#the 4K quality murdered me

[alexturntable]

Spanish GP - Quali - 22 June 2024 📷 ScuderiaFerrari (edited)

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Remus/Sirius Fluff Masterlist | Works With Less Than 5k Words [1/3]

find the masterlist directory here

last updated: 07/30/24 | links last checked: 07/30/24

13 paper boats floating in the sea (+2 that reached you) by justprompts [T, 4k]

It's like this. Sirius loves Remus. Remus loves Sirius. Lily thinks Remus and Sirius should date. (She also thinks James Potter is quite fit.) Meanwhile, James thinks that Sirius and Lily are snogging behind greenhouse three. (podfic available)

*A Proposal by Bob_The_Other_Zombie [G, 2k]

Sirius has a love problem and asks James for advice. What happens when you add in pregnant Lily, pantsless Peter, candles, one pot of nearly-boiled water, snogging, Remus’ favorite record, multiple unknown kitchen devices, and a very bad pun? One very confused werewolf, is what!

A Sirius Case of Jealousy by WolfstarPups90 [T, 1k]

Remus has a new job and Sirius has a bit of a jealousy issue.

all alone on the edge of seventeen by nikkiRA [T, 3k]

He is seventeen and in love.

All I Want For Christmas by REwrites [T, 2k]

Sirius chews the inside of his cheek as he stares down a row of Christmas cards in the shop around the corner for his office and tries not to feel like the world’s biggest arse. He wishes he hadn’t waited to the last minute to do this, but when he pulled Remus Lupin’s name out of the hat for the office-wide Secret Santa exchange he’d panicked. A short story in which Sirius is awkward, Remus is sneaky, and James is no help at all.

*All Dogs Go to Remus' Flat, Apparently by iamsiriusblackserious [G, 1k]

“Now, before you murder me and distribute my body parts across Britain, you should know that he followed me home and none of this is my fault,” Sirius says. “Your defense is that a strange dog followed you home and so you had no choice but to let him into our flat?” “Well, when you say it like that, it just sounds irresponsible!” “Brilliant, that’s exactly what I was going for.” or Remus comes home to find a strange dog sitting on his couch and he's Not Happy.

Already Fallen by LightsOut [E, 1k]

Remus Lupin had a plan. He was not going to fall for Sirius Black in any sense of the word.

And a Peacock in a Glass Tree by Tpants [E, 4k]

Remus probably shouldn't have thrown Sirius out of bed. Lily helps Sirius out. Sirius learns to carol.

And When You Get the Choice by iamsiriusblackserious [T, 3k]

After weeks of studying for and sitting their NEWT exams, Sirius finally gets some quality time with his boyfriend. That is, if Remus can actually manage to stay awake. Winding down after NEWTs, slow dancing but not really, and symbolic key bequeathing.

Apollonian and Dionysian. by rearwindow [G, 2k]

“Yeah… Well, it’s like I’m light and you are darkness.”

*As It Should Be by remuslives23 [G, 2k]

John Lupin had expected it, had been waiting for it ever since he caught Remus sneaking soiled sheets into the washing machine when he was thirteen and, at his wife's amused insistence, had sat him down for a halting talk about the birds and the bees.

Bad Day by orphan_account [G, 1k]

Professor Remus Lupin's day had been one of the worst. All he wanted was a nice relaxing bath and a few moments to forget. Luckily he's got a very doting husband who can help him do just that.

Bandages by FreakishWhale [G, 1k]

A world where everyone is born with the First Words their soulmate will ever speak to them inked onto their skin, to be kept hidden until they are spoken and burn black.

between the moon and the stars by llassah [M, 2k]

The summer before their sixth year, and everything changes and stays the same.

*Black Winter and Golden Dreams by huldrejenta [G, 2k]

When you're young and in love, sometimes even Sirius Black would like some advice.

Boys by oliverdalstonbrowning [G, 2k]

Remus is reminded of the truth and Sirius plays Space Oddity.

*Breathless by NachoDiablo [T, 2k]

Sirius is confident that their first date with Remus is going to be memorable, and it is… just not in the ways they expect. (sequel to Worth the Itch)

Built My Dreams Around You by templeg [M, 1k]

A deeply embarrassing lapdance in the middle of the Gryffindor common room leads to much more.

*Caught by Phiso [G, 4k]

Sirius Black was the thief no one could catch – at least, not until he met his match in Detective Inspector Remus Lupin.

Chocolate Love by therunawaypen [T, 1k]

After serving a night in detention, Sirius brings back a sweet treat for Remus to enjoy while he's studying. If Sirius enjoys it too, all the better.

Common Cuddles for a Common Cold by LadyAmina [G, 1k]

Most of the student body has fallen ill with a common cold. Sirius is just feeling it a lot louder. But Remus helps.

copycats by ybrows [T, 1k]

Sirius is a trend setter. Sirius is a trend setter that doesn’t seem to notice it, or care, or make any comment towards the fact that he wore his hair in a ponytail last week and now half the school have styled their hair in exactly the same way. Remus cares.

da mi basia mille by scioscribe [t, 2k]

“There’s a Roman bloke, Catullus, who wrote about snogging a lesbian, or something like that, and anyway, he said da mi basia mille, give me a thousand kisses, and I spelled it. Ensorceled it. Made it into a thingy.” He pushed the envelope up towards Remus’s mouth. “Say the Latin part and kiss it.”

Dadfoot & Moomum by jlpierre [T, 4k]

A four year old Harry Potter, in the care of his guardians Sirius and Remus, experiences a series of Halloween activities to distract the adults from their grief.

*Daring, Brave, and Genius by elle_stone [G, 1k]

It’s been a month since they’ve seen each other, all four Marauders—daring, brave, genius—and prone to dreaming up ridiculous plans and then jumping into them without thinking any of the details through.

Despite The Lightning by A Sirius Crush On Moony [T, 1k]

Remus and Sirius are dating. It's the first day back at school and Remus just wants one thing.

*Drunk on Love by muse_in_absentia [T, 4k]

Post second war AU in which Remus cheats at baking, Padfoot plays in the snow, and Christmas jumpers combined with mulled wine may lead to something old becoming something new.

*Ever After by busaikko [T, 3k]

Non-magic AU. Once upon a time, an astrophysicist was wooed by the gay Scheherazade. . .

Eyebrows by BeesKnees [T, 2k]

In which James seduces Remus (sort of), and Sirius blames the whole bloody mess on James (mostly).

*Finest in Fairford by bluepeony [G, 4k]

Remus Lupin's job in a Fairford coffee shop is always uneventful, until an exotic new customer begins leaving messages with his tips.

*Fiery-Coloured World by orphan_account [M, 2k]

And though Remus had a thick jumper and coat, they were still soaked and frozen as they ran across the pavement, laughing with their cold fingers clinging to each other like it was Noah’s bloody flood and they were about to be swept away. Then someone—Sirius was never sure who, though he often liked to take credit for it—closed the distance and lips met lips. And that was all it took, really. Besotted. Smitten. Twitterpated—the word Remus liked most of all. Sirius knew it would be minutes, moments, seconds before his heart told him he was in love and there was no going back from the emotional tidal wave that was Remus bloody Lupin.

Friends, Lovers, and Various Permutations Thereof by Tillikins [T, 2k]

Celebrating the end of NEWTs! Sirius asks Remus to room with him after school.

*denotes personal favorites

[kendrene]

Her personal phone buzzes almost as soon as they end the call. True to her word, Sam has already sent her an email.

Lena scrolls through it and logs into her Spotify account to peruse the selection. Sam has linked some True Crime shows — while hearing about murders may give her some fresh ideas on how to dispose of Sam's body, Lena doesn’t think they’ll help her sleep — several horror ones —  “are you fucking kidding me?” — and no less than five finance focused podcasts.

The latter may actually put her to sleep, Lena isn't sure the quality of her rest will be improved.

She's about to write back and admit it was a legitimately good prank, when her eyes fall on a link at the very bottom of the email.

I think this one's right up your alley, Sam wrote, punctuating the statement with a ;) Give it a shot!

Lena sighs and clicks on it without bothering to see what it's about.

Can't be worse than the others, can it?

She presses play.

"These ancient stars are incredibly dense." A woman's voice fills her office. "So dense in fact that a teaspoon of their matter would weigh as much on our planet as an elephant— 5.5 tons to be exact. Can you imagine?" The speaker laughs, soft yet bright. "White dwarfs are tiny too, if compared to the sun we're all familiar with. Typically, their radius is .01 times that of Sol. Mass wise they are about the same."

Lena pauses the recording and releases a breath she hasn’t realized she was holding. For a moment, the stranger's voice transported her elsewhere. To the top of a quiet hill, a sailboat at sea, away from the city and the headache pounding against her skull and L-Corp's very pressing problems. Someplace where it is already night, where this unknown woman is sitting next to her, whispering the ancient secrets of the stars in Lena's ear.

A quick internet search — the podcast is aptly named Starstruck—  yields a photo and a name.

Dr. Kara Z. Danvers, graduate cum laude of UC Berkeley and one of the youngest astrophysicists in the country, is a tall, handsome-looking blonde with shoulders for days, and the sort of perfect smile that’d put a dentist out of business. Her eyes are such a vibrant oceanic blue she seems to be staring out of Lena's laptop screen and right into her soul. Lena feels, somehow, that she should already know her.

Fuck. She inhales Kara’s accompanying biography slack-jawed.

She’s exactly her type, too.

You could have put her podcast at the top, Lena types to Sam, unable to tear her eyes away from the photo. Actually, she could have been your only suggestion.

I know, Sam sends back, almost immediately. I wanted you to suffer a little.

I hate you.

Will you still hate me after I tell you she has a Youtube channel too?

Lena types up an answer, deletes it. Types it up again — some slightly more colorful language included — and doesn’t hit send.

Thought so.

Sam is lucky that there’s a country between them.

One extra round of Googling later, Lena pulls up the YouTube channel in question, which makes things a 100% better, but also 1000% worse. Because now she has visuals — now she can watch Kara talk about the mysteries of the universe in crystalline clear 4k resolution. She stares enraptured as Kara talks about solar eclipses and climbs the sheer side of a mountain in the Italian Dolomites in a tight tank-top, all bronzed arms and powerful back muscles. The moment she gets to the top and turns to the horizon, the shot panning dramatically to take in the view, the montage shifts forward into night.

A different angle. There’s so much noise the camera can barely pick up the shot. Kara points to a light hovering shy of the nearest peak, and as the image zooms past her finger to bring it into focus, she explains the concept of planet alignment.

The screen fades to black, changes to a feed of Kara walking along the crest, her shoulder camera shuddering a little with each step. Another climb, this time by moonlight, and Lena’s heart is racing every step of the way. But, seemingly bottomless ravine right at her feet notwithstanding, Kara is calm — collected. She leans against the cairn at the very end of her trek as the sun is breaking over the horizon. Looks straight into the camera and smiles. Pink, otherworldly light illuminates her.

She isn’t even out of breath.

“Miss Luthor?” Red-handed, Lena jumps and shuts the laptop’s lid. It’s only Jess. “I, uh, was going to go home? If there’s nothing else?” Jess frowns at her tablet, then at Lena’s face which must be burning supernova-bright. “Are you alright?’

“Yes. yes of course.” God, it’s well past 6. Did Lena really just waste her afternoon on YouTube? “And no. There’s nothing else. You can go home.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Positive.” Lena cautiously re-opens her laptop. The video looped back to the start and froze on a frame of Kara halfway through the first climb. “Please, close the door on the way out.” She ought to watch it a few more times, Lena thinks, hitting resume as soon as Jess ducks out of the office. To better understand its concepts.

For science.

She goes through the rest of Kara’s content like a madwoman, and Sam was right, it helps her sleep, but she runs out of things to consume in a matter of days.

Lena is addicted. She’s a junkie and she’s hooked. Without her fix she becomes intolerable to be around.

The Venus transition - Lena is a CEO with insomnia. Kara is an astrophycisist with a podcast. OR A different Supergirl reveal. Read it on Patreon.

[jacqcrisis]

i apologize for all the posts about r/banpitbulls but i need to get my thoughts out there cause it is WILD and it’s hurting my brain how conspiratorial that subreddit is. I'll put it all under the readmore to not be annoying.

a) they believe the several breeds collectively under the bully breed moniker are actually all the same kind of dog, have no distinction whatsoever, and separating them into their established breeds (staffies, amstaffs, APBT’s, american bullies, bull terriers, dogo argentinos, etc etc etc) is trying to muddy the waters and is a tactic for the pitnutters to explains away the all knowing statistics

b) they believe in the 1 drop rule, where any dog with any amount of bully in them is basically a monster and needs to be drawn and quartered euthanized or at the very least sterilized, muzzled, and never allowed withing 30 feet of anyone not wearing plate mail.

c) they believe there is some kind of well funded pit-lobby who is paying off journalists for pro-pitbull thinkpieces to convince people to...idk, adopt more dogs? the goals and who is funding said lobby or even in it are never really discussed. it just exists and evilly wants you, yes you, to fork out 100 bucks to the local non-profit shelter for a pit-mix which makes money for... absolutely no one.  

d) they believe pitbulls are uniquely violent and every single dog who falls in that category is just waiting to eat a baby. 

e) never talk about any other dog violence and seem to believe every other mauling or significant bite is just mislabeled (as it should’ve been labelled a pit) or a freak accident (though this is obviously not extended to pitbulls whose bites are calculated, premeditated, and sadistic)

f) believe that pitbulls have a switch that can possibly happen at any time to make then tear your face off. Even though the vast majority of the dogs in that grouping will never have a significant problem (out approximately 18 million in the US, you have around 4k bites reported in a year and 30ish deaths in the same time), this doesn’t matter since that .001% could kill you while you were sleeping so every dog that even has a whiff of ‘pitbull’ is a severe risk and should not be trusted around anyone ever. Yes, including Peachy, the slightly overweight 10 year old dog at your local dog park who spends the whole time there waddling after her owner with a ball in her mouth. That one especially.

g) the fault lies entirely on the breed(s) and can never be fixed. pitbulls have no redeeming qualities whatsoever, anyone who says they do have been brainwashed by the shadowy pit-lobby, and all the dogs should either be euthanized or sterilized to extinction. the fact that these are the most abused groups of dogs means basically zero because they aren’t actually domesticated dogs, instead are all completely secretly feral (source: bro trust me) and should be placed in the same category as people keeping a lion as a pet.

h) don’t ever talk about the prey drive in all dogs or that most dogs will attack any small animal it can get its mouth on if not properly socialized and/or desensitized. if a pitbull kills a cat that wandered into its yard, it is because the pitbull is uniquely cruel and evil. no other breed is ever mentioned and are apparently perfect angels who would never hurt a fly and I guess my childhood aussie/border collie mix who we had to muzzle on walks because she wanted to murder every dog she locked eyes on was secretly a pitbull in disguise.

i) constantly tout the 65% of all dog related deaths vs being 6% of the population statistic. This statistic is taken from the amount of US incidents from 2005 to 2017, where pitbulls, over TWELVE YEARS caused 284 deaths. Any other year before or after this is not mentioned and it is always these twelve years and fails to consider recent estimates put bullys up to 20% of the US dog population.

j) they often call pitbull owners aggressive and cruel and stupid and brutish and sadistic and lacking in empathy ‘just like their dogs’ which is interesting becasue bully breeds are incredibly cheap and easy to get and are generally most commonly found in cities in poorer populations, most historically non-white neighborhoods. idk just kind of weird they seem so fucking mad at a dog breed stereotypically found in POC households (in the US) while also really REALLY comfortable with calling the dog’s owners aggressive and dumb... 

