#some stuff in life that I hope doesn’t fuck with birthday plans

[beheadable]

I’m very grateful grandpa gave me his old shop chair, but it’s not helping my productivity. It’s very comfortable and leans back far and when I sit at my desk in front of my window, I just want to nap in it. I’m tired all the time anyway this chair absolutely does not help

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,��� Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK

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

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀

NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for  around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!! 

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.

You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt. 

With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).

So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of. 

It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.

There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.

You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.

The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so. 

One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life. 

Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.” 

You mirror their gesture as well. 

As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is. 

An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case. 

Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor. 

You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time. 

As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.

“Hey,”

You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.

“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.

Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.

“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?” 

Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.

“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle. 

“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.

You reciprocate the hug he gives.

“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.

Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.

“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together. 

You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor. 

Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you. 

“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.” 

“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.

Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.” 

“No worries. Anytime.”

When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.

“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.

He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.

“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?” 

You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.

Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.” 

Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.

Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.

“When are you off?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”

Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?” 

“Yeah. Later.” 

The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.

“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.

“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.” 

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.” 

Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, “Fair, fair.” 

You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.

Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago. 

Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.

No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.

You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.

See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case. 

But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.

He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him. 

You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.

Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.

“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously. 

“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate. 

“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu. 

“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.

Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill. 

Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.” 

“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.

“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.” 

“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”

It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.

You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.

You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.

When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions. 

“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers 

Shoot.

You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.

Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there. 

But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake. 

How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!

Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.   

But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already. 

You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu

You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,

“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?” 

“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.

The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.” 

“Wha—”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting. 

Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary. 

“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”

It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.

When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text. 

“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you. 

You don’t really know how that makes you feel. 

“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door. 

“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again. 

“I— huh?”

“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.

You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.

“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything. 

Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”  

But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.

You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app. 

A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.

You don’t really know why you’re here. 

It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay. 

So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside. 

Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.

It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird. 

Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.

Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that. 

You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual. 

You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open. 

“Hi.” You smile. 

“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.

“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?” 

You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”

Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”

“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.” 

He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.” 

“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?” 

Jungkook looks at you apologetically.

“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.” 

“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”

He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.” 

“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.” 

Jungkook grins.

“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies. 

“Okay, Anton Ego.”  

You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.

You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon. 

You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him. 

Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.

As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.

It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago. 

You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous. 

It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering. 

You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.

It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little. 

Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.

“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.

A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you. 

Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.” 

You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.

As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.

There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly. 

“__,” Sol calls beside you. 

“Huh?”

“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.

“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.

Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.” 

You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer. 

“Okay. Just text me.” 

You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office. 

Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.

12:10pm. 

Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.

You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.

But then again, he seems to be busy.

With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text. 

You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch? 

Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend. 

You receive a reply a few seconds after. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __  I’d love to

Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins

Oh. Okay. That tracks. 

You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊

You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria. 

When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure. 

You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.

Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.

You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.

For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.

You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.

They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it’s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.

“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”

“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”

The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.

“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.

“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”

You nod along to his words.

Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.

“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.

“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.

You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.

It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.

“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.

You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”

“What?”

“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”

“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.

“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.

Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”

Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.

“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”

“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”

“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.

“Did you document everything?”

Your response comes in a little curt.

“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”

Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”

When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.

Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.

“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”

Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.

He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”

“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.

He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.

“You and your jokes…”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”

You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.

“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”

Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.

Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—

“You can stay at mine for the night.”

You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.

You stare at him right back.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He raised his brow.

“I can’t think of reasons right now.”

“You don’t need to think at all.”

You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.

Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.

“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”

Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”

“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.

Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.

There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.

But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.

“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.

“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”

You visibly wince at the mention of work.

He’s right and you kind of hate it.

“You’re right…” you say after a while.

“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.

You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”

“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”

You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”

Jungkook visibly stills.

“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”

You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.

“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”

He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.

You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.

Jungkook looks at you.

“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.

You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.

When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.

I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.

It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.

“__?”

You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Do you have clothes in there?”

At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.

With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”

You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”

It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.

When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”

He stops. And then you stop.

You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.

Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.

“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.

You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.

“T-thanks.”

Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.

You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.

Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.

But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.

When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.

It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.

But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.

You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.

When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.

“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.

“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.

“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.

You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.

The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.

Why was he naked?!

Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.

The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.

Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.

Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.

You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.

When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.

You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.

“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”

You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

You shake your head vigorously.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.

“It’s your place.” You reason.

“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.

“But—”

Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.

He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.

You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…

“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”

You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.

When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”

You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?

But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.

“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.

“The temp’s fine.”

He hums and puts down the remote.

“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.

“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”

“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.

When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.

It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.

You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.

You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.

After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.

It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.

When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.

You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.

You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.

Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey,”

“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.

When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.

Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.

“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.

From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.

Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.

“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”

He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.

You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.

When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.

“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”

You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.

“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”

“It’s okay, just sit there.”

You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.

Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.

“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.

“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.

You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.

“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.

“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”

“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”

“Okay… how about your stuff?”

As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.

You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”

Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.

“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”

You look right back at him weird.

“You’re not serious.”

“When am I not serious?”

You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.

“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.

“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.

He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.

But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.

So you decide to joke a little.

“Probably not.” You tease.

Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.

“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”

“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”

“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.

It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.

“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”

You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”

“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.

You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.

“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.

“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.

Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”

“I don’t cook.” You point out.

“I already know that.”

You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”

Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”

“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”

“I can cook.” He chuckles.

“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”

He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

You sigh, out of reasons now.

“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”

Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”

“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.

That prompts you to put a frown on your face.

“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”

It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”

It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.

“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.

You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate. 

You give him a small salute.

Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast." 

You laugh at his squinted eyes. 

"I was going to say yes, anyway."

"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back. 

You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.

All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.

Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.

You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.

After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.

You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.

But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.

It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.

He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.

One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.

On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.

Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.

After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.

As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.

That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.

Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.

You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.

You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.

Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.

“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.

Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”

You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.

“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”

At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.

“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.

“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”

Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.

He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.

You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.

The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.

At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.

You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.

In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.

Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.

Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.

When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.

Jungkook.

The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.

It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.

When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.

But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)

     — Jungkook.

That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.

He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.

And you did not forget to say that either.

“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.

Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”

Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.

“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.

You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.

Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.

So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.

Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”

You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.

You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.

Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.

Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.

Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.

It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.

“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.

“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.

You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.

You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.

“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.

You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”

“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”

You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.

“What?”

“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.

“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”

Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.

“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.

“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”

Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”

You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.

When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.

After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.

You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.

“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.

“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.

After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”

“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.

“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.

“The X-Files. You know the show?”

“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.

You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”

“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”

“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.

You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.

“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.

Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.

“Hm?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”

Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”

“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”

“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”

“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.

Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.

“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.

He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.

You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.

When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.

You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.

There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.

You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.

And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.

You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.

But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.

Again.

His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.

“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.

It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.

You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.

As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.

He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.

You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.

Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.

Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—

But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.

You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.

Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.

It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.

But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.

There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.

You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.

When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.

So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

“Hmm…”

At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.

Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.

When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.

He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.

You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.

When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.

“Oh my god!”

“What the fuck!”

“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.

You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!

Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.

He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.

You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”

You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.

“We slept together.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.

Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.

“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.

Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”

“Oh?” You parrot back.

“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”

You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.

It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.

When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.

Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.

You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.

“Six thirty.”

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.

You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.

“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”

“Oh.”

He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.

“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.

“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”

“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”

“Of course.”

Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.

You failed to do that, obviously.

Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.

After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.

Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.

Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.

“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”

You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”

Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”

That prompts you to laugh.

“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”

He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”

You cock your head to the side.

“What’s the occasion?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”

You nod in understanding.

You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.

As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.

“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.

You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.

You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.

“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.

Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”

“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”

“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”

“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”

Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”

“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”

Jungkook grins. “A dream.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”

Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.

“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.

A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.

“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”

You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”

Jungkook looks at you briefly.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.

He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”

Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!

“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.

Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”

“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.

“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”

You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”

You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.

“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.

“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”

Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”

You scrunch your face. “Me too.”

And then a beat of silence.

Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.

“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”

He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.

You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.

Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.

“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.

“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.

You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”

When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.

“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”

Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”

“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.

Jungkook bursts out in laughter.

“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”

“Are you?” You pout.

Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.

“Alright…”

You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.

“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”

“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”

“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”

Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”

He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.

“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.

You nod your head. His playful smile drops.

“Are you serious?”

You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”

He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.

“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”

You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.

“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”

Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.

“Oh.”

You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You grin. “Interesting insight.”

“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.

When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.

Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”

You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”

You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”

Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.

“How do you know her?”

“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.

Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff.

“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”

He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”

“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.

It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.

Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.

But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.

“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”

The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.

But of what?

You shake off the idea in your head.

“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.

“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.

You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.

It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.

“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.

Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”

You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.

“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”

Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”

“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.

You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”

Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.

“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”

When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.

Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”

“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”

“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.

“Like all of them?”

“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.

“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”

You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.

Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”

You try to think about it.

“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”

Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”

You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”

It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.

But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.

But right now, his question feels real.

If he is flirting with you… do you like it?

You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.

Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.

“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.

You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”

He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.

“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.

“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.

“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.

You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.

You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.

“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.

“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.

Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.

It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.

Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?

“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.

That makes them part.

You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.

“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.

Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.

“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.

You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.

And you know Jungkook notices.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.

His only response is a small, gentle hum.

A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.

You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.

It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.

You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.

When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.

“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.

You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.

“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”

“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.

“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”

You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t mind.”

You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”

You giggle against his chest.

“Carry me before I pass out.”

Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”

“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.

“Fine.”

TAGLIST: @mortal-body-timelesssoul @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lachimolalajeon @miniesjams32 @parkinglot-nights @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aznstoner @chuberry22 @tae-hibiscus @jungkooksmytype

note: pls check your account settings if you are enabling ur profile to be tagged.

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

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Not What I Planned." Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader.

Well hello! It is the amazing and fantastic @eggsandbeer birthday so, so soon! But I am meeting Matt and Skeet tomorrow and my brain is gonna be all on Billy and Stu post that, so you get this now! This is my first time writing Rusty, I watched Joy Ride 2 six times while writing this. I love Riri, she is so fucking awesome and I adored doing this. She has a more personalized version but gave the go ahead to post a reader insert version for you all! So let's go!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.7K (I Know.) Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Customer Service Work. Asshole Customers. Murder Mentioned. Drinking. Making Out. Man Handling. Fingering. Masturbation. Blow Job. Cum Eating. Vaginal Sex. Riding. Taunting. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Praise. Pet Names.

---

You hate your job, it is exhausting, mentally and physically, a total drain, but you do all you can to not let it get you down. You focus on the little things, good customer interactions, great coworkers and the times you are truly able to get away from your work. It isn’t like it’s what you wanted to do for the rest of your life anyway, far from it, in fact one of those vital lifelines that helps keep you sane is a local news internship, it gives you some good experience for what you hope to actually eventually do with your life along with giving you purpose. 

Today is not good, though, off to a less than ideal start. This is decidedly not the way you wanted to spend your birthday. Rolling into the grocery store to do a closing shift, apron in your grip and bag over your shoulder, half-hearted waves to co-workers as you strolled through towards the area you could safely stow away your stuff until you are allowed to clock out. You do just that, drop your stuff in the usual place, get your uniform situated and punch in, ready for another day of God knows what bullshit. 

Your mind was at least slightly occupied, where you work is en route to the Burning Man festival which meant that you were busy as fuck with people loading up on supplies before they arrive to their final destination, it kept you busy. As for what kept your brain whirring, your internship had tasked you with writing a piece on the crowd that is rolling through on their way, meaning you are watching and listening intently. It looks like you aren’t from the outside, hands stacking a fruit display, but ears open, all sorts of talk about events the Burners were amped up for, how much further they had to travel, what snacks were the best and would keep in the desert heat. 

You did some actual work naturally, finding yourself crouched and cleaning out a stubborn drain, the process thoroughly annoying and honestly degrading, and not in the fun way you usually liked. It was your fucking birthday, for Christ’s sake, you should be indulging in the fun kind of calve burning, not the bent over and unclogging kind. Still, you try to stay in higher spirits and certainly not show it outwardly, if someone squinted hard enough, they might be able to pick up on it. 

Later on, you had just finished making a new display, standing back and looking at the gorgeous display of apples you’d spent longer than you cared to mention on, hands on your hips. The first genuine smile that had graced your face since clocking in and wasn’t tinged with a single hint of perfectly practised customer service fakeness. This is one of those moments you felt genuine pride in your work, a glimmer of nicety in all the bullshit. 

It lasted for two whole seconds.

A customer’s cart hits you in the hip and wrist simultaneously because of how you were standing, the action both painful and shocking, completely unexpected. It makes you step to the side, grip your wrist with your other hand, the pain is throbbing and dull, it isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, but it still sucks and should have never happened in the first place. The customer doesn’t apologize. Worse still, they stride forward, pick a single apple from the middle of the display, causing half of it to tumble over. The customer scoffs with a roll of their eyes, they drop the apple into their cart to look around, seeming to notice you just now for the first time, only then acknowledging you. They give a pointed look from you to over their shoulder, a motion of their head as they criticized your work, “Not very sturdy.” 

Your mouth falls open, and they tut as they walk away, leaving you dumbfounded with fifteen some odd apples scattered on the ground that you had to clean up and a display you had to rebuild. 

Later still, you are sweeping, trying to get these damn onion skins up, but they aren’t moving. You are half focused, conversing with one of the Burners, they are asking for your opinion on what kombucha is best, and you are humouring them and getting a few questions answered along the way. 

Throughout all the regular work crap, you’d been having small conversations with people, writing brief notes for your project, and it was nice getting some serious stuff down about it, served as a half decent distraction too. 

His initial thought is that it was reminiscent of a zoo, upon greater thought while attempting to park the Peterbilt he decided swiftly that it was worse than that, a fucking circus. He manages to park and decides that getting in and out as fast as possible would be vital to maintaining his sanity. He was aware that Burning man was happening, naturally, but still the place was crowded as all Hell, more than he had been anticipating. Rusty didn’t like large crowds of people, but he needs some supplies, he needs to eat. 

It isn’t any better inside. 

He is making his way around, hat pulled low, basket in his grip, grabbing a few drinks, some favoured snacks that he knew kept well, he was passing by the produce, almost ready to get the fuck out. He goes into your department, he is grabbing bananas and thinking about getting some of those pre-cut carrot and celery sticks. Rusty is trying to be a tad more health minded, not like it would do much with how much he enjoys a good smoke but better to do something than nothing he supposed. 

His train of thought is broken when he hears a loud exclamation of, “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are!”

Rusty’s head turns, he catches sight of you, standing there, trying to look apologetic as some older lady is verbally ripping into you, “I’m making lemon chicken LEEK stroganoff, right?”

She is looking at you expectantly, your eyes wide, and with that half customer service forced smile you nod and say through gritted teeth, “Right.” 

“So tell me, how. Am I. Supposed. To make. Lemon, chicken LEEK stroganoff without LEEKS?” The way she said it was infuriating, the halting, pausing way of it, so condensing, as if you were the cross between an idiot and a child all rolled into one. 

“I don’t know, ma’am. I guess you can’t. I’m very sorry.” You admit it reluctantly, knowing she won’t like your response, and she does not. She goes off on you, “Well I’ve had this menu planned for WEEKS, I have company coming tonight! You have to make this right!” 

Rusty was listening in, brow pinching, this woman was off her rocker, what a complete bitch. You were trying to calm her, smooth over the situation, and she was being worse and worse to you. No matter what you say, she wouldn’t stop freaking out. 

“I really am very sorry. I could call another store nearby and ask if they have any leeks?” You offer up, and she scoffed with a laugh, “So I can make ANOTHER stop? Do you not remember? I am hosting a dinner party tonight, I’m busy! I have other places to go, I can’t be here fighting with you over this all night!”

And yet she was still here, doing just that. 

He had turned, wasn’t watching quite as subtly as he was previous. You were doing your best and none of it was measuring up to this crazy, impossible standard that was being set out. He was looking at you, and he could see that you were taking it hard, your customer service face and voice were holding strong, but your eyes? They looked so sad. 

You reminded him of a kicked puppy, as the woman finally had enough of being a raging cunt and stormed off. Right after that, someone else in uniform walked by, a manager? And on their way, they said, “Happy birthday.”

You gave a small, “Thanks.” along with half a wave as they strode past. You were not only working on, but getting treated like that, on your birthday? 

It got to him, hit him square in the chest, shot to the heart. A sigh and he looks over, he makes a note of the asshole who mistreated you so, he has a little time before they check out before he can go dispose of them in the parking lot for being so unreasonable and rude to you. It might be too far for some people but not for him, people like that, there is no changing them, not at her age, some people don’t deserve to live. 

First things, first though, he saunters over to you, a small clearing of his throat before he asks, “Got a date tonight, there a drink you’d recommend?” 

You turn towards the low and smooth voice, you have to turn your head up to look at him properly, he was taller than you. The way he was standing, the angle, and how he wore his hat you couldn’t see his face, brim pulled too low, standing a few feet away.

A small inhale and your smile turned more genuine before you reply, “Oh, our Pink Champagne is my favourite. I get that on special occasions.” 

Well, how fucking perfect a find were you? Kind, respectful, hardworking, and you have good taste. 

“Thank you.” He said it easily with a wave of his hand in acknowledgement and broke away. You watch him go and think to yourself that he is cute, in that particular way that strikes you when an older guy catches your eye just so. The interaction doesn’t stick with you however, you turned and saw more fucking onion skins that needed sweeping up.

Hours later, you finally get off of work, messed up apron in one hand and looking forward to getting the hell home. You had two days off ahead, you were intent on a bath and partaking in some drinks in your fridge with a good record on when you get home. You are walking through the dark and now very empty parking lot, your mind only focused on reaching your car, sliding behind the wheel and getting home as soon as possible, when you hear a voice calling out. Your car keys are in one hand, the keys between your fingers, sticking out and ready to punch a would be attacking if you need to. 

Hearing the voice makes you put your head on a swivel, initially scared, you look and then see it is that older gentlemen you helped out earlier. You pause, and he comes a little closer, again in the dark and with that hat you can’t make out much except for the orange glow of the end of his cigarette, partially illuminating the lower half of his face. He calls out your name, following it with a question of, "-right?” 

“Hi, yeah it is.” You were still sightly on edge until he is holding up the very same bottle you suggested earlier, “Wanted to say thank you for your recommendation, properly.” 

Your brows raise up, you saw him in the store hours ago, meaning he should in theory be long gone, and you ask, “I thought you had a date?” 

“I do. I was just waitin’ for her to get off work.” Even though you couldn’t see it fully, you could hear the smile in his tone, and it makes one spread to your own face. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realize that was you asking me out.” 

The tone you said it in was very light, and he seemed equally amused, “Sorry bout that, terrible manners on my part, truly.”

There is a beat of silence, and you say, “I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” 

“So you’d be willing to join me?” He asks, you nod, you felt endeared to him very quickly, the confidence he displayed, the boldness, you were charmed and figured why not? You had the time tonight, nothing wrong with enjoying a birthday drink bought by a courteous man. 

“Where are we going to go?” You ask, and he gestured over to the large shiny black Piterbilt towards the back of the lot. “Was thinking my truck, if that’s alright with you?”

When he asks in that delicious tone of voice, you think that yes, it is very alright with you. “Lead the way.” You prompt, and he does, you fall into step beside him, apron is thrown over your shoulder, and you asked, “So you’re a truck driver?”

“How’d you ever guess?” He asked on an exhalation of his cigarette with a glance over to you. Now you can catch the half smirk on his face, unable to make out his eyes completely, but it didn’t bother you, honestly you kind of dug the mysterious kind of thing, not even fully knowing what he looked like. If anything that communicated how into him, you were, hadn’t even seen his whole face but his voice and how he carried himself was more than enough to convince you to this odd kind of unexpected date. 

“I’m real intuitive. Call it a gift.” You mused, and he liked you, even in how you joked, there was no real meanness to it, could tell that it was all in fun and that inherent niceness shone through. “Giving me gifts when it’s your birthday? Isn’t that what M’ supposed to be doing?” 

That gives you some slight pause, how in the fuck did he know that it was your birthday? Before any serious question could be made, you were next to his truck on the passenger side. You look it over and say honestly, “Nice truck.”

“Thanks, do my best to take real good care of it, s’ seen some rough times.” You look a little closer, scrutinizing, if it had, you couldn’t tell, the thing looked clean and not a scratch on it. You turn and lean against it, you realize he had gotten some cups that were also sold at your work, he holds them out, “Mind holding these while I open this?”

You nod and take them out of his outstretched hand and watch as the last remainder of his cigarette was dropped and ground under the heel of his boot. He uncorks the bottle with ease, doesn’t spill any or cause it to overflow, which mildly impresses, you hold out the cups and he fills them. The bottle is set aside on the ground and after passing him his cup he asked “Any words to share?”

“Here’s to the weekend?” You offered up after a moment’s thought, and he said, “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks yours and his cups together, and you take a sip of the sweet and familiar fizzy alcoholic drink. 

“Seriously the shift I had today was rough, so this is really nice, thank you-” Then you realize you don’t know his name, he clearly picks up on this and says, “Name’s Rusty. Rusty Nail.” 

Immediately you figure it must be his CB handle, you wonder if Rusty is his real name, but also you don’t think it matters much, you don’t press, “Well thank you, Rusty, really.” 

