#so nothing has to change and i can just pretend its two weeks ago

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

You Ain’t Woman Enough [To Take My Man]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Reader, Original Female Character, Can be Kathy Westmoreland if you want

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4106

Summary: You’ve come to tell me something, you say I ought to know.

Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Reader Has A Name, Marriage, Cheating, Adultery, Affairs, Serial Cheating, Kissing, Nudity, Shower Stuff, Guilt, Angst, Hell Hath No Fury etc etc, Song Fic, You Ain’t Woman Enough [To Take My Man] // Loretta Lynn

Notes: Ive decided to use actual names instead of YN in these reader Fics x

ELVIS MASTERLIST // SONG LINK // HALLOWEEN MASTERLIST

The suite was quiet as you entered, almost perfectly still just as your husband had left it. The curtains were closed though you doubted they’d even been opened today and the air conditioning was on making the room a crisp sixty-eight degrees. It made you shiver. After all, you had spent weeks back at home alone getting used to being in rooms that didn’t feel like a meat locker. Still, as the goosebumps formed on your flesh and the scent of his cologne hit your nostrils you were happy to be there. As you moved through the room you noticed your suitcase had already made it upstairs and though you knew you only had a small amount of time to get downstairs before Elvis went back on for his second show you didn’t find yourself rushing. No, even though you were happy to be reunited after weeks apart you wanted to at least look presentable so you heaved your suitcase up onto the bed so that you could rifle through it. However you had only managed to pull a couple of items out when you heard the door open and expecting it to be one of the boys you turned around ready to tell them you’d not be long. Yet when you looked around you found it wasn’t one of the boys at all, it was another woman, one you didn’t recognise.

She crept in, straightening up once she turned around and found you watching her, a blush on her sun-kissed cheeks.

‘Oh sorry,’ she mumbled, ‘I didn’t know anyone was in here.’

‘It’s fine. Can I help you?’ you replied.

‘No, it’s um nothing,’ she said dropping her gaze to the floor as she ran a hand through her blown-out brunette locks, ‘it’s fine I was just-’

‘Looking for Elvis?’ you asked which finally made her bright blue eyes snap up to meet yours, guilt swimming through them as they stared back at you.

‘No, uh,’ she said no doubt scrambling for an excuse yet you were quicker, having been down this road before you had learned to distinguish between the two types of women who circulated around your husband. Those who could be trusted and those who couldn’t. And those who couldn’t all seemed to harbour the same actions whenever you were around, watching you with wide-eyed guilt, dropping their gazes, or feigning stupidity or ignorance. Whether it was for your benefit or theirs you weren’t sure but sometimes, when Elvis wasn’t around, you grew tired of it. You grew tired of pretending not to know why a woman would be sneaking into your husband's private suite, not when you knew that there was no way your husband would’ve allowed her to come anywhere near his room tonight. No, he would’ve orchestrated it so that your paths never crossed which meant that her presence here was of her own choosing and so you decided to do away with pretences.

‘So what are you doing in his suite then? You’re aware it’s private, right?’ you challenged which appeared to make something change inside her, whatever coyness she had been going to attempt disappearing, an attitude in its place. Ah, you realised. She’s one of them. As you had become an expert in fishing out the woman who couldn’t be trusted you had also started to put them into categories. There were the innocent ones, the ones who fell for his charm and charisma like you had many moons ago and even though they knew it was wrong they succumbed all the same, guilt coursing through them at the mere thought of you. There were bold ones, ones who weren’t really expecting whatever they had to go anywhere but were making the most of it whilst they still had his attention. They too had guilt but it was different, rationalised that at the end of the day, he still chose you. And then there were ambitious ones, ones that had fallen for him too but now sought to lay claim. Ones that didn’t feel guilty because in their eyes you were the other woman, the one keeping them from what they wanted. These were the worst of the bunch, mostly because they almost always sought to make it sure that you were aware of their presence. Hence why she was standing in front of you. Indisputable proof.

‘If you must know he asked to see me,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest. You eyed her for a minute, musing over the fact you’d probably seen more fabric on one of your daughter's dolls than she was had on right now though she’d probably spent hours agonising over just what to wear. For both yours and Elvis’s attention presumably. As you finally caught her eye you found she was watching you exasperatedly, no doubt wondering why you hadn't torn into her. Wondering how you could remain calm when both of you knew what was going on. Sometimes you wondered how you could do it yourself but to see how your lack of reaction was getting under her skin you continued, the only words that you offered were, ‘Oh sure.’

‘He did,’ she said snappily making you smile.

‘Honey my husband is many things but he isn't stupid,’ you said moving back to your suitcase so that you could continue unpacking. To come here and goad you was one thing, to distract you from the task at hand was another.

‘What's that supposed to mean?’ she asked.

‘It means that he asked me to come to Vegas today. Do you really think he’d risk having another woman in his room?’ you said, turning around as you folded a dress over your arm. Her face went cold then, any trace of guilt wiped from it confirming your suspicions she had chosen to do this off her own back, ‘no. My bet is you thought now was a good time to come and tell me the truth right?’

You waited, looking at her expectantly as you continued to unpack. When she didn’t say anything, you sighed and said, ‘Well go on then. I haven’t got all day to wait around for whatever you’re gonna say.’

‘Elvis and I are dating,’ she said proudly, a smile tugging at her lips.

‘Is that right?’ you asked, finally stopping in your movements to look at her.

‘Yeah it is,’ she said, ‘have been for a while.’

‘Wow,’ you said sarcastically, ‘and uh, let me guess he loves you? Promised you the world you and you're just here to let me know before it all gets outta hand?’

‘It’s the right thing to do,’ she said.

‘And is dropping your panties for a married man also the right thing to do?’ you asked. You refused to show your irritation outwardly but it didn’t half stick in your craw whenever they laid on the martyr act. The girls-girl only looking out for your best interests, like they had been thinking of you and your family when they’d let him talk his way into their beds.

‘Look I didn’t have to come here. I didn’t have to tell you,’ she started making your irritation crash like a wave inside you, finally seeping out into your tone.

‘Oh but you wanted to right?’ you challenged, ‘that’s why you came looking for me when you knew I’d be here alone. Let me guess you’re just letting me know so I can plan ahead. Bow out gracefully, right?’

‘It’s better than being dumped,’ she scoffed.

‘True,’ you said, ‘but then again that would mean me allowing someone to take what's mine. And I can tell you now that'll happen over my dead body.’

‘He doesn’t love you anymore,’ she snapped.

‘Is that right?’ you mused, genuinely trying not to laugh. You knew it wasn’t funny, the idea of your husband lying beside this twenty-something and filling her head with the idea they had a future yet you couldn’t help but laugh. Because they fell for it every time.

You knew how of course. It was that same silver tongue that had gotten you into his bed, the ring on your finger, the marriage that you had. He had wormed his way into your life the way he did to theirs but there were differences because for all the promises he gave them, he gave you twenty more. For all the times he told them he loved them he made sure you were loved in every way possible. It wasn’t exactly painless, the idea that he could flout your marriage vows so easily would always hurt, but you had learned to deal with it because you knew that they didn’t mean anything, not really. Because time and time again you were the one he chose. Maybe you were a fool to let him. To turn a blind eye to it all. But when it was over, when he’d had his fill of whatever contact or affection he needed he always came back, more the man you married than before.

‘He told me he just wants out,’ she sneered, ‘he just doesn’t want to pay you your money.’

‘Honey,’ you said knowing full well your tone was fully laced with condescension but unable to care, ‘if you believe that you’re dumber than a box of rocks.’

She scoffed at that, her mouth falling into a tight scowl that made it look foreign against her pretty features. You sighed before you said, ‘you think I’m lying? More to the point do you really think you’re the first?’

At that her face flicked with uncertainty, your words calling into question whatever she had assumed to be fact, casting doubt she hadn't anticipated. It was cruel really and if she hadn't been so cocky, so determined to ruin your life, you might’ve even taken pity on her. After all, she was just a kid, one whose head had been filled with nonsense that she was too naïve to see couldn’t possibly be the truth.

‘Do you really think that if he wanted to go he wouldn’t just leave? That if he was so unhappy with me I’d force him to stay? He knows that if he doesn’t want to be in this marriage I sure as hell wont force him to be. And I'm sure whatever money he has to pay for our family he could earn back in a minute,’ you said. Again you watched as pain flicked across her features, guilt finally settling with her at the mention of your kids. Yet you didn’t let up. You refused to, ‘he has no intention of leaving me and whatever yarn he spins to get you into bed is between you and him. Hell darlin’, he’s probably as surprised as I am that it actually works.’

At that you offered a small laugh one that made her brows knit together as she tried to hold back whatever emotions she was feeling in front of you. It almost made you feel sorry for her. Almost. Yet you still needed to make sure she got the picture.

‘Elvis loves me and why his head may get turned every now and then he always comes crawling back, promising it won’t happen again until the next young thing in a tight skirt walks by,’ you said, ‘now a weaker woman would probably give up on him but I’m not weak and I sure as hell ain't gonna step aside and watch you ruin my marriage you hear me?’

She stayed quiet, that scowl still on her face though it looked as though it was holding back whatever she was scared to let burst out of her in front of you. Whether that anger or tears you weren’t sure. If anything you didn’t really care, you had said your piece. Though for whatever reason you felt the tiniest amount of compassion swill in you. After all, you were a seasoned veteran in the game of loving Elvis Presley, didn’t it fall to you to show her the ropes?

‘I will however offer you some advice,’ you said finally turning away from her and continuing with what you were doing before she came in, a slight act of mercy that allowed her to release the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. You heard it come out, shaky and pathetic, before her voice cut it off, her words coming out snarky as she replied, ‘Oh yeah, what's that?’

‘Don’t tell him you came here tonight,’ you said and as you pulled out a stunning blue dress, deciding that would be what you would wear at tomorrow night's show you heard her scoff.

‘Why afraid it’ll make him kick you to the kerb?’ she said, the scowl she had perfected back in full force as you turned around. You didn’t bother moving towards her, instead, you moved to the closet, sliding the door back until your husband’s vast wardrobe was on show, your dress slotting in perfectly next to his clothes, an action that made her eye twitch with irritation.

‘Oh honey,’ you said with a condescending smile, ‘it’s not me I’m scared for.’

And with that final remark she stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard behind her that the sliding door of the closet rattled in its tracks. You however couldn’t bring yourself to offer more than an eyeroll, her actions reminding you of your daughter who had a tendency to pitch a similar style of fit whenever she didn’t get her own way though of course she had the excuse of being three years old. You knew you should probably let it bother you. That the idea of another woman coming to tell you your husband didn’t want you any more should shake you to your core but it didn’t. You refused to let it because if you did it now you'd have to let it every damn time he conceded to be weak. And you refused to be weak too.

After that you busied yourself with unpacking and though you did head downstairs you made sure it was when Elvis was on stage, after all, there were things more interesting to you tonight than your husband's performance. Like finding out just who the girl was. That was how you’d come to find him on stage with her, laughing and joking as if nothing had even happened. And in an instant any thought you’d had about playing nice left your body because you had meant what you said. You weren’t going to stand aside and let her take him but now you were actively going to ensure she didn’t have the chance.

That thought came to you again later that night as you heard him call your name, the bathroom door opening as he said, ‘Lor, ya in here?’

‘In here,’ you called listening as he moved into the bathroom, clothes dropping to the floor as he went before you finally heard the glass door click open and then shut as his naked body slid in behind you, his arms ensnaring your waist.

‘Hi there,’ he mumbled as his lip met your neck.

‘Hi,’ you breathed sinking into him as he peppered kisses along your shoulder before you felt his hand snake down your slippery skin cupping your sex which caused you to shriek, ‘Elvis!’

‘I missed ya,’ he said as if it was your own fault not to have expected it.

‘I can see,’ you giggled wiggling your ass against his cock that was already growing rigid against you.

‘Joe told me you got here in between shows,’ he said his arousal not yet pressing enough that he felt the need to forgo chit-chat, ‘how come ya didn’t come down?

‘Oh I did but you know how it is when you haven’t seen folks in a while. I ended up bumping into people and we just got chatting,’ you said. That wasn’t untrue. You had spoken to some people, using carefully selected questions to get the information you craved without alerting them to what you were up to. You see you hadn’t been lying when you had told her to be careful. After all, you had done this dance a hundred times before and you knew all the steps. You knew if you challenged Elvis about his behaviour it would only get ugly. No, you needed to be smart. To orchestrate the situation so you got what you wanted but he was the one who felt like he had made the decision. And that was a skill you’d become an expert at.

‘Are they more important than me?’ he said and for a moment you were glad you were facing away from him, your expression liable to give you away as you thought about how he prioritised people in his life.

‘Of course not,’ you said, ‘but I knew I’d have you all to myself soon so I figured I’d play nice. Let them have you while they can.’

‘Ever the diplomat,’ he mused, his lips moving back to your neck for a moment. You knew now was the time to broach it, with him happy and pliant coming off the buzz of the show and the excitement of having you back. Yet you needed to do it carefully and so as he kissed you, you picked at your nails, removing the non-existent dirt from under them as you said, ‘but it wasn’t all bad. Actually, I got talking to one of your band members.’

‘Yeah?’ he asked, stopping his actions and resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched you carefully.

‘Yeah I don’t think we’ve met before though,’ you said, ‘they must be new.’

‘Yeah, there’s a couple of new faces around. We lucked onto some good talent for this season,’ he agreed.

‘Mmm, pretty too,’ you said, and though your words were casual you felt him stiffen, ‘I think her name is Kathy?’

‘Oh?’ he asked airily and though you could feel the heat of his blue eyes watching you you kept your face casual.

‘We had a nice chat,’ you said, ‘she told me you’ve really made this gig special.’

‘That right?’ he asked flatly.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said.

‘Lori,’ he said ruefully.

‘I just think it’s a shame,’ you said continuing as though he hadn't spoken.

‘A shame?’ he asked confused.

‘Yeah well I know I said I didn’t manage to see the show before I came back up here but I caught some of it and well to think of her stuck being backing vocals when she could be great on her own is just a shame. Don’t you think?’ you asked.

‘Yeah,’ he said quietly, ‘yeah you’re right.’

‘I sure think so,’ you agreed. You could feel him hesitate behind you, no doubt trying to figure out exactly what you knew or whether to let it go but after a minute he pulled back and you turned to look at him for the first time since he had gotten in.

‘Everything alright?’ you asked with a frown that forced him to fake a smile and nod.

‘Yeah, I’m gonna get out okay?’ he said.

‘Okay,’ you said, placing a wet hand on his chest that he grabbed, taking it to his lips so he could kiss your fingertips. A feat that brought a genuine smile to your face.

‘Do you want food?’ he asked.

‘Yes please,’ you said.

‘Okay,’ he said leaning in to kiss you properly before he said, ‘take your time. I’ll order for us both.’

‘Okay,’ you smiled.

And then he was gone, moving from the room at lightning speed only just managing to throw a towel around his waist as he headed to the phone, yanking the receiver from its cradle before he punched in the number he wanted rather harshly. It didn’t take long for the line to connect, a sweet young voice saying, ‘hello?’

‘You told my wife?’ he asked in an angry whisper, listening to Kathy as she scrambled to sit up.

‘It wasn’t like that-’ she protested.

‘What the hell did you say to her?’ he snapped.

‘Not much I promise,’ she exclaimed.

‘How could you go behind my back like that?’ he said angrily.

‘But I thought-’

‘What that if you meddled in my business I’d just fall into line? That I’d just up and leave my wife because you’d decided you’d had enough-’

‘No of course not!’ she cried.

‘Because that’s not how this shit works you hear me? And if you don’t get that then maybe I was wrong about you,’ he spat.

‘Elvis,’ she whispered but he was on a roll. Too angry to bother listening.

‘You know what? We’re done,’ he snapped.

‘Elvis-’ he heard her whimper but he had already slammed the phone back onto the hook anger bubbling through him until he heard you say, ‘was that room service?’

‘What?’ he asked turning to find you standing in the bathroom doorway, unaware as to how much you had heard though on the off chance it might have been nothing he said, ‘uh no… the uh line was busy.’

‘Shoot,’ you frowned.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll call down in a minute.’

You smiled and nodded, padding into the room and climbing into bed dressed in the nightie you had donned in the time since he had left the bathroom. Elvis watched you, wondering how you could be so calm when he was sure that you knew if not all at least some of it. As you offered him a sweet smile he felt his heart tug, the guilt creeping in as it did every time. He moved to throw his towel on a chair in the corner, changing into the pyjamas you’d lovingly laid out for him like the good wife you were. As he slipped in beside you, allowing you to cuddle into him for the first time in weeks, that thought consumed him.

He didn’t know why he did it. How his head could get turned time and time again when you were all he could’ve ever asked for. You were the perfect wife, the perfect mother, a friend, a lover and yet he never felt satisfied. Time and time again he’d think that the grass was greener only to find that they weren’t you. And so he’d come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. At least he used to, now it was this complicated dance the two of you did. The one where you pretended not to know what he had been doing so long as he nipped it in the bud when you asked. It was a flawed system but it was one that seemed to hurt you less. And if he couldn’t stop himself from hurting you, he’d at least try and make it somewhat better. He knew he was weak but he could give you that much. Which is why when you looked at him with knowing eyes and words that hovered around accusation but never landed he knew it was time to move on.

‘You know I’ve been thinkin’,’ he said clearing his throat which made you look up towards him, ‘about what you said.'

‘About what baby?’ you said laughing to yourself how you made fun of his floozies for feigning innocence when you were better at it than any of them.

‘Ka-’ he said stumbling over her name and instead opting for, ‘my backing singer.’

‘Oh?’ you asked, your fingers playing with his chest hair as you waited for him to tell you what you knew was coming.

‘Yeah, you’re right. She’s talented…maybe she’d be better tryin’ to get her own solo thing goin’,’ he said.

‘Oh no doubt,’ you agreed.

‘Maybe I’ll give one of the talent scouts in LA a call tomorrow,’ he said hesitantly, ‘help her out ya know.’

‘Why aren’t you sweet,’ you mused, your nervous heart finally settling as everything clicked into place. You knew it was harsh. You knew that you should’ve just been satisfied with him breaking up with her but as you pictured her smug face, the one that had expected you to roll over you couldn’t help but smile.

‘I just wanna help,’ Elvis said.

‘Well I’m sure it will. Sometimes people just need a helping hand you know,’ you said.

‘Yeah, I know.’

Women like you they're a dime a dozen you can buy 'em anywhere,

For you to get to him I'd have to move over and I'm gonna stand right here,

It'll be over my dead body so get out while you can,

Cause you ain't woman enough to take my man.

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

[chronosh0t]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon-divergence ; Lee's pov ; sfw ; slightly angst. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 〔 NO BETA 〕

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: what if Lee got stuck in a loop? it's based on this tweet I posted weeks ago.

〔 if you like what I write or my edits, consider tip me on ko-fi. you'd help me a lot by donating me. thank you lots 〕

────────────── ❁ ──────────────

It has been so long, too long to count. Nonstop fighting for an end that is far from near, for a thin lay of hope that may or may not come out of the cruelty of reality. The light it's too dim, the air is too heavy, toxic and corrupted, no matter how deep every breath is, it never makes him feel better, less relaxed. Less lonely.

His hands are tired, his legs are having a hard time trying to keep up and his M.I.N.D is completely numb over time. Losing sense, and every single moment that peace seems to greet him, it flies past him as fast as one of his bullets. Breaking him in the silence of rejection, in the middle of the tower where escaping is not an option. For how long will this keep going? He does not know. And, to be fair, he doesn't want to know either. The crushing weight of having a clock ticking, counting what's left and what's yet to come, is not pleasant.

So he opted to ignore it. He made the decision, that day, to do the job only he was able to do. Because that was his sole purpose, at least for now, as much as he wished to change this twisted fate, it wouldn't be fair for those outside. If he was the only one capable, then so be it. Sacrifices must always be done. Be it time, or his own life. Just for the illusion that outside everyone is safe. He will stand over and over, shoot his gun, kill whoever or whatever gets in his way, for a slim chance.

There are short moments when everything is quiet, when not a single cry from despair could be heard, except for his erratic breathing, his feet dragging him to the stairs to finally take a seat after hours of battles and the loud noise of his weapon against the floor. He closes his eyes for a few seconds before taking a small device to call them. He just wants to have a few minutes to talk. Hoping. Wishing.

The call makes it through, and two faces greet him, smiling happily. The girl in red breaks the silence first.

ㅤㅤㅤ“It's been a while, Lee.” she stops, as if pondering if it's plausible to ask about his condition when it's obvious. “How are things on your side?”

ㅤㅤㅤ“Nothing new. The fights are endlessly annoying but, it's fine. I'm fine.” His voice cracks at the end, how terrible he has been at lying lately, or maybe he is too tired to pretend. Lee knows his teammates are aware of his state.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Lee…” the soft voice from Liv seemed to echo inside the tower, he nods and smile, “I know it's useless to say but, do please take care of yourself. I also know you're capable but.. We are worried about you. Especially Commandant.”She finished, her pink eyes showing great concern.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Commandant is a bit busy now. We would've called him but I know you have your ways.” Lucia explained, a chuckle escaped from her mouth.

Lee laughs at that. Indeed, he has his ways to contact his Commandant. “Thank you, I really mean it.” He finally spoke, the bitterness can be tasted, smelled and felt. Too heavy. “My time is running out. When I get another break, I will try to contact you guys again. Please take care.” He smiles again, and ends the call.

