#pos display stand

[dlxadv]

At Deluxe Printing, we make special display stands for our clients. We design them to show products well and make the brand stand out. If you need a display for a new product, a sale, or to make better use of your store space, we can make one that fits your brand and what you want to achieve.

[jmwholesale]

Boost Retail Success with Countertop Displays and Vape POS Displays

Maximise sales with countertop displays and vape POS displays that highlight your products and engage customers. These versatile units enhance visibility, provide product information, and create a professional shopping experience. Perfect for vape and CBD retailers, they foster trust, encourage impulse buys, and drive repeat business effortlessly.

[advanceddisplayau]

wire pos display stand manufacturers

Wire pos display stand manufacturers, we specialize in creating uniquely designed products and point of sale displays to help increase your visibility and sales. We have countless years of experience customizing POS solutions for our various clients to ensure the POS display we create for you. It works for your bottom line. For more information visit our site: https://www.advanceddisplays.com.au/

[arianamortenson]

Optimising Retail Point of Sale

The retail industry is constantly developing. Changes in consumer behaviour have prompted the development of innovative tools to assist retailers in meeting the demands of today’s market. What is Point of Sale Marketing? POS is often used to mean a point-of-sale system, but it can also mean the interactions between a customer and a product near where it is sold. The goal is to get people to…

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ALWAYS BEEN THE FAVOURITE. 18+ [PART THREE]

tangerine x fem!reader

wc. 3833 summary. following the events of PLAYING THE FAVOURITE, your boss finds himself knocking at your door, returning something you’d forgotten in his office. you offer him inside with the promise of tea as a thanks, but only end up finishing off what you started this morning. several months worth of feelings pouring into a singular night warnings. boss x secretary!! general filth, a whole load of foreplay, dry humping bc I luv it, throat holding, protected pinv sex. mdni // YEEAAAAAH FINALLY GET THEM FUCKING!😫 also ik this isn’t tan, ive ran out of icons for him and this is only one that suits. just pretend he’s temporarily growing out his beard kay?

SERIES MASTERLIST

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Several hours had passed since the kiss, the memory of it just as fresh as if it had happened mere moments ago. It played on repeat all afternoon, occupying your every thought. A persistent memory following you home and through the shower you had taken to cleanse your mind. But still, to no avail, it remained intact. The kiss just as vivid.

Your boss failed to return back to you after promising to.‘I won't be long,’ appearing to be faulted words. But that feeling of hurt was short lived, a call to reception with Tangerine on the other side explaining the delay — letting you know almost immediately that plans were to overrun.

And with him out of the building for the rest of the day, you spent the last half of your shift in his office, playing boss at his desk. And while you sat in his chair, bored with lack of work, you found yourself observing what the office floor is like from the view of his enclosed windowed room. You found yourself staring at your desk through the windows, seeing an almost unobstructed view through the gap in the blinds. All of your desk’s trinkets and snowglobes and novelty knick-knacks on clear display.

It left you wondering how often you fell victim to his stares and glances. 

The events from this morning never seemed to part from you, memories and thoughts following you past dinner time. By now it had grown dark and you had started to settle down for the night, cleaned and washed — dressed in a long lounge dress and a knitted jumper. Odd, mismatched socks accompanying your slippers. 

You leave your bedroom and head into the living room, flicking on your assorted collection of lamps and fairy lights. You reach to close the curtains, but when you catch a glimpse out the window, you see a car parked out front. A car rather similar to your boss’. 

You stand there for a moment while you wait for the person to leave the car, mystery and intrigue growing when you see the person fiddling with a piece of paper. And then you spot him, Tangerine stepping out of the car, your metal water bottle and a post-it note in his hand as he checks it with the street's signs. Your eyes widen at the sight, following his movements and watching him get closer to the main building door.

You hear a buzz come from the wall intercom by your door and you jump, the sound acting as an alarm and bringing you back to reality. You anxiously waft your hands at your sides as your slippers scruffle across the floor — making your way to the door. With a steady inhale to calm yourself, you press the button.

He calls your name, a questioning tone to it.

“Hi, yeah, it’s me,” you respond, eyes closing as you press your forehead against the wall. 

“You forgot your bottle in my office,” he says, voice somewhat hesitant. “Wanted to bring it to you so it doesn’t go mouldy over the weekend.”

It sounded like an excuse.

You smile at the consideration, and wait a beat, seeming to battle the thoughts in your head before finally giving in. You buzz him in and shake your head, pushing away the shame for what this may mean. What it may lead to.

With your boss on his way to your apartment floor, you rush over to the kitchen counter and fill up the kettle — wanting to offer a reasoning for him to stick around. You pop it onto its place to boil, repeatedly hitting at the switch as if it were to make it quicker. 

The door knocks and you exhale, the sound wavering in pitch as you turn to face the door. You grab onto the handle and slowly pull it open, being met with your boss on the other side, his blazer folded over his arm.

“Hi, there.”

“Got it from HR,” he says simply, holding the orange paper square with your address scribbled on. He smiles for a brief moment, eyes flickering over your face until they momentarily focus on your lips — the memory of them seeming to act as a distraction. He clears his throat and extends his arm, offering your bottle — the charms jingling with the movement. “Think you forgot something.”

“Thank you,” you smile, taking it from his hold. “Can’t believe I forgot it.”

He couldn’t believe it either. You rarely let it leave your side and it made him question whether it was even an accident at all.

It wasn’t.

“It’s no problem,” he nods, hesitant footing making him linger in place.

The kettle flicks and your mouth opens, shutting abruptly like you were battling with yourself — questioning whether letting him in would be a mistake. But, you decide against the doubts.

“The kettle is hot,” you play with the chain on the door as you begin your offer. “I was about to make a drink… if you wanted one too?”

He nods, his response quick. It’s like he was eager, waiting for the invitation even. “Yeah, that’ll be nice.”

You smile and open your door wider, letting him into your space. He stills as he slips off his shoes, looking around your apartment as if he has just stepped inside your brain, your soul. Flat intricately decorated: artwork on the walls, lamps on almost every surface, looked after plants hanging from the ceiling, handmade items scattered almost everywhere. Anything he had previously pictured — far better. Your apartment an extension of your personality and desk at work.

“Nice place,” he says as he looks around, placing his blazer on the counter. Voice quiet like he’s in awe — eyes always seeming to land on something new.

You focus on the side of his face, watching the genuine appreciation in his features.

“Thank you,” you say softly, words heartfelt. 

No man has ever shown interest in your apartment quite like Tangerine. Your bed being the only thing that appeals to the men you’d occasionally bring back.

His eyes drift to you as he follows your voice, noticing something delicate, something somber in your tone. He twists inwards, standing in front of you. You reach for the end of his loosened tie and fiddle with the point of it, eyes cast down at your fidgeting. He too glances down, watching the mindless toying — focusing on the fabric weave between your fingers. 

He pulls his hands from his trouser pockets, reaching upwards to you with no such hesitation as before. He rests the inners of his hands over your ears, his hold on your face carefully firm as he tilts your head back, making you look at him. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re quick to return the kiss, eager to pick up from where you left off this morning. And it was noticeable. Very noticeable: strained breath, wandering touches, kisses growing deeper — all if an indication for something more.

“I really want you,” you admit through kisses, your hold on his tie rising. “Do you want me?” you question, suddenly far too aware of your own thoughts.

He parts from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, tips of noses touching. He allows a brief moment to let those words marinate in his head, questioning whether that even needed to be questioned at all.

Tangerine thumbs over your cheeks, eyes fixed on yours through the closeness. “Of course,” he whispers, voice soft and genuine. “Of course I do,” he repeats, emphasising his genuinity. 

Your grip on his tie tightens, the hold you have near the collar brings his lips closer — pulling him in to kiss you again. 

“Wait right here,” you speak against him and pull away, heading for your room.

Though he doesn’t quite listen, his brain and ears currently incapable of deciphering commands after that little act of yours. He trails after you, pausing by the sofa as he watches you search the drawers in your bedroom.

You find what you're after, holding a little square packet between index and middle finger — making your way back to him. 

“It’s ribbed,” you quip, holding it out for him to take.

“Is it now?” he chuckles, placing the condom onto the arm of the couch after giving it a quick once over.

You smile and take a step closer, hands reaching for his waist. “Yeah, and it’s my last one.”

He presses a string of soft, slow kisses to your lips, a wandering hand finding itself settling on the back of your neck. “Promise I won’t break it,” he muffles against you, grip falling down your back — trailing leisurely down the thick knit.

Stepping forwards, he follows pursuit, taking one back until he’s sitting on the sofa behind him. You stand between his parted knees and kick off your slippers, one pink sock and one purple sock covering your feet. Each of them patterned with something different. 

But your boss seems rather impatient, his perched forward seated position indicating a matter of urgency. He reaches for your waist, grip firm as he guides you closer, making you straddle one of his thighs. He slips his hands under your jumper, holding the fabric by the hem as he slowly drags it off you, pulling it off over your head. 

