Trying to-” He gave her ass a firm slap. “Speak up,” he groaned. His cock ached with every sliding motion, he could probably cum himself but he held back, satiating every movement. “The introduction- to my- my um..,” she panted. He laughed as she scrambled through her moans. “Please, Jason?” He hummed in appreciation. He kept working his dick back and forth against her slit, pushing himself faster each time from pure bliss. Now he was a moaning mess, low groans he tried to silence as he fucked her thighs. “Keep working,” he huffed. “You still have so much to do. You’ve been waking up late every day for classes, and you expect me to let you get away with that?” He watched as she cried, trying to type and retain information. Her brain, too distracted by his aching cock pleasing himself between her. She wanted to protest, to blame him for not waking her up like she’d gotten used to. So spoiled of her. Firmly she squeezed her thighs, earning a moan from his parted lips, stroking her hair with his free hand and tightly gripping it. With a quick gasp, he pulled her face back, kissing her gently. “I missed you,” he mumbled into her mouth. She almost didn’t hear him but she spoke through his moaning kisses when it registered. “I missed you so much, Jason,” he was now squeezing her breasts and rocking against her hips, steady moans he didn’t care to suppress anymore. “I thought about you everyday,” he admitted. “I thought about you in every single way.” He moaned, bending to kiss the back of her shoulders, trailing down her neck to the sensitivity of her spine. His words earned a yearning cry from her, and the part that wasn’t enjoying every engulfing moan of hers felt a slight dread about their future. As he kissed her shoulders, he wondered if she would come back to him after this. If they would be able to be normal like how it was before. Her back arched from the sweetness of his lips as he ran his hands underneath her clothes. Great, he thought. Go ahead and say a bunch of sweet shit to the girl you won’t talk to for the next month.

Pulling out his soaked member from her thighs, with ease, he pushed himself into her. Honest, drawn moans escaped their lips, saliva trailing from their lips as they departed. He grabbed her hips, forcing her down into the keyboard once more, taking in every part of her soaked cunt and moaning her name. She shifted, struggled against his hips, his length believably long for a man of his stature- something she was not used to. “C’mon, baby. Take it for me, like before,” He cooed, keeping his hand firm on her back as he fucked her, louder, sloppier moans of pain and pleasure from him poking parts of her that had only been reached by him. He was so different when they had sex, she had realized. So sweet and affectionate, intensely passionate and loving. Meekly she reached her hand to his hip, stopping his motion momentarily- he chuckled, grabbing ahold of the hand and holding it to her back. “What’s wrong? Can’t take it?” He asked through thrusts that made her unable to form words.  “Jason- feels so good, it’s so much,” she stuttered out, rocking her hips slowly. He grabbed her other arm, holding her back like a pair of handcuffs as his breathing hitched.

 “Oh yeah?” He asked. “You want me to keep going?” He said, slowing his thrusts. Her hips rocked promptly against his throbbing member, “please, please don’t stop,” she mumbled, her face now down into the coldness of the Wayne manor’s library desk. “No problem, sweetheart,” he spoke with confidence, picking up his speed, giving her no time to adjust. Fucking her almost senselessly, her moans now cries as his mercy ran thin. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t slow down, mindlessly knocking over her book bag and other school supplies as he broke into her. His pace was rapid and without any consideration of how she was going to sit down for the next few days. Slamming a hand down onto the table for added pressure while still restraining her, “-Tell me how much you enjoy this,” he panted, watching her struggle against him as her ass bounced against him every time he plunged into her. Her words were melted ice cream, scrambled word vomit, he fucked her so hard she could barely manage to spit anything but the word Jason out, which she mumbled with each thrust- and it drove him over the edge. “Tell me how much you missed this feeling, tell me how much you missed me,” he spat, grabbing her hair and forcing her face up. He looked at her with sincere need- not just a sexual one. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you Jason,” she confessed through stutters. It made him smile, a sweet, almost drunken smile as he laughed through huffs of pleasure. “So good for me,” he said through kisses. Her stomach fluttered from a softness she’d only seen once before in him. 

He picked up her leg, throwing it on the table to make sure he fucked her thoroughly enough to get his point across. With her arms now free, she grabbed onto the table for dear life, biting her tongue from letting out a scream she knew someone would hear from above the floorboards. They didn’t need Alfred coming in to check on if someone was getting murdered down here. Holding one leg up as he pounded into her, his breathing racking from every thrust that brought him closer to satisfaction, he grabbed a fistfull of her hair. “You’re gonna talk to me tomorrow, right?” The question threw her off guard, her moaning dimming as she tried to piece the words together. The grip on her hair tightened and she winced. “You’re not gonna ignore me after I fucked you this good?” He asked, getting closer to her ear, making sure he heard her right. “Because,” he panted as his hips bucked further into her, the grip on her elevated leg almost bruising. “I’m gonna fuck you like this every chance that I get.” The words edged her, he felt her body tensing, aching for release as he picked up his pace. “You don’t have a choice- me ‘nd you- we’re gonna do this a lot more.” He felt her cumming, squeezing around him, her back arching as he muttered filth into her ear, indescribable moans and thank you’s. “Don’t thank me yet,” he told her. “You’re not getting rid of me, girl. Try to ignore me again. You won’t forget how much I made you cum. You won’t forget how good I fucked you.” Her face felt hot and so did her entire body, more of a promise than a threat and she was fine with that. “I won’t forget,” she repeated as he kissed the lobe of her ear.  His chest now pressed against her back with a hand around her throat, “You’re mine. You’re all mine. You’re not going anywhere. I’ll see you tomorrow, and the day after that- everyday,” She felt herself cumming again as he beat into every corner of her walls, nodding profusely. “I’m all yours, Jay,” she whimpered. “Thank you- thank you-” She forced, her entire body squirming under pleasure. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Where do you want me to cum?” He asked. “Inside of me, please,” desperate and filled with need. “You want me to fill you up, princess?” She nodded, begging. “Look at me,” he demanded, forcing her face to his, eyes interlocking. “-Need to see that pretty face when I cum-” It was less of a demand and more of his own whimpering pleading. His hips bucked one last time into her, her mouth open for a kiss as she watched him finish, a range of emotion hitting his face as he tightened the grip on her leg, stroking her face with his free palm. It was incredibly hot, she thought, watching his face while he came.

 He pulled out with a sharp gasp. He bent over, kissing her exposed ass before pulling up her panties and fixing her skirt, fixing his own clothes afterwards. He grabbed a hold of her, sitting back down into the chair, stroking her hair and giving her small pecks on her face. With a sigh of content, he kissed her temple. “Alright, baby. Can you focus now for me?”

Meanwhile, upstairs. 

“Alfred,” Dick interrupted as Alfred tried for the door. “Why don’t you ever hangout with me anymore?” Alfred raised his eyebrow at the young man he practically raised in front of him. “Master Dick, whatever do you mean? Is our spare time spent with one another inefficient?” “Yes, right now it is,” Dick said with crossed arms. “We could be hanging out, right now.” “Sounds lovely. I just need to check the library-” “So, you don’t like me anymore?” Dick huffed, covering his face. “Can’t we go make cookies? Please?” Alfred sighed. “Master Dick, is there something wrong?’ “Yes, Alfred, there actually is.” Alfred raised his brow once again. “But if you bake with me right now, there won’t be. And I will be much happier.” “Is there something going on downstairs you don’t want me to know about?” Alfred asked with a concerned look. Maybe he didn’t want to know. “I think we should make sugar cookies this time,” Dick said with a grin, placing his hand on Alfred’s shoulder and leading him away from a now closed door.

[03jyh23]

— shooting stars!  || park seonghwa

loosely inspired by the drama shitting stars!

Most people aren’t interested in the truth. They just casually gossip to entertain themselves. No one takes responsibility for the caused pain.

idol!seonghwa x prmanager!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

trigger warnings: vanilla sex, honestly there's not much just kissing, touching, and... lovemaking. really soft smut. it's embarrassing, jealousy, argument, emotional distress, career-related stress, and difficult decisions

words: 8.2 k

reminder: what you're about to read is purely fiction, so let's keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! this is my longest story so far! i've been working on it like crazy for the past few days and here we finally are. so the smut... it's not really a smut but still? i tried oh god, i feel so embarrassed but yeah i just decided to go for it. it's again requested work but i actually changed some of it to fit into my idea... anyway thank you so much for requesting!

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i'd be so grateful for a little love – a like or comment would truly make my day!

The office in Mapo-gu, Seoul, felt stiflingly hot, despite having already downed three cups of iced coffee. With the air conditioning out of order and repairs not scheduled until two days later, you found yourself drowning in a sea of work. Who would have imagined that working at a medium-sized entertainment agency would entail such an overwhelming workload? You should have felt grateful for landing this job, considering the effort you had put into securing it, but at times, it felt overwhelmingly demanding. Being the head of the PR department at KQ Entertainment was certainly something to boast about, especially after ATEEZ's success. You joined the company a few years back when you were the sole member of the PR team. If you claimed you believed in the company's success from the beginning, you'd be lying. When you first entered, fear outweighed optimism regarding the future. Indeed, it was no small feat for eight teenage boys to shoulder the weight of an entire company, but ATEEZ rose to the challenge with unwavering determination and passion. Now, with two active bands under KQ's wings, you find yourself constantly occupied.  

Managing the members of ATEEZ was undoubtedly a challenging task, and surprisingly, it wasn't due to any misbehavior on their part. Despite their young age and the temptations that come with fame, the ATEEZ members remained remarkably grounded and focused on their careers. You truly admired that. But when a band from such a small company starts gaining momentum, rumors are bound to circulate. Your main priority was to prevent those rumors from leaking. Which wasn't easy, as people can be cruel when they're envious. But still, to this day ATEEZ has not been involved in any major scandals, which made you proud.  

In a small company like KQ, everybody knows each other. Initially, stepping into that environment, you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous around the members of ATEEZ. Their presence seemed to exude a magnetic energy that was both captivating and intimidating. As you interacted with them more and more, you realized that their aura was indeed something special. Each member brought their own unique charm and personality to the table. You and the members of ATEEZ grew slightly closer than others, due to your similar ages, but it was Seonghwa who stood out to you the most. His effortless humor, kindness, and genuine care for others made him a favorite. Right from the start, you felt drawn to him. However, you maintained a professional demeanor, knowing all too well the potential consequences of getting too close, especially considering his status as an idol. But at some point, company dinners and parties became regular occasions, where you celebrated each of ATEEZ’s success together. And as the alcohol in your system increased, your professionalism decreased. Your bond with Seonghwa deepened, you found yourself drawn to him more than ever before. Whether it was sharing drinks, engaging in playful games, or simply relishing heartfelt conversations over company dinner, you cherished every moment spent in his company. With each passing interaction, your admiration for him grew, and before you knew it, you were falling head over heels for him. Despite the looming fear of crossing a line you couldn't return from; you couldn't resist him. What started as a professional relationship evolved into something much deeper and more profound. The shy touches and lingering glances exchanged between you spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words alone couldn't express. In the midst of loud music and bustling crowds, you found yourselves leaning closer to each other, seeking solace in the warmth of each other's presence. His hand naturally gravitated to your waist whenever you stood side by side, a silent yet undeniable declaration of the connection you shared. 

The day had been long and exhausting, and you were just about ready to call it quits when the sudden intrusion of your boss jolted you from your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see him standing in the doorway, a look of excitement and urgency written across his face. 

"Y/N! Have you heard?" he exclaimed; his voice filled with anticipation. You blinked in surprise, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you leaned forward in your chair.  

"Heard what?" you asked, curiosity piqued. Your boss couldn't contain his grin as he delivered the news.  

"ATEEZ just sold out an entire US Tour!" The words hung in the air, sinking in slowly as you processed their significance. And then, without warning, a surge of elation washed over you, and before you knew it, you were on your feet, a joyful scream escaping your lips. 

"What?" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. Without a second thought, you rushed forward, enveloping your boss in a tight hug, overcome with happiness at the incredible news. It was a moment of pure exhilaration, a testament to the hard work and dedication of everyone involved in ATEEZ's journey. The exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment. The excitement in your boss's voice was contagious as he patted your back, a wide grin spreading across his face.  

"We are celebrating tonight!" he declared with enthusiasm, his words echoing through the office. A surge of anticipation raced through you at the prospect of celebrating ATEEZ's incredible achievement.  

"Absolutely!" you replied eagerly, already picturing the party ahead. With a playful wink, your boss continued,  

"So go back to your place, doll up, and I'll see you here at 7 sharp!" You nodded enthusiastically, a smile stretching from ear to ear.  

"You got it!" You exclaimed, already mentally planning your outfit for the evening. As you made your way out of the office, the excitement of the impending celebration filled you with renewed energy. With a spring in your step and a heart full of anticipation, you packed up your belongings and bid farewell to the office for the day. The thought of celebrating ATEEZ's success and the prospect of finally seeing Seonghwa filled you with an infectious excitement that bubbled within you. As you made your way through the bustling streets, the anticipation only grew stronger. The familiar sights and sounds of the city seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the promise of the evening ahead. Tonight was a night for celebration, a chance to toast to ATEEZ's success and revel in the joy of being surrounded by friends and colleagues. But above all else, it was a night to be reunited with Seonghwa, and you couldn't wait to see where the evening would take you. With a smile on your face and excitement in your heart, you pushed open the door to your apartment.  

After a quick shower to freshen up and wash away the cares of the day, you set about styling your hair and applying my makeup with meticulous care. With the luxury of extra time on your hands, you paid attention to every detail to ensure that you looked and felt your best for the evening ahead. After finishing your make-up, you reached out for your phone resting on the nightstand, your heart skipping a beat as you saw Seonghwa's name flashing on the screen. A surge of excitement coursed through you as you answered the call, eager to hear his voice after what felt like an eternity apart. 

"Hello?" You said, your voice tinged with anticipation as you brought the phone to your ear, butterflies dancing in your stomach. 

"Hey, it's me," Seonghwa's voice came through the line, warm and familiar, sending a rush of warmth through you. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied,  

"Hi, Seonghwa. I was just thinking about you." There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft chuckle.  

"Funny, I was just thinking about you too," he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I will see you tonight, right?"  

"Absolutely, I wouldn't miss it for anything," you replied without hesitation, "We definitely need to celebrate!" 

"Honestly, the only thing that matters is that I will finally see you," Seonghwa's voice came through the phone, filled with warmth and affection. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied,  

"Same here, Seonghwa. I've missed you." And as you exchanged a few more words of affection and excitement, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to be reunited once more. With a renewed sense of anticipation and joy, you ended the call, a sense of warmth and happiness lingering in your heart. Tonight was going to be a night to remember, and you couldn't wait to see Seonghwa's smiling face once more. 

Choosing the perfect outfit for the evening was challenging. On one hand, you wanted to look your best – to make a memorable impression on Seonghwa after being apart for so long due to his overseas schedule. But on the other hand, you didn't want to appear overdressed or out of place at the party. After rummaging through your wardrobe for what felt like an eternity, you finally settled on something. Opting for a timeless and sophisticated look, you selected a classic black shirt for the evening's celebration. Deciding to add a touch of allure to the ensemble, you opted to leave the top few buttons of the shirt undone, revealing a hint of skin. It was a small gesture, but it added just the right amount of intrigue to the outfit. Paired with a simple black skirt that hit just in the middle of your tights, the combination was effortlessly sexy. The monochromatic palette created a sleek and cohesive look that was eye-catching. With a few carefully chosen accessories – a delicate, gold necklace, a pair of understated earrings, and a sleek clutch – you completed the outfit. As you admired your reflection in the mirror, a sense of excitement washed over you. Tonight was going to be a night to remember. 

You entered the company building, the air was filled with electric energy, a tangible sense of excitement pulsating through the air. Everywhere you looked, you could see signs of preparation – colorful balloons swaying gently in the breeze, banners hanging from the walls, and a festive atmosphere that filled the space with warmth and joy. A smile spread across your lips as you took in the sight before you, feeling a surge of excitement building within you. It was clear that everyone had gone to great lengths to ensure that tonight's celebration would be a night to remember, a fitting tribute to ATEEZ's incredible achievement. With each step you took, the anticipation continued to build, fueled by the excitement of finally being reunited with Seonghwa and the rest of the ATEEZ members. After exchanging greetings with everyone and soaking in the festive atmosphere, you found yourself nestled in a cozy corner of the room, a drink in hand. As you scanned the bustling room, your heart skipped a beat with each familiar face that passed by, hoping to catch sight of Seonghwa among the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found.  

"Y/N!" As you heard your name called from across the room, you turned your head in the direction of the sound. Through the sea of people, you spotted a familiar face. 

"San!" You greeted him enthusiastically as he approached, a genuine smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. San was always such a warm and friendly presence, and you were genuinely glad that he had come over to you. "Congratulations!" you exclaimed as San pulled you in a warm hug. With a smile, you pulled back from the hug, meeting his gaze with genuine happiness in your eyes. "I'm so happy for you, San," you said sincerely, knowing that his success was well-deserved.  

"It's truly incredible," San replied, a smile tugging at his lips as he raised his glass to clink it against yours. The sound of glass meeting glass echoed through the room, a toast to success. "It's moments like these that make all the hard work worth it," San said, you nodded with agreement. "Here's to many more successes and celebrations to come." with a smile, you took another sip of your drink, savoring the moment and feeling grateful for the opportunity to share it with a friend like San. 

''Y/N! You look amazing!' You didn't notice when Hongjoong approached you, 

"Thank you!" You replied, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Before you could react, Hongjoong took your hand and spun you around gently, causing laughter to bubble up from within you. His eyes scanned you appreciatively, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks under his gaze. It was a simple gesture, but it filled you with a sense of happiness.  

"Am I interrupting something?" As the question hung in the air, you turned your gaze away from Hongjoong and met Seonghwa's eyes, feeling a rush of emotions wash over you. His presence seemed to fill the room, drawing you in with an intensity that was both exhilarating and unnerving. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between you both. In that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you standing there, caught in a moment. 

"No, not at all," you replied, as you tore your gaze away from Seonghwa's, turning back to face San and Hongjoong. "We were just catching up." your mind remained fixed on Seonghwa, unable to shake the feeling of his presence lingering in the air.  

"I was just telling her how amazing she looks tonight," As Hongjoong's words filled the air, a warm smile spread across your face at his kind gesture. It was a small reassurance amid the tension that lingered between Seonghwa and you, 

"Thank you, Hongjoong," you replied with genuine gratitude, meeting his gaze briefly before turning back to face Seonghwa once more. His eyes bore into yours, and you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts lay behind Seonghwa's gaze. 

''We will leave you two alone and say hi to the rest of the team.'' San spoke, as he took Hongjoong by his arm, and pulled him behind. 

"Of course," you replied, nodding in understanding as San and Hongjoong made their way towards the rest of the team. They disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. 

“I don’t like the way they look at you” Seonghwa's words hung in the air, breaking the silence with a weight that you couldn't ignore. His voice was soft, tinged with a hint of concern that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and curiosity at his sudden confession.  

"What do you mean?" you asked. There was a depth to his words that hinted at something more, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to elaborate. Seonghwa sighed, his expression troubled as he struggled to find the right words.  

"I mean... I just don't like the way they look at you," he confessed, his voice strained with emotion. His admission caught you off guard, and you were at a loss for how to respond. "It drives me crazy." As he downed his drink in one swift motion, you could see the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.  

"Seonghwa, are you... jealous?" you asked tentatively, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes widened at your question, and for a moment, he was speechless. 

"Jealous?" Seonghwa repeated, seemingly taken aback by your question. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the answer himself. After a moment of silence, he let out a soft chuckle, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Maybe I am," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The intensity of his confession made your heart flutter, and a blush crept up your cheeks. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, a sign of his nervousness that you had come to recognize. 

"I just... I care about you, you know?" He looked up at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that you hadn't seen before. It was a look of protectiveness, of possessiveness, but also of vulnerability. And in that moment, you realized that perhaps Seonghwa's feelings ran deeper than you had initially thought. Your moment was abruptly interrupted by someone calling his name from across the room. Your heart sank slightly, realizing that you wouldn't have the opportunity to delve deeper into the conversation. Seonghwa glanced at you apologetically, his expression filled with regret. 

"I'll be right back," he promised, his voice tinged with disappointment. You nodded in understanding, offering him a reassuring smile despite the lingering questions in your mind.  

"Take your time," you replied, watching as he made his way through the crowd, his figure disappearing into the throng of people. Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder about the true meaning behind Seonghwa's words. His confession had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within you, and you longed for the chance to delve deeper into it. But for now, all you could do was wait, hoping for the opportunity to continue your conversation when the time was right.  

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in a whirlwind of conversations and celebrations, the opportunity to continue the conversation with Seonghwa slipping further and further away with each passing moment. Seonghwa seemed to be caught up in the festivities as well, pulled in different directions by the demands of the evening. Despite your best efforts to find a moment alone with him, the bustling atmosphere of the party made it difficult to carve out the time for a private conversation. Seonghwa was constantly surrounded by friends and colleagues, and you found yourself pulled in different directions as well, engaging in lively discussions and catching up with the rest of the team.  

The atmosphere in the company was quiet, with only the faint echoes of the recent party lingering in the air. As the party slowly wound down and the last of the guests trickled out of the door, you found yourself alone in the room, left to clean up the aftermath. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached, and you turned to find Seonghwa lingering in the doorway.  

"Can I help you clean up?" he asked, his voice gentle and earnest. You nodded, appreciating his offer of help and the chance to speak with him once again. 

"Of course, thank you, Seonghwa." You replied, welcoming his company. Together, you started to pick up the scattered cups and plates, the silence between you comfortable yet filled with anticipation. Seonghwa worked diligently, making quick work of the mess. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, admiring his focus. When he finished, he looked up and met your gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. 

"It's much easier with two people," he commented, breaking the silence. You agreed and thanked him again for his help. The room was now clean, but neither of you made a move to leave. Seonghwa finally broke the silence.  