It’s just...staggering. I feel like a stumbled upon a rabbit hole, but the rabbits are all conspiracy theorists who look at dog mauling videos and photos all day and who all seem to not understand how dogs or animals even work. While also being a little bit racist and classist. 

Bully breeds don’t have ‘switch’; they are dogs with good and bad days and a lot of external factors go into dog attacks and a lot of bites can be lessened with proper care and attention given, like not leaving your children around ANY dog that outweighs them in pure muscle and getting your dog neutered/spade. A lot of the fatalities are a result of negligent owners, abused animals (of which pitbulls are the most likely group of dogs to be abused), and/or freak incidents, and even non-pitbull dogs kill small children and the elderly every year for the same reasons. Given the staggering amount of bullies in the US, if they were uniquely dangerous, then a LOT MORE violent incidents toward people would occur every year, but they don't, proven by how you have to lump over a decade's worth of numbers for the big "damning" golden statistic which...

The reason why the golden statistic is only from 2005-2017 is because in the years preceding that, Rottweilers made up a larger percentage of dog-related fatalities, sometimes even outpacing 'pitbulls' on some years as the ‘big bad dog’ changes with public opinion, dog breed popularity, and time. The reason you see so many pit-bull related attacks over similar incidents with other breeds in the news is because they garner the most attention as other non-pitbull dog-related deaths have occurred THIS YEAR but they get a quarter of the news articles as the outrage market isn’t as frothing at the mouth for a belgian malinois or a husky killing an infant as it is pitbulls. These dogs are not uniquely evil or violent; they are an animal with higher disposition towards prey drive and dog related aggression combined with a large strong body and determination that requires the same firm training and care as all dog breeds like them but that does not mean each one of them needs to be treated like Hannnibal Lector in sheep's clothing.

This isn’t a problem that would go away if all bully breeds disappeared tomorrow, as evidenced in some large cities with breed specific legislation where dog bites did not decrease significantly, or even increased after the bans. A different breed would take its place. A new dog would become enemy number one. People would still get attacked and harmed and tragedies would still happen.

But that’s the risk when dealing with animals. Dogs are domesticated, but they are still instinctual, non-human predators and they can always pose some form of danger no matter how you breed them. Instead of advocating for mass euthanasia or blanket bans, these people should instead be advocating for better training, better breeding, keeping dogs on leashes, getting dogs neutered, treating these dogs as the large powerful dogs they are, etc etc etc.

But thats too complicated and requires some form of empathy and care for the dog breeds in question. It's a lot easier to come up with a shadowy pit lobby and the mythological switch and label them all 'psychotic feral monsters just waiting to eat babies' and call poor minority people sadistic and cruel for keeping a cheap breed as a family pet/guard dog and watch dog mauling videos all day then it is to do a little more research and learn a single thing about how dogs work.

[youarejesting]

Even the Cake is in tiers

Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Namjoon  Jin x Reader Genre: fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, almost wedding day.  Words: 4k

Summary: About to marry the man of your dreams in less than one week. 90 guests invited. Venue booked. Family overwhelming yet appeased. Nothing could go wrong... unless you count your soon to be mother in law slipping you a cursed present, and inviting your fiances high school sweetheart. The Kim family is full of secrets. 92 Plates set.

[Request] @insfirebunny​ - I strayed a little from your ask I am sorry. I went with cursed instead of demon. I had a lot of fun with the puns, I love Jin just breaking all the awkward silences with a pun, and the reader slowly warming up to them.

This was the most important week of your life, your family and your soon-to-be husband's family were coming together for one week in a huge country club. You were on edge, your fiance was a brilliant businessman, he was a genius, and the kindest man you had the pleasure of meeting. In a week this brilliant, kind, and clumsy young man would be your husband till death do you part.

You met Kim Namjoon in your senior year, you were in a similar department. As a business major yourself there were a lot of opportunities to cross paths. Between the projects and the department dinners, the two of you naturally grew closer. Coffee and studying became dinner and movies as you proudly courted Namjoon like a proper lady. 

Insisting to pay And spoil the young man was the best way to spoil him. Normally he was too shy to speak up about what he wanted, but you were very perceptive. Always noticing the way his eyes would repeatedly glance towards the item or shop. With a small curious lift of his eyebrows, he would press his lips firmly together with a face he made when he read or saw something interesting in a book or movie and a dead giveaway to his interests and desires.

You first made the connection when passing an arcade, Namjoon’s eyes lit up sparkling as he spotted the small blue Koala stuffed toy. He walked closer to the claw machine and you watched his features change into the very same curious expression.

It felt like a rush of satisfaction when you had successfully retrieved the soft plush from the crane and presented it to the beautiful man. It warmed your heart to know that you could make this magnificent guy smile and so you made it your hobby and pastime. You couldn’t be more in love with him and you knew he was in love with you.

The only problem lied with his mother, who was upset that he wanted to marry someone who wasn’t from South Korea. This was understandable, the idea that different was scary was ingrained into most people, you tried to be respectful and always show your best qualities. 

Honestly, you were just hoping that you could keep both sides of the family happy for one week. ONE WEEK. Then you would be married and you could live your lives together. The Country club was full of life, filled with distant relatives from each party and young children running around the grounds pulling pranks on their cousins.

With a polite bow and well-behaved mannerisms, you were on the road to charming Namjoon’s parents. It surprised you how civil they were and how his mother had yet to say something against you. The ladies were enjoying high tea when your mother-in-law presented you with a gift.

A small wooden jewelry box, engraved with strange symbols some you swore felt a little sinister. She gave you instructions to open it later that night when you were alone. Taking her words seriously you were going to fulfill her request hoping not to offend anyone’s traditions.

Leaving the dining hall early with the box in hand you were wondering what could possibly be inside. It was so nice that Namjoon’s mother was so accepting of you, taking the time to get you a gift. 

Shutting the door behind you, you glanced at the garment bag, which housed your wedding dress. It took a while to find the perfect dress but you knew it was the one when it fit everyone's expectations. It was the perfect amount of beautiful and conservative as well as sexy and fun.

Sitting on the large bed you missed cuddling with Namjoon, the two of you had been waiting for marriage and to be honest it wasn’t a big deal. You both were more interested in intertwining your lives than your bodies. Opening the wooden box, the weight increased until it collapsed onto the floor salt spilling onto the floor. You saw footprints in the salt and as they appeared across the floor soon followed ankles, calves, and knees. 

Mesmerized by the man materializing in front of your eyes, at least you believed he was a man. The smirk and the god-tier features on a flawless face. Who was this man and what was he doing in your room? He pulled his plump lips into a pointed grin, his eyes flashing as they landed on your frozen form. His gaze didn’t linger for long before your vision faded.

~

What a strange dream you had, you had heard that brides often had horrible dreams leading up to their wedding but this felt so real. Sitting up from the soft fluffy blankets you squealed when you saw the handsome young man sitting on the beautiful chaise by the window.

“I don’t know how you got into my room, but you need to leave?” Your voice held no authority and no strength, your lips shaking with every breath, tears prickling behind your eyes. “Are you from the Kim Family, I can help you find your room?”

“I am from the Kim family, but I can’t leave your side. You opened the box in which I was captured many years ago.” He said simply enjoying fruit in the sun, you noticed he was wearing traditional Korean clothes and had longer hair. There was something about the way he looked that made him look so ethereal and out of place. 

“Who are you?” You said, sure now that this was some sort of prank being played by the Kim family so you decided to play along.

“Kim Seokjin,” He grinned looking at the door as someone knocked.

“Hello dear, are you coming down for breakfast,” Namjoon’s voice broke you from the daze you fell in when admiring Seokjin’s face?

Running to the door you opened it and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “I will be down soon, let me get dressed.”

~

Walking to the dining hall Seokjin followed you around, it seemed no matter what turn you took, you couldn’t run away. He had however changed his appearance which scared you beyond belief. His long hair was cut short and a fine suit that mirrored the one on the cover of a magazine strewn on the coffee table. Stepping into the dining hall you saw Namjoon’s mother smiling wickedly in the corner as Namjoon was hugging a young woman, the two grinning and talking adamantly.

“Hey Joonie, I am here.” You smiled trying to gain his attention again, you didn’t have to worry, this would be his relative of some kind and you were to be his wife so you had nothing to worry about. Right?

“Hey, Y/n this is my old high school friend Bom, we have been best friends since we were young, I didn’t even know she was coming but mum said it was a surprise. Isn’t that great my soulmate at my wedding?”

Oof that hurt. You knew he didn’t mean it to sound the way it did and you were happy as long as he was happy. Having in fact heard of this friend on multiple occasions from him. She was beautiful and everything you knew Namjoon’s mother wanted in her son’s bride. The leading factor being she was Korean.

“Namjoon tells me so much about you,” You smiled and she shook your hand and grinned. 

“Let me tell you somethings about him then to even the playing field,” Her smile was genuine and she sat at breakfast Seokjin silently taking a seat at the table. She was quick to refuse some food by the waiter, “I can't, I am allergic to seafood.”

“That must be a bit of a hassle.” You didn’t know what to say and the silence was getting awkward. Seokjin chuckled reaching for an apple from the center fruit bowl. “I am glad you are getting your apple-y ever after.”

That did it. Chuckles all around and a small knowing smirk from Namjoon’s mother, Seokjin lied saying his name was Taejin and that he preferred just Jin. 

After breakfast that you pulled Namjoon aside, “Hey Joonie?” you asked

“Yes dear, what is it?”

“Who is Kim Seokjin, your mother was talking about him last night?” The question had been burning in your mind all morning and now that you two were alone you felt safe enough to ask him.

“Haha, did my mother tell you that old story? She is a superstitious woman,” Namjoon was laughing to himself before he gathered himself enough to answer your question seriously. “Back in the day, when Korea was still ruled by monarchs, the Kim family had different uh factions, the noblemen and the servants. One of the Kim Noblemen was supposed to marry the most beautiful young woman in town. But on the day of the wedding a young man named Kim Seokjin, part of the servants of the family, was throwing petals with the other servants and caught the bride's attention.”

“What happened then?” You pressed further watching said man from behind your fiance’s shoulder. As he listened watching the small television in the corner playing a murder mystery K-Drama.

“Well, it was said that Kim Seokjin charmed the woman and stole her from the wedding, stealing her away crying. It was said that when he found his bride he locked Seokjin in an ornate box, a family heirloom passed down through generations.” Namjoon smiled, kissing your cheek enthusiastically. “I have to go, Bom says she is going to challenge me today in golf.”

“I heard you stole someone's bride and were trapped in a box,” you muttered

“Ah is that what they believe, it’s funny how stories change over time. I didn’t steal anyone, she tried to call off the wedding before it even began and in a fit of jealousy I was almost beheaded but was cursed into the box.” Seokjin laughed, “I am not someone who steals someone’s lover.”

“But she looks like she would,” Seokjin muttered while leaning over the balcony, looking down over the side you could see Namjoon laughing at Bom hanging off his arm. Jealousy felt like sickness in the depths of your stomach. A queasy feeling that burnt its way up to your throat.

“Namjoon isn’t like that,” you defended your fiance, he was a sweet bean who only knew how to love with his whole heart, “He is a nice guy who wouldn’t dream of cheating on anyone.”

There was a small pause as your thoughts wandered to what-ifs, you trusted Namjoon but could you trust her. “Look if you trust him that’s great but I know a thing or two about the Kim family and when they find something they want, nothing can stop them or stand in their way until they get it. So he might want you now but what if these days leading up to the wedding he changes his mind?”

“Why are you doing this to me? Why am I letting you get inside my head?”

“I assure you I am not trying to make you doubt your future husband, I am trying to help you secure him,” Seokjin said, pulling out a rather fancy dress, it was a little more revealing than what you had been wearing around Namjoon’s mother, you were unsure why you had packed the dress in the first place. “Now put on this outfit and go to him, you need to impress him. Be like a beer, pitcher perfect” 

“Haha.” Your laugh was dry, but you had to hand it to him, he had a quick wit and you liked that a lot, “I don’t need to impress him, I am his fiance and we are getting married.”

“Listen I will distract her and if the situation calls for it, sabotage her plans of stealing your fiance, the last thing I need right now is to be cursed back into a box thank you very much.” He threw the dress at your face pushing you into the bathroom. You turned to give him an offended look and he leaned down so his face was level with yours a condescending smile. “For butter or worse, I want to toast the lovely bride and groom, I need you both happy then you can all leave me alone. ”

~

Seokjin’s plans weren’t working. The dress made Namjoon send you back to the country club to get changed as he thought it was a little too indecent for golf. To make matters worse, when Seokjin tried to interfere and push Bom into the lake, Namjoon jumped in after her. As if things couldn’t get worse, Namjoon gave her his jacket and escorted her back while you dragged your feet back to your room. 

It was at this point you fell into Seokjin’s ideas, the two of you trying to conjure up situations where you looked superior to Bom and stole the spotlight. Seokjin critiqued your outfits and told you how to act charming and attract Namjoon’s attention. 