“S’ my pleasure. Heard how that woman was going off on you earlier, some people can be so rude.” Is that what prompted this? The total bitch who was freaking over leeks? If so, you think that maybe her being such a raging cunt wasn’t such a bad thing if it led to this. 

Little did you know that Rusty had taken care of her, she was currently stuffed in the trunk of her own car, way, way on the other side of the lot, body long since gone cold. 

The conversation then turned to you both complaining about a shared distaste for rude and unreasonable people, he let you vent about your day and previous horrible customers at your job. As the conversation went on, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more. You also find yourself standing closer to him, half the bottle gone, he’s had another smoke, and you are leaning on him much more than the truck, he doesn’t mind, you sigh to him, “I cannot believe the crap you have to put up with, it’s so unfair!” 

“Some people have some really unsavoury and outdated views on people in my line of work.” He admits with a nod, and from what he’d shared it seemed like. There are people who say the meanest shit, make horrible assumptions, treat him like dirt or worse, a feeling you know all too well at your own job. You relate to Rusty. 

You’d been talking for an hour, and it was even later, darker, and a shiver unexpectedly ran up your spine, “You cold?”

You were a little, you were in a t-shirt and after standing in one spot for so long this late the chill had somehow set in. “Yeah, surprisingly I am a bit.” 

Then he made an interesting offer. “You want to get in my truck, warm up?” 

You think you really did want that. “Yeah, that’d be great, actually.” 

He moved back then and so did you, he opened the door for you, and you looked up, Christ it was big, how were you supposed to get in while in your slightly buzzed state without looking like a total clown? You feel him against your back, he asks, “Need some help?”

You nod, unsure of what he means or how he is going to help but trusting him all the same, it’s then that you feel his hands on you. He turns you, and then those same hands find your waist with ease and grip. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you realize to him, you probably do, as he helps hoist you into the passenger side of the truck. Rusty sits you on your ass in the seat and your face feels much hotter, he just scooped you up and set you down so fast, one simple and fluid motion as he stepped one foot up on the running board, and then there you were. You are side-saddle, legs dangling down and far off of the ground. His hands leave you quicker than you’d like, sliding off your waist and stepping back down. You are a bit dazed, his hand touches your ankle, and you jump, he laughs at your surprised, “What?”

“You wanna get your legs in, so I can close the door?” You nod and do so, swinging your legs in, and he shuts the door. Your hand, that had been clutching your bag and apron, dropped them on the floor by your feet. You look down into your cup, you hadn’t spilled any even when he picked you up, the cup is raised, you tip it back and swallow down the remainder. A sigh and you pull the cup back, hand still clutching it, comes to rest on your thigh as your thumb on your opposite hand swipes a stray drop from the corner of your mouth. He had come around to the other side, he has the door open and is sliding in beside you into the driver's seat, he’d picked up the bottle on the way, and you were contemplating asking for more.

As if reading your mind he gestures for your cup, you lean over, holding it out, and he pours you some more, you asked him, “So before, you were talking about all the bad stuff about truck driving, but what about the stuff you do like?”

The question seems to surprise him if his tone is any indication, “The stuff I do like?” 

He has pulled the bottle back, he isn’t pouring more for himself, you respond to his question with another of your own, “Yeah, what makes the job worth it? Other than the money.” 

Rusty considers the question for a moment before he says, “I like seein’ the country, like being by myself most of the time but most of all? Probably seems obvious, but the freedom of it.” 

You nodded, it made sense and asked, “Can go anywhere, do anything?” 

“S’actly.”  

The silence is as surprisingly comfortable as the passenger seat of this truck is. The thought hits, and you say it without thinking, “I dunno how you do it.” 

“What? Truck drivin’?” He asks, and you say with a turn to him, “Yeah! Like, the actual driving it.”

He laughs, and you press on, one hand holding your cup and the other making like you are gripping a steering wheel that was comically large, pretending to turn it, “Seriously! This thing is massive, it’s a beast! How can you control it?”

“Ain’t that hard really, just gotta be the right mix of careful and confident.” He assures, and you laugh, “You make it sound so easy, I’ve never driven anything this big, that-” You point out the window to your much less impressive ride, “-is my car over there.” 

“Yeah, don’t quite measure up, does it?” He teases and you grin, “Nope. But I don’t think I could drive anything like this.”

“I think you could.” A small pause before he asks the big question, “Wanna try?” 

You nearly choke on your sip and pull the cup back, wiping at your mouth, “What? Me? Drive the behemoth? You want to write it off that bad, Rusty?” 

“You cannot be that bad a driver.” He scoffs. 

“Rusty, you barely know me, I dunno-” He insists, “C’mon, I’ll help.”

“Help?”

You were curious enough to allow it to happen, you’d not counted on his idea of help being putting you in his lap. He’d moved the seat back enough and encouraged you to climb on, emboldened by both the drink and his encouragement, you slide on into the space he made. He moves the seat forward enough to do the pedals, and he places your hands on the wheel, his hands covering yours. “You sure this is a good idea?” 

Nerves were setting in, you’d been drinking, not a lot but also all the close contact with him was getting to you, his attractiveness was apparent during your brief meeting earlier but now that you'd’ been getting to know him? He was becoming even more appealing, being sat in his lap, your back to his chest, his hands on yours, you felt flustered. Sounded by him in both touch and scent, it could be enough to make your head swim if you let it. In your current position, his voice is over your shoulder, “Positive. You’ll be fine.” 

The tone of voice he says it in, the conviction, he makes you believe it. 

One of his hands leaves yours briefly to start her up, the truck rumbles to life, and it makes you jump slightly, Christ it was loud and is vibrating like all Hell. “We’ll just do a lil’ loop, alright? M’ doing the pedals, you just steer her real easy.” 

He had to speak louder to be heard over the hum of the truck, and you pitch your own volume up to be heard, “Yeah, real easy, can do.” 

His foot comes down slowly, and he eases it forward, you grip the wheel tightly and let him lead. He talks you through the process, and it helps, you focus your eyes forward and your ears on listening to his smooth voice praising you, “Uh-huh, around the pole, use it as a guide.” You swallowed and nodded, brows knit together as he keeps talking, “Oh good job, see? You’re doing it.” 

His hands squeeze yours reassuringly, your mouth feels dry, you nod and say quieter than you should, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, you’re doing most of the work.” You feel that isn’t truthful but again, he talks, you believe. 

“Almost all the way around, a little further-” Both his hands leave yours, sliding down your arms and choosing to come to rest on your waist again, letting you fully be in control. It makes you tense, rushing out, “Rusty, wait-”

Another flex of his hands, another show of comfort, he says easily, drawling out, “Calm down, you’re doing it all yourself.” 

You aren’t fully convinced until you’ve made the full loop, and he lets off the gas, he turns off the car and your shoulders slump, what he says next, makes you melt, “I told you. You’re perfect.” 

That does something, makes a particular part of you break, or is it wake up? Either way, a certain section of you, somewhere aside, comes alive, and instead of wanting to run from it, you chose to grab onto the live wire of sensation with both hands. The truck has stopped, but you keep moving, the urge overcomes, and you turn in your seat and in his lap, one hand comes up, meets his cheek, feeling the rough stubble. He’d already gotten you the champagne, but you think you want more still, and you ask, “Can I be selfish?”

“S’ your birthday, be as selfish as you want to.” You take that is more than enough of an invitation. You lean up and in, push the brim of his hat up enough to give yourself the appropriate access, and you kiss him. 

He had a feeling it was going this way, but thinking and experiencing are two different things. You choosing to take the lead was better than he could have been hoping for, though. Your mouth was so fucking soft, you felt warm, he tried to take it easy, but this is the kind of thing he can’t help getting swept up in. Chances like this don’t come around often, the urge to rush is present, he manages to ignore it, preferring to savour it, or rather, savour you. He lets himself relax further into the seat, returning your affection immediately. 

The scratch of his facial hair against your skin feels better than you’d hoped it would, you let out a soft exhale, a sound on the precipice of a moan while still falling just short. His hands are still on your waist, he nudges you closer, you lean in more, your head tilts, his lips part, and he tastes more like cigarettes than he does the champagne, but it’s there. Your tongue makes the first exploration and sticky sweet fruit is unearthed from below smoke and ash. 

One of his hands slides down, a brief pass over your thigh, and you wonder where it’s going, you realize in short order when the seat you are both on moves back, giving you more space, making it, so you aren’t quite as locked up against the steering wheel. Heat is sparking inside, your hand moves from his face, slipping to rest on his neck, your other hand comes up to his shoulder, fingers grip the jacket he has on and the want becomes too much. You grind down on him. 

The shifting and adjusting allows you to feel how hard he was growing, a harsher inhale, and you begin to scramble, you want more contact, you move to be fully straddling him, no more twisting partially around like you currently were. You are seated just right soon enough, ass firmly planted, and you think fleetingly God he had some solid thighs, strong, you felt very well-supported. 

The making out was only paused briefly while you changed position, you’d gotten right back into it, your mouth slotting back against his with a hum that sounded like his name. You grind again and this time he returns it, rutting up into you, and the friction makes you actually moan this time. The taste, the feeling, and two minutes more of making out is all it takes for you to break, pulling back once his touch had gotten bolder, one having slid up your body, palming one of your tits through your work shirt easily with how large his hands were. You arch into him, breaking the kiss you beg, “Fuck, Rusty, more.”

You are close enough now that you can see his smile as opposed to just hear it, his hand moves and starts to go under your shirt, rough fingers on bare skin and steadily moving up, brushing the edge of your bra. Not quite a laugh but more than an amused releasing of air, he asks, “More?” 

A frantic nod, another squirm of your hips and he asks, “How much more? C’mon, tell me.”

He wants you to say it and you want it desperately enough that it’s no issue, far from it, if anything him making you say it, makes you want it more, makes you feel hotter. “Fuck me?”

“I like your directness.” Thank God for that. “Just have a lil more patience with me, alright?” 

When he asks in that tone, you think you’d do just about anything. A small nod and he needs to get his fill of you just a hair more. Hands explore, groping, feeling, it teases both of you, trying to get a sense of your body before the clothes come off, mind running over just how you’ll feel with nothing in the way. You remain good, you let him feel, minimal squirming on your part, even when he starts kissing your neck as the hand that isn’t up your shirt kneads your ass. Only when you feel your underwear literally plastered to you and your cunt ache incessantly do you whine his name again. 

He mercifully acquiesces, “Okay, okay, I hear you.” 

He eases up, a gesture of his head for you to move to the passenger's seat, “Gonna need you out of those clothes for what you really want.” 

You rush to comply. Once in the passenger's seat, sitting sideways, still facing him, looking at him, your hands catch the bottom hem of your shirt and as if anticipating that you intended to frantically tear it off, he stops you. One hand out and that sweet but firm tone, commanding, "Do it slowly." 

Your face feels hot, and you do as instructed, slowing your movements right down, pulling the shirt up, exposing your stomach and then your bra. Higher and higher until you have taken it off, tossing it in the direction of your bag and apron. Next you have your thumbs hooked in the waist of your pants, arching your hips you start to slide them down, you watch him, try to gauge his reaction, but it’s hard in the low lighting. He gives a nod to show he’s pleased so far, encouraging you verbally too, “Go on.” 

Shoes removed, pants follow, soon you are in just your underwear, and he speaks, a small gesture of your body, up and down, “S’ a good start but keep going.” 

You reach behind yourself, start to unhook your bra, and he is still talking, “Dying to see the rest.” 

You swear you can feel his eyes raking over every exposed inch of your skin. A small thought strikes, you follow it, slipping your arms out of the straps but holding the cups to your chest, an indulgent smile, a rise of your eyebrows, and he clicks his tongue, you play dumb and ask, “What?”

“You’re being a tease.” He states, and you ask in a tone of mock innocence, “Am I?” 

He says more seriously. “Drop it.” 

Unsure if he means your bra or the act, you chose to abandon both. You let the padded fabric slip out of your hands, a spread of your legs, you wonder if he can tell how wet you are from here. He moves too now, you weren’t expecting it, he falls to his knees in the space between your seat and his. Hands come to your hips and the sudden contact makes you jerk with a sharp inhale. His mouth catches yours in another kiss, you return it and moan, his mouth doesn’t stay on yours for long, trails down, jaw and neck, one on your shoulder and lower.

He is confident, he’s taking what he wants and you more than let him, you enjoy every rough scrape of his well worked hands, pass of his lips and nip of his teeth. His warm breath fanning over your chest is welcome, one hand has moved again, over your hip and now on your inner thigh, his thumb is close enough, and he runs it up you, swipes up your clothed slit. You sigh, eyes falling closed, relishing the contact, you are sure now he can feel how wet you are. He runs it back down and then up again, a press just right, and you moan between the friction on your clit and his mouth now on your chest. 

He found it so easily and judging by the smile you can feel against the curve of your breast, he is just as pleased. Rusty abandons the current pleasant task, fingers hooking in your underwear, “I got a feelin’ it’d be a fight to get these off you too, an’ I just can’t wait.” 

You couldn’t either, not anymore. 

Assisting with a move of your ass up, he gets them off, and now you are naked in his semi-truck. You want to jump him, but he is holding you down by your thighs, taking in the view of you unobstructed, totally bare. “Fucking gorgeous.”

A hand reaches out, catches his jacket, and you tug as you tell him, “I feel really exposed right now, you wanna lose some of these?”

“S’ only fair.” He agrees, he removes his jacket and asks, “Wanna give me a little show while I fix myself?” 

It is a request, but you take it like it’s an order. Hand between your spread legs, fingers trace up, catching ample wetness and spreading it up, circling sensitive tissue, making your thighs tense and a small moan fall from your lips. “There you go.”

The praise helps, you increase the pressure, and he hums in approval. Shirt is gone, belt is opened more and more revealed until he is in a similar state of undress. The view of him stripping all for you is insanely helpful. Pleasure is filling you easily and once he is ready he asks, “You mind if I-?”

“However you want me, please.” It leaves you needy and breathless. He steps in, he moves your hands away from yourself, and starts to adjust you to his liking. You like it, you think he can be rougher honestly, you are put on your knees, facing the passenger window, a hand on your back, adjusting you more, hips tilted up, and you feel him against you. The bump of his shaft between your thighs and over your clit is already very good. “Ready, yeah?”

A shaky nod, “Please Rusty-”

The one word and his name is all you are able to get out before he is lining up just right, you hold your breath in anticipation, he spits into his own hand, strokes himself, the extra lube as courtesy is appreciated. He slides in, and you let out a gasp, he doesn’t do it easily, taking you in one firm stroke, hand on your hips as his come to rest against your ass. He revels in you, the tight, soaked heat of you, his head tips back slightly as he soaks it before he starts to move. Pulling out halfway before driving forward, your hands scrabble for the window’s edge, you hold onto it like a lifeline as you gear up for what is already promising to be the ride of a lifetime. 

His thrusting is firm, just like him, steady and sure, a good and even pace. It leaves breathless, not caring about being overheard, not like anyone could in the empty parking lot. A heavy breath from him, “Fucks sake, you’re soaked.” 

You were moaning, incoherent pleas, along with his name, you were more than warmed up, each drag of his thick shaft in and out increasing the feeling. Fingers dig into the meat of your hips, he pulls you back as he drives forward, and you move too, rocking backwards to meet him. “Tight as Hell, can barely fit myself in here.” 

“Keep talking, never, ever stop talking.” Is the one thought in your brain as you moan dumbly. You aren’t thinking much, unable, but you are feeling. Rusty was so kind to you, was totally turning your birthday around, making you feel incredible, spoiling you, and you want to do the same. His hands are roaming and that won’t do, you need to stop him before you are fucked into total submission and wrecked. Another minute, just another minute, you tell yourself, eyes are half open and brain hazy. The glass is so fogged up you can’t see out of it, could write your name but if he asked you doubted your hands would be steady enough. Could you even spell your name right now with what he was doing to you? 

Finally, you reach back, hands on his hips, “Ru-Rusty, please, stop-”

“Something the matter?” He asked, holding deep, all the way to the hilt inside you. His hands smooth up your sides, fingers trace the curves of your chest before coming back down again, and you shiver, clenching on his shaft. 

“Gotta, fuck, do something. Pull out?” He listens, he does so, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”  

The pet names, fucking Christ the pet names, you are forcing yourself to move. It happens quickly. You turn, and then you push him, so his back is against the seat of the driver's side. He takes the hint, sits up on the seat sideways, and then you are the one on your knees. Between his spread thighs, you lean down, a hand locks around the base of his shaft and you lick. He lets out a surprised groan, soft and sounding too good. You start to blow him in earnest, careful of your gag reflex as you work. Your hand slips up and down his slick shaft as you suck on the head, his hand comes down to your head, fingers twist in your hair, “Like tasting yourself?” 

A nod as you moan against him, tongue swirls around the tip, and he watches enraptured, his hips buck slightly, and you gag almost immediately. He inhales through his teeth, “Sorry there.”

You brush him off, a gesture that it is fine, as you redouble your efforts. He seems to be enjoying it immensely, he is encouraging you further but soon asks, “Can you handle some more?”

For him, you want to try. You nod, and he guides you, does it slowly and easily, “Breathe through it-”

You do and the pace, his voice, it somehow works, and you’re able to take him deeper, “Pretty birthday girl. Takin’ it so well.” 

All you wanted to do was please him, you continue the work for only a minute more, however because then he tells you, “I want you back up here.”

You jump at the chance. Same as before, you climb up him and straddle him, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this is going. “You didn’t have to do that.” He comments, and you have your hands on his biceps, currently sucking a hickey into his neck and teasing your dripping hole with the tip of his dick, “I know. I wanted to.”  

“Could tell you were into it. You always wanna taste yourself like that?” 

“Not always but it is-” You move your hips down, start to slide him inside with a moan, once he is buried inside of you again you finish the thought, “-a favourite.” 

“Dirty girl.” He coos it like a compliment, and it hits you just like one, too. You start to ride, his hands on you help along with upward rocks of his hips. You bite and suck along his throat in between broken moans, the salt of his skin is a tad too addicting, as is the stretch of him inside and the way he brushes all the right spots inside of you at this angle. 

Apparently it still isn’t good enough for him. 

He tugs you closer, presses you so that way your clit is getting friction and ground with every thrust and bounce, your moans increase in volume in pitch along with the sensation. You had no clue this is how your day would shake out, if you did, maybe your shift would have been more bearable. 

His hands are on your back, holding you close, fucking up into you as you are slamming down, and on a particularly good hit you are gasping. For two people fucking for the first time and relative strangers, you’d found a frighteningly good rhythm. Your body is moving on instinct, just chasing what feels good but still, thoughtlessly tinged with doing your best to please him, thankful for the moment that what seems to be getting him off is feeling incredible for you. It isn’t quite enough, though, and he seems to pick up on that. 

“Lean back.” His voice snaps you out of your pleasure induced stupor, and you nod, separating yourself from him, the one point of contact still remaining your ass on his thighs and him stuffed deep inside. He directs you further, his hands help, and you find yourself with one hand on his knee, the other braced on the roof of the truck, feet on the seat on either side of him and with a confident nod you start moving again. 

It’s good, you are able to hit spots inside yourself that are even deeper, using all your leg muscles as well as your hands it becomes more of a full body effort, minute adjustments can be made so too much strain is never on one part of your sweat slick frame. Soon as you are just right in the groove of it, he surprises you, why he wanted the change in position becomes all too clear. His hand is between your bodies and his thumb presses down, swirling over your clit, and it makes your pace falter, “Oh my fucking God-”

“Don’t stop now.” The way he says it makes a shiver run up your spine and again makes you clench down on him. He says it in the dominant tone of voice, but it’s light, that smug fucking half grin on his face, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. You shake your head, choking out, “Wo-won’t stop.” 

“No, course you won’t, you’re so good at listening.” The praise washes over you with another sharp jolt of ecstasy. His hand that wasn’t working your nerves into a frenzy was on your thigh, sliding up, gripping your hip, “This workin’ for you?”

Fuck, was it ever. You nod frantically, focusing on breathing and not stopping riding him, but in short order, your movements were getting increasingly sloppy. It was like he didn’t have to ask, didn’t rush it, just let you work it out and helped carry you along. You were getting dangerously close, the edge creeping up at a blinding pace, everything you’d experienced so far this night was piling up and threatening to make you break apart at the seams. There were no real words, just hurried breathing and pitched moans, head back, nails digging into the fabric of the truck cab’s roof, the sound of skin on skin and his encouragement. 

A soft call of your name, his hips moving up, grinding into you as his hand works and him asking in a mind meltingly hot tone, “I wanna see it, give it to me.”

And something about that, whether it is what he said or how he said it, causes the reaction inside to finally make it happen, like it clicks into place just right, and you go from a weak and barely audible strained whisper of, “I’m almost there!” To holy fucking shit, I’m, “-cumming!” 

Riding as much became not an option, legs almost giving out, but he takes over, grip on your hip is bruising, hip strength impressive, and he drives up into you over and over. Your hand isn’t able to stay on the roof, caught midair, body tense as your climax rockets through your body, you think your hand on his knee might be drawing blood with your nails, but you can’t stop it nor can you care. 