"About what I said earlier," he began, hesitating slightly. You nodded, indicating that you were listening. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he continued. "I meant what I said. I care about you... more than I probably should." His words echoed in the empty room; the atmosphere suddenly heavy. You looked at him, surprised by his confession but also relieved. His feelings mirrored your own, and you found yourself smiling at him. 

"I care about you too, Seonghwa," you replied, his face lit up at your words, and for the first time that evening, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. 

"Can I kiss you?" His words sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, and without hesitation, you reached out to gently cup his face in your hands. 

"Yes," you whispered, Seonghwa’s eyes twinkled with happiness at your answer. You could feel your heart pound against your chest in anticipation. Seonghwa’s touch was gentle yet commanding as he pulled you closer by your waist, drawing you into his embrace with a magnetic force that was impossible to resist. As his touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, your body reacted instinctively, responding to the electrifying sensation with an intensity that took your breath away. Every nerve seemed to ignite with a fiery spark as his fingertips grazed your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation. Seonghwa's lips were warm and soft against yours, each gentle brush sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. The moment his lips met yours, everything around melted away. All you could feel was him; his lips on yours, his heartbeat echoing your own. The kiss was soft, tender, filled with all the emotions that had been building up between you. With each press of Seonghwa’s lips against yours, you felt yourself melting into his touch, losing yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his embrace. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, a steady rhythm echoing the urgency of the desire that coursed through you. With each caress, your senses were heightened, attuned to every nuance of his touch. It was as if a spark had been ignited within you, setting your entire being ablaze with a fierce longing that threatened to consume you whole.  

"Seonghwa, we shouldn't," you whispered breathlessly against his lips as you pulled away, a pang of hesitation gnawing at your heart.  

"Why not?" He murmured, his breath hitching as he stared at you with a look of surprise and confusion. His words resonated within you, forcing you to confront the fear that had been lingering at the back of your mind. You swallowed hard, your mind wrestling with the feelings that had been building up inside you. 

"You're an idol, Seonghwa, and I... I work for your PR team," you started, your voice barely a whisper. You watched as the confusion in his eyes shifted to understanding, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. "The rules... the... the consequences," you stuttered, your heart pounding as you tried to put your fears into words. "We could get caught... I could lose my job... and it could ruin your career." For a moment, Seonghwa was silent, absorbing your words. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his feelings and the harsh reality of the world you both lived in. But then, he pulled you closer, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"I understand," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. "But I can't help how I feel about you. We'll figure this out... together." You tried to say something, to voice the concerns still swirling in your mind, but Seonghwa shook his head and placed a finger on your lips.  

"Shhh... I've waited too long for this," he murmured, and before you could respond, he leaned in once again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that left no room for argument. His touch was electrifying, his lips hungry and insistent against yours, and you found yourself returning his fervor with equal intensity. There was no gentleness, no tender caresses. Instead, your kiss was raw and unbridled, fueled by a primal hunger that threatened to consume you both. With each brush of your lips, the barriers that had once held you back crumbled, giving way to an overwhelming surge of desire. In the heat of the moment, there was no room for hesitation or doubt. All that mattered was the fiery connection that blazed between you, igniting a flame that burned brighter with each passing second. And as you lost yourselves in the intoxicating rush of passion, you knew that there was no turning back. As the world around you melted away, you found the courage to voice the words that had been on the tip of your tongue.  

"Let's go to my place," you breathed out, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his response. Seonghwa looked at you, a slight surprise in his eyes. Then a slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features into a look of pure happiness.  

"I'd love to," he replied, his voice husky. You reached out, gently grasping Seonghwa's wrist and pulling him to follow you. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but there was a glimmer of excitement mirrored in their depths. With a sense of urgency, you swiftly took your purse. Every movement was propelled by a heady mix of anticipation and desire, your heart pounding in rhythm with the rapid pace of your thoughts. As you made your way to the back door, Seonghwa paused for a moment, reaching for his jacket, glasses, and a mask before stepping outside. You were struck by his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. In that simple gesture, you saw a glimpse of the considerate and caring person he was beneath the surface. With a soft smile, you followed, grabbing your own jacket and slipping on a mask before joining Seonghwa outside. The cool night air greeted you as you stepped onto the pavement, wrapping you in its embrace. Feeling the warmth of Seonghwa's hand intertwining with yours sent a jolt of electricity. With your fingers intertwined, you set off together, following the familiar way that would lead you to your apartment. You couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude as you made your way through the quiet streets, it was a relief to know that your apartment was only a short distance away from the company. 

As soon as the door to your apartment closed behind you, Seonghwa pulled you hard into his chest, your bodies pressing on each other. His kisses became more urgent, his grip on you tighter as if he was afraid you would disappear. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless, his taste intoxicating, leaving you wanting more. In this moment, there was no room for remorse or second thoughts, only the overpowering need for each other. You were lost in him, in the overwhelming sensation of his touch, his taste, his scent. As the intensity of your shared passion escalated, Seonghwa moved to unbutton your shirt, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. 

"Wait," you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but he stopped at your words, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he waited for you to continue. "I... I just want to make sure we're both on the same page," you said softly, voice trembling slightly with the weight of the moment. "I care about you, Seonghwa, more than I can put into words. But I want it to mean something, for both of us." As you spoke, you searched his expression for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all you found was a profound sense of understanding and respect. In that moment, you were sure that Seonghwa shared your desire for something deeper, something more meaningful than just physical intimacy. His lips curved into a tender smile, and he reached up to gently cup your cheek in his hand.  

"I understand," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want this to mean something too, Y/N. More than anything. I’m not leaving you." With those words, the last of your doubts melted away, leaving only a sense of trust and connection between you. His touch, careful and loving, trailed down your body, taking the time to appreciate every inch of you. Seonghwa’s fingers traced over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. He took his time, his hands exploring you as if he was memorizing every curve, every line of your body. Your hands found their way to his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands. He let out a soft groan, his hot breath fanning against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His lips found yours again, stealing your breath away with the intensity of the kiss. His hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning it and tossing it aside. His gaze was full of admiration and desire as he looked at you, his eyes taking in your form.  

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with emotion. You blushed, a smile spreading across your lips at his words. Seonghwa leaned in, pressing kisses along your neck, collarbones, down to your chest. His hands finally moved to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His touch was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of pleasure through your body. Seonghwa was patient, taking his time to make you feel loved, and cherished. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, making you gasp with anticipation. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair, guiding him closer to where you needed him. "So impatient," Seonghwa commented as he moved back up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. Craving the feel of his skin against yours, your hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it and pushing it off his shoulders. You took a moment to admire him, your gaze trailing over his muscular chest, and the defined abs. Seonghwa was beautiful, every inch of him perfect. You reached out, your fingers tracing over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Seonghwa’s hands roamed your body, the touch igniting a fire within you. He moved lower once again, his lips trailing down your stomach, making you gasp with anticipation. His hands moved to your skirt, unzipping it and sliding it down your legs. Seonghwa’s lips found the skin on your thighs, his hands gently creasing them, each touch sending waves of desire coursing through you. His lips moved up your tight, his lips finding all your sensitive spots, making you arch your back and gasp out his name. You felt his breath dangerously close to your panties, which by now were soaked completely with your arousal.  

"Seonghwa," you moaned, your voice thick with longing as you arched your back, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that washed over you. "Not here," you murmured, your voice trembling as looked down on him with a mixture of desire and urgency. "Bedroom... Let's go to the bedroom." Seonghwa, with a deep and magnetic gaze that held you captive, guided you gently towards the bedroom. He led you to the edge of the bed, his hands never leaving your body. Carefully, with an affectionate touch, he laid you down on the soft sheets. Seonghwa's gaze was intense but tender, as if he was committing every detail of you to memory. The look in his eyes held a fervor that was both thrilling and comforting. The last piece of your clothing was slowly discarded, your lace panties landing softly on the floor. His hands, now free to explore, traced a path of heat down your bare body, each touch igniting a spark of anticipation. He kissed you deeply, a promise of more to come, before his eyes met yours once more. Seonghwa's gaze was full of adoration and hunger, a testament to the intimate connection that was about to deepen. Slowly, Seonghwa began to undress himself, his movements unhurried and deliberate. As the last piece of his clothing dropped to the floor, he positioned himself atop you, his bare skin against yours sending tremors of desire coursing through your veins. His eyes continued to hold your gaze, their depths reflecting the shared anticipation of the intimate moment that was about to unfold. 

"Is this alright?" Seonghwa whispered against your lips. 

"Yes," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, "Yes, Seonghwa... I'm yours." Your affirmation seemed to ignite something within him. A slow, intoxicating smile spread across his face, his dark eyes twinkling with a mixture of love, desire, and a hint of possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze never wavered from yours, maintaining eye contact as he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a searing, passionate kiss. One of his hands, tender and firm, cradled your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheeks. With the other one he steadied himself between your legs, and you finally felt him entering you slowly and gently, his movements measured and full of care. The feeling was intoxicating, overwhelming in its intensity but filled with a tenderness that only Seonghwa could provide. As Seonghwa moved, you felt a surge of pleasure that left you gasping, your fingers trailing over his back, your nails gently digging into his skin. His name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper, the syllables intertwining with the soft moans and gasps that filled the room. Each thrust heightened the pleasure, building up tension that had you moaning his name louder. He responded to your every sound, his movements shifting and adapting to your responses. It was as if he was attuned to every part of you, each touch designed to elicit the maximum pleasure. 

"Seonghwa," you moaned, as he continued to move, his rhythm steady and deliberate. He looked down at you, his gaze filled with love and desire, his expression mirroring the pleasure coursing through you. "I’m close" you whimpered as the pleasure started to overwhelm you. 

"I know, baby," he responded, his voice low and soothing. His eyes never left yours, holding your gaze as the room around you both seemed to fade. Each of his movements were measured, calculated to draw the maximum response from you. He knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and he wasn't afraid to take his time in delivering it. Seonghwa was completely in tune with your body, knowing just how to touch you, how to move, to bring you to the edge. A gasp escaped your lips as his rhythm increased, the intensity building as he moved. His name was a whispered prayer on your lips, the only word you could manage as you clung to him. The world around you narrowed to the feeling of him, the sight of him, the sound of him, the scent of him. 

"Let go baby," he murmured against your ear, his voice a soothing balm, grounding you in the moment. With a few more deep movements, he guided you both to the peak of your shared pleasure. The feeling was indescribable, a release of tension that left you both panting and gasping for breath. And through it all, Seonghwa was there with you, his gaze never leaving yours, his love and desire for you clear in his eyes. As the waves of pleasure subsided, Seonghwa collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. He held you close, his heart beating in time with yours as you both lay there in silence, the echoes of your shared climax still reverberating through your bodies. Seonghwa’s fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, a soothing gesture that eased the lingering tremors racking your body. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the tenderness of the gesture making your heart flutter. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. His concern was palpable, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

"More than okay," you assured him, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his sweaty forehead. His answering smile was warm and genuine, a sight that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. 

"Good," he murmured, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breathing slowly became more regular, his body relaxing as he basked in the afterglow. You laid there, tangled in each other's arms, your heartbeats syncing in the quiet. There was no need for words now, the silence between you was comfortable and familiar. As you drifted off to sleep, his arms tightened around you.  

You were suddenly awakened by the sound of Seonghwa's voice, harsh and irritated, a stark contrast to the gentle tone you had grown accustomed to. His distressed voice pierced the calm tranquility of the early morning as he was on the phone, pacing around the room with furrowed brows, clearly in frustration. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you noticed your phone blinking on the bedside table. Forty-three missed calls. A wave of chilly dread filled you as you unlocked your phone to see the flood of messages and notifications. The first one you clicked on made your heart drop. Pictures of you and Seonghwa, walking to your apartment, your hands intertwined, were plastered all over various media outlets. The headlines screamed about Seonghwa's secret relationship, a shocking revelation that seemed to have hit the fandom like a lightning bolt. The comments section was a whirlpool of emotions - shock, betrayal, and surprisingly, support. As you scrolled through the articles, you could barely register the words. This was your worst nightmare coming to life, the very reason you hesitated to start a relationship with Seonghwa in the first place. Seonghwa finished his call and turned to you, his face unnaturally pale.  

"It's all over the news," he said, his voice barely a whisper. The room felt suffocating as a heavy silence descended upon it, both of you too stunned to utter a word. The reality of the situation was sinking in, unfolding a terrifying scenario that you both had dreaded. Your mind was racing, scrambling to make sense of the situation. All your worst fears were coming to life - the fear of getting caught, of losing your job, and of potentially damaging Seonghwa's career. This was the adverse consequence of your secret relationship, the one you had feared and tried to prevent from the very beginning. Yet, amidst the turmoil, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. Your anger flared as you dialed your boss's number, your hands shaking as you held the phone to your ear. He picked up on the second ring, his voice tense, 

"You need to do your job and stop this information from spreading," he demanded, his tone cold and unyielding. You felt your heart clench at his words, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you fired back,  

"How am I supposed to do that when I'm the one involved?" The line crackled with tension as you braced yourself for your boss's response, knowing that your conversation was about to take a heated turn. 

"You're involved!?" His voice was sharp, laced with disbelief and a hint of anger. "How could you let this happen, Y/N? Do you have any idea what kind of mess you've gotten yourself into?" His words hit you like a slap in the face, and you felt a surge of anger rising within you.  

"I didn't 'let' anything happen," you shot back, your own voice rising with frustration. "This isn't something I planned or wanted. And as for the mess, believe me, I'm well aware of it." There was a tense pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with unspoken accusations and bitter recriminations. You could practically feel your boss's disappointment radiating through the phone, a heavy weight pressing down on you with each passing second. 

"We need to contain this," he said finally, his tone clipped and businesslike. "Handle the damage control on our end, write a press release. Stay out of the public eye, keep your head down, and for god's sake, don't make things worse." You clenched your jaw, struggling to keep your emotions in check as you listened to his instructions.  

"And what about Seonghwa?" you demanded, unable to suppress the edge of desperation in your voice. There was another pause, longer this time, as your boss considered his response.  

"Seonghwa knew what he was getting into when he chose this life," he said finally, his voice oddly cold and unsympathetic. "He's a public figure, and he needs to accept the consequences of his actions. Just like you do." The words hung between you, a bitter reminder of the harsh reality you were both facing. As you hung up the phone, a sense of resignation settled over you, knowing that no matter how much you wanted to protect Seonghwa, there were forces at play far beyond your control. Seonghwa, who had been a silent witness to your conversation, finally broke his silence. His sobs filled the room, each one stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You turned to him, your eyes filled with regret and sorrow.  

"I was supposed to be the one protecting you," you said, your voice choked with tears. You could see the pain in his eyes, reflecting your own as you confessed, "This was a mistake. I'm going to get fired, Seonghwa. There's no future for us." His face crumpled at your words, a look of utter devastation replacing his earlier confusion. 

"No, Y/N, please..." he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose you." he retorted, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and despair. His words hit you like a punch to the gut. As the silence settled in the room, you felt a lump forming in your throat. The harsh reality of the situation was too overwhelming to comprehend. The words that had been exchanged between you two still echoed in your ears, haunting you. The room, once filled with love and warmth, now felt cold and distant. The air was heavy with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Seonghwa, his eyes red and swollen from crying, looked at you. His usual cheerful demeanor was now replaced with a look of sadness and despair. He seemed like a completely different person. Seeing him like this broke your heart even more, the reality of the situation dawning on you. 

"I... I need some time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He got up from the bed, picked up his clothes from the floor and walked towards the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sat there, numb and silent, as you processed everything that had happened. You felt a sense of guilt wash over you, realizing that your actions had led to this mess. Picking up your phone, you answered the incoming call from one of the reporters.  

"This is a delicate matter, and we are currently fact-checking all the information," you replied, maintaining a professional tone. "We will be releasing an official press statement soon regarding the matter. Thank you for your understanding." 

For the next several minutes, you found yourself answering a seemingly endless stream of phone calls, bombarded with the same questions over and over again. "Who is this girl?" "Is it really Seonghwa?" "Is it official?" With each call, your heart ached a little more, the reality of the situation sinking in. You were the reason behind this mess, and with each question, the weight of your actions became increasingly clear. Seonghwa finally emerged from the bathroom, he was fully dressed, his hair neatly combed back, and his face, although still showing signs of distress, was more composed. He settled down next to you, the distance between you heavy with unspoken tension. You could feel his gaze burning into you, his eyes searching for answers in the depths of your own. But as he heard you denying what happened during countless phone calls, a flicker of hurt flashed across his features, overshadowing the mask of composure he had worn moments before. 

"Y/N," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "Why are you doing this? We can't keep pretending like nothing happened." His words cut through the silence like a knife, leaving you speechless in their wake. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, demanding honesty in the face of your denial. But as you met his eyes, you saw the pain reflected in their depths, and a pang of guilt surged through you. You had hurt him deeply with your words, and now, as you continued to deny the truth, you were only adding to his anguish. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you turned away, unable to meet Seonghwa’s gaze any longer. In that moment, you felt more alone than ever, trapped in a web of lies and deceit from which there seemed to be no escape.  

Once the calls ended, with a heavy heart, you began to draft a press release denying the rumors. As you typed, your mind raced with thoughts of how to properly word your denial, how to ensure that it would put an end to the rampant speculation. Seonghwa, who had been observing silently, finally spoke up, his tone filled with discontent. "Why are you denying it?" he asked, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and frustration. 

"Seonghwa, we have to," you tried explaining,  

"No, we don't," he retorted, his voice steady and determined. "We don't have to lie. We don't have to hide." 

"Seonghwa, we can't just admit to this. The backlash... it could ruin your career," you argued, your voice tinged with desperation. 

"And what? We lie? We hide?" Seonghwa countered, his voice filled with frustration.  

"We need to think about the consequences. The fans, the company... it's not just us we have to consider." you countered, trying to maintain your composure. 

"I don't care about that," he said, his voice softening. "I care about you. I care about us. I don't want to lie about that." 

"But this isn't just about us. There are other people involved. Our actions have consequences." you responded, your voice breaking slightly. 

"I know that" he said, his tone resolute. "But isn't our relationship worth fighting for?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. As the weight of your situation bore down, you felt the sting of desperation clawing at your heart, driving you to speak words you knew would hurt Seonghwa deeply. 

"What relationship are you even talking about, Seonghwa? We hadn't even had a 'what-are-we' talk, and everything is ruined," you spat out, your voice laced with bitterness and regret. "We kissed less than 24 hours ago, and now we're all over the news." The words spilled out of you like poison, each one laced with the bitter taste of reality. You could see the pain flicker across Seonghwa's face, his eyes clouding with hurt and confusion. But you couldn't stop yourself, couldn't hold back the flood of emotions threatening to consume you. "We need to protect you," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "There's no 'us' in this, Seonghwa. It's just you, and your career, and the future you've worked so hard for. I won't let you throw it all away for me." Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you turned away, unable to bear the weight of Seonghwa's gaze any longer. In that moment, you knew that you had hurt him deeply, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret those words. For better or worse, they were the truth, the raw, unfiltered truth that lay at the heart of your impossible situation. 

"You don't get to decide that" Seonghwa replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. "You don't get to decide what I throw away or keep. It's my life, my career, my future. And you... you're a part of that, whether you like it or not." His words hung heavy in the air, an undeniable truth that weighed down on your heart. "We're in this together, and I'm not letting you walk away just because you're scared. So, let's face this together. Let's fight for 'us', for our future. Because, in my eyes, there's no 'me' without 'us'." You stared at him, your heart pounding. His words echoed in your mind, raw and powerful. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear. Could you really fight for this? For him? Suddenly, the weight of your decision seemed more significant, more daunting. 

"I... I don't know, Seonghwa," you stuttered, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this. If I can put you at risk like that." 

But Seonghwa just shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "That's not for you to decide," he countered gently. "I'm ready to face whatever comes our way. And I want you by my side. So, will you fight with me?" 

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant at This Morning show with Alison Hammond and Dermot O’Leary talking about Good Omens Season 2, 11.07.2023 :) ❤

DO: And David joins us now. I mean, this looks like a great show.

David: Oh, yeah.

DO: So, I mean, It's pure Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, isn't it?

David: It is, yeah.

DO: The whole thing. So tell us, so if people haven't seen the first series and they want to go back, set the whole scene.

David: So I'm Hell's representative on Earth, Michael Sheen is Heaven's representative on Earth, put there to do the biding of our respective Head Offices. But we found out that if we became mates and sort of helped each other out, it kind of cut out the workload, cancelled each other out. So we're best mates. But in Series One we end up having to avert the apocalypse, which we managed to do, but as a result of that, we get cut off. So we're now living on Earth as independent individuals.

AH: So do you still need each other, then?

David: We still need each other. We've only got each other now because we don't have Heaven and Hell anymore.

DO: Because you both love earth so much, you both like.

David: Oh, we much prefer living on Earth because Heaven's a bit stuffy and Hell's awful.

DO: So you conspire to thwart the Armageddon. Exactly.

David: We thwart the Armageddon. That's fine. But Series Two begins when the angel Gabriel, Jon Hamm, who you just saw there, shows up at Aziraphale, Michael Sheen's bookshop, naked with no memory, holding a cardboard box. So suddenly we're locked into the politics of Heaven and Hell again. We don't know what's going on. We've got a mystery to solve. Why is the angel Gabriel here? The angel Gabriel tried to kill us both at the end of the last series, so we've got to...

DO: But now he's kind of got amnesia and...

David: Yes. So he becomes like our weird child, in this sort of weird sort of eternal marriage that Michael and I are locked in.

DO: So many shows now use a book as their base and then they do really well and you can see the company and the writers go, better come up some new ideas, I suppose. So the book's obviously Terry Pratchett and then Neil Gaiman, correct?