There's never a “goodbye”. Because he doesn't want to think about an end. As much as he is tired and his frame is at its limit on par with his M.I.N.D slowly losing complete focus from time to time, more often than not, Lee would reject the idea of a last call with his friends. That won't happen. He refuses to let that be part of his reality.

More often than not, he finds himself considering giving up and leaving, letting the wheel of destiny decide his punishment but there's something, someone, that keeps him from doing so. Or more like a “possible future”. Where there's no one, when the person he has come to cherish a little bit too much is no longer by his side, where his teammates are no longer walking with him but just a name in a marble stone. That was scary enough for him. The weight it's too much again.

His break is about to end. Taking a deep breath, he takes his device and taps a message and presses the send button, with the same address. For the same person. With the same words. He can feel an insufferable pain packing up inside his chest, filling the space between his ribs, crushing his artificial heart. He is shaking. His eyes are burning and tears are building up, but it's not the time.

It has never been. It probably never will.

He stands up, weapon in his hands. Time is running and it will never stop, no matter how many times he goes back, no matter how much he wishes and hopes, because time has never cared for that. So, for now, he just needs to keep going, and maybe one day, time will stop for him and he will be able to go back home. Go back to his friends. To his Commandant and be part of Gray Raven again.

…………

The digital screen beeps at the new message. He knows who sent it, and it's the reason he is also a bit reluctant to open it. He is always afraid it will be the last. His fingers trace the screen before lightly pressing over the email icon. A small text shows up, saying:

ㅤㅤㅤ“It's been a while. I know Liv and Lucia are there to take care of you, but I've got to know you enough to understand you're a magnet for troubles. So, don't do anything stupid.

ㅤㅤㅤ I don't have much time, there's nothing new. I am doing as fine as I can, you don't need to worry (I know you will, but don't let my situation distract you from your job, Commandant).

ㅤㅤㅤ ………… I miss you. I miss you a lot. It even hurts a bit sometimes. But I'm always hoping. Hoping that one day I will be by your side again, seeing you smile, holding your hand. I miss your warmth. The idea of going back to you, to Gray Raven keeps me going.

ㅤㅤㅤ I have to go. See you next time.”

And without knowing, despite the distance between them, tears were shed at the same time. Because time was the only thing connecting them.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter Eight

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

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Previous: Chapter Seven ~ A Little Boston Magic ~ Andy/Leia

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter Eight ~ Nothing But Lies ~ Andy/Leia

Andy 

I feel like I have been here before.  

I’m pretty sure I’ve been here before.  

The pain in my back is getting worse the longer I stay in this position. I finally pry my eyes open and am blinded with pain. Why is my room so bright? And why am I so uncomfortable? I blinked a couple of times and realized, I’m on my couch.  I slowly sat up. What the fuck happened?  My mind runs throught the previous night. I remembered watching Leia and Jeremy and then heading to the Red Line. I frowned as I remember Stella being there but then, nothing really.  

“Oh, you’re wake.”  

I snapped my head up (which was a terrible mistake) and saw Leia coming down the stairs, fully dressed. Oh shit, there was a game today.  I scrambled for my phone before Leia stopped me.  

“Its ok Andy, its only eight. Practice is at ten. I’m going to make some coffee.”  

I sat back with my head on the cushions. Fuck, being hung over for the second time in three months is not a good look for a captain of an NHL team. I took a moment to breathe before Leia came back in with two mugs. “Thanks,” I muttered.  

“Wanna talk about it?” She took a sip, looking at me.  

“I’m fine.” I took a sip and avoided her gaze.  

“Ok, why are you getting drunk the night before a game? That isn’t like you, Andy.” The look on her face was breaking me. But how can I tell her?  How can I tell her that her new boyfriend is a tool bag and I’m so in love with her, it kills me to see her with her.  What do I say? How do I tell her about what I overheard in the locker room a couple of weeks ago.  

Two weeks ago... 

“That is such a sweet shot you took on Ullmark,” Luke said, laughing as he and Andy walked down to the locker room.  

“It’s all in the wrist,” I replied with the pretend flick of the wrist.  “Are we heading to the bar after?” 

“Yeah, Cubby said she’s be our designated tonight after the game.” Luke high-fived me when they heard laughing coming from the locker room. They were about to burst in when they heard Swayman’s voice.  

“Dude, she had a thing for me.  When I was talking with her on the plane, she was playing hard to get. But I know, she’s into me. I’m gonna ask her out.”  

“You really want to ask out the assistant captain’s sister?” Andy could hear it was Ullmark. “Is that wise?” 

“Why not? You heard Andrews.  He gave his blessing.”  

“That’s because he doesn’t know your reputation.”  

“He knows.  I’ve been with him at the bars and stuff. He was just as bad before he met Miranda.” He heard him chuckle. “I just want a taste. She is sexy as hell and I can feel like she is a devil in the sheets.”  

“You better make sure that Barber and Andrews don’t hear you talk like that about her.”  

“What is Barber going to do? He’ll ruin his friendship with her which is ok by me. I just want a piece of her. Fuck her and leave her. Make it look a mutual thing so there’s no bad blood. Trust me, I’ve done this before and I’ll do it again.” 

It took everything in Andy to restrain Luke.  

It took everything inside of Andy not to tell Leia. 

Present 

I lied.  

“Fiona called and she was trying to convince me we should make another go at it. I told her to fuck off but it messed with my head. Got to drinking to numb the feeling.”  

I lied big time.  

“Oh Andy,” Leia came to sit next to me and held my hand.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.” She leaned over my shoulder. “She is the worst.”  

I never wanted the feeling of her body pressed against mine to ever stop. “Yeah, I know. I’m not even sure why I answered the call.” I am a complete asshole for lying to her but the truth would hurt her more and I can’t do it. 

“Well, I’ll be home tonight after the game. You don’t fly out until tomorrow so we can relax tonight, ok?” She gave me her smile, the one I go weak over.  

“It sounds like a plan, Princess.”  

I have to remind myself that he is my teammate and I can’t fuck with that. It would screw everyone else and I can’t do that.  

But boy, do I want to.  

Practice went as practice goes but my head was not in it. Warm ups for the game are the same and I know everyone can see it.  Its obvious, especially when Swayman looks at me with concern. “You ok, Cap?” 

“I’m fine,” I mumble, lacing up my skates. “Leia told me what happened.  Thanks for helping her.”  

“It’s no problem.” He frowns. “But everything’s ok?” 

“Fiona called.” Yep, maintaining that lie. “It just got to me. I just want to skate.” I pushed past him and start taking laps on the ice. I know Luke knows the lie because Leia told him. But I can’t face him. I can’t face anyone. My heart is broken right now and I just can’t do it.  

The game is a tire fire right from the start.  

I can’t focus. I just see Leia and Jeremy and the happiness on her face and it makes me sloppy. So sloppy that coach has to bench me in the third period, probably for safety reasons. I sat there, watching the game, knowing that if we lost this, it would be my fault. Luckily, Luke was able to take control of the team and pull out the win.  

I was sitting in my stall, trying hard not to show emotion. I just wanted to go home and cuddle with Leia. I just wanted to be with my girl.  

Fuck.  

She's not mine.  

I’m still totally fucked.  

Leia 

15 Weeks 

The last few weeks with Jeremy had been amazing. He is such a gentleman. We had the road trip right after for ten days and Jeremy made it a point to sit across the aisle from me so we could talk. He would carry my bag when we got off and made sure that Stella and I are safely in our rooms. In the mornings, he would bring me a tea, make sure my gloves were on and then hang out if he was done for the day.  

We would go out every couple of days, some days I just can’t from how tired I was. I still hadn’t told him about the baby.  I spoke with management and they agreed to modify my duties but it was up to me on who I told.  I love the Bruins.  

The only thorn in my side is Andy.  He’s been distance since my first date with Jeremy. Not just distant but angry even a little hostile.  I’ve noticed that sometimes he is sharp at practice with his teammates, especially Jeremy. Its so unlike him.  I decided to text Luke to see if he knew anything.  

Leia: Do you know what’s wrong with Andy  Luke: No  Leia: You are so helpful  Luke: Seriously, I’ve asked and he says nothing  Luke: You know Fiona called  Leia: its still from that?  Luke: I guess so  Leia: I guess I’ll talk to him to see what’s up 

I frown at my phone. Its near 8 pm and Andy still isn’t home. Its weird for him not to come home after all of his meetings and stuff but lately he’s been coming home later and later. Sometimes, especially on days when I got out with Jeremy, I won’t see him until the next day.  I decided to cancel plans with Jeremy and head home.  I sit in the living room, reading when I hear his car pull up. He walks in. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hey Andy. How was your day?” My voice is super sugary sweet and Andy narrowed his eyes at me.  

“What’s going on? Why are you talking to me in your ‘I’m pregnant and don’t feel good so can you help me’ voice?” Andy crossed his arms over his chest. Normally I would find this very attractive, because he’s still in a dress shirt and slacks, and fuck, focus Leia! 

“Just realizing that I haven’t seen you around much.” I smiled softer at him. “I missed hanging out with you.” Andy snorted and went to grab a beer. He had been drinking a little more than usual. “What? Don’t you miss hanging out with me?” 

“Of course, I miss hanging out with you.  I didn’t realize that you and Swayman were not serious and that you would be home more often.” He took a long pull.  

“Jeremy and I are fine. What is the matter with you?” My tone was sharp.  

“Me? I’m not the problem. I’m giving you space to grow in your relationship.” He raised his hands and move towards the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”  

“You can’t do this Andy.  We live together, we’re roommates...” 

“Yes, Leighton, we’re roommates. Doesn’t mean I have to share everything with you or acknowledge your relationship.” I could feel the tears forming in my eyes.  “Oh, here we go, the crying.”  

“You’re being such an asshole right now Andrew.  You are not like my best friend right now.” I wiped at my eyes furiously.  

His face turned angry. “A best friend? You want me to be a best friend to you. Fine! Jeremy is not this great guy you think he is. He’s a douchebag and a womanizer. He’s going to hurt you and you’re just planning your entire future with him and your kid.”  

“You’re just jealous because I’m finding happiness with him. I’m moving on unlike you!” 

“That’s rich, moving on. You’re not going to move on with Swayman.”  

“That’s not your decision!” 

“I’m not deciding anything. Its facts; you’re not going to find what you are looking for with him.”  

“Stay out of my life Andrew. I’m happy and that’s all that should matter.”  

“He’s going to hurt you and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces again. Just like your high school boyfriend and just like Bret.  You can’t even see what’s right in front of you. You keep choosing fuckboys when you could have something better.  I don’t know why I would think you would look at the bigger picture with Swayman. He’s a fuckboy hockey player just trying to sleep with you so he can say I fucked my teammates sister. You are just a warm body to him and you’re too stupid to see it.” His words vibrate against the walls and his face falls with realization. “Leia...” 

My heart cracks at his words, his mean and awful words.  “Fuck you! I fucking hate you!” 

I ran past him up the stairs and slammed the door, locking it behind me. I slide down to the floor and sobbed. I’ve never had a real fight with Andy but he’s so wrong. Jeremy and I are just starting. Things are different this time and I know it.   

I woke up the next morning, my eyes sore and raw from crying. Its still early but I can’t face Andy again. I got up to shower, using the hot water to loosen my muscles. As I’m drying my hair, I stand in front of the mirror and gasp.  

Between my hips is now a distinct bump. I grab my phone and check my pregnancy tracker. 15 weeks, one day. My bump popped and now there is no way to hide this. I can get away with it while I’m out because of jackets and scarfs but at work I tend to wear leggings and sweaters. I run my hand over my belly as I stare in the mirror.  Hi baby, I croon softly.  I move to open the door to tell Andy but I stop.  

He lost the right. 

I sneak out the house and head to the coffee shop for my morning tea and muffin. I work on my notes for work when my phone chimes.  

Jeremy: Morning beautiful  Leia: morning handsome  Jeremy: so since we bailed on dinner last night, can we try again tonight  Leia: I would love to 

I smile as I think about the date with Jeremy. And then my smile falls. I don’t know how I can hide my condition.  I have to tell him about the pregnancy. But maybe I should wait.  

Perfect. 

Andy isn’t home when I get there so I take advantage of it and start getting ready. I put on a fit and flare type dress with stockings and booties. My nice coat and scarf will hide my secret until I’m ready to talk to Jeremy.  He’s prompt like always and we head out.  

I’m nervous because this is like date four and every romance book has told me that by now, the man is hoping to get lucky.  And I would, I totally would follow this except I feel so uncomfortable in my body.  Having Andy and Stella tell me all the time that I look gorgeous is just getting to my head. What if he is grossed out about my body? What if he finds me repulsive? My mind is spiraling.  

“Everything ok Leia?” Jeremy smiled at me as he placed his big hand on my thigh. His finger are long and I can feel the warmth, strength and roughness in them.  A hard working man.  

“Yeah, just upset about Andy is all. He’s still being closed off and that’s unusual for him.” There was no way I would tell him what Andy said.  That would be just asking for an argument.  “He’s never been so distant before,” I say before smiling.  “But, I’m going to let it go because I’m excited for our date.”  

“Good.  I was thinking of just going to Lou’s for pizza and North Park has those Christmas lights up. Could be really pretty. “His fingers are dancing over my skin and it feels so good and distracting.  

“Sounds like the perfect night.” God, I am falling hard for this man.  

After pizza, he drove us to the park for the festival of lights. As we are climbing out, Jeremy hands me a soft ball.  I look at him curiously. “Because I know you forgot them.” I open the bundle and its a pair of mittens. I blush because I did forget and I look down.  Jeremy touches my chin to lift my head. I look into his eyes and all I see is kindness.  “Its ok, beautiful. Its our thing.”  

Our thing.  

Swoon.  

As we walk around, all the twinkling lights are setting a mood of romance. An aphrodisiac of scents fills the air from the food stalls. Jeremy gets some hot ciders to keep our hands warm as walk trough. “Ok, Halloween or Christmas?” he asks. 

“Christmas. I don’t like to be scared.” I shudder at the thought. “Plus why does it involve so many spiders and clowns. Spiders are poisonous and they are creepy.  Clowns... well, clowns eat people and just no.” I take a breath and look at Jeremy’s face. His face is surprised and unmoving.  “What?” 

“That is the most passionate speech I have ever heard about Halloween.” He burst out laughing. I huff with mock indignation and cross my arms, hip jutted while he is bent, hands on knees trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says wiping his eyes. “Sweetheart, are you afraid of spiders and clowns?” 

“It’s not funny.” I pouted at him and begin to walk away.  

“Sweetheart!” Jeremy chases after me and pulls me to him. “I’m sorry,” he says with puppy eyes.  

I can’t be mad at this man. “It’s ok,” I say softly.  

“Let me make it up to you.” He smiles. “Let’s go back to my place, I’ll start a fire, some hot cocoa, we can cuddle on the couch.” He kisses me softly. “What do you say beautiful?” 

Shit. He’ll try to touch me and he’ll know. He’ll know and I’m not ready.  I’m not ready for this bubble to burst. “I would love to but I have a six am call with a club in England. I need to be up early and presentable, at least, from the waist up.” I smile.  “But that sounds amazing. Maybe another night?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. I like that you are working to conquer the world.” He kisses my cheek and whispers, “maybe one night I can dominate you and take you to places you never knew existed.”  

I blush as he gives me a sexy smirk. Refusing this man is hard.  

And I don’t know how much longer i will be able to delay it.  

Its been a week since Jeremy has asked me to go home with him and I know now my time is up.  My baby belly is growing and I don’t want to lie to him.  I ask him to lunch and he said he would meet me at a cafe near the house. I bundle up as the falls weather has now turned to the colder side.  It also helps with the bump hiding mission.  I’m putting on my coat when Andy walks by.  “Going out?” 

“Yep.”  

“Princess...” he face falls at the lack of energy in my voice but I don’t want to hear it.  

“Nope.” I walked out the door and drove to the cafe.  Jeremy is sitting there in a hoodie and jeans, his black peacoat over the chair.  He looks like a goddamm snack.  “Hey!” 

“Hey sweetheart!” He gets up to kiss me on the cheek. “Its cold today.”  

“Yeah, winter is coming,” I say with a giggle.  

“Nice,” he smiles.  We order and chat but the more I chat the more i start to get nervous. I mean, how do you tell the man you are seeing that you are pregnant with another man’s baby? Now he can tell something is wrong because he asked me something and I completely spaced. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Leia, you are a thousand miles away. What’s going on?” 

I take a breath and hope for the best. “I need to tell you something.”  

“Okay,” he says slowly.  “You can tell me anything.”  

“So, I’ve been dealing with some life altering news for a few weeks now and I didn’t know if I should tell you earlier because I hadn’t finished making some decisions.”  

He frowns. “Is everything ok? Are you sick?”  

“No, not sick. Just... pregnant.”  

Swear I feel like a pin could drop and I could hear it. Jeremy’s face froze and I know, this is the end. Finally, he says, “you’re pregnant?” 

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I didn’t know if I was keeping it or what I was going to do but I decided that I wanted the baby.  I’m sixteen weeks pregnant. I told management last week but I needed to wrap my head around it and I needed to tell you because I know you want more with me and I just couldn’t while lying.”  He still sitting there, not moving a muscle. “Say something, please.” 

“Wow.” I blink, not sure what he is going to say.  “I mean, wow, that’s big news.” He takes a long sip of his drink as I try to blink back tears.  

“I understand if you don’t want to keep seeing me...” 

“No, that’s not it, sweetheart.” He takes my hand.  “I just need a moment to process this.” He smiles. “You’re gonna be a mom.”  

“Yeah. Its big but I’m determined to give my baby the best life.”  

He smiles. “Anything I can do to help, ok? Just let me know.”  He cups my cheek. “I believe in you, sweetheart.”  

Its exactly what I needed.  

NEXT

Taglist:

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[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Meanwhile there is a darkness growing in Ketterdam, and it seems a killer may be stalking the streets of West Stave. An unknown evil is closing its jaws over the city, and it’s starting to feel like nowhere is safe.

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus @i-need-help-this-is-my-obsession

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: death, murder references

AO3 link

Chapter 49 - Kaz

“I need you to gather as much intel on them beforehand as possible,” Kaz lifted his gaze to glance over at Inej, “We have a week. Riesen is sending Geels, I know, but I need you to find out who his seconds will be - by tomorrow, if possible. We’re at a considerable advantage without Stoevelaar in the fray; they might not know who our seconds are until the meeting, but keep your eyes open. I assume there’s been no further word about his interest in you?”

“Nothing since Liesbeth died,” Inej’s tone was light but there was a hidden weight to her voice that Kaz had learned how to read; in the slight movement of her shoulders, in the almost imperceptible glance away from him as she spoke, in the ever so slightly of kilter inflection over the word died. 

Kaz didn’t have time for her moral quandaries tonight. She had killed Liesbeth, she had killed others, and there was nothing she needed to hide here so why did she insist on this discomfort? He did his best to ignore it - he had other things to focus on now. There was the game, of course, to prepare for - Nina was due to arrive at the Crow Club in just over an hour, Kaz would make a move there soon - but there was also the added complication of planning this parley with the Black Tips. Haskell had told Kaz to arrange some weeks ago now, if things didn’t change, but Riesen had beaten them to it about two hours ago. 

“Relax, boy,” Haskell had said, leaning back in his chair and swishing the glass of brandy sitting in his palm, “This is what we wanted,”

It was decidedly not what Kaz had wanted. 

“We’ll get things all squared away quick and easy,” the old man drawled on, “and re-establish our claim on the harbour. Easy,”

Easy. Kaz wanted to snort his derision, but he restrained himself to a curt nod and bit his tongue. He’d marched from the office and across the ground floor of the Slat with something jagged twisting inside his chest. Easy. Nothing but a trap was ever easy. 

He sent for Inej before he’d even reached the stairs - her shift had ended after she reported back to him a little over an hour ago, but he expected she’d still be in the house somewhere. And it would seem he was correct; Inej had knocked on his door barely two minutes after he’d walked in himself. She looked tired. 

“They’ll expect me to make you my second,” Kaz continued now, eyes tracing over the shape of Inej’s bent legs on his windowsill. “So-”

“So I won’t be,” she finished, “Obviously,”

Kaz nodded, though he wasn’t sure that she was actually looking at him, and forced his eyeline back towards his desk and the ledger lying open in front of him as though he needed to create some pretence of working. They both knew he wasn’t working on a ledger whilst he planned this parley; he needed his focus. So stop studying her. If Inej said her leg was painless enough to climb then he could trust her word and stop scanning her for a slip in the façade. 

Even if they hadn’t been expecting her, would Kaz want to bring Inej in as his second for this? Did he want to put her back in the Black Tips line of fire? 

This was her job. It didn't matter. It shouldn’t matter. And it didn’t. It didn’t. 

“I’ll take Jesper,” he said, turning a page for absolutely no reason, “And Big Bolliger,”

He saw the sharp movement of Inej’s head as she snapped up to attention at that last word, pictured the little furrow between her brows and the downturned edges of her mouth before he looked up to see them. She was, indeed, frowning when their eyes met; her hand drifted to count her knives and he was sure that she was thinking of their names in turn. 

“Why name it?” he’d asked her, when she told him the first blade he’d given her was Petyr. 

“For Sankt Petyr,” she said, almost confused, blinking at him. 

“I didn’t ask why that name; I asked why you’d bother naming it in the first place,”

For a moment he’d thought that she was going to reply, as he watched her it seemed like a retort was forming and he’d been intrigued to hear it, but then the colour rose in her cheeks and she turned away from him. Kaz stood watching her back for a moment before he spoke again, and once he did they seemed to carry on as though the moment had never happened in the first place. He hadn’t brought it up again, though of course it didn’t stop him from broaching the subject of philosophy every time he heard her name another blade. 