“So should I wear my hair up or down?” You asked him, curiously whilst standing in front of the mirror, tonight was the night before the big day and you were feeling downhearted. Namjoon was spending the majority of his time joking and talking with Bom and all your attempts only made them grow closer.

“You look beautiful either way, when your hair is up it shows off your slim jaw and long neck but down makes you look more feminine and beautiful.” Seokjin’s voice traveled through the bathroom door, but you could hear the truth in the words he spoke. There was no hesitation, he replied as if you had asked him about the weather.

“Oh,” Your cheeks looked so red, in the mirror, you had never seen yourself flushed before. It was kind of a romantic look, you hoped tomorrow you could look just as beautiful walking down the aisle. “No one has ever really said that to me before.”

“What about the Kim?”

“Namjoon doesn’t really talk about looks, which I appreciate he says he prefers personality over appearances,” You opened the door and stepped out, he stood up from the couch slowly, his jaw slack.

“You are very pretty,” For some reason, the confidence in his voice died away and he sounded so shaken and breathless. He offered his hand, which you gratefully took, “We should get you done to the party, you are getting married in the morning.”

“Why are you more excited than I am?”

“I love weddings, I find them so... Engaging” He looked at you with a serious expression pausing for effect and you slapped his arm with a grown

“I hate you and your puns.” struggling to control your features, you couldn’t admit he was funny.

~

The party was just beginning and the music was soft, Seokjin politely pulled you onto the dance floor and began leading you around. “I will try to distract Bom tonight, focus on having fun, okay?”

“Okay,” You smiled, gripping his broad shoulder, you tried to let all your worries disappear and it helped that Seokjin spun you around until you were dizzy and then demanded that you spin him too. In fits of giggles, you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Do you mind if I cut in?” Namjoon asked eyeing Seokjin.

“Of course, she is all yours”

Namjoon took your waist and began leading you albeit clumsily through a slow dance, “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”

“It has been hard to see you when you were hanging out with your friend but I understand, you haven’t seen each other in a long time and we have been together for a really long time.” You admitted trying to settle the uncertainties in your mind.

“Yeah, I feel like we just get each other and sometimes we lose track of the time.” He whispered.

You both heard Bom and Seokjin laughing together, they looked happy but you felt sick, Namjoon didn’t ease your insecurities and the one person you had been confiding in was also laughing with the other girl.

“I know he said he was a Kim but I have no idea who that guy is?”

“Your mum invited him, she said he is a distant relative,” deciding not to say his name in hopes Namjoon guessed he was the Seokjin from the legend.

“Ah must be very distant.”

You two were talking and you felt some form of reassurance that Namjoon still loved you and wanted to marry you. It was silly how worried you had gotten because his best friend had crashed the wedding.

Crash!

Turning you saw Seokjin looking horrified as Bom was in anaphylactic shock, racing over you watched as your fiance saved her and you dragged Seokjin away. “What was that, that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I didn’t mean to, we were talking and I offered her what I thought was a chicken sandwich. It was incorrectly labeled and I didn’t know it was crab until she hit the floor.”

“She was supposed to be removed from the wedding, I didn’t want her to be killed”

“Look, either way, this works out, maybe this is a better plan. She will be in the hospital while you are getting married. This plan is better.”

“Plan?” A voice said behind Seokjin and he stepped aside revealing a confused and hurt Namjoon. 

“I didn’t ask or want or plan for something like this to happen, I just wanted to spend some time with you before the wedding cause I hadn’t seen you all week.” You attempted some form of explanation when Namjoon raised his hand effectively silencing you.

“I wanted the same thing and I am disappointed you resorted to these jealous and petty tricks that almost cost someone their life. I am going to the hospital, and I will see you tomorrow at the altar.” Namjoon turned, briskly walking away, chasing him with tears rolling down your cheeks. You begged him not to go. “I am disappointed that you were doubting me this whole time, it’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

~

The rest of the night you spent getting drunk in your hotel room passing out after crying yourself to sleep, you woke the next day with a headache. The hairstylist and the makeup artists were polite and didn’t mention the puffiness of your eyes and did their absolute best to make you look like a picture-perfect bride.

You looked in the mirror feeling alone, you hadn’t seen Namjoon or Seokjin since last night and you were unsure if you could face Namjoon but you were longing for Seokjin. He knew exactly what to say to cheer you up. He knew exactly how to make your problems disappear. If he was here you knew you could get through this day.

There was a knock and Seokjin smiled at the door, “You look truly beautiful, a blushing bride indeed, can I escort you down to the hall?”

“Of course,” You breathed, taking his hand. He led you downstairs and to the doors of the hall. You stopped and hugged him, his broad shoulders keeping you grounded and you took a few deep breaths.

“Hey no matter what happens, I am here okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He smiled softly. You thought for a moment he was going to kiss you and at that moment you wished he would, it was like something had taken over you. 

“I am so nervous, I think I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, you better go now, or forever hold your pees." The softest laugh seemed to shake as he stepped back letting his hands fall to his sides.

The music started playing and Seokjin walked away out of sight and the doors opened. Clutching the bouquet tightly you began walking down the aisle, your eyes met Namjoon’s and he gave you a smile that told you everything was forgiven. 

Needless to say, the tears started flowing, you were supposed to be happy but instead it felt like you were being married off to a stranger, someone who loved who you pretended to be not who you were. Namjoon liked the you that took care of him diligently and bought him his favorite things and was that really you.

You reached the altar and turned to face him and as he took your hands you noticed Jin slip into the back row of the hall.

~

“I knew you were the one when you took care of me, in other relationships I was expected to buy gifts, to provide, and yet with you I was the one being cared for and provided for. You cleaned up my messes when I was clumsy and you always made my favorite foods, you're so independent and wonderful and I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

“That’s, That’s not me,” you interrupted me, “I liked winning you a prize at the arcade but then you sang my praises and I became the one buying you gifts, which made me happy because you were happy but you didn’t return that love, you know you have never called me beautiful.”

“You push for me to be independent which I love but would it kill you to show me affection. I know we are all about equality and letting me get the bill but how is that equal if you have never offered to cook clean or pay for dinner. I haven’t been your partner in any of this, definitely not your girlfriend. I have been your mother.” 

“Speaking of your mother, your mother gave me an ornate box which you explained held the Seokjin Curse so thanks for trying to have me stolen away before the wedding. She invited your best friend from school because she wants Bom to be your wife, someone who knows the culture and background”

“And honestly it hurt this whole week trying to get your attention and you always turned to her, what happened last night was unfortunate and I am glad Bom has recovered so quickly, my friend told me the chicken and the crab sandwiches had been mislabeled. But the most important part is I saw you Namjoon. You were so loving this week, but not with me, with Bom.”

Taking off your viel you put it on Bom and lead her up to the altar and join their hands. “I am sorry, I am sorry that you never got to see the real me, I am sorry I played along with the image of me you created in your mind. I want to be friends but I cannot marry you Namjoon.”

He was crying, “I think you are right,” He hugged you kissing your cheek, “I loved you a lot and I am sorry I never told you how beautiful you were, I wish I could have allowed you to be yourself.”

“I have to go.” You whispered before walking out of the hall awkwardly with your head down. Namjoon escorted you out and everyone followed you to the dining room where the DJ and Namjoon’s close friend got on the mic.

“Let’s not waste a party.” You gave him a thumbs up and headed upstairs and changed quickly into the dress Seokjin had picked out for you earlier that week. It was a little revealing but you didn’t care, it’s not like you had anyone to impress anymore.

It was three drinks in and sixteen songs that the cake was brought out, the cake topper removed and you grinned as the song ‘Not Today’ filled the room. You were dancing wildly and Namjoon and Bom were having a blast.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean for you to feel like I stole Namjoon, I was honestly really excited for you too,” she admitted and you grinned.

“He has known you since you two were little and I realized when I met you that his ideal type was you and he was projecting that image onto me, it’s better off this way.” A hand wrapped around your wrist and spun you until you landed against a strong broad chest.

“I liked the whole wedding, but it was the reception that really took the cake.” Seokjin grinned leaving you in hysterics.

[kajaono]

If I have another man mansplaining me why I shouldn’t buy DVDs, I will commit murder 🙄

Watch it in 4K, blu ray, stream, DVDs have such a bad quality, they are so expensive.

🖕

[abbystanaccount]

I'm kind of sex repulsed so the boat scene makes me uncomfortable but I think that since you keep talking about it, that is helping me to feel more comfortable

So thanks I guess?? I am trying to fix this since I am not asexual, just anxious 😞

omg lol, I have a way with continually talking about things and eventually getting people to like them. Like I've somehow gotten multiple people to like Owen that way.

But yeah the scene is definitely set up in a way that is supposed to feel claustrophobic, animalistic, desperate, so one's initial reaction to it probably isn't "😍🤭 aww". It's also a direct contrast to Dina and Ellie's scene which was all cute and flirty, because the character's mindsets were all in such different places in the time of the scenes. Like Abby just went through hell trying to make sure this person she cared about was okay, and Owen completely checked out after he has an epiphany and then nearly gets killed. They're also both angry at each other, it wasn't really the time and place for a sweet love making scene.

But also..... I think just watching it over again (especially in ps5 4k quality with 60fps lol), you can really learn to appreciate it more. I love Owen's speech lol and can basically quote the entire cutscene. There's also so much hidden backstory and things unsaid, you can really see how much these two really know about each other. Like I kinda love that Owen just has this massive scar and brings up his own murdered family, like us the viewer is left to wonder but you can tell Abby knows all about that.

Then lastly the actual sexual part of the scene, I just think the kissing and taking off their shirts part is 👌 like c'mon, it's hot. A lot of people of course were shocked when they went right to the thrusting part but c'mon they weren't gonna have five minutes of foreplay, it was a 'coochie now' situation 😩

[ragnarachael]

Joyride

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k  

Summary: You're heading back to your apartment after a game night at a friend's place when you encounter Loki for the first time since his invasion in 2012.

Author’s Ramblings: hi!! this is my entry for @gingerwritess​ writing challenge! congrats on 4k!!! 💖 (i hope it’s okay i’m only like 100 and some odd words past 2k,, apparently i couldn’t make it less than that for the life of me)

Warnings: talks of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus! (it’s nothing too graphic, if i’m being honest. and yes, blame National Theatre Live for this), reader is kinda hesitant in the beginning about Loki bc of the whole “take over NYC” thing. that’s really all i can think of for warnings!

LOKI TAGLIST: @sadwaywardkid​

MASTERLIST !    FEEDBACK !   AO3 LINK !

You saw him on the A Train. You noticed his lithe form when you took a minute to glance up from your book.

Him as in the one who took New York in his clutches momentarily back in 2012 while you were in the middle of a shift at the coffee shop you used to work at that was just near the main spot of action. Loki. 

It was only the two of you on this train at this time of night. You were heading back home to your apartment where your dog would most likely be sleeping on her assigned side of the bed, passed out after trying to wait up for you. Your friends hosted a game night and insisted you had come. 

And you kicked ass in Scrabble, Life—Spongebob Edition, you remembered picking Squidward as your token to play the game—and even Cluedo.

And you never won Cluedo. 

You were proud of yourself. Three wins on one game night is better than nothing. Usually, you’re a sore loser every time you’re invited over. 

It seemed like everything was going your way tonight. 

Until you caught Loki studying the cover of your book as you read. 

After you finished your last book on the train on the way to work, you decided to shove your worn copy of Coriolanus in place and never bothered to take it out. So naturally, that was your reading material of choice tonight as you waited for the final stop. 

“May I help you?” You questioned, glancing up at the God that sat across from you. When he didn’t reply, you tried to direct your attention back to the book pages, rereading the huge section you had just skipped over 

You heard him shift, which made you look up at him again. However this time, you maintained eye contact. 

What do you say when a murderer is looking at your book late at night on your train back home? You didn’t want to end up dead by the end of this interaction. You had a life to carry on with. Manuscripts to finish, your dog to take care of, your parents to mildly ignore when they tell you how you should be living. 

Not dead on the A Train after being slain by Loki, the God of Mischief. 

He seemed like he was in a trance when he apologized quietly.

That was... odd. 

“I.. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice the author’s name on the cover of your book,” he spoke up, finally leaning back on the seat as the train started to go in the direction of the third to last stop for the night. “Shakespeare, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes,” you said hesitantly, fighting the urge to look at the cover yourself to make sure that it was Shakespeare, even though you knew exactly what it was. “Another tragedy.”

“May I ask which? The title seems to be scratched off.”

You could feel your face heating up at his words. He noticed that? Now that you thought about it, it made sense that he was staring so long for the title.

“It’s uh, Coriolanus. Roman soldiers and stuff. Right up your alley if you think about it,” you said, your eyes darting back to the pages you were permanently stuck on. You didn’t want to see his reaction when he figured out you knew him. 

Loki seemed stunned at your reply for assuming such. It’s not like you had been wrong. You did some research on Asgard a while after 2012 and learned a thing or two about their politics. 

Quite Roman-esque in your unprofessional opinion. 

He seemed to mull it over for a moment before letting a chuckle out. “It appears you may be right, darling.”

Darling. 

That made chills run up your spine. Not... not in a bad way, though. You wouldn’t mind him calling you that again, as a matter of fact.

The conversation was cut by the screeching breaks of the train. You both braced yourselves in your seats so you didn’t slide with gravity as the train finally got to a stop, reaching the third to last station. 

The doors opened for no one, and waited. 

There was some sort of silence you couldn’t decipher as the doors waited for no one to arrive. You turned the page to your book, pretending to be reading. Your mind was still replaying the words Loki said. 

Mainly darling, but that's besides the point. 

Eventually, the doors closed and the train was back to moving. Loki was back to looking at your book cover, and you actually got pulled back into the script.

Until you were interrupted again. 

“Why is your copy in such poor quality?”

Loki’s voice was like velvet as he started to take interest in you again. 

“I’ve had it for a long, long time.”

That answer seemed enough for him. You started to reread a line of Volumnia’s when he continued speaking. 

“Could you tell me more about it?”

You wanted to hold yourself back, you really did. Maybe he had some kind of motive to do something bad? You don’t know if he’s turned good. He could still be the same man he was in 2012.  Regardless of your thoughts running wild, you awkwardly scooted a bit subconsciously to make more room for Loki to sit next to you. That’s when you knew it was game over. 