He places it aside, hands returning to the side of your face — pulling you back in to resume what he had started: kissing you like a man starved of touch. His palms graze to your exposed neck, travelling along your bare shoulders to slip under the straps of your dress. 

You slide a hand back into his hair, fingers toying with the curls at the back of his neck — the mindless fiddling just like your other hand situated on his lower stomach. Your touch lowers, skimming over the bulge in his trousers to casually cup his cock. 

A bubble gets caught in his throat, a faint groan being muffled between urgent moving lips. Pulling you into him, he twists, setting you lengthwise along the sofa. He moves to hover atop you, bringing one of your knees to hug at his hip, your dress rising with it. He winds himself closer between your thighs, the feel of his cock far more weighty than you had imagined it to be.

You move a hand from behind his neck and instead cup his face almost, thumb in the hollow of his cheek, index in the other — guiding his face to you like you too are starved of touch. Starved of genuine and compassionate touch. 

You kiss him with that same fervour as before. Small anticipatory, experimental rocks of your hips wind up against him, as if you're eager to alleviate the tension between your thighs.

He trails his hand down your arm and towards the hand you have on his face. Interlocking his fingers with yours, he peels it from him, simultaneously pulling from the kiss. You peer up at him precautiously, afraid of overstepping a line somehow, but those doubts are soon reassured — his lips pressing faint, light kisses into the palm of your hand. 

You watch him from your laid position, staring at the tenderness in his actions. His eyes soft and touch gentle, all the acts one would do when in love. 

“You make me feel like a real person,” he admits, voice delicate as he looks over you. Eyes flickering like they were seeking something similar in return.

“You make me feel comfortable with myself,” you too admit, participating in a moment’s honesty unaided.

With your confession, he’s placing a hand on the base of your throat, index finger slotted under your ear — holding you comfortably to press a string of kisses to your lips, each one growing sloppier and deeper. 

You wind yourself up against the chubbed up cock in his trousers, being met with a similar motion on his end. The rocking circular grind of his hips also an attempt to rid the slightest bit of tension. All of what you’re each feeling right now seeming to be overbearing. 

You snake your arms in to fit between your chests, your fingers finding themselves fiddling with the buttons of his shirt — desperately trying to get him out of it. Undoing the first few buttons and further loosening his tie, you slip them both over his head, yanking it from him needily.

He presses a final kiss to the corner of your mouth as he sits back on his heels. Perching between your spread thighs, he grabs at the hem of your dress, dragging it up the length of your body below. Mustard yellow undies and teal blue bralette being revealed for his starved eyes to see.

Leaning forward he litters a faint cluster of kisses to your middle, unable to help himself — getting distracted it appears. The pecks to your skin raise as does the fabric of your dress, kisses being planted into newly revealed patches of skin until your dress has been fully discarded.

And while he’s ridding you of your clothes, you’re trying the same with his trousers, antsy, hurried fingers finnicking with his belt.  

“Get these off,” you murmur, struggling to undress him with the obstructed view and funny angle.

He pulls from the valley of your tits where his face currently resides, head shaking faintly as he chuckles. Hand moving from your neck to his front, he unbuckles his belt with a singular hand, dropping it to the floor.

You perch yourself up slightly, resting on bent elbows behind you. Peering up at him to get a better look — you flicker over his chest, finally seeing what’s underneath those shirts. Your gaze wanders over his skin, slowly taking it all in when you notice a scar on his shoulder. A circular lightened patch of skin.

You balance on one elbow, your other arm extending towards it.

“What’s this?” you ask, voice gentle while your eyes remain firm. Your focus deep.

He looks down to his shoulder, watching your middle finger trace over the memory. The bad memory. It’s like you were somehow replacing those negative associated feelings with something positive, something loving and heartfelt.

“Did a job in Japan,” he replies, the response short, quite like he wasn’t keen to revisit old events.

You pick up on it, eyes moving to follow his when they divert. You bring your hand to your face, lips pressing a kiss to your thumb to then stamp onto his scar — sealing in a physical testament of your unexpressed love. 

His eyes soften as he watches the act play out, his heart swelling more than he thought could ever be possible. Everything you do seeming to make him swoon just that bit more.

You straighten the elbow behind you, using it to push from your laid position until you're sat upright, close to Tangerine once again. Reaching past him, you grab the condom from the arm of the sofa and tear it open. Your boss follows suit, pace hurried as he pushes down his trousers and boxers, eager to keep this moving.

His hands settle on the crook of your neck, thumbs gliding up your throat on either side, the slight force of his hold tilting your head back. As if he was far more interested in the sight of your face than what was going on between his legs. 

You reach up to kiss him as you grab a hold of his stiffened cock, giving him a few preparatory pumps. Like you’re readying him just that bit more before popping the rubber atop the head of his dick, sliding it downwards to sit snugly at the base.

You move your hands upwards, stroking along his lower stomach until your palms sit on his sides. Holding him fairly firm, you initiate the old position — keeping him close as you lean back, taking him with you. He steadies himself, an elbow bent beside your head to keep his weight off you, not so keen to crush you.

“Need to be inside you,” he murmurs into your lips, composure growing sparse. 

Letting go of your loose hold on his waist, your hands fall to your sides, just above the band of your underwear. You sneak your fingers into the elastic and tug downwards, hips lifting accordingly as you shimmy yourself out of the fabric, kicking them off your ankles. 

The hand sitting beside your throat moves to slide between you, reaching for his cock. He guides himself closer to you, neck hanging loosely as he peers down between your bodies, watching himself itch to your cunt. Once he feels his head bump against your entrance, the point of entry located — he locks eyes with you, eager to see it all in your face. See what he’s been waiting months for.

He sinks into you slowly, letting your pussy take him at its pace. Little by little until no more of him remains. The whole length of him still as his dick practically plugs you. 

“Forgive me… it’s been a while,” he mutters, forehead resting against yours. Movement halted in his hips. 

You slip your hand into his by your side. Guiding it to your face, you bring him to your lips — pressing soft, reassuring kisses into his knuckles, trying to ease him. For you it had also been a while, maybe not as long as him, but still, a substantial length of time. Especially compared to what you’re used to.

“It’s perfect, you’re perfect,” you muffle into him, kisses lowering to his fingers. Worshipping the hands that have touched pure evil, that have caused pure evil with nothing but adoration.

His gaze casts downwards as he watches you, the insurmountable pools of love he has for you visible within the softness of his eyes. All of his feelings clear. No shame or doubt behind those pretty blues. 

Tangerine rolls into you subtly, cock bumping up into you in a way that knocks the air from your lungs, in a way that momentarily makes you struggle for breath. He thumbs over your bottom and parted lip, eyes intently following the movement before he slips it into your mouth — the slight weight of it resting on your tongue. Lips wrapping around it, you hold him there.

He begins to move into you, hips winding against yours as he fills you entirely with him, slipping in and out with leisure rhythm. Each pump unsystematic and irregular, like the concept of haste was out of the question. As if the only goal was to feel you. 

He removes his thumb from between your lips, letting the tip skim across them for a short moment before pulling away, repositioning it to sit at the side of your tit. The thumb that was between your lips moves into the top of your bralette, the force of his grip tugging downwards — exposing your breast. The full weight of it sits atop the thin laced fabric. 

Your eyes follow his down to your chest, the wet pad of his thumb itches closer and closer to your nipple. He circles it languidly, the pace slow as he matches the movements to his thrusts. Pairing the motions in a way so intricate that no man with you ever has.

His head ducks as he presses a clump of kisses to the top part of your other tit, giving it similar attention.

“I—” you start, strained voice cutting short with a moan. You swallow thick like an attempt of evening your breathing, steadying yourself. “I uhm—” you try again. A surprise deep bump of his cock knocks any sense of cohesion from your brain, the air from your lungs too. The declaration you’re working up to getting scrambled.

Through your uncertain speech, he peers up at you, lips still pressed to your skin.

“I think I love you,” you whisper, admitting it aloud for the first time.

He pulls from your chest, face reaching yours as he hovers above it, nose skimming yours. “Think?” he repeats, gaze softening.

You shake your head faintly. “I love you,” you correct yourself, reaching up to kiss him.

“I love you,” he whispers to your lips, pulling away a brief second later to watch the response in your eyes.

“You do?” you sweetly question him, a smile forming as you rake through his curls — pushing strands behind his ears..

He nods. “I do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Mindless but fully intentional ‘I love you’s being muttered from your mouths, each one following after a wind of his hips. 

And before you’re even aware of it, the pattern of his thrusts grows more and more regular, the ending getting closer for you both. The pair of you reaching that said end within several moments of each other.

Tangerine’s forehead rests against your shoulder as he gives you each a second to stabilise, cock beginning to soften inside of you. You press a kiss to his bicep beside you, littering the worn muscles with something tender — absentminded little smooches to his skin as he hovers limply atop you.

His fingers brush up and down your sides, like he was offering assurance and comfort, easing you in case you were to be feeling doubts. He inhales deeply as he peels himself from you, cock also retracting from you. Tangerine kneels between your spread thighs, fingers drawing lazy lines over your knee.