“Why Bolliger?” she asked, now, her little frown refusing to relent, “He’s not bad muscle but-”

“Jesper and Bolliger,” Kaz repeated, not bothering to temper any impatience in his tone, “Let them know, and let me know who Geels is bringing. I want you there as well, out of sight,”

She nodded - perhaps a little stiffly, but if that were true then Kaz was ignoring it - and stood up from the window ledge. As far as he could tell there was no wince, no buckle in her knee when she moved her weight onto it, no sign at all that she was in pain. Good. It wouldn’t do for the job if she was still injured.

“Is that everything?” 

“Anything else you can get me,”

Inej gave him another short, sharp nod, and then in the space of a blink she had vanished through the open window and disappeared somewhere between the raindrops. It seemed as though she knew how to enter some kind of hidden world, one that really did just exist in that liminal space in between two droplets of rain falling too rapidly to track. Chasing each other to the ground, splashing against the cobbles and seeming to cease their existence - only to fall from the sky again, in their inescapable little circle. 

After another half hour of working Kaz began to make his way to the Crow Club, pausing on the way to check in with Anika. It would seem that Layla had not been doing anything untoward. 

“When you told me to watch her I didn’t think that meant holding her hair back whilst she hurled,” Anika complained, leaning back against the doorframe. 

“Where’s Pietro?”

“Fuck if I know, I’ve been with her ain’t I?” she jutted her chin towards the closed door, “If I catch something I’m blaming you,”

Kaz didn’t bother with the retorts that offered themselves up to him, and instead just asked her to confirm that someone was following Pietro - they were - before he turned away. 

“Oh - did Nina respond?”

He paused and nodded over his shoulder. 

“She coming?”

“Of course. Why?”

Anika shrugged.

“Heard she was gonna be busy tonight. She said some toff wants her to go to the Geldstraat,”

Nina had neglected to mention that to Kaz. Van Eck again? Didn't she think that was relevant? He scowled as he began to walk away, nodding at the door as he said: 

“Enjoy your handful,”

Anika sighed melodramatically.

“I’m not being paid enough for this,” she muttered, distractedly twisting a lock of yellow hair from the non-shaven half of her head tightly around one finger, then undoing and redoing the same little action, as she spoke. 

“None of us are,”

Kaz walked on, down to the ground floor of the Slat, and was taken by slight surprise to see Wylan Hendriks cautiously weaving his way through the crowd. Since he had stopped using a cane upon arrival to the Barrel Kaz had rarely seen the boy without a sighted guide, and now he paused to watch him traverse the room with intrigue. Wylan moved slowly and in places with hesitation, but not without confidence for the majority of his steps, and after a beat Kaz realised that he had memorised how many steps it would take him to get from one obstacle to the next in the setup of the room. The rest, that being non-stationary obstacles, he seemed to track by sound - someone shouted something near his right and he side-stepped neatly to the left, though they wouldn’t have been directly in his path if he’d continued, and Kaz frowned. He was good. He was very good. But Kaz still wasn’t sure he felt convinced - he just couldn’t place his finger on why. 

There was also now, of course, the matter of Wylan’s scars. Kaz could hardly claim that they didn’t look believable. 

Raske, who’d been lounging on a chair with some little project or other - Kaz hoped, for all their sakes, nothing explosive - twisting quickly beneath his fingers, metal slotting in and out of place, looked up and noticed Wylan crossing the room with a small frown. It was unusual to see Wylan around the Slat, that much was true, and Raske stood up to speak to him as Kaz stood watching from the other side of the room.

What time was it? Getting late. Nina would soon arrive at the Crow Club and Kaz wanted to be there to oversee the setup of the game, and as much as he was sure the Heartrender could cover Layla’s task once the cards were laid she didn’t know her organisation system. Layla usually directed the other servers and kept as much control over the game as she could without dealing the cards herself; it was to be an honest game tonight anyway, but Kaz still needed things to go swiftly and smoothly. 

He could have crossed the room and found out what Wylan was doing there, but ultimately decided that there was no real need. Wylan’s role in tonight's job was already done, and Kaz had other things to concern himself with. For one moment longer he looked on, then turned away and left the building in silence.

[greenglasstiles]

3/18/2025

i first made this accout about a year ago, when i lost two of my closest friends. that makes it sound like they died, they didnt, we just fell out pretty hard. nothing like that happened to me recently, but i feel lonely the same way i did then. i guess thats why i want to start posting here again. last time i tried a little too hard to be poetic and whatnot; this time im going to be more casual. ill treat it like my journal. i still want to use my physical journal, but this feels easier to me. i also like the idea of someone maybe reading my posts. i doubt anyone will; i dont plan to use tags, but i can always pretend. i guess thats weird, but i plan to be pretty transparent despite how disconnected this account is from all my other social media accounts. like i said, im lonely and extremely bored. im not in school right now and i have like one friend, so all i do is go to work and make awkward converation there. i like my job; its not bad, but i havent been there long and i still feel out of place. i dont miss my old job. i quit because i felt like i really needed change, and i also dropped out of school. i plan on going back, hopefully this upcoming fall semester. i just didnt want to be a teacher anymore and i really only had that job for the experience. i dont know what ill go back to school for. to be honest i dont even want to go back. i know i have to though. i havent told my dad im chaging my major. im gonna see him on sunday, i can try to tell him then. speaking of my dad, ive also felt very lonely within my family too. i dont really talk to them anymore. i seee them when i leave for work sometimes, and when i come home, but theyre usually on their vr headsets then. i hate those things so much. its genuinely distopian coming home to your entire family playing vr games, with headphones on, and they dont even hear you say hello. when i dont have work i barely see them too. i just kinda stay in bed. i want to stop doing that, but like i said, i only have one friend. trying to make plans with her is the worst. she has other friends too, and i always feel so awkward always asking her to go places and do things with me. i dont know how to make more friends; i want to start doing things on my own. i dont have any hobbies though. the weather is starting get nicer, warmer. ive been wanting to start hiking; im not very active and im too scared to go by myself. i tried to get back into reading, but my attention span is shot. when i was younger, like in middle school, i could read two books a week with no problems. i started frankenstein recently, its not too late for me to pick it back up. ive just been watching thai bl dramas these last two or so weeks, but thats barely a hobby and definitely not an interest i would want to share. i was looking into learning thai. i think thats somethig i can try to get into as well. reading, hiking, and learning thai. i think it would be much easier to dedicate myself to these things if i had someone to do them with. i was interested in penpals, i even looked on reddit, but something about it scares me. i could maybe try just an email penpal, but that seems extra pathetic (especially finding one on a subreddit). thats probably how i ended up here, talking to myself. i know the only person to read these will probably be myself. i think i just want people to care about me and be interested in what i have going on, even though its not much.ill try to post a lot here, im not sure what about though, maybe about everything. i have a lot of thoughts; i talk to myself a lot.

while im here i guess i can start just talking about my day. i went to work, which was pretty normal. my friend asked me to come to her house today, since its her sisters birthday. at first i really didnt want to because i feel like her sister hates me, but i saw a tweet the other day that said something about accepting invites sand leaving your house even when you dont want to, so i ended up going. i was talking to my coworkers about it today, i was even debating staying aat work an extra 3 hours. it wasnt as bad as i thought it would be. i ate dinner with her family (her mom, dad, and two sisters) and her other friend. ive hung out with her and her friend a couple times; i like her. then we sang happy birthday and ate dessert. its easy talking to her family, but her other friend being there definitely helped. i still felt a little left out, since shes been close to that family for years now, but nothing can be perfect. then we played a game for a little bit until her friend, sister, and i left around 9:30. her mom makes really good food. then i came home and just watched a few episodes of this thai drama, love mechanics, and scrolled through tiktok. for some reason i was feeling sad, so i decided to revive this blog. ill probably watch a few more episodes then go to sleep. i dont have work again until thursday. next week im only working two days, which sucks, but i can try to ask for hours. bye!

[disillusionedjudge]

“I understand you’re doing this for the Empire, but what about us?” The Empire. That’s what this argument was about. It was what every single one of their arguments had been about. It was par for the course, considering they were both actively involved in politics, but Thor felt like it was all they ever talked about lately. “You returned two weeks ago, yet I feel as if you’re still a ghost. I know duty has kept us both busy, but I’ve missed you, and… you’ve been spending so much time with your family lately. Are you upset with me? Do you not wish to speak with me?”

“Do you ever wonder if we’re on the wrong side?” Thor asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Gylfie had always had a temper, and she was angrier than ever when her father had practically denied her the position of Judge Magister. Thor was echoing sentiments she’d heard from Gylfie in the past, but the uneasiness in her stomach couldn’t be ignored forever. “What if Archadia isn’t what we thought it was? What if it’s become corrupted beyond saving? I took an oath, Gylfie, I do not believe I could just dutifully stand by… and the sorts of things the Archadian representatives have been saying in the Congress of Worlds about nethicite chill me to the bone.”

Thor wasn’t from Archadia, and she never would be, no matter how loyal her lover was to her homeland. She didn’t mean to insinuate that the sacrifices had all been for nothing, but at the same time, was Gylfie willingly choosing to ignore the mess the Empire was creating? Or did she really just not care? What happened to the woman who had confessed her love in Thor’s private chambers after protecting her from an attempt on her life?

“I’m becoming afraid. I know that’s not your intention, but… you want to shut me out all the time. A-and you’re keeping secrets from me.” They both were keeping secrets from each other, and their relationship itself was a secret, yet the tension between them was still palpable. What had changed since the last time they’d seen each other? “Please, Gylfie, let me in.”

Thor sighed, and she slid her arm around her lover’s shoulders. She leaned her cheek lightly on her arm. She didn’t want to lose her partner because of politics, and there was no denying her feelings hadn’t changed at all. The five months they’d spent apart had made her heart grow fonder, as the saying went, and she remembered how Gylfie had kissed her when she first arrived on Midgard. If only Thor could get through to her…

“Look,” she said. Her room was quite nice, and she glanced out over the balcony’s edge. The sun was setting, and although Asgard had its own beautiful sights, she was awestruck by the view from her apartment on Midgard. Her soft, loose, pink gown and messy brown bun were far less formal than the clothing she usually wore, yet her own distinct style was clear enough. Her sense of identity was stronger than ever, and she could only hope that her love and pure soul could bring Gylfie back from whatever darkness she was battling.

“I’m sorry. Let’s not talk of politics or war. Let’s say they don’t exist here, in this place. It’s just you and I. You can hold me in your arms, and we can pretend we’re back on Asgard. No responsibilities to distract us, no duties to create distance between us. When we talked about running away together and marrying in secret. The purest of loves, that’s what Sylvie said… Gylfie, I still love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Just… please. I need you, my dearest, especially in times like these. Do not abandon me.”

—

continued from here

What about us? she wanted to ask, but held her tongue - knowing better to say such a thing aloud. “You and I must put our peoples first,” she whispered, but even with their arguments, she never sounded angry. She never raised her voice. Never at Thor. She just sounded… tired. “My love, I want nothing more than to put this all behind to spend my days with you, but I swore an oath to defend my homeland. It is my duty to act in service of the Empire. You know this. And now that my–”

Her voice caught in her throat, and Gylfie could not stop her tears from welling. “It… This is not because of you,” she rasped, and her voice wobbled. “’Tis nothing like… like that. My brother, he… he…” Her head shook, and she stepped away - dragging her hands down her face before she pressed them together and held them against her lips. Her hands trembling as she did her best to steel herself. “Silas is dead.” Her words were hollow and faint - strained against grief she tried to swallow. “My father is a wreck. I have been trying to lead in his stead, but I… I cannot…” Gylfie closed her eyes and took in a shaky breath. Struggling to keep herself composed. “It is all wrong, Thor. Everything is all wrong.”

And it could have been avoided. It could have been avoided if–

Gylfie’s attention snapped back to her partner - her eyes clouded with tears unshed, and she remained silent. Her stomach twisted to hear the words she had once spoken - the words she… hardly believed in. No, she could not believe such a thing. Not when she had gotten so far. Not with everything she had done. Not with her brother’s blood– “I cannot afford to think such things,” she said quietly, despite how ill she felt. “I am doing what I can to save Archadia, and all of Ivalice. I know… I know it may not seem that way, but, my dear–”

She lowered her hands and turned to Thor once more. A desperation bright in her teary eyes as her heart began to beat faster. Please believe me. “The Empire is not too far gone. I know it… it doesn’t seem like it, but a plan is in place, and I must adhere to my part. I need to– I must do this for my brother. I need to play my part, my love. There is a sickness within the Empire, yes-” oh, calling House Solidor a sickness was just barely scratching the surface, “-but it can be fixed. It will be. Thor…”

Gylfie closed the distance between them, and finally took her partner’s hands within her own - squeezing them reassuringly. “Please. Believe me when I say it will not be this way forever. Archadia will change, but we need to play this carefully, or all could be lost. I wish I could tell you more.” And, oh, how that was true. She wanted to let Thor in completely - to reveal to her the quiet plans of encouraging Gramis to rally for peace, and to prevent Vayne from taking the throne. But she had to be cautious, and she feared she would only invite trouble if Thor knew of what was lurking beneath Archadia’s surface. Thor would not betray her, she knew, but she could not trust anyone else around her.

Agony flickered in Gylfie’s eyes as Thor spoke again, and she leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss against her forehead. Still holding her hands as she then pressed her head against hers. “I do not mean to,” she murmured, “but I do not wish to endanger you. To deal with Archadia’s politics is to deal with vipers, and I do not wish to see you bit. Please, my love, just… just trust me in this. Trust that I know what I am doing. I promise, one day, you will not have to fear Archadia’s need for nethicite, for, one day, we will never use it again.” She wanted so desperately for Thor to understand this - to understand that she was doing what was needed. It was not pretty - no, what needed to be done was messy and dangerous - but she would save the Empire. Somehow, she would.

She kissed her partner’s cheek, and let go of her hands as Thor moved to wrap her arms around her shoulders. Gylfie said nothing as she pulled Thor closer and wrapped her arms around her lower back, and nuzzled into her hair. Her heart fluttered, her love for Thor as strong as ever. Gods above, she loved her so much, and when Thor told her to look, she could not help but look at her, first, before she turned her gaze out to the sunset. It was beautiful, but…

“I would much prefer to look at you.” She turned her head back to Thor, and offered a weak smile. Her troubled expression softening as her glassy eyes filled with warmth. A warmth that… only ever lit for Thor, those days. And she listened in silence as her partner spoke again - eager to accept the idea of not speaking of war or politics inside Thor’s apartment. Eager to just hold her, and leave everything else behind. To entertain the idea, once more, that they could marry. That they could run off and it could just be the two of them, and–

Do not abandon me.

Those words stung Gylfie deep, and a knot formed in her throat. Did she really think…? With a slow shake of her head, she hugged Thor tighter, and kissed the side of her head - closing her eyes as she breathed her in. “And I will never stop loving you,” she murmured against her hair, “and I swear to you, I will never abandon you, my heart. I may not always be able to be here, but I will always return to you. But, please… I need you as well. I love you, Thor.”

[neopronouns-in-action]

Neopronouns in Action #085: The Endless River

Neopronouns: av/afo/afi/afozasi and en/eta/ake/etazasi, which follow the same rules as he/him/his/himself

Replace he with av or en

Replace him with afo or eta

Replace  his with afi or ake

Replace himself with afozasi or etazasi

EX:

“He is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as he gets a fence set up around his yard so the puppy can go outside without him having to walk it. His uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting him use, since he lost his. He’s going to buy toys and train the puppy himself.”

becomes:

av/afo/afi/afozasi:

“Av is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as av gets a fence set up around afi yard so the puppy can go outside without afo having to walk it. Afi uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting afo use, since av lost afi. Av’s going to buy toys and train the puppy afozasi.”

or

en/eta/ake/etazasi:

“En is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as en gets a fence set up around ake yard so the puppy can go outside without eta having to walk it. Ake uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting eta use, since en lost ake. En’s going to buy toys and train the puppy etazasi.”

___

“We should have died a long time ago.”

Oru lifted afi eyes from the bottom of the boat to look at Yahmoxa.

En was standing on one of the benches at the back, looking out across the rushing grey water with ake back to Oru.

Av contemplated making many responses in the few moments of comparative silence that followed.

Av could say it wasn’t true, or av could ask what en meant. Av could pretend av hadn’t heard eta, or even pretend to still be asleep. Or just say, “I don’t want to talk about that”, and the matter would be dropped instantly.

And a dozen other things that went through afi mind in the space of time before av said quietly, “Yeah, I know.”

Av didn’t know how long the two of them had been in this boat, on this river. The time all blended in together into a blur of nothing.

The two slept when they were tired. They lay, or sat, or stood awake when they weren’t. The current carrying the boat swiftly along never slowed, changed course, or showed any signs of stopping. The river never forked, or turned in any way they could detect. The dense forest on either side never varied enough in its array of plant and animal life for them to tell one spot from another.

They drank from the river by cupping their hands in to the silty water, and they ate, sometimes, when one of them managed to catch one of the large, slow, eel-like fish that sometimes came to the surface, but nowhere near often enough for what should have been required to keep them alive. The sun never rose or set, so they had no positive way to keep track of the time, but they just knew that, regardless of the sky’s position in the matter, “months”, if not more, had sometimes passed between times when they could eat, and often “weeks” went by before either of them felt thirsty enough to drink from the river.

Still lying at the bottom of the boat where av hadn’t moved from afi curled position, Oru watched as Yahmoxa heaved a long sigh, and stepped down from the bench, still with ake back to Oru.

Yahmoxa looked the same as en always did – a blurry, human-shaped shape, with what appeared to be an orange sleeveless vest, and dark pants that ended at the knee.

Anything more than that, Oru could never see, and it was the same for Yamoxa when en looked at Oru.

No matter how close to eachother they got, they could never clearly see the other, not even their basic skin color, even when they took off all their clothes. Yahmoxa could hold ake hand directly in front of Oru’s eyes, and Oru wouldn’t even be able to guess at anything about it, besides that it was, in theory, a hand-shaped shape.

But they could see themselves perfectly fine when they looked down at themselves, and Yahmoxa had described etazasi for Oru:

Pale skin that was now constantly red from sunburn that didn’t seem to ever improve, but at least also didn’t seem to get any worse. Hair cut just above ake scalp, which never grew any longer. Wide cheekbones and a round face with laugh lines that en could feel with ake finger tips. Hairy arms and legs, with a tiny, scratchy mustache above ake upper lip, and a few random prickles of hair on ake chin.

En was fat, covered in freckles below the sunburn, and had a large curved scar on ake left forearm that en couldn’t remember getting. There were also a collection of little dimpled scars on both of ake knees, that en was sure was from falling off a rock as a child. When en closed ake left eye, whose color en could only guess to be “probably brown, I think my parents had brown eyes”, en could tell that ake right eye saw colors with slightly less saturation and brightness.

Yahmoxa had a dark patch of a birth mark on the back of ake neck, and a large peircing in ake right ear, with a wooden circle stretching the skin, and a black-beaded charm hanging down, which Oru could actually see, faintly.

Oru constantly thought about these details, and more, that had been offered up, because they were the only real image av had of Yahmoxa besides the strange, but now familiar blur av saw when av looked at eta.

And in return, Oru had described what av could see of afozasi for Yahmoxa.

Av had thin brown hair that grew only in sparse patches, leaving most of afi head a patchwork of bare skin and hair, which av couldn’t remember the reason for. Av could only tell from feeling, but was pretty sure the same had happened to afi eyebrows. The only reason Oru knew what color afi hair was was because there was just one patch on afi head long enough to fall in front of afi face when av leaned over far enough.

Both of Oru’s ears were peirced in multiple places, with what felt like different sets of pointed spikes and smoother round circles. There was another peircing in afi nose, which av could see faintly as a blur of silver if av crossed afi eyes.

Afi skin was light brown, and though av couldn’t see it, av was pretty sure av shared the same sunburn Yahmoxa was suffering from, though, like with eta, it didn’t seem to ever get any worse.

Oru was short and fat, and had a seemingly hand-drawn tattoo on afi upper arm of a cat holding a butcher knife in its mouth, saying, “being straight was never an option”.

Trying to deciper that from upside down had whiled away a few minutes for the day av had discovered it, so that had been a nice distraction.

Afi clothes consisted of flowing blue robes with red, black, and white flowers, diamonds, and snakes, with loose, matching blue pants underneath.

Oru’s right leg ended below the knee, and when av needed to, av used the carved wooden staff av had woken up with for balance. Not that there was anywhere for afo go, unless av wanted to go for a swim.

Which was never going to happen.

Oru and Yahmoxa had discussed the idea many times. Just talking about it was fine, it would be a nice way to cool off, and maybe they could risk it and try swimming to shore. Hours had been spent conversing over the subject, sharing any idea that popped into their heads.

But they both felt the same inborn horror any time they actually tried to enact the plan. They could stick their hands in, they could stick their feet in, they could even lean out from the boat to grab things floating past. But if they intended to actually fully get into the water, they wouldn’t be able to. Horror would freeze them in place or make them yank themselves back into the boat and lie there until they calmed down again.

They’d thought of trying to push eachother in, out of sheer rebeliousness against whatever seemed intent on keeping them out of the water, but as soon as it was their intention to do so, the same thing happened. Even if they just planned to be careless enough to make falling in an accident, they found themselves unable to approach the edge of the boat until they stopped trying to get into the water.