You jerk as it peaks, and he slips out, his fingers don’t stop until you are crying out and pushing him away, still trembling through the aftershocks. Your eyes were closed, you were panting and not even remotely down from his high when you feel the hot splatter on your tits and stomach with your name staining his tongue. Peaking back open, you see him, hand around himself, and he’d cum all over your torso. The pretty pearly white is sliding down, and his own breathing is very laboured. Your hand trails down, still shaky, skating through the mess he left, and then you're bringing those same fingers back up to taste him. 

Your body relaxes against him, you get into a more comfortable position, and after you stop shuddering so much you are telling him, “That was pretty fucking great.”

“Oh, are you all done?” He asked as he looks up at you, hands are resting lazily on your thighs, tracing patterns absentmindedly. “I mean I thought we were but are we not?”

“We don’t gotta be. I’m in no rush.” The thought of that is extremely pleasant. 

“Another drink till you’re ready to go again, old man?” You asked with a smile, and he laughs as he reaches over to where the bottle was left on the floor of his side of the truck. Thankfully it hadn’t been knocked over, “You get that one and only cuz you were so good.” 

“Only one old man joke or one joke overall? Because I was gonna make one hoping that you aren’t passingly along tetanus to me Rusty, but if you’re planning to be a buzzkill-” He shuts you up with a hand on the back of your neck and a kiss that you end up humming into. Yeah, you think this has been a pretty solid birthday. 

[aeraspais]

I really like how the birthday flop scene helped to validate Eddie’s feelings about not leaving Chris to his grandparents in his will. Because as much as that was a love letter to Buck, it’s also based on real anxieties he had about how his parents don’t trust him with Chris. I hope he’s able to dredge up some of the assuredness in his choices that he felt in the will scene so he can confront his parents with it. I liked how they kind of neatly summed up that dynamic in the birthday scene with Helena clearly not helping Chris to process and instead planning for him to set down roots in Texas, Eddie clearly feeling so much like a bad parent that he doesn’t challenge her (and he's still totally repressing!), and Buck being right by his side to support him through it without making it ABOUT Buck (though not every viewer got that memo 🙄). The writing and directing in that scene was so fucking good, sorry to Tommy and his mismatched party hat

Also I've been thinking about just how much Eddie trusts Buck with Chris and how that comes back to how Buck has actually tried to help Chris with his feelings of abandonment in the past (because he can relate!). Chris was so young at the time that he could only process it as "it's okay if my dad's girlfriend is not a permanent fixture in my life". Eddie was great in that situation, not letting Chris dictate his love life just because he had a tantrum. Because everything's more heightened in season 7 because of the Shannon of it all, no one wants to put their foot down with Chris. Buck was right to tell Chris that he was being a little asshole for cheating on girls but he totally backed down when he realised it was because he felt abandoned by Shannon (he's not his dad, and he never knew Shannon, so of course he felt unequipped to deal with it!). It was Eddie's role as his father to help him process that but because he feels so guilty about Shannon and has idealised her and he doesn't want Chris to feel unloved, he instead tried to make Chris think he wasn't abandoned by dredging Shannon up from beyond the grave with the letter - which obviously didn't help because "I feel bad about abandoning you" does not take away the actual abadonment. Which is sweet and comes from a place of love, but did not actually address the problem which is that Chris now thinks it's okay to put his emotions above others'.

Chris was little when the Ana stuff happened, he's old enough now to understand that his dad was hurting too (which Buck tries to get him to understand in 710 which obviously didn't work because Chris is a Diaz and took the repression and avoidance route which his grandparents encouraged). I also like how that touches on how the REAL issue with Eddie's relationships is not that he's dating at all, it's that his motivations for doing it are misguided - he is looking for Shannon's ghost (literally lol) instead of what he actually WANTS and NEEDS (Evan Buckley). Which is why I can't wait (I hope!) for Eddie to put his foot down and say "I am your father and you can't keep punishing me forever, we have to deal with this together". Eddie is a GOOD dad who makes mistakes and I can't wait to see him work out how to fix them (sorry this is so long!!)

How did I get so incredibly lucky with my anons? I don’t think I have anything else further to add. This is perfect, thank you for sharing.

[reanbowful]

“I hate you”

if you lash out at them during an argument

*implications of cheating, the boys are unlikable in this (after some nsfw posts come freshen up with angst🤩)

(gray, ben, donald, jake, wolf, dean)

gray yeon / yeon sieun

You and Gray’s relationship is.. a bit complicated. It’s more of a situationship than an actual relationship.

So you do couply stuff together, like get each other flowers. Study dates. You go on dates together, and stuff like that. But you guys don’t have a label.

Like he’s not stupid, he knows you have a romantic attraction towards him. But he’s just.. not sure.

He doesn’t know if this is what you really want.

What if you find someone better? What if you get bored? What if you get tired?

Gray is used to people walking out of his life, so he’s quite sensitive about making new connections.

So one day, he decides to test you. (as harsh as it is, I feel like Gray would do something like this. Like test his partner. When in doubt use science or whatever)

“I can’t go today. I have a date coming up.”

He saw your expression twist.

“A date? What do you mean ‘a date’?”

“I’m going out with someone. So we can’t go to that arcade today.”

You stood from your seat, scrunching your brow.

“If you’re joking, that’s really not funny.”

“It’s not a joke. Why are you so mad anyway?”

His response made your blood boil.

“Gray.. are you kidding me? What do you think I DID all this shit for?!”

Gray looked down, maybe he was wrong after all. Maybe you did like him for real.

“I.. I don’t know. I’m just not sure, I-”

You scoffed.

“So you decide to test me? No, honestly. Fuck you. I’m done being the only person making the damn effort in this.. whatever the fuck this is! Go enjoy you fucking date by the way. I hope you treat them real sweet.”

Gray gulped. Watching your raging figure slam the door to his face. Literally in his mind, he will be like. ‘God. What have I done?’

ben park / park humin

It happened on your birthday.

Ben and the rest of the boys had been preparing for weeks to plan out the perfect birthday surprise for you.

Imagine their shock, when you walked in. With a girl, that only Alex could identify as one of Ben’s friend back in middle school, in tears.

You point at Ben, then shove the girl in front of you.

“Repeat what you just told me.”

The girl began to cry harder.

Everyone is now dead silent. They couldn’t even dare utter a sound. Not when you look like you could split someone in half if they even dare interrupt you.

“B-ben.. I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry, I told her- I can’t-“

Perhaps the situation couldn’t get any worse than you dragging Ben’s possible ex into your surprise party, who by the way is still crying profusely.

No. No, the situation just went from bad, to actual shit.

Ben moved to hold the girl’s wrist, contemplating on what’s the best action to do. Alex stared in shock, and you laughed in disbelief when Ben wiped the girl’s tears with his hand.

“So, it was true?”

“Y/N, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But it’s not cool that you’re hurting my friends.”

Drops of tears fell from your eyes as you could do nothing but chuckle bitterly.

“Ah.. you don’t know, huh? You two made out on our bed, remember? All the while I was working my ass off on that shitty internship JUST TO SURPRISE YOU ON YOUR SHITTY ASS BIRTHDAY!!”

Everyone in the room felt their heart drop at your words. Their heart aching with you. Eugene was the first to speak.

“N-no way.. You wouldn’t, would you, Big Ben..?”

His eyes widened when Ben didn’t reply, the clench of his jaw was clear enough for an answer.

“You’re lying.. how could you- to y/n..”

Before he could finish his words, Alex marched and sent his fist flying over to Ben’s jaw. Honestly, he would be so disappointed.

Everyone would be.

Not only did he break your heart, but he would also break their trust.

(later that night, Alex would come and approach you with a small cupcake and a single candle to still celebrate your birthday anyway. Despite everything that happened that day, he still wants you to at least have a nice memory about your birthday to remember it by)

donald na / na baekjin

“So, that’s the whole story. I’m not asking for your permission. I’m just letting you know.”

You two were sitting in his living room. Donald called you over for something and it sounded important so you rushed over immediately.

For a second there, you thought he was going to break up with you.

But after hearing what he just told you, perhaps him breaking up with you would be tremendously better than whatever this is.

You sat there in silent. Trying to process what he just said.

“So you’re saying that, you.. you’re welcoming another girl. Into our relationship?”

“Yes, technically. It’s just for financial purposes though, you will still have all of my heart.”

Your eyes began to water in disbelief. You feel yourself struggling to breathe as a strong desire to scream fell onto you.

“What the fuck.. What the fuck, Donald?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU FUCKING DID?!!”

Donald sighed, hands brushing through his hair.

“I can’t just avoid my responsibilities, y/n. I’m not going to end up like him.”

Your tears free fall down your face when he said those words. The trust you build this whole relationship crumbled in an instant.

“You disgust me..!”

Donald couldn’t stop you as you ran to leave his apartment.

He stared at the spot you were seated on before you left. That’s right, you left. Because of him.

He laughed bitterly, perhaps losing you was all his bad karma piled up into one for not being a good person.

jake ji / ji hakho

You and Jake sat across each other at the dinner table.

You’re trembling in anger as you try to regulate your breathing. While Jake drops his head in guilt and shame.

“What was that?”

He shakes his head, biting his lips as the tears threaten to return.

Had enough, you slammed the table before you.

“NO? YOU DIDN’T THINK I WOULD FIND OUT SOONER OR LATER?! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!”

Jake looked up at you, eyes red and swollen from crying the entire night. You’ve never raised your voice at him. Never.

“I fucking hate you.”

He looks at you, hurt in his eyes. In a normal occurrence, you would go over to his side and pull him into your arms. But right now you could only look at him in disdain.

“Don’t say that.. I love you-“

“You can’t say you love me after doing that last night. Just-“

You bit your tongue, feeling the anger returning.

“You were perfect before last night, Jake. I hope you don’t break the next one like you did me.”

“Y/N..”

He stood from his seat to try and stop you from leaving. But it’s all done. You left. And it was all his fault.

dean kwon / kwon hyukjin

You sat in a daze, staring at your phone. You heard Dean mumbling something, but you couldn’t care enough to listen.

“How long has it been?”

You heard him sigh, trying to reach for your hands.

“Look, I can explain-“

“How long has it been?”

You looked up at him, a hard expression on your face. Dean looked at you with slightly watery eyes, shaking his head in defeat.

“I don’t.. I’m sorry.”

“You’re.. sorry? What was it—that you don’t count? That you don’t remember? Tell me, Dean. Is it that easy for you to apologise after you made a FUCKING FOOL out of me?!”

Dean couldn’t dare to look at you afterwards. His gaze affixed to the tabletop.

He could hear your breathing became increasingly more ragged, trying to contain your anger.

Dean braced himself for you to shout at him again. Or maybe even hit him. He would deserve it. A whole lot more than a hit, actually.

Instead, all you did was took the necklace he gave you on your anniversary off. And the spare key to his apartment out, placed upon the table.

“If it was my heart, Dean, I could let it go more easily. But you broke so much more than that.”

Dean is not one to regret much of the decisions that he makes in life. But the image of losing you will probably stay burned forever in the back of his mind.

wolf keum / keum seongje

Wolf noticed it again today. Every time you guys caught eyes of each other in the corridors, you would look away from him instantly.

You have been avoiding him.

What’s insufferable about Wolf is that; he doesn’t realise what he did was wrong. Or if he has an idea of it, he doesn’t think of it as a big deal.

So when he called you out from your class, you could already feel the blood rushing to your brain.

“You have been avoiding me.”

You pursed your lips, refusing to look at him.

“What did I do wrong? Are we not going to talk anymore?”

You know that moment when you’re so frustrated that you want to start crying? That’s how it feels at that moment.

“So you think sleeping with another person on our bed is normal?”

“Is it about that girl from last time? Noona, I told you nothing happened.”

“It’s not about how ‘nothing happened’, Wolf! How would you feel if you come home to another guy holding me in our sleep?!”

Wolf felt himself tense at the thought.

“I wouldn’t like that.”

Then he caught your incredulous expression.

“You’re angry.”

“Oh my god.. Of course I am! YOU DESENSITISED MORON!”

A few kids from your class has come out to check on the commotion in the hallway. Normally you would be the reasonable one and just back away from conflicts, but this has happened times too much.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Look, Wolf. Maybe.. we’re just not right for each other.”

“Noona..”

“Don’t. Please.. go back to class, Wolf.”

A mixture of emotions ran through Wolf’s body. He felt hurt, shocked, confused. But just mostly empty.

You were a part of him. An exception in his life that he cherish more than anything.

He will blame himself heavily on how things end up and try to better himself. Like he will actually try.

If you notice, he could only hope that you will take him back.

[nexuswaves]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

respond to the prompts out of character!

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? Currently all of my muses such as Astarion, Dean & Bruce Wayne all have a personal connection to me in some way. Hence why they are so accurate. That sounds like bragging my bad. Anyway, they either draw on my life experience in connection that way or emotions. I love these characters so much. But tbh my Halsin account breaks the normal quota, and I’m testing him out.

is there anything you don’t like to write? The usual stuff, heavy topics. Personally, when I Roleplay Ascendant Astarion, while we do know his tendencies I have my own little twist so he doesn’t harm his lover. That’s a little detail ✨. I’m very flexible in terms of writing, but honestly just don’t be fucking weird?

is there anything you really enjoy writing? Angst, fluff, romance, action, adventure, sometimes smut, au’s i could go on.

how do you come up with headcanons? I make shit up and half the time it makes sense. Sometimes it comes to me in class or at work, or I just sit there and it writes itself out.

do you write in silence or do you play music? Both. Depends if I’m too lazy to turn on my Xbox to play music.

do you plan your replies or wing them? My ass wings that shit all the fucking time. 9 times outta 10 it makes a good reply.

do you enjoy shipping? Yes, but I’m picky. Build a bond ooc and ic and see what happens.

what’s your alias/name? Harley/Harls but for certain individuals like Sarah they can call me my old Alias.

age? 25 (send help).

birthday? In October that’s all you get.

favourite colour? Black, White (shut up they are colours), Blue & Red.

favourite song? Every fucking Hollywood Undead song ok.

last movie you watched? Cant remember but let’s go with a classic movie Zombieland

last show you watched? Lucifer (again) and Twin Paranormal on YouTube

last song you listened to? I fell in love with the Devil (Avril Lavigne)

favourite food? Alfredo 🤤

favourite season? Spring / Fall. Fuck summer and fuck winter

do you have a tumblr best friend? In this fandom? I hope I have made a few decent friends, but in other verses yes. I've a few good buddies there that I adore.

Tagging: anyone!

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 28

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 28: A Celebration of Life

Chapter Summary: Steve gets an early birthday present, and reflects on good things past and present.

Chapter Word Count: 4342

A/N: This frigging chapter. It took some work but I’m finally pretty happy with it, and I hope you all have fun with it too. Warning for the very end: there is a section marked ~extra~ that goes into third person, present tense from an outside perspective. It was a little experiment and if you don’t like it I don’t think you have to read it since it is slightly divorced from what this fic is actually about, but…it does hint at something that will come up again in the future. Not any time soon, judging by how much work this chapter took, but… :3 Anyways. Enjoy!

~

Watching Pepper on the phone was an…experience.

Steve was doing some Avengers stuff in the training room and he was late so I ended up waiting in one of the upper floors, because apparently leaving to chill at a coffee shop was ‘weird’ and ‘anti-social’ and the day Tony Stark got to brag about being a better-adjusted human being was the day I bit off my own tongue. So there I was, drink in hand, with Pepper for company, while Pepper was still technically working. Or something.

What could have been an unbearably awkward situation though became a masterclass in how a functional adult handled a difficult phone call. At least, I assumed it was difficult. I sort of hoped it was difficult because if this was what she had to deal with normally that was fucked. I tried not to stare, and she was far enough away, (in this giant room bigger than most city apartments), that words filtered in and out, and she danced the line between patient and patronizing in a way her voice kind of masked but her facial expressions betrayed. It was kind of hilarious, at points, but eventually her expression relaxed, her shoulders sank, and she said, “Thank you,” in a way only the truly tired could, and after a few more pleasantries she lowered the phone, let out a heavy sigh, and detoured back to grab something from the fridge before she came back to the sitting area.

“I am so sorry about that,” she said and fell back onto the chair next to me.

“Oh, no, don’t be–” I said and waved her off, only realizing that was my drink hand just before I could slosh liquid onto a couch that probably cost more than my rent, and quickly settled back down. “I’m sorry for crashing.” I could only bite my tongue so far though. “However, no offense, but Tony Stark doesn’t get to be right about anything, ever, if I have a say in it.”

“That’s the only right way to deal with him,” she agreed. She popped the tab on her can, whatever was inside fizzed, and she took a long drink. Even that looked refined when she did it. She breathed a sigh of relief. “In any case, I have most of his birthday sorted, so that’s one thing off my plate.”

I nodded. Tony Stark’s birthday would be a huge to-do– wait. “Wait.” Wait. “Didn’t…didn’t he just have a birthday?”

“I start planning well in advance,” Pepper said. She gave me a very tired look. “Do you have any idea how hard he is to shop for?”

“God I can only imagine,” I said, because even without the obscene amount of money…yeah. I had decided to err on the side of liking Tony Stark, (especially after he had that PR ‘snafu’ for going off on that asshole who had been snarkily homophobic about Steve), but he was, and probably always would be, A Lot. “That must be nice to have it all set up though. I just barely found something for Steve’s birthday.”

Pepper got a look on her face that felt familiar. Though whether that was a ‘Steve’ grimace or a ‘another fucking gift-giving holiday’ grimace I was a little unsure of. “Speaking of people hard to shop for…” She sighed and rubbed her head.

I could sympathize. Hardcore. “If you really want to get him something he’d be fine even with a nice message on a pretty card.”

She gave me a ‘seriously?’ look, so I said, “Seriously.” And I (seriously) thought about it. “Heartfelt can be hard though, so I get it. But he really isn’t fussy. Charity donation in his name? A ‘get out of PR jail free’ card the next time he pisses off Fox News?”

She seemed to consider it, but then shook her head. “What did you get him?”

I puffed up, because my gift was awesome. “Concert tickets for an act and opener he’s going to love, and I’ve planned out dinner at a place he hasn’t been to yet.” It was torture to have to wait on the second one, but it was going to be worth it. Pepper was right; Steve was awful to buy for and always insisted he didn’t need anything and I was about to score ‘best girlfriend ever’ points for at least a month. I could only hope the memory of this birthday would help ease the sting of the future gifts I was inevitably going to whiff it on.

“That sounds wonderful,” Pepper said. Calculating. I did not like that. “How good are the tickets?”

Yeah, I really didn’t like that. “They’re perfect.”

She smiled deviously. “I bet I can get you better ones.”

“Nuh uh, paws off,” I said and mimed smacking her hands away. “This is my gift. You go get your own.”

She faked a heavy sigh– the smile gave her right away. “Any suggestions?”

I shrugged. “Are there any art things going on?”

It was a sort of flippant suggestion– she seemed like a fancy, in-the-know lady, and fancy, in-the-know ladies would know about stuff like art shows. However, I realized we both understood it for the surprisingly good suggestion it was at the same time. A part of me was a little bummed I hadn’t thought to bank that for myself for another time. A bigger part of me though was pretty happy to look smart in front of Pepper Potts. Also being helpful to Steve’s friends was nice or whatever.

And by the near-glow of her eyes, she already had a good idea, which was going to be good for Steve, so I couldn’t be too upset about it. “That. Is genius.”

I shrugged and tried not to smile as hard as I wanted to. “I try.”

“Do you know what kind of art he likes best?” she asked, whipping out her phone and tapping at the screen with furious purpose.

“He varies a lot and I haven't delved into his absolute favorites yet,” I admitted. It seemed to change by the week sometimes. “He posts some stuff on social media and goes around there liking things. Though if I could say one thing, I would advise you to be careful of abstract. Some of it he really likes and some of it he really fucking hates and I have no idea where that line is.”

“It’s okay; this– I think he’ll like this. It’ll be a little early but…” she said and beamed at me as she held the phone up to her ear. ‘Thank you!’ she mouthed and walked off before starting a whole new conversation.

I shrugged and leaned back against the couch. Since it involved Steve, I’d probably find out why she seemed so excited soon enough.

~

A few days later counted for soon enough. “So,” Steve said, fake-casual as he slid onto the couch next to me. Why he bothered trying to attempt casual with that barely-suppressed grin on his face, I could not fathom.

“So,” I said and kissed him, because he really was too cute to resist sometimes.

“So,” he repeated, but slipped his arm behind me and cupped my hip in a way that told me we could continue that line of activities later. “Pepper got me two tickets to an art gallery I’ve been looking forward to,” he said, focusing again. “Opening night of a new exhibit. Would you come with me?”

“That sounds great,” I said. “Pepper doesn’t want to go with you?”

“She’ll be there, but she said she’s going to be networking,” Steve said. “This way we can come and go whenever we want. I’ve been to a couple of showings; most of the time the people there are too snooty to care about Captain America hanging around, but I’ve seen previews of the pieces that are going to be there and they look amazing…”

Steve continued to go on about some of the artists and that somehow led to lighting and negative space and tonality and I sort of lost the thread after a while but I couldn’t help it– interesting though it was, it was more interesting to watch him go off into his own little world, smiling so easily as he talked about art education videos he was watching and he was just so happy that I couldn’t help but stare at him and soak it all in.

When he took a moment to go to the bathroom, I snuck out my phone and opened up my text log with Pepper.

Me: A++++ gift giving he’s going to be excited all the way to it Pepper: Thank you for the excellent idea Pepper: I hope I’ll see you there? Me: Definitely

“Who are you texting?” Steve asked as he sat back down and pulled my legs into his lap.