You told him about the plot in deep, deep detail. You spoke about each character as if you had written this play yourself. It was, after all, one of your favorites that you’ve been reading since your senior year of high school. 

Loki sat and listened intently, drinking in your unabashed excitement as you recounted everything that happens in this play; it was as if you had actually been in Rome when the play was set. 

He found it endearing. Most mortals were not passionate like you were about literature—or anything period. But, on the other hand, Loki hadn’t talked to many mortals since his deal with the Avengers granted him his freedom. 

Another thing he found interesting, he could listen to you talk about Shakespeare for hours. 

Loki had only read some of the cliché plays that were written. Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Twelfth Night. They all grasped his attention and he read them thoroughly when he had the time. But there seemed that in this moment, there was nothing quite like Shakespeare’s Coriolanus.

The train ride was less excruciating once you were talking. You found that Loki was actually well educated and not as much of an asshole as he seemed. Loki found you even more attractive than he had when he stepped into the train car. 

You were in the middle of passionately explaining Volumnia’s relationship with her son when the train came to a stop again, announcing the last stop. 

Neither you or Loki wanted this to end. 

“I—I’d love to keep going,” you started, suddenly realizing you spent so much time speaking, “but this is my stop.”

The usual dialogue came from the speakers as the doors wheezed open. Loki stood up from his seat with you as you gathered your things, your book in hand. 

“I fear this may be too forward,” he started, suddenly feeling nervous. “But may I walk you home?”

Never in your years of living did you expect to be asked by the man who took New York in his clutches to be walked home in the dead of night.

And never did you think you’d say yes. 

The two of you fell in step as you walked out of the subway car, silent as you took in the emptiness of the subway station. 

It was peaceful. A small part of the city that somewhat slept. You realized that you were less tense than when you started this journey, and smiled small as both you and Loki took the steps two at a time to reach the surface. 

Both of you made it onto the sidewalk before you realized something.

“You know,” you started carefully once your bag was secured on your back, “you don’t need to walk me back. I’m sure you have a curfew or... or something—“

“Darling, I assure you, I’m not needed back at the tower.” Loki gripped your hand gently to pull you to a full stop on the sidewalk now. “I’d much rather hear your passion for this work than hear my brother drone on about his lover.”

For some reason, that confession combined with his touch made your breath hitch. His hand felt as if it wasn’t warm, but not cold either. It was like the perfect temperature. 

Suddenly your mind wondered what it would feel like to be held in his arms. You were quick to wipe away that thought by blinking up at Loki, furrowing your brows together. 

“Are you sure? Sounds much more invigorating, hearing about someone’s dating life rather than being told about a Roman soldier in depth.”

“I am positive,” Loki chuckled in reply. “Your knowledge on this play is far better than any mortal’s. Almost as if you had studied with the Bard himself.”

You felt your face heat up from the compliment, and decided to keep your hand locked in his as you started to walk down the sidewalk again. 

“Flattering gets you nowhere, Loki.”

“I’m merely speaking the truth!” His voice sounded like he was accused of something like a child. This made you laugh. You just shook your head to dismiss the subject 

“So, back to Volumnia and how she’d rather her son die in battle than live a life of shame?”

“Please. I’m all ears.”

The walk back to your apartment was quicker than you expected as you broke down the rest of the play. And for once, you didn’t want to sleep. You wanted to stay up and keep talking to Loki. You didn’t care about the time or the place, you wanted to keep talking. 

Even if you’ve exhausted your extensive knowledge on this play. 

You and Loki stood in front of your apartment building, laughing at a small joke you had made about Caius Marcius yearning to fight Aufidius during an important meeting. 

The blanket of silence between you two was comfortable. You noticed Loki’s gaze seemed soft. Almost... loving. You tried to ignore it, but he seemed so smitten in this moment. The moonlight hit his face just right which made you swoon internally when you saw just how handsome he could be in the different lighting of the night.

“I really should get going,” you sighed, letting the heel of your hand gently rub at your eye. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Loki shifted his weight on his feet, seeming just as dejected as you. It was nice knowing you both didn’t want this night to end. 

“I’d like to see you again, if that—“

“Yes,” you cut him off instantly, looking up into his eyes. It was like a trance. You admittedly loved every second of it. 

He chuckled at your sudden response. Minutes, maybe even hours ago, you two had wanted nothing to do with each other.

And yet here you both stood, smitten in conversation, dancing around the harsh reality that you’d have to carry on with your lives after you stopped talking. 

You licked your dry lips slowly, a smile settling across your features before repeating yourself again. “Yes please.”

Loki smiled back at you before nodding. Neither of you knew what to do from here. It seemed as though goodbyes weren’t your forte. 

You fumbled for a moment, almost as if you were getting your keys from your bag.

Which you were doing, Loki realized. Getting your keys. And a pen, it seemed. You were quick to bite the plastic cap off before opening to the first page in your copy of Coriolanus and writing. 

Loki tried to see what you had written, but you were far too fast. By the time he tried to get a closer look, you were done writing and capped the pen before closing the book and passing it over to him.

“A reason to see me again.” 

You sounded breathless, as if you had just ran into him on the street and dropped everything onto the ground. Loki felt his heart speed up momentarily before taking the book carefully. 

“I already had a reason, darling.” Loki’s smile knocked the breath right out of you before he stepped a little closer to get in your personal space, reaching for one of your hands. You weren’t sure as to what he was doing until his long, gentle fingers were grabbing your own and lifted it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

You were blushing. You were certain of it. 

You said your final goodnights for the night, Loki patiently waiting until you were in the lobby of the building to actually take his leave with your book.

[alexturntable]

Singapore GP | carlossainz.es

[runawaymarbles]

Good omens fic rec

A Letter from “Crawly” to Azirapil by mostlydeadlanguages | 500 Words | G

This remarkable letter of unknown provenance surfaced recently in the cuneiform collection of the University of West Wessex. Addressed to Azirapil from a Mr. “Crawly,” it appears to be begging for the other’s return to Ur from a western journey with another individual, Abiraham. The relationship between the two (brothers? business partners? friends?) is unknown.

404 Email Not Found by Dacelin | 700 words | G

The first the Metatron knew about Armageddon was when Aziraphale contacted him to beg for it to be called off. Being a professional, the Metatron murmured soothing things about it all being part of the plan and rerouted the call elsewhere instead of admitting he had no idea what the principality was talking about.

my black eye casts no shadow by gyzym | 1.5k | Not Rated, probably M 

If you cut humanity to the quick, split it open, found its soul, it would have dark red hair and bright wild eyes.

So You Need To Get Into A.Z. Fell & Co.; Now What? (A Guide For Unfortunate Bookworms) by arkhamcycle | 1.8k | G

London’s antique enthusiasts and rare lit nerds alike know that if you’re looking for a specific vintage or antique book, you have a good chance of ending up in A.Z. Fell & Co. as a last resort. And if you’ve ever been in (or are currently in) this predicament, you know how much of an absolute nightmare it is trying to even get in the door. Luckily, this handy guide, the fruit of a months-long collaborative effort to create the perfect formula for gaming the A.Z. Fell system, will tell you everything you need to know, complete with a comprehensive breakdown of what, exactly, the opening hours are. Compiled by pageknight and inky of the Rare Antique Forums.

Quiet Light by drawlight | 2k | T |

There are rules. The trouble with hearts is that they play by none of them.

between the shadow and the soul by absopositivelutely | 2k | NR

(alternatively: it takes 6000 years for crowley to realize that aziraphale could love him too.)

i just happen to like apples (i am not afraid of snakes) by gyzym | 2k | Not Rated

Written for the following prompt: "Someone write me Crowley the bitter lesbian who only gave Eve the apple because she thought feminism should be there from day one." As such, please be warned that this story contains some fairly radical reinterpretations of Biblical stories and themes; if that sort of thing is not for you, please give this tale a pass.

Secret Agent Man by Emamel | 2.3k | G | 

Edward was very good at two things: noticing things, and not being noticed in return. It was the sort of qualities that made you a good spy. These two never got the memo.

Ten Fathoms Deep On the Road to Hell by BuggreAlleThis | 2.5k | G

Aziraphale is given an assignment as a Captain in the Royal Navy and finds life at sea miserable. Crowley, on the other hand, is having plenty of fun as the Captain of a motley pirate crew.

Untitled Goose Fic by rattatatosk | 3k | T

It's a lovely week in the South Downs, and Crowley is at war with a Horrible Goose.

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by TheOldAquarian | 3k | G 

What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals. The resulting Airbnb property has been variously described as "an instagram trap," "a vampire den but make it botanical," and "the weirdest bed and breakfast in the shared history of beds and breakfasting."

Salinity (And Other Measurements of Brackish Water) by drawlight | 3k | T | 

It's an odd thing, getting on after the End of the World. Crowley takes to sea-watching.

Stopgap by RC_McLachlan | 3k | T | 

"Can you imagine ruining something so frustratingly perfect just to get a leg up with Management?" Crowley then remembers who he's talking to and why he's here in the first place. "Sorry, bad example, of course you can." A missing scene from Episode 6.

Wednesdays Are for This by magpiespirit | 3k | T

"D'you think we should have sex," he asks idly, pressing post on his addition to the exclusive How to Summon and Bind Demons forum. This one, he's sure, will both give Hell several annoying headaches and make a dent in the problem of demonology rising in the incel community. Bless, he loves having free time. "I think," Aziraphale replies frankly, giving Crowley a really, now look over the rims of his stupid glasses and the top of a first edition of something that probably uses a hundred words to say what could be said in five, "that should is a word best left to Heaven and Hell." And Crowley, who was only looking to fluster the angel a little, belatedly remembers that he's gotten commendations for Aziraphale's temptations.

build me a city, call it jerusalem by gyzym | 3.5k | T | 

Man begets man begets The Tales of Men, and there's nothing godly in that; Those Above and Them Below haven't any need for the stories humans have been hungry for since the snake and the Angel with the flaming sword.

The Plantom Menace by theinkwell33 | 3.6k | G 

There is an urban legend well known in this area regarding The Plant Man. Footage exists, blurry and ill-lit, of the trespassing fiend, but it never provides a good look at his face. He exists only as a rumor; a giggled whisper in someone’s ear at the pub, an inside joke at uni, and a viral sensation. None of these things mean he is not real. That being said, the only person who can corroborate the truth about the Plant Man is the man himself. And unfortunately, Anthony J. Crowley has no idea that it’s him.

get religion quick (cause you're looking divine) by brinnanza | 4k | G |

So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing. It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.

to carthage then i came by Lvslie | 4k | T | 

‘You’re difficult to follow sometimes.’ ‘Difficult?’ Crowley echoes, feeling hollow. ‘Am I too fast? Am I going—’ And just like that, there’s something new in the silence between them, a tightening. The glass almost slips from his grasp, sliding from between languid fingers. His vision clouds. —too fast for you?’

Snakes and Stones (Never Broke My Bones) by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee | 4.5k | G

No one wants to say it, but the residents of Dorm A, floor 3, are collectively convinced Aziraphale Fell’s boyfriend does not exist. This is their story.

as the poets say by nikkiRA | 4.6k | T

Crowley takes a long drink of his wine and then says, before he can chicken out, “Aziraphale, I have always been sure about you.”

Re-Recalled by Jennistar | 5k | T |

Halfway through an argument, Aziraphale gets accidentally discorporated and doesn't come back. Crowley does the sensible thing and panics.

the bookshop nemesis witch by FlipSpring | 5k | G

The life and times of Nicole Percival Castings, Witch. Featuring: her ongoing love/rivalry with a particular magical bookstore, an Eccentric(TM) shopkeeper who keeps a huge snake in aforementioned bookstore, finding oneself and one's magical power, the cyclicality of life.

your smile speaks books to me by laiqualaurelote | 5k | T 

Aziraphale's bookshop becomes accidentally famous on Instagram, to his great distress. Since Crowley invented Instagram, it's also his problem.

it's a new craze by attheborder | 5.5k | G | 

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we?CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all.  AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

your apple-eating heathen by katarzi | G | 5.7k

History is written without them, and Crowley’s no lady.

the blues have run the game by indigostohelit | 6k | NC-17 (more of an M)

Halfway between the Beginning and the Apocalypse, Crowley visits the court of King Saul, and runs into a prince, a war camp, and a songbook. 

the earth has never felt this old by brawlite | 6k | T

Crowley has a long history with holy places.

TwoFish by Grindylowe | 6k | T | 

A love story about angels and demons. Also, fish

A Nice and Accurate Lesbian Herstory Archive by badwig | T | 6.6k

More or less just the opening montage from 'Hard Times' but they're lesbians - a series of vignettes from the Garden to now.

parable of shepherds by Lvslie | 6k | T |

‘Aziraphale, you need to stop telling that goddamned story to everyone we stumble upon,’ she hisses. ‘I’m serious. You keep it up much longer, everyone’s gonna think we’ve gone and murdered that alleged husband of mine. ‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale says blithely, a serene smile plastered to her face as a familiar-looking man passes by, ‘Dear. That’s what I want them to think.’

Nothing Like The Sun by mirawonderfulstar | 6k | T |

One tended to go through a number bodies in six thousand years, even if one was as cautious or sturdy as Aziraphale. Crowley, who was neither cautious nor sturdy, had gone through a large number. He’d changed appearance so many times that in Aziraphale’s memory he was often just his eyes, for no matter if Crowley was tall or short, lithe or stocky, blond or raven-haired, his eyes stayed the same. 

Blessed/Cursed Retirement by DictionaryWrites | 7k | T

Liam Buttersby, a very normal, nine-year-old boy, makes a friend in the retiree who has recently moved to his village in the South Downs. The retiree in question claims to hate it, and is a liar.

the technology is neutral by Deputychairman | 7k | NC-17 | 

“Stand up?” he echoed, incredulous but too undone by sensation to express the full force of his disbelief. “I can barely even remember my own name after that, and you want me to stand up?” “Your name is Anthony J Crowley, apparently, although you never did tell me what the J stood for so I can’t help you there,” he said, not hiding his smile. “Do stand up, I promise you’ll like it.”

Part of the Plan by HardlyFair | 7k | T |

In which things do not return to the exact way they were Before.