They’d mostly given up on that task by this point, but had made a habit of trying every now and then just to see if anything had changed.

But nothing around them ever seemed to change. The sun never set. The river never changed. Their clothes never faded from the sun. Their hair never grew. They never got any older.

They should have died a long time ago, from hunger, or thirst, or the constant exposure to the beating sun, but they didn’t.

Something was keeping them alive.

Oru was still tired, so av laid afi head back down on afi arms and prepared to go back to afi nap, repeating, as Yahmoxa’s blurry form plopped heavily down on on the bench across from afo, “Yeah, I know. I know.”

The river raced on without end, and carried Oru and Yahmoxa with it.

[notacatdown]

Thank you for writing two thoughtful takes on it. Your wonky take is super delightful to read! I've re-read your answer so many times.

"if im to get real technical about it, overnight surgeries are standardly for emergencies, so i mentioned how he could've transmigrated before her, and if we are to believe his surgery happened during the day and he was unconscious through the night, both these things could be possible (him transmigrating first, and him waking up momentarily)"

I like all the details you added, especially this one that's bound to something specific in the real world.

"when i say this, consider it as that half-lucid feeling, where you are aware of the dream that youre having to become an active participant almost. id like to think that is how he couldve been while becoming aware in the CD world, meaning he was waking up in the real world, but couldnt wake up completely just yet due to recovery and/or not wanting to."

I've seen that concept in a 2014 webnovel. The dreamer awakens around the last third of the story when the male protagonist dies, but she doesn't want to accept that everything was a dream. She doesn't want to return to reality yet, and she loses consciousness again. But the tone of the story changes in the second dream. It's been awhile since I read the story, so I'm fuzzy on the details. Subconsciously, she has control of the dream world. On her do-over wedding day, she sees cracks in the world and pretends to not see it. And way before the waking up moment, the author gives hints that this is her dream, not a book transmigration. 

"i mean, just the way he looks at her…" "and the way he looks down in the last panel is a bit solemn? in terms of my theory, as if this was when ziqi was awakened in this world, knows that its miaomiao, but is sad that she doesnt know its him."

Yes! I wish there was meaning to it instead of a fluffy-ish moment.

The candle bit reminds me of this donghua where every time ML's mysterious disease is mentioned, it's followed up with a shot of a lit incense burner, so I thought that was how he was being poisoned. I like to think it was an intentional red herring and not me overthinking things.

"his face is just... weird. it has to mean something... did he see the statue too?

and it almost seems like he doesnt want her to get her memory back out of fear that she'll want to go back home, to the ziqi who is not as brave and cool as mu sheng, where he would struggle to be as impressive and fearless."

It would have been amazing to see them having a conversation about this! His character was in limbo for the last third of the drama. I want to see the scene of Miaomiao finding out and seeing her response beyond a teary look.

The preview of ep 22 made me so hopeful that they were finally going to have a meaningful conversation. The setup is there, but nothing gets resolved. It's like those slow-motion drama scenes where the couple miss each other by a few feet when they're looking for each other, and the perfect moment to reconcile is missed.

---

In the novel, Miaomiao and Mu Sheng fall into a shared dream about a lost memory from his childhood thanks to the system. When they wake up, Mu Sheng uses this opportunity to trick Miaomiao into admitting she's not the real Lin Yu. He tells that he figured out the truth several weeks ago. She asks him why he waited until now to ask her, and he said that he was scared she'll leave him. He thinks she's a ghost from another world possessing Lin Yu's corpse and would naturally run away from demon hunters if her identity is exposed.

He shares that it means so much to him that she doesn't care he's a half-demon He's so happy that he can return her words to her and comfort her in turn, that Miaomiao is Miaomiao. What she is isn't important to him.

He's someone who has crossed the river of denial years ago, dug out a cave for himself, and settled in for lifetime occupancy. For him to bring this up shows that he's finally secure enough in their relationship. It feels so heartwarming to see Mu Sheng gaining confidence in himself and their relationship and becoming braver.

The author never has a character think or mention anything about healing or self-acceptance, but she doesn't need to because she shows it through the changes in how Mu Sheng and Mu Yao think and react. That they take the initiative to have these uncomfortable, scary-to-them conversations instead of continuing to avoid them is one of many examples. 

—

"otherwise, YES, the show IS stingy about miaomiaos loves for him!!! i wish we got filler episodes of all of them and their relationships and building character and stuff. serious shame, bc it affects the dynamic and makes miaomiao, who already is less dimensional bc of the memory loss, now loses even that part of her."

I'm so curious why the drama changed how they interact from the early episodes as well. Originally, every sweet moment shows that they like each other through their actions. For example, instead of a drama scene where Mu Sheng gives Miaomiao the last bun, there's a novel scene where Mu Sheng peels a pomelo for Miaomiao, and she handfeeds him half of it.

He tries to act all natural and calm, so she doesn't notice what she's doing. He's like a mouse driving down the streets late at night, worried he's going to get pulled over. Of course, Miaomiao knows what she's doing. I find his rich inner world where he thinks he's being so sneaky pretty amusing.

(In their married life, Miaomiao begins to notice when he's doing this, but she doesn't say anything when she catches him and simply smiles when he's not looking at her. I like that feeling of she's so indulgent towards him and her understanding of him is deepening.)

And while this is happening, they're having a conversation where Miaomiao is earnestly giving him advice on how to comfort Mu Yao, advice that would work wonderfully if someone like Miaomiao is executing it, but not for Mu Sheng. I like that we're shown a one-size-fits-all approach doesn't work, that Mu Sheng appreciates her good intentions.

Do you have any thoughts on what happened at the end of ep 22 in LGIEF? What is the drama trying to tell us by having Miaomiao have a nightmare that links gaining 100% favorability with the end of the world? Why is the system glitching out? And Mu Sheng seems quite shifty. He's not meeting her eyes and avoiding the topic. During the first watch through, I thought this wasn't a dream. Mu Sheng had "awaken" and that's why his favorability spikes to 100%, which glitches out the system. The dream must end, and he doesn't want it to, so his favorability drops down. Ep 32 disproves that idea. He doesn't regain his memories and reach 100% until the final episode.

I would translate 误给 as mistakenly instead of falsely.

The change in the background music gives off an uneasy and ominous feeling when he says this.

---

Would have been so great to see this scene acted out instead of referenced to! Miaomiao has these two really fun drunk scenes in the novel. After ep 20, it's very noticeable that the show is stingy about showing moments where Miaomiao expresses her love and affection for Mu Sheng. Instead of they're both crazy about each other like in the novel, its mostly Mu Sheng looking at Miaomiao adoringly.

what an interesting question!!! to answer it i went back and rewatched that scene, moments of ep 32, 23, and 1.

if i am seeing it at face value; it could just be a nightmare that she has, which is mixed with her losing her memories as time is progressing. i agree that the music seems to portray an underlying meaning, but if we take it as a type of foreshadowing for what was to come. in that sense, mu sheng is merely trying to ease her mind since she seems worried, and hes simply happy to just be with her.

however, now that youve brought it to my attention… here is my wonky take: ziqi did awaken, but didn't want the story to end yet, and took himself back out. this is such a bullshit take but its fun to think about.

he couldve had his surgery, was in recovery and was in an in between state of waking up but went back to sleep (we dont get a timeline as to when LGIEF is released after his surgery to my knowledge, so whether hes having surgery the entire time miaomiao is "dreaming" is unclear, though i suppose it makes the most sense. still, he could be unconscious post-surgery while shes still dreaming. (and, if im to get real technical about it, overnight surgeries are standardly for emergencies, so i mentioned how he couldve transmigrated before her, and if we are to believe his surgery happened during the day and he was unconscious through the night, both these things could be possible (him transmigrating first, and him waking up momentarily))), and realized he was in the real world instead of his own dream. now, when i say this, consider it as that half-lucid feeling, where you are aware of the dream that youre having to become an active participant almost. id like to think that is how he couldve been while becoming aware in the CD world, meaning he was waking up in the real world, but couldnt wake up completely just yet due to recovery and/or not wanting to. again, this is all crap, i know, LOL.

so, miaomiaos nightmare would then be real. ziqi did reach 100% because when she said that she wasnt really lin yu, i think that did something to him, i mean, just the way he looks at her…

also, the pan to the candlelight, and maybe it was just for cinematic purposes, but after reviewing the eps i mentioned earlier, i dont have any connection to that if it meant anything.

the ziqi we see in the morning could then also be ziqi rather than mu sheng. he tells her to forget about it, and hugs her so gently, wanting to cherish these few moments with her, still unable to say how he feels. but, it also could be mu sheng, and i say this in a way where its mu sheng with the unsettling feeling that he should reassure her, and something is making him feel like hes missing something, hence why he acts how he does.

absolutely nonsensical theory. now that youve read it, ill use images to support it LOL.

the way he stares at her here always felt like someone realizing how in love they were, not just because he cares for her, or because shes messing with his head. it seems like real, genuine, "i love miaomiao" and the way he looks down in the last panel is a bit solemn? in terms of my theory, as if this was when ziqi was awakened in this world, knows that its miaomiao, but is sad that she doesnt know its him.

and then theres the candle. again, probably has no ties to anything, but still.

i think its telling how worried he looks. while you could absolutely say hes just a concerned boyfriend over his drunk girlfriend, he has more of a grip on her hand than she does his.

this felt like he was masking how he felt by joking. but as i said, too, it could be mu sheng back already, with that feeling of unease over what shes saying.

his face is just... weird. it has to mean something... did he see the statue too?

and it almost seems like he doesnt want her to get her memory back out of fear that she'll want to go back home, to the ziqi who is not as brave and cool as mu sheng, where he would struggle to be as impressive and fearless.

otherwise, YES, the show IS stingy about miaomiaos loves for him!!! i wish we got filler episodes of all of them and their relationships and building character and stuff. serious shame, bc it affects the dynamic and makes miaomiao, who already is less dimensional bc of the memory loss, now loses even that part of her.

so happy to discuss this stuff with you, im always open to it!

[tyunkus]

amazon wishlist — kang taehyun

pairing: roommate!kang taehyun x afab!reader summary: your roommate and best friend, taehyun, finds a dildo on your amazon wishlist.

wc: 5.5k

warnings: masturbation, dry humping, dirty talk (praise, some degradation), pet names (princess, angel, baby, pretty), like One spank, teasing/humiliation?, penetrative, safe sex, mention of cunnilingus and handjob, also unrealistic because taehyun games here but. let me live my gamer bf dreams ok?

note: originally wrote this in 3rd person and then had to manually change it to 2nd person so sorry for any mistakes ! also still figuring how this site works so sorry for the plain formatting. i dont actually know if amazon sells dildos, and if they cost $30? probably not but yk... artistic liberty... capitalism...

There’s no chicken.

You notice this one Friday afternoon in the middle of July, while the pavements outside sizzle from the heat and the sun spills through the windows and warms up your back. You’re in the kitchen, sifting through a pathetic heap of frozen food. Usually, you head to the nearby supermarket after pilates class to pick up a pack of bacon; other times, Taehyun comes home after a day with Kai bearing a bag of frozen wedges. Either way, it’s clear that neither of you have bought anything edible since your last grocery run two weeks ago.

Frozen french fries. Korean corndogs. A half-empty pack of fishcakes. No chicken.

You open the fridge, eyes skimming over its meager contents, as if it would be there. It isn’t. You open the freezer again, wondering if the gods above would be so gracious as to summon some chicken breast into your freezer to feed you and your roommate tonight. They don’t.

“Maybe we should go grocery shopping.”

You’re fresh from a long, elaborate shower. Your hair falls in wet tresses over your shoulders and you’re clad in dolphin shorts and a big shirt that might have been Taehyun’s but you borrowed so often and for so long that he probably forgot it ever belonged to him. It’s your turn to cook dinner and you’re grumbling over the fact that Taehyun cooked your only remaining pack of chicken breast last night when you hear his bedroom door click open.

Just in time. A shitty rap song follows the sound of the soft padding of his footsteps against the floor. “Hey, you home?” he calls from halfway down the hallway, but you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“I told you I would cook chicken and you still finished it last night, and now there’s nothing for me to cook, asshole,” you say, more exasperated than angry. You turn around just as he walks in, wearing nothing but black joggers and his obnoxious RGB headset. His eyes are wide and bashful. You wrinkle your nose and turn around again. “What happened to your shirt?”

Taehyun has the decency to sound sheepish. “Sorry, I was playing with the boys,” he mumbles, like that wasn’t painfully obvious already. You have no problem with seeing Taehyun or shirtless guys by themselves, but a shirtless Taehyun has you torn between wanting to throw up and throwing away your clothes. Maybe to other people having a first-class view of his washboard abs sounds like a blessing, but to you, it’s only a level below mental distress.

“Tell Kai I said hi,” you say absently, now going through your drawers for restaurant flyers (if worse comes to worst, you’ll order takeout for tonight). “Anyway, what’d you come outside for?”

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

At this, you peer over your shoulder, studying Taehyun’s face. He doesn’t look particularly upset, just stoic, which is a dangerous sign in itself. Taehyun’s usually calm, but he’s not stoic—at least, not in this stage of your friendship, when Taehyun has known you long enough to stop pretending that he’s some sort of tsundere.

“Is something wrong?” you ask softly, turning around to lean against the counter.

“I saw your wishlist on Amazon. Why do you have a dildo on there?”

The words fall on you like a bucket of hardened cement. You feel your heart rate increase by about a thousand beats.

“I—you what?” you sputter in disbelief. There are a few seconds in-between this moment of horror where you want to scold him, yell at him, do anything, but it’s not like he’s in the wrong. It’s your Amazon wishlist. But why was he snooping around on it? And why did you put a dildo on it? Fuck. Your mind searches for an intelligent response, but all that falls out of your mouth is, “Other people can see that?”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows. “Yes? I hope you didn’t share it with your parents or anything, ‘cause it’s like, the first one on the list.”

You grip the counter, suddenly feeling very ill. “Oh. Shit.” You had not done anything of the sort—you kept your parents away from your online presence for that very reason. But if anyone was to stumble upon your questionable wishlist on Amazon dot com, you weren’t expecting Taehyun of all people. Your best friend? And roommate? Really? Fuck Jeff Bezos, for real.

“But that’s besides the point,” Taehyun says, advancing towards you, and you back up a little. Between his tall, wide-shouldered frame and you being a good bit smaller, you discover that it is very, very easy to feel intimidated, almost trapped, by him. “Why do you need to buy one? You know I got a dick, right?”

It’s like another punch to the stomach, except someone also crushed your head with a boulder. If you weren’t red before, you definitely are now, sweat pooling at your palms at his implication. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

Taehyun shrugs and reaches behind you to grab a glass from the dish holder. “I’m just saying,” he says, making his way over to the sink. “Why waste thirty dollars on some plastic when you can get the real thing for free? And better?”

Are you even hearing him right? “Genuinely what are you on,” you say, still aghast. “I wanted to buy one because—because—I mean, I-I don’t know, it’s normal! Shit, Taehyun, does it really matter? Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

He shrugs again. “Why not?”

You say the first thing that pops into your mind. “What if it sucks?”

Taehyun only laughs. “You really have that little faith in me?”

“I don’t know!” You think briefly on the sex talks you two have had—some you had sprawled over each other on the couch, glasses of soju in hand; others you had during movie nights, clay masks smeared over your faces while you struggled not to laugh too hard. They were fun, sure, but it’s one thing to hear Taehyun talk about fucking other people and another to hear him talk about fucking you. To your knowledge, Taehyun’s pretty good in bed, but… But why are you even considering it? You both have been best friends for years. If you have sex, it’s only going to ruin your friendship. There are other ways for you to feel good—ways that don’t risk a seven-year friendship and getting kicked out of the apartment.

“I don’t know,” you say again, suddenly terrified at yourself for not giving him a straight answer. It should be a hard, flat no! You shouldn’t be considering it all! Yet here you are, your brain suddenly full of the thought of Taehyun and his dick.

“Hey, I’m just saying. Trying to open up some options for you here. I’m one hundred percent willing, but only if you are.” Taehyun puts up his hands like that settles it. He flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay? And if you still don’t want to, that’s chill too. We’ll both act like this never happened.”

Is that even possible? “Right,” you say, feeling faint. “Okay, yeah.”

Taehyun’s smile doesn’t fade. You can only watch as he takes a swig of water and shuffles happily to his room.

You think about it. Probably a bit too much.

You have an essay to write for your class, and it’s due in a few hours—but you can’t stop thinking about it. It being Taehyun fucking you. In your defense, you’ve been pent up all week, trying to balance your academics and health and social life and Taehyun all without having any time for yourself, so it makes sense, you think. You hope it makes sense that you’re fantasizing about your roommate, considering everything that’s happening to you.

You shut your laptop and sigh, lying back down on your bed. Taehyun has been acting completely normal in the three days between now and when he had first made his offer, which you are endlessly grateful for, but also bewildered by. He had even paid for takeout that same night, and you had eaten it together on the floor of your living room, and it was like nothing had even happened. Still, you’ve been mulling it over ever since. Pondering it, if you will. And it’s not your first time. Many nights you have found your tired, worn-out brain wandering to your roommate, his pretty face, great body, cute personality… How it would feel. What he would do. Taehyun, leaning over you, kissing you, running his pretty hands up and down your skin. Nipping at your collarbone with his sharp, perfect teeth. Grazing them along your neck, sucking at the soft parts.

Fuck. You’re wet.

You feel crazy.

Your hands slide down your panties, face burning with shame. The only thing you can think of is Taehyun, his soft skin and pretty brown eyes, his lean arms and chest. You picture him above you, caging you between his arms, a glittering smile on his face as he touches you, his back muscles flexing. Do you like that? he whispers, his voice low and raspy. You don’t even have to work hard to imagine what he sounds like during sex—the walls here are awfully thin, he’s a twenty-one-year-old guy, and you’ve thought about it more often than not.

“Fuck,” you keen, your hips rolling up as you dip your finger into your folds. Your free hand trails up your torso and into your mouth; you roll your tongue around your fingers and wish, crazily, that you were sucking on Taehyun’s instead. “Shit, oh f—”

“About your offer.”

You’re sitting at the dining table. Taehyun is halfway through his serving of pancakes that you made for him in a partly-tired, mostly-horny daze. After a particularly busy morning, you can’t remember much of last night other than the fact that you fucked yourself sore and came three times in a row, no refractory period, and now you can barely hold your fork.

Taehyun looks up at you. He’s shirtless again. If you were any crazier you would be disappointed that he never left much room for imagination before your first time together. “My offer,” he echoes.

“From a few days ago,” you clarify, poking your fork through your slice of toast. “The. You-fucking-me thing.”

“Ah.” Taehyun leans back and you can tell he’s fighting down a smile. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well. I’ve been kinda… you know, lately,” you begin, staring hard at your plate, “and I was gonna buy the… you know, but then I realized my shipping address is still at my parents’ house and I really don’t want to wait for another week or pay extra to get it the next day or pay thirty dollars for a plastic dick so—”

“So you want me to fuck you?”

You let out a breath and brave a glance at him. “Yeah,” you mumble.

“That’s all you had to say,” Taehyun says with a smile. He pushes his plate away and fixes you with a look. “When do you want to do it? Kinda weird to be planning this out, no?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do it,” you groan.

Taehyun laughs, reaching over to touch your arm. “Don’t worry about it. What about later tonight? After you’re finished with your homework, I can help you unwind,” he suggests, and he sounds like he’s just telling you about the weather—but his voice has dropped about three octaves and normally you would find this shit cringe, but. Holy fuck.

You aren’t one for slutshaming, but perhaps you are one yourself. You squeeze your thighs together and nod, your gaze falling to the table. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“Good. You can come to my room once you’ve finished. I won’t be playing tonight, so don’t worry about interrupting. Well, you might be interrupting something, but—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Nooo need to elaborate,” you spit, standing up and picking up your plate. Taehyun laughs as you walk over to the sink and put away your dish. When you return back to the dining table, he continues eating like nothing happened. “I’ll go study now.”

“Study well, pretty.”

You make a vague sound of affirmation before slipping inside your room again. You back up against the door and take a second to breathe, then shuffle over to your closet.

Your panties are wet. Again.

“Come in.”

You step inside his room. It’s dark—his lights aren’t on, save for the RGB strips on his setup. He sits on his chair, legs spread, lap looking awfully inviting. For once, he’s wearing a hoodie, and he looks like he just got off a game.

“I expected to catch you at a more… compromising time,” you say, carefully.

“Funny way to say you wanted to see me jerking off.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say with a frown, and you stop walking in front of his chair. Taehyun pats his lap. He’s smiling so, so wide.

“Take a seat.”

You’re grateful when his hands reach up to cup your waist, guiding you as you slide a leg over him and sit down. It’s weird—oddly comfortable, but your tits are pressed up against his chest and your faces are really, really close. Like, close enough you can see each of his eyelashes. He’s so, so pretty.

Taehyun looks you in the eye. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice soft. When you nod, he hums and squeezes your waist. “Alright. Tell me about your day.”

“Huh?”

“Foreplay, baby. That’s like, the whole essence of a hookup.” Taehyun raises his eyebrows at you. “Would you just play along?”

“Fine, fine. I didn’t do mu—oh,” you gasp, as Taehyun’s lips latch onto your neck, pulling you into him. “Ah, fuck. I didn’t do much. I—I woke up early and did some assignments. Got a ninety percent on my mock exams.”

“Woah,” Taehyun says, pulling away. His eyes are bright. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“Damn. Good job. Sometimes I forget you’re smart and hot,” he murmurs in between kisses. “Perfect girl.”