You look up at him, a somewhat coy and tentative expression on your face.

“Are you leaving?” you ask, tone comparable to hurt.

“Afraid not,” he leans over, planting a kiss to your sternum.

“No?” you smile.

He tucks your breast back into your bra, smoothing over the fabric. “No,” he firmly shakes his head. He straightens his back, resuming the prior position as he reaches for his boxers. “Got a bin?” he asks, carefully yanking the condom from himself, holding it in his hand.

You shake your head as you sit, reaching for a tissue from the coffee table. “It’s in the kitchen,” you respond, handing it to him. “Don’t throw it out, though.”

He folds the used rubber in the paper, eyes narrowing at you like he was confused.

“I want to keep it,” you turn your back to him, hiding your grin as you slip on your underwear. “It’ll make a pretty suncatcher— the sun shining through the purple and on the walls. It’ll look good, don’t you think?” you pause, and turn to look at him, purposefully stiffening your expression.

“I’m sorry,” he says jocosely, the elastic of his boxers pinging as he partially clothes himself. “You want to hang my spunk… in your window?” he chuckles, pointing to your other hanging ornaments in his view. 

“I was actually joking before but now I kinda want to,” you laugh softly, lounging back against the sofa.

He steps towards you and shakes his head humorously, leaning over to press an unrushed kiss into your hairline. “What a weird thing you are.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[ PART FOUR ]

[p0orbaby]

Born to Love You Back

summary: a very important question is on the horizon

warnings: none

a/n: some rich!reader for you all

word count: 1.7k

-

The jeweller’s salon is tucked into a narrow street in the 1st arrondissement, down a street so narrow you almost missed it, the kind of place that doesn’t need signage because everyone who matters already knows where it is. The building itself is unassuming but pristine, a five-storey townhouse with cream-coloured stone, wrought-iron balconies, a double door painted a deep charcoal with brass fixtures that gleam in the waning afternoon sun. Outside, a delivery van idles, spilling faint notes of Edith Piaf from its radio as a man unloads crates of flowers: cyclamen, lilies, eucalyptus branches arranged in bursts of green and white. They’ll likely find their way to the salon’s interior within the hour, arranged with almost mathematical precision to evoke a studied nonchalance.

Inside, it’s quiet—museum-like but less sterile, hushed but alive. There’s a balance between the soft hum of conversation from another room and the faint, barely perceptible scent of lilies and leather. The floors are a herringbone parquet, polished to an impossible sheen, and the walls are panelled in dove grey. Everything about the space is designed to whisper money. Even the receptionist, stationed behind a desk lacquered to such a high gloss that it might double as a mirror. She’s mid-twenties, probably just out of university—Sciences Po, perhaps, or one of the Grandes Écoles—wearing a black crepe shift dress that hits just above the knee. Chanel, you’d bet, though it’s hard to tell from here. Her hair is sleek and straight, parted sharply in the middle, her nails painted in Rouge Noir, a colour so iconic it’s practically shorthand for Parisian sophistication. She greets you in French first, then switches to English the moment she hears your accent, though her tone remains precisely the same—warm but not too warm, deferential but not subservient.

Aurélie is waiting for you on the stairs. She’s maybe late thirties, tall, with that certain froideur that women in her line of work cultivate like a second skin. Her blazer is Saint Laurent—black, sharply tailored, peak lapels—and her silk blouse is an ivory so fine it catches the light in a way cotton never could. Her trousers skim the tops of her Louboutin heels—black patent leather, red soles so subtle they barely register. Her jewellery is minimal but deliberate: a single strand of Mikimoto pearls, their lustre so perfect they almost look artificial, and a pair of matching studs. She smiles when she greets you, her lips painted a nude so neutral it could have come from any number of Tom Ford palettes, but you’d guess Casablanca.

“This way, please,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs with a hand that’s manicured in a soft ballet pink, not a chip in sight. You follow her up, noting the faint scent of her perfume—Chanel No. 19, not a popular choice but a discerning one, with its crisp notes of galbanum and iris that feel both professional and unapologetically feminine.

On the landing, there’s a painting—a still life, maybe Cézanne, maybe a very good imitation. You don’t stop to look, but it catches your eye enough to linger in your mind as Aurélie opens a door to the second-floor where Its quieter, darker. The walls are a deep navy—Farrow & Ball, maybe Hague Blue—and the rug beneath the central display case is thick enough to swallow the sound of your footsteps. The case itself is glass-topped and backlit, the kind of lighting that renders diamonds almost supernatural in their brilliance. The rings are arranged by cut and carat, each one nestled in its own velvet slot, the symmetry of the display both calming and slightly overwhelming.

Aurélie steps aside, giving you space but remaining close enough to anticipate your needs. She stands with her hands loosely clasped in front of her, her posture immaculate.

“Take your time,” she says, standing back with the same attentive grace she’s shown since you arrived.

You nod, your gaze already falling to the rings. You’ve thought about this for weeks, maybe months, but standing here, it feels more real, the weight of the decision settling in your chest. Not because you’re uncertain—you’re not—but because this is a moment you’ll remember, whether you want to or not.

The first ring is a cushion-cut diamond, two carats, set in a band of pave diamonds. Platinum, naturally. The proportions are flawless, the craftsmanship impeccable, but as you turn it in the light, you know immediately it’s wrong. Too ornate. Too eager. Alexia would hate it. You imagine her wearing it for a moment, and the thought feels so ridiculous you almost laugh. She doesn’t like excess, at least not in the obvious sense. Her taste is clean, modern, unfussy.

The second ring is pear-shaped, slightly smaller, but with a brilliance that draws your eye. The stone feels alive under the light, its facets catching every subtle movement of your hand. For a moment, you hesitate, thinking about how it would look on her hand, but then you remember something she said once, flipping through a magazine in bed: “Pear cuts are too delicate. They look like they’re trying too hard.”

You sigh, not quite aloud, but enough for Aurélie to notice. She steps closer, just enough to offer a quiet suggestion. “Does she have a preference?” she asks, her tone light, neutral. “For the setting, or the cut?”

“She likes things simple,” you say, the words coming out more clipped than you mean them to. It’s not her fault, this unease you feel. “Classic, but not boring”

Aurélie nods, her expression unchanged, and steps back again. You wonder if she can sense the weight of what you’re doing—if she’s seen enough of this to know the signs. The third ring catches your eye before you reach for it. A round brilliant diamond, 1.8 carats, set in a plain platinum band. No pave, no halo, no embellishments. It’s striking in its simplicity, the kind of ring that doesn’t need to assert itself because it knows what it is. You pick it up, holding it to the light, and as you turn it, something settles in you. This is the one. You don’t need to overthink it.

Aurélie smiles faintly, as though she already knew. “Shall I prepare it for you?” she asks.

You nod, handing it back, and she takes it with both hands, disappearing into a back room.

While she’s gone, you pull out your phone. You shouldn’t call her—she’s probably still at training, her mind on drills and tactics—but you do it anyway. She answers on the third ring, her voice steady but soft, with that familiar cadence you’ve missed more than you’d care to admit.

“Hey,” she says, her voice clear, grounded, with just the faintest lilt of distraction. In the background, there’s a low murmur of voices, the familiar thud of a ball meeting turf, maybe a coach shouting something that’s swallowed up by the wind. You imagine the sun slicing through the Catalan sky, the kind of relentless brightness that makes the whole city shimmer.

“Hey,” you reply, smoothing nonexistent creases from your blazer out of habit, though no one is watching. Your reflection in the polished glass of the display case looks composed, disinterested, but the sound of her voice pulls something taut inside you. “How’s training?”

“Same as always,” she says, and there’s a pause—just long enough for you to hear her exhale softly, almost imperceptibly. You know she’s stepped aside, moved to some quieter corner of the training complex where no one will overhear. She’s careful like that, never careless, always aware of her surroundings.

“Still exhausting?” you ask, and she laughs under her breath—a low, warm sound that lingers longer than it should.

“Mhm,” she hums, the sound of it makes you smile despite yourself. “But it’s a good kind of exhausting. You know how it is”

“Not sure I do,” you tease, leaning against the edge of the display case, its surface cool against your hand. “I can’t say I’ve run laps around a pitch lately. Unless you count running several businesses as exercise”

“Of course,” she says, dry but affectionate, “such an athlete. Truly inspiring”

The corner of your mouth twitches upward. “I aim to impress”

There’s a faint rustle of movement on her end—maybe she’s leaning against a wall, maybe adjusting the strap of her training bib. You picture her in that effortless way she carries herself: shorts sitting just right, socks perfectly rolled down, hair tied back in that half-loose, half-styled way that only someone like her can pull off.

“Where are you?” she asks, not because she doesn’t know, but because it’s the kind of question you ask when you want the conversation to last a little longer.

“Near Rue de la Paix,” you say, keeping it vague. “Finishing up a meeting”

“You’re always finishing up a meeting,” she says, and there’s a lightness to her tone, but it doesn’t quite hide the subtext.

“You’re always training,” you counter, matching her tone, and you hear her chuckle, soft but genuine.