Where Thou Art by Mottlemoth | 7.5k | M | 

A late-night bus to London, a few human comforts, and a long overdue confession... nothing will ever be the same for an angel and his demon.

The Ark by rfsmiley | 7k | T 

We’ve all been assuming that it takes them 6,000 years to figure it out, but what if it takes 6,300?

Or: the ineffable husbands evacuate a dying Earth.

Ad Astra by drawlight | 8K | NC-17

Some things can only be said in the dark.

except you enthrall me, never shall be free by curtaincall | 8k | T

It's a classic story: Angel meets knight. Angel volunteers to get beheaded by knight. Knight turns out to be angel's demon frenemy. Somehow, there is kissing. Based on the Middle English ballad Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Falling Rain by Aria | 8k | T |

Once upon a time, an angel and a demon hitched a ride on the Ark.

such surpassing brightness by Handful_of_Silence | 8k | G | 

The revelation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.

Without Creativity by htebazytook | 8k | NC-17 |

Another Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages fic, with some heavy symbolism thrown in for good measure.

Exit Wounds by racketghost | 8k | T

“At least they were together for a time,” Crowley says, staring at the lit end of his cigarette, “maybe that’s enough.”

On The Matter Of Touch by Somedrunkpirate | 9k | T

“On the matter of touch,” Crowley begins, waving his teaspoon in what he hopes passes for idle curiosity. “Thoughts?”

and, so on by PaintedVanilla | 9k | M | 

Crowley doesn’t remember heaven, but Aziraphale remembers him.

Going Home by Daegaer | 9k | G | 

Aziraphale is recalled to Heaven, Crowley isn't impressed.

The future's going to break through by nieded | 10k | T

My take on South Downs: Aziraphale and Crowley decide to become professors. This is inspired by the headcanon that Crowley has 20 different degrees. He is the Serpent of the Tree of Knowledge after all.

Wings and How to Hide Them by triedunture | M | 10k 

Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?

The Gospel of Crowley by gutterandthestars | 10k | T

Crowley tempts Jesus in the wilderness! Turns out Jesus gives as good as he gets. Also Crowley pines over Aziraphale and has Big Gay Angsty Feelings because, well. Because Crowley.

A Nanny? In MY Summoning Circle? by pukner | 10k | Not Rated

(it's more likely than you think) Warlock "Lockie" Dowling summons a demon. Or, he buys a book off a suspiciously familiar bookseller and is convinced into demon summoning. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

damn.nation, now available on itunes by antistar_e (kaikamahine) | 10k | T

When lowly tempt-pusher Amphora (formerly of Stairwell 7B North, before she Fell,) gets the notice that end times are nigh, she gleefully quits her job and cancels her Netflix subscription and takes her place among the legions of hell. This, it turns out, was a bad plan.

Lie Back And Think Of Dinner by jessthereckless | 11k | M |

"Crowley, this is a disaster. This is everything I ever wanted. We’re in love. And there’s a picnic. And we don’t seem to be able to get…amorous without causing earthquakes.” Aziraphale attempts subterfuge. Crowley sees right through him.

Something to do with these sacred words by Solshine | 11k | T

Crowley confesses early, and Crowley confesses often. Aziraphale never knows quite what to say.

A Resurrection of Whales, and Other Omens of Varying Goodness by Margo_Kim | 11k | WIP | T

After the end of the world doesn't end anything, Heaven and Hell send replacements to Earth while the old representatives try to figure out their new normal.

Serpentine by sergeant_smudge | 11k | G |

Five ways in which Crowley is a snake. *And one more thing.

what's to come by PepperPrints, restlesslikeme | 11k | T 

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Even without the Antichrist, both Heaven and Hell insist on Armageddon. Aziraphale is missing and Crowley sets out to find him, driving through a scorched Earth with a witch in his passenger seat.

Basking by bomberqueen17 | 15k | NC-17

Crowley is extremely confused about how or whether celestial beings can experience physical sexual desire. He's also not fantastic at using his words. Things go all... snake-shaped.

Nanny Knows Best by DictionaryWrites | 17k | M

Being a nanny, that should be simple. Simple. Easy as pie. Crowley wished that were true.

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan | 17k | NC-17

"All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?” Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval. "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening."

Soft (A Love Story in Three Bites) by mia_ugly | 18.3k | NC-17

Crowley was an angel, once. Before she fell. Aziraphale was a warrior (she fell too. It just took a little longer.)

The Persephone Clause by Zetared | 20k | T |

When Crowley is forcibly recalled to home office, Aziraphale conspires with a denounced saint and strikes a deal with the agents of Hell to get him back.

in search of the wind by drawlight | 27k | NC-17

After the World Doesn't End, Aziraphale is not returned to his body. Crowley tries to find a way to get to Heaven's fast-shut gates. Aziraphale tries to find his way back from the sky (and back in time).

And So We Come Full Circle by Hekateras | 30k | T | 

"Angel. You know it's gonna be really bad, this time around," Crowley says slowly. "When the times comes, I want you to-"

Mirror, Mirror by ImprobableDreams900 | 44k | T

Adam, Eve, and Crawly flee Eden through the Western Gate, and it turns out that that simple decision makes all the difference in the world...

Slow Show by mia_ugly | 90k | NC-17

In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.)

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm | 100k | T

What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

Eden!verse by ImprobableDreams900 | 550k | T-M

When Crowley gets captured by angels and dragged up to Heaven, Aziraphale knows he has to rescue him—no matter the consequences.

[benoitblanc]

heyyy i've been getting into giffin lately and i wanted to ask where do you usually find the clips? really love your blog!!!

hi there! oh my goodness- thank you so much!!! so glad to hear you like my blog, and please feel free to tag me in your gifsets once you’ve finished them- i track #userars and i’d love to see them!  

as you’ve probably noticed, i’ve mostly been giffing agent carter recently, and i get almost all the clips i use from here: https://abc.com/shows/marvels-agent-carter. this is the official abc website, and if you’re interested in giffing almost any abc show (eg agents of shield, how to get away with murder, grey’s anatomy), there’ll be a ton of high-quality, logoless clips on this site. similarly, if you wanted to gif an nbc show like the good place or b99, you can find clips on the official nbc website: https://www.nbc.com/the-good-place, for example. this is most likely true for almost any major tv network.

if you have any streaming services, you can often just record clips from the actual content there. (i only have prime, so i’m only able to do this for good omens because that’s the only thing still on prime that i actually like. i’m still salty they moved doctor who to hbo max.) for anything else, i turn to youtube. better quality videos means better quality gifs, so if you’re going to youtube, try to see if you can find videos that are (at least?) 1080p. (is there something higher than 1080p?)

i screen record all the videos i use to make gifs, which you can do on a macbook by going to applications, opening quicktime player, and in the file dropdown menu at the top of the screen, clicking “new screen recording.” however, my friend jamie @wespers​ is a big advocate for something called 4k video downloader, which lets you directly download the videos- if that interests you, i’m sure she’d be more than happy to talk about it with you. 

i hope this helps, and please let me know if you have any more questions!!! hope you have a wonderful day!

[jhezenkoss]

HELLO would you happen to have some good omens fic recs please? :D

fair warning that i am terrible at reading fic and so haven’t actually gotten through much, and also immediately forget the titles that i have read. (what usually happens when i get in a good omens mood is i reread the sacred and the profane, which i don’t even particularly like and yet have read at least 4 times, go “fuck,” and then stop reading anything at all for a while.)

THAT SAID, here are a few i’ve read recently that i loved:

Any Way You Want It by LieutenantLiv @justkeeptrekkin (27k, rated M): they go on vacation to scotland! there’s only one bed! whatever shall they do! so much pining and so very tender

You, Soft and Only by thehoyden @thehoyden (9k, rated E): fake married, for a given value of fake. absolutely delicious amounts of yearning with the perfect spot of angst. i did in fact have actual tears in my eyes by the end

Anthophilia by FortinbrasFTW (49k, rated E): human au, which i am not usually the biggest fan of, BUT. this was really good. i read the whole thing in two sittings and it only took two because i fell asleep halfway though after staying up too late reading. crowley has a flower shop and Oh No the guy he had a thing for in college just opened a bookshop across the street

the yet unknowing world by Ark  @et-in-arkadia (8k, rated E): it’s the elizabethan era and there’s fucking happening and then suddenly so many feelings. i’ll be honest, i wasn’t sure about this fic in the first half, but oh boy did the second half get me good

Of Celestial Sonnets and Pitiable Poets by triedunture (6k, rated T): regency fic! crowley writes anonymous love poetry of dubious quality. aziraphale gets his hands on it, naturally. shenanigans ensue. very cute and funny

Liminal by fynnkaterin @fynnkaterin (4k, rated T): a very lovely post-apocalypse-that-isn’t fic, the two of them hanging out at crowley’s place and figuring stuff out

also @forineffablereasons‘s entire fic tag because they murder me on the regular (also their ao3)

[awesomelephuoclocblog-blog]

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[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: A Bucket of Blood

Dick Miller was such a constant presence in cinema that his death earlier this year was almost like losing an old friend. His familiar face would often only pop up for a scene or two, but he would almost always steal them. Thankfully, he had a long life and left behind plenty of movies through which he lives on. Over the course of his six-decade career, Miller amassed over 150 acting credits, including Gremlins, The Terminator, Twilight Zone: The Movie, The Dirty Dozen, The 'Burbs, 1941, and Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight.

1959's A Bucket of Blood is significant for several reasons, perhaps the most notable one being that it's a rare leading role for the character actor. Miller stars as Walter Paisley, a name that would follow him throughout his career, as later filmmakers would adopt it for Miller’s cameo appearances. A Bucket of Blood is also one of Roger Corman's best directorial efforts. It may not have the cache of his Edgar Allan Poe adaptations with Vincent Price or the cult status of The Little Shop of Horrors, but it's one of his most entertaining works.

In typical Corman fashion, A Bucket of Blood was conceived as a way to repurpose leftover sets from 1959's Diary of a High School Bride. He hired writer Charles B. Griffith - their first of three horror-comedy collaborations, succeeded by The Little Shop of Horrors (which not only follows the same plot structure but also reused the sets) and Creature from the Haunted Sea - to pen the script in five days. Corman then shot the film in another five days on a budget of $50,000. Running an economical 66 minutes, it remarkably doesn't look nearly as cheap or as rushed as it undoubtedly was.

Miller's Walter Paisley is a cafe busboy who dotes on insufferably pretentious artists but has ambitions of being one himself. After accidentally killing a cat, inspiration strikes to cover it up as a grotesque yet dignified sculpture. When the local art critics and collectors respond positively to it, he's pressured to replicate the success. The taste of fame goes to his head, turning Walter into one of the obnoxious beatniks who once mocked him, amidst his inadvertent murder spree.

Miller cited A Bucket of Blood as his favorite role, and it is indeed a highlight of his storied career. Giving new meaning to the phrase "tortured artist," the pathos he brings to the character allows him to walk the line between protagonist and antagonist. Miller even subtly shifts his body language from a meek hunch to a poised swagger as his newfound notoriety boosts his confidence. Along with a bevy of Corman's B-movie regulars, the cast notably features Ed Nelson (Peyton Place) and future game show host Bert Convy (Win, Lose or Draw).

Corman’s filmmaking prowess lies not only in his penchant for pinching pennies, but also his talent for discovering and surrounding himself with talent. Despite the restricted time frame, director of photography Jacques R. Marquette (Burnt Offerings, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman) was able to deliver quality images. Shot in black and white, the use of shadows and lighting is inspired. Selections from the film's jazz score, composed by Fred Katz, were reused in The Little Shop of Horrors and Creature from the Haunted Sea.

A Bucket of Blood has been released on Blu-ray as part of Olive Films' Olive Signature line. Limited to 3,500 units, this edition is housed in a slipcase along with a booklet featuring an essay on the film and its legacy by Caelum Vatnsdal, author of You Don’t Know Me, But You Love Me: The Lives of Dick Miller. The film itself has been mastered from a new 4K scan, looking as pristine as ever in honor of its 60th anniversary, and is accompanied by a variety of special features.

In an interview shot mere months before his passing, Miller is joined by his wife, Lainie Miller, for a 12-minute interview. His declining health is apparent, but he remains charming, particularly in his interactions with Lainie. Corman, as efficient and sharp as ever at the age of 93, tells the story of the making of the movie in under eight minutes. An archival audio interview finds Griffith briefly discusses each of his scripts over the course of 20 minutes. The 8mm "digest" version of the picture, which could be enjoyed at home before VHS was invented, is included; condensed to an 8-minute, silent montage of murders followed by the final chase.

Elijah Drenner, director of the fantastic documentary That Guy Dick Miller, provides an audio commentary, which he begins by calling A Bucket of Blood "Corman's first great movie." It largely plays like a film historian track, detailing the production and its players, but his relationship with Miller makes it more engaging. Drenner also provides a brief visual essay comparing the original, 93-page script (titled The Yellow Door) to the final product, recreating unfilmed passages like an audio drama.

One of the most fascinating special features is the prologue from the film's German release, where - in a clever but misleading advertising strategy that would make Corman proud - it was marketed as a sequel to House of Wax. The 10 minutes of German footage purports that Walter Paisley is the last descendant of Vincent Price's character (portrayed by an unknown German actor under prosthetics). Extras are rounded out by a digital version of Vatnsdal's booklet essay, a gallery of recently discovered on-set photography, and the U.S. and German theatrical trailers.

Nary a dull moment among its lightning-fast pacing, A Bucket of Blood works remarkably well 60 years later. The concept remains timely, as both the social commentary and dark satirization of the counterculture art scene still play. It was already remade once as a TV movie starring Anthony Michael Hall in 1995, but you could swap out beatniks for today’s hipsters to make a contemporary, subversive slasher-comedy of errors in the vein of Tucker and Dale vs Evil.

A Bucket of Blood is available now on Blu-ray via Olive Films.

[pdremaster]

Please Murder Me (1956) [4K + Quality improvement + Colorization]

[johobi]

When You Least Expect It | 07

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung 

Word count: 8.4k

Warnings: sexting, phone sex, masturbation, vulgar, graphic language

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732419/navigate

A/N: I really gotta stop rushing myself in my excitement to get this story out, it shows in the quality of it. I hope this isn’t as bad as I fear it is. TT;

Next: 08 || WYLEI Masterlist

You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

You must be a princess. This was the only logical conclusion you could come to.