“Pepper. I was just telling her she did a great job with your gift,” I said and put my phone down.

“Really?” He let out a sigh of relief. “I was afraid I was boring you already.”

“I like hearing you talk about it,” I said. “I like hearing you happy and excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s almost like I care about you or some bullshit.”

“Well that can’t be right,” Steve said, but he was smiling too hard to be serious. “You have a reputation and all.”

“Damn right I do,” I said, and opened my arms. “Now get over here and ruin it.”

His grin was a little more wicked for what I had meant by that but, well.

I definitely didn’t mind his definition of ruin.

~

Art parties had pretty great food.

Well, this one did. The drinks were a little substandard but I kept an eye on the waiters with the finger platters at almost all times as I wandered around with Steve who, true to his prediction, did not get glommed on at all. I also watched for snootiness but everything felt really oddly chill and relaxed and…nice. It wasn’t as fancy as I had feared, but it definitely still cleaved to the nice side, and we had dressed up accordingly, but everyone really did seem to be there for the art, which was also pretty awesome.

And then there was Steve. He mostly stuck by me as we wandered from piece to piece, and whenever the artist was around and willing to talk with him, he always took the chance. So far he had a hundred percent success rate in surprising them by actually knowing his shit, and that was kind of vindictively fun to watch. I hadn’t paid attention to the theming and was at the point where I was too embarrassed to ask, but it seemed like a new art take on classic pieces and movements of the past. Leyendecker through a Warhol lens which had a companion piece of Warhol but make it like Leyendecker. Art deco graffiti. Alphonse Mucha if his seasons were made in the era of global warming.

So it was pretty fantastic. And we even got to hang out with Pepper for a little bit, the three of us stealing away to a corner with a small pile of pilfered snacks and drinks.

“You really do find the best hideouts,” Pepper told me appreciatively.

“I take my duties as resident miser very seriously,” I said, and tried not to beam too much at the compliment. Steve was grinning at me though, and when Pepper was distracted by saying hi to someone, I threw a napkin at his face.

“I saw that,” she said, but with a wicked smirk. She then stood up and straightened the end of her form-fitting dress. “Steve, have you seen the hallway gallery yet?”

Steve and I both peered where she was gesturing; a very wide hallway with good lighting that not many people were going down now. “Not yet,” he said as we both sat back.

She smiled cryptically. “I think you should. There’s a really great artist– well, several of course, but there’s one with a piece in particular that I…I think you might like.”

She escaped with a quick farewell, and I munched on the last of the snacks. “Mysterious,” I said once I was dusting my hands of the crumbs.

Steve stood and held his hand to me. “Let’s go find out, Watson.”

I scoffed, but took his hand. “I’m way more of a social disaster than you,” I said as we walked. “I should get to be Sherlock.”

“Solving mysteries seems like a lot of work though,” he said.

“True,” I admitted.

We meandered leisurely down the hallway, looking at each art piece and leaving the scarce few people behind as we went. I remembered briefly looking down this area at the start of the night and thinking, ‘Nope,’ with the ridiculous amount of people that had been down here before, but apparently they had all seen what there was to see, leaving us to enjoy it practically on our own.

“This is nice–” I suddenly bumped into Steve. “Oof!” I quickly backed up a few steps and he remained. Stock still. “Steve?” I asked, but he was staring up at the wall to my right, his expression stricken, and I turned to see what had him by the metaphorical throat. It was a mural, massive, and it took me a second for it to all come into view. When it did, when the image of a man with a very familiar visage fell into place, all I could manage was a soft, “Oh.”

“Bucky,” Steve said in an awed exhalation. I looked from him, to the painting, and back and forth again. He seemed to be taking it all in and I had nothing I could think to say, so I did much the same. It was a beautiful work of art; colors faded seamlessly together and words of varying sizes acted as modified stippling to create the whole image of one James Buchanan Barnes, larger than life like a comic book hero, but with a serious set to his face, wearing the iconic jacket, and fading out where it looked like he’d be holding a gun in his arms.

After several minutes of utter silence, I tentatively rubbed Steve’s arm. He flinched a little, but gave me a small, slightly twisted smile. “Sorry,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing.”

He huffed a laugh, but his eyes looked a little wet and he blinked furiously. “It’s…I’m sorry; it’s…”

I squeezed his arm. “Hey,” I said softly. “It’s okay. It’s always okay and it’s always going to be okay.”

He swallowed and sniffled, but through sheer stubbornness did not let go of one single manly tear. Crying in public did suck though, so I wasn’t about to give him a hard time about it. I rubbed his arm up and down as comfortingly as I could, trying to help, and he moved slightly to take the hand I wasn’t using. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” he admitted softly, and gave me a weak smile.

“I know,” I said softly. I would have kissed him if I could have gotten away with it, but someone was walking down the hall towards us, so all I could manage was a brief but tight squeeze of his hand before I let go entirely, and he visibly tried to brace himself for the oncoming interaction.

“Hello!” a breathless woman said as she approached. She looked young but carried herself confidently, dressed in a stylish combination of pants, half-skirt, and suit-top, with locs in a beautiful half up-do that framed her face and cascaded down past her shoulders. “I was told there was someone who–”

As soon as she saw Steve, a lot of that confidence just evaporated and she froze with kind of an ‘urk!’ look on her face. As the seconds ticked on and Steve didn’t (probably couldn’t) speak, I squared up and hoped I wasn’t going to make a mess of things. I cleared my throat. “Are you the artist?” I asked. She looked at me, still a little frozen, but she managed a jerky nod and pulled her shoulders down from her ears. “It’s beautiful,” I said as emphatically as I could.

She seemed a little reassured, but her eyes flicked back to Steve, who was looking at it again. He swallowed and managed to look at her, a small smile on his face. “Absolutely amazing,” he said.

She exhaled such a long breath that I had to bite my hand not to laugh, while Steve was startled into doing just that. “I’m so sorry,” she said and waved her hand, relaxing a lot more as she walked closer. “My brother told me someone was standing over here but he didn’t mention who, and when I saw you, I wasn’t sure if it was uh…offensive?”

“In your brother’s defense, no one’s come that close so he probably didn’t get a good look at me,” Steve said, still a little dreamy as he looked at the picture. After a second though he frowned and looked at the woman, more focused. “Why would it be– it’s not offensive; it’s incredible. And I mean technically too; the way you…”

He drew closer to her, talking about the art itself, and she snapped into being a professional, talking to him, explaining the piece that was part of a series on the Howling Commandos, and I stepped back to let them have at it. I couldn’t keep from looking at the art itself again. I tried to imagine how I would think, if it was of Steve, if Steve had– but…I didn’t really want to think of that, right now, in the middle of what was actually Pepper’s birthday gift to him, meant to mark his life.

Though, I thought and tilted my head to see it from another angle, what a life. To make such a mark on the world that this many years after he was gone, an artist, a complete stranger, would spend however many hours of her life putting forth the effort to try and make him as large as the legacy he left behind.

Steve was right. It was pretty amazing.

~

We stayed there until it was time for the gallery to close. Though Steve had made sure he had all of the artist’s socials, and her website where he could see the picture any time he wanted, he still seemed to be soaking in the presence of the piece itself. So I felt a little like a jerk that I was getting sleepy, and I leaned into him to try and relinquish some of the energy used in standing straight to focus on appearing as awake as I could. He leaned into me in return, and I looked up at him. His expression was…peaceful. A little happy, even, and he glanced over at me and smiled a little more.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

I was more curious about what was going on in his head, but I wondered if even he knew. I still didn’t know how I would really feel if someone I loved so dearly was now being immortalized by strangers in giant murals, gone long enough to have become simply part of a story long past. Steve was here, and alive, and I was grateful for every moment of that, every turn of his life that led him here, that I didn’t want to think of the other way it could have easily been.

So I snuggled in and asked, maybe a little quietly, “Is it weird if I say your boyfriend was pretty cute?”

That probably could have gone badly, I thought in a way too belated realization, but Steve snorted and clamped his hand over his mouth as he tried to get a handle on it. Eventually he breathed deep, but the smile stayed strong. “He was very handsome,” he agreed and shot me a little smirk. “He would have corrected you with that.” Steve shook his head. “God, the two of you…I don’t know if I’d’ve survived that.”

I rested my head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand. “You probably would have been fine,” I said. “I would have been hard on him too. Sharing a boyfriend doesn’t get you any free passes. Just ask Peggy.”

He snorted, then looked abashed. “Fair enough.” He looked around. “Let me just snap a quick picture of this and then we’ll head out, all right?”

“Of course,” I said and took a few steps back to make sure I was out of the way. Steve took several shots, some from different angles, and then started to slip his phone back into his pocket when he suddenly stopped, and looked at me. “Hey,” he said. “Can I take a picture of you in front of it too?”

I leaned my head to one side and looked at it again. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Past and present; I just…really like the idea.”

“Sap,” I said, but my heart melted faster than an ice cube in July and I went to stand in front of the picture. I didn’t know how to pose, but after a moment considered how well Steve had taken my joke about how attractive Bucky was and– what the hell. I turned my back to the subject, clasped my hands in front of my face, bent one leg behind me, and threw the most coquettish look over my shoulder I could muster.

Steve snorted so hard, and took so long to regain his composure, I started tilting from my poorly-thought-out balance before he finally snapped a photo he was happy with. “You’re terrible,” he said with an out-and-out grin as I rejoined him.

“You love it,” I said and stood as close as I dared, even with the event winding down.

Steve showed no concern for any of that, and wrapped his arms around me. “I really do,” he murmured and snuck a soft, but lingering kiss.

~

~extra~

The picture causes a sense of overwhelming echoes in the back of the mind. It makes him want to break something.

He doesn’t. Someone spent time and effort and this isn’t his and this isn’t him. Not really. Not anymore. He sighs and relaxes his shoulders, and checks the time absently. The security guard won’t make it over here for at least another twenty minutes, and he intends to be long gone by then.

He should be gone now, and yet he stays. James. Barnes. Bucky. They don’t feel quite right anymore, fitting better the unreal image in front of him, and yet still he keeps them, like a familiar old coat gone too tight at the shoulders but too sentimental in value to throw out. In any case he refuses to be the Asset or the Soldier, and he can’t think of another name he would choose otherwise, and so he…keeps them. Just in case they fit right again.

He can’t wait to be out of New York though. He thought it would help, maybe bring things into focus, but those old memories come with flashes of pain, like when they were forced out of him, and he has to grit his teeth against every flinch they bring. He only wanted to come and check on…Steve. Because Steve is, was, always has been, the one thing that matters, and as hard as it has been keeping him ignorant of the ‘Soldier’s’ identity, the one thing that makes it easy is imagining the look on Steve’s face if he realizes what Bucky became.

That fight. It still hurts to think of; makes him wince. It’s better now than it was at the time though. At the time he fought through what felt like double-vision, a face ghosting over the one in front of him, and then to complicate things, the Target, the Mission, was competent in ways he had never known before; every hit matched, blow for blow, the Asset’s implacable strength against the Captain’s unyielding resolve.

And then.

“I can do this all day.”

And he had cracked in two. Six little words had broken him entirely, backup had arrived, and the Asset-not-but-yes had…fled.

But not back to his masters.

The months thereafter were (are) a haze of repressed memories, repressed nightmares, repressed…everything. But without constant conditioning and punishment, he had managed to pull himself back into the shadow of a person. And now he…

He breathes slowly, and finds himself holding his forehead again. He shakes away the pain, stands tall, and looks back to the museum entrance where he had watched Steve leave. With his date. With his partner. And it…hadn’t made him violent, like he feared it might.

Steve is happy. Genuinely happy in a way that makes Bucky nearly relax with relief, and the hurt isn’t as bad as it could be. He’s taking care of and being taken care of in return, and the jealousy and anger Bucky was prepared to have to deal with is just an empty space. This is good. This is better for everyone.

He sighs and checks his watch. Time to go. He has a tip that the redhead has not managed to sniff out yet (Jesus Christ she’s like a bloodhound sometimes) and he’s left another trail for them to pick up on while he follows this because, no offense lady, but this one is a lot more personal and he is actually looking forward to tracking this particular ‘head’ down so he can kick it right in the teeth.

Steve has a life. A good life. And he has a chance to live it now. He’ll handle cleaning up the small fries, and come home at the end of the day. Bucky will continue to take care of the worst of it. As he has. As he should.

He turns, and leaves the image of James Buchanan Barnes in the past. Where he belongs.

~

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[emomanswhore]

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟPRESENTING 〔 🌠 〕 BAKI-DAY ‘22 !! ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

. .★. 112022 . .★.

HAPPY 20th ─⊹⊱✰⊰⊹─ BAKI .! ↻ .! @TOUYYES

SO it is my baby’s birthday today 😋 my prettiest, special lil twinky dinky @touyyes ! orrr whom y’all better know as baki ! before i start my lil speechy speech, MAKE SURE YALL GO SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY. it’s not just any birthday either,, my baby made it to 20 YEARS OLD. tbh,, that’s old as hell 😟 buuutttt she a lil cute or whatever. so i guess it’s okay that baki has OFFICIALLY departed from the teens. so yeah, pretty please go stop by her inbox n scream happy birthday 🎈🎂🎊

to my dearest princess, baki … 💌🧁🍓

TODAY IS YOUR DAYYY MAANNNN ITS OFFICIALLY BADDIE SEASON NOW THAT YOUR DAY HAS FINALLY COME 💋🦂 !! how you feeling?? hope you feeling good and your special day is good, well, and fun !! as if i literally don’t know what you're doing rn so ! even though we are a whole ass continent apart and im not able to give you a physical gift- i wanted to give you a lil' serenade and tell you some stuff, that's coming straight from the heart 🤍💕 (and coochie so if i say some fruitcake shit.… i did go in heat momentarily arrooo 🅰️🅱️🅾️)

it's not only your birthday today- BUT ! it also our one year anniversary!! (we not gon count those few months prior that we met, cuz im tryna be romantic and cute rn 🛌) - a WHOLEASS YEAR, LIKE ?? has time gone by incredibly fast, or is it just me? but with spending this past year with you, i've come to learn so much abt you ! whether that's the deep hyperfixation on things you'll periodically get n then get over, your love for the sea n swimming, or even down to the lil things that make up your personality!

in my eyes, you really are like a star ! so dazzling, bright, and the way you shine brings everyone in and makes them INSTANTLY attracted to you 💫 from your charm, to your outgoing and cool nature, and to how fucking hilarious you are. like istg i've literally never had anyone match the same energy as me, and deadass make my lungs clatter and collapse into my stomach from how hard i laugh 🐽💥 speaking of matching energy, man,, i cant even use certain emojis unironically no more cuz we ruined the meaning of them, with the dumbass lil emoji combos we came up with

it's crazy how i can't do certain things without thinking of you. literally rent free in my damn mind, and it's literally cuz we talk damn near everyday 🤕 like if i go even a full 24 hours without talking to you, it's very obvious that im sad n not in a good mood. bitch you literally have me in a chokehold and this shit doesn’t seem to be coming apart anytime soon 🧎🏽‍♀️🕳⛓ if you wanted someone who’s gonna be obsessed with you for the rest of your life, congratulations. cuz i don’t plan on ever letting you go, and you are MINE forever 😋🩸🪓 (possessive alpha mode grrr ruff ruff)

i could literally go on and brag about you for the rest of my life fr. like words can never truly express the amount of adoration and love i have for you. like i literally see MYSELF in you— that could be from us sharing so many common interests, or to the way we come up with crazy ass (delusions) headcanons of our bfs. you’ve become the biggest supporter and lover in my world ! even now with me recently starting to seriously write, you’ve had my back all the way through it. helping me proofread, giving me ideas n suggestions, and all around helping me feel confident n happy with my work !! 💗

i could never thank you enough, and express the full gratitude n appreciation i have for you. just YOU— n im so lucky that you’ve come into my life and made every day so much better. november gave me the best things,, it was the month you were brought into this world, and eventually the month that has made us as close as we are now ! 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💕

baki, you are the light of my life. my partner in crime, my wifey and the twinkling little star that i always look forward to seeing. the stacy to my chellery, and actual love of my life. i love you so very much, and i can’t wait to celebrate our special month of november next year, the year after that, and the future years that i plan to spend with you 🤍 💍

HAAAPPPYY BIRRTHHDDAAYYY STAAYYCEE !!

[strawberryjamsara]

I haven't fully read a father's world yet but I would like to hear your thoughts about chapters 9 and 10

Ah… Sara’s birthday from the outsiders perspectives…

So I started Keiji’s chapter with a flashback that wasn’t in the game. I’d put it somewhere around day 3, after the intensity of the Sou confrontation has worn off.

It mostly exists because I needed a reason for Keiji and Gin to know it was Sara’s birthday but I think it helped show a lot of what was lost. Gin Sara and Keiji, a found family that fell apart, not only because Sara gave herself up, but because Keiji chose to be absent from Gin’s life.

Then there’s the whole sharper than he liked comment on Keiji’s part about Sara when she points out his bad cooking. While it’s a simple thing about his bad cooking skills it also highlights how she can see through him emotionally and has pulled some of his secrets out of him, despite his initial hopes of using her as a pawn and… Ugh. Keiji. I love fucked up men.

And Kai… fucking Kai. I don’t really have all the time to touch on Kai in this fic since he’s dead (but I have a friend @datastate who’s working on a fic where Kai is alive for bad end so look forward to that) but at this point in the game Sara still probably doesn’t know who Kai is, but, she’s learned about his presence in her life not as a stalker and that he’s just gone and she can’t ask anything and what about meals, was he in charge of those, if so shouldn’t she take charge? Because she’s always taking charge of that stuff.

Cut to present day. The death game is over, Sara is gone, and if Keiji was having a self-destructive spiral before the death game occured, it’s increased tenfold with all the new things he holds guilt for. He’s still working on a quest to save Sara (that he knows won’t amount to much. He’s just doing it as a self inflicted repentance.) and part of that repentance is giving her something on her birthday.

There’s really not much to it, since Keiji isn’t financially well off, and of course he feels guilty for that too. He’s so in need of punishing himself for any transgression. So the Sara hallucination appears.

The Sara hallucination was a planned part of the story since before I wrote the first chapter, and it sort of gets hard sometimes since I don’t want the Sara to take up more spotlight than Mr Policeman. They’re both traumatic things he feels guilt for. But yeah, this chapter is about Sara and she’s the sole one who shows up here to celebrate her party, and give out all the worst case scenarios Keiji might be thinking because yeah. He really has no idea what’s going on. He’s just creating horrible scenarios in his head.

Happy birthday Sara! Onto Gins chapter!

So again, with Qtaro, it’s hard to get him in focus in this fic with him being dead and all, but I thought Gin comparing Shin to him was a good idea, because Qtaro also wasn’t the best to Gin at first, but Gin stuck by him.

Still Gin is having trouble coping with Shin. He isn’t stupid. He knows he set up the monitor with Joe. And he knows there’s people dead because of him. And he also knows that part of the reason Sara made her decision was because if the death game went on people (including herself) could die and there was one person preaching death to all.

But still, he’s a good kid, a kid full of love, and if Shin is trying shouldn’t he give him a chance? Especially if his mom insists?

Side note but despite the running gag of Gin accusing Shin of fucking his mom I did not intend for that to be any more than a kid letting his imagination run wild.

But Gin also doesn’t want to cause trouble for his mom is something I make abundantly clear in this chapter. We see in the game how Gin clearly wants to help everyone and runs into danger, and how he hates being treated like a little kid, that he wants to be seen as someone strong who can help his mom. He shouldn’t have to because he’s just a kid, but he doesn’t have the best home life what with his drunken dad, so he thinks he should step up as the “man” of the house.

Oh and he’s also extra making sure now because he accidentally signed his moms life away to Asunaro. His good intentioned want to help her was twisted into having to follow them for her safety and because of that he’s extra paranoid, and extra sure he wants to help. Again, it’s not fair on a child but it’s what he wants.

Nana is trying her best but (as shown in later chapters) she doesn’t truly understand the scope of her child’s problems. She wants to, and she honestly does the best she can, but she has no idea what the death game was like, and she’s mainly focused on caring and providing as much as possible, and she’s especially keeping a close eye now that he’s left the death game, which is good, Nana is a good mother, but Gin isn’t happy.

And then telling Shin it’s Sara’s birthday… Shin is still unsure how to feel about the… concept of Sara. Sara has still not quite registered to him as a human being. The death game had him in hatred mode, slowly coming to an understanding, before she sacrificed herself, and then the “Kanna was my sister” reveal threw a wrench in his trying to reconcile with her… but Gin wants this! Make the kid happy!

Of course Shin still is just a person, and not a baker for that matter, so most he can provide is a premade kit, not what Gin wants. It sorta stings, and Gin blames it on Shin’s hatred of Sara. And okay, sure, you could maybe say that, but that’s not all that’s at play here.

And… Gin also in a sense idolizes Keiji, even after he left him. He was the Mr Policeman, who was nice to him and Sara, not the enemy like Shin. Surely he’d be nicer. Surely he wouldn’t have left me right?