“Buen punto”

There’s a brief pause. In the background, someone calls her name, a voice you don’t recognise, and she responds with a quick, sharp “Un momento.” The way she switches languages so fluidly—it’s seamless—and yet it reminds you, in a small but certain way, that her world is different from yours. Barcelona, with its golden afternoons and relentless sun, its terracotta rooftops and restless streets, feels a thousand miles away from the polished stillness of this Parisian jewellers.

“You should,” you encouraged knowing full well she’ll make no move to end the call herself.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asks, and it’s a question, but not really.

“Of course,” you say, without hesitation this time.

There’s another silence after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence you could live in, one where nothing needs to be said because the words are already understood. Finally, she says, “Te quiero,” and you hear the faint click as she ends the call.

Aurélie returns with the ring, now nestled in a velvet box so pristine it looks almost untouched by human hands. You slip it into your pocket, the weight of it grounding you, and leave the salon with a nod of thanks.

Outside, Paris feels sharper, brighter. The air smells faintly of rain and burnt sugar from a nearby crepe stand, and the light is just beginning to soften as dusk approaches. For the first time all day, you feel steady.

[littencloud9]

i think something alnst does fantastically is the opposing natures between the established duos

ivan is raised to be perfect, hes a model, hes the prospected winner only second to luka, hes the fan favourite. but till is wild and aggressive and passionate—this is where his ‘uncanny’ talent comes from, from the heart. but towards the end, it is ivan that throws this carefully-crafted behaviour to the wind, it is ivan who displays till’s outrageous nature.

luka is alnst’s golden boy. perfect. successful. all this because he plays the system well. he understands exactly what they want and performs exactly that. but hyuna fights to break out of the system. one that thrives and one that challenges. and at the end of the day, hyuna crawls back onto that same stage she swore to destroy, and luka is staring at the reason for that destruction. both of them had everything they worked for taken away by each other

this is why mizisua’s story is so jarring (/pos) to me. these girls wanted to be equals to the end. their song is haunting because it isn’t a competition, it’s a duet. it’s a story of two girls who always stand on the same ground, from the grassy fields to the stage. everything about them is even. thus it is important for their match to be the first. their separation defines the tragedy of alnst—even if your souls are completely intertwined, they can be torn apart by one measly point. but isn’t that what makes it all so entertaining?

[cheapshrimpysheep]

You Will Stop the Wedding! - Vil Schoenheit

SUMMARY: YOU were the one being kidnapped by Princess Eliza to marry her. How would he react and how would he save you? With the aggravation of he already having a crush on you.

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Declaration

WORD COUNT: 1.155 words

Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia

Rescuing You - Deuce Spade; Jack Howl; Floyd Leech; Kalim Al-Asim

COMMENTS: What have I done? Why did I commit to writing this? And why did I write so much? Why was I so inspired? There were seven of them! Why do I do this to myself? So yeah, this took me a long time. But I hope it was worth it, for me and for you.

CONTEXT: Someone was kidnapped to marry some ghost princess and might end up turning into a ghost too. And he just found out that someone was you.

Vil wondered who in the entire school would be chosen as the princess's partner instead of him. With someone like him at school, who the heck did they kidnap if they were looking for the perfect person for the princess?

And then he hears your name, and his eyes widen. On the one hand, he now understands. After all, if he himself fell in love with you, who wouldn't? But on the other hand, his pride was still a little hurt. But more importantly, he needed to save you!

When rescue groups are formed, he asks to be in the last one. He knows he will be the best choice for this operation because he is an actor, but to create the perfect “romantic interest”, after all, your life was at risk, he first needed to understand what the princess's “character” was like.

When it's the last group's turn, whenever someone needs to stay behind to tie up the ghosts, Vil tells one of the others to do it. He always displays such confidence and leadership that the others simply followed his orders and stayed behind. One of the boys in the group was Rook, so it was clear that he would follow Vil's orders. Vil ends up being the only one to arrive at the ceremony hall.

Following the plan and after studying the princess's "character", Vil gets into character even before opening the door. He opens the door with a bang and orders them to stop the wedding. And in the first few sentences you already got an uncanny shiver.

“STOP THE WEDDING! Princess! I cannot bear this! My heart cannot bear to see you marrying someone else. Please, my wonderful princess, I beg you to at least give me a chance to prove myself to be a good partner to you!” And he was even being so dramatic talking.

But you couldn't deny that he was an excellent actor. Anyone who doesn't know him, the princess for example, would never realize he was acting. But you knew him, and so you had to try hard not to laugh at how strange that was. He was acting so well it looked like he was possessed. And worse, he was playing... ROOK?

You were controlling yourself not to laugh, but some of the students petrified by the princess's slap weren't. And they burst into laughter, especially Leona and Floyd. “Pay these poor rejects no attention, my sweet princess.” Vil continued “They are merely jealous of whoever is worthy of standing next to you at the altar.” He was even imitating some of Rook's gestures, which only made the others laugh even more.

Vil did everything the princess asked of him. He sang with her, answered her questions with the answers he thought she wanted to hear and which from her reaction seemed right. But it seemed like she was never satisfied. Why did it never end? What was going wrong? And it was then that she said that Vil would definitely be a wonderful prince, but she had already chosen you.

“WHAT?! You can not be serious!” Now, the Vil you knew was back, and he was pissed. “I do all this, I answer all these nonsense questions, I try to act in a way that pleases you and it's all for nothing?!” Even the princess was scared by his change in behaviour. And the guards placed themselves in defensive positions. The princess asks what happened to him, what was going on?

“I tell you what is going on. I'm here doing my best to convince a delusional princess to accept me as her husband so I can save the real person I care about and yet I'm rejected after having so much patience with a spoiled girl!” The princess is horrified to know that it was all just an act, she had really believed it, she even starts to cry. And of course, the guards threaten Vil. “Cry all you want, it doesn't bother me, I came here to save (Y/N) and that's what I'm going to do. One way or another.”

And then, a fight between the ghosts and Vil begins. Which he could have almost won if it weren't for that guard who turned into a giant ghost. He suggested that the princess give Vil the slap to petrify him, but she did nothing for a moment. Afterwards, she said that what Vil did was the most evil thing anyone had ever done to her. Playing with someone's feelings like that.

“I know it's one of the ugliest things I've ever done. But I wasn't just playing. I was trying to save the person you kidnapped.” She asks if he can act so well, how would you know if what he says he feels for you is real? He looks at you, confidently, with a loving look and his soft smile. “They know.” He may be an excellent actor, but you know he’s not a liar.

And, out of nowhere, the princess started to feel sorry for herself and jealous of you. She also wanted someone to do all that for her. Pretending to be someone else just to save you, even if it meant being away from you forever. (In the Vils head he was like: Actually I was going to put a ring on your finger to send you alone to the afterlife, but of course, think whatever you want.) And this was the opportunity that the guard who was in love with her found to declare himself. He said he wasn't that good of an actor, but that if he had to, he would do his best. And that whole ending of the princess realizing that she loved him too happens, they get married and happily ever after.

After everything and while the first-years were getting ready to tidy up and clean the cafeteria, you asked Vil to wait a bit. You leave the room so you can talk alone. He looks at you from top to bottom and started fixing your clothes and hair.

“One thing I must admit, those ghosts had some fashion sense.” When he finishes he takes a step back and looks at you. He smiles. “You sure are beautiful.” You throw yourself at him to hug him. “*Sigh* I just fixed your clothes.” but he still hugged you back. “I should teach you some self-defence techniques. It seems like you are becoming too attractive with my help.” Just in case, you ask him if he is really flirting with you at that moment. “Firstly, you don't seem too bothered by it so I assume I'm allowed to do it. And secondly, I'm not Rook. Do you really think I would praise anyone else like this, sweet potato?”

Vil highly values his face. For this reason, you are probably the only person he would let kiss him, both on the cheeks and lips.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[hai7ani]

i know you may have been busy lately, more so considering you got a job and congratulations on that!!

but i reallyyy need to ask for a fluff rindou one crying bc of how utterly gorgeous his wife looked on their wedding day and getting all shy around her after the wedding for days because he’s got a like crush on his own wife

you don’t HAVEEEE TOOO, it’s on you to do it:33and if you’ll do it then take your time bbg, no worries here :b

Rindou hasn't always been a very vocal person.

He's reserved and he doesn't speak a lot unless he's pissed or he just has to answer a question directed at him. It's not that he's selective when it comes to talking 一 he just doesn't know what to say and what even is there to say. But he speaks smoothly to you when he calls you at work in the middle of the day, he speaks clear with his family to plan for cake and coffee, he speaks mumbling to your cat sometimes when she's magically made her way onto his shoulder and sitting there while watching him prep her meal like a curious little bird.

He's weird in a way that you find endearing all the time. He likes collecting Legos that he proudly displays in one little corner of the house even though he's almost 35 and he enjoys giving unsolicited commentary on how stupid and blinded by love the main lead is (who happens to be your favourite) on the sappy romcoms you like watching on Friday nights after work just to see your nostrils flare before chewing his ear off on why the main lead just did what they did. He eats his food like he's just trying to get it over with and he lets hamburger sauce drip all over the table, yet he always wipes your mouth when he sees steak sauce leaking out the corner of your mouth.