David: That's right. They wrote that together years and years and years ago. Much beloved. And that's what the first series was. But Neil and Terry had always talked about possibilities of this sequel that they never got around to making. Terry's no longer with us. But when the possibility came up, Neil thought, well, listen, I've got some ideas. Let's spin it forward. Let's see if we can tell the story we were always going to tell. So we get to come back.

AH: Should we have a little sneak look at the new series? Let's have a look. So good. Did you ever think it was going to be this successful? Did you even know that you were going to go into a second series

David: Oh, no, not at all. No. There was only one novel, so we just thought we were coming together to do that. And I didn't realise how beloved this book was. I first read a script. But it means a lot to a lot of people.

AH: And the look of you is so striking. Did you have any input into that? A bit, yeah, we sort of all found it together, myself and makeup and costume and Neil Gaiman, who ran the show. So, yeah, we kind of arrived... in the book he's a bit more - because obviously the book was sort of early ninetues, so he was a bit more sharp-suited and a bit more Wolf of Wall Street. So we've kind of had to find the kind of modern equivalent of that.

DO: Is he... obviously you're playing a demon. Has he got any humanity in him or is he purely self-centered?

David: Well, he's not a very good demon. He's good at sort of the snarl and the swagger and pretending that he's terribly cynical, but actually his problem is that he's a bit too...  there’s a bit too much heart, really.

DO: He's alright

David: Yeah, yeah.

DO: Must be wonderful playing a baddie.

David: Oh, it's great fun, but he's not a baddie, is not really a baddie.

DO: Yeah, yeah.

David: And just like Aziraphale angel is not always as goody goody as he likes it, so they meet very beautifully in the middle.

DO: You and Michael Sheen. I mean, you've worked together a fair bit, don't you. I loved Staged. That was such fun.

David: Yeah!

AH: Have you ever not worked together?

David: Now we only work together.

AH: All the time.

David: Yeah. I mean, He's not sitting on this sofa, but he is backstage. We can't be apart.

DO: He's speaking in his ear right now.

David: Exactly, yeah.

AH: But you are... you have got a genuine friendship. You're growing old together gracefully.

David: We're growing old together?!

AH: You look good for it, I'm not going to lie. What's the secret, babe?

David: A lot of makeup. It's very thick.

AH: We've got to talk about the fact that you are returning to Doctor Who.

David: Ah, yes.

AH: I can't believe this. And can you tell us anything at all?

David: I mean, beyond that I'm doing it? I think...

AH: No.

David: Really. Because that's the fun of it, isn't it? Hopefully tt was a bit of a surprise when I showed up. When Jodie Whittaker regenerated into me.

AH: We were shocked.

David: It was a bit of a surprise, so we wanted to sort of keep some shocks, but Catherine Tate's back, so it's a bit like 15 years never happened, to be honest.

DO: Know about it for a while. Like... did Russell T get in touch and say...

David: Yeah, it sort of gradually kind of evolved as an idea and we thought maybe they'd let us do a one off for old time's sake. And then suddenly it became a bit more than that and we were back for a bit of a run.

AH: So how many episodes did you get to do?

David: We did three.

AH: Wow. That's incredible. What's it like to be back? Did he just slot straight back in?

David: I mean, sort of. It felt weirdly familiar. Yeah. And you think, 'Oh, will I still able to run as fast? Can I still kind of...?' But it was like we'd never been away. It was joyous. Yeah.

DO: And could we talk about your son? Because is your son in Good Omens with you?

David: Ty's in... has a part in Episode Two of Good Omens.

AH: Is he?

DO: And I loved him in House of the Dragon.

David: I know. He's very good. He's very good.

DO: What a relief.

David: There he is. I know, what a relief. Exactly. No, I mean...

AH: Imagine if he was bad.

David: Imagine if he was rubbish. How would we tell him? Sit down, listen...I know it's sort of the family business, but maybe joinery? So... no, he's really good. And he's annoyingly good looking. You know, he's just got it all. So it's lovely and great to get to work together. Brilliant.

[shiongenkai]

Tokyo Debunker Headcanons

I'll probably add to this list again, so this isn't all of them forever, but here's some things I like to kick around in my brain about...

Jin

His style of playing chess is extremely close to Yuri's, and vice-versa. He'll deny it if you point it out though.

Kaito

He's just like his grandma when she was young, and she finds it fun to tease him about that (even if he doesn't realise that's why she's teasing him).

His bow aim depends on his own confidence for the most part, but also on how his bow is feeling, so even if he's perfectly confident, his bow will miss to mess with him sometimes

King thinks he's striking out with Luca and the MC daily, but the two of them always clench their fists in pure adoration when he leaves. 'So pathetic we can't NOT want him' vibes.

He got along with Zenji before he died. Sometimes he can still see him, but can't recognize that it's Zenji due to him appearing like the shadowy monster figure.

He's able to see the tree on Towa's hill, which is how they originally became friends.

Lucas

Him and Lyca occasionally meet up to discuss new things they've learned about Japan and exchange notes on slang they don't understand

Sho

ADHD king who channels his restlessness and pent up energy into different hobbies and sparring.

Always jumping to a new thing since he gets bored easily and tends to pick up on the basics intuitively.

Haru

He has a difficult time accepting genuine help outside of his immediate circle of Towa and, very very recently, Ren. He's fine leaving what he considers basic tasks to others (even if his definition of 'basic' is still much more involved than others) but when it comes to lessening his own workload, he's super avoidant of it

On that note, king doesn't get nearly enough sleep. He tends to snag small hour naps throughout the day rather than sleeping for an extended period of time. He feels too restless otherwise.

Despite seeming like he's willing to spend a lot of money on things that don't really matter (tracking devices, new fliers, etc), he virtually never buys things for himself or his own sake outside of drinks at Rui's bar. A $100 purchase for someone else is worth more to him than a $2 purchase for himself.

Towa

He and Shion have a rivalry over Haru, which Haru doesn't know about. Towa is very proud he gets to stay by Haru's side while Shion can't. Shion will die mad about it.

His perception on what's dangerous to humans has been skewed by being around Edward and Shion, so he thinks anything that hasn't killed them is safe enough for humans too (even when it's not).

Haru banned him from visiting Sinostra

He knows about Haru hanging out at the bar but doesn't mind it as much as Haru thinks he does. He prefers to chill at the hill anyway, and Haru can't see the tree.

Ritsu

Ren forced him to join his game guild for the invite bonus, and both of them expected Ritsu to hate it, but Ritsu accidentally got super, super into it. More into it than Ren. It is insufferable for them both

He has behavioral models for everyone, including anomalies like the ZipperCrocs and Peekaboo.

He is insanely, terribly gullible, and the other first years have a field day messing with him over it.

Leo has him blocked on WickChat after Ritsu quoted one too many stupid laws at him.

Zenji

He became scared of ghosts after coming to Darkwick since he realized they were real at that point.

He's the 'He asked for no pickles!' for Jiro, and has carried that over even though nobody but Haku can hear him advocate for his brother.

He sneaks out at night a lot to go watch people sleep, not because he's trying to be a creep, but because he likes to see people look peaceful at rest. He misses that sensation.

He created videos before he died, but rebranded after he died to capitalize on the idea of 'famous artist dies and works become more valuable'.

Yuri

He's a germaphobe, but only outside of the medical contexts. He obviously keeps clean for operations like a doctor should, but he doesn't freak out if he gets blood on him, or so on. If blood or dirt gets on him in any other context he freaks out.

He has OCD tendencies and likely OCD itself, but he's horrible at diagnosing himself with issues, and doesn't trust other doctors to do it for him.

The aforementioned difficulty also extends to physical issues like injuries, but he's more willing to rely on Jiro for those.

Ed

He is unironically a fan of Leo's TikTok and regularly watches his content.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey, steph! how are you, like, genuinely? not the small talk. i wanna listen

Hey Lovely 💜🖤

I want to apologize for putting this off for so long... which should be a clue as to how I am actually doing.

Honestly? Not good, but I'm trying my best. It's been... a time. Will put under a cut for those who don't want to read about the tagged items.

TL;DR – my real life is a bit chaotic, and I hide a lot from y'all because I REALLY try not to be negative here since my blog is where I come to be happy AND because I am a very private person, but I try my best to just keep going day to day as the chaos settles down slowly.

I've got some good things coming though, so I hope a week's rest next week when I'm off (and will probably take a break from here too) will reset my brain.

Work has been insane, and is most of the cause of my mental distress for the past few months. From Easter until Canada Day Weekend at my job is lovingly referred to as "Silly Season" simply because of how on-the-fly, balls-to-the-wall our workload is until summertime downtime officially begins for us. Without disclosing too much, it's basically non-stop, long hours for me until one of the 3 break weeks we get during the this long stretch happens where, incidentally because of the nature of my job and the team I work on, it actually gets BUSIER for us.

It actually ended earlier than we expected this year (yesterday) and we'll be "quieter" until the end of September now. See an opportunity, I actually took next week off between the two long weekends because my mental health has taken a severe hit and I'm having trouble just... enjoying things? I'm haven't gamed or drew in a few weeks, and blogging and writing feels like a chore. I literally just come home, file this blog, reply to one or two asks, and then go to bed, and do it all over again the next day. Day in and day out, for 3 months. On weekends I have to force myself out of my apartment because I KNOW I will sink lower if I don't leave.

On top of that, my brain has convinced me that literally everyone hates me: friends, coworkers, family, you guys, my damned plants. I just feel very alone these days and... I'll be real here, I've almost abandoned this blog a few times in the past few months. I feel like I make fic lists that no one reblogs or likes and tell me they're all shit. I post my art and I barely break 20 notes. I write something and I get maybe 2 likes. I can't really answer any thoughtful asks because my mental state's been in the shitter for months. I desperately want to reply to the few sexuality asks I have and I physically can't. Being on my computer – after working ON a computer for my day job for 12 hour days everyday – feels like too much, so I try to limit my time on the blog now too.

I just try to keep carrying on, encouraged by the once-in-a-blue-moon testimonial ask I get thanking me for still being here. I thank YOU guys for reminding me that people still like coming here.

Stressed about money and food and rent just like everyone else, and just getting frustrated at other things.

And finally, my uncle (my dad's brother and my godfather) hasn't been doing well health-wise, and he's being moved to assisted living next week. His health has been declining since Easter, so it's been a bit of worrying time for relatives.

Having my therapist helps a lot. She talks me through a lot of my complicated feelings, my sense of self and ways to cope with my anxiety and stress. I'm talking to her again next week, so no worries, gang. As I said, I just keep on keeping on.

Some positivity though:

I booked next week off to try to just... recenter myself. To forget about everything and TRY to get back to doing the things I love. I will probably take a break from this blog as well during that time to limit my social-media time. It's not ideal but I need a break from my computer, I think.

I go to the gym a lot more these days, which has helped with the seething annoyance I constantly have at work. Usually feel better after it.

And because of the gym and getting out more, I've been slowly feeling better physically, better than I have since before 2019. The break from work is for the mental health, LOL.

I'm getting my hair recoloured next week. Can't afford it, really, but I just REALLY need to feel better about myself again, and I always feel so different when I colour my hair. I was doing so good for awhile. I want that again.

Anyway, I'm sorry to bombard y'all with my complicated mess of a brain. I really do appreciate you asking, so THANK YOU. I rarely get asked in real life if I am okay because I keep very private due to past people betraying my trust. And I don't like seeing people unhappy, so I feel if I tell people about my problems, then I feel I am a burden, so I just... continue existing.

Thank you for letting me be a burden just this once.

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Four - Boiling Point

W/C: 7.4K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, slight SA (groping), drinking (if I missed anything please let me know)

A messy night and several unfortunate events.

A/N: This one got a little long but it was so fun to write, chaos is really fun to coordinate but my poor babies are taking the brunt of it all woops

Masterlist

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Working nights had flipped your entire sleeping schedule upside down.  Two weeks had passed since that first evening where you worked an entire shit show and you still weren’t accustomed to resting in the afternoon in preparation for the night shift.  It didn’t seem like such a big deal seeing as the bar thrived around three nights a week and remained quiet to steady the rest of the time but with a staff of only four, the workload piles up.  Tossing and turning on the couch, you groan, longing for a peaceful sleep that would energize you.  The bed wasn’t doing you any justice which is why the couch sounded that much more appealing but as it turns out they both had the same effect.  

Keeping you awake.

Now, there wasn’t anything remotely wrong with either one however, you just couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to find that blissful sleep you were yearning for.  

You were restless.

What didn’t help was the incessant shredding of an electric guitar next door.  The high pitch clawed at your ears and echoed throughout the canyon your house was settled in.  You could either suck it up and muffle the sound as best as you could with a pillow, or you could confront your noisy neighbor and politely let him know you were trying to sleep in order to fuel yourself to run his bar.  Confrontation was not your specialty and you would avoid it by any means necessary.  But it couldn’t hurt to just ask him to stop.  The worst he could do is laugh in your face and slam the door.

And that would be enough to turn your blood hot, not in rage, but in shame and embarrassment.  Maybe it was best to tuck your sweaty and fidgety body back into the couch for long enough that the imprints of the rough fabric would show up as indentations on your skin.  Hopefully the shrieking of the guitar would eventually fade away and become background noise in your dreams.  

It never did stop.

–

“Jett, could you please toss me that rag?  Major spill at table four.”

It was 6:00 PM, Friday night.  Just about every table and every stool was occupied, a competitive game of pool provoking many men to yell at the top of their lungs, causing your ear drums even more grief than the endless guitar solos you had to endure earlier.  On top of it all, drunk people on a Friday night were not easy to clean up after, several spills inevitably happening on your watch, with more than enough evidence to back your claim up.

“I’ll get it, you go on your break.”  Jett advises.

The Bourbon was nearly at capacity, a majority of the town’s regulars seated along the bar and even more of its residents engaging in their pre-weekend activities.  The people of Knife’s Edge were rambunctious or at least, that’s the only side of them you’d seen so far.  Most likely because they were all getting hammered.  Maybe you should get out more?  Then you could see their personalities sober and not glazed over with the confidence of alcohol.

“You sure?”  You ask sincerely.

Jett didn’t even have a second to glance up at you from the beers he was collecting, a whole round of them for a table of five men roaring with laughter.

“Yeah, if you don’t take it now it’s only going to get busier and you never will.”  He yells over the booming music.

“Okay.”

You’re reluctant to leave him alone but you trust his judgment, seeing as he has no issue making that call.  And customers seemed to love him, joking back and forth until he practically dragged himself back behind the bar.  They hadn’t seemed to take that kind of liking toward you quite yet and the only compliments you received were gross comments from older men that slurred their words, you respectfully dismissing yourself to tend to other customers just to escape.

Quickly, you make your way toward the back through the narrow hallway that leads out to the alley.  The bar had become stuffy, too many humans populating the small space, prompting a much needed break for a breath of fresh air.  Almost reaching the door, a haven that would relieve your sweat coated skin with a crisp breeze, you collide into something firm, a deep grunt coming from the source.

“Watch it, Bambi.”  Eddie barks, glaring down at you.  He holds an unopened bottle of tequila, knuckles white as he tightens his grasp.

“I-I’m sorry.”  You stutter, taken back by his stern voice.  It was for the most part, always stern but this time it was especially disapproving.

“Where are you going?”  He asks, brows furrowed.

“My break.  Jett just–”

“Your break?  Now?  I need all hands on deck right now, take your break in like thirty when it calms down.”  

A vein in his neck looks as if it’s about to pop, stress evident in his entire demeanor.  Even his lips are bitten and red from what seemed to be constant tugging from his teeth.  Maybe he needed a toothpick to chew on instead?  Maybe that’s why he chewed on them in the first place?

“Well I–Jett just sent me on break.”  You reason.

“Jett?”

“Yeah.”

He breathes in deep, head tilting toward the ceiling as he exhales through his mouth, clearly trying to maintain his calmness.  Although it always seemed like he was going to blow up and cause a scene when he got like this, he never did.  

“Jesus Christ, kid’s gonna give me an aneurysm.”

Walking down the hall toward the commotion of the bar, he shakes his head, curls bouncing and that famous frizz framing his head like a halo.  You keep your movements halted, feet glued to the floor in confusion as to whether you’re meant to follow him or actually go on your break.

“So do I–do you want me to take my break or–”

“Just go.”  He calls back, this time a calmer tone detected in his voice.

If you were meant to do the opposite in some sort of reverse psychology moment, you didn’t.  The cool air called to you and you were going to use all ten minutes to bathe in it, and reset your nervous system.  Eddie could sweat in your place for the time being.  

Things had been easier since that first shift; the cook, Randy, had returned and said that he left in the heat of the moment, explaining the following day that he lost his cool and was so certain he was going to quit.  Then he came back to his senses and realized how unrealistic that was and that he was in no position to be searching for a new job right now.  He was on the verge of begging for his job back but what you’d heard from the back office was Eddie telling him not to ‘pull that shit again’ and to ‘get back to work’.  No further discussions or arguments on the topic ensued since that day.

The chilly Autumn air brushed against your cheeks upon stepping out the door, not too much of a bite to it yet but enough to warrant a slight shiver.  The sun had already set just over an hour ago, darkness already enclosing the surrounding world.  It felt empty and devoid of life, but not in an apocalyptic way, but rather in a serene kind of way.  It was quiet except for the whisper of leaves of the birch trees in the wind.

This place still felt so far from home and your loneliness was still as prominent as ever.  You worked, went home, slept, woke up at around 10:00 AM, fixed breakfast, attempted to go back to sleep, failed and sometimes visited Donnie at the supermarket, and repeated.  The routine was sad and you might as well have been a grouchy old woman that no one spoke to or went near, not a twenty something year old who should be making the most out of her life.  The locals weren’t unfriendly, you just couldn’t seem to fit in.  Jett was the closest thing you had to a ‘friend’, although he was your coworker and some may see it as mandatory that he remains friendly with you.  Outside of work you had little to no interaction with others, usually opting to stay in and clean or watch reruns of some shows you had pre-recorded on a collection of VHS tapes.  It’s not to say you didn’t enjoy your nights in, you just wished you had the option to call someone up to hang out or make plans every now and then.

Ten minutes flew by like it was seconds, the door leading inside swinging open unexpectedly and smacking against the concrete wall, Eddie’s head poking out in search of you.  

“Excuse me, do you work here?”  He asks sarcastically.

You control the urge to roll your eyes, having a better sense of his antics in the past two weeks and knowing that no real consequences would apply to you under these circumstances.  You still maintain the need to react to his dramatics and remind him that you were helping him out just as much as he was helping you.  But you push it down and straighten your posture.

“Yes.”  You reply, eyes staring up at him with a hint of resistance.

“Could’ve had me fooled.”  He snaps, ducking back inside.

Following him, you finally give into the urge to roll your eyes behind his back.

“I timed my break just right.”  You notify him, glancing at your watch.  “I was about to come back.”

“You’re a minute late.”

Instead of allowing you a chance to argue with him, he jumps right back into action and starts clearing off a vacant table.  The rush hadn’t stopped all night, table after table being cleared only to immediately seat a new party.

After he strides off with a pile of glasses and a few plates, you get to work on wiping everything clean.  It was a newfound system, a plan that hadn’t been agreed on by either of you but was understood regardless.  With how understaffed the bar was, it worked like a charm.  

Jett’s main role was behind the bar but every now and then he would catch onto whenever you and Eddie were running behind and he would swoop in to take care of a table or two.  Recently, you learned that the other bartender, Pete, had quit and skipped town about a week before your arrival, making it that much harder to keep up with the demand of the customers who regularly chose The Bourbon to decompress at.  So now it was only you, Eddie, Jett, and Randy running the whole place.  It turned out not to be too bad of a gig, weeknights were slow enough and Sundays the bar was closed, leaving Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays as the busiest nights of the week.  The tips were decent enough as well.

Especially from those creepy old men which was an unfortunate situation you could do without but hey, it helped pay the bills.  If you ignored their advances and didn’t completely reject them, they’d leave behind a nice tip.  It felt icky, pocketing the money but the more you thought about it, the more compelled you felt to take their money.  If they were going to waste your time, you might as well be compensated for it.

One man in particular had been lurking at one of the corner tables, purposely opting out of the bar seating to instead have a higher chance of you waiting on him.  He must have been in his sixties and had an unnerving stare that just made you want to hide back in the kitchen.  You failed to inform Eddie, simply because he didn’t need further reason to see you as dainty or incapable of holding your own.  

So you gulped down your fear and put the blinders on as best you could.  

Just take his order and get it over with.  Then you can move on with your night and hopefully he’ll be out of here soon.

And right off the bat, his disgusting mouth started running.  Something about ‘can a pretty little thing like you get me a drink?’.  Then a few more unsolicited nicknames with a smirk and some remark about how good your body looked.  Something you didn’t care to hold onto in your mind, you only felt the need to take a shower.

As you rounded the corner of the bar and got to work making the pervert’s drink, you found yourself lost in thought.  Thoughts about if he found out where you lived, you may be done for.  It was a small town after all and it wouldn’t be difficult.  

“Hey, you good?”  Jett asks, shaker in hand, concern obvious in his knit eyebrows.

“What?”  You’re pulled out of your mind, shaking your head as if to lure yourself back to reality.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”  You assure him.

He nods but his expression shows that he’s not very convinced.  You finish off the drink you’d been absentmindedly making, a scotch on the rocks while offering Jett one more reassuring smile before making your way out from behind the bar.

Like you were throwing yourself back into the lion’s den, you approach the man’s table, hoping to quickly drop off his drink and be on your way.  If only life were ever so kind to you.    

“Thank you, sweetheart.”  A disgusting grin paints his face and just before you can mumble an ‘mhm’ and rush off, an unwelcome hand gropes your ass, sliding down, down, down.  You can’t see his face but you know he displays the most revolting smirk following his actions.

With a yelp followed by a gasp, you freeze.  Paralyzed, you aren’t sure how to move forward, how do you recover from being reduced to a piece of meat?  Flesh to be gawked at and held onto without permission.  An object to be handled.