Still throughout the process Gin and Shin come to reconcile. This time when Gin brings up Sara, Shin actually makes an effort to speak and show concern instead of trying to change the subject. Gin realizes he missed Shin’s birthday and forces him to celebrate, (and also a reference to the fact the last person he celebrated with was Midori) and it shows to Shin, he’s still part of this day. Sara isn’t some christ figure to everyone who he can’t dare to walk with. She was a person.

It’s also significant how everyone thinks Sara has no birthday party, but she does, and it, much like everything else is a way to manipulate her. Her birthday is when she finally ‘gives in’ to her father and accepts that she ‘should be happy with what she has’ which I think is a much worse fate than having no party :,)

Anyways happy birthday again Sara!

[herahearsitall]

Martin’s Sofa

Martins place holds a lot of memories, this song talks us through Headies thoughts and memories. Obviously I can’t mind read or understand all that he is saying but this is the ‘movie’ my mind played from the lyrics. My own take on Martin’s sofa.

He’s driving a bang up car that basic as fuck with a seatbelt that doesn’t fasten, left back door is forever stuck close and one pothole away from the the car being a write off. It gets him on the motorway to where his final destination is though, martins home. Some may call it a trap house but we call it a bando, drugs are definitely involved. Bad life events left Headie feeling like he lost everything and feelings stressed trying to figure out the next step while sitting on the sofa that is at martins . That sofa saw him through the lows and the hight such as after his first show that done AMAZING. Martins home is the hub of Headies current job and it means staying at the depot for a while, sleeping on that same sofa. After working hard at his other craft, music, he is now famous and he hopes it stays this way and not being forced to go back to his default life, sorting out drugs and drug runs, from martins sofa.

He even works, on martins sofa, on his birthday and his birthday wish to make more money from cocaine. There is no weed at martins house as it’s not that kind of drug den. It’s boring counting constantly while not being high though. It goes round in cycles because once the drug user comes and buys the last lot then more can be made to then make more money. With that money he won’t need to be around these people because he will have someone proper drive him around.

He is claiming his intentions are good, if it was just about drugs he could make it bigger but it’s about keeping it ticking while he funds and works on his bigger plan. Buuuut…. The Crown Prosecution Service wanted Headie to get convicted with attempted murder. Eeek.

His friends see him on the up with music but still making those trips to Martins they have to ask, why are you out there making money like that? He says that he would rather go prison for selling drugs than a gun charge, if he was to get caught, because it’s less time. His music plan can still work if he is away for a shorter time. He has to be careful because courts are giving out sentences like crazy. Going to prison constantly for stupid things (or he’s being sexist by claiming women are acting foolish. I hope not)

He’s an ‘out there boy’ doing his plans to make money publicly but it’s different when he comes to the hood because he will fuck shit up. His friend got 8 years for having a gun with him, lucky no bullets but now he has to sit around in prison until he is free. Just walking through Haringey with a hammer he will easily donk on your head but to police he is just simply walking to do some diy at a loved ones home.

Keeping his education going while making money caught up with him. He was planning on doing Monday – Friday college and then hustling at the weekends, going to different county’s to earn money, but it over-lapsed and he didn’t go to college as much.

Dad was toxic and always told Headie he was useless. Bad parenting. Well DAD, if he was that useless how could he make a lot of money in Scotland on his first day travelling from the bando.

One of his bando minions came up with some bullshit about something happening causing him to lose a package of cocaine. Headie hardly had anything left and needs to get more product. He’s in the taxi, with a gun to tell this guy don’t chat shit with lies, just sort it out and get the drugs now! He lied and said all is ok, let’s just meet up at martins sofa after the guy gets all stuff he can. Remember that gun with him in the taxi, well its with Headie on martins sofa with the guy who stole the cocaine.

Oh dear, so much has been done on that sofa it’s crazy.

Headie has daily contact with cocaine, MDMA etc but he really doesn’t want to to prison for 30 years because of it. He wants to save up £30,000 and buy a watch.

He wants the drug depot days to be over but the newspaper always capture his ways and shows the world. It reminds him he is still in it too. Because of his track record if he gets caught by the police he won’t get bail, straight to prison. It’s an unsettled like and the bando aka Martins sofa is nasty, messy and smelly from the cooking. It makes him smell and the girls are not into that stench. It’s the real trenches smell and that’s not attractive.

Headie admits he does not like to lose, he doesn’t like to fail either so if it wasn’t for a song doing well, he would of quite the whole music thing as it didn’t feel it was getting him anywhere. He wasn’t making money from it but the more shows he got he couldn’t sell drugs as he was too busy.

Martins sofa has been through a lot, including private moments with a woman while Martin was not around so doesn’t know.

(The ding-dong bait, no insurance)

( I put a two and a blue with magic, I made is assemble like the avengers) I don’t know what he means by these two lyrics at all. Does anyone?

[jodilin65]

TUESDAY, MAY 31, 1994 I just typed a letter to Bob and have one ready for Kim tomorrow, too.

I don’t really feel like watching TV now. I watched a little while I ate my popcorn, though. Guess now I’ll go listen to some music or just veg out for a while till I can fall asleep.

Tomorrow I have to get blood drawn, meet Tom’s parents, and we’re also planning on videotaping me signing for the sign language program we hope to launch.

Later…

I am in the car right now, heading to get stuck. Lucky me, huh?

We’re not sure if we can see his parents cuz he called there and they said they were going out.

Yuck. I’m coughing up lots of sticky stuff.

It’s too bumpy for me to write now, so I’ll continue either in the doctor’s office or at home.

Later…

I am at the doctor’s office now. Amazingly there was one other guy only in the waiting room. He just went to get stuck first.

We’re going to KFC after. Then who knows where?

I just asked Tom if he had anything to say in here. He said nope. Not today.

Later…

I’m taping the music awards now. According to Andy, Gloria will be on at some point.

Got 3 letters from Bob today. In one of Bob’s letters, he enclosed a letter from a guy named Donald. He said he talked to him, warning him (Donald) of what’s OK and what’s not OK to write. I made a deal with Bob that anyone can write to me as long as they send their letters through Bob and never get my address. When I write them back, I’ll either write directly to them or send them to Bob to give to them. I know I can trust Bob’s judgment with this.

I got a package from Kim. She sent 2 sheets of 18 stamps. The kind you stick, rather than lick. She sent 2 boxes of envelopes. Each box contained 100 envelopes. Now we’re at a total of nearly 300 envelopes here!

Lastly, she sent 2 tapes of funny outgoing answering messages which I like a lot. I already put one on my voicemail. I duped them on Tom’s stereo and will soon send her back the originals. I’ve got to call Andy and let him know about the tapes and see if he wants to hear them. I’m sure he will. I also have to leave Kim’s address on his VM.

Later…

I just turned the VCR off and later I’ll watch the awards. I zip through 98% of it cuz most of it’s boring. Filled with people I could care less about.

Tom and I swam a lot today. It was fun. He has this plastic boat that’s broken, so it sinks. Therefore, I throw it across the pool and dive down under for it. I can open my eyes under water, but he can’t cuz of his contacts.

Still haven’t seen the van next door. I thought I heard a quick scream or two, but it kind of didn’t sound close enough to be right next door. It could’ve been anywhere, and all kids sound the same to me. They’re all one big scream in my book.

I put the pig on the little round raft and he loved it. He sat there so calmly, totally unafraid. Yes, he really does love the water.

Still no messages on Prodigy from either Tammy or Marla.

I’ll call on the 3rd to wish Becky a happy b-day. I sent a card with a $5-dollar bill. Tomorrow I’ll send out Ma’s card. Her birthday is on the 6th.

Tom called travel agencies today to get info. Only 14 more days left! Yup, in my next journal, I’ll be a married woman! Can you believe it?! I can’t fucking believe it! I never ever thought I’d see that day in my life. Maybe the next, if there is a next, but not in this one.

I think I’ll go watch the awards now.

Oh, I forgot to mention - no calls from Larry. He either gave up or tried to call when we were out but left no message. Oh well.

Later…

I just saw the awards. It was the World Music Awards. Gloria just doesn’t look as good as she did during her Let It Loose album and her Cuts Both Ways album.

I suppose I should shave my legs now, but I’m too lazy.

I saw an interesting commercial for an upcoming show on 20/20. Water births. They say it takes some of the pain and pressure off and makes it easier for the baby. Bet you gotta be rich for that. Water or no water, I can’t imagine something the size of a watermelon ripping through my crotch. Plus, I’d probably have to have a C-section anyway.

Later…

Starting another beautiful journal. This shall be the journal in which I am to be married in. Amazing!

Can’t think of anything to write about at the moment. Just that I’m going to go turn the computer off and watch TV. I expect to listen to music at some point, as well. My nails look pitiful. I better go cut those, too.

Hopefully, by tomorrow book of Letters #9 will be finished. It all depends on what I get in the mail. In the meantime, I will write later or tomorrow.

MONDAY, MAY 30, 1994 Well, it was on this day two years ago that I found out I’d be moving to Phoenix.

Today was a good one. Larry called, but I wasn’t awake enough to talk to him. I hope he catches me the next time.

Not much else happened today. We got more sawdust and some treats for Piggy, did computer work, and went swimming.

There’s no mail tomorrow cuz of Memorial Day, so hopefully Tuesday will bring me lots of mail.

They’ve been so quiet next door and they were definitely out today. Could they have gone to Idaho? I sure hope so, but I won’t count on it.

Later…

Tom got home right after I last wrote. He had quite a bit to fix on Eldon’s computer.

We just had pork chops and now I’m full.

Tomorrow’s the 102º day, so I heard, and it’s going to be a great swimming day.

Tom just said he thinks it’s best to get wedding rings after we’re married so we’ll have money for Vegas. I agree, but it would’ve been nice to have rings at the wedding. Why must love be so expensive?

Come to think of it, I think Larry’s just going to be calling, not coming to visit.

Well, there’s nothing else going on at the moment. I’m taping a movie and Tom’s eating. He’s on Prodigy now and I have my first of two loads of clothes in the dryer, which I guess he’s waiting for. I suppose I could call Prodigy to see if I have any messages from Marla or Tammy, but I doubt it. Tammy’s too busy, and Marla’s told me it may be a while.

When am I going to bed? I have no idea, but I think I’ll go listen to my music.

Tom just said he feels much better. He hadn’t eaten all day long.

Later…

Just got done swimming with Tom. It’s really hot out and the water felt so good.

He’s checking to see if the start of our sign language program works, then we’re going to have fun.

Again they’re not home next door. What luck, huh? I sure hope they split to Idaho. It’d be even nicer if they decided just how much they missed it and sold their house to a nice old couple. One with no little grandkids who hardly ever have company. No dogs, either. Hopefully, they’re cat, bird, or fish lovers instead.

Later…

The typing of #6 is going pretty fast. Within the next couple of days, I should be done with it. Then, I’ll be skipping #7 cuz I already typed it and I’ll do #8.

Swimming was lots of fun today and it was 105º today. They say it’ll be 102º tomorrow and 107º the next day. Wow! Summer’s definitely here. The pool shouldn’t be too chilly for the next handful of months. Even in the middle of the night, it will be extremely warm.

They were definitely gone all weekend as I said before. (next door) I still haven’t heard them return and I definitely think I would’ve if they were back. As the parents were unpacking, I’m sure the kids would’ve been screaming back and forth with them. I hope they’re in Idaho and seriously enjoying it.

After I let enough time go by, cuz I just took my meds, I’ll make some popcorn. Yummy!

Larry didn’t try to call back again, but Tammy said he called her. She said they only spoke for two minutes. He was in Wisconsin on his way to Colorado.

I hope I have a generous supply of mail tomorrow. Kim’s answering machine tapes, envelopes, stamps, and whatever the hell else may arrive tomorrow.

Going to go finish my coffee now.

SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1994 Tom came home early yesterday, and Andy got here shortly after. He swam a bit and we talked and he played the new Stevie single he bought on his way over here. After he left, mom and dad called and Tom and I spoke with them. It was a nice chat.

Ma says Larry’s going to be calling. Cool, but with my luck, it’ll be when Andy and I are out at yard sales.

Andy called last night with his sister Marla in California on the line. She was telling me all about her new and very impressive computer and that she’d eventually send me a message on Prodigy. Tom also talked with Marla and her husband even cuz they had lots of questions for Tom.

Andy will be calling any second to tell me he’s on his way over.

Tom’s going to go help Eldon with his computer cuz it’s trashed.

Later…

This afternoon Andy picked me up. We were out for about 3 hours. We couldn’t find any yard sales. It was kind of late for that, but we drove through some absolutely gorgeous neighborhoods.

First we went to JB’s where I ordered a pork chop dinner. It sucked so it was comped. All I got was a sundae and an iced tea.

When we couldn’t find any yard sales, we went to a pawn shop. There, I got an oldies CD and the CD Trio with Linda, Dolly and Emmylou. I have it on tape, but it’s finally nice to have it on CD. I sing a lot of the songs on that CD. At another store, I got Lush Life by Linda. Another one I only had on tape and most of those songs I enjoy singing.

Got 2 letters from Bob, 1 Bob sent Kim and 1 from Kim to me. She also surprised Andy with a letter.

When Andy and I got back here we went swimming. The pool’s the most comfortable it’s been all year so far. Andy hung out for an hour or so. I read him Bob’s letters. He also pointed out that I put the shelf up wrong that he’d given me when I was doing wall art at his place. I fixed it and I hope it holds.

Oh! Almost forgot. Got the diamond earrings my parents sent. Yes, they’re very beautiful.

No call from Larry yet. He sure won’t recognize this place. When he was last here, there were no wall drawings and that old ugly kitchen paneling was still up.

Now, I’m going to go change the batteries in my speakerphone.

Later…

Where in the world is Tom? I guess Eldon’s situation with his computer was as horrible as Tom said it was when he called him last night. Anyway, I thought he’d be back between 4:00 - 6:00, but I guess not.

Tammy says she’s back on Prodigy. She hooked it up. I’ll leave her a message maybe tomorrow. I just haven’t really felt like doing any computer work today. I’ll probably type some letters, too.

No calls from Fran. I wonder if he’s already lost his phone. If not, I’m sure it’ll be soon enough. Maybe Larry will call tomorrow, but Ma said something about Wisconsin, but that’s quite a way away.

I changed the batteries on the speakerphone. I watched some TV and there are 1 or 2 movies I’ll be taping. Tomorrow we have to get Piggy another big bail of sawdust. I mailed Becky’s birthday card out today and on the 1st I’ll mail Mom’s out. Well, I guess that’s it for now. I’ll just go veg out.

FRIDAY, MAY 27, 1994 Andy will be here any time now. Of course, he was supposed to be here two hours ago, but you know how he is. Always late.

Been back and forth from the pool all day. Getting a bit more color.

THURSDAY, MAY 26, 1994 Got a lot done today. I finished typing up #5 and then I typed all of #7. How’d I do that? Easy. It was only 20 pages or so cuz the old little #10 was recopied into #7 when I lived at the Vista Ventana. Remember? The remainder of #7 is being used for an ongoing journal chart.

I’m outside now and the weather’s gorgeous. It’s the perfect temp now. Not too cool, not too hot. It’s not very easy to write out here, though. Wish there was a table out here.

Guess Tom needs to chlorinate the pool. It’s a lovely shade of jade green.

I’m momentarily going to put the stuff I want to write about on hold.

Later…

OK, I’m going to write till Tom’s dinner is digested. Then it’s playtime for us.

Got 3 letters today from Bob and 1 from Kim. Got a total of 204 letters now and BOL #9 has 38 pages left in it now.

Andy called with Sarah on the line who’s playing Sabrina and I read her Fran’s letter. She was cracking up.

I was out bouncing my superball off the laundry room door when Tom came home. He shocked the pool.

So, their last name is M next door. A catalog came in their name. I brought it over, hoping that’d be a great opportunity to see if they’re really going to Idaho, or if they’re all talk. No one came to the door, though, cuz I doubt my knocking could be heard over all those screaming kids.

I’ve been playing another computer game Tom showed me. It’s kind of cool and lots of fun.

Later tonight I’ll begin typing #6. I thought about maybe typing up the quicker ones, though, first. What I mean by quicker ones is that there are a few with large print.

Andy and I may shoot again for going to yard sales this Saturday morning.

What am I forgetting to mention? Guess I’ve covered everything. I still can’t wait till we get new ribbons, but that’ll probably be after we’re married. There are so many pictures I want to eventually print out.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 25, 1994 Where the hell is the mail? Oh well, I guess it’s still early enough. I just stepped out to put out Bob’s letter and I saw his truck so he’s on his way. I hope he has Sabrina’s letter and letters from Bob and Kim, too. I do have more to write about, but I’m not in the mood just yet. I’ll fill you in later.

Yup, just got Sabrina’s letter which was so funny! This guy can’t spell, make any sense, and never uses any periods. Sabrina and I wrote him back and I’m sending letters to Kim and Bob. I’m going to send Fran’s letter to Kim. She’ll get a major kick out of it, then send it to Bob.

Fran left me a message for Bob’s address saying he knows people in prison where he is. I sent Bob’s address and I also sent Bob Fran’s address.

I talked with Tammy who dropped a jug of juice, stepped on it and had to get stitches in her foot. Good, God! I feel like not only did I leave the curse that was on me behind, upon coming here, but that now the curse is on them.

Today’s their anniversary, too. I sure hope their next one’s 100% better.

I called Ma and told her and she said (as we were about to hang up) “I bought you something. Yes, it’s real. You can wear it at your wedding to feel like I’m there with you, but only if you want to.”

Tom had a great idea last night. We’re going to get some dorky shirts there for the wedding.

Both Mom and Dad will be calling either Friday or Saturday night.

Well, I think I’ve remembered to write about everything I wanted to. Going to go play a computer game!

TUESDAY, MAY 24, 1994 Just got this pen at the grocery store. It’s the same kind as the blue one I’ve been writing with.

Got my meds too, and the guy came today to do the appraisal. We hope all goes well with that and fast.

I am so tired, so I’m going to make this quick. Today was a fun and productive day. Tom and I also made love.

We had T-storms today and for the first time in a while, my allergies acted up. I took an allergy pill and I’m much better now, but very tired.

I’m going to go shut the computer off and try to get some sleep. I need it.

Kim called telling me she won’t be able to mail out the tape, stamps, and envelopes till Friday. That’s OK, cuz we got some stamps and envelopes.

MONDAY, MAY 23, 1994 Got a letter from Bob. One of the happiest he’s ever written. He really likes it better where he is.

I also got 5 returns for info on home computer work which I’ll have Tom check out later on.

Today is a weird day! Last night Tom and I cuddled, but we were both too beat for sex. He reminded me to wear whatever I want, regardless of if it’d be something he’d wear or not if he were me. It’s true that he never plays daddy, otherwise I wouldn’t marry him or be here.

The phone’s ringing, but I ain’t answering it. People always call when I’m busy. Kim called and she’s sending stamps and envelopes. Cool cuz my supply is running out and I don’t want to reorder now. I want to save all my money for Vegas.

She’s also mailing me a tape of different outgoing messages for the VM. There are people like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Rosanne Barr, Joan Rivers, Star Trek, Madonna, David Letterman and some others.

Andy got Sabrina’s letter and he read it to me. It’s sooo funny and he’s putting it in tomorrow’s mail (I hope).

I went for a few swims today.

Tom and I went over the business info I got. He’s going to check them out on the computer. Some sounded hopeful and some sounded shady.

Speaking of computers, boy did I get so mad and bummed! I accidentally deleted 6-7 pages I typed on and off all day today, but when Tom got home he recovered it. Andy said, “Thank God you’re marrying a genius.” How true indeed. What a heroic rescue.

Well, I’m sort of tired now and tomorrow will be a big day, so I think I’ll just go take it easy.

SUNDAY, MAY 22, 1994 Well, well. I’ve got quite a bit to write about this time around. Let me first think about all the little things to tell about before I get into bigger things.

Well, Tammy got her kitten labels. Mine oughta come at the beginning of this week.

Andy and I were going to go to some yard sales yesterday, but he got sick.

I’m starting to get some color once again and I haven’t laid out either. I won’t do that ever again cuz all I do is get chased by bees and get sun poisoning.

Yesterday, in my opinion, wasn’t a good day, but it could’ve been much much worse. I woke up today with the attitude that yesterday was done and over with. First my pillowcase came apart in the washer, as I had mentioned before. Once again the reality of being trapped on cigarettes till they kill me had me bummed. Tom watched basketball all day, then we went swimming.

At one point in the pool, Tom started to initiate sex, but after a few minutes, I began to get really chilly. I wasn’t going to mention it, but it was making me so tense and rigid that I had to. He then put on the spa and I had a smoke while I was waiting for it to warm up. When it did warm up I got in and began giving him a hand job. He didn’t seem overly aroused but aroused enough, so I thought. When we went to get out he seemed bummed and when I asked why he said it was cuz it was hard for him to restart again. I had mentioned finishing our business in bed, but he just couldn’t seem to get in the mood again.

Up till yesterday, it seemed to be that we swapped shoes in a way. Remember how I was the one who was always horny and would be begging for him to initiate sex more? Well, now it seems the other way around. Guess I go through my phases with that.

Well, things are far from bad with us and both of us are still eager to get married, but there are still a few things I don’t get. When he said how he didn’t want to be held back (sexually I mean), I didn’t get that cuz he’s held his own self back. I used to think that he couldn’t cum by me but now I think he can. If he can get so hard so many times, he can cum. There were several times he was about to cum and he just stopped, so why he’d hold back beats me. I don’t want to put him on the spot, though, and ask him. If he chooses not to cum by me, then that’s his choice.