Lately his new weird habit is following you around the house. He likes to stand behind you quietly and you'd knock into his chest or step on his toes after giving you a shock. It pisses you off because you don't want to accidentally hurt him if you were in the kitchen handling hot water or is holding something sharp. But he kisses your frown away and continues doing it until you slowly get used to him showing up behind you all of a sudden.

He's also been really annoying about his appearance lately. He keeps getting you to dye his hair black again and again (like, every end of the week when the black fades because he keeps washing his hair everyday) over the sink because his greys are coming out and he makes you trim his hair too while you're at it. He's been spending a lot of time shopping for cologne and browsing through Zara Men because you mentioned once the Jo Malone sample he sprayed on a few weeks ago when he ran out of other perfumes smelled really nice on him and wow, this K-Pop idol's fashion sense is so neat.

Today the ring on your finger feels a little bit heavier than usual and you phone him sobbing to come back as soon as he can. He comes home with fried chicken and heat pads and he drops it all on the ground when he finds you cocooned in your blanket on the ground watching Corpse Bride. "I feel so bad for Emily." You're crying to him the minute he takes off his shoes and he sighs in exasperation when you keep replaying the same scene where Victor was yelling at Emily. "Fucking Victor again." He joins you in your cocoon shortly after showering really quickly and switches the movie to The Notebook instead because he knows you still haven't cried enough today. The fried chicken is soggy and your tears won't stop and he's nothing but patient and sweet when he pats on your back and letting you wet his shirt with what even you can recognise as hearts in his eyes.

"I just missed you a lot today." You blow your nose, noisy and hiccuping into your handkerchief. "Me too." It's really soft when it's murmured into your neck and it's almost as if he is the one who'd phoned for you to cone home and hug with him.

"You see me everyday." You jab a finger into his chest and he flinches. "What? I can't miss you but you can?"

"You can, yes." The scene pops up in your head again and you laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Remember? You were crying just like me on our wedding一"

"Oh, shut up. That was months ago一 ages ago."

"Me shut up? Look at you, you're still acting like we got married yesterday. Look at how tight you're hugging me. You're like 29 again at our first date following me around the DVD store. What was it again? You liked my perfume? I asked if you liked me too and you got so red. And, as if you don't always look at me now like you wanna一"

You see YouTube appearing on screen and he's typing in Thai advertisements一

"Stop!" You try snatching the remote away from his hand but he's quicker and a video is already playing.

"You're less annoying when you cry."

Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

Oh, well. Your husband's weird like that anyway. And you match him just fine.

Wrote something a little different than what was asked but here it isssssss he's more of a loser husband than a shy husband here ☹️☹️☹️ i love him so much

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick • hoseok's pov ch 5

➝  a/n: thank you so much to anon for this commission!! ❤️ this is hoseok's pov from when the mc visits his shop all the way back in chapter five of lovesick. i hope you enjoy! ➝  word count: 2.7k ➝ content warning: yandere behavior, stalker behavior, allusions to kidnapping. ➝ Lovesick Masterlist

Hoseok flips the cloth in his hand, sighing, as he scrubs at a particularly difficult stain. He knew that wooden counters wouldn't necessarily be the easiest thing to keep clean when he picked them out for the shop, but his employees had convinced him that some things just had to be done for the aesthetic. He finds himself deeply regretting being swayed by that now. There's no way he'll be able to clean up the rest of the storre in time for closing and that means he'll have to stay behind, once again missing his window to watch his soulmate cook dinner.

Hoseok's brows furrow as he remembers the steel chain he noticed last time he tried to venture up on the building that's across from yours, the door to the roof suddenly locked.

He will have to pick up some bolt cutters soon to get his vantage point back.

It was just by chance that Hoseok had tried the door leading up to it a few months ago, desperate for even a glimpse of his soulmate. He had no idea if your apartment even faced the street but by a stroke of luck (or perhaps, fate), the roof offered him a direct line of sight into your kitchen – making it the perfect place to watch you as you make dinner. You seemed to mostly be a creature of habit too, which made it easy for Hoseok to time just when he needed to be there.

Hoseok pushes his rolled-up sleeves further above his elbow, putting more force behind his movements as he works on the stubborn spot.

Someone must have seen him up there or heard him walk around if they decided to block it off, and that just won't do. He'll have to figure out a way to keep that door permanently open and accessible. He won't be denied the chance to admire you from afar. It's the thought of seeing you that keeps him going day after day, one tedious shift after another.

Hoseok is mulling every possible option over in his head when he suddenly hears the sound of footsteps moving closer.

Startled, he looks up, expecting to see another middle-aged man rushing in just before closing because he 'forgot' his anniversary and needs a last-minute gift for his wife.

Instead, Hoseok is greeted with the wondrous sight of you walking up to him, a tentative smile on your face. For all the times he has watched you from afar, it's nothing compared to seeing you this close – feeling your presence in the same room. 

His heart is pounding as he drinks you in, the subtle scent of your perfume just tickling his nose from where you're standing on the opposite side of the counter.

You're the most beautiful creature Hoseok has ever laid his eyes upon. He truly can't do anything else but grin as he's gifted with your appearance. It seems that fate is smiling upon him today.

Hoseok quickly chucks the cloth under the counter, into the bucket below. He uses his apron to dry off the dampness on his skin, internally cursing that he didn't have time to make himself look more presentable for you.

“Welcome to Hope chocolaterie! How may I help you today?” Hoseok asks. Fondness seeps into his voice as he looks at you, colouring his tone with more warmth than he normally bestows upon anyone.

Hoseok watches as your smile falters, your eyes rapidly scanning over the display between you until something seems to catch your gaze. A sliver of surprise passes over your face so quickly Hoseok would've been sure to miss it if he wasn't looking, but there is nothing that captures his attention more than you.

The elation he felt as you walked into the store quickly flips to concern as you let out a choked cough, your voice strained as you ask about one of the shop's gift boxes.

"We do have quite a few people coming in to buy them every day, but it's not the most popular gift box we have," Hoseok shrugs. 

He uses the opportunity to lean against the counter, feigning sheepishness in order to smell more of your gentle, tantalizing scent. “It’s, well, mainly older men who buy them in a poor attempt to win over their wives after they’ve done something stupid.”

For some reason Hoseok can't fathom, the answer seems to make you uncomfortable. A bout of panic washes over him as he realizes you might leave now that you know, that you might walk out of his shop with a strained impression of him just because his self-restraint slipped.

“Would you like to try some?” Hoseok gestures to the display, desperate to salvage the conversation in any way that he can. He won't let those sorry excuses for men taint his first real meeting with his soulmate.

”No, thank you,” You wave him off, your voice cracking, ”You’re closing soon, I don’t want to keep you.”

“You’re not!” Hoseok's mind races as he tries to come up with a plausible excuse to have you stay longer, ”We tend to get a lot of late shoppers so our opening times are never set in stone. And we always offer new customers free samples – it’s part of our policy.”

It's just a quick glance, your gaze barely lingering on the display before moving back to him, but Hoseok knows that is enough if he just pushes a little more. He knows you.

So, he leans one arm on the counter, upping the theatrics a little as he whispers loudly, ”The boss will get upset if you refuse, I could lose my job over this!”

“Aren’t you the boss?”

Hoseok is nothing short of delighted to learn that you actually know who he is; that some part of you still found him interesting enough to remember his face even though you're unaware of the bond.

He rests a hand over his heart, trying to calm the rapid pace of it as he says, “I sure am! And as the owner, I do insist that you try a few bites. It’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t.”

You give in easily, just like Hoseok suspected you would.

He wastes no time in grabbing a plate, picking out a small selection of the chocolates he has a feeling you'll like. He takes extra care as he plates the one shaped like a heart, his most special creation so far. It was created with you in mind, all of his best ingredients and talent going into making it as perfect as possible – as perfect as you.

”Here you go, I picked out a few I think you'll like!”

Your fingers brush against Hoseok's as you take the plate with a soft thank you. The bond makes itself known as you touch, a spark of electricity buzzing up the length of Hoseok's arm, all the way to his heart. The short moment of contact is enough to force all of Hoseok's deepest wants and desires up to the surface, the itch under his skin urging him to take, take, take.

Hoseok grips the counter tightly, making sure the pleasant mask on his face doesn't slip. He shouldn't do anything rash right now, not when the bond made you so surprised. It's not time, not yet.

He watches silently as you shake off the feeling, taking stock of the plate in your hand before you go straight for the one shaped like a heart.

Hoseok holds his breath as you pop it into your mouth, a myriad of emotions flickering across your face as you take in the different flavors and how they pair together. He knows you'll like it, that the bond won't steer him wrong, but he still feels a small surge of relief as he sees your eyes sparkle at the taste.

Hoseok chuckles, proud, as he says, ”It’s good, right? We didn’t win all of those awards for nothing.”