Holy shit. “Um—and then I went to the gym and this guy asked me for my number,” you continue. Taehyun licks at your throat and bites down hard. “Ow, fuck you. I said no thanks and then went back home and showered.”

“Did you do anything in the shower?”

You scoff as he licks along your jaw. “No. I’m not a perv like you.”

“Not a good idea to make fun of the guy who’s about to fuck you.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“And then what?”

“And then I had breakfast with you and after, I… I fucked myself a little.” Taehyun groans and your breath hitches in your throat. “I thought of you.”

He chuckles. “I would have been a little confused if you hadn’t. You must have been so pent up, baby, huh?”

You grab a fistful of his hair and pulls him away from your neck so your eyes meet. “I’ve been thinking of you. For a long time. Even before you made the offer,” you say, barely breathing. Your grip loosens, and you watch as his eyes grow dark. “Anytime I got h-horny, I—I imagined you. And I… was going to buy the toy ’cause I never thought I’d get the real thing with you.”

Taehyun seems taken aback, but his face of faint surprise melts into his usual cocky smile and he presses his lips against yours.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the real thing is a little bigger than five inches, baby.”

If you weren’t wet before, you’re drenched now. You feel a little bad for his grey sweatpants, the front all smeared with your precum. But knowing Taehyun, he’d probably like that.

You continue kissing for a while, Taehyun’s gaming chair creaking incessantly underneath your weight, but you’re too turned on to be bothered. He’s still playing with your panties, rubbing you over them. You honestly, truly might die.

“Taehyun,” you say, pulling away. He looks like a mess, lipgloss smeared all over his mouth, hair messy from your constant running your hands through them. “Can you touch me?”

“I am touching you, baby.”

You whine. “No, no, like—like inside me, please, fuck.”

“Use your pretty voice to ask me nicely.”

You take a deep breath but it’s let out as a whimper. “Please, Taehyun. Fuck me with your fingers,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Please, please. Please.”

“Good job, princess. Of course. Anything you want.”

And you—you almost die, and it shows with the way you squeezes your thighs together and nuzzle your face deeper into his shoulder, letting out a soft moan when he finally moves to comply.

Taehyun seems to notice, because something in his eyes shifts and he leans in, kissing your cheek. “Do you like it when I praise you, baby? Come on, tell me everything. Tell me what turns you on. Want to make you feel good.”

“I like praise, yeah,” you say, your voice trembling as he moves his hands down to the hem of your panties. “Praise and… And some degradation, too, but mostly praise. I like pet names and—fuck—biting and spanking and k-kissing, fuck, even just kissing turns me on so much.”

“I can tell, baby.” Taehyun glides a finger over your cunt and smiles. “You’re fucking soaked. So cuuute.” He coos it, like you’re some sort of cute doll and not his fucking roommate whose pussy he’s playing with.

It makes you whimper, your fingers shaking where they should be holding onto Taehyun’s shoulders. “Ugh, fuck,” you squeak. “Fuck you.”

“Let me do it first. Grind down on me, pretty.”

You comply and gasp a little at the hardness underneath you. “Fuck. You’re so—”

Taehyun hums, his hands moving to your waist, helping you rock harder against him. “Just for you. I’ve been hard all day just thinking about you.”

You make a pathetic sound at the back of your throat and kiss him, your mind suddenly flooded with images of him touching himself right here in his chair, the slick sound of his hand wrapped around his cock, all while he thinks of you. Without warning, he reaches up his free hand and lightly taps at your cheek; you don’t even have to think about it before your mouth falls open and his fingers slide in.

“Perfect,” Taehyun breathes, and your heart skips in your chest. “You’re so good, fuck. Didn’t even have to ask, what a good girl.”

You grind down harder. Taehyun throws his head back and lets out something between a sigh and a groan. “Fuck, princess,” he rasps. “You’re so cute.” He reaches up with his other hand to caress your flushed face. “You feel really—ugh—really fucking good.”

“Oh my god, wait, fuck, wait—” You whimper around his fingers and slow to a stop; your hands clutch at the back of his hoodie. You whine into the cloth, breathing him in, feeling him all over you. His hands move down to your waist, squeezing gently. You can hardly breathe. “I… I was getting close. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Taehyun shifts a little under you; you huff when his hands slide under your ass and he moves to stand up, lifting you with him. “Let’s move to the bed, then,” he grunts, and your legs close around his waist as he carries the both of you to his bed.

He preoccupies himself by kissing you—your lips don’t move away from each other’s as you tumble onto the mattress. Your mind is racing. You’ve imagined kissing Taehyun so many times before, fantasized about how it felt, and these past few days it was all you could think about. His lips are so warm, his hands even warmer where they wander on your skin. You want him close, closer. Inside.

You break the kiss. “Taehyun,” you murmur against his lips. “Taehyun, please.”

Thankfully, Taehyun seems to understand what you’re getting at, and doesn’t make you beg for it—he’s shimmied out of his sweats and hoodie in record time, with only boxers and a wife beater left. He smiles down at you, gentle, loving. “Could you undress for me?”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You pull your dolphin shorts down and kick them off your ankles, trying your best to peel off your shirt as you do so. Taehyun is fully shirtless now, shadows cast across his toned muscles, and his hands probe at his boxers, but his eyes are fixed on you.

You have never felt so exposed wearing your favorite set of lingerie—you fight the urge to cover your stomach with your arms and instead opt to look up at Taehyun from under your lashes and hope he’s as horny as you are right now.

It takes a moment for Taehyun to recollect himself, but when he does, his hands are immediately on you, awed at your softness. “Damn,” he breathes.

“How eloquent of you.”

Taehyun laughs, running his hands down your waist. “No, I—” He breathes out another chuckle, his eyes trailing down to your belly. “No, you’re just perfect.”

Your cheeks heat and you feel yourself throb a little at his praise. “Says you. Know how many guys would kill to have your body?”

“Know how many guys would kill to have such a beautiful, sexy, smart girl like you?”

You press your lips together. You can’t help but think about how nice he looks, seated between your legs. “A lot of guys would be after you, it seems.”

“Can’t blame them. Fuck, your thighs,” Taehyun groans, moving his hands over them. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands look—are—huge. “Oh my fucking god. Promise me you’ll let me eat you out.”

You blink. “Of course,” you say. “Could you get to fucking me already?”

Taehyun laughs. “Right, sorry. Let me take my boxers off first.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, it should be in the hoodie pocket.”

You retrieve the hoodie from the other side of the bed and feel around in its pocket before your fingers graze the plastic; you immediately pick it up and throw the hoodie on the floor. Meanwhile, Taehyun is finally fully naked and stroking himself; you turn even redder. Fuck, you want him so bad.

You tell him so. “Hurry, hurry, please,” you gasp, tossing the unopened condom packet to Taehyun, who chuckles.

“On your hands and knees, angel.”

You obey and whimper impatiently as Taehyun opens the condom and puts it on.

“Jesus, baby, you’re such a mess already and I haven’t even put it in,” Taehyun mumbles. You feel the bed dip where he climbs onto it again, and moans when he gives your ass a smack. “Needy. That’s what you are. Needy and impatient.”

You whimper. “Please, pleasepleaseplease, just put it in, put it in—” Taehyun pushes the small of your back so you drop face-first onto the mattress, cheek squished against the blankets. It smells like him. Everything smells like him. For once you fall silent when he announces he’s sliding in and you feels it poking at your entrance. Your eyes squeeze shut.

He slides in the first inch and you can’t help but whine. “Pleeeease, Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice high and reedy. He complies without an answer, sliding in more, slowly, until he’s almost halfway. You let out a squeak.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyun coos. “Don’t think you can take it?”

You make a small, pathetic noise at the back of your throat. “Nonono,” you cry. “You’re just… really big. Bigger than that—that dumb f-fucking dildo.”

“Aw, am I r-r-really?” Taehyun grins and eases another inch into you before you get the chance to retort. You suck in a breath instead, bunching the sheets into your hands. In a moment of guilt, he uses his other hand to give your waist a reassuring squeeze, then leans over to push back your hair for you. “Damn, you’re tight. You can take it, though, can’t you?”

You whimper. “Ah, shit, yes.”

“That’s it. There you go. Doing such a good fucking job, taking my cock.”

Taehyun kisses your shoulder as he slides in the rest, a string of pathetic whimpers and cries leaving your mouth as he bottoms out. Once his thighs touch the back of yours, he stays very still, letting you adjust to the size.

To both your surprise, you are the one who breaks the almost-silence with a short huff as you prop yourself on your elbows. “You… you can move now,” you grit out, sounding almost pained.

Taehyun hums. “Tell me first. Which do you like better? The toy or my cock?”

You’re silent, but he can see your knuckles whitening as you grip the bedsheets. Taehyun scoffs and grabs both your arms with his hand, pulling them behind you with a grunt. You yelp as his cock hits a different angle inside of you.

“Tell me. Which one is better? I won’t move until you tell me.”

You whimper for a few moments, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. You take a shaky breath and let your head hang. “Y-you,” you mumble.

“Louder, pretty.”

“I like your cock better—hmf—better than the toy,” you say. Taehyun can hear the tears in your voice and his belly flip-flops. So fucking hot.

He might have said that out loud—you might have heard him—but he doesn’t have time to think about the possibilities, because at once he’s drawing his hips away from yours and slamming back inside again. The reaction is immediate. You keen, chest heaving at the intensity. 

“Fuck,” you croak, clinging onto the bedsheets.

“God,” Taehyun breathes, holding you up to his chest, “I’m obsessed with you.” He mouths at your neck and you whimper.

“Don’t bite too hard,” you plead. Taehyun bites down harder in response.

“I’ll bite as hard as I want,” he says, but there’s no heat in his words, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder right after. His hands snake up your body, from your hips to your waist until they stop comfortably at your tummy. He thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace, kissing mindlessly at any sliver of skin he can get his lips on. “Been dreaming about this for ages, you know. I’ve been wanting to fill you up for the longest time.”

Fire stirs within the pit of your stomach at the thought. “I do, too. Fingered myself thinking it was your cock,” you mumble back, delirious, and you can feel him smile against your shoulderblades. Suddenly, he slides out, flips you over and enters you once more in a single swift movement. His pace picks up and you exhale slowly, melting into the pleasure, your eyes trained on the array of faces he’s making above you.

“You’re perfect, angel.” Taehyun’s voice drops into a murmur, his bangs falling perfectly around his face. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you, baby. Not only because you’re really hot, but”—he lets out a moan here—“also ’cause I really, really like you, and I don’t wanna fuck the shit out of you for no reason, I—I also wanna take you on dates, and—” He pauses and groans when you squeeze down on him, eyes twisting shut. “Ah, shit, and I wanna fuck you not as a one time thing, but—fuck, but as like, a boyfriend thing—mm—you know?”

You let out a moan, your eyes cracking open incredulously. “You’re telling me this now?” you pant.

Taehyun laughs but goes even faster, his hands still tight around the softness of your waist. You cry out and latch onto his strong arms, wondering if this is happening, if this is real, if Taehyun really just confessed to you in the middle of rearranging your guts. You can’t believe this. Your heart flutters. Your pussy throbs. God, what is wrong with him?

Taehyun’s hand moves up to your jaw. He tilts your chin up and presses your lips together in a slow, slow kiss. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. Shit,” he says, kissing you again and again. He looks almost desperate, moving inside you, his entire face flushed red. “I love kissing you. Such a pretty girl, my baby, aren’t you? I—oh, fuck, you feel so good, I like you so much.”

“Shit,” you mewl, reaching up to cup his face. He kisses the corner of your mouth, moving almost desperately now, moaning loudly against your skin. “Fuck, Taehyun, you’re crazy—fuck—”

“Tell me how beautiful you are,” Taehyun rasps, not sounding like himself at all, but he moves his hips impossibly faster, and his hand trails down to your neck. “Tell me how pretty you look while your pussy chokes this dick, fuck.”

You wail, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrists. “I’m—’m a puh-pretty girl, fuck, ’m so pretty—”

“That’s right, princess. Are you close? You wanna come?” he rasps, reaching down now to rub your clit. “Go ahead, baby, come on my cock, please, fuck, come on—”

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your breath hitching, as you feel the waves of your oncoming orgasm. 

“—cream on it, sweet girl, make me proud, wanna feel you coming for me, ’cause of me—”

You cry out from underneath him and you jolt so suddenly it startles him; your back arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around him and you go very, very still. You come for a long time, breathing and whining throughout it; Taehyun keeps moving, easing you out of it, his hands rubbing and squeezing your waist until finally your muscles relax and you go slack, melting back into the mattress.

“That’s it, pretty, good job,” he murmurs, running feather-light touches up and down your torso. “Good job, princess, what a sweet girl.”

He slides out of you after a minute, and you make a noise; you crane your neck to watch as he peels off the condom. “Did you come?” you ask, your voice awfully quiet. He looks up at you and smiles.

“It’s fine, baby.”

You move to sit up. “No, no—”

“Angel, I’m good.”

“You’re still—”

“Shush.” Taehyun scoots closer to you, settling on his elbows between your legs. “I still want to taste you.”

An hour later, you find yourselves lying in bed together. After making you come another time on his tongue and finally coming after the world’s best handjob, Taehyun had scooped you up and seated you in the bathtub, where you took turns washing each other’s hair and giggling deliriously about what had just happened. You smell overwhelmingly like his shitty male body wash, but you find it hard to care that much when he’s buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Seeing that your friendship was effectively ruined in the best way possible, you find it hard not to giggle a little, wrapped in his arms. Taehyun’s hands, sliding smooth and gentle across your torso, stop abruptly.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, sounding affronted.

“You. You’re ridiculous.”

“What? I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just ask me out on a date? As opposed to offering to fuck me. You came off a little strong with that, you know,” you mumble. “Now that I think about it, it was kind of a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Taehyun grumbles. “I’ve asked you out to dinner multiple times but you kept calling them friend dates so I gave up on that.”

“You were trying to flirt with me? I had no idea.”

“Clearly. That’s why I had to stop trying to make romantic advancements and just settled on asking to fuck you instead. The dildo was the perfect incentive.” His fingers move up to tangle in your hair. “I had—I have, like, the biggest, stupidest crush on you. It’s embarrassing.”

You smile. “Lucky you. I like you, too.”

He breathes out, presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Thank god. I was waiting for you to say it,” he says quietly. “We don’t have to talk about it now, though. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine with me. Why were you even looking at my Amazon wishlist, anyway?”

“Well.” Taehyun stills his hands and clears his throat. “I was trying… to pick out… a birthday gift for you.”

“A birthday gift?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t laugh.”

You start to laugh. “Oh my god,” you say again, in between giggles. “My birthday isn’t for another two months, dumbass.”

“I wanted to be prepared!” Taehyun protests, pinching lightly at your waist. “I told you, I have the biggest fucking crush on you. I was gonna give you a bunch of little gifts. And actually, I was planning to ask you to be my girlfriend. I was so excited, too. Asked the guys for help and everything. Soobin was going to hold up the sign. And Beomgyu was in charge of finding a nice place.”

You snort, twisting around to kiss him. “Sorry for laughing. You’re just an idiot sometimes,” you mumble, and kiss him again. “If it makes you feel better, I would have said yes. And anyway… I kinda knew you liked me. The walls are very thin, you know.”

Taehyun tenses up behind you. “What?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“I hear you jacking off all the time. I’m sorry to break it to you. At least you sound pretty.”

Taehyun groans and presses his nose between your shoulderblades. “Fuck you,” he says, muffled.

You hum. “We’re even.”

tyun: pussy so good i professed my undying love for her

[solarpunkani]

Sonic the Hedgehog and Solarpunk Ideals

Alright, it's June 23rd which means not only is it Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, but it's also Sonic the Hedgehog's 32nd birthday. Let's all say Happy Birthday Sonic the Hedgehog.

Overall, that means it's time for me to do something I usually don't do on this blog--talk about Sonic the Hedgehog, one of my favorite series of all times. Specifically, how I feel it embodies Solarpunk at least a little bit. Hopefully you'll see where I'm coming from by the end of this.

Real quick though, special shout out to @modern-solarpunk for being my beta reader 100/10 owe you my life.

Alright let’s make one thing clear. I’m a Sonic nerd. I’ve been a Sonic nerd since at least the 5th grade. Sonic the hedgehog is one of My Things. IDK if I’d call it a hyperfixation, but it’s definitely one of My Things, and it’s been one of My Things longer than gardening or even Solarpunking and all the other stuff y’all know me for has been. I am about to talk y’alls ears off. Buckle up.

With that in mind, I’m not going to pretend that the Sonic franchise is a perfect franchise made by perfect people working under a perfect corporation. Even ignoring the timeline disasters, retconning, and rushed projects (*cough cough Sonic 06 and Sonic Boom cough cough*), Sonic the Hedgehog is made by a corporation in a capitalistic world who has done some… iffy things in the past, present, and likely the future. We are, here, today, strictly talking about two things--the creation of Sonic and the creation of Dr. Eggman. There will be a super special third topic I bring up later, but that's gonna be its own post. I’ll bring up a handful of things from the shows, comics, movies, etc. If I finish writing and editing and posting this whole lengthy diatribe and someone ignores this paragraph and brings up some inane unrelated shit that the Big Corporation Guys did That One Time Months/Years Ago I might snap. Yes, corporations are bad. Yes, I like Sonic. Let’s establish that.

Ok let’s actually get started.

Sonic the Hedgehog the Dude, Tiny Rebellions, and Freedom

Alright, so Sonic the Hedgehog is a series of games, movies, comic books, TV shows--it's a whole thing, it's an entire franchise. The basics of what you need to know here is that a little 3’3” superpowered anthropomorphic blue hedgehog dude and his array of equally-animalian and equally-colorful friends are ruining the robotics-based evil world takeover plans of a 6’1” egg-shaped human dude on the regular. Occasionally, there are other villains, and other storylines, and sometimes the motivations change, but that sentence boils down the Sonic the Hedgehog storyline to its base essentials. 

The Sonic franchise was dreamed up in 1990 when SEGA needed a new mascot to compete with Nintendo’s iconic Mario. Personality-wise, he’s said to have been inspired by “a modern sensibility of wanting to get things done right away, righting wrongs as they presented themselves instead of letting them linger.” As we currently know him, with Sonic “What you see is what you get--just a guy who loves adventure.” He’s a free-spirited drifter who goes with the flow, valuing freedom above all else and wanting nothing more than to live by his own rules and whims rather than bowing to the expectations of others. He loves interacting with the many cultures on his planet (which we mostly see in Sonic Unleashed, but still), trying local dishes with friends frequently. Overall, Sonic is driven by a strong sense of justice and fairness, fighting for the ideal of freedom rather than the name of the law--and he always fights for the underdog. He likes to handle things on his own, but he isn’t above looking to his friends for help when needed--and acknowledges their role in his life and achievements regularly (if he can be a bit smug at times). He appreciates scenic views and nature, with a special fondness for places filled with plants--we see him do this lots in the series--and he hates when people destroy it for their own gain. He doesn’t hate cities, though, and finds they have their own beauty.

So what’s Solarpunk about this? In my eyes, a good bit. If you don’t know what Solarpunk is, it’s described on Wikipedia as ‘a literary and artistic movement that envisions and works towards actualizing a sustainable future interconnected with nature and community.” Aesthetically, I like to describe it as a mix between sci-fi and cottagecore, with a particular leaning towards some steampunk and some cyberpunk elements, but in a brighter, cleaner, more hopeful way. It's important to note, however, that Solarpunk is also a practical and political action mindset--as much as Solarpunks dream of a hopeful future and work to visualize it, we also work to learn the concepts and take the actions needed to make it a reality. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that Sonic is super politically revolutionary, I’m here to talk about how Sonic fits into the aesthetics of Solarpunk.

As such, lets get into the point--I feel like Sonic is pretty Solarpunk, personality-wise. He just fits a lot of the core tenants--wants to right wrongs ASAP, whether they’re his wrongs or wrongs of the past. He values freedom, traveling, and beautiful natural places--a big chunk of Solarpunk is learning to appreciate and protect the natural species around you, and plenty of people have dreamed up nomadic Solarpunk societies. Even Sonic living by his own rules instead of bowing to expectations fits in Solarpunk--A Solarpunk Manifesto states that “the ‘punk’ in Solarpunk is about rebellion, counterculture… and enthusiasm. it is about going in a different direction than the mainstream…” People in the Solarpunk movement care deeply about freedom, justice, fairness, and fixing the broken systems we deal with today--and often start the legwork by forming or taking part in community-based movements and initiatives. We lean onto those around us for strength and courage, to work as a group to think of solutions to problems, whether that be something small like trading DIY patch instructions to bigger things like planning and creating community gardens to even sharing news about unionizing and more. There’s acts a Solarpunk can do alone--like guerrilla gardening, or moss graffiti, or drawing and writing concepts of a brighter future--but we all know we’re at our strongest when we’re not just one, but many. 

But one of my biggest arguments to Sonic being Solarpunk actually centers around his nemesis--Doctor Eggman.

Doctor Eggman as the Antithesis of Solarpunk

After all, it’s pretty hard to talk about how a hero of a series is Solarpunk without discussing the people and forces he fights against, and most of the time that’s Doctor Ivo Robotnik--better known to most as Dr. Eggman. He was developed more or less directly alongside Sonic the hedgehog, and as such the notes about his creation not only influence his character, but the character and vibe of most of the franchise so far. So who is Doctor Eggman?