This morning he told me he didn’t sleep too well cuz yesterday was a bad day. He said he’s not blaming me for it or trying to put a guilt trip on me, but I feel that way anyhow. I feel like he’s not going to initiate sex later as a punishment for yesterday. He always tells me to look ahead, don’t take things so seriously, so then why is it still a big deal? I can understand something very traumatic being a big deal for a while, but yesterday really wasn’t all that bad.

Lastly, when I went to put on a certain shirt I jokingly said we oughta get married with me in it and he looked mortified. I hope he knows me well enough to know I was joking. He seems to be taking some things too seriously. I resent his saying I’ve taken away all the things that turn him on about me. If I’ve turned him off so badly, wouldn’t he not want to be with me? Also, I dress with my tits hanging out which is bull. There was only this one shirt and I didn’t even know it till he mentioned it. Now I’m going to be paranoid about what I wear when we go out. My body is for him and him only, but I cannot and will not live to please others. I can’t spend my whole life worrying about what they think of me or my clothes. I just don’t feel I should need to worry about what a stranger approves or disapproves of. I just hope that Tom knows that I am for him only, regardless of whatever some stranger may be thinking when they see me in public.

Regardless of this, we both do love each other very much, have way more better days than most couples, and want very much to be married.

I called Florida today, but only my mom was there. She and Dad are both going to call back this week. She asked Tom about his life in general. Tom told him about his work, being here all his life and that we’ll be married in Vegas. Ma mentioned getting us a portable dishwasher for a wedding present. Cool. No, she never went into why we shouldn’t have kids.

Well, that’s pretty much it. We both swam today and it’s been so quiet next door, across the street, and with dogs.

Later…

Well, I’m now recording the first part of the Menendez Brothers’ murder case. It’s a 2-part movie about these 2 brothers who murdered their parents. It’s based on a real-life true story.

Tom mentioned us fooling around, but we were both really hungry so we ate. I think we’re both going to be too tired.

SATURDAY, MAY 21, 1994 Today's been a real frustrating day so far. I went to wash my pillows and one came apart. The other one's all bunched up. At least it's quiet next door. So far.

THURSDAY, MAY 19, 1994 Tammy got her address labels today. She liked them a lot and I just realized the second order of mine could be out front so I’d better go check.

Nope. It’s not, but I might get it tomorrow.

Got the package from Mom yesterday of one huge stuffed cheetah, leopard, or whatever. Tom and I aren’t sure, but it’s cute.

I went for a very quick swim in the Jacuzzi today. The pig did too. Early this morning the water temp was 76º and it was almost 80º an hour ago. I may go for another swim after I finish writing.

I got 1 letter from Kim and 2 from Bob. Bob’s artwork is really improving. Kim also sent me 3 letters she’d gotten from Bob. I typed them letters and quickly chatted with Fran. They’re about to turn his phone off. His bill’s currently $1,500. Ha, ha!

Now I think I will go, after all, and see what the pool’s like now.

Later…

I changed my mind about going swimming. I could, as it’s far from freezing, but it’s very windy. I only like it windy when it’s 100º or higher.

I’m watching Donoghue now. God, guys are so horny and so easy. I can bet you that 99% of guys hit on by a woman will jump to the opportunity right then and there. There’s nothing wrong with being a whore if your partners are willing, but guys are such major whores.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 18, 1994 Yesterday I managed to stay up till 2 PM and I got as close to midnight.

Also yesterday, Tom did yard work. I even helped saw off a tree branch.

Tom brought up a very important subject. He said, “I don’t want you to feel controlled or like I’m picking your friends, but I don’t think it’s wise to be pen pals with anyone else in prison.”

He brought up some other things to consider, too. The guy lived in Arizona for 5 years, knows the area, knows people here, and is in for involuntary manslaughter which is a common plea bargain for murder. He’s right, and that’d be all I’d need is for him to get released, come out here and stalk me. Usually, the only way to rid yourself of a stalker is to kill them. I certainly don’t feel like having to go out, learn to shoot, then kill this guy. Or anyone else.

I’ll explain all this to Bob, but I think he’s just been transferred. In the letter I got today from him he says he’d like to call collect to let me know the new address. As I was falling asleep I forgot to ask Tom if he could accept his call, if he did call. He did call, but Tom refused. Oh well. He also left me a message saying Andy, Fran and Kim called, too.

In a half-hour he should be getting up, then after he leaves I’ll dust and vacuum.

Later…

I’m so tired now. Just exhausted, but I don’t want to go to bed just yet. Let’s see… what can I write about? Well, for starters, Bob called and gave me his new address in Gardner. He says it’s so much better there than in Concord. Easier for Kim to visit here and there, too, cuz Gardner’s an hour away, whereas Concord’s a little over two hours. Any mail already on its way to Concord will be transferred to Gardner. I went to the computer and opened his address file, typed in his new address (now that I know this is his last transfer) and printed out a sheet of labels.

Speaking of labels, got my cactus labels. When I’m officially married, there’ll still be plenty of the old ones left to use as entry headers.

TUESDAY, MAY 17, 1994 I have so much to write about, but I am temporarily all written out. I’ll do a quick rundown on things.

I got all psyched up last night for nothing, but Tom said he’ll show me what I’m doing wrong with printing pictures.

I got 2 letters from Kim, 2 from Bob and 1 from David. He’s an inmate where Bob is and the letter he sent was nice. I have another pen pal possibly.

BOL #9 has 38 pages done already.

MONDAY, MAY 16, 1994 I’m printing out shots of Andy and I performing at the Pub and Frontier. I hope it comes out OK. Andy’s going to love it and I’ll send copies to my parents, Tammy, Bob and Kim too, eventually. This will be so much fun, but right now I’ve got to go see how it’s printing out. It takes forever and I’ve got sooo many scenes of sooo many different things that I want to print out.

Later…

Picture #1 came out so-so. Parts of it were either too light or too dark. People’s faces were one big white blob. You couldn’t see much detail. We need a new ribbon. Also, Tom said he’d show me how to lighten and darken things. How to change picture sizes, too.

I wonder if my package from my folks will arrive today. I hope so if she mailed it last Tuesday or Wednesday.

The journal Tom got me is so cute. It’s so sweet of him too, and he said he finally wanted to buy me a journal without me there.

I’ll have to ask for Andy’s help in mid-June or so, to take me somewhere to get something for Tom’s birthday.

Well, let me go check on how picture #2 is making progress.

Later…

Picture #2 came out lousy, but we’ll see how #3 comes out. I definitely have lots of questions for Tom. I’m going to try to print a Gloria picture as I’m curious to see how that comes out. I’ll try more of Norah, too.

Later…

Yay! I’m so psyched. I showed Tom how shitty the pictures came out and he said it was cuz I was starting with the picture too small on the screen. He also said he’d show me how to fix it sometime. Well, guess what? I figured out how to fix it for myself. So, this is what I’ll be doing for a while, then maybe I will go for a swim.

SUNDAY, MAY 15, 1994 Got a letter from Bob and got a letter from Kim today.

I’m certainly going to have a lot of movies taped. Six of them, and in 40 minutes or so, I’m going to watch another. One is about ice skaters trying for gold and falling in love while they're at it.

I got up at 6 PM and could’ve easily gone to Tom’s parents' house tomorrow morning. Guess why I’m not, though? Cuz Tom says there’ll be some cousins, “ants” and uncles who are jerks. Don’t I know all too well about that one?

It was 101º today. I went out back a couple of times in the early evening and guess who I could hear? It pisses me off and it’s also very depressing. Except for dogs, it used to be so quiet and peaceful back there. I still hang onto the hope that as the temperature gets hotter and hotter, they’ll shut their fucking door. Better yet, leave. It’s better than having them right outside my bedroom, though, and during the winter they oughta have their doors shut. I never could really hear them in the back till recently.

Well, it’s nice to know the music’s quiet across the street, their dog’s quiet next door and the dog across the street has been long gone.

Also, not one spider since we bombed. That’s just great cuz by now I’d have found about 20 more.

The more I think about it I realize that it doesn’t matter if they leave next door cuz if they do, God will send someone else to irk me.

Later…

I know I’ve bitched and bitched, but I guess I just always have something to whine about with life’s many ups and downs and changes. However, next door, for example, really hits me hard cuz of the NHA. Also, the VV and CC, but especially the NHA.

I’m bummed now cuz I want to go swimming today. Well, I might want to. We’ll have to see how tired I am. The point is that I live in a house that will sound like an apartment complex out back.

Again I ask God why He insists on doing this to me. What does He want from me? No matter when I may think about having a kid, I know it is not meant to be. There are more reasons for it not to be meant to be, than for it to be meant to be, so why does He insist on exposing me to kids’ noise so much? I don’t care that it’s a fraction of the NHA’s noise, either. I want to know what the point is. What did I ever do to any child for Him to use them against me? Is it cuz I pissed off adults when I was a child? Every child does, so why me? There are enough people in this world, you know, who don’t have to put up with having their own backyards screamed out. Especially in a house.

It would ease my mind right now if I knew for sure they were going to Idaho or would shut their fucking doors.

Tom’s up now, so I’ll continue this later. He’s up early. I thought he’d sleep in today.

Later…

Last night I went through a catalog for work at home. Sending mailing lists, stuffing envelopes, etc.

I slept from 10 AM to 7:30 PM and feel so much better. Today’s the last day of my antibiotics.

Tomorrow oughta be a great day. It’ll be Monday, and too hot for them to have their doors open.

Tom said he was glad I didn’t go to his parent’s house today. He said there were 4 kids and 20 adults. All in a house half the size of ours.

He surprised me today with a teddy bear journal (#74) that was only $2.49.

SATURDAY, MAY 14, 1994 I am so fucking pissed! There’s nothing like having everything break down on you at once. God just insists for whatever reason that I don’t do any computer work right now. The printer’s fucked up, so I can’t print out Bob’s and Fran’s letters. The VCR keeps flashing that the timer’s on and I can’t turn it off! I swear I’m on the verge of handwriting all my letters again! And fuck working with the video blaster!

The good news that I amazingly have is that I got one letter each from Bob and Kim today and BOL #8 is done.

Kim sent Tom a check for $15. That was nice of her. I thought she said she was sending $10.

Fran called and we talked for two hours. We got Andy on the line at one point and he had Fran call his friend Mary who’s also in Springfield. We called Nervous and Crystal a few times and they only spoke briefly and hung up. I couldn’t get Crystal to go off like I wanted her to. Nervous was drunker than hell. Lastly, we ordered them a pizza, but who knows if they’ll get it? You can’t get into their front door with no key.

Tomorrow we’re going grocery shopping. I mean today (early this morning).

I’ll probably be too tired to swim today, but who cares when I’m sure all they’re going to do is scream all day next door.

Don’t they ever go anywhere? I swear these people are home more than I am. When did they move in? November or December? Maybe even October? I’d have to look it up, but my point is that they’ve spent a total of no more than 4 days out. Tom says that if they really do go to Idaho, it’s tradition to go on Memorial weekend. So many people talk but never do, so I’ll keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best. And also hope that if they do split, God won’t stick me with someone else’s noise. It didn’t sound like anyone would be renting cuz the guy’s going to stay there the bulk of the time and fly up on weekends. That’s what she said.

Later…

I just did some typing on #4, the only thing I can do tonight on the computer that works.

My waterbed sheets have been staying on a hell of a lot better since I cut the corners at the headboard, making straps. It’s a very hard thing to describe in writing, but it works.

I also did some exercises.

I hope Andy didn’t get killed or something when he went for his walk after Fran and I talked to him. He said he’d call back, but I’m sure he fell asleep. I still have a keen enough 6th sense and I’d have a lousy feeling in my gut if there was anything wrong.

I’ve got 8 hours’ worth of movies taped. This will be good for those days when I don’t feel like doing anything at all. That’s usually only 1-2 times a month, but it’s good for those kinds of days.

In about 4 hours we’ll be going grocery shopping.

FRIDAY, MAY 13, 1994 Got up at 2:30 PM yesterday. Got 6 hours of sleep, but I’m not tired. Woke up with my period, too.

I went swimming at 6 PM. It was nice and within the next week, the temperature will be climbing. Tomorrow will be 93º, and for Saturday, 97º. Sunday & Monday, 100º. Who knows if I’ll be lucky enough to have a peaceful swim this weekend? I’ll probably get screamed out by the lovely animals next door. Will they really ever go to Idaho? Who knows, but I’m definitely going to Vegas from June 14-17. We’ll be married on the 15th. Can’t wait!

Fran called earlier all upset about that girl Annette. Tom thought it was really neat how I calmed him down and got his mind off of it.

Yesterday Tammy brought Bill home from the hospital, so that’s cool.

I wrote letters to Bob and Kim. Got 2 letters today from Bob and I should hear from Kim tomorrow. I’m sending out my letter to the Phoenix Day School for the Deaf, so we’ll see where that goes.

I exercised and will continue to regardless of where my weight goes.

Wanna go for a swim right now, but I’m sure it’s too chilly now.

Well, now I’m going to go start typing up more of #4.

I sure did lots of typing on #4 tonight. I typed 10 pages, which only took 5 on the computer. I made some spaghetti, and wonder if BOL #8 will be finished tomorrow?

I gotta take a break and lay down for a while, so I’ll see ya.

Later…

I forgot to mention that yesterday I got a call from Dr. Wilcox’s office. My white blood cell count has improved. In 3 weeks I gotta get blood drawn again, though.

I did even more typing on #4. I typed a total of 8 pages through the night. There are 53 lines per page. I think that’s 505 lines altogether. That’s a lot. Most of the shit I’m typing is either way off the wall or shit I really don’t care to remember.

Spoke to Tam and gave her our wedding date. She said she wished she could be there. Me too, but what can anyone do?

Tom just turned the shower off and will soon be off to work. Poor guy. He’s running late, too.

Well, gotta go set the VCR.

THURSDAY, MAY 12, 1994 They say when one falls in love (or thinks they are), they’re compensated with weight gain. Well, they were right as I continue to get bigger. The sooner I stop worrying about it and trying to change it, the better I’ll feel. So, let the fat come! This also happened with Brenda and Kacey. Yeah, well, no chance of me leaving Tom, so God can pile all the pounds on me he wants.

I finished watching the movie I taped.

I was typing letters earlier to my parents and to Tammy and I figured out how to insert symbols and special characters.

I had another idea about my weight. Why don’t I try to get fat? Cuz, you know that the harder you try for something, the less likely you are to get it. That rule didn’t apply to me with women, though. Even when I wasn’t looking I never got approached by anything spectacular.

Tomorrow I will have my period. That’ll only make my tummy a little flatter for 24-48 hours or so, so I’ll just go with the flow, do whatever my body’s going to do and not try to resist it. By August I’ll probably be 106-110 on our scale here. I’ll keep a regular log of it. Earlier the scale said 102 and my waist was a sickening 27”. The last time I had a 27” waist, I weighed 110-115. Someday I could weigh 100 and have a 29” waist. It feels like I get way more inches for the pounds. Tom keeps insisting I’m skinny and that’s fine and that’s his opinion, but what’s really important is how I feel. That’s what really counts and I no longer can as easily look in the mirror. That is unless I’m not nude.

Yesterday I fell asleep at 8 AM and got up at 2:30 PM. I’m surprised I didn’t sleep till 4:00 or 5:00 and that I wasn’t tired all day. Especially with the rain too, cuz that usually makes me tired.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 11, 1994 Now I finally have time to update. Yesterday me and Tom broke a record. He went down on me and I came twice. No one else has ever been able to make me cum twice.

I spoke to Ma a couple of days ago and she tried to call us too on Mother’s Day, but we both missed each other’s calls. Oh well. Better luck next time.

Got a Bob letter two days in a row and Kim called yesterday, too. She had me play a joke on Phil, her very much ex. He placed a personal ad on a 900-voicemail system and I called with a bogus Northampton number and name, saying I was very interested in meeting him. She’s going to reimburse us and wrote a check to Tom for $10.

She’d also like to visit again in the summer or fall and maybe go to Vegas. Tom said he’d like to go, too. That’s cool. I thought he’d want to avoid Kim.

She’s got letters on their way to me, too.

So, it didn’t take long for the blood work, then we went to get cash, then to KFC, then to Jack-n-the-Box, then home. We were gone for about two hours.

Upon getting home, we opened the place up and turned the EC on. No more spiders!

When Tom woke me up yesterday, damn was he horny! Unfortunately, I was too tired to respond.

I printed address labels for the people I write to a lot except for Bob since he may be moved out to Gardner.

Speaking of address labels, a Veteran company sent me about 90 of them on a sheet. Right before I get married, huh? That’s OK, though, cuz I’ll use them for Fran, as well as entry separators. They weren’t overly impressive. Just so-so. They had 4 different things preceding the address. Eagles, flags, rainbows and fireworks. I put the labels in the front cover of my journal.

I’m mailing Nerv tons of computer catalogs. Yup, Tom gave me lots of NPN cards for catalogs I know he didn’t get yet. I printed out 2 sheets, each of 14, so that totals 28 labels of Nerv’s name and address, so I only had to write 4 by hand. So, he should get 32 catalogs, all from different states.

Later…

Tom’s home from work now, eating dinner and getting the basketball scores on the TV in the back room.

In the living room, I’m recording Friday the 13th. They’re having about 5 episodes from Wednesday-Friday.

Within an hour or so, he’ll be going to bed, seeing how he’s been up since 5 AM. After he’s in bed, I’ll probably do some typing. Last night I used all those free labels I got, plus some of the ones I already had.

Later…

I was about to expand on my labels, but Tom and I got to talking, then he crashed.

I had several journals, especially the earlier ones, with calendars, and other little things here and there, taped in the front and back covers. I had written stupid stuff like numbers on the back and front covers, making it look confusing and unorganized. That’s the original purpose of covering them with pictures of flowers from calendars and whatever the hell else. I took off the pictures I had taped on and re-covered the confusing mess back up with address labels.

TUESDAY, MAY 10, 1994 I have several things to write about, but then again, maybe I should wait till tomorrow.

Tomorrow we’re bombing this place, thank fucking God. I’m sick of finding at least 3 spiders a day.

I’m getting blood drawn again tomorrow to see if my white blood cell count is normal again. Of course, we’re taking the pig with us. Getting blood drawn won’t take 2-3 hours, so what else we’ll do and where else we’ll go, who knows? I’ll save the rest of my news for either later or tomorrow.

Later…

I am at the doctor’s now waiting to be stuck. She said it won’t be too long, but we’ll see.

Before we left we set off the bombs. Piggy’s in the car with Tom.

SUNDAY, MAY 8, 1994 I hope Tom hurries up and gets home. Last night we agreed we’d call my parents. For two reasons. One’s cuz it’s Mother’s Day and the other’s so they can talk with Tom. I have a feeling he may have an excuse not to call. Does he really want to talk to them or even meet them? I wonder about this, but we’ll see what he says when he gets in.

Next Sunday I’ll be meeting his parents, but now I wonder if I’ll be able to be up at a decent hour. I didn’t get up till 2:30 today.

I talked to Tammy who says Bill’s doing better. She’s got a cold, though, or something. She said Larry called her. They only spoke for two minutes. He was in Missouri.

They made it sound like it was going to be very chilly today. Well, it’s not hot, but it’s not chilly either.

The pool doesn’t feel too bad, but it is very windy out. They say we may have T-storms tonight or tomorrow.

I’m very hungry now, so I think I’ll go cook some chicken wings.

Later…

I just threw in a few chicken wings and did the dishes.

I think I just heard Tom. If he isn’t back in an hour then, I’m not going to call my mom. If we don’t call my mom I’ll keep my mouth shut for a few days and see if he mentions it. If he doesn’t, I’ll remind him that he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to and he can tell me so up front.

Later…

Tom got home about 20 minutes ago and we did try calling my parents, but there was no answer.

I ate and now he’s eating.

I also talked to Andy for a few minutes. Between both of us, we’ve got lots of mail to go out tomorrow. He’s got his bills, book club and whatever computer stuff. I’ve got letters to Fran, Bob, Kim, Tammy, Bill, my nieces and my parents.

God, my face has been so greasy. Guess that’s better than it being all dry and flaky, though.

I just printed out 3 pictures from tapes but they’re too light. Time for a new color ribbon. That video thing’s so fun. When we get a new ribbon, I’m going to do some of Gloria. I’m going to do different stuff for Tom, and I have a real surprise for him and Andy both. I’m going to take the video of me and Andy performing at the pub and the Frontier and print some of those out.

Later…

That guy Eldon gave Tom an old VCR for working for him today. He just sprayed electrical spray on it, so I’m in my room now till the smell goes away. Later on tonight, I may use whichever VCR to print out some pictures.

He’s on the phone now talking to David.

I have been running a mile a minute here and now I gotta slow down.

Tom was really tired so we didn’t have any fun tonight. That’s alright though as amazingly enough, I’m not all that horny for being 3 days away from my period.

SATURDAY, MAY 7, 1994 I am sitting at the kitchen table now where it’s easier for me to write.

I just copied a drawing Bob sent of a horse. It was from the neck up. Mine was good, but most of his I liked better.

I’m getting sort of drowsy now and I also have to go take another antibiotic now. I’m going to veg out to music and lay down, so I’ll write another time.

