#the wardrobe department never let me down - I love them

[stagefoureddiediaz]

If that shirt is the 6x01 shirt Im literally flinging myself into the sun with you. Everyday I think about how they were notttt talking about lucy and being captain at all in that scene. The subtext was HEAVY

I shall arrange transport for us all to fling ourselves into the sun!

I have so many thoughts about the lasagne of it all - that metaphor has been so so loud since we got that 601 dinner at Bucks scene and the subtext of that scene still makes me feel unhinged! It just makes me more convinced than ever that we were going to get canon Buddie in s6 - had that been the end of the show and it not been picked up by ABC!

I’m so feral right now that I just don’t know what to do with myself!

[fruithoughts]

PRINCESS TREATMENT

‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤh. joshua x fem!reader  ⪩⪨

01.ㅤۗㅤ𝙼ember .  ⎯⎯⎯  joshua.

02.ㅤۗㅤ𝙲𝚆 .  ⎯⎯⎯ multiple pet names, possessive thoughts, mentions of blowjobs(m.) and sex, just a very gentle guy who loves his girl more than anything.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua whose instagram is filled to the brim with pictures of his beautiful girl, sometimes he forgets to tag you but it’s okay because it takes no sherlock holmes to figure out your username since he only follows your account and a naruto fanpage. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who wants you to meet his parents in less than a month into the relationship, it’s extremely important to him to make it as clear as possible that he is serious about you, leaves no room for overthinking at all, always a step ahead of you in the “would you still love me if i was a worm?” department, the best boy indeed. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who would rather take a bullet than let you pay for literally anything, because how dare you even suggest paying for your own things? as if you don’t know the only reason he works so hard it’s exactly so he can pamper you endlessly? the absolute nerve of you, better get on your knees and start apologizing.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who is the sassiest and most dramatic guy you’ve ever been with, but can not for the life of him handle the thought of you doing any work at all, in every aspect, which, ironically, sometimes makes you work even harder to get what you want.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who makes it the world’s most difficult challenge to accept receiving head from you for the first time, he enjoys being the one doing all of the work to make you feel good, he just couldn’t see how blowing him off would please you at all so he kept denying(while completely ignoring the tent forming rapidly in his grey sweatpants) until you begged too sweetly, so softly, looking at him with so much adoration and love, like you wanted nothing more than to please him, he could have finished right there but instead he shook his head and sat down in the bed, ready to give his princess anything she could ever want, just like he promised he would! even if what she wanted was to kneel in front of him and try to fit his thick cock into her little mouth for a while.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who uses every opportunity that stumbles across his way to show off his huge arms, it’s a win-win scenario, he gets to feel all hot and manly and you get to hold onto your boyfriend’s strong biceps everywhere you go and get carried on bride style after a night out that, honestly, didn’t even leave you that drunk, but since he offered to carry you, who would ever say no?

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who adores your nails and is always super excited to see the results of your nail appointments, asks for pictures during the whole process, sends you food when it’s taking too long, and finally when the nails are done, he’s there to pick you up in his shiny car, more than ready to do the last step of your nail day, which is putting them to the test, the scratch test. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who just can’t help but adore when you leave him all marked up, he loves it, and how can you blame him? was he supposed to be normal about having proof straight on his body of just how good he made you feel last night? how could you even consider he'd do such a thing? this man is not normal about you in general. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who knows your entire wardrobe like the back of his hand, half of it because he bought it, the other half because of how often he’s watching you, definitely a “i look at you more often than you think” kinda guy. he’s very proud of just how well he knows his baby.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who remembers all of your food preferences and orders, knows all of your allergies, all of your icks and all of your friend’s gossips because he’s just so well behaved! he won't tell anyone, he never would! he's your joshy! you can trust him to keep all of your secrets, forever.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who’s very open about the fact that he wants to marry you, live the rest of your lives together, maybe with a kid if you’re into that, maybe just dogs if that’s better for you, he got his own wishes when it comes to creating a family, but at the end of the day; this man has one priority, and she has a name. whatever is best for you, it’s the best for him.