“I-I’m sorry but—“  You begin to stumble over your words but never get the chance to say much more when the sound of a chair screeching against the wood floors, arguably worse than nails on a chalkboard, is heard behind you.

Upon turning around, you’re met with the sight of your boss shoving the repulsive man toward the door by the collar of his mustard stained shirt.  Eddie's strength shows despite his lean figure, appearing to have no trouble in maneuvering the man where he wants him against the door.

“What the fuck was that?”  Eddie bites, nostrils flaring as his cheeks seem to heat with a hue of red.

“Listen—“

The man’s hands are thrown up in surrender but it’s apparent that wasn’t the true intent behind his actions.  An excuse was on the tip of his tongue before Eddie cut him off, not an ounce of patience left.

“What.  The.  Fuck.  Was that?”  He repeats, grip tightening on the shirt collar, face inching closer to the man as a means of intimidation.

“Just a little flirting, she was into it.”

You can’t help but grimace at the pathetic attempt to cover up what had actually happened.  And it seemed that Eddie didn’t take too well to that answer either, further pushing the man into the door if even possible.  The scene had drawn the attention of almost the whole bar, a sea of eyeballs glued to the altercation about to happen, your very being flushed from embarrassment from the mere idea of being the source of all of it.  Had you walked away quicker, it would’ve gone unnoticed and you could’ve gone on with your night, leaving everyone else undisturbed.

“Yeah?”  Eddie cocks his head to the side, his chest heaving.  “Didn’t seem like she was into it to me.”  

“She was—“

“I wasn’t fuckin’ asking.  She wasn’t into it.”  

If looks could kill, the guy would be erased from existence with no trace of life left behind on Eddie’s account.  His big brown eyes showcased pure rage, a distinct difference from the annoyance and the fiery glare he’d cast on you every so often, especially when you would forget to pile up the dishes his way.  No, this was far more devastating and should you one day be the recipient of his aggressive stare, you’d be reduced to tears on the spot.

“Now you’re gonna get the hell out of my bar.  I never wanna see you again—“

“Listen man, I’m not—“

“I’m fucking talking.”  Eddie growls.  “You get the hell out of here and never come back, you hear me?  And you better fucking hope I don’t catch you pulling some shit like that again, I will kick your goddamn teeth in.”  He promises.

Confrontations like this were not something you were familiar with, always running off before things got too far.  You suppose that’s why people feel it was okay to use you as a doormat.  It always feels easier to drop it and walk away, ‘be the bigger person’ or whatever they say.  Even if it actually meant making you feel like the smallest person on earth.

All the back and forth and frequent swears with intention of aggravation had labored your breathing, your chest struggling to allow movement, feeling like a straw was delivering air to your lungs.  Just when you’d attempt to swallow a big enough breath of air, it would all go to waste and only provide just enough oxygen to get by.  A cold sweat threatened to spill from your hairline, your palms clammy to match.  The murmurs and whispers of witnesses had your eyes darting from person to person, suddenly all too aware of the life you were living.

Too human.  

You don’t remember another word exchanged between the two men and you certainly don’t remember how you managed to claw your way to the bathroom amidst the turmoil.  But here you were, staring into the dingy mirror with no purpose other than to escape.  And it wasn’t working.  Suddenly the lights were too bright and the room was too small, but it was secluded and that's what mattered.  Having some kind of an episode in front of the entire bar would be far worse, having an episode alone where prying eyes cannot dissect your every movement and reason for being is the better option.  It wasn’t often that your mind went to this extent when being faced with a challenging situation but when it did, you didn’t find it easy to come out of.

You heard your name floating somewhere in the bleach scented air but couldn’t quite bring yourself back enough to recognize who required your attention.  There was a head peeking in at the door after some frequent knocking and though you kept insisting you were okay and just to give you a few minutes, the individual seemed to have reason not to believe you.  

“Hey, Ed!”  He called behind him.  It was Jett.  A sweet and scared out of his mind Jett from what you could decipher through squinted eyes and blurred vision.  He was obviously being faced with unfamiliar territory, I mean who is ever prepared to talk someone down from an anxiety attack in the middle of a shift?  Panic was evident in his voice just as much as it was evident in your whole body.

“Eddie, I need some help!”  He yells again.  “Hey, you okay?  What happened?  Do you need–”

“Move over.”  You hear Eddie mumble before the door swings open, the hinges squeaking painfully.  “You’re asking too many questions.”  

With a swift shut of the door, Jett hurries back to attend to the several customers awaiting service.

“Listen to me, Bambi.  You gotta breathe.”  His voice is smooth, a huge contrast to what you’d just heard moments ago. 

When your legs begin to feel wobbly, as if you were a calf taking its first steps, you slowly lower yourself to the ground, a sturdy hand wrapping around your upper arm to support you.  

“In.”  Eddie inhales, though you can only hear him since your eyes are shut so tightly, your eyelids might rip.  “Out.”  He exhales.  “C’mon, breathe in–”

“Is she oka—”

“Jett, fuck off for a minute.  Please.”  Eddie begs, clearly fed up before returning to his newfound gentle tone.  “Can you look at me?”  He diverts his attention back to you, Jett taking the hint and shutting the door, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Eyes squeezed shut, you shake your head.  Your body shakes involuntarily, the anxiety becoming even worse when you try to contain it, like it wants to jump out and strangle you.

“Okay, okay.”  He attempts to soothe.  “You wanna get some air?”  He asks just above a whisper.

“I-I dunno.  ‘M sorry.”  You manage to choke out, sniffling.

“Okay, no big deal.”  He sighs, running a hand down his face, not out of irritation but more so exhaustion.  “Let’s get you outside, it’s too hot in here.”  

Before you can protest, he’s wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting the majority of your weight against him, walking you out of the bathroom and out the door into the alley.  The chilly air bites at your skin and thankfully, reality slowly starts to return again.  

“Try breathing again, in and out.”  Eddie encourages.  

You nod, jaw locked tightly both from the cold and from the paralyzing anxiety coursing through your veins.  Your teeth feel as if they could crack at any second, the pressure from you biting down too immense but you can’t bring yourself to unhinge your jaw.

“In.”  Eddie coaches, exaggerating a large breath, his chest rising with the motion.  “Out.”  He exhales through his mouth, his breath visible in the air.

He continues the breathing exercise a few more times, you following carefully as things become clear again.  And from all that had just happened, all you could gather was that you were a huge baby who couldn’t handle a rogue customer.  You weren’t capable of holding things down when it got rough.  

Pathetic.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know–I don’t know what happened–”  You try to make sense of it all, failing miserably.

“What happened was some pervert copped a feel and we don’t play around with that shit here.”  

Anger is obvious within his expression, even more so when he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one hastily.

“Did you…”  

The question is on the tip of your tongue however, you won’t let yourself say it at the risk of sounding even more like an injured bird.  

“What?”  He asks, kicking around a few pebbles, the cigarette hanging from his lip before he brings his fingers up to grab it and inhale.  His brows are knit together, still beyond bothered by the dispute that just occurred.  

“Nevermind.”  You mumble.

His gaze meets yours, lashes casting perfect shadows just over his cheek bones in the warm lighting of the street lamp and once again, among all the darkness that pools in those chocolatey irises, there is a twinkle.  Barely noticeable but still there.  

“What?”  He urges again, voice monotone.

“Did you…did he…?”

“Did I fuck him up?”  He asks, brows raised.

You nod bashfully, a hint of fear flashing in your eyes.

“No.”  Eddie scoffs.  “I should’ve though.”  He flicks the ash from his cigarette toward the ground.  “Motherfucker.”  He mumbles.  

“Why didn’t you then?”

It was too forward and you had no business asking.  Really, it just tumbled out, off of your tongue, barely a thought behind it before it was too late.  Now you were just asking for a reaction, not a good one at that.

“It was either that or let Bambi suffocate in the bathroom.  Gotta pick your battles.”  He gestures toward you, shrugging.  

It wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, you were bracing for a bigger explosion.  Waiting for him to tell you to get back to work and to stop asking questions.  But he didn’t.  He just continued to kick little pebbles around on the pavement, his boot scuffing along the surface as he smoked.  He looked relaxed for once.

“Oh.”  You reply, staring down at your own shoes.  “I-I’m sorry.” 

“Is apologizing like…your hobby?”  He questions, shoving his other hand into his pocket.

“Well–uh no, no–”

“I love that you’re out here having bonding time but I’m a one man show in there and I need some supporting acts.”  Jett interrupts, the door creating a gust of wind and then flooding you with temporary warmth from the air inside.  “I at least need Eddie.”  He pleads.

Nodding frantically, you begin to make your way back inside, Jett already speeding off to resume his duties.

“Hey, you okay to go back in there?”  Eddie asks, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out.  “You can take another minute–”

“I’m fine.”  You insist.  He didn’t need further evidence that you were frail and incapable.  Whether it was intentional or not, he had bruised your sliver of self-confidence.

–

The rush was finally over, the last of it being a party of ten which left a table full of dishes to be delivered to the kitchen for washing.  Each plate was stacked in your palms, piled high as you worked one hand out from underneath to add on a few cups, cutting down on the amount of trips you would need to make.  You’d blocked out the vile events that occurred earlier in the night, at least until you had time to cry about it to yourself which when working at The Bourbon, there was never time for that.  So it would have to wait until the drive home.  Maybe you’d even save it for the shower where you could truly release all of your emotions in peace, no judging eyes or risk of a car accident.

Successfully stacking a few cups among the tower of plates, you spin on your heel, making your way toward the kitchen as the others cleaned up, Jett wiping down the bar and kicking out the lingering drunks, and Eddie cleaning up the mess that the pool table had become.  It was 1:00 AM and if everyone did their part, you’d be out of here by at least 1:30.  Tensions had been high all night, one inconvenience after another occurring, only adding onto everyone’s stress and only giving more incentive to clean quicker and go home.  A broken glass here, a messed up order there.

The kitchen door is just in reach and when you push into it with your shoulder, all of your calculations fail, the pile of plates collapsing as they hit the door frame rather than dodging it like you intended.  Each plate crashes against the floor, shattering into pieces, a few of the cups also breaking on impact.  It was the icing on the cake of a bad night, the final straw and your reason to burst into tears and yet you don’t.  

Not yet.

Not here.

A total of four eyeballs watch in shock, two more joining in as Randy, the cook peeks out from the kitchen door.  Though the tears didn’t burst from your eyes quite yet, they did sting, they stung horribly.  You could feel them brimming at your waterline, just a centimeter away from trickling down your cheek and exposing you as the biggest crybaby in the world.  If it wasn’t already apparent.

Do not cry.

And if it wasn’t already bad enough, Eddie seemed to completely reverse his gentle attitude you’d become suddenly accustomed to earlier.

“What the hell.”  He glares, slowly approaching as he sets a few glasses back down on the pool table.  “Do you watch where you’re going?  Do you have eyes?”  He asks.

You don’t dare answer, frozen in place as your nerves tingle in panic once again.  You don’t feel real.  You feel as if your spirit has risen from your body and is watching over the conversation playing out.

“Now I’m out what–ten or so plates?  Do you know what it costs–”

“Eddie.”  Jett tries to take control of the situation, taking notice of your watering eyes.  And unfortunately so does Eddie.

“What–oh, you’re gonna cry?  What did I tell you?  I told you this job wasn’t for someone like you.”  Eddie snaps.

He was bitter, unpleasantly bitter like a shitty cup of coffee.

“Eddie, stop it.”  Jett tries to defend you, though you wish you could defend yourself so you didn’t seem so pathetic.

“I told you I can’t babysit you–”

“I know.”  You manage to quietly sob, bending down to start collecting the broken pieces.  There’s an awkward moment of silence, the air thick with tension and anticipation of more insults.  All you can do is wait.

“Just leave it, just–leave it.”  Eddie sighs, running a hand through his bangs.  “Just go home.”

The demand isn’t necessarily an insult like you’d imagined but it still feels backhanded.  Like he was telling you ‘I told you so’ and rubbing it in your face.  As if he gave you a chance with the means of preparing for this moment, the moment you fucked up even slightly.

“I’m gonna get the broom.”  Jett says, eyes wide as he scampers to the back.

Staring up at Eddie, large pieces of plate collected in your hand, all you can make out in his eyes is outrage.  Downplayed outrage that hadn’t fully escaped yet and you didn’t want to hang around long enough to witness it.  He was capable of much more than he was letting on.

“If you can’t handle–”

“You know Eddie, you’re just mean.  You’re being mean.”  You declare through a frown, internally screaming at yourself to keep it together, to not let a tear spill over.  He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of watching you cry.

“Did you know you never even asked for my name?”  You swipe underneath your eyes, catching any tears that longed to trail down your cheeks, displaying your distress, instead wiping them on your apron.

His unkind stare lets up, eyes softening ever so slightly.  

Too late.

“I’m not a person to you.”  You drop the shards from your hands, standing up to head toward the back for your things.

“Wait–”

If he kept talking, you didn’t stick around to hear it.  You scooped up your bag from the rusting lockers toward the back of the kitchen, tucked away in a corner before striding to the front, toward the bar.  If he thought you were some kind of an entitled brat that needed babysitting then you were going to give him more than he bargained for.  Granted, you weren’t thinking straight either, the stress of the night only adding up and creating an outburst you would otherwise bottle up.

Grabbing a shot glass from under the bar, you reach for one of the nicer tequilas, something smoother that wouldn’t burn as much.  Tequila always put you in a good mood and never gave you a hangover.  Filling the shot glass, you don’t even bother looking over at Eddie or Jett, who was now sweeping broken plates into a dustpan.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  Eddie hurries over, staring you down.  All you offer him in response is a shrug before tossing the liquor back.

Refilling the glass, you sneak a glance over at him from across the counter, his jaw dropped in shock and his face red and flushed with anger.  Steam was nearly shooting out of his ears.  The second shot is thrown back and your muscles begin to relax, anxieties melting away even at the basis of creating more problems.

If that wasn’t enough for him, you finished it off with a third shot, hoping it wouldn’t be too much all at once.  You were brave enough to look right into his eyes, daring him to say the wrong thing.  

“What are you doing?”  He asks again, calmer but still heated.

“I’m just acting how you think I should.”  You answer, a fake smile painted across your lips.

“I’m not comping those.”

His focus burns into you, lips in a tight line as he watches.  If looks could kill.  For the second time that night.  Except this time, you were on the receiving end and had you not been three shots in, it would’ve terrified you and had you apologizing profusely.

“Well, I’m not paying for them.”  You say, pouring yourself one more for good measure, swallowing it like it was water.

As you go to make your big exit, you’re faced with a harsh reality.  You’re definitely drunk, or at least very close to being drunk as the alcohol consumes your body, and you’re definitely not driving home like this.  You did not think this through.  But you kept walking anyway through the kitchen and out to the back just to lean against the concrete wall pathetically.  You were starting to wish that you’d gulped down some water before leaving to aid in sobering up.

If the sight of you leaning against the wall behind a bar at 1:12 AM wasn’t sad enough, tack on the fact that you had finally let the waterworks flow, your drunk self especially susceptible to your muddled emotions.  

“Bambi, what the fuck.  You gonna drive?”  Eddie emerges from the kitchen door leading outside, seemingly cooled down but you still don’t trust it.

“Don’t call ‘m Bambi.”  You slur. 

“What are you doing out here?”  He ignores your protest.

“‘Jus gimme a few minutes.”  You whine, eyes shut as if it would make him disappear.

“No, not a few minutes.  You’re not driving.”

You never intended on driving but you were finding it difficult to fight him off in your discombobulated state, willing to say anything to get him to leave.  Obviously he had the upper hand at this moment, clearly able to outsmart you.

“I know.”  You wail, tears on full display for him.

“I’ll drive you, let me get my keys.”  

“Nooo, wha ‘bout Jett?”  You ask, wiping away your tears, mascara coating your fingertips.

“Jett doesn't live right next door to you, you’d just be making him go out of his way for no reason.”

Snot dripping from your nose, you glare up at him, earning an expectant stare from him.  All you can do is roll your eyes, too drunk to care anymore.  You still preferred having Jett go out of his way, at least he respected you as a person.  But the argument was lost among gargled thoughts and a short term memory.

“Still mean.”  You insult, finger poking at his chest harshly.  It doesn’t do much.

It feels like hours that you two are staring at each other, likely due to the alcohol running through your system.  He hesitates in running back inside, even if just for a few seconds to grab his keys, his eyes looking you over in concern.  A muttered ‘be right back’ is heard and then he’s gone.

The stars catch your attention, drastically brighter than they would be back home, many more of them too.  A few stand out, gleaming in the sky and making them that much more admirable.  Your mind drifts off to thoughts of the Milky Way, swirling around the universe and ultimately making you feel infinitely smaller and more insignificant.  

What was your place?

Eddie steps back out, keys twirling around his fingers, straight-faced, not an ounce of amusement in his handsome features.  Glancing at him briefly, you then tilt your head back up toward the sky, dazed and almost in a trance.  If you weren’t careful, you could’ve been staring at him like that.  But you weren’t that drunk.  

Or so you thought.

Thinking about it, you must have been the spitting image of insane; mascara smeared across your face, tears glimmering in the moonlight, and your bottom lip set in a perfect pout like a child waiting to get their way.  Your bag was twisted around your body in the most uncomfortable way but you couldn’t find it in you to untwist it and realistically, you should be wearing your jacket but instead its clutched in your fist, the cold pricking at your skin and eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms.  The chattering of your teeth interrupted the silence and played as the soundtrack of your hazy daydreaming.  

It also let Eddie know that he needed to either force you to put your jacket on, or get you in the car.  And he knew he wouldn’t win that first battle so ushering you to the passenger seat it was.  

“C’mon.”  Is all he says, huffing out a breath.

You vaguely recall being helped into the passenger’s side but you don’t remember walking a few yards to actually reach the car or if you were even able to do so on your own.  From what you could tell in your state, his car was a beaten up thing, kinda old but it smelled like those little pine tree air fresheners.  

Once the scenery outside started to move, all thoughts subsided, the only one left was solely to keep yourself from vomiting all over your boss’s car.  You would stoop as low as to drink his most expensive tequila but vomiting all over his carpeted floor was another low you wouldn’t dream of wishing upon anybody.  

Trees zoomed by and you were sure you were going cross eyed from trying to keep up with each and every one.  Some metal song plays through the speakers but in your own little world, you hardly hear it, still subconsciously bobbing your head to the fading beat.

One minute you were sitting content in your dream land, the next Eddie was shoving something into your hands while urgently pulling over.  Your mind hadn’t caught up to what was happening yet however, you could vaguely make out Eddie yelling at you to aim for the bag while you stared directly into said bag.  When you glanced over at him, everything felt as if it were in slow motion and again, he was panicking while yelling at you to ‘puke in the bag!’.

The perfect cocktail of a situation for an individual so reserved and so inexperienced with this much attention.  At least most of it would be a blur by morning.

–

“There you go, just grab my–shoulder!  Ow!”  Eddie complains, your fingers a bit too comfortable with digging into his skin through his cotton shirt as you attempt to hoist yourself up into a standing position from the passenger seat.  

Home was only steps away and then you could collapse wherever you pleased.  Forget about this stupid night.  At least until you awakened as your regularly anxious self.  You’d have a few hours of drunken bliss to forget about life but that’s all you were allowed.  Then you would need to face your consequences, whatever they may be.  Come the morning, you most likely wouldn’t have a job anymore, Eddie would probably come knocking at your door and let you know that you blew it.  And he’d probably laugh in your face at the fact that you proved yourself to be too weak, too dainty, as he so adamantly proclaimed before.

“Oh no.”  You mumble, feeling yourself wobbling, knees giving out underneath you.

“Whoa, whoa, okay!  You’re fine, you’re fine.”  Eddie stabilizes you, arms around your waist.

Your limbs might as well be Jello at this point, rendering you a useless human unable to even stumble to your destination.  It dawns on you that you can’t remember if you even actually puked in the car or not.  Was it coating his interior or had you shoved your head in the bag just in time to spew your guts?  Or did you bravely swallow it down?  Whatever the case, Eddie doesn’t seem to currently have any grievances or any trouble touching you so you must have been somewhat responsible about it.

Your weight depends on him, leaning into his chest as he practically carries you toward the house.  Your eyes flutter repeatedly and—your question of whether you had already puked or not is quickly answered as the contents of your stomach spill out and onto his shirt before you’re able to aim for the ground.  Humiliation was starting to look like your middle name.

As you dry heave and allow a long string of saliva to drip from your mouth while hunched over in the dirt, you hear Eddie muttering several curses.  You think for sure he’s going to ditch you for creating such a stir up throughout the night until his boots come into view in front of you, his hand pulling the hair away from your face as you finish emptying your stomach.

“Okay.”  He sighs.  “Puke it out.”  A hesitant hand smoothes over your back, the lightest touch.

The smell of putrid vomit invades his nose, nausea threatening to take over him as well if he didn’t hold his breath.  Try as he may to ignore the chunks of god knows what on his shirt, it was still all that was on his mind.  He didn’t even want to chance looking down if there was the slightest possibility that it had also gotten in his hair.  Even being covered in your sick, he knows he should be fuming.  But he’s not and it's all so puzzling.  

You marched your ass behind his bar and consumed more tequila than you could handle which in turn forced him to drive you home and then you vomited all over him.  If that’s not enough reason to be pissed beyond belief then he doesn’t know what is.  Yet he remains calm and collected, running his hand between your shoulder blades as he soothes you throughout your dry heaving and gagging.

“It won’t–oh god–it won’t stop.”  You sob, looking up at him, a mixture of snot, tears, and saliva coating the lower half of your face.

You look repulsive and yet he can’t tear his eyes away from you.  The prettiest definition of repulsive he’d ever seen.

“Don’t hold it back, let it all out.  You’re only gonna feel like shit if you hold any of it in.”  He instructs, kneeling down to meet your eye level.