Doctor Eggman is often described as the World’s Vilest Person--he’s evil, mean, cruel-spirited, and a self-proclaimed genius scientist who only really thinks about what he wants and what he needs to do to get it--getting pleasure in crushing anything that gets in his way. His main goal is to establish his Eggman Empire across the entire planet and build his own version of a utopia, Eggmanland--usually taking the form of a polluted, smog-filled city or a robotic theme park. His plans have varied from excavating natural spaces and turning woodland creatures into robotic slaves (Sonic 1, 2, 3), using doomsday devices to threaten nations and blow up the moon (Sonic Adventure 2), tie down planets for his own purposes (Sonic CD, Sonic Colors), or even using cosmic forces beyond his comprehension to flood metropolises or literally rip the planet apart (Sonic Adventure, Sonic Unleashed). In the comics and some shows, he even takes it a step further--a common theme with him is Roboticization, wherein people are forcibly turned from organic beings into robot slaves. Sometimes its a machine fulfilling this sometimes-irreversible process (Archie Comics, Sonic the Hedgehog Cartoon, Sonic Underground), while other times its an all-consuming virus that grows out of his control and turns almost the entire planet into raving robotic zombies (IDW Sonic Comics issues #12-29). He’s fueled by delusions of grandeur, believing that all of the world’s problems would be solved if he specifically were in charge of everyone all the time and had things his way, and makes robotic inventions and weapons to obtain power. He’s overflowing with self-confidence and pride, highlighting his ‘scientific genius’ whenever he can. He’ll leave temporary allies to rot if it gives him a chance to take all the credit and power for  himself, he looks down on everyone else and sees them as insignificant, only interested in what benefits him. Fairness and community? With Doctor Eggman? Forget it, he’ll steal candy from a baby and then turn it into a robot if given the chance. And even with robotic helpers he makes himself, he quickly gets sick of them--Eggman doesn’t do friends. 

I’d compare him to Elon Musk, but at least Dr. Eggman is actually a genius.

A Solarpunk Manifesto was published in 2019, describing Solarpunk as “A movement in speculative fiction, art, fashion, and activism that seeks to answer and embody the question ‘what does a sustainable civilization look like, and how can we get there?’”. Eggmanland is not how we get there--Doctor Eggman is an embodiment of everything the Solarpunk ideology stands against, and not entirely by accident. Here’s a quote from Yuji Naka, one of the creators of Sonic the Hedgehog.

“Robotnik was created to be the opposite of Sonic, and to be the bad guy. At that time, there was opposition between "developers" and "environmentalists", and Robotnik was created to represent machinery and development.”

He represents it pretty well--his common motifs are imperialism and pollution, and his version of a utopia is often reminiscent of pre-EPA photos of US cities. Sometimes its done to a cartoonish level--but the point still stands. Whenever we catch glimpses of Eggman’s ‘Home Bases,’ whether its Scrap Brain Zone in Sonic 1, Chemical Plant in Sonic 2, Metallic Madness in Sonic CD, or elsewhere, we’re always seeing tons of mechanization, smog, pollution, and death robots.

Solarpunks aren’t opposed to technology--not in the slightest. But I feel its safe to say that any Solarpunk would be opposed to the over-industrialized, hyper-mechanized, pollution-riddled empire hellscape that Eggman would call heaven. (And you know damn well he'd be all over those Boston Dynamic robot dogs if he were real). To me, Eggman represents the grim-dark futures that apocalyptic stories tell us we’re barreling towards--the darker, less sunny side of the already dystopian cyberpunk genre. Solarpunk is the sun that burns away at smoggy futures, the light that reveals what we can have instead, the ideas that lead to actions to secure it. Its hope in a bottle--hope that we can enjoy and add to, a dream that we can help make into a reality. The ideals are chock full of resisting the real-life Eggmans who want to send humanity into a nose-dive of mechanization and energy-burning self-destruction for the sake of short-lived profits and smug ego-trips. 

Is Sonic a strictly Solarpunk series? I wouldn’t necessarily say so. But I think if the themes and terms had existed in 1990, it certainly would have been cited as a bit of an inspiration. Whether the Solarpunk community would have been chill with a corporation citing the term as inspiration is a whole other deal.

Stay tuned for this posts' sequel, where I talk about how I feel my favorite game in the series--Sonic Colors--is Solarpunk.

[fandomsgal]

Okay, so I saw this post by @yourcrumblingsaikiisnotmyproblem and now they got me spiraling into idea town and apologies if nothing makes sense, I am half asleep and writing this on like three hours of sleep but the ideas would not stop flowing through my brain so enjoy the rambling!

Okay, so they find something big that they need to hide from the sages, from everyone, no on can know about this, maybe it has something to do with forbidden knowledge or we could go down the whole reincarnation au route if you want to put that in.

They are both scared, they make many trips to the desert to discuss what they found and how everyone else would react and they both agree to get rid of it and look like they both fell out to trick everyone so that the information cannot be known.

Alhaitham is the one to come up with the fight, though knowing about Kaveh's past promises that they will still be best friends, that nothing can separate them, Alhaitham maybe makes a comment about how they're each others mirror and that's when Kaveh kisses him. Fueled with those feelings, they need to get this right, they have one chance to act the biggest fight the Akademiya will ever see in its history.

They are both so nervous when the day arrives they have to constantly touch each other, reassure each other that nothing between them will change, they are still Kaveh and Alhaitham, two halves if a whole mirror.

So the fight happens, Kaveh is pulling up every inch of drama acting he has seen anywhere, he cries on the spot, he screams at Alhaitham and he rips up the thesis paper before storming out. He hides away during the rest of the day in an area that will one day become the space of the Palace of Alcazarzaray.

Alhaitham finds him, and to keep up the charade, they will have to be apart for a while, maybe Kaveh goes to Fontaine for a few weeks, maybe Alhaitham visits for a week and who knows, maybe those two get spontaneously married.

So years go by, Kaveh builds and makes a reputation, Alhaitham becomes the scribe, they're both wearing matching ringers under their outfits so they don't get lost and missing each other seems to be on their mind, they think they can be seen together without suspicion from the sages, especially Azar, if they have the right motive... so Kaveh us under commission at this time from Dori and he comes up with an idea, he talks with her and they come to an agreement, Kaveh pretends to be broke and in debt to Dori when really he isn't, he's the light of Kshahrewar, he's not broke, but he'll do a couple of free commissions for her after the palace is built (we pretend the withering zone story is part of the cover up that those two discussed) Dori is also the only one to know most of the details about years ago since she needed the context but not what the research was about.

So Kaveh pretends to be broke, gets "drunk" at Lambards and in comes Alhaitham with the next part of the plan, and so that's how in everyone's eyes, two ex friends became "roommates."

They don't reveal they are married until after Alhaitham resigns from acting grand sage and all the new sages are chosen, the reveal causes everyone to question everything about them, and Alhaitham and Kaveh just smile and go about their business, Alhaitham is reading, Kaveh is drinking but avoiding questions and under the table their pinkies are linked together, two halves of a whole mirror rightfully together.

[aita-liveontv]

Hi a few things

-I have been informed that Fight Song was not written by Katy Perry. Oops

EDIT:: mom doesn’t own the house. She doesn’t pay for the house by any means. As long as any of my siblings have been alive, so like 32 years, she’s never had a job— her disability developed in the last 6 years, and I no longer want her to have a job, but if y’all think this is contingent on house ownership, mom explicitly does not have her name on the deed.

I have a dad(58M) who is an inactive player in this situation. He works a demanding overnight job and often sleeps through the day until it’s time to leave again. When he doesn’t have work, he acquiesces to mom because he wants to keep the house peaceful… even though she’s the one most likely to disturb the peace.

To the people in the thread who thought my siblings have 25+ genders between us: you’re my favorite people here. I’m not certain we have that much gender, especially because I’d skew the average since the number of gender I have is none.

Now for the question being asked the loudest;

Why not get your own TV?

Generally speaking, I live paycheck to paycheck. Summer is kind to me because I work at a tourist hotspot so sometimes I can afford a video game. Note: I haven’t bought a console since 2017.

I never said all three of us have jobs. I just said I have a job. One doesn’t have a job because of disability and since writing this ask, the other (also unemployed due to disability) sibling had an abrupt change of address (in another country, I cannot visit at the drop of a hat). As the only one with a steady income, buying a TV would just be too hard a hit when I’m worried about gas and food.

Additionally: it is very much an issue of space. None of our rooms can accommodate more than one person for long and the ventilation in our rooms mysteriously sucks so bad. It isn’t a comfortable time and not really an enjoyable time either.

Now the real reason I sent this ask is because I wanted to see if my mother was justified when this issue hit its peak. I wasn’t sure about including the full story because it’s a long one and I was scared I wouldn’t be believed, but here we go.

Consider this the official expansion of AITA for wanting to use the TV?

In February of last year, she kicked me out of the house over this.

In the week prior to this incident, I was using the TV to distract my siblings from the death of a pet. My mother said nothing during this time other than “Think you’ll be done at 5?” and we’re like yeah that’s cool

One day she changes her tune and tells me to stop asking for the TV because I used it for the past 4 day (4 hours at a time, but to her this constituted “all day”.) I didn’t want my siblings to go back to their room because the grief hit them hard. I was doing this to take their minds off that long enough that they’d have an appetite.

Yes I did tell my mother all that

No, she did not care because she didn’t care about the pet that died and thought we were dragging out the grief (it happened… 4 days ago…).

When I told her I was doing this to take them out of their heads, she started yelling at me and calling me selfish (???). Anything I tried to say was suffocated by her continued yelling. I told her that she was being childish over this.

I step outside the house to catch my breath and cool my head, my mother ran after me (despite her disability) because she made sure I wanted to hear what she said next:

“Don’t come back.”

I should note that I suffer from anxiety and suicidal depression, which she’s always been dismissive of, but she’s aware that I’ve ended up in a psych ward more than once. So to tell her historically suicidal kid to not come home was… it felt really fucking bad.

I stayed with at my older sister’s house during this time (she has since moved to another state, thus I cannot play games at her place if I wanted to.) and I wasn’t stable to go back home until two weeks later. Where she’d revert to her typical MO of pretending like nothing happened and then yelling at me because I’m not reciprocating her buddy/buddy attitude.

This is when my siblings and I started saving TV time until it was past her bedtime (which ranges from 11PM-2:00AM.). Which did a number on us as far as sleep goes (we’d usually give up by midnight).

Since I came back it’s been endless acquiescing to her because if I complain about unfairness, I now know the worst thing she can do to me is make our home feel so hostile that I can’t remain in mentally.

So sometimes I wonder if I’m the problem.

If this all happened because of me. Like I know she can be childish and selfish, but I insisted against her. I knew how hostile she can be but I still said “but hold on—“. I’ve had a lifetime to get used to this sort of song and dance, but I still knowingly take the wrong steps.

So am I the asshole for still asking? Butting heads like this usually just results in making my siblings upset, but I really don’t think I’m asking for that much.

AITA for wanting to use the TV?

I (26, NB) live with my parents (55+, M and F) and siblings (25+ assorted genders). I have a job and I don’t pay rent because it isn’t asked of me. I do pay for all of my own entertainment things like consoles and video games, and I like playing these games on the TV in the living room because my siblings have fun watching me/accepting me being bad at video games be background noise for whatever work they’re currently doing.

My mother does not like it when we use the TV. Ftr, she has control over the TV 16 hours out of the day, but doesn’t really watch anything. She’s not engaged in anything she puts on the TV, really. She’s either on her phone, watching TikToks, in another room doing something else without pausing her show, or just straight up asleep. But if we try to take the TV when she’s not engaged, she yells at us and throws tantrums for being rude to her; even if she lets us use the TV she will spend the entire day making passive aggressive comments at us for using it.

Note: when I say “we” this is because the three of us siblings all count as one unit even if we aren’t all engaged in what someone else has on the TV.

What’s weird is how hard we need to push to use the TV for maybe 2 hours/give a condition where she can ask us to stop when she wants a turn, and she can openly ask or give us a heads up like “can I have the TV in 30 minutes?”.

Sometimes we also ask her to turn the volume on her phone down/use her airpods because we’ll watch shows with tense scenes or get to climactic points in a game and our experience can be ruined if a tiktok starts blasting katy perry’s fight song (true story; completely ruined the true pacifist ending of undertale). She gets really mad about this, but we never play things at loud volumes on our phones (because we are scared at being yelled at) when she is ‘watching’ something.

So why might I be the AH? Well… she has a mobility disability and can’t really go upstairs to her room to do something else or go outside for a walk or anything, so I understand that this is basically the only thing she has in the way of a hobby… (I mean if you can really call binge watching hallmark movies a hobby.)

TLDR; mobility disabled mother controls the TV in the house’s only common area for 16 hours out of the day but doesn’t really have other means of engagement. AITA for wanting to use the TV to play games or watch shows with my siblings?

Additional info: we try to do things when she goes upstairs, but that tends to be near midnight on many days, so we don’t get to do much.

Sometimes she engages in what we’re doing, sometimes asking questions or giving commentary when I’m being bad at video games. She’ll even laugh and joke about it sometimes.

She is not interested in watching shows as a family and has no interest in trying any video games.

What are these acronyms?

[dewitty1]

This gif is from The Pricess Bride. A fantastic movie if you haven't seen it ;)

Fic Recs Wrap Up - January 2022

Endowment by dicta_contrion @dictacontrion

Potter has got under my skin for far too long, in far too many ways. I fully intend to return the favour. Rec Post

What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym @gyzym

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought. Rec Post, Fic Claim (with art!!!) by @thistleraven, Chap 11 (spoilers) art by @thistleraven, art by @prhynefisher

Mixed Drinks and Crossed Wires by korlaena @korlaena

Draco is a handsy drunk. Harry is okay with it, really. They’re friends, so it doesn’t mean anything. Rec Post

The Four Doors by fluxweed @fluxweeed

It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy. Rec Post

To Serve Malfoy by VivacissimoVoce

Harry loses a wager with Draco, which means he must spend the summer at Malfoy Manor as Draco’s personal servant. Rec Post

Another Heart Whispers Back by slytherco @slytherco

At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates. “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ― Plato

In which Harry learns that some things are worth waiting for, that looking and seeing are two very different things, and that his heart’s song has been heard a long time ago. Rec Post

And I Will Be Your Shield, My Love by Viridescence

“Why did you step in front of a killing curse for me, Malfoy?” Harry asked.

“I just didn’t want you to die,” Malfoy said. “And that’s all that is really important.” Rec Post

Lockdown Lurgy by xanthippe74 @xanthippe74

When a dangerous virus comes to Britain, the Ministry orders a mandatory lockdown to control its spread. If Harry wants to spend the next two weeks with Teddy, he’s going to have to share Andromeda’s guest room with none other than Draco Malfoy, England’s Number One Prat. Andromeda’s collection of romance novels might save Harry from boredom, but nothing can make living with Malfoy bearable… until Harry has the inexplicable impulse to kiss him. Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

The Truth About Love by waterwings @amywaterwings

In which Draco is a high-powered magical divorce lawyer and Harry is the Unspeakable assigned to seduce him. It goes as well as one might expect.

"I'll Figure It Out." by Vukovich @vukovich

For the prompt: "Don't let your mouth get you into something that your ass can't handle."

Harry's mouth repeatedly gets him into situations his arse can't handle.

Then, he finds himself in a situation his arse can handle better than his mouth.

Beds, Knobs, and Broomsticks by fencer_x @fencer-x

A long-term mission to the Baltics that will take him far away from London sounds like the perfect time to cash in the embarrassing 'Butler in the Buff' coupon Harry received as a birthday gag gift—until Harry winds up injured in the field and sent home to recover three days into the mission, obliging him to endure one full month of inappropriate attentions from horny housekeeper Draco Malfoy.

Burning Down the House by peachpety @peachpety

Harry is happy as editor-in-chief of The Quibbler. From planning to printing, design to deadlines, he enjoys being in the hot seat. And after vanquishing Voldemort, managing fires is an easy part of the job. Until his scorching crush on his impeccably dressed fashion editor flares out of control, and he's forced to face actual fires.

1,000 Points From Gryffindor by blithelybonny

The story of how Harry Potter single-handedly lost Gryffindor the House Cup while attempting to have a “normal” year at Hogwarts. Featuring Harry's suspicious nature turned up to eleven again, a new DADA teacher who is so not here for Harry’s fame, multiple detentions, Slytherins being sneaky, Hufflepuffs being sneakier, and the mystery of Draco Malfoy's hoodie because seriously Hermione who gave that to him and is he wearing it just to torment me? This is ridiculous!

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡

I hope you enjoy these as much as I have! Thanks, as always, for being here! ( ᵕ́ૢ‧̮ᵕ̀ૢ)‧̊·*

Happy reading, y’all!

xoxo Carey  (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?  Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, @hoebii​ and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

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“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick’s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.”  As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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[watchmegetobsessed]

Hey Angel - Harry Styles

a/n: since i had so much time on my hand at work lately (not anymore unfortunately) i used it wisely and cooked up this PA themed fic bc i absolutely love this trope. it’s lengthy and kinda emotional? kinda, lol. hope you’ll like it and as always, feedback is much appreciated!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.5k

masterlist

Harry likes to pretend he is tall enough to comfortably rest his chin on the top of your head when he stands behind you, but that’s not true. He has to push himself a little to his tippy toes and push you down at the same time to fit his chin above you, his arms weighing down on your shoulders. You stopped arguing him that you need to push your hips forward when he does this so you don’t carry his whole weight.

“Tha’s rude, you do not have to do tha’!” he defended himself every time you brought up, so you just stopped.

Now as you watch the game of air hockey unfold in front of you, a half empty pint in your hand, you don’t even budge when you feel a chiseled chin resting on the top of your head, you push your hips forward without a second thought to shorten your height. You catch a glimpse of a tattooed forearm on your shoulder, Harry’s chest presses against your back gently.

He doesn’t stay in this position too long, it’s making it hard to drink so soon enough, he wraps his left arm around your shoulders, coming to stand next to you, sipping on his tequila on the rocks.

“Hey you,” you smile at him as he gives you a side look, a boyish smirk tugging on his pink lips. “Everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

“You need something? How much have you had to drink?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows, looking down at his glass that was certainly full when you last saw him about ten minutes ago.

“Shush, stop pretending like you’re working,” he waves at your face, his words melting together, definitely thanks to the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“I know I’m not working, I’m just tryna’ be your friend and look out for you.” Bringing your own drink up to your lips, you give him a look, but he just smirks at you playfully.

“Uh-huh, whatever. Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you, H,” you sigh dramatically and it makes him laugh with his head falling back.

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m some spoiled brat celebrity you ‘ave to babysit for your living? And that I always do ridiculous shit so you ‘ave to keep an eye on me at all times?”

You can’t push your smile down at how far this statement is from reality. You just like to tease him about being a typical, asshole rockstar when he is literally your favorite person in the world without a doubt.

“Oh Angel, you can’t fool me,” he cackles, squeezing you to his side before taking another sip from his drink.

“Wouldn’t even try to,” you mumble with an amused smile. “Havin’ fun, birthday boy?” you ask, leaning into his side. You would never admit, but you love how touchy Harry can get sometimes, not really caring about physical boundaries, especially when he drinks. The hugs, the squeezes, the touches, they always make your heart flutter even after knowing him for years.

“I’m havin’ a blast. What about you?”

“What about me? It’s not my birthday,” you chuckle shortly.

“So what? I can’t make sure you’re enjoying your night?” he frowns at you dramatically that just makes you laugh.

“I’m having a great night. It’s just that my boss keeps coming after me even though I’m supposed to be off the clock.”

You peek up at him to see the grin on his face at your teasing. The dynamic between the two of you has been like this since day one. The constant bickering and teasing is what really brought the two of you close, you are so similar, it’s like you can see a male version of yourself when you look at him.

“Tell the dude to fuck off,” he mumbles into his drink and you bump your hip against him, but he just holds you tight to his side as an answer.

Soon enough, Harry joins the game and you watch him play from the side, obviously cheering on his opponent to annoy him, earning some pretty dirty looks from him whenever they score against him and you let out a “woho!” in victory.

“Y’know, it’s not too nice to cheer against the birthday boy, is it?” he calls you out when the table is taken by someone else and he joins you at the side again.

“Am I not allowed to choose who I want to cheer to?” you ask with a faked puzzled look and he presses his lips into a thin line, glaring down at you intently.

“Don’t test me, Angel,” he grumbles into your ear before walking off to join his friends who came out to celebrate with him today.

It’s a pretty lowkey celebration, since he is still in the middle of filming Don’t Worry Darling, so he couldn’t really travel far from the set, but some of his dearest friends were able to come here and celebrate with him and his cast members.

You stand at the bar and your eyes find him every time you scan the place, not able to keep your gaze away from him for too long, he just demands the attention. Or at least yours.

You’ve never met anyone like him. When you got the chance to be his personal assistant four years ago at the very beginning of his solo career, you never thought how he’ll move right into your heart and never leave it. Whether you look at him as your boss or your friend, you can’t deny that he changed your life and you’ve learned so much from him, you can only hope he thinks of you somewhat the same. However you always tell yourself: what could you possibly give for The Harry Styles? He has everything in the whole wide world.

Harry catches you staring and he arches a brow at you, abandoning the conversation he has been in for the past minutes, mouthing you “what’s up, Angel”, his accent thick even without hearing his voice.

He’s been calling you Angel for longer than you can remember. When you asked him why the nickname, he said it’s because One Direction’s song Hey Angel was written about you. It was a fat lie, you haven’t met him when the song was written, but his words still tightened your chest, playing with the thought of Harry writing a song about you.