⪩⪨ husband!joshua who no matter how long it has passed since you got married, has not lost even a little bit of his obsession with you. his precious flower, his cute little thing, his darling, his sweet girl, that’s all you’ll ever be to him, all his to love and protect, forever.

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK

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

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k

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

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

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

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You mirror their gesture as well. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,”

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

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

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

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

Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.

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

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

You reciprocate the hug he gives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No worries. Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When are you off?” He asks.

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

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

“Yeah. Later.” 

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

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

“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shoot.

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

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

But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?” 

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

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

“Wha—”

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

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

“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I— huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.” You smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook looks at you apologetically.

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

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

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

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

Jungkook grins.

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

“Okay, Anton Ego.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“__,” Sol calls beside you. 

“Huh?”

“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.

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

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

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

“Okay. Just text me.” 

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

Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.

12:10pm. 

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

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

But then again, he seems to be busy.

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

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

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

You receive a reply a few seconds after. 

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

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

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

Oh. Okay. That tracks. 

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

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

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

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

Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod along to his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you document everything?”

Your response comes in a little curt.

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

Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and your jokes…”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.

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

You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.

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

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

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

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

“You can stay at mine for the night.”

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

“No.” You shake your head.

“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.

You stare at him right back.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He raised his brow.

“I can’t think of reasons right now.���

“You don’t need to think at all.”

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

Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You visibly wince at the mention of work.

He’s right and you kind of hate it.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook visibly stills.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook looks at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“__?”

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

“Yes?” You answer.

“Do you have clothes in there?”

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

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

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

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

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

He stops. And then you stop.

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

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

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

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

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

“T-thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.

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

Why was he naked?!

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

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

Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head vigorously.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

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

“It’s your place.” You reason.

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The temp’s fine.”

He hums and puts down the remote.

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

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

“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay, just sit there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay… how about your stuff?”

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

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

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

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

You look right back at him weird.

“You’re not serious.”

“When am I not serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

So you decide to joke a little.

“Probably not.” You tease.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t cook.” You point out.

“I already know that.”

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

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

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

“I can cook.” He chuckles.

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

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

You sigh, out of reasons now.

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

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

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

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

That prompts you to put a frown on your face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a small salute.

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

You laugh at his squinted eyes. 

"I was going to say yes, anyway."

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

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

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

Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

     — Jungkook.

That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.

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

And you did not forget to say that either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”

He nodded.

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

Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.

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

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

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

Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”

You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The X-Files. You know the show?”

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

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

“What’s it about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god!”

“What the fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We slept together.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” You parrot back.

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

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

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

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

Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

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

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

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

You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.

“Six thirty.”

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

You failed to do that, obviously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That prompts you to laugh.

“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”

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

You cock your head to the side.

“What’s the occasion?”

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

You nod in understanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook grins. “A dream.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook looks at you briefly.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.

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

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

“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.

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

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

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

“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”

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

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

You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

You scrunch your face. “Me too.”

And then a beat of silence.

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

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

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

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.

You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.

Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.

“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.

“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.

You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”

When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.

“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”

Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”

“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.

Jungkook bursts out in laughter.

“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”

“Are you?” You pout.

Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.

“Alright…”

You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.

“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”

“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”

“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”

Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”

He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.

“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.

You nod your head. His playful smile drops.

“Are you serious?”

You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”

He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.

“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”

You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.

“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”

Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.

“Oh.”

You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You grin. “Interesting insight.”

“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.

When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.

Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”

You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”

You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”

Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.

“How do you know her?”

“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.

Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff.

“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”

He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”

“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.

It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.

Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.

But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.

“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”

The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.

But of what?

You shake off the idea in your head.

“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.

“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.

You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.

It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.

“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.

Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”

You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.

“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”

Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”

“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.

You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”

Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.