With a few sniffles and hiccups, you nod.  Only now you’re hyper aware of being watched.  It was a sobering experience, puking right in front of your house, not able to even make it to the nearest toilet while your boss spectates and–oh.  

It hits you that the front of his shirt is caked in your puke, bile soaking the fabric while remnants of your late lunch displays itself on his perfect black shirt.  You would never live this down and you would certainly never work another shift at The Bourbon again.  Even if he did scream at you for no good reason, you took it a few levels too far.

“Y-your shirt, oh no–”

“Relax, okay, Bambi?  I can handle a little puke, now where’s your key?”  He asks.  

It’s not that he could handle a little puke, he had to.  Because what good would it do if the two of you were both throwing up in your front yard?

Attempting to answer him, the rest of your stomach interrupts and unexpectedly spews all over his combat boots.  As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

“Shit.”  He mutters under his breath.

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry.”  You whimper, glassy eyes staring up at him with regret.  “I din’t mean it, I swear, m’ just–”

“I know.”  Eddie exhales.  “You done puking, is there anything else left in there?”

Shaking your head in sorrow, a few more hiccups escape your lungs but there are no further signs that you’re going to be sick again.  Even if you were, it didn’t matter anymore, Eddie was already well acquainted with your vomit, what harm would a little more do at this point?

As you start shuffling through your bag and patting at your pockets, panic settles in and you can only recall that the last place you’d seen your keys was at the bar, where you set them down to spitefully gulp down as much tequila as you could.  Now it was biting you in the ass, hard.

“Left my keys at the bar.”  You pout pitifully. 

Eddie glares at you, rightfully so.  The man was covered in foul smelling vomit, kneeling on the ground, taking care of you.

“Fucking christ.”  He mumbles.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean@micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

[malewifesband]

Here is a Labru fic I wrote over the last week or so. Post-canon. Extremely sexually explicit, 18+ only please. Trans male Kabru, and yes, Laios is a little chasery about it--be honest, you should expect this of him. 7.5k words.

Summary: With Marcille and Falin both gone temporarily from the castle*, Kabru and Laios have had a high workload, and the stress has started to get to them. Kabru has an ingenious solution to relieve stress, but Laios is not so sure it's a good idea: his feelings for Kabru are confused enough without adding the concept of platonic dick-touching to the mix.

*Will be followed up on in its own fic.

This and future fics will be filed under the tag #the compendium; because I dont like any fanfic sites.

Lots of things seemed to demand Laios' time: a deluge of common folk with grievances and indignant nobles angry at their recent vassalage and farm owners who didn't like whatever ordinance Laois had passed to increase food production because they didn't want to milk minotaurs and still more peasants complaining about the farmer he just saw, and on and on, forever, without end, it would rain pissed off subjects for forty days and forty nights and Laios could drown in the all the information they wanted him to track. Kingship was a nightmare.

He could and would say it was worth the pain to see when his plans succeed and happy faces of people whose lives were improved, but in honesty what actually made it bearable was the company and help of Falin, Marcille, and Kabru. Falin and Marcille were wonderful court mages and fantastic researchers, who made all his stupid ideas into real, actionable policy, and Kabru… Kabru helped him get even that far. It was incredible how quickly he would catch onto complex social dynamics and dissect them, remix them into something Laios could parse, and whisper it to him on the throne. All without missing the next beat.

And for the past month, he’s been over-relying on Kabru, and neither of them have been able to get away from the castle. Marcille and Falin have been having a rough patch, and decided they needed time together away from the castle. Which of course, Laios let them go take a vacation–he owed them that much. But while they've been away, tensions have exploded. The resurfacing of the Golden Continent has lead to droughts across the land as crop fields used to an abundance of rain from the coastline suddenly found themselves far inland, and foreign land holders were demanding compensation, and of course their rulers backed them as it meant they would not have to pay to feed the victims of an impending famine. (And no one seemed willing to farm monsters to eat despite their abundance. Close-minded jerks–it’s a necessity!)

The ordeal has been taxing on them both, and Maybe Kabru more than Laios. He’d been taking dinner in his quarters the last two days, and he's been standing about a foot further from the throne than he was before. Odd little distances from Laios he didn't take before. Laios feels like he's barely seen him in a week. He’d reminded him to eat and sleep plenty, and Kabru insisted that he had been. Laios wasn't sure what else he could really do.

A line of delegates had been leaving the dining room, a late meeting over dinner that perhaps no one wanted to have, one night when Kabru leaned in again, just as the door closed, and said, “Laios, can I talk to you about something, man to man?”

Laios was not sure how else they were meant ro talk, being as they were both men and thus couldn't talk, say, woman to woman or dog to dog, but he replied, “Sure, what's up?”

Kabru’s face darkened. “Not here. Let's talk in your chambers. I’ll meet you there in 30 minutes.”

It didn't feel like a long wait. He’d only really started to settle down when Kabru knocked at the door.

“Come in,” He called, kicking off his boots. Kabru entered, smiled at him, and then turned to bolt the door behind him. He took a deep breath and turned back to face Laios.

“You know I love this job,” he says.

“That’s great–” Laios starts to exclaim, but Kabru holds up a finger to silence him

“BUT. I have no time for women anymore, and it's been… frustrating.”

“What about Rin? She's a woman,” he said. She was pretty and they seemed pretty close.

“That's very true, Laois, Rin is a woman, but she's also like a sister to me. I could never date her.”

“Do you want time off?” He couldn't imagine running things without him, and Yaad insists that because he doesn't know how long he'll last in this world, that he should refrain from interfering so they do not depend too much on his service when he finally passes… Surely though, he’d be okay with filling in for Kabru for a couple of days? Maybe best not to tell him it's so Kabru can go on dates.

“No, it's not a real solution,” he says. He takes a deep breath, and his face flushes, getting darker again. “I don't think I could get away enough to meet my needs, I’d still be sexually frustrated.”

People get mad at you if you suggest they just go to a brothel for an hour or so, so Laios doesn't say that. Instead he tries, “You could invite a girl over for dinner, that seems like a cool date: dinner in a castle!”

The flush darkened.

“That's too serious. I’m not really looking for a girlfriend right now, not with how much work there is to do.” He averted his eyes from Laios' face, and crossed his arms.

“We could have an informal dinner–”

“Laios.” he said, firmly, like calling on a misbehaving dog. Something about that thought made Laios' heart flutter.”I’m trying to ask something of you. Please don't make any suggestions yet.”

He looked sweaty.

“Okay.”

He took another deep breath.

“I think it'd be easiest if we masturbated each other.”

Woah. Laois’ face fell into shock, open mouthed and wide-eyed like a fish gasping on deck.

“C-couldn't you just do that alo–”

Once again, Kabru cut him off, this time by touching his elbow.

“You’ve been pent up too,” he said softly, a small smile on his face, which had an odd effect with him still being flushed and sweaty.

Laios had been trying to pay attention to Kabru the way Kabru pays attention to others (it seemed fair to do that for him when he does it for everyone else), and so he knew this was the manner he talked to people he wanted to convince of something they already said they didn't want. In 15 instances of him doing this, Laios had seen him succeed 11 times. It seemed to work by making himself seem nonthreatening–he leans forward in a way that makes him smaller and exposes the neck, and his voice becomes quieter, almost like a purr, and he always smiles but never broadly in a way that shows his teeth.

He was starting to wonder how instance 16 would turn out. So he went quiet while Kabru went on.

“You’ve been as moody as I have, and I know what incredible stress you've been under with Marcille and Falin away, and your other friends unable to visit… We need to find a way for you to relax, and I promise it’ll be more satisfying if you let someone else touch you.”

That much, Laios knew, was true. Like trying to give yourself a hug, there was a certain sensation that was lacking–maybe the warmth of another person, or the fact that you can feel both the skin of your hand and the skin of your penis/body pressed together that makes it less powerful. He didn't have a ton of experience though, none of it with other men–though maybe that was for the best, since Kabru was not like other men and Laios was unsure what exactly to expect from him, genitally speaking. And all of his experiences had been transactional. And not that great.

Honestly, trying to navigate this strange social experience sounded far more stressful than a good orgasm could relieve. Just the thought of trying to figure out where to put his hands and at what point is it sex and can you have sex with your friends and just be friends and and and–

The hand at his elbow slid up to his bicep, and Kabru's other hand slipped around his opposite wrist.

“Tell me what's on your mind, Laios,” he said, gentle and firm.

“Do you have a cock? I’ve never held another man's cock and wouldn't it just be sex either way?” he answered all in a rush, heat rising from his neck to the tops of his ears. Kabru's grip tightened and then relaxed again.

“Yes and no to both,” he said.

“Wait, yes or no to which?”

“Yes and no to both,” he repeated, “If I have a cock depends on what you're asking for, and it's only sex if we say it is and we are saying it's not! It's not as complicated as you're making it out to be.”

Laios disagreed–this was already complicated. It seemed it would only get more complicated if they went through with it. And maybe even more complicated than that if they didn't after this conversation.

“I’ll be gentle, Laios, you're not the first virgin I’ve been with,” he said with a little laugh.

“Hm? I’m not a virgin,” Laios stated.

Kabru's eyes widened a bit, eyebrows raised.

“You… aren't? You had a girlfriend?”

Laios shook his head. “I had a fiancee, but I didn't really know her.”

Kabru exhaled loudly.

“You know what, it doesn't matter. You just need to tell me if you want to try it out.”

Laois really wasn't sure. Something about the whole concept seemed off, but maybe it was just that it felt so sudden and out of the blue. Maybe Kabru had been thinking about it a while, and this really was his best solution. He pictured Kabru calm and content, like how he looks when he takes his tea in the morning before the stress of the day creeps in. If it was really what would make him happy, it didn't seem right to deny him.

“Kabru…” he said low, unsure how to voice what was on his mind.

Kabru's hand slid into his. It was warm. Comforting.

“Yes?”

“Is this really what you want? You're not just asking me because you think I’d want it?”

This question was apparently very funny. He chuckled, then let his face spread into a grin, and laughed heartily. His hand stayed in Laois' and the one at his bicep grabbed at his shoulder now as if to support him.

“I am doing my best to convince you this is a good idea, and you're worried I just think you want it! Do you see how silly that sounds?” he said once his giggle fit wore down.

“I guess,” Laios replied, “But you lied about wanting to eat monsters.”

“I wasn't the one convincing you to eat them, though.”

“I still don't get how it's not just sex though.”

“Think of it as platonic sex between friends if you must then, just don't go telling people we're having sex or they'll get the wrong idea. Actually, please just keep this secret in general.”

Why does sex always have to be some secret thing no one should know about?

Content that Kabru really did want to have not-sex with him (and now discontented with many other things), Laios was ready to give his answer: “Okay, we can do this.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Kabru started leading him to the bed.

“Oh you meant now,” he said.

“Did you… did you want to wait?” Kabru said cautiously. Their hands were still held together. Warm. Comforting. If none of the rest of this was fun, Laios would like to start holding hands with him more at least.

“Now is as good a time as any,” he answered.

“Because it’d make you nervous anticipating it otherwise.”

It wasn't a question, because if Kabru says something about what you think, it's usually because you did and he knows it. And it would make Laois nervous, sitting on his throne, listening to all those people, and having Kabru lean over him all day knowing what they'd be doing later. Which makes it sound very erotic, too. But in that romantic story way where you can just skip over the part where you have to do a lot that day and it'd be weird and honestly kind of strenuous to just be horny all day long: i.e. not actually all that erotic.

Then again, that last hour of waiting…

“Laios, sit on the bed, please.”

He sat on the bed as commanded, while Kabru put out the lights. Perhaps the dark made it less like sex. He left one dim candle and returned.

There was a poof as Kabru sank into the feather mattress beside him. It was quiet for a second.

It felt like Laios should say something, but what? It felt like all the thoughts had emptied from his brain, it was overwhelming, something was about to happen and it felt as dark inside his head as it did in the room. Like a flickering something in the back of his skull that he couldn't look straight at or it would blind him, but it was too dim to reveal anything else on its own.

“I’m going to undress. You should too, let's not overtax the launderer.”

Commands were good. He could follow commands. He stripped off his doublet and shirt sleeves–he had already ditched his finery as soon as he could get away with it–and started unlacing his breeches. His eyes were quickly adjusting to the dim glow, and now he could see Kabru’s outline.

His shirt was off, and he was bent double to remove his own shoes, showing off his back. He was lean, but you could see the strength in him, like a runner or a gymnast. He sat up, shoes tossed aside, and suddenly bucked his hips, and his pants and underwear dragged down his legs. With a little kick, they too lay discarded in the dark and leaving Kabru’s crotch exposed. Thick pubic hair shined there, but no external genitalia that Laios could see, at least not at this angle.

He was actually very curious about it. Certain monsters endogenously change their sex, such as Basilisks and some varieties of Merrow, under certain environmental or social pressures. Sometimes even due to unique genetics not found in others of their species! Kabru had said that he’d been taking a masculinizing hormone since he was old enough to start puberty naturally (apparently elves were rather accepting about such change), so he didn't develop breasts, but what effect that has on human genitalia, Laios was uncertain of. The monsters he knew of that could transition naturally did not have human-analogous genitalia, so he couldn't really conjecture.

“Your breeches are still halfway down your thighs, your majesty,” Kabru said. He laughed.

“Um. Sorry…” Laios hurriedly finished undressing.

And then it was still again.

“We don't have to do this if you don't want to,” he said. They were almost shoulder to shoulder, close enough that Laios could sense his nearness of him by the radiating warmth alone. He felt cold sitting there naked. He wanted to get closer. He didn't know how.

“...I do want to. I just…” he muttered. Kabru didn't prompt him to continue. Instead he put his arm around his shoulders and waited. After a second, he found the words to say, “I feel like I don't know what to do here, or what you want from me. I don't –I don't want you to not like it.”

“You can start by not trying to ogle me,” he replied.

“O-oh, sorry! I just want to know about how sex transitions work for humans! You see, a basilisk hen can become a rooster under specific circumstances, but they have cloaca, so their external genitalia remains the same, and it's similar for merrows, which you might know as the fish-type of merman–though I suppose you could use certain kinds of healing spells to create a penis and testes if you wanted one–”

“Laios, my friend, can we please focus on the task at hand?”

He sounded angry but didn't pull his arm away.

“Sorry! I’m nervous!”

Kabru sighed deeply again.

“If you need me to tell you what to do, then I will. But you better do it the way I tell you. And if you do…” he leaned in closer, the whisper of his breath grazing Laios' ear, “then I will enjoy it. Understood?”

A lump had just formed in his throat, so Laios could only nod once, animated enough for three.

“Good. I’m going to start by touching you. Try to stay still or lean against me.”

The hand at his shoulder began kneading there–at first it was a dull ache, but it soon began to melt into that warmth-comfort that being held by Kabru felt like. He groaned. Kabru's other hand snaked around his waist, more caressing than the deeper massage at the shoulder.

“You carry a lot of tension lately.” Kabru's voice was so quiet, and spoke directly in Laios' ear now, not an inch between them.

The kneading hand moved from the flesh of his shoulder to his neck. His fingers would press gently against his carotid, and the intimacy of it felt exciting. Like a wolf exposing his neck to his packmates, an ultimate show of trust. ‘You could kill me, but I know you wouldn't because of how much I matter to you.’

His nails dragged against his skin, just barely catching as he pulled his fingers back.

Kabru rested his head against Laios' back, nuzzling the nape of his neck, making his hair stand up. The caressing at his waist became firm, then Kabru dug his thumb into the hollow of his hip. Laois' cock twitched.

With excruciating langor, Kabru pushed that thumb down towards his groin, to the crook of his thigh. His knuckles brushed against his shaft as he began rubbing his inner thigh. The increasing tightness in his groin was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Should we kiss?” Laios blurted out.

Kabru paused his ministrations. And that was agonizing too.

“You want to kiss me?” he asked.

“It feels like we should be.”

He started rubbing his thigh again, but on the top of it, not the hypersensitive area near his half-erect cock.

“...We can try it,” Kabru answered. He spoke so slowly and softly, it was more like he was talking to Laois' shoulder than to Laios proper.

He pulled his hand away from Laios' thigh and cupped his jaw instead. Laios turned towards him, and tried to mirror him, bringing a hand to cup Kabru's face too.

It felt incredible to touch him, it made him feel silly that he hadn't been touching him before now. His skin felt so soft, with a hint of the roughness of stubble down his jaw. He rubbed his thumb over the apple of his cheek, where the flesh was plumpest. He wondered how Kabru's lips would feel.

He didn't wonder long.

Kabru pulled him closer by the nape of his neck until their lips pressed together. The feeling was difficult to describe: Kabru's lips felt soft against his, pillowy, but also a bit rough because they were a bit chapped, like he hadn't had enough water, but it wasn't really those qualities that seemed to matter most–it was this almost electrical feeling, like a static shock that surged through him through his heart to the base of his spine. Laois threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of Kabru's neck, enjoying the silky texture, and tried to deepen the kiss, get more of this feeling–

Clack!

Their teeth clashed and Kabru drew away quickly. He took his hand back from Laios' thigh to tend his teeth.

“Try to walk before you can run,” he hissed behind his hand.

“What does that mean? You're trying to have us masturbate each other and I’m just trying to kiss!”

“If you want to stop–”

“No, I don't want to stop! I just want you to make sense!”

“You are so frustrating!” he cried and fell back on the bed.

It just doesn't make sense! There was some essential divide between the way Kabru was acting and what he was saying and it bothered Laios. For once, he didn't feel like he’d done something wrong here. Except hurting his teeth (his own ached a little too).

“I’m sorry I hurt your teeth,” he said.

“It's fine.” He didn't sit back up.

“Can you please tell me what it is you actually want? None of this makes sense to me. You say you're sexually frustrated, you need to get laid, but we don't tell me to touch you or how you want it–”

“I was going to when I was ready.”

“You couldn't wait to do this, I don't believe that if your goal was quid-pro-quo orgasm, you wouldn't want to go first.”

“And why is that so unbelievable that I’d want you to cum first?”

“I don't know, it was just weird how you were making it all romantic and sensual but you say you don't want it to be romantic.”

He still wasn't getting up, so Laios fell back with him. Now they were both laying down with their legs hung over the side. Laios' erection flopped onto his belly.

“I can't believe you're still hard right now,” Kabru huffs.

“I can't control it, it does what it wants,” he answered.

Kabru chuckled, but then went quiet. Laios wasn't sure what to say. He hoped he hadn't ruined it–he really was enjoying it.

Laios turned towards him on the bed, to look at him, and said, “It’s fun, even though I feel like I don't understand you.”

Kabru didn't turn to face him, he stayed on his back, looking up at the ceiling. But he did talk again.

“I’m sorry. I–I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.” He sounded upset.

Laios grabbed his hand, and hoped that it felt as nice to Kabru as it felt for him.

“Laios…” he said, squeezing his hand, “I think I like you. Romantically, not just as a friend. I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

And that… That made more sense.

“Why didn't you just say something?” 

“I’ve tried so many times and the words just die in my throat! Do you know how hard this is? I’ve never liked guys before and now I do and it's you! You, who I spend so much time with and none of it alone–the few times I’ve gotten you alone and tried to flirt or drop a hint or anything, you just don't seem to get it! And then I get so nervous about how to get through to you, I feel ill.”

“You weren't actually sick?!” 

That made Kabru turn around. He slapped his hand to Laios' cheek and pulled. 

“Focus, stupid!” he said.

“Okay, okay!” 

His hold released. But the hand stayed. Laios couldn't help but smile: it really was nice.

“I like it when you touch me,” he said, realized how that sounded, and corrected, “Not just sexually but all the time,” realized how that might sound also, “But I’d like it if you touched me more just maybe as like a boyfriend instead of whatever it is you were doing before!”

Kabru pulled closer to him again–another kiss. This time, Laios let him do what he wanted. It was tender, it sent a shiver through Laios to try not grab him like he was trying to devour him whole, but he couldn't stop himself from cupping his hand over Kabru's and squeezing tight.

Too soon, Kabru pulled away again. He pressed his forehead to Laios' so the tips of their noses touched.

“I’ll fuck you as a boyfriend then,” he purred.

The blood rushed back to Laios’ dick so fast that it left him dizzy. 

“Just lie like that a minute, I need to grab something.”

He did as he was told, but he did peek. 

The candlelight only offered a glimpse of Kabru's silhouette as he got up and knelt by his bag–Laios hadn't noticed he'd brought one. He dug around, and Laios heard the clink of glass against glass. When he stood back up, he held a bottle, some larger, translucent object Laios couldn't make out, and what looked like a bunch of leather straps, and he held something else behind his back. He placed the leather straps and the glass bottle on the end table, and held out the larger object. It was a glass phallus, complete with textured bumps and a tapered end to keep it in place once inside someone. It was fairly small, as phalluses go, but it looked like it would feel perfect inside you. 

“Get up on the pillows, and lie on your back.”

He scooched up and fluffed the pillows.

“Can you guess what I'm going to do with this?” he asked, very cheerily.

“Um. Put it in me?” He’d typically used his fingers when touching himself, and didn't have something as nice as this. 

“Wrong! I'm putting this one in me–though if you ask nicely, I might let you do it. But this–” he pulled his hidden hand from behind his back. Held in his grasp was something Laios had never seen before. It was certainly also a phallus, certainly human shaped (complete with balls), but of a material he’d never encountered–not glass, nor the stuffed leather ones they sell in sex shops with the irritating looking stitches, but something stiff yet flexible enough to bend with the incredible girth of the thing. Maybe rubber? You couldn't easily get rubber on this continent since the trees won't grow here–it must've been expensive. 

“This is the one I want to put in you.”

Laios gasped. 

“That thing is massive! Are you sure?!”

He put the smaller one on the end table, and dropped the big one on the bed, letting it fwump and roll into Laois' side as he got busy putting on his harness. Laios was quickly coming to understand what he meant by ‘I have a cock depending on what you're asking for’. He meant to thrust it inside him like any guy with one growing out of his crotch could.