Later…

Yup, I’m still up.

I killed 3 spiders and typed a letter to Boo and Max. Why? Oh just for the hell of it and to give them a life update since they last helped me out. Hopefully, they’re still in Longmeadow and will get the letter. I believe they only go to Florida during the winter.

I forgot to mention the lovely and unexpected surprise I got from Tom shortly after I got up yesterday morning. He went down on me on the couch, then later we played on the waterbed. This time wasn’t a clumsy disaster as he made it in there. I swear this guy’s getting closer and closer to cumming, but if he ever will, who knows?

He’s going shopping this morning for some stuff we need around here. We need silverware, margarine, water, and of course, food items, too. He’ll be up in 1-3 hours.

Gotta call Prodigy. I’m sure I have all kinds of junk mail to delete. Gotta shave, gotta polish my nails and whatever else I can think of.

Yesterday I gave my hair another mayonnaise treatment. It really does work well at getting the dryness out. Makes it softer. I topped it off with Infusium.

Later…

Today I got Andy’s 14-page letter. It’s pretty cool and funny. I also got a letter from Bob. I’m going to go type them up and use the disk labels to stick them in BOL #8.

Got myself an unexpected surprise today. I went swimming today and the water’s a little warmer. No noise next door.

Tom did some yard work and it really looks nice out there. He trimmed with the edger after he mowed and swept the grass away since tomorrow they say it’ll be not only windy but very much cooler.

He also brought out this little round raft which is perfect for my size. It’s actually intended for something other than a raft. It’s got 8 small spots for glasses around it and in the center, another bigger sunken spot for a thing of ice. The pig will love traveling around in that.

I typed up Bob’s 7-page letter and Andy’s 14-page letter. It’s printing out now.

Later…

I just jumped up to take my antibiotic. Don’t wanna be too late on it.

Amazingly enough, I got up at 12:30 today. Even after yesterday’s long nap.

Well, gotta go check the printer now. Later I’ll be back to write more.

Later…

I taped in my letters.

Tom’s cooking pork chops now while we’re watching the movie Police Academy.

Later…

OK, I’m back. Tom just went to bed. Dinner was good.

I cut another big baggy of lettuce for the pig.

Tomorrow Tom’s going to work on this guy Eldon’s (a friend of his) computer.

Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day and we’re both going to call my mom tomorrow night.

Next Sunday I’ll be meeting his parents (finally).

Tom went grocery shopping this morning and he picked up the vitamin E Dr. Wilcox recommended. Yup, it does help these tits of mine. Now I gotta get the water pills. Tom’s been having a hard time finding them. I think our best bet would be to go to a drugstore for them.

Hang on while I go potty.

Later…

I got an idea last night for the waterbed. I was thinking of taking the foam pad off the twin bed and sticking it on the side I sleep on. This will make the sheets cling to it better. You know how waterbed sheets are always slipping off.

After I try that, I will go look in the TV guide and see if there are any good movies on tonight or not. If not, I’ll type letters. I’ll do that anyway as I usually tape whatever I watch to zip through the commercials. That is unless I’m watching HBO or Cinemax.

I need to call Andy too, to let him know his letter arrived today.

Later…

I just typed letters to Fran, Bob and Kim. In a few minutes, I’m going to watch a movie.

I love my piggy, but sometimes I think it’d be nice to have a small poodle. Something you can run around with. Also, they have no dander, don’t shed, and don’t need to be declawed. No litter box, either.

Well, till later.

Later…

I know I’ve said this before, but I have to do something about my weight. I recognize the old, yet familiar pattern. It’s been 101-103 too much lately. I’ll keep gaining 2-3 pounds a month if I don’t stop it now. I must lose 2-3 inches all around. If my parents are coming within the next few months, I’d like for them to see I’m still thin. It’ll be fine with them and they’ll love me just the same if I’m chunky, but I prefer to be thin, regardless of what others want for me.

Late at night, they play all these commercials of sexy girls to call. That’s my idea of pictures for Tom. I’ll surprise him, but right now the VCR is in use, taping a movie.

FRIDAY, MAY 6, 1994 I’m watching that movie now. It’s good so far.

I saw a commercial for an exercise machine I’d really like to have. Now here goes all those girlie talk-line commercials.

God am I feeling like a blimp! It seems my gut goes in and out, in and out. I still have to get those water pills.

Boy, this movie’s good. Most movies are so predictable. This one keeps twisting and turning with lots of surprises. After the movie, I’ll set up the timer to record Andy’s soaps.

My tits are sore but I’m only 6 days away from relief and I’ll be getting that vitamin E the Doc recommended.

Later…

God, are my lungs tight. It could be worse, though.

I left a note to Tom with the idea I’m about to write. Remember how when I first got here I wrote a letter to the Phoenix Day School for the Deaf requesting a deaf friend to sign with? This was when I lived next to the VV butch before she pulled her shit on me. I met one woman who was prejudiced against the fact that I was on disability. Well, now I think I’d like to try again and send in another letter.

Andy’s on his way over, so, be prepared for me to possibly be cut off.

Guess who’s playing? Yup, across the street, but at an acceptable volume. I can ever so barely hear it.

They’ve been great next door too, but during the next two days, we’ll see. I won’t mind cuz I’m not going swimming tomorrow. I also may very well be asleep.

I began my antibiotics today. Last night I slept 4 hours, waking up at 8 AM. No noise woke me up. I fell back asleep, though, from about noon to 5:00. I needed it, and the antibiotics have a way of making you drowsy.

Andy rented a TV today and is coming to get the soaps I recorded for him.

He’s also bringing 4-5 Mexican TV dinners. I probably won’t like them, but Tom will. He got them from a guy who drives a delivery truck with TV dinners.

Got a letter from Bob today. That makes my current total 175. BOL #8 is just past halfway.

I may also have another pen pal from where Bob is. I told Bob that as long as the guy’s no sex offender, it’s OK. I can deal with robbery or drug offenses, cuz you know I believe sex offenders can’t be rehabilitated and should be tortured and executed. Also, I’ll accept no sexual talk. I’m just not into that anymore. Those I’ll mark ‘return to sender.’

Tom thought it was a great idea for me to write to the Phoenix Day School for the Deaf for a deaf friend to sign with.

I put my note I left him in a no-postage-necessary envelope. I sent Kim Bob’s letter and Bob a letter, too. Soon I’ll type my parents and maybe Fran, too.

Later…

Andy came and got his tape. He also brought about 6 Mexican TV dinners, which I hate, but Tom will like. He also brought some pies, but they were crushed.

Yuck! There was a spider crawling on the headboard of this bed. Thank God we’re going to bomb real soon.

I finished typing up #3 last night and began #4. Typed letters to Bob, Kim and my parents tonight.

Fran called and Ricky was with him. He says Sabrina’s letter is ready, but he’s having trouble finding someone to take a picture of him. Guess he’s still trying, though. He wants more and more to come out here and said it’s cold there now and they almost had a hurricane.

Ricky called Nervous and I was surprised he didn’t instantly recognize his voice and hang up. Ricky pulled some ticket scam on him and for a few minutes, he was dumbly going along. Then Crystal grabbed the phone and she was just getting heated up, but Ricky hung up cuz he thought I hung up.

THURSDAY, MAY 5, 1994 Yesterday was quite a busy day. I got up at 12:30 PM and went for a swim. I also recorded my song and typed up ideas for the signing program.

At 6:30 Andy came and brought me to his place. I drew an Indian design to give it that real southwestern look. I also did his lampshade like I did mine.

He fed me well while I was there. He gave me cookies, crackers, a hot dog, and made me my coffee.

He also gave me tons of video labels, but I have yet to figure out what I’ll do with them.

Tom was in bed when I got home at 9:30. We left each other messages, though.

I talked to Tammy and Bill’s latest report isn’t good. He’s vomiting and has a fever.

My doctor called in antibiotics. I’ve been quite congested and yesterday they called to tell me my white blood cell count was too high. Next Tuesday I still gotta go back for a re-check. When I awoke today at 11:30, I was coughing up gallons of shit.

Went for another swim today. The water’s still chilly, but I managed to throw myself in.

What will the mailman bring me today? Another batch of Bob letters?

Later…

Yup, the mailman brought me 2 Bob letters which he stuck in one envelope.

Now for my cutest and funniest news of the day. I brought the pig out to the Jacuzzi and slowly lowered him down. I could tell right away that swimming would be one of his bags, cuz he remained totally relaxed. He swam around and around several times for a good 60 seconds or so and he loved it. Totally had a ball.

Andy’s TV’s dead and tomorrow I have to record 2 soaps for him. He says he’s getting a new TV tomorrow, but we’ll see. I have a feeling I may be doing this for him for a while. Guess he’s going to try getting a loan from his parents.

I also numbered all the journals on the top shelf of my bookcase. So, that’s 1-25. I’ll do more another time. I’ve got 2½ out of my 5 shelves filled up with journals. 1-25 on the first shelf. 26-54 on the second. 55-73 on the third.

I typed a letter to my folks today and I’ll do more typing later. Right now I’m a little bored. What else can I write about? I’m just trying to think. Have I forgotten anything? I said that yesterday and today I went for a swim, right?

Next door was quiet, thankfully, but I’m sure they’ll be ruling the weekend. That seems to be their thing lately till it gets over 100º. I say let them have this weekend cuz at 80º, the pool won’t be as nice and they say there’s a slight chance for rain Saturday - Monday.

Later…

Well, Tom will be delightfully pleased when he comes home which will be any second, cuz I have a spag dinner waiting for him.

I think I hear him now.

Later…

Guess Andy’s gone to bed. I just tried calling, but there’s no answer.

Guess what? I am now beginning the typing of #4. Amazing, huh? This is the furthest I’ve ever gone with typing them. It’s so much easier not to print them out. Also, it’s much easier using all caps and no fancy fonts.

Tom loved his spag dinner and we talked a lot to catch up since we didn’t see each other yesterday.

Will the pool be suitable for swimming tomorrow? I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see. Today was 97º and they say tomorrow it’ll be 94º, but hopefully that difference of a few degrees won’t matter. I’m not doing any swimming over the weekend. They say it’ll only be in the lower 80s, may rain, and they’ll be out back screaming next door.

No heavy metal concerts. They’ve been great. If they have been doing any playing, they’ve kept it quiet.

Tom’s going to pick up my antibiotics tomorrow. This will really help. He said he may drop them off at lunchtime if he can get the time.

Later…

I just went to the bathroom and got my regular meds.

In a half-hour, I’m going to watch a movie with Melissa Gilbert in it.

I saw something quite interesting on a news documentary show. Stalkers on Prodigy. But how the hell do they get people’s addresses unless they gave them to them? That must be it cuz there’s no way you can get this address from either Tom’s or my membership. I think it had to do with something like a bulletin. Where people are either pen pals or looking for dates.

Anyway, they just couldn’t get this one guy to stop. I am very against the sexual and threatening stuff he sent, but it seems like a fun way to send wacky stuff without getting caught. Then again, when Tammy sends me messages, a thing comes up giving me her name and her code. So, how in the hell are they sending mail without it being able to show where and who’s sending it? I’ll have to ask Tom tomorrow.

Andy said he finished that very long letter for me and Bob. Like 14 pages or so. When will he mail it here? Who knows? Fran’s full of shit, though, when he says he’s going to write to me and Sabrina. That’s OK, I get my fair share of letters from Bob.

Let’s see…what else is going on? Not much else. Can’t wait to watch the pig go swimming again. It’s so cute and so funny. I’ll wait, though, for when I’m in the pool with him. This will give us better peace of mind. Also, he shakes water all over me, so I may as well have a suit on, rather than regular clothes.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 4, 1994 We fixed our sluggish toilet. No more having to flush number twos twice.

Last night I printed out tons of Norah pictures. Yes, I can do it all on my own now and it was so much fun. Going to do more of Gloria and others for Tom.

Sabrina and I still haven’t heard from Fran. Maybe a letter is on its way in the mail, but I doubt it very much.

We’re going to try to make and sell a computer program with me signing. First we’ll begin with those not serious about signing. Those who are usually going to school, but further on down the road, we may do an advanced one. We’ll start with simple everyday signs like in a foreign traveler’s guide for certain situations. Like if you have a deaf visitor or work in an office with deaf people.

I typed up a handful of letters. To Fran, Bob, Kim, Tammy and my parents.

Got lots of things to do. I want to clean the bathroom after the blue toilet water made quite a mess while Tom fixed it.

Gotta type up my signing ideas. Simple phrases and questions. He’s going to use the video blaster and the camera that’s on a tripod.

Gotta somehow turn that big Stevie dress from Andy into a skirt. Gotta record My Time Has Come. Gotta keep typing #3.

This is the last month of SS and SSI checks.

I was just thinking of all the shocking, unexpected, yet great things that have happened since I came here nearly two years ago between the dancing, getting a 2-bedroom apartment, meeting Tom, moving into a house, seeing Kim and Larry, learning computers, getting off SS and SSI and only having a few asthma attacks. I wish I could add quitting smoking to the list, but I just can’t.

TUESDAY, MAY 3, 1994 In just a little while, I have to go see Dr. Wilcox. When I get there and have to wait 20 years I’ll write more.

Later…

I’m in one of the exam rooms waiting to be seen. It’ll be a while, I’m sure. God, I hate waiting!

Yesterday was lots of fun. Andy picked me up at 12:30 and I was there till 6 PM. Before that, I got 3 letters from Bob and 1 from Kim.

I also spoke to Tammy. They removed Bill’s spleen which was loaded with cancer. Luckily his liver’s OK and they hope he can resume light duties at work within 6 weeks if the chemo works. If not, they may have to do a bone marrow transplant.

When Andy picked me up he went to pay his cable bill. That took forever.

Oh, before I forget. I spoke to Mom yesterday. She’s sending a package, but she wouldn’t say what of. I should get it at the end of next week.

After the cable company, we went to the Abco grocery store where he got a 6-pack of Snickers bars and some milk.

I took my suit hoping that maybe his

Later…

I got cut off in mid-sentence cuz Dr. Wilcox came in. Luckily it didn’t drag on as long as I thought it might.

She thought my journal book was so beautiful and was astounded when I told her how many I had. She asked me how I got into it and I told her. I noticed she had the same pen I’m writing with now, but hers was black. She asked to try this pen, she did, liked it and I offered to swap, but we didn’t. I intend to get more of these pens for sure.

Anyway, my boobs are very sore. She recommended vitamin E. She also said my lungs were a little tight, but not that bad. Yup, they certainly could be worse. They took blood for my Theo level anyway and they’ll call only if there’s a problem.

So anyway, about yesterday. I took my suit over to Andy’s hoping the heat would still be on since there’s a huge Olympic-size pool there, but it was too cold.

Andy did his laundry and cleaned while I drew cactus and a pot of flowers. He was very happy with it.

He gave me some things, too. The picture Tom took of us with my cactus I drew in the living room here behind us. Also, some other pictures of him, a nice wall shelf and an old Stevie dress. A nice pair of sunglasses, too. This pair doesn’t bother my ear and when I blink, my eyelashes don’t hit the lens. I’m going to adjust the Stevie dress and make a nice skirt out of it for myself. The wall shelf’s up in my room. It has 3 spokes on it and I’ve got necklaces and hair stuff hanging off it.

I lent him my Bonnie Raitt CD again, gave him the tapes I dubbed, and also his tape with his messages from his voicemail. The tape’s not done yet. He just wants to hear what he has on it so far.

More later.

MONDAY, MAY 2, 1994 Earlier Tom showed me how to hook the VCR up to the computer and print out pictures. I was doing fine till he went to bed, but now I can’t get the damn thing to print.

So much for his wearing me out today like he said he would cuz he felt really lousy, but I truly understand. I couldn’t be horny if I had a cold.

I talked to Andy and I may very well go to his place tomorrow to do wall art.

I’ll be going to bed soon, and on my way there, I not only wish I were deaf, I still wonder what’s God’s motive, or whoever my maker is, behind throwing these kids next door at me? Of all the houses on the block, too. It just had to be me. Is he trying to tell me I’m to have a kid? Or just annoy me? I think if I were meant to have a kid, I’d be pregnant by now and not a DES daughter. As far as to annoy me; I haven’t been doing anything to really annoy, upset, or piss off anyone else for quite a while now, so I don’t know about that. What is the reason? There’s got to be a reason. These things just don’t constantly happen wherever one goes. This is no coincidence.

Why? Why? Why? Why?

SUNDAY, MAY 1, 1994 Just had a chat with Andy and I’m about to hit the sack.

I have a total of 167 letters so far.

Today I’m not in the best of moods. I blew my schedule. I couldn’t wake up till 11 PM.

Also, the little animals are screaming their heads off in the backyard next door so I sure as hell won’t get any peace in my backyard. It sounds like the pool at the apartment complex.

What’s God trying to tell me? Why, why, why?! Almost everyone else here’s quiet on this street. Why me? Will they all really go to Idaho for the summer? Will they stay inside when it’s very hot? Why me? God, what are you trying to tell me?

I just got the two stickers in the front cover of my journal from my box of Lucky Charms.

I’m very hungry now, so I think I’ll get a bite to eat and then do some typing.

Later…

I wish Tom was working nights just for tonight so I could go throw a bottle onto their roof next door. Oh, I wanna do something sooo bad.

I wish I was deaf. I really really do. Yes, I’d miss my music, but I’ve heard long enough to hear plenty of songs in my head and to keep singing. I really really wish I were deaf. This one ear of mine has heard too many sounds it didn’t want to hear.

I don’t know how long they were out there, but I can imagine it was a good 4-6 hours. People have no respect for those around them. People have no control over their own kids. I’m sure they won’t go away for the summer. God just wouldn’t bless me with that. If He did, there’d be some other problem till we live in a house someday far enough away from others.

I just want to be deaf so bad. It’s all I think about lately. It’s always on my mind. I want to be deaf. I want to be deaf. I want to be deaf. I want to be deaf. I want to be deaf.

[gardenofbookworms]

may's monthly: from bee and rose

The Obsession by Jesse Q. Sutanto 

▪ thriller/suspense novel ▪

you all know the questions in a relationship. who plans the dates? who combs the other’s hair? who yaps, who listens? who hides the most secrets? who stalks the other? and, most importantly, who ends up dead first?

logan (who has no last name, interpret that as you will) is convinced that he’s destined for delilah, his gift from the crush of junior year—the glamorous sophie. she looks just like sophie, and they used to be perfect for each other, right? right…up until sophie died. 

now, logan spends his time scrolling through every one of delilah’s socials, sneaking into her house uninvited, checking footage from the camera he’s put near her place, and finding excuses to walk by and talk to her. it’s just so obvious they’re meant to be together; he knows nearly all of her darkest secrets and loves her all the more for them. and no one, no one, could ever possibly know her better than he does. 

sweet, shy delilah wong is fucking sick of controlling men. she’s all her mom’s got left after pa and brandon, her terrible ex-boyfriend. her mom’s been through enough, so shouldn’t delilah be strong enough to protect the both of them? falling for logan proves to be her worst mistake, and she’s blackmailed into dancing to a tune she knows all too well—but it’s only a matter of time until she gets to lead. and she’ll paint the ballroom floor with blood if that’s what it takes to live freely.

it's been months since the two started dating, and logan feels like he’s going insane. delilah has become more compliant, yes, but her constant worrying about the video is getting to him. he’ll have to do something about it—make her happy and keep her happy, forever. it’s all out of love, so it’s fine, right?

wrong. the roles have been switched, and delilah is starting to bare her fangs. but is that enough to escape the cage logan’s carved around her?

▪

from bee

this book has, well, a history. i first gave it to rose for her birthday last year (and with a note she’ll never let me forget). and actually, it’s got stuff we both like. romance and murder fit hand and hand. and of course—because there’s always an “of course”—you’ve got drug dealers, giant pancakes, concerned bestie josh, dead ex nightmares, and a serious case of erotomania. 

after rereading this book recently, there was one thing in particular i really liked. delilah’s transforming from the prey to predator, yes, but she’s still wavering. she can do all these bad things but she’s still scared. she’s still just a high schooler who’s desperate to escape her life, not some hero who gains all the confidence in the world after her Big Realization. i think that’s a little more realistic than delilah going on a rampage. besides that, i also noticed how logan took to calling her “dee” really quickly…quite devoted for someone who’s only known her a few weeks.

from rose

as bee just said, the two of us have quite a history with this book. this year, i gave her the prequel, the new girl, for her birthday, with a note very similar to the one she gave me. and yes, romance and murder fit together very well here. but, as bee so brilliantly put it a while back, here’s the thing: you gotta think of this book less like a sketchy romance, and more like a spiral towards insanity. 

logan feels like he’s slowly losing his mind—everything comes back to delilah, and everything (and i mean everything) seems like a threat to their relationship. in my opinion, this is a wonderful way to set up a romance called the obsession; it enables the author to justify the anger and worry and “love” logan feels when exposed to anything to do with delilah, while still letting the reader see in perfect clarity how utterly wrong he is. and delilah is going to make him pay, even if it all doesn’t turn out quite how she hoped it would.

▪

bonus: spotify playlist!

[dawn8080]

Alright, rant time! And yes; it’s about dreaded love.