No, you weren’t so financially inclined as to slumber atop twenty silk and mohair-stuffed mattresses every night. But, much like the beloved fairy-tale, goddamn was there something digging into your back, determined to make its presence known. Even more so when the fiendish object began to vibrate incessantly again.

It wasn’t a pea. In this rather more mundane of settings, it was your phone on its fourth attempt at rousing you. You, who was about as early a bird as a fucking owl. And, though it came at the price of having a hundred curse words levelled at it, it finally succeeded.

You dislodged the offending gadget from the small of your back and held it above your face, unwilling eyes defiantly drooping shut. An errant finger moved before the rest of your hand had caught up and—

“Fuck!” you rasped with all the oral elegance of the possessed girl from The Exorcist. But, Jesus, it wasn’t undue. There was no way your gratuitously large smartphone hadn’t just obliterated the entirety of your facial bone structure. It was at least a certainty that your nose was broken.

Pincering the bridge of your nose between your thumb and fore finger, you rolled to and fro, cursing Steve Jobs to a tormented eternity in hell. The visual wasn’t unlike the agonised rocking you exhibited once a month, quite at the mercy of your murderous menstrual cramps.

Well, that woke you up.

A grumble subsiding in your throat, you clicked open your phone to observe the time you’d actually arisen. 07:45. Okay, not too bad. You weren’t due in to work for another hour and fifteen minutes.

A fatigued sigh escaped you – accompanied by what felt like your toil-weary soul – at the prospect of yet another day packed with nothing but work. Whether it be dispensing ostentatiously named beverages to the caffeine and sugar-deprived, or drudging through your unintelligibly scrawled exam notes; that’s all you had to look forward to today.

Okay, so that wasn’t strictly true. There was something you looked forward to each day, now. Every morning, to be precise. And that is why you’d spurned the steadfast affections of your lifelong cuddle buddy – a rather ratty-looking, floppy-eared stuffed dog – in favour of the eminently more adamantine of objects.

Your phone.

The centre of your face throbbed in the wake of its vicious betrayal.

Nevertheless, the homicidal device held the key to your daybreak delight. You clicked it to life once more – this time from the safety of your satin-sheeted roost – and beheld the thing that had you so excited. So excited, in fact, that you nuzzled the downy bosom of your pillows like some overcome adolescent. Despite plunging yourself face-deep into plushy darkness, a giddy smile illuminated your face.

And it had been as simple as three words. Three words that dazzled all the more for their lack of adornment. Three words he had unfailingly sent to you, every morning, since the kiss.

[07:35] Jungkook good morning, beautiful

You stared at them long enough for your phone to protest its grudging use of battery. Every time it went into hibernation, you prodded it into its reluctant waking. But you had to see it again, you see.

His name, his simple greeting.

They etched elation into your stinging cheeks.

Yes, every morning – it had been three days – since the party, Jungkook had taken it upon himself to burrow his way further into your ambivalent heart. Sleep had become fitful since, so restless with anticipation were you to read his daily greeting. Okay, so it was but a simple good morning, but it was less about the words and more about who it came from; a man that exhibited only the most genuine proclivity for being in your company. For hearing your voice, reading your words. Someone who’d taken an unsolicited initiative to make that plainly known.

He was serious.

That kiss – those kisses – had been serious. And the blind, frantic fondling that had followed – despite having been the fortuitous product of heated escalation – had been serious.

Someone wanted you. And not just anyone; someone whose only rival for thoughtfulness and decency were the mythical men mothers beseeched their daughters to get their hooks into.

If your mother were ever the type to give a shit about you, that was.

And he was hot as fuck, to boot. The most scrumptious of garnishes that complemented the gourmet platter that was Jeon Jungkook. This more superficial of his favourable traits was inconsequential to you in the run of things – you’d had your fill of pretty, pompous men – but entirely welcomed.

As sure as clockwork, your mind hounded the more unsavoury trajectory it always did after receiving his morning text. You relived your balcony frolic in 4k resolution, and then some – details you hadn’t even discerned at the time barged their way into your mental retelling of the scene.

How he’d smelt as fresh and crisp as your favourite Yankee candle; how his hands, resolute in their avoidance of your exposed flesh had so rampantly roved the backs of your thighs. How his affable, bashful demeanour shed the shackles of reticence and embraced something altogether more carnivorous.

And, yes, you’d touched yourself with abandon to these details twice a day since. So it was no surprise when a driven pulse began to emanate from somewhere you’d become intimately reacquainted. You’d always had a rather untameable libido, but it had waned of late, no doubt in protestation of the unlikelihood of ever receiving the sacred touch of Kim Taehyung. Jungkook had been the hands of the profane that had brought it roaring back to life. 

And you’d been tingling ever since.

Unfortunately, post-party, both of you had continued to bear ceaseless obligations. But that had been sufficiently remedied by your nightly, prolonged phone calls that jeopardised your cellular plan and threatened to hurl you further into debt. They also jeopardised your sleep, because saying goodbye was far too strenuous. Releasing your flatlining phone from your poorly-circulated, claw-like clutches had become as woeful an internal conflict as Rose letting go of Jack.

Like her, you did let go. But only because smartphone battery capacity was left sorely wanting, and the only outlet in your room was too far from your bed. And like some bratty, pampered cat, you weren’t about to sit for hours on your hardwood floor. Not even for Jungkook.  

But he was just so damn easy to talk to. Yes, all of your close friends were, but this was different; fragile, emergent.  A mutual, gluttonous desire to know everything about the other had consumed the two of you. So much so, that you questioned whether it were possible for you to have only known him for three weeks. As cliché as it was to think it, you felt as though you knew him exponentially more in-depth than such time would allow.

Every morning since his beginning this darling routine, you’d woken up far too late to catch him. Today, however – at the unremitting behest of your disgruntled phone – there arose the prospect of ensnaring him into a dazed, early morning conversation.

Your thumbs clumsily glanced the screen.

[07:47] Good morning, sexy

You were no longer teasing nor provoking him. No longer goading him with empty, sultry unsaids for your own, juvenile amusement. After your handful of Jungkook the other night, you meant every letter of the incitement.

Your incidental fondling hadn’t been candidly addressed in your exchanges, but it hadn’t left your dynamic untouched, either. After you’d so brazenly announced that you would be masturbating with him in mind that night – and he you – your successive calls dawdled uncertainly in their final, parting seconds, charged with intimation. And not even because the contents of the conversations had been sexual; it coasted, sure, but never steered into such territory.

In the verity of the early morning hours, your voices had become hushed, words suggestively stressed. Attestations of loneliness and of empty beds came unbidden. Breathy silences charged each second between. And then, as always, it ended, with an I can’t wait until I see you next.

A ping pierced the desirous cloak enshrouding you. Beholden to its master’s call, your heart skipped a beat.

[07:49] Jungkook wow, it is a good morning if you’re awake already

[07:50] Jungkook good for me, not so much for you i’m guessing lol

Your mind diligently narrated his every word. It hadn’t taken long for you to faithfully replicate his mellifluous tones. Greedily, you wished you’d paid more attention to the way his mouth formed your name.  The way it slid from his forked-tongue, like some diabolical incantation. 

But hearing, seeing it in your imagination wouldn’t be enough, soon. You wanted to wrench it – by the sweet persuasion of your hands – from him again and again, hear him scream, whine and howl it.

God, it was difficult to focus this morning. You weren’t sure if you possessed the fortitude to keep yourself in check.

[07:51] It is a good morning. I have my hand in my panties while I talk to you.

Yeah, you you didn’t.

Possess the fortitude nor have your hand stuffed down your front.

Yet.

But – and maybe it’d been the intermittent rumbling of your phone’s vibration function – you’d woken up from your night-long catnap like a frisky kitten.

In every way.

You watched, transfixed, his telling lack of forthcoming reply. The recurrent ebb and flow of dots that told you he was constructing his response had you crowing in your own company. Was he having trouble formulating words?

[07:54] Jungkook um, holy shit

[07:54] Jungkook you’ve outfoxed me, how can i react to that

For all your enthused thrashing, your bedcovers now lay, exiled, at the bottom of your bed. They clung for their dear lives, wrapped around your ankles. Gleeful exhilaration had you stomping your feet repeatedly on the mattress.

You wondered the sequence of Jungkook’s thoughts in this one minute of implicatory silence.

[07:55] Jungkook wait, really?

And when he asked you that, you began to hope. He seemed rather invested in the whereabouts of your hands.

[07:55] Maybe.

Playing coy was your favourite ploy.

You dangled the truth before him like the apple from the Tree of Knowledge. If he wanted it, he’d have to bite. Hard, preferably.

[07:55] Jungkook are you playing with me noona

[07:55] Jungkook tell me

If his last message had graced his lips and not been the unfeeling product of his phone’s keyboard, you knew it would have been the most deferential of entreaties, and not the command it read as. His habitual fawning over you should’ve instilled, in you, a sense of power. However, all it did was make you weak to gratify him.

Legs spread and free of obstructions, wayfaring fingers toyed with the hem of your panties. You decided to take it up a notch.

[07:56] I’m not. I wish I was.

You hoped he would interpret your words as intended. In truth, beyond everything else that night – mind-shattering kiss included – the one thing that reigned perennial was the impression his dick had left on your mind and in your palm. He’d been so fucking weighty.

[07:56] Jungkook fuck

He’d taken it exactly as intended. And now you would take him.

[07:56] Jungkook are you serious?

How charming. Still hesitant, still dutifully restrained. He was leaving you an out, but you only wanted in.

It was time to close this deal.

Figuring tangible, photographic evidence would prove the final nail in the coffin of his self-resolve, you took a rather demure – by your usual standards – top-down photograph of the indistinct exploration of your fingers. There was nothing explicit about it but for the things his imagination could conjure up. Sure, you were giving him a tiny glimpse at skin previously concealed, but the star of the show was your unassuming, pastel pink panties.

[07:57] ____ sent an image.

A tick appeared by the time stamp to indicate he’d received and viewed your offering. You hoped the length of time it took for him to reply was in direct parallel to the length your picture was fleshing him out to.

[08:00] Having trouble?

Your mind fabricated the most heaven-sent of images; Jungkook itching to free himself from his – what would a guy like him wear? Boxer-briefs, if it were your fancy – underwear.

[08:00] Jungkook more than a little

[08:00] Jungkook god, i…

[08:00] Jungkook i need you

It seemed like Jungkook was eager to participate, but lacking in confidence. You made it your mission to augment it.

[08:00] Are you hard, Jungkook?

[08:01] Jungkook so hard

A step in the right direction.

[08:01] Jungkook painfully hard

And a gut-churning embellishment. If he loosened up a little, shit, he could be good at this.

[08:01] Jungkook how are you doing this to me

[08:01] Jungkook this picture……

The tip of your tongue toyed with one of your canines, a Grinch-like grin curling your features. As nefarious as you felt, Jungkook had the upper hand. The steady, slickening throb between your legs was a tribute to his tender intrigue. You allowed yourself only the most zephyr of touches to graze the source of your body’s rhythmic pulsation. It stole a breath from you.

Jesus Christ, had you always been this sensitive?

Maybe.

But it had also been a long time since you’d felt compelled to give yourself such attention.

[08:01] Are you doing something with my picture, Jungkook?

Cursing yourself inwardly, you realised he might interpret your words as disapproving. Quickly, you followed up.

[08:01] Tell me what you like about it.

[08:01] Jungkook i can imagine

[08:01] Jungkook what your fingers are doing

[08:01] Jungkook and i

[08:01] Jungkook i want to do it

Fuck.

Yes, he meandered his way there, and when he got there he may not have been explicit. But, shit, it affected you all the same.

You grew bolder.

[08:02] I’m thinking about what it would be like to have your cock stretching me out, and not my fingers.

And you were. You imagined how he would part you upon entrance; how his meaty girth would spread open the deep reaches of your aching hole, demanding you accommodate him.

[08:04] Jungkook ffuck

[08:04] Jungkook are you really doing that?

Why couldn’t he believe it? You didn’t want to presume anything about his prior love life, but it seemed as though it had been absent of sexually forward women.

[08:04] I am. Mmm, I know you’d stretch me so good. I’m so tight around my fingers, but I need something more.

[08:05] Jungkook i’ll give you it

[08:05] Jungkook god, i’ll give you everything

[08:05] Jungkook fuck i just wanna go over there

Your breath hitched. He just needed a little more encouragement, you could sense it. He wouldn’t be able to curtail indecency for much longer. Your hips gyrated lazily into the heel of your hand while your thumb flicked your clit into an engorged rage.

[08:05] And do what, Jungkook? Tell me. I’m two fingers knuckle-deep in myself right now, I want to know.

[08:06] Jungkook fucjkoaiw

[08:06] Jungkook i wanna stuff your pussy with my cock

Holy shit. Your entire being felt resonated with the thrill of his unfettered words.

[08:06] Jungkook i don’t care anymore

[08:06] Jungkook god I need to fuck you to within an inch of your life

[08:07] Jungkook you’ve been begging for it all this time

This was taking a very delicious, unexpected turn. His every subsequent message spoke directly to your thoroughly provoked clit.

[08:07] Jungkook gonna give you what you deserve

Your head hit your pillow with a dull thump. You hadn’t even realised you’d been so taut. A wholly less pleasurable ache had begun to burn the wrist holding your phone overhead. But, honestly, you’d endured far worse cramps in your self-pursuit of pleasure. Nothing would sully this.

In your haste to reply, predictive text sought to foil you. But after growling an array of sexually frustrated expletives, you managed to weave together something with some coherency.

[08:08] Tell me what I deserve, Jungkook.

[08:08] God, you’ve gotten me so wet.

[08:08] Jungkook fuckj are you dripping

[08:08] Jungkook i bet you are ugh

Sure, his reserve was hot in all its corruptible allure. And yet, this bolder, authoritative side of Jungkook was pressing all the right buttons, too. Far too well, if your incapability to withstand such airy touches were any indication. The only thing standing between you and combustion was a hair-trigger.

[08:08] I’m so wet I can hear myself.

[08:08] I can hear just what it would be like to have you pounding into me.

[08:09] Jungkook godf

[08:10] Jungkook i wanna feel how warm and wet your pussy is

The interval between Jungkook’s responses seemed to be growing alarmingly. You didn’t want to miss out on what he was doing.