As cheesy and cliché as it is, you fell for him faster than you’d like to admit. You tried to fight it for a while, convince yourself it’s just a silly crush, but you soon had to realize you outgrew that after the first few weeks working with him. How could you not fall for him? He is everything any woman could wish for and he has you wrapped around his fingers, just like he has half the female population, probably.

You shake your head in his way, not sure how to tell him you just got lost in your thoughts about him. In fact, he occupies your mind pretty much all the time, but he doesn’t have to know about that.

He excuses himself from the table and walks up to you, a slow breath leaving your nose as you watch him approach you.

“Tired?” he asks, stopping in front of you, placing his empty glass to the counter.

“Kinda,” you nod.

“Want to head home soon?”

“Don’t worry about me. I can just call a taxi and go home, you don’t have to come.”

“Don’t be silly, we go to the same place, obviously we’re gonna go home together.”

Since filming has started, Harry and you’ve been sharing a nice apartment near the set. It was his idea to rent a place for the two of you, rather than to stay at a hotel. At first you didn’t think it would be a good idea, but of course, he convinced you to live with him for the months while the movie is being filmed. So now you basically live with Harry, share pretty much all your living space with him, except your bedroom.

“But it’s your birthday, stay as long as you want,” you tell him, not wanting to snatch him away from his friends on his big day.

“We’re filming in the afternoon tomorrow, can’t drag the night too long either way,” he shrugs, trying to make you believe it’s really nothing.

No matter how badly you try to convince him to stay, he doesn’t bulge and starts saying goodbye within an hour, calling the two of you a car to take you home. He is clearly tipsy, but not drunk. Once you’re in the car, Harry’s hand finds yours and he pulls you closer in the backseat until your thighs are pressed together. He curls an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to his side, sinking down in the seat. You let your head rest on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness of his body, pressing down any worrying thought that usually makes its way to your mind every time Harry gets a little cozier than the usual.

The rational side of your brain knows you should be keeping some distance from him for the sake of your own sanity and emotional health, but you just can’t. Denying these little moments from yourself would be like pure torture and your heart can’t take that for sure.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, his nose nuzzling into your hair and you just shrug your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you mumble your lie.

“Liar, I can hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours,” he grins down at you as your eyes lock for a moment. Thank God for the darkness in the car, because you can feel your cheeks heating up. The last thing you need is for Harry to see how nervous he can make you feel with just a simple compliment.

“Stop being nosy, you don’t have to know everything all the time.” You poke his side with your elbow, it makes him jump a little before he snuggles back to your side.

“That’s not true, you know I’m entitled to hold every knowledge in the world.” He tries to hide his smirk, but he fails miserably and you just laugh at him with your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Harry Styles, you are something else,” you sigh shaking your head at him.

Arriving home Harry keeps an arm around you as you walk up to the front door, fishing your keys out of your bag since you’d bet Harry didn’t bring his. There’s a chance he hasn’t even used his copy since you’ve been here, he knows you always have yours and you haven’t really left without each other so far, always staying around the other.

“Want to shower first?” he hums, walking inside, his arm leaving your shoulders and though you feel lighter without the extra weight, you wish it was still there.

“Go for it, I’m gonna clean up the mess I made when I got ready earlier,” you tell him, heading into your bedroom where the floor is littered with half your wardrobe from earlier, when you were trying to figure out what to wear for the little outing.

Harry disappears in the shared bathroom and a moment later you hear the water running. You go around your room, picking up the dresses you voted against, placing them back into the wardrobe and then you put away your makeup you left on your bed in your hurry.

“Bathroom is yours!” Harry calls out just when you finish, you hear his bedroom door open and close so you grab a clean oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts before occupying the bathroom.

The warm shower feels nice, it’s been a long day since you started on set, Harry had a few scenes to film before you could leave in the afternoon. You wash away the day, scrub your makeup off and then take off the rest with your wipes once you’re out. You brush your hair and use some lotion for your dry skin before getting dressed and leaving the steamy bathroom.

Padding down the short hallway you hear nothing coming from Harry’s bedroom and you wonder if he’s already asleep, but once you step inside your room you see that he is cozied up on your bed, your covers pulled up to his naked chest, a pillow tucked under his head as he scrolls through his phone so shamelessly, as if it was his own room.

“Did you take the wrong turn in the hallway?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as you throw your dirty clothes to your temporary hamper, which is basically your emptied out suitcase.

“Nope,” he grins smugly, you have to roll your eyes at him. He locks his phone, dropping it to the side table, watching you move around, getting ready for bed and his eyes on your figure feel like they’re burning down on your skin.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” you comment not even looking at him, but you just know he is still staring at you. Grabbing a hairtie from the little dresses in the corner of your room you reach back to loosely braid your hair, but his voice stops you.

“Wait,” he pleads and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “Can I do it?”

You give him a confused look as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, his green eyes are glimmering from the tiredness and the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“You want to braid my hair?”

“Yeah,” he nods. You hesitate for a moment but join him on the bed at last, turning your back against him, giving him full control over your hair.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers raking through your strands. He is so gentle and careful as you feel him section your hair off to three parts.

“Didn’t know you can braid,” you tell him, eyes fixated on the sheets in front of you.

“Gemma taught me, but I’m not the best at it.”

“So I’ll look atrocious?” you tease him smiling to yourself. He pokes the back of your neck with his fingers before continuing his work.

“You could never look atrocious, even if you tried.”

“And you are such a flirt,” you sigh. Over the years you’ve gotten used to his flirty act, it’s just who he is and though in the beginning your breath always got caught in your throat when he said something cheesy, now you just brush it off, only thinking about his words when you are alone in the night, struggling to fall asleep because you’re once again, thinking about him.

“M’telling the truth. Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

“Mmm,” you hum. He has told you that you looked pretty when the two of you left and he saw you walk out of your room in your black skinny jeans and flowy sheer top on, your hair loosely curled, but you didn’t really know what to say, so you just smiled at him and it’s the same now. You’re not the best at taking compliments.

“You really did. You always are.”

“And once again, you are such a flirt.”

“Complimenting a pretty woman is being a flirt?” he asks pretending to be offended as he carefully works on your hair and you wish you could see his focused face as he is trying to keep track of the sections between his fingers. At a lack of a witty comeback, you just shrug your shoulders, fumbling with your fingers on your lap.

You both fall silent as he concentrates on your hair and you manage to stop thinking, just focus on how his fingers keep brushing against your back every time he crosses two sections over each other.

“Hairtie, please,” he asks, his hand appearing next to you with his palm upwards. You place it in his hand and he finishes up his masterpiece. “There, it didn’t turn out as bad as I thought,” he comments once he is done. Reaching back you run your fingers over the braid and it feels good, he did a great job.

“Thanks,” you smile at him shyly, turning around. He leans back, making himself comfortable once again and you arch an eyebrow at him. “Need me to walk you back to your room, sir?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine here,” he grins smugly, tugging his arm behind his head as he takes up the right side of the bed.

“You’re planning to sleep here?”

“Please, don’t make me sleep alone on my birthday!” he pouts, giving you those damned puppy eyes. How could you ever say no to him?

“You better not push me off the bed in your sleep,” you mumble before getting under the covers.

You turn off the bedside lamp and the two of you start moving around, finding a comfortable pose to sleep in and you end up facing each other on your sides, Harry’s face squished into the pillow as his eyes are roaming over the hand you have laid between your faces.

His fingers start to inch towards yours until he hooks his pinky with yours, the touch sending a warm feeling down your spine.

“I hate sleeping alone,” he mumbles into the semi-darkness.

“Why?”

“Don’t you like it when there’s someone next to you? When you wake up and you’re not alone?”

“I like it, but I don’t hate sleeping alone either,” you tell him as your eyes fall to your linked pinky fingers. “Why do you hate it? You have the bed all to yourself, and there’s no chance of waking up to someone snoring or talking in their sleep.”

He huffs out a laugh as he buries his head deeper into the pillow.

“It makes me feel lonely. Which is ridiculous, because I’m never alone.”

“But lonely and alone are not the same, so it’s not ridiculous. You can feel lonely when you’re not alone.”

“I know,” he nods, his eyes watching your linked fingers intently, before he moves his hand so it’s now covering yours, his warm palm wrapping around your much smaller hand. “I’m never lonely with you, though.”

“So… you are only lonely when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom, because we basically spend every moment of the day together.” You smirk at him and see his dimple form in his cheek as he smiles at you nodding.

“That’s right. We are like glued together.”

“How aren’t we sick of each other already?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“You sure about that?” You raise your eyebrows at him with an amused smile, he is too sure about that answer.

“One hundred percent. You’re my favorite person.”

“Is that what you tell everyone?”

He gives you a look, but you just chuckle, sinking further into your pillow. His fingers start playing with your hand as he draws a deep breath.

“I only tell this to m’ mum and Gemma. No one else.”

Your heart starts racing at the thought of him seeing you on the same level as his closest family. You know how much his mum and sister mean to him, but you never thought you are anywhere near them in his eyes.

“You’re my favorite person too,” you whisper as your eyes meet over your joined hands. He smiles at you warmly, his floppy curls falling into his forehead and you want to run your fingers through them, feel how soft they are under your touch. Harry scoots closer, your faces only a few inches away from each other as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

For a moment you just watch him, thinking how good it feels to have him in your bed. How amazing it is to end the day with him so close to you. You wish all days would end like this, you wouldn’t have another bad day with him next to you.

Lying there and watching him slowly fall asleep, his hand still on yours, the bitter thought eats itself into your mind that he is only here because he feels lonely and wanted to be close to someone, not you particularly. And though you’re glad it’s you he ended up next to, you try not to get too accustomed to the feeling, because you’re just a temporary fix to his loneliness.

The door to Harry’s trailer opens and he walks in wearing his blue dress pants and crispy white dress shirt, fumbling with the top buttons to undo them. You glance up at him from your laptop where you’ve been working on his schedule for the upcoming weeks while he was filming.

“Hey, how did it go?” you ask as he places his water bottle to the vanity and then sits in the chair he spends his mornings in while his hair is being styled and tattoos are covered.

“Good. Messed up only a few times. Whacha’ working on?”

“Just your schedule, I’ll email it to you when I’m done, though you never check it.”

“Hey, I do check it! I like your color coding. I just suck at using it and you’re always here to remind me of the important stuff.”

You roll your eyes, continuing to type away on your keyboard as he moves around, having a snack and texting back people.

“Florence is coming over for a little after we’re done. We can order something,” he speaks up grabbing your attention again.

“Cool,” you nod with a small smile. “Is she staying the night?”

“No, we just thought it would be nice to hang out a little without dressed like this,” he chuckles looking down at himself.

“What’s wrong with Jack’s clothes? You look neat.”

“Do I?” he cocks an eyebrow cheekily, placing his hands to his hips as he looks down at you.

“Yeah. It’s a nice change after all the grandpa clothes,” you tease him and he gasps pretending to be offended at your words, though you both know you have nothing against his style. In fact, you love how he just wears whatever he wants, not caring what others would think.

“Watch your mouth or you can’t wear my bode jacket again,” he warns you holding up his pointing finger, shaking it at you, but you just chuckle at him, finishing up what you’ve been working on before shutting the laptop down.

“How long until you’re done?”

“Just a few more scenes. I think we can leave in about two hours.”

“Alright.”

“You done working?”

“Mhm, for now.”

“Come and watch the filming. You’re always so hidden in here.”

“Because I always have work to do,” you point out, putting the laptop to the side from your lap.

“Yeah, but you’re done now, so come out and watch me be the next Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smugly tells you, and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so humble, H. Is something that comes with the age?” you tease him standing up from the small sofa, grabbing your phone from the table.

“You’ll find out in a year,” he smirks back as you follow him out of the trailer, back to the set.

Later that day you, Florence and Harry are chilling back at your apartment, munching on the pizza you ordered, watching some documentary on Netflix, just enjoying a lazy evening. You’ve become quite close with Florence, her personality is a lot like yours so you got along well from the beginning, the three of you often do things together outside of set.

You and Harry are sharing the couch while Florence is curled up on the loveseat. The temperature at the apartment is always nice, but you often catch yourself feeling a little cold in the evening, but it has more to do with the tiredness rather than with the heating of the place. When you pull your legs underneath you to warm your feet, Harry notices the action and knows right away that you’re starting to feel cold as always. Reaching down he grabs a blanket from the basket next to the couch and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Come ‘ere,” he mumbles, draping the blanket over the two of you. You shuffle closer to him, making yourself comfortable at his side as he makes sure you’re fully tugged in. Then he leaves an arm around you, his fingers gently grazing your shoulder as he turns his attention back at the movie.

Glancing over at Florence you see the puzzled look on her, but you ignore it biting into your bottom lip, turning back to watch the movie though you’re having a hard time focusing. All you can think about is Harry’s touch on you.

It’s almost midnight when Florence calls herself a taxi. Harry picks up the glasses you used and volunteers to wash them, leaving you and Florence alone in the living room.

“So, what’s up with you and Harry?” she questions right away without beating around the bush.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you two has always been close, but now… it seems all too… couple-like.” She narrows her eyes at you, hands on her hips, looking like a mother questioning her daughter.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not,” she scoffs. Then you pretend to be busy with folding the blanket, but you can feel her intent stare on you before she speaks up again. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What?” you huff with a not too Oscar-worthy expression on your face that was supposed to hide the panic in you. “Well of course I like him, he is my friend and boss.”

“But not just like that. You like like him.”

“Florence,” you sigh, just when Harry walks out of the kitchen, oblivious to the conversation that he just interrupted.

“You sure you don’t want to spend the night?” he politely asks her, but she just shakes her head.

“I’m not really up for spending the night on the couch.”

“You wouldn’t have to, you can sleep in my bed,” he simply offers and something is telling you he shouldn’t open his mouth again.

“You’re not taking the couch because of me.”

“I wouldn’t, I usually sleep at Y/N’s,” he states as if it was nothing, but you instantly freeze.

Yes, ever since his birthday he has spent way more nights in your bed than in his own, always raving to you how well he can sleep when you’re next to him and you couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling lonely, so you’ve been letting him occupy half of your bed through the nights. He usually holds your hand falling asleep and then you wake up tangled together, sometimes he is cuddling you from behind, other times you’re the one curled up to his side. He treats it so casually, like it really is nothing, he just always goes on his day when you wake up so you decided to not make it into a big deal either.

Florence gives you a wide eyed look that you try hard to ignore, while Harry is so oblivious to what he just caused with his statement.

“I uhh—thanks but I’m fine going home. Besides, I think my car is already here. See you guys on set tomorrow. Y/N?” she calls out walking towards the front door.

“Hm?”

“We’ll talk later,” she tells you and it’s a strong message that she won’t just leave it at that.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you nod awkwardly, waving her goodbye.

You and Harry clean up together and as always, he is the first one to use the bathroom and by the time you’re done, he is in your bed, waiting for you to join him. You don’t comment on his presence anymore, part of you afraid he would stop spending the night in your bed and you definitely don’t want that. Not much is left from filming, meaning that soon you are forced to go home where you and Harry do not live at the same place so you’re gonna have to sleep alone, like you did before. Only now you are way too hooked on the feeling of having him in your bed, even if it’s not in the way you truly want, it’s better than nothing.

The moment you get under the sheets, Harry reaches out and pulls you to his side. He hasn’t done this often when you went to sleep, only sneaking some small touches, but you don’t mind him being a little extra clingy.

“Filming is almost over,” you mumble into his chest, your hand lazily resting where his ribcage ends in his chest.

“Mhm.” There’s a short silence before he speaks up again. “What about it, Angel?”

“It’s just that it’s going to be weird going home. I got used to living here.” It’s your way saying that you’re gonna miss having him around all the time, but you’re not sure if he understands the hint. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

“You like cramped together with me?” he chuckles lowly.

“Was kinda nice,” you smile.

“Remember how you threatened me to throw my shit out if I leave my dirty clothes on the floor?”

“I do,” you smirk, thinking back to the conversation where you agreed to live with him while he is filming. “Didn’t find any clothes on the floor, so you get an A for that.”

“Wow, was this… a compliment?”

“Shut up, I always compliment you!” you laugh smacking his chest gently.

“Oh, no. You don’t compliment, you just tell me when I managed not to fuck something up,” he corrects you and your cheeks are heating up about how well he knows you.

“Those are compliments in my book, don’t be greedy.”

“M’not. I love how grounded you keep me with treating me like this.”

“Like what?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Like a normal person. With you, I don’t have to be afraid that I earn something because of who I am. You give no shit about my name, you always keep me in check and I appreciate that.”

“Can’t let you have a too big of a head,” you smirk, closing your eyes. He laughs with you, squeezing you a little before you both fall into silence, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

You’ve managed to avoid Florence in the past few days. Her burning look has been making you way too nervous, you know she wants to know more about what’s going on between you and Harry, but truth to be told, you have no idea what to tell her.

Yeah, I’m definitely in love with him and we’ve been sharing a bed for a few weeks because he feels lonely alone at night, so he uses me to ease the feeling while I just let him because as I said, I’m in love with the man.

No, you can’t tell her that.

Now there’s only two days left from filming, meaning that only two more nights to spend with Harry and it’s making you a nervous wreck to think about sleeping alone in your bedroom.

You round the corner in the maze of the trailers after a phone call you had with Jeff when you run out of luck and bump right into Florence.

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. Come have lunch with me in my trailer,” she smiles sweetly, grabbing you by your hand so you can’t escape her this time.

“Oh I wanted to call—“

“Do it later,” she simply cuts you off.

Soon, you find yourself in her trailer as she eats her burger while she eyes you with suspicion.

“So, you and Harry sleep together?”

“Well, not like that. We really just sleep in the same bed.”

“Oh, makes perfect sense, sleeping in the same bed as your boss. Very casual.”

“Don’t make it sound so weird,” you frown at her words. You definitely don’t see Harry as your boss. You do work for him, but it never felt like he stands anywhere above you, the two of you have always been equal even before you became close friends.

“You gotta admit it’s pretty unusual,” she points out and you just look away from her. “So let’s talk about how you’re in love with him.”

“What? I never said that!” you protest, but she just gives you a look that says ‘cut the crap, girl’ and you know there’s no use to try to trick her, she sees right through you. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, I have enough shit on my plate without your judgment.”

“Oh, I’m not judging you. I’m just wondering why you two are not together already.”

You practically snort at her statement, finding it quite absurd and ridiculous.

“What? You two are perfect for each other and I’m pretty sure Harry loves you too.”

“Yeah, as a friend.”

“That’s not how friends act, Y/N. He wouldn’t beg himself into your bed every night if he was just your friend.”

“He is just lonely. He doesn’t need me, just someone to be with him.”

“That’s bullshit,” she scoffs. “You two are just being idiots.” Just as you are about to answer, your phone starts ringing. Harry’s smiley face appears on the screen, making you extremely nervous because of the conversation you are having with Florence.

“Hey,” you breathe out answering the call.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Just, talking with Florence. What’s up?”

“I got an email from Jeff and I have some questions.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Thank you Angel,” he hums before ending the call.

“I gotta go. Please don’t… bring any of this up for Harry,” you ask Florence, heading to the exit.

“You’ve gotta sort your shit out. This is not ideal, Y/N.”

“I know it,” you growl under your breath, leaving the trailer. You chew on your bottom lip nervously as you march back to Harry’s trailer. You feel so confused and anxious about this whole situation and the worst thing is that you have no idea what to do about it. Telling him how you feel seems like a stupid idea, but mostly because you’re terrified of rejection. What if it all meant nothing to him? If you were right and he is just lonely and uses you to help himself, it has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t survive the heartbreak it would give you if he told you he doesn’t see you more than just a friend.

As you walk into his trailer he is sitting on the sofa with his phone in his hands. He glances up at you, a warm smile tugging on his lips as you take a deep breath, feeling very much out of place suddenly. Unfortunately, he immediately senses your discomfort.

“Everything alright, Angel?”

Angel. This nickname could make your knees go weak in a heartbeat and you hate how much effect it has on you. Especially in this state of mind you’re currently in.

“I just…” You shake your head shutting your eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that?” you ask, sounding way more desperate than you intended to. Harry puts his phone aside, looking a little puzzled at your sudden weird act, but he seems more worried for you.

“I, uhh—“

“And don’t tell me it’s because Hey Angel is about me. We didn’t know each other back then.”

You have no idea where this is coming from or why you even questioned him about it all of a sudden, but Florence just totally threw you off with what she just said. Harry stares back at you, probably vigorously looking for the reason why you are acting up now, but luckily, he doesn’t try to turn it into a joke as always.

“I call you Angel, because you remind me of the song. It wasn’t written about you, but the lyrics match up with… you.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“I wish I could be more like you, do you wish you could be more like me?” he quotes the song, not singing the words, simply just talking them as he stares back at you. “I see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed, backseat of my car, in the back of my head,” he continues and you feel your throat doing dry just from the way he softly speaks, standing only a few feet away from you. “I come alive when I hear your voice, it’s a beautiful sound, it’s a beautiful noise.”

You never really gave it another thought, but now that he has told you this, it hit you hard in the chest. You weren’t expecting, especially because those lines are rather meaningful, to you at least.

“I thought of it once not long after we first met and thought calling you Angel would suit you. Do you mind it? I can just… stop calling you that if you don’t like it.”

You shake your head. You never want him to stop calling you that even if it’s not that meaningful for him. If it’s just some game. It’s great to know that something reminded him of you.

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Your voice is small, barely more than just a whisper. It’s a little too much at once. Florence’s words are still stuck in your head, and what he just said has felt like he just gripped your heart even if he doesn’t know.