“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”

When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.

Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”

“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”

“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.

“Like all of them?”

“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.

“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”

You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.

Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”

You try to think about it.

“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”

Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”

You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”

It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.

But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.

But right now, his question feels real.

If he is flirting with you… do you like it?

You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.

Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.

“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.

You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”

He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.

“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.

“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.

“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.

You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.

You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.

“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.

“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.

Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.

It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.

Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?

“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.

That makes them part.

You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.

“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.

Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.

“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.

You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.

And you know Jungkook notices.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.

His only response is a small, gentle hum.

A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.

You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.

It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.

You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.

When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.

“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.

You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.

“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”

“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.

“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”

You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t mind.”

You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”

You giggle against his chest.

“Carry me before I pass out.”

Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”

“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.

“Fine.”

TAGLIST: @mortal-body-timelesssoul @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lachimolalajeon @miniesjams32 @parkinglot-nights @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aznstoner @chuberry22 @tae-hibiscus @jungkooksmytype

note: pls check your account settings if you are enabling ur profile to be tagged.

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[cumikering]

Ex bf John Price x reader 2

2.7k | soft smut, angst, comfort Your closure (part 1)

You fiddled with the simple gold band. You hadn’t expected to see John, especially not there of all places. You did’t know why you even said anything. You should have walked past.

You remembered how you shook that afternoon in Hereford, gripping the edge of your seat and breaking down as the train departed. You didn’t care what you looked like. How could you when you’d just ripped your heart out.

For days you holed up in your childhood bedroom, where you’d taken him into countless times. Your bed didn’t dip the same way without his weight. When you unwittingly pulled out one of his shirts from your wardrobe, you sobbed into it. You lived out of your luggage until you got your own place.

Perhaps you were desperate, or just silly, that you wore his gift as a wedding ring. That way maybe you could rationalise the hole in your life was from losing your husband, not just a boyfriend because dear God, he was so much more than that. As a sick vow that you’d never want to lose him to war, so you’d never crawl back. You had wanted to so many times.

You wrote John Price letters the nights you couldn’t sleep. You always loved to think about him, even when he wasn’t yours to think about anymore. Some mornings in the haze of slumber, you’d wake up to your empty bed thinking he’d left for the day. It took another second for it to dawn on you that he was never there. You took 10 more minutes to get up.

Sometimes you grabbed plates, one too many, and cooked four eggs instead of two. At the supermarket you’d reach for his favourite crisps before realising you didn’t have to anymore. Some nights you left the door unlocked out of habit.

But the sun promised yet another day. The tears grew fewer and further between. Spring came and you found the box of letters you wrote. You counted - there were 56.

You’d never forgotten about him, even that the memory had loosened its claws on you. Despite the gnarly scar, the wound had dried.

But that day, after not speaking to each other for years, something crumbled in you. Was it his tired eyes? The way he stood, his weary smile? His beanie?

John Mother Fucking Price.

Did he hold onto the memories like you did too after all?

That evening, you laughed at yourself as you drove to his parents’. Knuckles white over the steering wheel, you stared at the front door as your heart raced. You rested your forehead against the wheel with a heavy sigh.

Why did you even come? What were you going to say? Did he even want to hear whatever it was you had to say?

You heart almost stopped when there was a tap on the passenger’s window.

It was John. Of course it was.

You unlocked the car with a shaky breath. He slipped in and rubbed his hands together, blowing them. The distant streetlight cast a soft glow on his face as he held your gaze.

“You alright?” he rasped, breaking the long silence.

You gave him a crooked smile, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” you muttered, more to yourself.

His eyes flicked to your hand. “I think you do,” he said in a low voice.

“It’s from you, John.” You held it up to him. “The last one.”

His breath caught, blue eyes searching yours. “Tell me you hate me before I do something stupid.”

You wrapped your arms around him over the console. He took a frantic breath of your hair, and you almost whimpered at the way your face still fitted so perfectly in the crook of his neck. He smelt the exact same.