Frankly, Hoseok has never cared much for empty compliments, letting them go in one ear and out the other. But hearing your sweet words of praise as you try out the different pieces is enough to make him feel like he's floating, his body positively thrumming with happiness. 

Hoseok's heavy gaze never strays from your mouth as you eat, intent to commit every twitch of your lips to memory. Once you're done, he leans back on his heels, a quiet anticipation buzzing under his skin as he finally asks, ”So, do you have any favourites? Are there any flavours that stood out to you?”

“They were all really good,” You respond, ”Hm, but I think I prefer the first one, the heart, the most.”

Hoseok's own heart picks up speed at that, a smug satisfaction washing over him as he takes in how earnest you are. He knew it. It's only right that you would like that one the most, that your soul would recognize the care and love Hoseok poured into its creation.

“Really?” Hoseok grins, "It’s a recent addition, but I thought you might like that one the best!”

As Hoseok reaches forward to take the plate back, he notices your gaze straying down to his chest, to the golden chain that has slipped out from his shirt. He swiftly tucks it back beneath his shirt, patting down the dark fabric to make sure it doesn’t slip out again as he disposes of your empty plate.

Hoseok had been too blinded by your presence before, too caught up in marveling at your face, to really take stock of what you're wearing. Your coat has been slipped off since you entered, revealing your bare collarbones and wrists.

That can't be right.

“You don’t wear any jewelry?” He asks flatly, eyebrows rising at the sight of your unadorned skin.

The fact that you're not wearing any of his gifts leaves a bitter sting, something displeased and heavy building steadily in the pit of his stomach.

You shake your head, ”Only on special occasions. I’m too clumsy and forgetful to use it on a daily basis, I would just end up either losing or ruining everything I own.”

Oh.

You must adore his gifts so much that you can't bear the thought of losing them.

The anger dissipates just as quickly as it arrives, the hard lines on Hoseok's face softening as he says, ”So you do it to protect your jewelry, then.”

“I-I, well, yeah I guess so."

The small stutter is adorable and the sudden shyness as you advert your eyes, from what Hoseok can only assume is you embarrassed of letting him know that you care, just makes him all the more fond.

”I would really like to buy a box of those heart-shaped chocolates if it’s not too late.”

Hoseok smiles as you try to divert his attention.

"Of course not!" He obliges easily, all too happy to send you home with a box filled with chocolates that he made specifically just for you.

Hoseok pauses his movements as you suddenly clear your throat, his gaze snapping from the display to your face instantly. He watches as you tilt your head toward the box you asked about earlier, ”Do you happen to have any regulars who buy that gift box often?”

It's an odd question and Hoseok finds it even more peculiar that it's still lingering on your mind.

“Why would you like to know?” Hoseok frowns, the silver tongs in his hand snapping closed with a sharp sound as he drops the piece of chocolate he was holding.

Something uneasy passes over your face, a shadow clouding your normally bright eyes as you admit, “The thing is, I’ve been receiving that particular gift box for months, but I have no idea who’s been giving them to me."

Hoseok feels his stomach flip, an ugly feeling taking over as you continue, “I really want to thank them but that’s impossible when I don’t know who’s behind them. They take the secret in secret admirer a little too seriously."

The airy giggle you let out sounds forced. Fake. Hoseok knows you're lying to him, that you're not enjoying the attention this 'secret admirer' is giving you. This person must be out of their mind trying to court his soulmate. Hoseok has never noticed anyone suspicious entering your building whenever he's been watching you, but the window is too small. There's too much time in the day where he isn't there, where he has no clue who's entering or exiting.

Hoseok is nothing short of livid that this has been happening right under his nose for months and he had no idea until just now.

“A secret admirer, huh?”

A humourless smirk tugs at Hoseok's lips as he turns back to the container in his hand, resuming his work of finishing up the box you ordered. He’s clutching the silver tongs so hard that they groan under his grip as he picks up the last piece, the edges of the chocolate beginning to crack before he shoves it into place with the rest.

He slides the box across the counter, letting out a controlled, slow breath through his nose as he turns to the cash register. He can't let you know just how much this upsets him, not when you're supposed to be strangers. He'll just have to figure out a way to deal with this quietly and quickly.

Hoseok uses a little more force than intended as he rings you up, his brewing anger making his fingers hammer against the touch screen. He makes sure to give you a hefty discount, knowing that there's no way you would ever accept it for free. You're just too kind to do something like that.

Hoseok already knows that you would be worried about something silly like him not being able to pay himself or his employees if he gives it to you for free. While he does admire your selflessness, Hoseok is determined to make you see that being a little selfish is fine. You deserve to take and not just give.

You swipe your card, keeping your eyes on the machine until it confirms your payment.

Hoseok doesn't want your interaction to end just yet but he's out of excuses to keep you in the shop longer. If he drags it out too much, you'll start getting suspicious. You are a very clever woman, after all.

Still, Hoseok can't help himself, desperate for another minute of breathing the same air as you as he says, “I can’t help you with that I’m afraid, I don’t keep track of what my customers buy."

He shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts that are shouting at him to not let you walk out that door, to keep you with him where it's safe.

“But–” Hoseok adds, crossing his arms over his chest to restrain himself, "If it’s that important to you to figure out who it is then I guess I can keep an eye out and note down the customers who buy them frequently.”

"Really?! Thank you so much!" Your relief is palpable, the twinkle in your gaze once again returning.

All because of him.

"Just note down your information here and I'll contact you if anything comes up."

"I really appreciate that, thank you," You say, flashing him a sweet smile as you write down your name and number.

It pains Hoseok to stick to his resolve as you bid him goodbye, his body and soul itching to not let you go. He returns your smile despite his urge to grimace, wishing you well even though he'd rather stick to your side to ensure that it does.

The moment you're out of sight, Hoseok's kind smile drops.

He's furious that your first meeting was marred by some secret admirer who doesn't know their place; that you're so disturbed by it that you even went to his shop in hopes that you might figure out who it is. Hoseok doesn't believe for a second that you want to thank them, it's clear that you just want them gone.

He won't let anyone come between your bond – he won't let anyone mess with his soulmate.

Maybe it is time for Hoseok to step up his game. And if he can't figure out who it is then, well, he can always remove you from the situation and bring you somewhere safe.

Somewhere it'll only be you and him.

Yes, Hoseok thinks, picking up the discarded cloth to once again scrub at the difficult spot on the counter, That's his best plan yet.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - In which we all feel the collective meh

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Feb 2025 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Boy Next World (Sun IQIYI) ep 8 of 10 - so the premise is such fun! It's like "if the red thread was a multiverse." I guess that makes it a 4th dimensional red tapestry? All the parallel world Cirs interconnected via a shared dream world and trying to manifest their relationships with their respective Phus via interference from the ones who have figured it out. I like it. Makes me wonder if the mastermind Cir lost his Phu and that is why he's so vested in fixing the relationship in all the other timelines. That said this was a relatively boring episode with Cir mostly in the hospital and lots of plot talking. Yet still fun because of this premise. Especially at the back end.

ThamePo (Fri YT) ep 12 of 13 - Nice to see Po being savage to his ex, his first major OGT. Bit of a sadsack of an episode though. Looking forward to next week.

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 18 of 24 - I love these two together so much I can’t stand it. Also the bathroom trope scene was particularly lovely. Great lighting in that bathroom.

Flirt Milk (Sat YT) ep 6 or 10 - This show is not good. The seme is overly aggressive, but I still like the sides. The more time we spend with anyone but the leads, the happier I am. 

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 8 of 12 - I don’t even have the energy to get annoyed that they put my beautiful Thor in a terrible wig. This show has already stretched my annoyance to the max, no more fucks to give.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Secret Relationships (Korea iQIYI) ep 1 of 8 - Stars Wei's Kim Jun Seo. Adapted by Cradle Studio (Kakao). This displaying all signs of a classic Kdrama: Office setting, love triangle, lead suffering for his self-actualization. And as a result I absolutely love it. This one was entirely made for me. I love a lead suffering because of his situation. I love that all the boys are interested. I love that there’s lingering crushes and long-standing misunderstandings. Everything about this appeals to me. 

Eternal Butler (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - Queer robots are the best robots. Also, have I mentioned recently that I love a good butt slap? Very underutilized move in BL. Thank you Taiwan. Wow Kevin’s English is perfect. I mean i expect the best of Taiwan but this is the best. (Inquiring minds want to know if it is all those international competitions he flexed at?) Also perfectly kinky. 

FC Soldout (Korea Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - New boy is very sus. But I like him for it. Adore the sides! Must be so novel for an idol to have someone tell him he actually needs to eat. Wild. How gay is this damn football team? 

Fight for Love (Vietnam YT) ep 4 - it’s perfectly serviceable. Which seems to be a lot to ask of Vietnamese BL right now so... yay!?

Impression of Youth (Taiwan Weds Viki) ep 8 of 9 - Well, hello side couple. That was very nice. Thank you Taiwan. Meanwhile, I'm over here idly wondering if Will Wen could be persuaded to pull a hat trick and appear in a Thai BL and a KBL as well as this one - since he apparently speaks most major BL languages fluently.