[08:10] Don’t be greedy, Jungkook. Tell me what you’re doing right now.

[08:10] Jungkook i

You weren’t about to let him get shy, either.

[08:10] Are you stroking yourself?

[08:10] Jungkook yess

[08:11] Jungkook i’m so close already i

[08:11] Jungkook i don’t know what you’re doing to me

[08:11] Jungkook i’m gripping m y dick so tight thinking about you

Your entire pussy lurched with a revelatory twinge. It spread from your epicentre outward, threatening to rupture you.

[08:12] Fuck, I want your dick in me, in my mouth, in my hands, everywhere.

[08:12] Jungkook u gh

[08:12] Jungkook i want to be face deep in your cunt

A faint, involuntary moan fled your gaping mouth. Holy shit. You hadn’t expected him to utilise such language. It only magnified the precariousness of your situation.

[08:12] Jungkook i want to taste you

[08:12] fuck

You hadn’t the presence of mind to elaborate further. And, pent-up and urging for your long-due release, one hand was lacklustre. You needed to finish this with a flourish.

Throwing your phone to your pillow, you left Jungkook’s number ringing and on speakerphone. If he was in anywhere near a critical condition as you right now, you expected him to pick up without hesitation.

And he did.

“Noona,” the word – your weakness – caressed your ears. His voice was unrecognisable, ungodly in its low pitch. You only regretted that you hadn’t been present to watch his descension into carnality.

A breathy whimper was the only response you could muster. This – made apparent by his resultant, guttural groan – was the correct one. For a few seconds you communicated back and forth only by the rhapsody of heavy breathing and unintelligible utterances.

“Jungkook,” you purred, coaxing him to an untimely end. You may as well have been invoking one of the devil’s many names for how blasphemous it rang. “Tell me how you want to fuck me.”

He was eager to please and be pleased. “Every way possible,” came his vague but gratifying response. It sounded as though he was having difficulty remaining articulate. Your pussy sucked all the harder on your fingers for what graced your ears, then.

It was faint, but distinctive. The sloppy, unmistakeable sounds of his every lubricious stroke. God, you salivated thinking about how thick, how veiny he doubtlessly was. You fingered yourself to the pace of his audible, steady motions. “Want you on your front, your back, I want—I want you to ride me, I want—” a hiss punctuated his libidinous list. “I want you over my knee—w-wanna spank you good for all the bad things you say.”

You growled, rather than spoke. “F-Fuck. You’re into that?”

It hadn’t been your cup of tea in the past, but it was surprising just how delectable it became when framed with Jungkook dead centre. Someone who deferred to you in most things, but not when it came to this. Not when you stirred him into losing his wits. Jungkook confessed to you breathlessly. “Not usually. Y-You make me want to do it.”

You batted your phone to the foot of your bed, closer to the squelching mess between your legs. “Can you hear me, Jungkook? How ready I am for you?”

Some stuttered, half-formed reply met your ears. Then, the cessation of movement and a muffled cussing. “Noona,” he begged. God, the term curled your toes in this context. “I barely stopped myself from coming. You caught me off-guard.”

“That’s my favourite way to catch you,” you chuckled; a throaty, strained sound. The measured circles you traced around your clit gradually honed in on their target. “I’m close, too. Where do you wish you could come, Jungkook?”

You heard the man in question choke on the other end of the line. You could just envision him gripping the base of his weeping cock in a futile attempt to stymy his oncoming climax. “Jesus, you—you’re something else,” he panted, unsteady. You wondered if his hands were shaking. Or if all of him was. “I—”

“Would you like to come on my tits? Dirty me up a little? On my face, maybe? Or do you wanna fill me right u—”

“F-Fuck!” was his hoarse scream. What followed were the sounds of frenzied, erratic pumping. “I’m coming—oh, God, noona, I’m coming. You’re making me come, I—”

Hearing him exult his dizzying rise and subsequent topple into orgasm saw you hurtling, inescapably, into your own. You wailed, unbridled, into the receiver. “J-Jungkook, I can feel you fucking me—you’re so deep, oh fuck, yes—”

“Unh—____, I’m coming, I’m coming. I’m gonna fill you—FUCK!”

A cacophony of mingled exclamation bruised your ears and ravaged your throat. Your eyes snapped shut, fully selling you the visual of Jungkook with a blurred fistful of himself, urging himself to completion with each slippery pass over his length. You recreated as faithfully as you could, the reddened head of his erupting cock, surging the contents of his tautened balls all over himself.

And that was when you felt the first, vicelike clench of your pussy.

Knees bent and feet planted to the mattress, your hips left the bed to seek out your frenetically plunging – but frustratingly shallow – fingers. With their meagre aid, though, you became fraught, your digits possessed by the spirit of Jungkook’s phantom cock.

You scorched, seared from within. Molten light blinded you, fissuring your ear drums until you heard nothing but a muffled ringing. And the heat, it spread like some rapturous pestilence, weakening and withering you with every resultant spasm.

God, but it went on for so long. Even when the most potent of tremors had subsided, your fingers still deeply embedded, your hungry orifice pulsed around them, mouthing at you to continue. Without a doubt in your mind you could have sped into a second, and probably even a third orgasm, but despite your brain’s sluggish, insatiable attempts to obstruct all rational thought, you knew you only had a half hour or so before work.

You could hear Jungkook’s breath levelling out. “Did you come all over yourself?”

A nervous chuckle filtered through the speaker. Embarrassment dogged him still, even streaked with the salty fruits of his efforts. You thought of him sitting there, rosy-cheeked and gulping for breath, holding his sagging cock. How could such an obscenely painted image still endear him to you? “Yeah, I’ve made quite the mess,” he admitted coyly. “I haven’t come this much in… I can’t even remember.”

The warmth of several satisfactions bloomed brightly in your chest. “I’m so happy I have that effect on you. Am I that powerful?”

“Without a doubt,” he groaned, though it was absent of the sexual excitement he’d exhibited earlier. No, he was definitely fucked-out and feeling it. “I know you’ve done something to me, but I don’t know what. I’m pretty sure you’re a witch, or something.”

You indulged him with a villainous cackle. “Yes, I’m definitely nothing if not that. But, hey, you got me off, too. Really, really well. My head’s still spinning.”

You heard his heart singing from here. His words spilled from behind a grin that, God, you wanted to kiss. So, so much. To have the heat of his panting, open mouth upon you, devouring your exhausted thank yous. For him to wrap you up in himself after, still tacky from the residue of your consummated attraction. “That makes me ridiculously happy. You don’t know how much I want to have you in person. Show you what you do to me—”

“Oh, God,” you moaned softly. He was riling you into an unavoidable round two. “Stop it, I’m still horny as fuck.”

He seemed pleased, if not a little smug. “Yeah? Are you sure you want me to stop? Even if I told you I’m already nursing a semi?”

Well, well. Despite appearances, behind the sweet, buck-toothed boy was a hungry, virile man. Your pussy trembled at the eventual promise of his hefty cock. “Jungkook,” you warned, heaving a tremulous breath. “I must be a bad influence, because you’re being as underhanded as me, now. But you’ll never win. D’you know why?” you left no gap for him to answer. “Because I’d be cleaning the cum from your soft cock with my mouth. Feel you get hard again against my tongue—”

A stifled gasp. “S-Shit.”

“—I’m good with my mouth, Jungkook. Have you ever been deep-throated?”

You heard the muffled rustling of material and a squeak of springs. He must be getting comfortable again. “Fuck. No, I haven’t.”

And that was when you knew you had him. No man could resist the promise of a hot, skilled mouth and willing throat. “Would you like me to let you fuck my throat?”

He acknowledged you with a needy whine. “God, I—I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Yes, I’d—fuck, I can’t even think about it.”

“Do you have your hand around your cock again?”

“I do, I’m trying to imagine it—”

“Okay, well, enjoy that image. I’m going to work,” you announced suddenly, snorting in delight at his loud, subsequent scrambling for his phone.

“W-Wait,” he pleaded, his voice much louder now. “I thought we were—”

“Thought we were, what? It’s 08:30, we both have to be in work for 09:00,” you reminded him, and you wished he could see the shit-eating grin you were toting.

There was a pause. You presumed he was checking the time to corroborate your disappointing news. “Fuck, it is. Man, I’m so worked up right now.”

A chuckle slipped out. “You can’t tease me and get away with it,” you shrugged to no-one. “Hope you can get it down before you get to the classroom, or you’ll probably be fielding some very tricky questions.”

Despite his crestfallen huffing, you could practically hear Jungkook crack a smile. “You think you run things here, but you’re going to regret this when I see you,” came his ominous – and heart-poundingly sexy – warning.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you simpered sweetly.

The tension brewed like an overfilled kettle, ready to whistle. Mercifully, he pulled the cord. “Okay, I’ll let you get to it. I gotta get ready, too. And, uh, take care of what you’ve left me with.”

You snickered. “Have fun. I’ll text you later.”

He released you with a murmur of agreement. “Talk soon.”

It was difficult to extract yourself from your bed, after that. Your limbs may as well have been lead weights for all their lack of cooperation. Still, it was pleasant, and it was a distant wish that you could just lay there all day, rereading your future spank bank material. You know, like one of those bedbound – for the sheer sexual exhaustion – all-day affairs that pioneering couples embark on. Except, it’d literally just be you and your poor, long-suffering phone. Oh, the things it had seen and sent in all your years of possessing it.

It was an increasing likelihood that you would, indeed, be rolling out of bed and into work with every hair out of place, every angry pimple glowing like a distress beacon. But you’d just been phone-fucked by, arguably, one of the hottest guys you’d ever met, so it was a miniscule cross to bear.

And on the subject of hot guys, regrettably, Taehyung began to seep into your vulnerable, spent mind. Even now, in the glorious, nigh-impenetrable shroud of your orgasm’s aftermath, he assailed you. It was with a pang of dullened sorrow that you acknowledged his lack of contact since the party.

Not a call, not a text, not a nothing.

Hadn’t he been the one imploring you not let this exact situation occur? Furthermore, you were still due to meet him tomorrow evening – an arrangement he hadn’t thought to break his confusing silence over to cancel. Because, surely, if you’d done something to upset him, he would’ve cancelled, right? His behaviour was most bizarre.

A memory, obfuscated by the artifice of alcohol, came to you then. Taehyung’s slumped figure, his indiscernible, glassy eyes. You remembered how tragic the scene had appeared, but at the time you’d been too frazzled, too belligerent to notice. Or, maybe, you had noticed, but you’d been too angry to allow concern for his wellbeing to dilute your vexation.

Because anger was new. Better, even. Far more tolerable. It raged like a petrol-doused house, casting you in the glow of its destruction. You could stand at a safe distance and watch. Sadness, jealousy, and yearning, however, saw you inside the very same house and turning to ash.

And despite this, your thumb still hovered over his name. Because not talking to him for three days felt like a term in solitary confinement; like you hadn’t really been using your voice at all. Like your vocal chords had been God-given, designed for the sole purpose of communicating with his most angelic creation. Entertaining Taehyung’s cheesy jokes, berating his sloppy eating habits. Whispering consolation at his most needy. Using them otherwise was to deny them their true purpose.

You felt empty without him.

Sagacious words halted you from touching the screen, though. Hoseok had dispensed some invaluable advice – advice that had, sure enough, been improving the quality of your life since you began to heed it.

There was no need to check in on him.

You were seeing him tomorrow, after all. Hoseok had no idea, of course, and you knew to apprise him of such was to ensure your not seeing him any time soon. You knew it would be far too suspicious of you to continually refuse Taehyung’s offers of company, anyway.

Tomorrow was just as vital to maintaining the plan.

You liked to tell yourself that, at any rate. Because you knew, deep down, that you longed to see his stupid, chubby cheeks and anomalous mouth again. He was as much a certain in your life as the setting sun; had engraved himself an eternal place in the flesh of your barren heart. Taehyung was indelible. And life before him may as well have been non-existent, because you bore no treasured memories from that time.

With that last, poignant thought, you finally hauled yourself out of your nest, buzz fully abated. The best thing that was going to happen to you had already occurred within the first 30 minutes of your waking. And the rest of the unappealing, misery of a day stretched out before you like a red carpet lining the road to hell.

“What are you smiling about?” Hoseok snooped.

You’d blown into work, as much a wreck as you’d always looked – the blackberry bruise forming on the bridge of your nose an unintentional flair – and yet something about you had apparently piqued his curiosity. When you’d escaped to the bathroom to ensure Jungkook hadn’t somehow jizzed so hard it’d landed, 3 miles away, on your face, nothing had seemed unusual. Sure, there may have been a lingering glow to your cheeks, but that was it.

“Is it that weird that I’m smiling? God, I must be a right miserable shit to be around,” you deflected, dropping the incriminating expression.

Hoseok wasn’t easily deterred. “You’ve also been wiping the same table for the last 10 minutes,” he cornered you. With a sigh of surrender, you turned to regard him, hands planted on your hips.

An arch smile played on your lips, animating him. “Okay, I’m happy today.”

He grasped your shoulders and stooped so he could look you dead in the eye. “You fucking got some, didn’t you?”

You smothered his face with the palm of your hand and pushed him away, snorting your objection. “Jesus, Hoseok. Language,” you warned, but none of your present patrons seemed to take notice. They were far too absorbed in the glare of their respective digital devices.

He bounced back, all blinding teeth. He was a forced to be reckoned with. “You did, didn’t you?”

“What makes you think that, exactly?” you quirked a brow, neither confirming nor denying. In hindsight, that only implicated you all the more.

His answer was not convincing. “I just have a sixth sense for this sort of thing.”

“Right,” you muttered dismissively, looking to the front of the shop to see if there was anyone to serve. Unfortunately, no chance to escape presented itself. It’d been a rather quiet morning, so far.

Hoseok was unashamedly bold. “So, what’s he like?”

“Who?” you would continue to dance around the subject for as long as you could prolong his frustration.

“_____,” came his pleasing whine. “Come on, indulge me a little. I saw you with your hands full at Yoongi’s party. I know things have been progressing,” he stressed the final word with the most blatant of winks. If he’d sought to preserve your modesty with his substitution of improper words, he had ruined it with that.