“I can’t hate you,” you sighed. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

You told yourself if you shut your eyes tight enough, the tears wouldn’t spill. They did anyway when he let out a choked sob. His beard tickled and it didn’t take long for his tears to dampen your neck.

“Love, I’ve- Fuck. Nothing has ever hurt this much.”

Your fingers ran through his soft hair, right above the nape of his neck the way he liked it.

“If call it quits… If I give up everything, would you have me back?”

“You wouldn’t,” you whispered. The truth still tasted bitter despite the years.

He gripped your shoulders, glassy eyes boring into yours. “Each time I come knocking with someone’s tags, a part of me dies too. I never want it to be you. I’ll never let it be you breaking down at our door.”

“Don’t do this to me, John.” Your face twisted. “Don’t… Don’t say all these things when-“

“You gave up your life for me. It’s my turn to do the same.” His thumb caressed your cheek. “I’d follow you anywhere. You just have to ask.”

You sobbed. He stroked your hair, your face pressed onto his shoulder, leaving dark patches on his sweater. When you cradled his wet cheeks, he fisted your sweater.

In his steady arms, you could never be safer. As the windows fogged up, you wished the night was as endless as your kisses.

The streets of Liverpool had settled when John closed the door to your apartment. His eyes remained puffy, but his smile was brighter than when they were dry.

You’d missed that. The way his warm eyes crinkled, how his lips curved.

He tentatively pulled you by the waist, pressing your body against his. You never thought you’d feel those sturdy hands on you again.

You led him to your bed and flicked the bedside lamp on before pulling him on top of you. He stilled over you, the warm light illuminated the lines of his face. You traced the shape of him, his lower lip, his faint freckles, his tired eyes. He shut them with a shaky sigh. He was perfect.

“I’ve missed you, John,” you whispered. “So much.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss you,” he rasped, grasping your waist as his lips closed over yours.

He licked along your lower lip, nipping on it. The small gasp you let out allowed his tongue to slip past your lips, brushing against your own. When you arched your back, his hand slid under your top, kneading your hip.

“John,” you breathed against his lips, tugging on his shirt.

With you between his hard thighs, you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his shirt off. His muscles weren’t as defined as they once were, but the same strength under was evident in the way his chest and arms flexed. You wasted no time running your hands over him, from his happy trail, partly hidden under his low hanging waistband, up to the darker fuzz of his chest. His abdomen rippled under your soft touch, bulge forming in his sweats.

You palmed over the stretch of his back when he leaned in. There were raises you swore weren’t there last time. As you ran your fingertips over the scars, his lips didn’t relent against yours. Your tongues swirled between the nibbling and sucking. It surprised you how you were still in sync, not missing a beat despite the years.

He was still yours.

“Want you, John.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He helped you out of your clothes before himself. Kneeling before you, he parted your thighs and settled between them.

He exhaled, a rough hand trailed from your knee along your inner thigh. Your skin pulled as he squeezed the flesh at the thickest part, giving him a peek of your slick. He licked his lip.

His eyes flicked up to you, watching with an intense gaze as you bit your lip, chest rising and falling, your nipples at attention. He climbed over you, licking a stripe up your breast before his hot tongue flicked over your nipple, rolling the other between his fingers.

You ran a hair through his hair, clutching his roots. You hummed in pleasure when his mouth switched with his hand, teeth playfully grazing against your hardened nipple. Your back arched, yearning for more and more of him.

He sat back on his haunches, wet lips parted. Your hips bucked when his thumb swiped over your wet, needy clit. The motion continued as his fingertips trailed from your waist down to your knee. His eyes transfixed on you as you shut your eyes, your breath shallow.

You gave a small nod when his finger circled over your opening. He barely had to push before slipping right in. He curled his finger, building his pace as he leaned over, planting kisses across your chest up your neck and jaw before meeting your lips again. The noises filled the dim room.