“Calm down, Laios. I’m not going to just shove it in there. I'm just putting it on, for the feel of it. We’ll stretch you out first.”

Laois could feel himself blush from head to toe. His unattended cock twitched painfully, but he didn't dare touch himself before Kabru got back on the bed and touched him first.

Thankfully the buckling and snapping came to an end. Kabru leaned over to grab the massive dildo, and secured it in place. The straps dug into the flesh around his hips and thighs, and wrapped around the base of the cock and the balls, almost fusing it to him. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the liquid into his palm, then began stroking himself with it.

“The natural rubber can catch skin and hair if left dry, and it's really uncomfortable. This will help it feel more natural, and we’ll apply more once you're ready of course.”

“Can you get back on the bed now?” Laios said impatiently.

“Ah, now that you're thinking of me ‘like a boyfriend’ you know exactly what you want?” he said.

“Yes! I thought we were clear on that. Do we have to talk more? I’d really rather you touch me again,” he replied, increasingly aggravated every second Kabru was keeping him waiting like this wasn't his idea.

“I don't think I understand you,” he said, but to his credit he was on the bed now, “Any time I try to tease you and flirt with you, it blows up. I say the most humiliating thing I’ve ever said, completely lose my composure, and that's what works. Everytime.”

Laios huffed. He really thought they'd gotten over this by now. He grabbed Kabru's wrist and pulled him closer.

“Just say the thing that you mean first, and you won't be so embarrassed later. Fucking hell,” he said as Kabru toppled on top of him.

Kabru got back up, supporting himself by one elbow as he readjusted his cock, which was currently trying to rut itself into the crease between Laios' thigh and hip.

“Fine, here's my true feelings: you are such an ass.” He slapped his dick down on top of Laios' and dropped down, squeezing them between their bodies and winding Laios. He tried to moan, but with all the air pushed out of his lungs (on purpose!), all he could manage was a gasp.

“You still *gasp* like me though, right?”

He didn't answer, he just nuzzled into Laios' shoulder, kissing the skin where it joined the neck, and then slowly rocked his hips. He wasn't really expecting what it felt like–maybe it would've felt like a handjob did, but it didn't. It felt gentler than that, gentler than the constricted feeling of penetrating someone, yet with firm pressure on his sensitive shaft and head. The weight of Kabru on top of him, pressing their bodies together, felt incredible. He whimpered, his arms moving on their own to hold Kabru around the waist.

“Now you're the one who doesn't make sense. Be more confident that I like you even though I think you're a stupid asshole.”

Laios gasped again and turned to putty–Kabru picked up the pace and kissed his neck in earnest. Laois wanted to wrap his legs around him too, just take every part of him into himself, just absorb him, but Kabru's hands at his hips were locking him in place, and it would take an extreme force of will to try lifting them when it risked Kabru letting go. He went faster, and faster, kissing and tonguing his neck, until–

Kabru stopped abruptly, panting a little (Laois panted a lot). His dick throbbed with need.

“Don’t stop now…!” he whined.

Kabru sat up on his heels.

“I have a mission, Laios,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle of lube. He uncorked it, poured more in his palm, recorked it one-handed and put it back. With much squelching and spurting, he lubed up all five of his fingers and the palm too. He positioned himself so that his thighs created a wedge pillow for Laios' hips to rest on. Then, he pulled him up. Kabru's strength was always impressive–but maybe it was more his familiarity with the human body and how it moves, and how to use its natural points of leverage against someone–or for them, if he was about to fuck them in the ass–and that was even more impressive.

It was lucky that Laios tended to keep himself clean to facilitate his own masturbation, because Kabru didn't seem to think about that at all. He took a deep breath and got ready for what he expected next.

Probing finger number one entered, hooked upwards to seek out his prostate. He stroked in and out until he found it, and hit it hard. Precum shot from the tip of his dick. His sphincter clenched from the sudden excessive stimulation.

“Agh! Don't be so rough!”

“Sorry,” he said in his sweetest voice, “I was having fun.”

With a much gentler hand, he stroked it slowly. Once Laios relaxed again, he inserted a second finger. He rubbed at that hollow of his hips as he stroked, then began scissoring his fingers, a little wider each time. he was methodical, trying to work him out as fast as he could. Laios grabbed for his free hand again–he missed how comfortable it was beneath him, and it felt like all he could do was anticipate when Kabru would decide to come down to him again. He put in the third finger.

All of this felt so new, mostly because it was. He’d never had anyone else inside of him, even if he’d done it himself regularly. He’d had sex, but not with a close friend, not with someone who he enjoyed clinging to like slime. It was nerve-wracking, it was exciting, it was a fourth finger squeezing inside.

Kabru whistled.

“To be honest Laios, I was not actually confident I’d be able to get it in tonight, but it seems we will. Good job.”

“Th-thanks,” he said hoarsely. He’d been moaning nonstop for the last ten minutes, so his voice was about spent.

Kabru kept thrusting his fingers, brushing Laois' prostate on every third plunge in exactly, never really letting Laios lose himself in the rhythm of it, or letting him go ahead and cum. He got down to the last knuckle of his hand, and stretched all four fingers inside wide.

“You have definitely done this before,” he said.

“Um, just–ahhh–just to myself.”

Slowly he closed his fingers and withdrew them.

“I think you're ready. Now you get to get me ready.”

Once again, he returned to the end table, pulled the bottle of lube and the much smaller dildo. He handed them to Laios, who had sat up to see what he was doing.

Kabru laid back on his elbows, and lifted his legs to give Laios better access to his crotch.

“Put some lube on that and stretch me out a little so you can put it in,” he said.

Laios rubbed the dildo with the lube, making sure to coat his fingers as he did so.

“Bend down to get to me,” he instructed.

So Laios bent over, ducking the monstrous cock he was going to be taking very soon, and at this angle he could get a good look at Kabru's anatomy.

He had been wrong about the lack of external genitalia–his clitoris hung outside of the labia majora, engorged and standing at half-attention despite the weight of the skin and fat sitting above it.

“Yours is huge,” he said, awestruck. He touched it, holding it between two fingers, stroking it not unlike how he would the tip of his own and eliciting a moan from Kabru. He wondered what it would feel like against his tongue. “Could I suck it? Just for a minute?”

Kabru went very still for a second.

“Please do.”

Laios dove for it, using one arm to support himself, and the other to feel what he couldn't see in the dark, and letting the showy dildo flop onto his head. He took it into his mouth, licking the underside with the flat of his tongue and pressing it into his pallet. He had neither sucked dick nor eaten pussy before, so he couldn't truly compare, but he liked that Kabru's…–well, it should be fine to call it a cock even if there was a much larger artificial one above, dirtying his hair right now–Kabru’s cock was almost exactly a mouthful. It made it easy to loll it about on his tongue, testing the weight and density of it. And all his play seemed to be working wonderfully for Kabru–his thighs shook and his breathing was a bit shallow. He found a rhythm he liked and focused on using his fingers now. He spread apart the lips, and tried to finger him.

His head was unceremoniously pushed away. The heavy dildo flopped down onto the bed.

“You haven't fingered anyone before, have you?” Kabru asked, voice a little shaky.

“Ummm… No.”

Kabru just nodded.

“I’ll show you another time. You won't stay stretched forever,” he said, scratching at Laios' scalp for a second before continuing to push him away, “Go on, lay back as you were.”

He picked up the smaller dildo–which Laios had forgotten in his eagerness–and slowly worked it into himself. Once it was in, he left it there, no further fussing with it. He instead turned his attention back to Laios and his splayed legs. But instead of wedging himself under Laios again, he climbed over him, straddling one of his thighs, and said, “You still have to finish lubing it up, though.”

With a sweet smile, he passed the bottle to Laios again, who uncorked it while he stared down the massive, heavy battering ram strapped to his royal advisor. He poured the viscous substance directly onto the shaft of it and passed the bottle back to Kabru to deal with. He took it in both hands, pumping it slowly, being sure to fully coat it. Kabru hummed in contentment.

“Can I ask something?” Laios said, careful not to stop his work as he talked.

“Hm? Sure, go on,” he answered. He sounded almost blissful.

“If you can't feel it, why do you enjoy this?”

“Um. I suppose…I just like to watch.

“So you’d like it if I sucked this one too?”

Laios could see his Adam's apple bob in the dim light.

“Yes. Yes, I would. But stay focused, please,” he said. He stayed Laios' hands.

In a few swift motions, Laios' ass was back in Kabru's lap, the head of his dick pressed against his sphincter. That slim and strong body holding him in place, readying to fuck him–Laios figured he could understand why Kabru liked watching his partners. It felt good to know you made someone else enjoy themself; it made him feel sexy to see Kabru so focused on him.

Man, he really didn't get to feel sexy often. People didn't seem to really desire him like that. Granted, it's been uncomfortable a lot of the times he's noticed someone else was interested in him, though he wasn't sure why. Why should they be interested in a body like this? There was nothing cool or special about it. It just was. It didn't feel sexy.

So then why did Kabru liking him feel different?

The head pressed past the ring of his asshole, spreading him wide all at once. He inhaled sharply, his legs reflexively tightened around Kabru, forcing him in deeper. Kabru caught himself before he pushed too far too fast. He kept his pace slow and Laios tried to hold his legs still, but couldn't stop the way they twitched. Soon, the head brushed against his prostate. The sheer girth of it as it moved past made it feel like it’d been getting hammered. And still it kept coming for what felt like hours before Kabru finally bottomed out.

When he did, he leaned forward, pushing even deeper, forcing a deep moan from Laios. He couldn't reach Laios' face, but he could press his face to Laios' chest and pepper it with kisses. He ran the tip of his tongue around a nipple, and it made Laios shudder. So he locked his legs around Kabru, squeezing their bodies together.

“You can start thrusting; I’m ready,” Laios said, voice husky with desire. His cock ached for release.

Kabru complied, slowly and carefully at first, but gathering speed each time. The pressure on his prostate on the up-stroke was immense, and as the strokes came faster and faster, the ripples of pleasure coursing through his body were becoming crashing waves. Small gasps and moans too were becoming louder, and if he didn't control himself, the whole castle was going to hear him getting his back blown out. He bit down on his hand to muffle himself.

Soon, he came: thick ropes coated him and Kabru's bellies. He expected Kabru to slow down and stop, but he kept up his feverish pace. The sensation left him feeling dizzy, fuzzy in the head and weak in the limb. It certainly wasn't bad but he was going to pass out if he kept this up.

“Kabru,” he tried to say, but it was so hard to speak like this. He tapped him on the shoulder.

Kabru responded, his own voice hoarse and gasping now, “I’m close, I’m so close!”

No stopping him now–Laios clung for dear life onto Kabru's shoulders. He was flaccid now, but every stroke past his prostate forced more seminal fluid from the tip of his dick, milking him dry.

With a moan and a shudder, Kabru finally relented. He rested his head on Laios' tits, just a moment, giving a few soft kisses while he caught his breath. Laios rubbed his shoulders, keeping his touch light, not wanting to risk arousing him again (he could not handle it if Kabru tried to rut him again so soon).

“Kabru,” he mumbled, too tired to talk properly.

Kabru looked up. His face looked blissful and sleepy. “Hmm?”

“You gotta pull out, man, I am so tired.”

He pushed himself up back to the kneeling position and carefully pulled out. And so Laios immediately fell asleep.

A few moments of sleep later, he woke to Kabru climbing back in bed with him, holding a warm towel.

He was dressed in his night wear, and more candles were lit again so it wasn't quite so dark.

“Here,” he said, pressing the towel into Laois' hands, “Get cleaned up, and put your bed clothes on.”

Laios took the towel and began to wash up what he could. He couldn't have been asleep for very long, as the mess on his stomach hadn't completely dried down, but the feeling of the lube was starting to itch. It was kind of awkward with Kabru just sitting there, and it seemed Kabru felt the same, since he decided it was a good time to talk.

“So… you're feeling alright? No pain?”

Laios hadn't been prepared to talk yet. His mouth felt sticky.

“Mm. Mostly. Just feel kinda sore.”

“Well, let me know if you need a healing spell or anything.” He drummed his fingers on his legs, pointedly not looking at Laios. For his privacy, Laios guessed, though that did feel silly to be concerned about with a guy you were just inside of.

“Water would be nice,” Laios answered.

“Of course, let me grab your glass,” he said, springing back to his feet. He was just acting kind of weird in a way Laios couldn't place.

Kabru had brought in a jug and a couple glasses when he'd come back, along with the hot towel. If anyone saw him passing by, they’d probably think Laios had been sick–at least that's what Laios would think.

Laios finished cleaning himself off and bunched up the towel to put in the laundry later just as Kabru turned back to him with the water.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it and gladly chugging it.

Kabru sat on the bed in an awkward silence while Laios picked up discarded clothes and the towel and got himself into something clean, and he was still waiting like that when Laios sat down with him again.

“Are you, like, okay?” Laios asked, trying not to yawn. But fuck was he still tired.

Kabru exhaled hard. He was sweaty again–he was sweaty a lot though.

“What exactly did you mean by saying you wanted me to ‘touch you like a boyfriend’?” Kabru said politely, his focus entirely on Laios. Scanning him, almost.

Laios had not thought of the statement as ambiguous, but pressed to answer he wasn't now sure what he did mean by that. Why the hell did he say it that way?

“I mean that…You're my friend, and I care about you a lot, and I couldn't do any of this kingly mess if you weren't here…” Kabru's stare was intense, and it was making him nervous, “and… You know you're really handsome? And…” he was turning red and sweating, talking was getting physically more difficult, “and… tonight, that was nice? We should… again. Sometime.”

‘Be more confident that I like you…’

Why couldn't they talk about all this before milking his prostate and continuing to fuck him for like ten extra minutes?

An arm snaked around his waist, pulling them close. Laios just wanted to go to sleep like this, pressed against him. He rested his head on top of Kabru's–his hair smelled nice, probably some perfume he used inbetween washes.

“Would you like to be my boyfriend, then, Laios? Is that what you're trying to say?”

Laios dared lay a kiss in that bed of curls; he dared to wrap his own arms around Kabru.

“Yeah, it is.”

“We’ll have a lot to discuss if we want this to work,” he said.

“Probably. Being king doesn't help,” Laios answered, “But let's worry about that in the morning. I just wanna sleep with you now.”

Kabru squeezed him tightly, nuzzling his neck again, breath against his pulse, speaking softly.

“You should phrase that differently–I could go for another round.”

Locking Kabru in a hold, Laios fell back on the bed.

“You're insatiable! Let me rest!” 

They laughed together for a minute as Kabru broke the hold and got up to put out the candles. Laios yawned deeply, and got under the covers, and made space for Kabru. He pushed a pillow over for him. When Kabru climbed into bed, he laid face to face with Laios.

He looked so beautiful in the moonlight, soft and happy, and his eyes seemed to sparkle. Being with Kabru made him happy, even if they didn't always understand one another. He could trust him, and he felt like Kabru trusted him too. He wanted to kiss him again, fall asleep close that way. So he did. They lay curled around each other, lost in dreams.

All that mattered that night was that they wanted each other's company: Everything else could wait.

[1d1195]

Tulips Extra I

You can read Tulips here. I wouldn't read this if you're having a good day, lol. The original was therapeutic for myself so it's a little on the sad side for sure. It was good timing since I've not been feeling very positive lately.

Anyway, it's probably very angsty with a bit of fluff.

Thank you for reading my diary 😉

~4.7k words

Highly recommend listening to: Lung (Vines version) by Vines & Adrianne Munden-Dixon while reading.

“Shh,” he shook his head. “I got it,” he tilted his head at her. His voice was so sure. Like he was telling her the sun would come up tomorrow.

She supposed it would.

If she looked in the mirror, she would see a lot of growth. It had been six months since Harry moved in and she was more open, more communicative, and delegated more. Harry was perfect. Probably too perfect. It was almost unfair and if she thought about it too long, she worried a little too much about the ramifications of her own inadequacy.

Harry never let her feel that way. When she made dinner, he nearly threw a parade. If she was at Target and saw something she thought Harry would like and bought it, he thanked her for hours. It was a little overwhelming sometimes to be praised so highly. In previous relationships, she thought about the fanfare she would get from doing those kinds of things but after years of never getting it, she assumed it wasn’t in the cards for her.

But she hadn’t met Harry. He never let her feel that way. Everything she did was thanked with the utmost gratitude. It was unnerving sometimes that he adored her exactly how she imagined love was supposed to be. There were days, weeks, years, when she thought she wasn’t worthy of the love she dreamed about. Harry came along as if all that time feeling sad never existed. He praised her for things that didn’t need it, but it made her smile.

“M'a lucky guy, kitten,” he kissed her on the forehead while they watched TV. She had brought over a cup of hot water. Harry always had a cup in the middle of the afternoon. It was good for his throat, which was prone to colds and good for his vocal cords when he spent so much of his job talking to other people.

*

There were still hard days for her. Days when her mind ran wild and told her that she wasn’t good enough for Harry. That if she didn’t do everything perfectly or if she forgot something at the grocery story, she didn’t deserve to have Harry in her life any longer. Those years of not being good enough, or rather not feeling good enough, were hard to stamp out of her mind. Harry did a wonderful job getting most of it to disappear. But a bad day was a bad day; and it was hard to predict that. Hard to know when her mind would play a trick on her.

Work was okay except everyone was on edge close to the holiday. The end of the year was always a tricky time. Things needed to be wrapped up financially and socially. Honestly, she was probably the calmest one at work, but she was kind. Helping others with their workload because hers didn’t entail the same types of problems that everyone else was facing. But it did require a lot of her mental load. The satisfaction she felt from helping others was really good for her emotional well-being, but it came at a pretty significant cost: she had a really hard time saying no—especially when she needed to say no.

This led her to carrying several grocery bags into her apartment with Harry. She didn’t want to take two trips. Except she was struggling. Two trips would have been better. Or calling Harry when she got to the parking lot would have helped. He wouldn’t have minded either. He probably didn’t know she was grocery shopping after work, or he would have offered to go with her.

But unfortunately, they had gotten into a bit of a... disagreement the night before. Which only added to her stress emotionally. It was a well-based disagreement. Harry worried she was doing too much for her coworkers and thought (in the kindest way possible) that she should set some boundaries where she felt comfortable helping but still able to get her own stuff done.

In her head she did something wrong. Harry was so kind. Extremely understanding of all the boundaries that she failed to set in her work life and with her family. He knew it wasn’t easy for her. But it was hard for him to watch the person he loved struggle to feel okay with anxiety and stress plaguing most of her thoughts over things she didn’t necessarily need to worry about.

She was almost at the door. Her arm was sore from holding the bags up for so long. The circulation in her hand was disappearing from the bags that had slid down. Why she didn’t just set the bags down at the end of the hall will always make her wonder. But instead, of course, the bag ripped open. The one stupid paper bag she had to get from the store to fit everything. Of course, it had eggs in it. While trying catch it, she dropped the gallon of milk she had in her other hand that naturally exploded onto the floor with the eggs. She gasped and looked at the mess she created in the hall. Fortunately, her neighbors weren’t affected. She was so close to her own door the only one impacted would be herself or Harry.

“—her location says she should be home—oh,” Harry stuck his head out from the door. He heard a loud thud from inside the apartment. Paired with his missing girlfriend, he worried she had hurt herself or something coming up the stairs. Harry watched her for a moment, a frown settling onto his lips at the sight. Her shoulders shaking, her lip wobbling while tears filled her eyes. “Love, m’gonna have her call y’back. She jus’ got home. Think she had a tough day,” he murmured. “S’okay. I’ll take care of it. She’ll call y’back,” he promised. “Okay, bye,” he slid his phone into his pocket. Her gaze didn’t move from the mess on the floor, but she could sense Harry approaching her. Like an injured animal in the wild.

“Was that my sister?” She whispered.

He nodded, but she wasn’t looking. “S’nothing serious,” he promised.

“I think she needed help with her assignment or something. I was supposed to call her when I got home so I could read—”

“Love,” he stepped directly into the mixture of eggs and milk and put his hands on her shoulders. “S’not important right now,” his voice was so gentle. Almost too gentle. “Let’s go inside,” he tugged her gently toward the door. “M’gonna clean this up,” he offered easily.

She looked up at him, her eyes so blurred with tears that his expression was hard to make out. The only good thing her tears did was magnify her perception of Harry’s pretty eyes. They actually looked like emeralds and made her heart flutter despite how sad she was. “You don’t have to,” her voice cracked. “I dropped everything. I should clean it—” the tears fell from her eyes in slow motion. It was like she was watching one of those movies where the girl tries to keep working even though she just found out the love of her life died and she was basically ignoring it. She hated those scenes. They hurt so much. She swiped her hand across her face. “I just need to grab—”

“Kitten,” Harry stilled her movements as she tried to push away from him. “Angel,” he whispered softly. “Please stop.”

“No, I’m okay,” she promised, the saddest smile falling across her lips. Harry looked at her with so much worry and he shook his head.

“No, kitten. You’re not,” his voice was low and he cupped the side of her neck and held her in place. “What happened?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing,” but the words were choked and only half-uttered by the mixture of tears and her throat closing around the sound trying to force its way out of her vocal cords. “I’m fine.” It was like her body was trying to repel the words because she almost folded in half, she crouched and covered her eyes as she let the sobs take over for a second. She would be fine; she just needed a second to get some of the emotion out.

“Angel,” Harry crouched right beside her. “C’mon, kitten. S’not nothing,” he murmured.

She shook her head. No, things with Harry were fine. She wasn’t going to burden him with needless worries and all the anxiety that was coursing through her head. It was all in her head. Truly. It wasn’t something that he needed to—

Harry pulled her toward their door where milk and eggs hadn’t spread to yet. The remaining pile of groceries was mixed in the mess. She crouched by the door again, unable to stop the emotion long enough to make it past the entry way. Gently, Harry pulled her toward him and kissed the top of her head. He knelt beside her, hand cupping the back of her neck and the other gently rubbing up and down her arm. A neighbor peered into the hallway raised his eyebrows at the mess before turning to see Harry and the girl in their doorway. Harry shook his head so minutely he doubted she noticed. Fortunately, their neighbor saluted ever so slightly and retreated inside.