The stuff dreams are made of.

Heart Stain (Korea Weds IQIYI) eps 7-8 end - this classic love triangle KBL had a classic separation in the final eps, nobody is surprised. But 4 years is a long time to pine. 

Conclusion:

This was a serviceable high school KBL, based on the love triangle standards for which Kdramas inevitably wave the last flag. It was mildly enjoyable if you don’t mind a triangle, certainly earnest, if somewhat forgettable with a lackluster ending. 7/10

Checkered Shirt (Korea YT) ep 4 of 8 - This episode was very rough going. How annoying. But also now realistic. Not that I want realism in my BL.

Exclusive Love (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 4 of 12 - this is all a lot darker than I thought it was going to be from Taiwan. Although it still remains primarily just very weird. Also not enough of the second couple in this episode.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 20 end - well it was the final episode last week so here we go! <rant>

Judgement

An interesting premise with two decent couples that failed to commit to the BL side of the equation and thus got mired in a never-ending commentary on bullying. The show could’ve been 8 eps and covered exactly the same material. The entire relationship arc (stepbrothers, my FAVORITE, argh) hinged on lack of communication. And that’s just the beginning of the mire of frustrating flaws. An all round bummer of a show, because the chemistry was decent. This is not a romance and there is no happy ending so don’t expect one. I wasted my damn time and I’m mad about it. Don't make the same mistake. 3/10

It's airing but......

Gelboys (Thai Weds iQIYI) ep 1 of 7 - I’m giving this show a pass. It’s just too far out of my wheelhouse. I don’t have patience right now.

Sashes and Hearts (Pinoy YT) - Philippines is doing Drop Dead Gorgeous only all gay boys queening their asses off. I'm wathing this only if I feel like it.

The Last Time (Thai WeTV) trailer - from 2024, not sure about this one, looks dark. Since it's also difficult for me to get hold of I am giving it a pass until I know about the ending.

A Perfect Match (Taiwan iQIYI) - A not very well regarded Taiwanese sports BL from earlier this year picked up for rerelease. Anyone watched it and like it? Not sure if I should bother.

In Case You Missed it

End of 2024 wraps are here (last chance to read):

2024 Trend Report

MY BEST & WORST BLs of 2024

Best Kisses (and sex scenes) of 2024

BL's 2024 Quirky Awards

2024 Awards - Quick Picks

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming March 2025

3/2 Last Meal Universe (Thailand Sun ????) 10 eps - Trailer. An alien who has come to destroy earth instead falls in love with Thai food and then the Thai boy who cooks it - realistic, actually.

3/12 My Golden Blood (Thailand Weds YouTube) 12 eps - Trailer. GMMTV taking on Weds nights and midweek discourse (they hope) with this hotly anticipated vampire series. I happen to find Joss watchable but this looks very bad and also very Kissable Lips. But at least Thailand is finally giving us the trashy gay vampires we richly deserve? Just realize we don't deserve much.

3/12 Lost in the Woods (Thailand Weds Gaga) 7 eps - Announced for 2023, adapted from a novel of the same name. Fifa just graduated high school and travels to a remote province to take care of his grandma, before starting uni. There he meets Chief Hem, a forest ranger.

3/20 Top Form (Thailand Thurs WeTV) ?? eps - Trailer Adaptation of a Japanese manga. Boom (Chains of Heart) opposite Smart (Don't Say No). Actor recognized as the "The Sexiest Man of the Year" has his first-place position usurped by newcomer. But while he sees them as rivals, turns out the new kid has other ideas. I'm super excited for this but hate watching on WeTv so gonna be a challenge.

3/28 Heesu in Class 2 (Korea Fri ????) 10 eps - Adaption of the comic by Lily, about a shy unpopular boy with a secret crush on best friend who somehow also ends up his school's relationship counselor. Supposed to have completed filming in 2022, the fact this has been in dev hell since then somewhat mitigates this being my most anticipated BL of 2022. I still kinda doubt we are actually getting it but new stills have been released (so something got filmed in the last 3 years).

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Got nothing. Another unmemorable week.

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[dlxadv]

By putting these displays in the right places and arranging them well, you can make your store better and sell more, making the most of your space.

[pinkeoni]

Will & Billy: The Child and the Shadow

I recently read a book of essays from sci-fi and fantasy writer, Ursula K. Le Guin. Her essay "The Child and the Shadow" opens with a recount of a short story by Hans Christian Anderson, in which a man physically separates himself from his shadow. To keep a short story even shorter, neither the man nor his shadow is able to live a fulfilling life without the other. They need each other, both the light and the shadow, to be whole.

In season 2, the same season where Will is being haunted by a mysterious shadow, we are introduced to another William: Billy.

Will and Billy never have any meaningful interactions, or any real interactions at all, yet their stories are given so many interest similarities that are hard to ignore. They both come form abusive fathers, they both fell into possession by Vecna/the Mind Flayer, and of course, they both share the same name.

I think that, at least on a subconscious level, Will and Billy are meant to serve as two halves of one whole William. The light and dark. The child and the shadow.

Despite their similarities, Billy and Will are noticeably much different people. Will is kind and sensitive, but we've also seen how he often lets people walk all over him and withholds his feelings from others. Billy is confident and outgoing, but he's also aggressive and abusive.

I think the biggest difference between Will and Billy is their individual sexuality, and how those affect both how they act and how they are perceived. Will is ostracized from the towns people and referred to as Zombie Boy, which I've explained in a separate post how this ties into the eighties small town homophobia. Will is also sexually repressed, not being able to or allowing himself to display any of these desires. Billy is well received by the town from the get go, and wears his sexuality on his sleeve. We get a line from Max in season 3 indicating that Billy has frequent sexual encounters.

But his desire and selfishness is also what leads him to his demise. Billy is possessed while on his way to a steamy encounter with Mrs. Wheeler, a woman he knows is married. While this affair isn't necessarily a direct cause for his possession, I do think it's meant to be a consequence for his actions.

Will's problem in season 2 has to do with his emotional repression, he isn't able to tell his mother about the Mind Flayer until it's too late. And while I think that his possession might have been inevitable even if he had told her, what ends up freeing Will in the end is his family (and Nancy).

Le Guin uses both Jungian philosophy and Taoist beliefs to explain this idea of light and shadow, and how it applies to fiction. She explains that the journey of the hero is not dictated purely by light, but by the discovery of both.

"The only way for a youngster to get past the paralyzing self-blame and self-disgust of this stage is really go look at that shadow, to face it, warts and fangs and pimples and claws and all—to accept it as himself—as part of himself. The ugliest part, but not the weakest. For the shadow is the guide. The guide inward and out again; downward and up again; there, as Bilbo the Hobbit said, and back again. The guide of the journey to self-knowledge, to adulthood, to the light."

In keeping with Le Guin's Taoist beliefs, I believe that Will and Billy are meant to be these two halves of Yin and Yang. Will, the light, and Billy, the dark. But the two halves stand alone, unable to be whole. I wish that the show could have given us interactions between Will and Billy, especially in season 3. I think that their similar histories could have lead to interesting conversations.

Billy's darkness ultimately leads to his demise. He is maybe able to see the light at the very end, but it's too late, and the consequence of Billy's exploits ends in his death, where he is quite literally killed by the shadow itself.

I'm not saying that Will is going to die (at least not permanently, but that's a post for another day) but I do think that this ending for Billy is meant to show where Will's story could go, if he does not look inward and accept his own inner darkness. We see a little bit of this in season 2 before it is evaded— Will could be consumed by shadow until it eventually kills him.

So I think that this is where Will's story is going in season 5. In order for him to come-of-age, he is going to have to do what Billy couldn't, and become whole. I think for Will's story that means confronting own desires, and overcoming the shame that comes with it. He needs to turn inward and face the darkness inside of himself, before coming back to the light.

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[pupkashi]

pizza time!

or the one time satoru tries to make pizza from scratch and is effectively banned from trying ever again

a/n: hi friends !! enjoy this little one shot inspired by somewhat of a true story, sort of meshed two things that happened to me together LOL hope u guys enjoy !! :3

wordcount: 1,470

masterlist

“‘toru? you home?” you ask, placing your keys on the keyholder and slipping your shoes off, sighing in relief as you walk further into your shared home. you can hear soft music coming from the kitchen as you step closer, smiling when it finally comes into view.

“well hello handsome,” you whisper, making him smile and turn around, flour on the tip of his nose. you wipe it off gently, kissing his nose right after you do.

“hey pretty,” he grins, catching your lips in his, dimples on full display from the second he saw you, “how was your day?” he asks, listening intently to your every word.

“what are you trying to make by the way?” you ask, brows furrowed as you see the packs of yeast and flour on the kitchen counter.

“pizza dough! i was thinking we can make it from scratch, have a little pizza date tonight?” the excitement in his voice is enough to make you perk up, grinning at the idea.