Your hand ran down his side, to his fuzzy pelvis and heavy balls. Your fingertips traced along his length and he twitched when you got to his leaking tip. His breath hitched and you stroked his desperate cock, spreading the wetness all over him. You moaned into his mouth when he added another finger.

His pumped faster as he licked along your neck, his tongue grazing the cuff of your ear. Your arm slung over his neck, nails digging into his flexed bicep as he held his weight up, clinging onto him.

“Always so good for me, love,” he breathed, his warm breath making you shiver.

Your back arched to meet him, hips rolling. His long, thick fingers grew urgent, thumb rubbing your swollen clit. The squelching merged with the sounds of the wet kisses your neck.

The familiar pressure settled in your core. Your breathing quickened, your moans shallow as he relentlessly hit the right spot.

“John- ah- Don’t stop, John,” you whined.

“Wanna make you feel good.” He nipped at your lobe. “Let me hear you, love.”

You unravelled with a moan, your head thrown back. Your trembling thighs closed around him.

“That’s it. Such a good girl for me.” He sucked on your exposed throat as his pumping slowed down to deep, long strokes, stretching the rest of your high.

He lay on his side facing you, rubbing your thigh as you caught your breath. He sucked his fingers clean with a deep sigh, eyes closed.

“John,” you began when you realised. “I don’t have any condoms.”

You tasted yourself on him as he leaned over to kiss you, his cock still hard and wet against your thigh. “We don’t have to. It’s all you tonight.”

“Has there…” It was irrational but jealousy crept up. “Have you been w-“

“Never.” He shook his head. “No one else since you.”

You felt like crying. “Please,” you whispered against his lips, cupping his face. “Need you.”

He kissed you once more, kneading your hip up to your breast before crawling between your legs. His eyes lidded, breathing shallow like he was delirious. He stroked himself a few times, as if his aching cock wasn’t ready enough.

A hand on your waist, he rubbed himself along your glistening slit, biting his lip as he watched. His tip circled around your opening. “Ready, love?” His eyes met yours.

When you nodded, he eased the first inch in with a groan and you moaned with the delicious stretch. He held your gaze, taking his time pushing further and further before he stopped with a teasing smile.

“John,” you whined, legs hooking around him.

He lifted your hips off the mattress and slid his last inches into your sopping pussy. The sensation of him bottoming out in you always intoxicated you. Your breath caught as he grinded deep against you. Nothing had ever felt a good as him.

His grip tightened before his hips moved. He reached to rub your clit with the pad of his thumb, making you whimper. He always knew how tilt his hips the right way, to reach that deep and undo you. The way he fucked you, sometimes you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You fisted the pillow under your head, jaw slack. His eyes flicked to your tits as they bounced with each thrust.

“Fuck, it’s been forever,” he grunted.

He leaned onto his forearms to kiss you as his fingers laced with yours above your head. His body flush against yours, his breath warm. His scent carried a touch of smoke as always.

His thrusts were deep and languid, pulling out all the way until only the head of his thick cock remained before burying himself to the hilt again in smooth strokes. He fucked you into the mattress like he wanted you to remember every drag, ever curve of him. Only he could make you feel this way – nothing ever came close. It was your sentence for stealing his soul.

“Want to make you come again, love.”

You weren’t sure it was muscle memory, but the intensity of his gaze, the way he rocked against you and the way he surrounded you made the heat pool deep in your belly again.

He tilted your face away with his nose, allowing him access to suck on the base of your neck. The way you tightened around him was his que to pick up his pace. He pounded into you, his balls smacking against your ass. He groaned, his breath searing against your skin. Each thrust pushed a huff of breath out of you.

Your fingers squeezed his twice. He knew what it meant.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he panted against your ear. “Oh God, never leave me again, sweetheart.” His voice cracked.

His wet eyes bored down onto yours. You couldn’t help the tear that slipped.

“I promise, John. I promise I won’t.”