“I’m. Sorry,” she hiccupped.

He shook his head feeling so awful she was this distraught. This upset. He wished he had checked her location before her sister called to ask if she was ignoring her. Wish he had gone down to see where she was when he realized she was supposed to be home. “Shh,” he hushed. “S’nothing t’apologize for, kitten,” he promised quietly.

She continued sobbing and Harry wondered how on earth someone so beautiful, so kind, so utterly adoring could be so sad. It pained him to no end. Watching her breakdown like this felt like someone stabbed him right in the heart. He wanted to do whatever he had to do to make it stop. He knew she kept a lot of her emotions to herself. Years of bottling them up so as not to inconvenience others for simply existing.

“Kitten,” he whispered when her sobs subsided to sniffles. “Y’gotta talk t’me,” his voice was gentle but filled with worry. “M’sorry people let y’down. M’not one of them, though.”

“It’s hard,” her voice was so crackly and broken. Harry almost let it go because he wasn’t sure he could bear the weight of how sad she was.

“I know, baby, I know it is, but I love you so much. I want nothing but t’help you,” he hoped she heard how sincere he was. “I hate seeing y’like this. It hurts me, kitten,” he cupped her face and gazed into her eyes so hopefully she would understand how much he adored her and how much it hurt him. It wasn’t to minimize what she was feeling. It was to hopefully help her reach the conclusion that he was on her side, always. He would do whatever it took to make her smile.

“M’scared,” she whispered. “You’re just going to tell me that I’m being ridiculous—because I am, Harry. I am being ridiculous. I have you. You’re so perfect. You love me so much and you don’t care that I’m a little crazy and you don’t—”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “I would never tell y’that you’re being ridiculous. Please tell me y’don’t really believe that,” his heart felt even worse. How could she think that?

“Because,” she croaked. The seconds it took her to speak after felt like years. Harry waited so patiently, his heart pounding. “Because whenever I felt so overwhelmed,” she shook her head and looked down, despite Harry holding her face so she would have to look at him. She closed her eyes and sniffled.

“Tell me, angel.”

“I have never had someone,” she started again, squeezing her eyes tight. They felt red and swollen. She was certain she looked as terrible as she felt. “It was my own doing,” she whispered. “The reason I get so overwhelmed. When I complained even a little it was turned into something about how I did things wrong. I overwhelmed myself. It was just... in my head,” she whispered.

Harry wasn’t completely sure how he managed to stay upright. He swiped his thumbs below her red rimmed eyes. He thought she was beautiful even when she cried but it hurt him so much to see her like this. “S’not in your head, m’love,” it was hard to say the words without breaking out into cries himself. Seeing her hurt like this made him feel like the worst boyfriend in the world. “Love doesn't have t’be even, kitten. Being mad doesn't have t’be even. Being upset with something I do doesn't mean I have t’be upset with something you do. Y’can be annoyed with me, and I don't have t’bring up something m’annoyed by—which is nothing,” he assured her quickly because he could spot something he said creating a spiral easily. “But love, y’have t’tell me... talking has t’be done. I can't do this alone, kitten. I can't do this without you,” he explained as gently as he could.

“It’s not important,” she shook her head. Her voice cracked again.

Harry winced. “No, but it is, kitten. I can hear how important it is. I see it. I can feel it. Y’need t’tell me. I need you t’tell me everything y’feel. I can tell it hurts. All of it. I want t’fix it. I don’t want you t’hurt. M’not going anywhere. Ever.”

“But it’s… so bad to talk about... exes,” she whispered the last word like it was a curse—like she would be sent right to jail for it saying out loud.

Harry frowned. “Yeah, maybe if y’still in love with them. Do y’still love him?” It was rhetorical honestly. He knew she didn’t.

Her face paled immediately, her sad eyes filling with more tears. “Of course not!”

“I didn’t say it t’make y’mad, m’love,” His voice was gentle again. “I want you t’process this. I can’t have you all bottled up. I need t’know signs and feelings you’re having when y’don’t want t’share them. He messed with you so good,” he smiled without an ounce of humor behind it. It was the saddest smile she had ever seen on his face. He looked… so... disappointed. “M’usually good at figuring out what m’supposed t’do as a boyfriend. But y’stump me sometimes,” he admitted shyly. “It hurts me t’see you flustered and hurt without telling me why. I want t’be there for you. Always. In ways he never was because you—”

“He was always late,” she sobbed again. Harry pulled her to him immediately letting the tears pour out of her and he rocked her so gently. The words spilled out of her as fast as the tears did. “I swear he did it to piss me off and then he would say I was too controlling or neurotic. I was too planned out. He never got me flowers and my mom knew how much that bothered me. She knew he didn’t, even though I lied and said he did. I lied about flowers,” she felt so pathetic saying it out loud. “I lied about so many things he didn’t do because I was disappointed in myself. He didn’t see the point in romantic gestures. He didn’t think about how it kind of made me look like an idiot. I know that’s not the point of a romantic gesture, but I kept doing them for him and I—” the sobs choked her voice for a moment but Harry stayed silent. “I ignored all those red flags. All of them. Every single one of them. Why did I do that?” She cried; her voice sounded so tired. She looked so tired. Harry was quiet for a long time while more tears than he thought were possible fell across her cheeks.

“Because love is also red,” Harry whispered eventually. “Rose colored glasses are red… tulips, my sweet love,” he paused to kiss the top of her head, “are red.” It felt like hours she sobbed against him. The milk spread on the floor probably getting warm and souring the smell in the air and Harry just held her rocking ever so softly. “Thank you,” he said after way longer than anyone would have waited to speak. “For telling me that. I know that was hard. I promise I won’t be late. Ever,” he vowed. “Everything else between us? Might have t’be some compromises and more talking and we might argue. I might get mad, but it doesn’t mean it’s going t’end us, kitten. You have t’know that. M’here for the long haul... But late? On purpose? It won’t be me,” he promised easily. “Whether m’mad because I had a bad day at work or because of traffic, you’ll know the moment I know. M’not going t’miss a single time y’tell me. I will be there early.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shook his head and kissed her temple, letting his lips drag along her skin for longer than he needed but it felt so soothing she nearly cried again. “S’nothing t’be sorry for,” he promised. “C’mon,” he stood, his knees aching from crouching for so long. He held his hand out to her and pulled her to stand beside him. He pushed her toward the sofa.

“What about—”

“Shh,” he promised. “S’fine,” he murmured pushing her to sit. Once seated, he pulled her shoes off, wrapped a blanket around her and kissed her forehead. He placed a book in her lap that she had started earlier in the week and hurried to the kitchen to bring her a bottle of water. “Stay here,” he kissed her forehead again, this time cupping her cheek at the same time and rubbing his thumb along her skin.

“But I—”

“Shh,” he shook his head. “I got it,” he tilted his head at her. His voice was so sure. Like he was telling her the sun would come up tomorrow.

She supposed it would.

*

As low as she got, she felt so much better, much quicker than she usually did. Harry was grateful for the change and was extremely mindful of things that caused her stress. He tried to read her mind as much as possible and was successful more often, which made him feel a lot better.

Talking was so much better. She had never felt so free. Harry knew her every thought. He didn’t belittle her emotions or make her feel like an inconvenience. Right before they fell asleep, she was snuggled close, her eyes watching Harry breathe evenly. The only light coming from a streetlamp outside their window. It wasn’t too bright but illuminated the room enough for her to make out Harry’s shadow beside her. His hand skimmed up and down her arm making her drowsy. “I love you,” she sighed.

“I love you, too, angel,” he murmured.

When they were out with friends Harry was mindful of her well-being. If she wanted to leave, he could sense it before she wanted to go. In fact, he even said he wanted to leave before she mentioned it. Taking her out of the equation made her anxiety lessen profusely.

If there was a problem Harry had (and rarely did that happen because he truly believed she was an angel) he looked her dead in the eye every time and promised her that he wasn’t mad. “I am not mad,” he held her face in his hands like she was a fragile vase. He waited until she nodded, he could see the emotions scrolling through her eyes like an index searching for one to land on for a moment. Only when she nodded would he continue. “I don’t like when y’leave the remote in the couch. S’hard t’find,” he explained. “Can y’try t’leave it on the coffee table?” He asked. She nodded. “Are y’okay, kitten? M’not mad,” he said reassuringly.

She nodded again. “I know,” her voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “S’okay,” he smiled encouragingly. “Do y’have anything y’want t’share with me that’s bothering you?” She shook her head. “You’re sure? Not even the whole pizza thing?” He eyed her suspiciously. Harry put the whole box of leftover pizza in the fridge, and he could see the distaste in her eyes when he did so.

“It just takes up a lot of room,” she admitted.

“Good,” he smiled excitedly that she was telling him the truth and he kissed her forehead. “I’ll go fix it now; can y’find the remote?” He found giving her a manageable task was a good distraction when she voiced her worry. He could see her eyes fill with tears despite the fact he wasn’t upset, but he knew it was because she was more than likely overwhelmed with how easy that was. She swiped her hand across her cheek and dug between the cushions to find the controller. When he returned, she handed him the remote to put on a movie. He pulled her toward him, her body half resting against his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, so much, angel,” he promised.

“I love you,” Harry could hear how much that really meant to her in every syllable.

*

She was carrying her work bag, her lunch bag, and her clunky water bottle when her mom called. Most of the time her mom texted her. So, she assumed it was bad. She settled her things onto the counter as she answered.

“Do you know Harry texted me?” She asked.

“What?” Her heart leapt to her throat. Harry hadn’t ever texted her mother to his knowledge. She knew he periodically texted her siblings but never her mom.

“He shared a whole album with me. I had to have your sister help me open it because you know me with this contraption,” she laughed but she didn’t want to hear about her technological illiteracy. She wanted to know what the album was. “It’s just a bunch of bouquets of flowers. At least two dozen. Maybe closer to three. He said it’s every bouquet he’s ever bought you and the reason why. Birthday. Christmas. Valentine’s Day. Bad day at work. Being brave at the dentist,” she laughed again. She had a hand on her heart as she tried to quell all the emotions rapidly flowing through her in quick succession. “Sweetie,” she whispered, a smile in her voice. “He said he was going to add to it every time he got a new bouquet, but he wanted me to know that he got you flowers. Wanted me to have proof. Do you know what it’s about?”

She felt tears thicken her throat. “Yeah. Yeah I know,” she whispered. “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” she promised.

“I know you lied to me,” she said softly. It wasn’t accusing. It was exactly how a mom would react to such a statement. “You never lie about anything so it’s pretty obvious when you do. Especially about something so...little,” she felt horrible. But honestly, she didn’t feel like telling her mom that the flowers weren’t little. They were huge, in fact. It was a huge, glaring, obvious thing that she should have known was wrong. “I’m not too sure what’s going on with you and Harry lately, but I can see how much that man adores you and I know he would do anything to make you smile.”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know,” she responded. “I know why you did it.”

The tears rolled down her cheeks, but she doesn’t make a sound. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she repeated.

“Okay, well... I’m glad you have that album,” she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a couple of chores to do, Mom.”

“I know, that’s fine. I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you, sweetie,” she could hear her mom’s encouraging smile in her voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Almost as soon as the call ended, she sniffled. Then just as quickly, Harry came through the door and found her wiping her eyes. “Oh, kitten,” he frowned. “S’matter?” She wanted to say ‘nothing.’ But he was holding another bouquet of flowers. Half the tulips were red, and the other half was white. So, she was unable to utter a word and began to cry again. “Angel,” he set the bouquet on the counter beside her stuff and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “M’sorry, love,” he murmured into her hair and squeezed her.

“Can we get married?” She asked through her tears.

Harry didn’t even care how ridiculous she sounded. He continued as if this was a normal conversation that he had every day with her. As if she wasn’t sobbing on a Thursday night for no reason. Or if he asked her if she wanted fish for dinner. “Of course we can, baby, but I have t’propose—”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t care. Right now. Please. I love you so much. So, so much. I can’t—” she hiccupped.

“Hey, hey,” he pulled away and looked at her. “Kitten,” he smiled gently. It was a sad smile, but a cute one. Like he didn’t want to set her off completely. “I love you, too,” he assured her. “I want t’propose the right way and make sure you’re—”

“Then give me the ring now,” she looked at him squarely in the eye. The smile melted off his face and other than her soft sniffle, there wasn’t a sound in the apartment. “Please,” she repeated.

“Kitten,” he sucked his cheek in a bit and looked at her nervously. Like this was a break in her tired mind that he wouldn’t be able to handle. “What happened? Please tell me, you’re worrying me.”

She wiped her eyes again. “You told my mom you got me flowers.”

His entire body deflated, and it was like he just knew. “Stay here,” he said simply.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodded, and watched as Harry walked through their apartment. She wondered if he was walking so slowly on purpose. By now, she was used to Harry’s footsteps, and she listened to the sound of them: light and quiet on their hardwood floors. From the kitchen she could hear his dresser drawers sliding open and closed. It was as if he took ten times as long to come back to the kitchen as he did to leave it.

“How did y’know?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I didn’t.”

He smirked and pulled the little box out of his pocket and set it on the counter beside the flowers, her bags and her water. “I was going to wait until Christmas, y’gonna have nothing t’open.”

“I don’t need anything,” she promised.

He chuckled. “Kitten,” he sighed. “What am I going t’do with you?”

“I don’t know. But you have a lifetime to figure it out,” she vowed.

He smiled, shook his head. “Will you—”

“Yes.”

“Can you let me do it the right way—”

“No.”

He sighed. “Kitten,” he chided with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” she wiped her cheeks again and shook her head.

Harry took a deep breath. “Angel, will you—”

“I can’t do it, I’m sorry. Please just kiss me,” she begged.

He laughed, shook his head, and pressed his lips to hers. He held her so firmly in his embrace, dipping her backwards in the middle of the kitchen like this was the most romantic place in the world. When he stood her upright, her cheeks were flushed, and she was silent. She no longer looked anxious as she had when he entered the apartment. He grabbed the ring box, pulled the ring out of the safety of its little cushion and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. It wouldn’t need to be resized or anything. “Will you marry me?” He managed to ask without her interrupting.

Her response was immediate, though, barely finished the word ‘me’. “Yes."

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

[johannestevans]

there's a plotline in grey's anatomy where they're setting up one char as having a potentially manic bipolar episode and one doctor shows concern and says he needs to be made to rest

and another doctor goes. oh no, i'm USING this episode he's having. we need it to save a patient

and i actually really like this bc like… that thing of workplaces, and especially workplaces with high levels of burnout and exploitation of its workers whilst using the importance of their work as an excuse, absolutely exploit these neurodivergent traits

i think a lot about the ways in which obsessive traits are wanted and even demanded by workplaces in order to filter an unreasonable or unmanageable workload through one or two people, and because they're "capable" it can be dismissed as acceptable

that person isn't eating or sleeping? well, they're still getting the work done! they're handling it! they're a genius! and who else is going to do the work? how else is it going to get done? they'd need to hire half a dozen people to get this finished otherwise!

and then, you know. that person has other symptoms and indicators of obsession. people start noticing compulsive behaviours. they seem out of touch with reality. their emotions become dysregulated, or they act unpredictably

and god, that's no appropriate way to act in a workplace! that's scary and weird and embarrassing! that's not an alright way to act! don't they know they're not the only person here? if they need help, they should ask for it - if they're going to act like this, they need to go

so they're exploited for the most valuable or useful trait of their mental illness or neurodivergence, that exploitation puts them under further external stress, so that trait - both its negative and positive aspects - are exacerbated… and then they need to be disposed of

the hard work has been done, so they're not losing anything by getting rid of that person, so who cares how much that person's long term health is ruined or impacted? who cares if they can't get another job or need long term treatment? not my problem! the work got done!

and the thing about how these exploitative actions occur within systems and organisations is that like. multiple people can be involved in this process, without sufficient enough oversight or connection with the exploited person, to check in with them before it escalates

or if people DO notice and check in with them, the system is otherwise overworked or fast-paced or badly organised or anything else, they won't be able to do anything to intervene or help that person because that person can't or won't ask for help themselves

and even if they DO ask for help, that request is going to be dismissed because, hey, they're getting it done and they NEED this worker's full concentration right now! the workplace NEEDS it.

the individual worker is meant to make sacrifices

and don't get me wrong, this is a problem of all workplaces which in our current society are inherently exploitative, but for people with certain traits that make them more vulnerable to this sort of manipulation and/or who struggle to set limits or boundaries for their own sake

and higher-ups within that system might recognise that person's vulnerability or they might not - they might know it's there but still exploit it out of "necessity", out of their own reliance on that person

but the end result is so long term and potentially unrecoverable

and obvs grey's is a medical show, and this sort of exploitation is common in healthcare professions (including veterinary sciences), certain research positions, law, but my experience of it is mostly in fucking hospitality, where high employee turnover is seen as part and parcel

[pukanavis]

Nanaki Nanamegi SSR Card Story "Serving Diligence With Style" Track 1

Location: Cruise ship ・Party Hall

Nanaki: Allow me to guide you to your seat, ma’am.

Lady: Please, lead the way.

Nanaki: Might I recommend this alcoholic beverage to accompany your meal today? Its fruity flavour makes it go down smoothly, so do let me know if that interests you.

Gentleman: My, my, aren’t you well put-together for your age?

Netaro: EMERGENCY! We’re outta leaves!

Nanaki: …Sounds like the salad bar needs tending to. Yowa-san, I’ll be right there!

Muneuji: Nanamegi, I’m sorry to ask this of you, but would you mind clearing up some of the tables?

Nanaki: Sure thing. I’ll be just a sec.

Nanaki: Phew…

Ryui: Hey, kid. Don’t tell me you’re already worn out?

Nanaki: Of course not, Ryui-san. We're only just getting started.

Ryui: Good.

Nanaki: This has been an incredible turn out, hasn’t it? To think a revamped night cruise would see a crowd like this on its very first trip.

Ryui: They’re doing a little too well, if you ask me. Goddammit, if they had just set up the waiter robots in time, we wouldn’t need to be running around like a load of headless chickens all night…

Nanaki: At least we're managing to make it work. Customer service is just another part of the job.

Netaro: Esteemed guest, your dessert has arrived! I present to you a miso soup made with a broth composed of reconstructed tyrannosaurus bones! I call it ‘tyra-misoo’ for short. [1]

Ryui: …

I’m gonna tie him up and throw him in the boiler room.

Nanaki: Ahaha…

(I know I said we’re managing, but honestly…)

It’d be a real relief to have just one more person helping out—

Momiji: Nanaki-kuun!

Nanaki: !! Chief!

Momiji: Things were running smoothly up on the sun deck so I thought I’d come and pop my head into the party hall, but it looks like you guys are pretty swamped with guests in here. I’ll help lighten up some of the workload.

Nanaki: I really appreciate it. I was actually just thinking about how nice it’d be to have an extra pair of hands on board. This must be divine will… [2]

Momiji: Divine veal?

Nanaki: Uh—the veal schnitzels!! At the buffet!!! People are saying they’re divine!!!!

Momiji: Oh, that's great to hear!

Nanaki: L-Let’s move on…

To start off with, could you help me carry these meat pie platters around?

I know this is a buffet style dinner, but I thought some of the guests might prefer to have food while it’s still fresh out of the oven.

Momiji: Sure, I’ll give you a hand! That’s a really thoughtful idea.

Nanaki: Why don’t we start making the rounds from over there? I’ll just grab a few plates, and…

Momiji: Woah, you can carry three plates at a time? That’s impressive, Nanaki-kun!

Nanaki: No no, it's a piece of cake, really.

(There’s actually a trick to pulling this off…but if I bring that up, it’ll make me sound like I’m trying to show off my smarts…)

Momiji: The secret is to hold your thumb and pinky over the two plates in your hand, right?

Nanaki: Ah, I should’ve known you’d be clued into the trick. I'm sure you’d be able to get the hang of it right away if you gave it a go.

Momiji: You think so? I've seen you practicing it lately, so maybe I should try to follow your example…

Nanaki: …

Huh?

Next

Notes 1. 'Tyra-misoo' is supposed to sound like 'tiramisu'. 2. To clarify, Nanaki originally says that it must be fate (運命 unmei) which Chief mishears as plum (梅 ume) and Nanaki responds in a panic by saying “The plum juice has been popular!! On the drink menu!!!” to cover for himself. I am not good at localising miscommunication jokes, forgive me ORZ.

[whumpbby]

I think people forget that the other Jiang disciples had seen WWX disobeying and ignoring JC for years before WWX had run off to save the Wen’s. He’d been day drinking and not picking up any of his duties because of his trauma, which while understandable isn’t really helpful when you’re all in the same traumatized boat. I bet there were some disciples who were resentful of WWX for how much JC was trying to push to keep WWX as his second in command while WWX wasn’t doing anything a SIC would do. The Demonic Cultivation and lack of core messed him up but he didn’t tell anyone so all anyone saw was someone wild and unpredictable being rude to the one guy who by all rights he should have never been disloyal to.

I mean, dude, if I was a Jiang disciple I'd be absolutely furious.

Hearing all these amazing stories about the cultivator that harnessed resentment and tears through the battlefield changing the tide of the war almost by himself! And then you join in and see the mess of Wei Wuxian, underdressed, unwashed, always either drunk or asleep on a rooftop somewhere. What?

After the war was won there's finally time for rebuilding, for taking care of civili, training new disciples, building trade back up, discussing alliances - and he's nowhere to be found. And when he's there, he's talking back to the Sect Leader and getting handsy with him - and no one is alive anymore to remember how these two interacted as boys, so all the new blood sees is their leader being disrespected and upset by a man who is meant to support him and take on some of the workload. You joined the sect hoping to learn from the legendary cultivator and you're so disappointed...