“that sounds amazing angel boy,” you smile, “let me change out of this and we can start, yeah?” satoru nods excitedly, continuing to set out the ingredients you two would need.

when you come back to the kitchen there’s three bowls full of cloudy water and no pizza dough in sight. instead there’s a defeated white haired man sitting on the floor, hunched over replaying a YouTube video.

“‘toru?” you ask, stifling your laughter as you walk into the kitchen. he looks up at you, blue eyes sparkling at you, a pout evident on his lips.

“it won’t bubble! i added in warm water and sugar and it’s not working,” he huffs, standing up and handing you the packet, “look they don’t even give directions!” he groans.

you inspect the packet closely, biting your lip to hold back a smile. “satoru this is active yeast, you know that right?”

“those words mean nothing to me, sweetheart.”

“you don’t have to add water to this, you just add this into whatever you’re making,” you state, watching as his frustration faded into one of astonishment and soon into a blushing mess.

“they should really put that on the packets,” he mumbles, throwing out the bowls of ruined yeast and changing the video on his phone to a different one.

“okay let me see how much flour we have to add” he mumbles, looking at the back of the bag before grabbing the scale. he’s cautious at first, adding bit by bit before losing patience. the scale goes from 30g of flour to 300g in a couple seconds.

“satoru!” you gasp, laughing as you attempt to put some of the flour back into the bag, satoru giggling as he adds the water into the flour.

“watch and learn angel boy,” you grin, grabbing the bag and pouring the flour in, stopping after a couple seconds, the scale reading an even 250g. there’s a smug grin on your face and satour wants nothing than to kiss it off your face.

he rolls his eyes, “yeah, yeah whatever,” he mumbles, adding the rest of the things he needed into the mixture before mixing with with a wooden spoon, following the exact movements on the lady in the video he was watching.

the soft music filled the comfortable silence between the two of you, only occasional comments or jokes being the conversation between the two of you as you covered the dough, setting an timer for two hours to let it rise.

the two of you plop on the couch, giggling when satoru pulls you into his lap with ease, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin.

“god i missed you,” he mumbles, voice a bit muffled by your shirt.

“i was only gone for a couple hours,” you smile, wiggling so you could face your boyfriend without hurting your neck too much. there’s a pout on his lips and you can faintly see his dimples.

“still too long,” he frowns, “wanna spend every moment of my life with you.” there’s no point in hiding the huge smile on your face as you raise your brows at him.

“do you now?” you giggle, he only smiles widely back, dimples on full display now, peppering kisses over your face as he hums in agreement.

“can’t imagine a life without you baby,” his tone is soft and comforting, you can’t help but melt at his words, kissing him softly.

you both smile into the kiss, giggles filling the room as he tells you of his day.

the two hours seem to fly by, your timer going off before the two of you knew it, heading to the the kitchen and rolling out the dough. you both mold the dough into hearts satoru arranging his pepperonis into a smiley face, grinning proudly as he showed off his creation.

you can’t suppress the yawn that escapes your lips, blinking away tears as you try and wake yourself up, willing yourself to at least finish off the toppings before you take a nap.

“go take a nap sweets, i can handle two measly pizzas” satoru smiles, “the ovens already preheated too!” you’re hesitant, satoru is quick to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, already heading towards the bedroom and paying you down.

“you do know which trays to use right?” you ask, worry etched on your face as he rolls his eyes. “yes sweetheart i know the ones.”

you’re about to open your mouth again when he’s placing a kiss to your lips, pulling the blanket over you and walking out, “have a good nap pretty!”

it takes a mere three minutes for you to knock out, deep in your sleep when you swear you smell something burning.

you try to ignore it, chalking it up to your paranoia. but the smell seems to get more intense as you stir awake.

you’re eyes are still a bit hazy when you sit up, rubbing the sleep out of them as you open the bedroom door, the smell hitting you full force.

“oh my god what happened?” you shriek, walking quickly to the windows and opening them full, trying your best to clear the living room out of the smoke.

“i may or may not have forgotten about the pizzas” satoru smiled at you nervously, the two burnt pizzas sitting sadly on the kitchen counter. no tray in sight.

“where’s the tray?” you asked, satoru’s eyes widened, face flushed as he chuckled.

“you look so beautiful today, did i tell you that?” he smiles. you only cross your arms over your chest, making him frown a bit as he points at the oven.

the tray he grabbed was not the metal one he thought it was.

the plastic was melted, the only parts not completely destroyed was the two areas where the pizzas had been. you couldn’t help but laugh a bit, your hand flying over your mouth in shock.

“i leave you alone in the kitchen for not even 30 minutes!” you laugh, shocked at the amount of tragedy that had taken place in your absence.

satoru can only smile sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, his black t shirt practically white with the amount of flour on it. you’re nodding your head, laughing as you rest your head on his chest.

“what am i gonna do with you, angel boy,” you smile, the two of you walking over the couch, sitting down in silence.

“we could always order in?” satoru suggests, grinning when you burst out laughing again.

twenty minutes later there’s a knock on your door, two boxes with perfectly cooked pizzas in them.

“next time ill definitely check them more often,” satoru mumbles, the words make you turn and face him slowly. you state state at each other, blinking slowly before you speak up.

“you’re banned from pizza making in this home,” you state, satoru’s mouth falls open, gasping at your words.

“it wasn’t even that bad!” he defends, watching you got up from your seat, grabbed one of the pizzas and knocked it against the counter.

“this pizza is harder than fucking diamond im pretty sure!” you laugh incredulously, “i genuinely think the pepperonis disintegrated in the oven.”

satoru pouts, “everyone makes mistakes, some worse than others.” he can’t help but smile, knowing there was no way he’d ever even try to make pizza again, not on his own at least.

“no yeah those are fucking terrible” he laughs, getting up and grabbing what was supposed to be his pizza. “oh my god you’re right!” his eyes wide as he realizes he can’t find any of his pepperonis.

satoru only tried to make pizza once after that, only to realize he liked Pizza Hut so much better, effectively giving up on his pizza making endeavors for good.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[felassan]

As I understand it you’re probs going with Lucanis for a romance on your first run!! What in particular drew you to him as your first romance? (This is also free permission to gush about him from what little we know!)

hello! ◕‿◕ ooh hhh this is such a fun question, thanku (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

soo for this I'm stuck between Lucanis, Taash, Davrin, Bellara and Neve HHH. (which is a fantastic problem to have tbc /pos). aa they are all so 😳😳..

for Lucanis, what I like about him is the character he displayed in TN. in his short story he was really cool and interesting. he's badass - who can't love a dude who makes evil magisters shit themselves in fear just by the mention of his name - but he also has a soft heart.

Lucanis stared ahead, focused and intense. He was the kind of man you couldn’t look away from—until he looked at you. --- Lucanis exhaled through his nose. “If someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—I’m not going to complain.” --- The word quit sparked some life in the Wigmaker’s blank expression. “So, the crow thinks he can best the dragon?” “The crow,” Lucanis mocked, “knows it.” --- “Death is my calling”

like... ok sir 😳

but he's also really funny, in that dry or wry blunt sort of way.

The mage was coming to. His unfocused eyes took stock of his situation. “I won’t talk,” he spat. “Even if you torture me.” “I’m too busy to torture you,” Lucanis said, and ran him through with his sword. --- “So, the Wigmaker.” Illario wiggled his fingers ominously. “Tell me about him.” “He’s weird,” Lucanis replied bluntly.  --- Don’t think about it. Lucanis took a deep breath and flung himself off the roof. --- Lucanis thought about securing the entrance—leaving it unlocked could raise suspicion—but chose not to in case Illario decided to work tonight.  --- “Eight marks the final kill,” Illario said, coming to stand next to him. He dusted off his palms. “Do you still recite that old nursery rhyme? The one Caterina made us memorize during training?” Lucanis moved to retrieve his throwing knives. “What can I say? It’s catchy.” --- Illario rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. The Venatori already have your name. If they learn your face—” “I’ll grow a beard.” --- Ambrose threw down the matted mess. “Lucanis Dellamorte, I presume?” “Sì,” Lucanis answered, knowing even a single syllable of a foreign language would disgust the Wigmaker. It had the desired effect—Ambrose recoiled as if he’d stepped in urine. “Is this your handiwork?” “Sì.” The mage’s jaw pulsed. “You think you can come into my Imperium and act as judge and executioner?” Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but Ambrose anticipated his answer. “Don’t say, ‘Sì!’” That earned a genuine smile from Lucanis. “Normally, there’s no judgment—only a contract. But for you, Ambrose, I made an exception.” --- While hunting his mark, Lucanis had opened the wrong door and walked into an orgy. Getting out of that had been interesting. --- That’s it. Lucanis smiled encouragingly. Good little demons. 

😭😭 lmao pls

what sent me over the edge into wanting to romance territory though is some of the things we learned about him, or the way he was described ig, during the DA:TV marketing era: "lacks social skills", loves coffee, "the sole dumpster fire of the crew" written specifically by Mary Kirby to be a "bisexual disaster of a human", that he's short and has a mullet. what can i say ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

how about you? :D is there a character in particular that you plan to romance during your first playthrough? ^^