He lifted your waist, angling himself to reach even deeper. Your moans grew louder, your fingers tangled in his hair.

“Come for me,” he said with urgency. “Let me make you feel good, love.”

Your legs tightened around his waist as your second orgasm washed over you with another moan. He thrusted faster into your fluttering pussy, his breath heavy against your ear. He kissed you again, tongue dragging against yours.

In a swift motion, he pulled out and came on your stomach, grunting into your mouth. You reached down, milking the rest of him, his hot come ran between your fingers.

He peppered kisses all along your jaw as his breath evened out before cleaning you up. You wiped away his tears with your thumb, giving him a peck on the lips. With a groan, he lay on his back as he pulled you against him. He clasped his hand over yours, resting it in the middle of his chest, pressing kisses on your forehead.

“Love, can we have bath?” There was a tinge of embarrassment in his voice. “My joints hurt when it gets too cold sometimes.”

Your heart wrenched. He’d made you feel so good despite the pain. When he followed you off the bed, you shook your head.

Moments later, you led him to the hot bath you’d prepared. You knelt by the tub and as he hunched over his bent knees, you helped him wash his hair and body. In the light, the scars he’d acquired since were clear, but it wasn’t what caught your attention.

For your last anniversary, he got a tattoo of your favourite flower on his back. After an array of art, it was easy for one to be just another piece, but this... He never covered it up.

Your finger traced over it. “You’re beautiful, John.”

He let out a deep sigh.

His head tipped back against the tiles as he soaked. Your arms folded over the edge of the tub, your head resting on your forearm. With a soft smile and lidded eyes, he squeezed your hand twice.

The dark didn’t have to be endless tonight. Because there was going to be a tomorrow, next week, next month, next year.

You believed him this time.

@glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @shadofireshinobi @tiredmetalenthusiast @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @rainybubbles @erinfern0 @devcica @sacr3dm1lk @esthervalea @katz-chow @captainjamster @aethelwyneleigh27 @thatgoblin @rennroo

[roseharpermaxwell]

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs - Part Three

I'm back with more! Dive into some recently-read AUs with me below.

pixel perfect by rizcriz. G, 1k. Alex is looking over the directions with barely contained glee, and Henry—Henry’s looking at Alex. He’s pushed into the wall of the Photo Booth when Alex suddenly leans forward and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.

“We are so doing this,” Alex says excitedly.

The corner of Henry’s mouth twitches. “Oh?” He asks, watching Alex pull a ten dollar bill from his wallet. “And here I thought you’d only pulled us in here to make out a bit.”

Or, Alex and Henry are in love in a photo booth.

Total Eclipse by @myheartalivewrites. T, 1.2k. Alex is not sure what the fuck is happening here.

“And if you only hold me tight…”

A man—probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen—is up on stage in this karaoke bar, absolutely murdering Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart and he’s pretty sure the guy is crying and it’s one of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen and Alex cannot. Look. Away.

all we are is skin and bones by @indestructibleheart. T, 1.3k. Alex didn't plan to push Henry Fox into oncoming traffic.

it might be worth it for once by blueberriesandcream. G, 1.6k. quick little alternate scene. what if alex's protective streak had made an appearance when zahra found he and henry in their hotel room?

We've Got To Stop Meeting Like This by @everwitch-magiks. M, 1.9k. Alex books an Airbnb studio with a shared bathroom. The other studio is occupied by a man with lush pink lips and impressive personal hygiene — really, he’s super diligent about lathering and rinsing. Alex would know, seeing as the lock to the bathroom is seriously unreliable.

Or: the Airbnb romp you didn’t know you needed.

exclusive member deal by stutteringpeach. T, 2k.

Alex: "Let me take you on a date."

The date: Costco.

beyond measure by T, 2.1k. alex and henry host nora, june and pez for weekly fellow travelers watch parties.

tonight, they're watching the series finale. it comes crashing down on henry, and alex is there to catch him.