He goes out and sometimes night hunts, so there's at least that, but the man is snappy and disrespectful and the opposite of charismatic...

And then, two years in, you learn that he'd pissed off to jailbreak and protect some Wen prisoners out of the blue??? And he took them to the Burial Mounds of all plavest???

He's not only disrespectful, he's downright stupid. (If anything, get them out in the middle of the night and have them put in some damn disguises!)

And your Sect Leader just grits his teeth and pretends all is well. And you know all is not well, because you saw with your own eyes how little control over the man your Leader has. He couldn't make him stop drinking, how can he drag him back before other clans decide to intervene?

For months your Leader is trying to bring Wei Wuxian back to the sect. Forbids careless talk about his shixiong. Deflects other sects' (Jins, fuck them Jins!) questions and insinuations. Still considers that man a family! Sect Leader Jiang is so soft-hearted, so filial!

And then his brother in law is murdered by the man's puppet corpse. And it's becoming obvious that there's no way for Wei Wuxian to be a part of the Jiang anymore.

Then Jiang Yanli dies. And you watch your Sect Leader change. Watch him pull himself back together around the flame that wasn't there before, all jagged edges and pain and ice, and you have one man to thank for it.

Fuck Wei Wuxian, honestly.

[leggerefiore]

Can.. Can I request ceo ingo and emmet hcs?? 🥹

sure lmao

i'm sorry if it's kinda sucky

cw: CEO au

▲CEO Train Twins▽

● The twins work at one of the biggest companies in Unova, known especially for their train manufacturing. They admittedly had their hands in countless areas, but the two obviously focused and cared for the manufacturing more than the others. Their positions had been something they received from their father after he moved into investing and retired.

○ They take to donating a good chunk of many to the Battle Subway, one of their favourite places in all of Unova. Their company makes many of the trains used by them, so it never seemed odd to also fund them in general. In fact, it's not odd to catch them riding the trains whenever they can. Their unwavering love of trains is apparent.

▲CEO Ingo▼

● Originally, he was the only one of the two twins to receive the job position, but Ingo simply refused to take it if Emmet was denied. It made him nervous to work away from his brother, and even if he was the older of the two, it made little difference in actual life experience. This ended up as a good call on his part, as Emmet ended up being an extremely helpful force with the workload and preventing him from overworking himself.

● He takes his job seriously and carries himself well, utterly afraid of tarnishing the company his father adored. Perfect business suits are common attire. Everything is worn as it should be. Even if it's hot, he's still seen wearing his suit jacket. Many people have remarked on how attractive he is and how dedicated he is to everything. This leads to numerous invitations for dates, which he never finds himself wanting to go on.

● Really, he has no interest in dating. While he would adore settling down and starting his own family, it just seemed impossible with his current level of work. Most of his socialising away from a few friends and his family was related to work. Parties, meals, meetings; everything was for work. It was impossible for him to just hold a normal conversation with most people. They saw him as a way to cement themselves in their wealth, or to use him as a way to climb even higher. He felt utterly lonely despite being almost in constant conversations.

● Well, that was until you came into his life. Hired originally as just an assistant, you quickly held his attention thanks to how you always treated him so kindly. It felt completely different from the faux politeness and air of tension from his peers in business. You spoke to him as a person, not even as an authority figured. Well, barring a few “sir 's” and “bosses” thrown around. But even then, you lightly teased him about things and made him feel less like he was drowning is business professionalism.

● You chatted with him about his genuine thoughts and feelings, making sure his schedule around the office was something manageable. It helped more than he realised. Many things you noticed about him helped him more than he would have realised. Forcing him to take his lunch breaks and actually eat, making sure he drank water as much as he drank his coffee, and trying to limit his long nights spent at the office. He felt at ease with you around.

● When you made the first romantic move towards him, he felt caught off-guard. You had started to pack him lunch, and when you had handed it off to him, you softly held his hand for a moment. Eyes avoided his, and you turned away quickly and left. His heart raced at the thought. Slowly, you became more and more daring. Hand brushes turned to cupping his face and eventually into hugs. Everything felt too real to him.

● A relationship did not follow long after a few dates, allowing him to feel more at ease around you. It was obvious to both coworkers and his brother that he felt more comfortable with you around than before you had arrived. Emmet's time nagging him to take time for himself and not work himself into an early grave slowed and ebbed out. Your concerns finally made him actually slow down.

● As a lover, he tries to dote on you with gifts and lavish dates, but he finds himself favouring evenings spent in with you more than them. He takes to cooking for you and chatting with you late in the nights spent at his apartment. Affection is common outside of work, too. He is deeply afraid his employees will see his tender kisses and long hand holds as something forced upon you, no matter how many times you initiate them yourself.

▽CEO Emmet△

○ He admits that working as a CEO wasn't truly his dream job, but Emmet would never leave his twin's side, especially when Ingo asked him specifically to work with him. While it might not be the conductor job he dreamed of, he deeply enjoys that he still gets to work with trains in a way and support his favourite Unovan battle facility, too. Not to mention, he has to make sure his older brother doesn't work himself to death.

○ Emmet dutifully does his job, helping lessen Ingo's workload and manage people around the company. He also decided to take up any disciplinary related meetings, as he knew that Ingo did not particularly enjoy them. His clothing imitates his brother, but he chooses to go with grey suits over his brother's favouritism towards black. People remark he has a certain level of attractiveness that his brother has and seems easier to approach, yet he always seems to scare them off with his manner of speaking.

○ The younger rarely goes on dates, but he does often find himself seeking out casual sex, as he finds that people are rarely interested in who he is as a person rather than his money and title. Emmet would love to have a romantic partner in his life, but it seemed most people either wanted him for the wrong reasons or just saw him as too innocent to be worth their time. He simply found it easier to calm is base desires and spend his time focused on helping his brother and hanging out with friends.

○ All that faded when you finally entered his life. An assistant hired on a whim to help better manage he and Ingo's meetings and paperwork, you caught his attention by playing with one of his Joltiks that had escaped his office. You treated him kindly and eagerly returned his conversation about his interests. It felt different from business talks and more like the ones he had with Elesa, instead. You even dared to joke and tease him, relaxing the tension heavily.

○ It was not long until you grew to notice little things about him. Chiding him about only eating desserts, making sure he actually finished his paperwork, and helping him with meetings that he obviously didn't want to hold. It made him feel closer to you, knowing that you clearly fretted over him. (It made his heart race, actually.)

○ Emmet accidentally made the first move. After a long night and bad morning, he came into work feeling awful. You, however, greeted him with a smile and surprised him with a piece of cake from a bakery that you had mentioned to him before. Naturally, his immediate response was to squeeze you into a hug, just as he did his brother and Elesa. You returned the affection without hesitation. It wasn't long until Emmet became more physically affectionate towards you. Hugs and hand kisses and holding became a common occurrence, much to your obvious pleasure.

○ A single date led to many more and a relationship. Emmet eagerly asked you out, and his joy radiated for days after. Ingo and your coworkers could only watch as he clung to you and hung around you throughout the day. It was fairly obvious how your relationship had changed. Despite Ingo scolding him so obviously showing his affection in front of their employees, Emmet openly showered you in affection.

○ He buys you many, many gifts, preferring to see you smiling. Though, a few were obviously things we wanted to catch you wearing both in and out of the office. Fancy and fun dates are common with the CEO, determined to enjoy his time with you to the fullest. Affection was doted on you everywhere and anywhere. Even moving into more intimate actions in places like the office, much to his brother's disdain.

[pteroducktyll]

FtM Hysto Recovery + Tips (Plus general tips for dealing with low/no spoons or recovering from any surgery)

I haven't been on Tumblr for years, but recently re-joined to check out art, as I start to work on getting my idea for a graphic novel off the ground (as well as getting serious about improving my art again). However, I'm hoping these first few posts get found by an entirely different audience. This is being written in 2023.

I'm going in for a laparoscopic hysterectomy on Thursday (today is Monday) and want to share my experience, as much as spoons will allow, so that other people can hopefully benefit in the future. I, personally, have struggled to find things online that fit my situation as a trans man with a history of pre-cancerous pap smears, abnormal bleeding, PID and ovarian cysts (but not PCOS). Although hysterectomies for "GRS" or gender affirming surgery purposes are easy to get where I live, mine in particular is primarily being done to avoid cancer and to stop the abnormal bleeding and random debilitating pain that comes out of nowhere every few years and upends my life for weeks/months. So if you're someone facing the prospect of a laparoscopic hysterectomy, regardless of your gender identity, and have a history of medical issues (but not PCOS or endometriosis) in your reproductive region, this blog may help you! Or, alternatively, if you're a trans man looking to get a laparoscopic hysterectomy, whether or not you've had issues in that region, this might help you, too!

It should be noted that this is written from the perspective of someone in their 30s with a complicated medical history, including Type 2 Diabetes and a very rare kidney disease (which has an average life expectancy of 29 years for men, but we aren't sure how it affects trans men), so the pre-surgery process I've been through is not the typical one. I also have chronic pain and know from my past experiences with very severe pain that a) I have a low tolerance for any pain beyond what I deal with day-to-day and b) I have a high tolerance for opiate pain medication, which means it takes a higher dose for me to address the level of pain that a lower dose would address in someone else. These both affect the length of time that I'll likely need to be on painkillers, and how functional I'll be while I'm on them. This, in turn, affects how quickly I'll be able to do things like return to work and driving.

I should also note that although it's common in some places for this surgery to be completed as day surgery, my jurisdiction almost always keeps people in overnight; this is because it takes almost 24 hours for the anesthetic to work its way out of your system, and until it does they won't have a true indication of your pain levels and, therefore, won't be able to make sure it's adequately controlled before sending you home. It's much easier (in my experience, and according to the doctors!) to stop you from having pain in the first place than to get it under control once you do.

Also, I live with my partner and a roommate, and my retired parents are about 90 minutes away and have a guest room. My support network isn't huge, but it's high quality. My partner managed to get 3 days off work for my surgery and the 2 days following, and after that is on a light workload for about a week in case she needs to take care of me. She also has a lot of flexibility with her job, and her boss really likes me, so if there are complications or she needs to spend more time at home to look after me, I don't think it's completely out of the question. All of this is to say that I'm going into this surgery from a very privileged place, in terms of not having to do much to look after myself in the aftermath. My surgeon did advise me, however, to take 1 week (for sure) off work if I could, and that I may need a second week. My work consists of two research jobs that draw heavily on my brain power, but don't require me to move around at all, especially as I work from home, so the issue is the painkillers, rather than actual healing time. Other jobs will require different amounts of time off work.

Because I'm neurodivergent and like to have as many details as possible about ... literally everything, I'm going to make this as detailed as I can. Essentially, I'm hoping to share everything I know and experience without leaving anything out. If it's too much detail for you, I'm going to be doing my best to include useful headers.

Notification of Surgery & Lead-up

I received notice about my surgery just over a month before my surgery date; it was around June 26th that I was emailed and told my surgery would be on August 3rd. I had previously met my surgeon in January, and was told it would be a 6-8 month wait until surgery. Between that appointment and being given my surgery date, I'd had bloodwork done, as well as an internal ultrasound. I've had several internal ultrasounds before and while they are far from pleasant, they are not as dysphoria-inducing for me as they are for other trans men, I'm sure. I am more physically uncomfortable during them than mentally/spiritually uncomfortable.

In the notification email, my surgeon sent additional attachments; about 200 pages of information from a) their office specifically and b) the health authority [one document about hysterectomies, one document about recovering from surgery in general]. These documents answered most of my questions, and also had instructions about fasting, pre-surgery instructions (there's a special sponge I have to buy and use the night before surgery and the morning of surgery) and recovery information. The documents were very generic, and because they came from different sources, the information was sometimes contradictory. I, personally, took the information on board in this order of trustworthiness:

Things my surgeon had said in-person during my consultation appointment in January

Things included in the information from my surgeon's office directly

Things included in the documents from the health authority

If there were contradictions that seemed extremely important (e.g. one document said to wash everything my face with the special sponges, while another said, in all caps, to absolutely NOT wash my head or face with the sponges), I followed-up with the surgeon's office or the most appropriate person (e.g. pharmacist).

Pre-surgery Appointments

Because of my medical history (diabetes and Alport's Syndrome), I had an extra step in here. My surgeon required me to have a consultation with my internal medicine doctor's clinic (but not with my specialist) to get the all-clear and make sure my risk level wasn't too high. This doctor made some assumptions about the medications I'm taking, which led him to think I had both diabetes and a heart condition, which would have put me in a much higher risk category. Because of that, he ordered extra bloodwork, and an ECG, and booked a follow-up with me for a few days later. That initial appointment with him ended on the assumption that the surgery likely would be postponed. However, the bloodwork and ECG all came back fine, and at the follow-up he gave me the all-clear and said my risk wasn't very high at all.

I had a few other pre-surgery appointments.

One was with the surgeon. In my case, the doctor actually doing my surgery is a resident colleague of the surgeon I initially consulted with. Now that I had a specific date for the surgery, and my life situation had changed a bit since the consultation (e.g. work), I asked to meet with the surgeon to ask questions that had come up since the initial consultation, and so that I could meet the person who would be cutting into me and make sure I was comfortable with her. She answered all my questions really well, and it turned out I was more comfortable with her than the original surgeon. This was a quick 5-10 minute talk, but I highly recommend asking for it, even if your surgeon hasn't changed. You'll have another chance to talk to your surgery just before being wheeled into the OR, but you'll be nervous and may be medicated by then, and it's just nice to have this conversation ahead of time and in an environment where you can look at a list of questions you've written down, and actually pay attention to the answers.

The hospital required another two appointments before surgery:

The pharmacist

About a week before my surgery, the pharmacist called for 5-10 minutes to discuss my current medications, supplements, vitamins and holistic medicines (if I were taking any) and to find out what time of day I take them at. Easy peasy.

2. The anesthetist

Exactly a week before my surgery, the anesthetist called to discuss the operation itself and the anesthetic. I'm not sure if the doctor I talked to will be the anesthetist who is actually in the room with me, or if it was just her job that particular day to call and get the information that will get passed onto the one who will be in the room. She was very nice, and explained the method of anesthesia, as well as how I'll likely feel when I wake up, etc. She also saw on my chart that I have a history of chronic pain, and zeroed in on my back and shoulder. She asked if there are any positions that make me more comfortable, and then explained the position I'd be in for my surgery -- tipped back toward my head -- and that this sometimes gives people back and shoulder pain even if they don't have any to begin with. She said my arms would be alongside my body, fairly tight to it, and I said that would be fine. I practiced laying them beside my body later that day and promptly discovered that's actually pretty painful for one arm, but I'll mention that when I get there and hope for the best! If I was having the conversation again, I'd answer by saying I wasn't sure how that would feel but that I'd practice it before the surgery day to see, and then ask who I could talk to if it turned out there's a better position or if that one wouldn't work. Ultimately though, the surgery should be 1.5 hours to 4 hours at most, so I'm not overly concerned. What you should take away from this if you're having this surgery and don't already have back/shoulder pain is that you might wake up with some, but that it should go away in a day or maybe a little less. This type of surgery also requires the surgeon to inflate your belly with gas in order to make room for the scopes and so that they can see what they're doing. That gas can stick around for a day, sometimes two, according to the anesthetist and can be a little bit painful or uncomfortable. I can't remember anything else that came out of this conversation.

In terms of pre-surgery appointments, that was it.

Tips and Tricks for Being Prepared

The next little bit is information I acquired through talking to my therapist (who's had several laparoscopic surgeries!) and many hours of research online, as well as living as a person who often has few spoons.

Get your first 1-2 weeks of meals planned and ready in advance. For me, this means I've picked up a large number of cans of Alphaghetti-type foods, and I'll be buying as many frozen meals as I can but have VERY little freezer room because my partner and I share with our tenant. Other options include things like HelloFresh, identifying nights when it will be easier for your partner if you order food in (if you can afford to), making big batches of food leading up to surgery while you're well and then freezing them, creating a list of meals you'd appreciate friends bringing over [remind them to bring them in disposable containers, so you don't have to feel guilty when it takes you weeks to get the containers back to them!], etc

Buy some Depends/adult diapers. I bought store brand (Life brand, specifically, which is Canadian) ones. The only ones I could get were maximum absorbency unless I wanted to pay twice the price for name brand ones, but I suspect I could do with a minimum absorbency one. I bought the underwear-style ones. In the store brand, they don't look very underwear-like at all, but if you have more money to spend, some of the name brand ones look convincingly like underwear! I also bought 'Unisex' ones, but would have bought womens if the unisex ones weren't an option; I suspect the mens' might have a built-in bulge area that would be awkward for me. The point of the adult diapers is that their 'waistband' is not a traditional waistband -- it's about 8" tall, very thin, and crinkle-cut so that it doesn't put pressure on your skin. This will stop you from having clothing pushing on your incision sites. BONUS is that they ARE absorbent, so you won't have to also wear pads to deal with discharge (which can, apparently, last for 6 weeks). Try the Depends on for a day a few days before surgery. Yes, it will be awkward and you'll feel silly. I am literally sitting in bed, with nothing wrong with me, wearing nothing but an adult diaper and a tee shirt while my partner's at work. But this has 2 purposes: 1) chances are you haven't worn these before, and you want to make sure you've got the most comfortable ones you can in terms of fit and style; 2) if you've worn them once already, it'll be familiar when you go to put it on when you're ready to leave the hospital; you'll know which side is the back and which side is the front, and the 'weirdness' of wearing them will be less unsettling. You're going to have other weird stuff going on, this doesn't have to be yet another weird thing happening!

If you live alone or your partner doesn't (or can't) change the sheets, layer sheets on the bed. That's right, layer your mattress with bottom sheets. That way, you can peel the top one off and have a cleaner sheet beneath it. It won't be the same as being able to sleep on a fresh, clean sheet straight out of the cupboard or dryer, but it's going to be better than the one you've slept, sweat or, universe forbid, bled on.

Get a LEAKPROOF (truly) travel mug with a handle. After surgery you'll have maybe one comfortable position to lay in. You're not going to want to get out of that position to retrieve your water, but you're also going to need to be drinking a lot of water (it helps you recover, and also helps get your bowels moving again). Being able to lose your water in the bed is a luxury, but a necessary one. I got mine at Winners for pretty cheap.

Get a nightie or onesie. I usually sleep naked. I don't really own pyjamas -- when I need to cover up to sleep (like when I visit friends or travel), I throw on a pair of joggers, or boxer briefs. But those both have waistbands and, remember, we're trying to avoid waistbands. I ordered a sleep shirt from Oodie, which was on sale, but still expensive (I paid around $60, including 1-2 business day shipping because I didn't think of it until the last minute), as well as a halloween one-sie from Old Navy that's apparently leftover from last year's halloween stock. I'm expecting the onesie to be way too hot, but I need something I can wear out in public in case I have to get groceries, or pick something up at the pharmacy, or stand outside because the building's burning, without exposing myself. I also borrowed a robe to go over the sleep shirt when I leave the hospital.

Have whoever's picking you up bring 2 pillows. One goes between your abdomen and the seatbelt, and you sit on the other one.

Have whoever's picking you up bring fast food. When you leave the hospital you're going to either be ravenously hungry or feel like you never want to eat again. Either way, fast food is going to be the one thing you didn't realize you needed so badly in your life until that moment. Your body's going to be craving carbs and fat, and fat is also what's going to help your pain pills kick in.

Have ice cream, chips or other junk food on hand. This is mostly so that you have something to eat when you take your pain pills. Fatty foods help opiates work faster; as someone who takes them several times a month for chronic pain, I've sometimes noticed a difference of -hours- between taking them with fatty foods and taking them on their own.

Get a walking aid. We use our abdomens for everything. If you don't already have something like a cane, pick one up. Keep the receipt though; if you don't end up using it, you can usually take them back. With that said, my therapist said it's at about the 2 week mark when you feel like you actually need one. If you don't have a cane but you have walking/hiking sticks, dig them out and keep them handy.

Grab some baby wipes. You can get laparoscopic incisions wet, but that doesn't mean you're going to feel like you have the energy or endurance to shower right away. You're still going to want to keep your pits and bits clean.

If you take daily medications, organize them in a pill organizer. Things can get confusing when you're on painkillers, or when a partner is dishing out your meds. You know exactly how many you take, and how often, so the best way to approach this is to get a pill organizer and get all your doses for a week ready before your surgery. Monday AM, Monday PM, Tuesday AM, Tuesday PM, that kind of thing. There's nothing worse than being on painkillers and trying to remember if you've already taken That Very Important Medication You Can't Miss or not. Or, worse, not even realizing you've missed something that can give you withdrawal symptoms, and suddenly waking up a few days after surgery feeling worse than you've ever felt in your life and wondering if you need to go to the ER, only to have it turn out that you missed your meds.

Buy something for yourself that you can look forward to. I bought a video game that I've wanted for a couple of years that was finally on sale. I haven't touched it, and won't until sometime after surgery when I feel up to it. Giving yourself a little reward when you're going through something hard is always nice.

If you're diabetic...take a minute before your surgery to remind your partner/anyone you live with/anyone who's going to be looking after you about how and when to check your blood sugars, what numbers are abnormal for you, and what to do about them. Being ill or recovering from a surgery can really throw your diabetes out of whack, even if it's well-controlled beforehand, and recovering from surgery might make you feel a lot of the same symptoms you'd feel from a hypo/hyper or DKA, so make sure you (or someone else) test your sugars regularly and have things on hand to deal with abnormal or worrying results.

Take your phone everywhere. Painkillers (and pain) can make us unsteady. As someone who's taken a fall and had to wait hours for my partner to wake up and find me and help me back to my feet (and then bed), I don't recommend it.

These are the things I know about pre-surgery, but I'll try to update...eventually if I learn anything new post-surgery.