You owed Hoseok a lot, and it wasn’t like it was some closely-kept secret. But you’d wanted to withhold any gushing – as enticing as it was, because Jungkook warranted it – until you’d firmly found your feet with him. As it was, the temptation to offload was rocketing with his persistence. “Okay, okay. No, we didn’t,” you cast a furtive look around the café and lowered your voice. “—fuck. But we had a pretty good time this morning despite our distance from each other. Get what I’m saying?”

Hoseok actually fist-pumped. “I knew it. I fucking knew it!” you were one second away from stuffing his mouth with your dishcloth. “I knew he’d be good for you.”

You had to give him that. “Well, unusually, you were right on point. But, what about you? How have things been going with ol’ Yoongs?”

He paled. “Uh, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“What? Things seemed to be going pretty well at the party,” you blinked, confused. They’d certainly seemed to be vibing that night.

Hoseok deflated with the most defeated of sighs. “They were going well. As friends. That’s how we’ve always been, and always will be. He’s not interested.”

“But he is!” you protested hotly. Hoseok seemed taken aback. “I’ve seen it from the outside, he’s totally open to it. Waiting, even. You know this kind of thing isn’t Yoongi’s strong suit. You need to make the first move.”

He appeared to be stewing it over. “You think so?”

“Yes. I know it’s terrifying to put yourself out there, especially as you’ve been friends for so long. You know how well I understand that. But he’s giving off all the right signals,” you urged, giving his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “He gets flustered whenever I bring it up.”

Hoseok drooped. “I’ll think about it, but I don’t know. It’s a huge gamble, and you could be wrong.”

You understood completely. “Whatever you decide, it’s the right choice. I’ll be here to help you either way.”

He pulled you into an appreciative hug before his eyes and ears caught the arrival of a new customer. Hoseok glanced at his watch and span you around to usher you towards the breakroom at the back. “Time for your break. No skipping, missy.”

You brushed his hands aside and pivoted to the entrance. “I’m fine, I’m pretty energetic toda—”

The customer was Taehyung.

Your mouth gormlessly hung open. For all the unlikely people that could’ve stepped foot into the café today, for some reason, you’d considered him the most. “Tae?”

And you could’ve sworn there’d been some perturbation. Some fleeting, unsettled look sweeping the expanse of his beautifully broad features. But then it was gone. “____,” he greeted, an ambiguous smile curling his lips. “I didn’t know you were working today.”

That didn’t get past you. Was that why he’d seemed so disconcerted?

Hoseok looked most apologetic. “Sorry, Tae, I forgot you were dropping by today.”

Your head whipped around. “For what?”

“To finally return the massive pile of games I’ve gradually accumulated,” Taehyung answered for him. “I had to run errands in this part of town at lunch anyway, so I let Hoseok know I’d be around to finally drop them off.”

You affixed a benign smile. “Oh, I see.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, and yet it did. How wounded, excluded you felt for not being the reason for Taehyung’s visitation. No, he hadn’t even bargained on you being there.

You’d had enough.

Ignoring the look Hoseok attempted to pin you with, you gestured to the back. “I’m taking my break now, do you wanna stick around for a chat?”

Taehyung seemed to brighten a little. “Sure, I have some time.”

You shot him a winning smile – and Hoseok an appropriately sheepish one – as you led him to the breakroom and away from inquisitive ears.

Two in particular.

As you rummaged through the cupboards for your favourite biscuits, you heard the scrape of a chair behind you. A slump and a sigh followed.

Kettle filled and boiling, you turned to him with your arms crossed. No more games. “What’s going on, Tae?”

He looked away for a moment, though his face was absent of any telling emotion. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, so don’t bullshit me. You’ve been awfully quiet the past few days,” you seated yourself opposite so you could better observe him. He looked fine, normal. And normal for Taehyung was perfect. There was a noticeable lack of shadowed, red-rimmed eyes. No enduring signs of sleepless nights or difficult conversations. He was peachy.

A listless shrug. “So have you,” he countered.

It was true. You’d always waited for Taehyung to reach out first, so proactive was he. Perhaps you’d taken it for granted? “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

And it was unbearable now. You couldn’t withstand this aberrant tension any longer. You reached across the table to grasp his hand, startling him into looking up at you. “Noona?”

That’s when his eyes zeroed in on your rather prominent injury. Immediately he was on his feet, seizing your face between his hands without any of the tenderness he normally exhibited. His thumbs grazed the outline of your throbbing bruise. You winced, tugging at his wrists in an attempt to free yourself from his uncomfortably close scrutiny, but he would not yield.

Your breath left you when he only drew you closer.

“What is this?” he interrogated you. And he was interrogating you, because his voice was no longer soft nor moderate. It was sonorous, intimidatingly so.

Primal urges be damned. Because your eyes, rather than do the decent thing and regard his own, darted to his painfully close lips. You witnessed there, from your blessed vantage point, the moles you so dearly loved – and which Taehyung despised.

One on the tip of his flawlessly formed nose.

And the other you envied for skimming his succulent bottom lip. Your tongue swept out to wet your mouth in preparation for a crime you would not be committing.

Despite Jungkook, despite this morning’s emphatic cravings for him, why—

“Answer me,” his voice dropped an octave lower. A shiver ricocheted its way along your brittle bones. Brittle, because you felt as fragile as a sparrow in his unrelenting hold.

Like he was an incubus that had drained you of your life’s energy, your voice shook dangerously. “It’s a bruise.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. It bewildered you immensely to see him so volatile. What the fuck had provoked this? “Did he do this to you?”

You dropped your hands from his wrists and stood there, aghast, watching the tumult in his eyes. Storm clouds stirred in their murky depths. And you recognised in him, then, the same muzzled beast that had previously broken free to protect you. “Jungkook? You think Jungkook hit me?”

His lip curled. “Did he?”

Your brain belatedly kicked into gear. “N-No! Oh, God! I dropped my phone on my face this morning. That’s all that happened. Jesus, Taehyung,” you released a breath you had been unknowingly holding when he loosened his grip on you. “Jump to conclusions much?”

He lowered his gaze in remorse, but his thumbs lingered a little too long, strayed a little too much. One brushed your chin, narrowly missing your jutted lip. “I’m sorry.”

And then he let you go. 

You swayed there dumbly, staring into middle distance.

You snapped out of your trance when Taehyung sunk into his chair. The roiling boil he had come to seemed to have mercifully dwindled. His features burned, instead, with shame. “I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know why that was my first impression,” Taehyung mumbled, casting his eyes once more over your swelling. “It just—it really looks like someone’s socked you in the face.”

Admittedly, it did look like that. You’d had to assuage Hoseok’s concerned flapping, too. Though, interestingly, he hadn’t assumed that Jungkook had been the one to deliver the blow.

You were acutely aware that you didn’t have long with him. “Forget it. It’s fine, honestly. I—I just wanted to say that I agree with what you said,” you stammered, still shaken by how physical he’d gotten. That didn’t stop you from reuniting your palms, though. It was the most singular, precious feeling to have his large, generous hands eclipse your own. “You’re always there for me when I need you. And I’m here for you. I won’t take your friendship for granted. Is that why you stopped messaging me? To see if I would do something about it?”

The possibility that Taehyung was becoming sick of your standoffish behaviour terrified you. You hadn’t intended to antagonise him into reacting in such a way. Just the thought of him tiring of you enough to cut you out of his life had your heart at a gallop.

Taehyung shook his head, a silken curtain falling over his eyes. “Of course not. I’m not immature—well, that immature. I just,” he trailed off, opting to stare at your conjoined hands instead of meeting your gaze. “I saw how well you and Jungkook were getting on at the party, and—”

“Oh, shit,” you cut him off, crimson immediately flooding your cheeks. You withdrew your hand to obscure your face. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight at the time, and I—”

It was his turn to interrupt. “Why are you apologising?”

The pointedness of the question caught you off-guard. “Uh, well—b-because it was pretty gross of me to be all over him so publicly, I guess. I hadn’t meant for anyone to see it.”

His eyes were as vacant as the hand that remained outstretched and bereft of your hold. “There’s no need for you to apologise,” he stated gently, finally meeting your gaze. “I was just going to say, I thought I would give the two of you space. I know I’m a bit suffocating—”

You wanted to crush him to you, to stroke his infuriatingly soft hair and allay his baseless fears. Taehyung was nothing if not eternally wanted.

But you knew better than to do that.

“—and, I guess, I’ve never really had to—and I know that this sounds horrible, but I don’t know any other way to put it—share you with someone else. You know, share your time. Jungkook has been taking up a lot of it, and I wanted to respect that,” he rambled, looking down to oversee the war that was raging between his thumbs as he groped for words. “I figured your recent reluctance to talk to me was based on that. So, I wanted to give you space.”

You had been holding him at arms’ length, and he, you. The space left between you was nothing but a mess of misunderstandings and thinly veiled – on your side, anyway – secrets. And rather than simplifying things between you, it had only complicated and strained them further.

The click of the kettle prompted you to stand. “Tae, you don’t need to do such a thing. I have been a little distant, yes, but I swear to you it’s because my finals are in, like, two weeks, and my mind has just been elsewhere,” you painted your little lie white as you fixed the two of you a cup of tea. “I’m spending time with Jungkook, yes, but you’re also important. Super important. You don’t need to go to such lengths to cater to what you think I want. It’s not what I want,” you stressed, placing the steaming beverage before him.

And that was the first time today you saw his stubbornly downturned mouth entertain a wholehearted smile. He seemed infinitely happier all of a sudden. “So I was just overthinking it like an idiot?”

“You were, indeed, overthinking it,” you shot him a roguish grin. “And you are, indeed, an idiot.”

He mirrored your expression as he slurped at his tea. God, as irritating as the sound was, you had sorely missed it. You’d let him off, just this once. “Glad to have that confirmed.”

“How are things with Tara?” you questioned him tenderly, his final, defeated appearance at the party at the forefront of your mind. “Is everything okay between you?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows leapt to his hairline. He was openly, unambiguously surprised. Had you misinterpreted everything? “Yeah, everything’s great,” he insisted. There didn’t appear to be anything suspect about the way he said it, either. “What makes you think that? Especially after you—uh—walked in on us.”

Oh, God, you thought you’d razed the vomit-inducing scene from your memory. Now that he presented you with that particular flashcard, it replayed rather vividly behind your eyelids. “You’re right,” you relented with an apologetic grin. “I’d forgotten about that. I guess we’re both guilty of inappropriately timed romps.”

“Romps,” Taehyung echoed, amused. “You come out with some weird words.”

“Don’t change the subject,” you chided. “You looked really sad when I saw you last, that’s why I asked.”

He appeared to be mulling over your suggested scenario, as though the memory was difficult to access. “Honestly, I have no idea. I was super-duper smashed. I was probably just drunk out of my mind.”

That made sense. He had slurred what few words he’d imparted to you.

You eyed him warily. “So… you’re good?”

He dragged you into a cross-table hug, your cups lashing the table with their rapidly cooling contents. “I’m good, silly. You sound like me when I nag you endlessly about how you’re doing.”

You pushed at his elbows for release. He had a knack for caging you, for rendering you breathless. Emotionally and physically. When finally, he relented, you whipped out your cloth to mop up the spillage, but he wrested it from your hands to do it himself. “Tae—”

“You’re on your break, it’s nothing. Sit down,” he ordered, and you did. The oddly tense, unspoken situation between the two of you must have amounted to most of your shouldered burdens recently, because with the resolution of your various misunderstandings, a great, weightless relief threatened to see you floating skyward.

“I’m really glad we talked about this,” you mumbled, watching him toil in your place.

He peered up at you through the locks of his overlong fringe and gave you a smile that bode ill for your tempestuous insides. “Me too. I can’t wait for tomorrow night, it’s been a long time coming.”

“Yes, it has,” you agreed, forcing him back into his seat with a marked press on his shoulders. “It’s a shame you decided to return all those games today, I saw a few of my favourites in there.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “Shit, you’re right. Still, there are plenty of things we can do,” he mused. “Okay, two. Netflix and eat.”

“After the month I’ve had, it sounds like heaven to me,” you shrugged, needlessly slapping the soaked rag to the ground. You were indignant of having to work the rest of your shift, and then spend an inordinate amount of hours slaving in the library. “Honestly, I could just go to yours for a nap and enjoy being unconscious for 3 hours.”

“If you want to nap, you can nap. If you want to marathon Doctor Who, we can do that. Whatever you want,” he avowed selfessly. “It’s your night, not mine. You’ve been working so hard.”

A groan of complaint. “Oh, stop. You’re way too nice to a dick like me,” you grumbled, your guilt manifesting in your words.

Taehyung didn’t know why. “Don’t ever compare yourself to such an ugly body part,” he tutted, his face pinching comically. For a man so attractive as to incite distress in the general populace, he possessed a bemusing fondness for pulling the most uncomely of expressions.

Just another reason to love him.

The words just slipped out. Whether it was because being in Taehyung’s presence wasn’t as excruciating as it was but 3 weeks prior, or because your cathartic masturbation session had loosened your inhibitions, you weren’t sure. “It’s actually my favourite.”

He conveyed no shock, nor revulsion. Cryptically, his eyes flickered with a steady fire that had you squirming. “I’m seeing a lot of new sides to you, lately,” was his abstract summation.

“Sorry,” came your characteristically lame reply. You glanced at the clock above your heads. “Shit, I’ve gotta get back to it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Taehyung left his chair with an ear-splitting scrape and rounded the table to gift you with the full-body hug you’d subconsciously been craving for three days. “You will. I’ll get the food in, my treat.”

Your face was squished to his chest in the most unbecoming way. “I know you’re not insisting, but if you insist. I’m dirt poor.”

A tectonic chuckle reverberated throughout your body. And then, there it was again.

His face, his mouth against the crown of your head. Nuzzling you like you were a pair of courting creatures. A low murmur propagated the warmth of his breath across your tingling scalp. “I’ll see you then, noona.”

And then he was going, backing away to the door you’d entered from, an angelic smile appling his rosy cheeks. Your face was tellingly hot, and you didn’t dare consider the possibility that he could catch onto your facial misgivings. Not when you were so close to overcoming this.

Right?

You thought of Jungkook. You conjured everything you so adored about him to parade before your appreciative eyes.

And yet.

And yet, nothing could smother the giddy anticipation that smouldered at having Taehyung all to yourself tomorrow.

-

Next: 08 || WYLEI Masterlist