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to come back from this hazy state of mind.

“So, what about that email?”

“You alright?” Reaching forward he takes your hand and you try not to flinch at his touch, just smile at him nodding.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He squeezes your hand before dropping it and he luckily doesn’t ask any more questions.

 You stay oddly quiet for the rest of the day and Harry surely knows something is wrong, but he respects you enough not to bug you about it any longer. He just stays close to you as much as he can, trying his best to take your mind off of whatever keeps you occupied.

On the way home you and Harry drop by a supermarket, buy some quick dinner, not wanting to stack the fridge when you’re leaving so soon. Then you sit in the living room, eating and watching some random movie that’s on TV. You snuggle to his side on the couch naturally, he doesn’t even have to pull you close this time. The thought of having left only one more night in the apartment makes you want to sue every little moment you have left in this bubble.

Harry makes you have a shower first tonight and when you come out from the bathroom, your bed is already nicely made, inviting you warmly. He is quick to finish with his shower and joins you in bed barely five minutes later. You move towards each other instantly, his arms curling around your form soothingly as you make yourself comfortable, melted into his embrace. You feel his lips pressing against your forehead and you almost start crying at the small action.

“Angel, I don’t know what has upset you, but I’m here for you, alright? You’re not alone,” he murmurs softly.

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I would do anything for you, just like you do so much for me. You’ve got me.”

I wish, you think to yourself. You have him, but not the way you’ve been desiring. His hand moves to cup your face as he lifts your head so you are looking into his eyes in the darkened room, but there’s enough light coming through the window that you see his features. He runs his thumb across your cheek, gently caressing your skin and everywhere he touches you, it feels like your body is in flames. This something has been building up inside you and now you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to control yourself. And just as you think about how you really should put some distance between the two of you so you won’t regret it later, the unexpected happens.

Harry pulls you up just enough so when he moves his head he is able to place his lips on yours, kissing you out of the blue. His lips feel so soft, so fitting on your mouth, you let out a whimper when he goes further than just a gentle kiss, taking your bottom lip between his properly. It’s an out of world experience, you’ve imagined it so many times, but you never thought it would actually happen and now that it is very much happening, your whole mind goes blank and for a split second… everything feels right. You kiss him back with fever and with each passing moment the kiss grows more passionate and way hungrier than how it started. Harry’s arm tightens around you, almost pulling you on top of him and you can’t make yourself stop, not that you want to.

With a little force, Harry pushes the two of you around so now you’re lying on the mattress and he holds himself up above you, his lips never disconnecting from yours. He licks into your mouth, pulling and tugging on your lips, making your whole body go weak just for him.

But then, as if reality hit you in the head, you realize what’s happening.

“Harry,” you gasp pulling back, gasping for air. “This—We…”

“Angel, let me take care of you. Please,” he begs out of breath.

“What…”

“I want to make you feel good. I want to take care of you, please let me.” He sounds so desperate, like he would do anything for this and you are not strong enough to deny it from him.

It’s just his pity. He’s been using you for his needs, now he wants to give some back, it’s nothing more, you think to yourself. It can’t be more.

You lack the willpower to make a rational decision, so as you stare up into his eyes that appear so dark due to the lack of proper lighting, you just nod before he leans down and kisses you again.

He holds himself up on one arm while his free hand wanders down your body, touching you at places you have never felt him before. He palms your left breast, squeezing it gently and it makes you moan into his mouth before his hand moves down the curve of your waist until it reaches your sleeping shorts. Your body is burning for him and you can’t stop it from reacting to everything he does. You buckle your hips up when you feel his fingers gently graze along your pubic bone, even though you’re still fully clothed.

“What do you want me to do, Angel? I’ll do anything you want me to,” he pants between kisses as his hand moves to cup your heated core, making you moan again from the sensation of his touch there.

“I need you,” is all you manage to get out.

“I’m right here. You got me. What do you want me to do? Please, tell me, Angel,” he whines, forehead pressed against yours and his hips fall, pressing against your thigh, making you realize how excited he has gotten. His erection is hard under the fabric of his boxers, almost aching to be freed. There’s no way you can take any teasing or a long foreplay. You need him inside you now before you burst.

“Harry, I need you inside me. Please,” you whimper, almost cry, before he kisses you again, hard and demanding as he simply pushes your shorts down, revealing your naked sex since you don’t wear any underwear to bed. You grab the waistband of his boxers too and push it down until he can wiggle his legs out of them, leaving him completely naked in your bed while you still have a top covering your upper body, however he is quick to change that. He grabs the hem and starts pulling it off, your hands helping him so a few moments later you’re completely naked underneath him.

“Fuck, Angel,” he breathes out, his perfect, pink lips attacking the side of your throat, kissing and nibbling on the skin, going down to your breasts, giving the same amount of attention to both while you turn into jelly under his touch. lacing your fingers through his hair you cry out his name as you can feel him leaving a mark on your left breast, his tongue swirling against the spot he just completely destroyed before he brings himself back up so he can kiss you again and again with so much hunger, it’s hard to tell where you end and where he starts. Everything melts together and you’re such a mess in every possible way.

His hand gently reaches down between your legs and parts your shaking thighs before he cups you drenched pussy, his middle finger sliding between your folds, a shameless moan slipping from your mouth, right into his as your lips are still attached.

“So wet, I can’t wait to make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Harry, just… please,” you pant, surely feeling yourself lose the last bits of your nerves.

“D’you have a condom?” he asks, head lifting up a bit so he can look into your eyes.

“I-In my, um, the makeup bag,” you try to explain gesturing towards your dresser where your makeup bag sits on top, two condoms somewhere inside it. Harry pecks your lips before pulling away from you, the lack of his weight on top of you making you shiver.

He digs into the bag until he finds what he’s been looking for, tearing the packaging open with his teeth and he rolls it on while he walks back, not wasting another moment. You cling onto him like a koala bear once he is back in bed, his massive body covering you again.

“Just tell me how you like it, I’ll do anything,” he mumbles against your shivering lips as he pushes the head in first, stopping for a second before the rest of his cock buries inside you, completely taking your breath away. He is bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, filling up every inch of you, your walls stretching around him as he stills once he is all the way inside you.

This is it. This is the moment you’ve imagined oh so many times, feeling him the closest possible, his cock buried inside you, his cheek pressed against yours as he holds himself up on top of you. Years of yearning and endless nights when you imagined your hand was his… and now it’s your reality. And though you know it’s gonna change everything, you can’t tell yourself to stop.

Harry lifts his head, pecking your lips gently, calling you Angel over and over again as he starts moving, the friction between your legs growing with each thrust. He fits inside you so well, you won’t be able to enjoy sex with anyone else now that you’ve experienced it with Harry. All of a sudden, he has become the epitome of your whole life.

“Tell me what you want, Angel. Do you want me to go slow or fast? Tell me how to make you feel good.” His lips brush against yours with each word while you’re just trying to catch your breath, fingers digging into his back, the euphoria building up inside you gradually.

“A little faster,” you breathe out, speaking feels like a hard task at the moment. Harry picks his pace up, finding just the right rhythm that makes you wrap your legs around his waist so he can go even deeper with each thrust he makes.

“Look at me, Angel. Let me see your eyes,” he begs, his hand cupping your cheek. He runs his thumb along the line of your lower lip before he takes it between his lips, tugging on it gently, kissing you like you’re his last breath on Earth. He is devouring you, body melts together with yours, all your senses are strictly focused on him. He is all you see, hear, feel and taste.

Your gaze meets his and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole entire world, it makes your eyes tear up. You want it to be true, you want it to be reality, you want it to be more than just about needs and satisfaction, but it’s not and your consciousness is not letting you believe otherwise.

“Oh Angel,” he softly hums, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye and ran down the side of your face. Keeping up his rhythm he kisses along your jawline, your cheek, your lips, the side of your face, the bridge of your nose, everywhere he can before returning to your lips with a hungry, passion filled kiss.

“Harry…” you whimper, holding your thighs tighter around his waist as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Let it go for me, Angel. I wanna see you feel good, cum for me,” he tells you, eyes never leaving yours as you are ready to burst underneath him.

“Harry, I-I need you!” The words fall from your lips as a desperate beg, arms wrapping around his torso tight, as if he could disappear from your embrace any moment.

“I’m right here, Angel. Right here,” he soothes you, kissing your lips sweetly as proof that he is not just a trick your mind is playing on you. “Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes!” you pant, losing control over your body and all your senses. It’s gonna be intense, you can tell and it hasn’t even started yet, you just know it’ll shake you to the core.

“Good girl. Let me make you feel good.” “So good,” you breathe out before Harry occupies your lips with his once again.

It doesn’t take long. He keeps thrusting in the perfect angle and it throws you right over the edge. Harry demands you look him in the eyes when your orgasm wash you over and the intensity of it all almost makes you cry again. You burst, lose yourself under him, screaming his name as if you were praying to all higher forces. In a way, you are, because for a moment you really think you completely vanish from this world.

Harry follows you just a few more thrusts later, falling out of his rhythm as he grunts and moans your name, face buried into the crook of your neck while you tug on his hair, the feeling of his soft locks between your fingers is like pure heaven.

He stills, but stays inside you as he looks up, his eyes filled with satisfaction and contentment as he cups your face again, kissing you long, taking his time with you.

As you come off your high and the clouds of euphoria clears off, reality sets in more painfully than ever. Your limbs are paralyzed and you feel like you are outside your own body, just watching everything happen as if you were a third person in the room. Harry rolls to the side, chest heaving wildly as he is trying to regulate himself. Once he is able to breathe without panting, he pecks your shoulder gently and makes a quick round to the bathroom. You hear water running and then his feet padding on the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to move, you just lie there, completely drained out. It doesn’t change even when Harry gently cleans you off with a damp washing cloth, throwing it to the side to take care of it in the morning. He pulls the covers over the two of you and scoops you into his arms. You manage to bring your arm up to his chest as your head rests on his shoulder. His fingers are dancing up and down your arm, his steady breathing keeping your overcrowded head grounded. And then… he starts singing so softly, it’s almost just a whisper.

“Hey Angel, oh, I wish I could be more like you. Do you wish you could be more like me?”

Your eyes shut close, the damn tears flooding again, but you keep your sobs drowned in your throat. Instead you force yourself to sleep and hope you live to see the morning, because you feel like your heart is about to give up on you.

 When you wake up, you genuinely feel like you’ve drunk through last night and now have the worst hangover. It’s like you’ve been hit on the head with a chair. You slowly come to your senses and realize that you’re completely naked in bed and there’s a body curled to your side, equally naked.

The shock sets in first because you realize, once again, that what happened last night wasn’t just a fever dream, it actually happened. And then you basically jump out of bed when you look at the small digital clock on the bedside and see that the two of you have ten minutes to leave if you don’t want to be late to the last day of filming.

“Harry! Harry get up!” you smack him, kicking the covers off and grabbing your top and shorts from the floor, quickly putting them on. The man in talk growls, just rolling to his back without even opening his eyes. “Harry damn it! We have ten minutes or you’ll be late!” you snap at him and it somewhat wakes him up. With furrowed eyebrows at puckered lips, he lifts his head up and looks around.

Those lips were kissing you last night.

“What?” he mumbles in confusion.

“We overslept, get up. We have… eight minutes left.”

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, finally getting out of bed, reaching for his boxers.

It’s a shitshow as the two of you try to get ready on time and though you are running just a few minutes late, the driver of the taxi manages to speed down the streets fast enough that you arrive to set just in time.

During the whole ride, you feel Harry’s burning eyes on you, but thank God, you get a call from Jeffrey the moment you get into the car and it lasts the whole ride so you don’t have to talk with him about what happened last night.

“Y/N,” he tries when you’re still on the phone and he is already done with hair and makeup, heading to set to start filming.

“What?” you mouth at him.

“Can we talk later?”

“I’m busy. Go, I’m sure they are waiting for you,” you whisper to him and he looks so disappointed, but he nods and walks away. Your heart breaks as you lower the phone. You have been out of the call for some time, just didn’t want to talk to him.

Quite frankly, you’re not ready to talk to him about what happened last night. You don’t want to hear him say that he was just trying to help you out last night, that it wasn’t anything serious, just some messing around. It was just two people trying not to feel lonely.

Walking back into his trailer you can feel your chest tightening, a sharp pain shooting right into your heart the more you think about him. It was a mistake, you shouldn’t have done it because you are the one with the feelings and now you are the one struggling with the consequences of your little get together.

The more you think about it, the worse it gets and you feel like you’re about to suffocate. You need to get out of here, there’s no way you can face him now.

It all happens so fast. Before you can even second guess your decision, you’re on your way back to the apartment to pack all your stuff and get on the first flight back home. You need to put distance between you and him, spending one more night in the same apartment would make you go nuts. So while Harry is filming, completely oblivious to what you’re doing, you pack up your room as fast as possible and head to the airport to hop on the plane that leaves at four pm.

With a racing heart you check all your baggage in and make it through security when Harry first calls you. At first, you want to ignore it, but then you find yourself swiping your thumb across the screen.

“Hey,” you shortly greet him.

“Hey, where are you? Have been looking for you everywhere.” “I um… I’m at the airport,” you answer and the silence on the other end is deafening for a moment.

“You are at the what?” he then snaps.

“I had a, um, kind of emergency, so I’m heading back home now. Sorry, I would have called you, but didn’t know when you’d be off set.”

“You fucking packed and left already? You’re really at the airport?” He is fuming, Raging. You can tell he is pacing in the trailer, vigorously running his fingers through his hair, ruining it without a care. You almost feel guilty, but then again, you just know facing him now would break you. You’ll get back to him when you’ve pulled your shit together.

“I am, calm down, alright? Not a big deal.” “You just left on our last day here without a fucking word! And when am I seeing you again?”

“I, uhh—I need to be home for a while, but you’ll be fine. I’ll stay in touch with you in email and text.”

“Fucking text? Email?” he is barking now. Good thing you are not there because it would be a disaster. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. We-we were supposed to talk. You can’t just fucking disappear like this.”

“We’ll talk, alright?”

“When?”

“Later,” you simply tell him at a loss for a better answer. Hopefully, never, you think to yourself, but don’t say it out loud.

“Okay, you’re not doing this. Don’t you dare get on a plane, I’m going to the airport right now. You’re not leaving.”

“Well, I am and you’re not coming here,” you clap back, but you can already hear him moving around, probably gathering his stuff so he can leave right away.

“Swear to God if you get on that plane, I’m—“ He cuts himself off, no idea what to really say and you just sigh, closing your eyes. People rush by you and as you glance at the big screen you see that your plane is boarding.

“Harry, just… it’ll be better like this, alright? You’ll be fine, I’ll see you… when I see you. Have fun on your last day on set.”

You end the call before he could get another word out and put it on airplane mode right away as you grab your backpack and head to your gate.

Using your time on the plane wisely, you put together a very detailed schedule for Harry so he knows everything about his next few weeks and you can minimize your contact with him. You even set up a bunch of reminders in his calendar so he won’t miss his appointments.

When you set feet on the ground again, you expect the distance between you and Harry to feel comforting and freeing, but it’s the opposite. An ache in your chest is getting heavier as you get yourself a taxi and head home, feeling more alone than ever in your life.

Your home doesn’t feel like a home. Not without that one person who could make any place your home, but you can’t see him right now, not until you learn how to exist around him without the urge to faint.

Going to bed alone is pure torture. Every moment you are waiting to hear Harry shuffling around in the apartment, you miss his little snorts when he is watching the TV, his singing coming from the shower, but most importantly, you miss having him so close to you in bed. Now that you’re lying on your own, your bed feels so cold, it brings you tears as reality sets in. You miss him. You miss him more than anything and you can’t imagine a time when it won’t hurt anymore.

The crying pushes you into a shallow slumber sometime in the middle of the night, however, you’re rudely shaken back to consciousness when you hear someone banging on your door like crazy, pushing the doorbell constantly.

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble with a grimace, pulling a hoodie on as you make your way to the door hazily, probably still half asleep because you open the door without checking who it is through the peephole and you end up staring up at none other than Harry. “What the—What are you doing here?” you breathe out, panic sets in fast and your hands start shaking at the sight of him.

Harry steps inside without invitation and closes the door behind him, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“Y/N, what the fuck were you thinking when you left like that?”

“I-I told you, it was an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency? Because I called your mom and sisters, they all said nothing happened in the family, so what could possibly happen that needed you here immediately?”

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.” Shaking your head you try to step back to put some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t let you, taking a step forward at the same time.

“Well I think we have a lot to talk about after last night, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you shake your head biting into your bottom lip. This wasn’t supposed to happen, why couldn’t he just stay where he was? “How did you even get here so fast?”

“Left as soon as we wrapped.”

“Where are all your stuff?”

“Left everything there, I’ll just go back and pack it up, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that for a girl who genuinely hates any form of working out, you ran pretty fast from you today.”

Any other day you would have laughed at his comparison, but not today. You just stand there, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you try to figure out what to do or say. You were not ready to face him so soon.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask desperately, throwing your hands into the air.

“Tell me what it meant for you,” he calmly answers and you want to shake him. How is he so peaceful?

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m not doing this to myself, okay? I need time, Harry.”

“For what?”

“So I can get myself over this, alright? I need time, I—fuck this,” you growl, feeling the tears flooding your eyes again. Damn it!

“Why the fuck do you want to get yourself over it?”

“Because it obviously didn’t mean the same thing to me as it meant to you!” you snap at him and he raises his eyebrows at you in a way that tells you “you’re stupid”.

“What do you think it meant to me?”

“Probably nothing,” you scoff rolling your eyes, but the anger that bursts from him quickly washes your attitude away.

“Fucking nothing? You think I would get on a fucking plane first thing after filming for ten hours straight just to come after you? You think I spent all my nights with you these past weeks because you mean nothing to me? You know, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.”

You blink at him in utter confusion, his words knocked you off your feet. He exhales sharply, long fingers running through his messy curls as he tries his best to calm himself down. When he is finally breathing somewhat normally his wildly vibrant green eyes meet your widened stare.

“Y/N, I thought we were on the same page. What did you think it was all about?” he softly asks, seeing how shook you still are.

“I, uhh—I thought this was all just some kind of distraction. You said you were feeling lonely, I thought you were just… kind of using me. And then last night was you returning the favor.”

“Hell no,” he breathes out shaking his head as he steps closer and this time you don’t back away from him. You let his hands run down your arms until they find your hands. “I thought this was clear, but I’m gonna say it then. I’m in love with you, Y/N, have been for a long time, I was just being a pussy and didn’t know how you’d take it. But then, when you didn’t kick me out of your bed the first night we slept together, it got me hoping and it was all heading just the right direction. Then last night happened and I was so damn sure this would be our turning point but then…” He breathes out shakily again, as if the thought still upsets him. “When I called you and you said you were at the airport… I love you, Angel, but I was ready to murder you.”

You let out a faint chuckle, feeling the tears bubbling in your eyes.

“Why did you run away instead of talking to me? Did you not trust me?” he asks softly, a hand coming up to cup your jaw gently.

“I didn’t trust myself,” you admit weakly.

“Oh Angel…” Leaning down he kisses your forehead tenderly, his lips feel like soft feathers against your hot skin. “Do you need me to tell you again how in love I am with you or are you gonna believe me? You’re not planning to run away again, are you?” he teases you making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“I’m not gonna run away, but I would love to hear you say you love me again.”

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Angel, don’t you ever think otherwise for a moment, okay?”

You nod, lips curling into your mouth as your teary eyes meet his green orbs.

“I love you too, Harry.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he chuckles breathing out in relief and it makes you smile. “I would never just use you. Love you way too much for that, Angel. You are everything to me.”

“Wish I knew that earlier,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. It would have saved you a lot of tears.

“I will never stop saying it to you.” His forehead rests against yours, noses touching as his arms curl around your frame, pulling you close to him until you’re pressed up against his hard chest. “Just out of curiosity, what were you thinking when I told you, you reminded me of Hey Angel? Because I think it pretty much gave me away, but apparently, I was wrong,” he chuckles lowly, pulling back a little so he can look you in the eyes.

“I honestly have no idea,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. “I just had a conversation with Florence before that where she called me out about my feelings for you and I was still kind of in shock. Probably took it as just your usual flirty behavior.”

“I’ll admit I do flirt some, but haven’t you realized it’s different with you?”

“I guess not.” “Angel, you are… something else,” he chuckles in disbelief before leaning down he finally presses his lips against yours. You giggle into his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you up from the ground, twirling you around, a squeal slipping from your mouth.

“So, now you have to go back to pack your stuff?” you question, still wrapped into his arms completely and you don’t want to exist any other way. This is where you belong.

“Yeah. Had to chase down this Angel who thought she could run away from me.”

“So how are you planning to get to New York by four tomorrow when you’re still here and have to go back to pack? Have you checked the schedule I sent you? You’re not gonna make it.” You cock your head to the side with an arched brow.

“Did you just go back to full assistant mode right after we confessed our love for each other?”

“Someone has to be responsible and we both know it’s always me.”

“I’ll just hire someone to do it for me, I’ll leave to New York from here. Happy?” he grins at you as you nod.

“Very. Because this means you can stay the night here.”

“Seeing the fact that I literally have nowhere else to go, because even my house keys are in the suitcase I left back… I very much need to stay here for the night,” he points out.

“Good. Come on, my bed felt empty without you,” you giggle, pulling him towards your bedroom and he follows you eagerly.

“I can definitely help that.”

 Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[1kook]

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v  wc; 4.6k 

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

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