BACKSTORY! Ive only had 2 romantic partners my whole 18-almost-19 years of life. I started dating my first partner, let’s call him K, on June 26th 2023. We broke up December 7th. He told me he was 19, going on 20 years old; he was 17 goin on 18. Understandably as someone who’s been groomed and also, yk, THE FACT HE LIED FOR 6 MONTHS over this made us split up. During our time dating though I had a friend named… let’s say T. I let K and T meet early on in my relationship; my best friend and my boyfriend, I’d hoped they get along.

Nope.

T used me as an emotional drop off of sorts and I was basically his only half decent support system. K didn’t really do emotions at all so like… hella different. T liked online rp and I indulged in it with him cause why not. He often rp’d snuggling with me and whatnot but it always stayed platonic. Until it got more suggestive, or unless he was having like a mental break of sorts. He rp’d trying to kill me once! K liked bossing me around, or leaving me on read for 6+ hours in favor of shows, friends, games… yeah. I wasn’t too satisfied. Anyways we tried a poly for NOT EVEN 12 hours. Within the first 5 minutes of all 3 of us consenting to trying a poly relationship, I’d went off to make dinner or some shit I don’t recall exactly what, BUT THOSE TWO ALREADY STARTED RP’ING SEX. Obviously I was hurt, because like it was THAT quick, and no one came to me about it, and then when T wanted his turn with me later that night I was like “sure why not” and we got a begrudging consent from K. I’d tried reaching out to K many times that night, he just kept ignoring me. Eventually that fell Al the fuck apart and it was so that K and T didn’t talk and I was middle manning. K left T ghosted, T got upset and I never brought it up to K (my bad, totally in the wrong there). Eventually my patience with the whole situation runs out and I drop T. Completely. I stay with K.

A few months later I break up with K. During my relationship with K, I still miss T and wonder how he’s doing, wishing I could get a hold of him without raising alarms anywhere because I miss my friend. A month after K and I break up I check my calendar; T’s birthday is in a couple days. I still have his number. I wait and text him happy bday on the 5th of January, and he’s utterly shocked I got contact with him again. Even more shocked K and I broke up. He says he doesn’t blame me; it was a crappy situation and I just chose to stay loyal to my man. He said he respected that. He tells me he’s in therapy now. And we keep talking. January 8th, we try dating again.

This has been the most emotionally fulfilling relationship I’ve ever been in, but also very… I dunno. Weird? Odd?? Like 2 months ago we weren’t talking but now we’re back to planning a future with each other (something we’d joked about as friends). I’ve helped him through a lot of mental stuff again already, but it’s worth it. But now there’s my mental stuff and I don’t wanna dump my shit on him but I also need to tell someone about it all but no one gets it.

[rukistarz]

✩ STAR DIARY - entry one - 15.2.23 ✩

im going out tomorrow, and im going to be doing a bunch of walking, which is kinda worrying because i woke up today super weak and dizzy. it was hard to walk around and stuff, but after taking some salts and waiting a bit, i started to feel better. i expect the same thing tomorrow, but today i literally didn’t do any walking, so i think that’s why i feel better, im worried about walking around too much tomorrow and feeling worse. i plan on having salts in the morning, drinking coffee and having a monster so i have energy throughout the day, and taking breaks if i get super dizzy, since im going to be alone tomorrow, and hopefully that’ll be enough.

it’s pretty ironic since im not that far into my fast anyway, im only on my fourth day, you know ? i wonder if i’ll just get used to it and it won’t happen anymore or if it’ll just get worse. im obviously wishing for the former since i have to babysit frequently and i need to go out next week too, and do a bunch of walking. and to add, i’ll be with friends who i don’t want to rouse suspicion of by taking constant breaks. though, im looking forward to it! we’re going to a cute cat cafe, and will end it off with a bit of shopping at a huge mall that it’s near. we’ll also be doing a gift exchange since it was my birthday and my friend’s birthday is coming up, so it’s a joint birthday outing, and im really excited. that’s the only plus to the day, but i hope it’s enough to keep me going.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

same day, i have more on my mind.

i feel sick for thinking like this, but im literally sick in the head anyway so like…

my sister is on a weightloss journey, and my family thinks im on one too (it’s the only way i can get out of eating fatty foods that they offer me) so, she always comes to me regarding her weightloss updates and stuff. she shows me her body-checks and stuff, she even looks at fitspo (she obviously doesn’t call it that) and talks about her progress, right ? she never really asks about mine, i think she kinda just wants someone to word vomit her excitement on her progress to, and i don’t really like to bring myself up anyway. she doesn’t live near me and we see each other every few weeks, sometimes even months. i really want the next time i see her to be at a time where i’ve dropped a significant amount, you know ? like, way more than her, lmao. that’s why i feel bad.

the other thing that i wanted to vent ab, that kinda ties in, is that i really wanna just be myself, and be okay with that, you know ? like, i’ve never in my entire life, even as a kid, wanted to be me. i used to want to be white as a kid (im black and i’ve grown to love my skin colour now) and i would fully and wholeheartedly believe that one day when i grew up i’d wake up and be white, lmao. i also wanted to be my best friend who was really popular in my school, i don’t mean be like her, i mean BE her. it’s honestly embarrassing, that eventually turned over to celebrities too and it kept going like that, and then after a fuck ton of bullying in high school, for my looks and weight (which didn’t help my case), i developed an ed, and now want to be the thinspo i see everywhere. i think it’s the first achievable thing tho, you know ? like, i can’t literally change my skin colour (which i don’t want to do anymore btw!!) i can’t literally become someone else, but i can be thinspo. because thinspo isn’t a person, it’s a bunch of different people who are perceived in such a way because of their body, and that’s who i want to be. and when im that, eventually, i’ll wanna be me. i also feel bad bc i want people to envy me the way i envy others, i want people to wish to be like me, but to not be able to achieve it because it’s literally impossible no matter how much they try. the best they can do is try to be like me, but not actually me.

im so toxic, what the actual fuck.

✩ blessing you with a starry night, ruki ✩

[shadowybouquetluminary-blog]

Birthday Night

Birthday Night! Taj, Stacey- girlfriend, Jazz

Taj-Today is my birthday and I just turned dirty 30. I’ve been contemplating on what to do, whether I want to go out and get fucked up, chill at home and take it easy which honestly I don’t think is an option. I don’t even know if Stacey has anything planned for real. Things have been steady but there have been a lot more downs than ups, so I’m not even banking on anything happening. The messed up part to that is when she does plan something it’s usually something she likes or wants to do, she doesn’t consider me which is pretty fucked up but I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt because today is my day! My phone started buzzing and ringing with a shit load of happy birthdays which made me feel extremely loved and appreciated. From text messages to calls and shout-outs on social media. I was hoping to hear from one person in particular but wasn’t sure if I was going to, no judgment someone I met in passing as I was at Starbucks! Her name is Jazz, I was intrigued by her, she was different from what I was used to but I was in a situation where she wasn’t. Plus she didn’t want to overstep bc of that. So she kept her distance and didn’t communicate with me too tough just out of respect for my relationship.

Just then my mom called to wish me a happy birthday and to see if she could take me to brunch, both our favorites. I said sure mom, I always have time for you…., we made a plan to meet up at our favorite brunch spot toast at Lenox. We sat and talked for a while, she asked me about Stacey, what was going on with our relationship, plans for the evening, etc. I told her I wasn’t sure about her bc of how selfish she is, she doesn’t pay attention to me and things I like or even need from her which aggravates the hell out of me. She said well you have to do what makes you happy and if it’s time to move on then do so but if you want to stick it out give yourself a time limit and if nothing changes then that’s when you need to make a decision. Time waits for nobody and life is too short to be in a shitty relationship. And this is one of the reasons I love you mom, thanks for the advice. 

After brunch, Stacey called me “happy birthday baby…. I made reservations for us this evening at a restaurant dinner is at 7 pm. I said ok good where? she said Kyma. Stacey you know I’m not crazy about that place that’s somewhere you like to eat. She responded and said since when you don’t like it there, I said baby… every time we go there it’s always something and I’m not crazy about the food selection. I just said whatever, before she could even say anything, I just said I will see you there at 7 and hung up.

As I was home getting ready I got a text from Jazz, she was the one I wanted to hear from. The message said hey I know it’s super last minute but wanted to see if you wanted to hang out this evening, at 8, here’s the address if you can make it. Short and sweet, but no mention of my birthday or anything. I liked the message and then texted back not sure if I can I have dinner plans at 7 pm. I saw the dots going and I was waiting for the message but nothing ever came in. 

Jazz- I didn’t know how to respond so I just didn’t. The place I planned on taking him to is called Speakeasy body Electric Event, which happens the first weekend of every month. It’s crazy bc I’ve lived in Atlanta for 5 years now and still get surprised by some of the events that are here. One of my best friends sent me a message about it bc she knows I like stuff like this. I looked a little further into it and it looked interesting. I wanted to experience this place with someone I liked so that’s where Taj came in, in my mind, I said why not. Obvious reasons but I didn’t tell him what it was first and then I wasn’t sure whether he was even going to show up.

Taj- I was curious about where she wanted to hang out, anything is better than going to that restaurant. I thought hard about it, I’ll just see how the night pans out and go from there plus she never responded to me so I’m not sure what to think. I finished getting dressed, put on my favorite cologne-Dolce & Gabbana Blue, brushed my waves, through on my polo boots, jeans, and a nice button-down shirt. I grabbed my keys and wallet and headed out to meet Stacey, as I was driving, I got a call from Stacey saying she will be a little late, I was instantly annoyed, I said ok and hung up, she called back, did you just hang up on me? I said yes I did bc I’m fucking annoyed, it’s my birthday, and you pick a place I don’t like and then your late, make it make sense, please. Baby don’t be mad at me. Just as she was whining in my ear another call was coming through it was Jazz, I told Stacey I have to go I’ll see you later, and clicked over. I cleared my throat and said hello, hey there Taj, what’s going on? I said heading to dinner with Stacey what’s up? She said I was just wondering whether you were coming out tonight? I said I’m still not sure, she said ok well keep me posted please so if need be I can replace you as I giggled. I said damn Jazz you be moving like that, she said straight like that…… I said ok I’m not mad at that, but I definitely will. She said ok cool, talk soon. Got to the restaurant, valeted my car, and walked straight to the bar where I had a couple of drinks. I also blazed one up on my way there so I was feeling pretty nice but with Stacey being fashionably late it quickly blew my high, this chick didn’t get there until 7:45, and as soon as I saw her I said what the fuck, it's my fucking bday, 45 minutes late! She started whining baby you know it takes me a while to get ready….. I said you know what, I’m good, I’m not doing this with you tonight, I’m out! Just then she said you're leaving me here by myself, he said yes deal with it, you messed up my birthday bc once again you didn’t think of me but yourself! Your selfish as fuck and right now I don’t want to be around you. Figure it out yourself. I walked off and I hear her calling me and saying baby I’m sorry come back please, I didn’t respond nor turn around, I got in my car and raced over to the address Jazz sent me and thought hell anything is better than this shit.

Jazz- I was super shocked when I got a text from Taj saying he was on his way bc it was about 8:45, I was in route myself and decided to go not knowing whether he would show up, figured I would go and wait a few minutes then go in and see what all the hype was about. I didn't do too much with my outfit but still looked sexy, I decided to wear a blue denim mini skirt, and a white crop top with ice blue low-top Jordan 1's. Made sure my legs, underarms, and pussy was shaved. Can't forget the matching black bra and thong set. I sprayed some Tommy girl perfume on and accessorized it with silver jewelry. It was a warm summer night. I Wore my hair down with a split on the side. Lite makeup, lipgloss, and some mascara. I felt super cute. I pulled up to the valet and Taj pulled up right behind me. I glanced over, I swear I almost forgot how fine his ass was. 

Taj- wait this chick was not this fine, it had been I think about 8 months since I had seen her bc we always communicate through text messages. I was digging the outfit she had on, I felt a bit overdressed but all good. The valet parking attendant took my keys and gave me a ticket. I walked over to her and stuck my hand out, she gave me a look, pushed my hand and hugged me, and said happy birthday Taj and gave me a gift bag. I said thank you so much I appreciate it. I immediately looked in the bag, there were a few miniature bottles of different liquor, my favorite snack, and a gift card to Amazon. I was grateful and surprised bc it was just meaningful. She smelled delightful and showed just enough to leave something to my imagination. I finally asked her what this place was, and she took my hand and said let's go we are going to experience this together. We went inside and it was definitely a whole vibe, there was music playing in the background, I believe the song was "All for you" by Amaria- dope song!

Jazz- I couldn't help myself this nigga decided to extend his hand out when he saw me and I pushed his hand out the way and gave him a big hug, mmmmm....mmmmm…mmmm … he smelled like heaven, I'm a sucker for a man that smells good, such a turn on. I can tell he was a little taken aback by it but he embraced me... I said happy birthday buddy and gave him a little gift bag... he took the bag and chuckled and said I wasn't sure whether you remembered, I said I did, so hope you enjoy this it's also my first time so we are doing this together. We walked inside and it was a bit dim, this beautiful young lady checked us in and explained what they were all about and at the end she said, just relax, let go of all the outside noise and enjoy the vibes. We looked at each other and then at her and said thank you. I turned to Taj and said you ready, I need you to be relaxed ok, and just have a good time cool? He said bet, I can tell the hesitation and curiosity, I said it's ok... hell in my mind I was nervous as fuck too but one of us had to be good. We walked into the room and saw couples sitting at different paint stations including a paint board with two glasses, wine, paint brushes and to make it fun the room was fluorescent, foxy brown get me home was playing as we walked in. I was checking the scene and everyone looked beautiful, dancing to the music. We worked our way to our post. We put our things down and I grabbed him and joined some of the other people who were dancing..., we both swayed to the song , we both sang, gotta get you home with me tonight... then the dj remixed it into Ll cool j - doing it. everyone went wild and got up and started dancing. I danced close to Taj, and I can tell he was enjoying himself, I know I was. The instructor came in and the music was turned off. The instructor got on the mic and gave us instructions and said ok guys this is a safe place, no shaming or bullying goes on in here if you can't abide by the rules you will be kicked out. No is no. As long as you abide by the rules we are all good.

Strip down to your comfort, there's absolutely no pressure to get butt-ass naked. As long as you follow by the rules, all is good, if everybody understands let me get some snaps 🫰🏾. Everyone snapped and the instructor said well then let's get this thang started, dj let's go! The dj started playing 90's music htown knocking boots, then went into usher lover and friends. Someone had to break the ice bc I think everyone was a bit nervous and intimidated so I took it upon myself to start taking my clothes off while I moved my body to the song, Taj looked at me like I was crazy but I knew he liked the fact that I just went for it. He just looked at me with his sexy eyes and smiled, I said I see you enjoying this huh? He laughed and said maybe just a little bit. Then I decided to slowly unbutton his shirt, surprisingly I didn’t get any kickback from him, which I was grateful for but then I thought at this point we were already here, if he didn’t want to do this I would think he would’ve just said no right?? my thought process as I was taking his shirt off, just then florety came on say yes- I definitely was feeling like a whole vibe, I stopped undressing him and continued on myself, my top was off already, I proceeded to take my sneakers and socks off, I’m left with my bra, skirt, and underwear on. Thankfully it was pretty dark in there but the Fluorescent paint made it lighter in the room. It was so dope the other couples were grooving and doing their own thing. I just focused on Taj. I took the paint brush dipped it in the neon green paint and started painting his biceps, I must say he was fit, like fit fit and the tattoos made it sexier. I just drew whatever I wanted to on him as he just looked at me, I asked him if he was okay. He responded and said fuck yeah I am….. I grinned and said good.

Taj- I promise I didn’t know what I was getting into but I just wanted to have a good time. We walked into the place, got the instructions and I thought to myself wow, I’m about to see this chick’s body which looked amazing in clothes so I can’t even imagine it without… but wasn’t sure how far she would go, hell I told myself I would get down to my boxers that’s it. As the music played everyone was a bit hesitant to start but she jumped it off and everybody followed, natural leader, love it. She swayed her body to the music as she took her shirt off and then she just went ahead and took her kicks and socks off. She unbuttoned my shirt as she looked at me, it was so fucking sexy, I love a woman with confidence! She then went back to tending to herself. As she unbuttoned her skirt and seductively pulled it down she moved her body to the music. At this point, she’s almost naked and I still have my pants on. Some other people were also taking their time. Her body was like wooooo !! She said to get comfortable, take your pants off, so I went ahead and took my pants off, thankfully I had my good boxer briefs in. She scooted the bar stool closer to me where she was sitting directly in front of me. Super close with her legs open, and yes she had a matching black lace bra and thong underwear. I dipped the paintbrush in the neon pink paint and dusted the brush over her shoulders down to her arms as she sat there, then me being the gentleman I am I asked her if I can paint other places, and she said yes it’s all about the experience, plus you're the birthday boy, so have at it!!! I said say less! As I got another brush for a different color she took her bra off. Man, I’m in my head my thoughts were getting away from me…. I grazed the brush on her chest down to her breast and circled her nipples and then on top of that, I heard her moan and the shit was so sensual, I said how are you feeling, dumb question I know but I was curious to hear what she was going to say, she said honestly, I said yes please, she said this shit is getting me horny as hell!! I said really, knowing damn well I was feeling the same effects as well, l had to ask myself if the opportunity arose would I smash??? But I quickly went back into what I was doing, I asked her, do you mind standing up for me I have some places I need to paint. She laughed and said I sure can, I'll do one better, and she took her underwear off. Mannnn....... well then ok..... I can work a lot better.

Jazz - I decided ahead of time that I was just going to step out of my comfort zone, fuck it, what happens happens. So with that said I sure did get butt-ass naked, he still had his boxers on which was fine, I stood up and Taj asked me to turn around, he was so fucking polite which was nice, made me want to fuck him more. I turned around and bent over and I felt the brush on my ass cheeks and then I felt his fingers gaze my pussy to my ass, I was surprised but I welcomed it, I was soaking wet so I know he liked that, he continued to touch me with his fingers softly, I felt two fingers caressing me, I wasn't any better bc I started rocking back and forth hoping he would slide his fingers in me. I had to bite my button lip to not make any noise. He was being so good not trying to finger me. I know it's fucked up but I wanted to fuck him and I determined to. I decided to turn around in the original position I was in when we started, sitting in front of him with my legs open to give him a better view. I said, I think I want to paint you a bit is that ok, he said sure, I placed his hands on my thighs, just in case he wanted to touch me, he kept them there for a few minutes then started running his hands up and down my thighs and then between, I rotated my hips as he touched me to eg him on more, I whispered to Taj I want you to finger me, nobody will see plus everybody is doing their own thing..... I pulled back some and looked at him and took his ring and middle fingers in my mouth, licked it, and then placed it in my pussy, my pussy was already wet I didn't need any help with getting it wet I was just being nasty lol..... I rocked my hips as I tried to stay focused on painting him, he started slow then started going a bit faster, fuck..... he was pleasured by watching me, he said I want you to cum for me.... I said no not yet, he said yes remember I'm the birthday boy I should get what I want... I said is that all you want ... he said no... I want to taste you and feel you on my dick... right as I was about to come, the instructor came by and asked if we were good, he moved his hand to my thighs before he can see, I laughed and said yes we are thank you, he said ok, just checking with a huge grin on his face. Just as he walked away I took Taj's hand and took him to a back room I saw earlier when I went to the restroom. 

Taj- Yooooo this chick... I swear this is nothing that I've experienced before, she led me to a secluded room, that just had a futon in it. She pulled me in and closed and locked the door. I said lay down, she said no, he came a little closer to me and said lay down I said, I don't like to repeat myself. She looked at me and said No, I then proceeded to pick her up and lay her on the bed. She just giggled like a little kid. I opened her legs and touched her pussy and said shit you always this wet... she said yes if I'm attracted to you and we have a sexual connection. I couldn't wait to taste her, I removed my fingers and slid her down to the edge of the bed, and buried my head in her pussy..... yo she tasted so good, I couldn't help myself... I turned her around and ate her out from the back and finger fucked her at the same time she had to cum at least 3 times. 

Jazz- like wtf- I thought he wasn't ready for me but it was the total opposite, I wasn't ready for him, this dude made me cum with just his fingers and tongue. I was so ready to feel his dick. I finally got a chance to get him on the bed and I was trying to pleasure him but instead, he wanted to get into 69 position. I was sucking his dick and I know he enjoyed it bc of how he was holding on to my legs and eating me out, he said, turn around and get on this dick, I eased my pussy on him. And started riding him, I leaned forward to get a little comfortable and controlled and began to move faster. He moved his hips with mine. Within 10-15 minutes he whispered and said he was about to cum, I got off of him and let him cum in my mouth as I sucked his dick. I swallowed every bit of it. He pulled me up to him and kissed me. Just then we heard people whispering and trying to get in probably to do the same thing.  We laughed and got up and went back to our post where we finished up the night... after we went and grabbed something to get at eat a nearby diner, where we just sat and talked. By this time it was super late, I said my apologies I kept you out later than expected I'm sure you have people worried about you, he had turned his phone off when he met me at the spot and while at the diner he put it back on and the number of dings from messages and voicemails I laughed at him and said why did you turn your phone off, he said I didn't want to be distracted and I didn't want to be accessible. I said well birthday boy it is late and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, so I'm going to head home, he said yeah I get that me too... I said this was nice, thanks for sharing the experience with me.... I had a great time. He said ditto..... he walked me to my car and gave me a long hug.... I kissed him on the cheek and said have a good night....