Couture of the Juicy Variety by ronans. G, 2.1k. It's Henry's birthday and his work crush has what some may call a wardrobe malfunction.

Adrift by TuppingLiberty. T, 2.2k. Alex works in the Texas Department of Justice as a research attorney. He's been low-key flirting with his downstairs neighbor Henry for the past few months. Unfortunately, he works himself sick and ends up at Henry's doorstep accidentally.

you all over me by @dumbpeachjuice. E, 2.3k. When Henry organises an evening of group sex, he never expects to meet a gorgeous man he wants to marry and have children with.

Or, a meet-cute at a sex club.

something more, something right by rizcriz. T, 2.7k. Alex blinks at him, seemingly entirely unimpressed. “So, you’re just going to pretend we’re not in love with each other?” 

Let the flickering flame of your soul play all about me. by barthelme. E, 2.8k. Around them, there is the rustle of trees and the crisp whip of wind against nylon. An owl hooting. Faint whispers of campers still lingering around the dying campfire that Henry would like to block out entirely because, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I’m aware,” Alex says, but his mouth clearly says he doesn’t care.

Or, the one where Alex and Henry are camp counselors who lead overnight hikes and fuck around at night.

please report to HR by @smc-27. G, 3.2k. Alex frowns at his inbox.

The only reason he knows Henry’s name is that people keep calling him “hot HR Henry” as if there’s anyone else in this office named Henry. Alex hasn’t met the guy yet. He’s been avoiding it mostly out of pettiness.

Henry and the Charisma Vortex by ronans. NR, 3.7k. ‘How’s about I take you to a bookstore and treat you to a trashy romance novel to say sorry for interrupting your first date with the love of your life?’

‘I fear the longer I spend time with you, the longer I will be unable to live this spectacular failure down.’

He warms at the thought of spending more time with Henry. ‘Solid deduction, you are absolutely right.’ He takes a punt and grabs Henry’s free hand. ‘C’mon.’

Or, Alex is sat next to a tragic date and has the urge to intervene.

A Sin Better Than Heaven by @anchoredarchangel. E, 3.9k.

“Show me,” the king says, a demand. He sets the vial back down, careless to where it lands compared to where it originated. He leans back against the table, crosses his arms over his chest; chin raised, jaw set- a picture of regality. Henry’s heart is pounding in his chest, the unstable beat of too many horse hooves overlapping, like the canter through the woods that very afternoon before he was shoved from his saddle. For the first time, he considers the possibility that perhaps he had hit his head harder than he realized- against the ground or against the tree, because certainly his hope is misplaced; certainly he is not following this conversation as well as he presumed. “Show you what, Your Majesty?” The king only deigns to move a hand, untucking it from his elbow in order to wave it vaguely. “How your body responds to men.”

Or: A criminally loose reimagining of the tent scene from Mary & George, only Alex is a sexually confused king, and Henry's the one who has been sent to seduce him.

Don’t You Dare Look Away by @emmalostinwonderland. E, 3.9k. “Jesus, Fox, if you wanna fuck me so goddamn bad, you could just say so.”

Alex fully expects to be dropped to the floor, but Henry just tightens his grip on Alex’s waist. “You… you’re not serious.”

And really, what could go wrong? “Serious as a heart attack, baby.”

// Alex and Henry are paired up for a pro dance on DWTS one week, but they just can’t seem to get along… until something clicks.

a feeling like this (could it be bliss?) by rizcriz. E, 4k. There’s a blonde woman plastered to Alex’s front. Ten minutes ago, he’d been grinding up against a brunette man half a foot shorter than him. Ten minutes before that, he’d been laughing with a red head at the bar. And ten minutes before that?

Ten minutes before that, he’d had that megawatt smile directed at Henry, laughing at something June said. And then he’d wandered off to get them more drinks, and now he’s off, giving his attention to people who are, quite frankly, not good enough for him, and Henry? Henry’s — christ, okay, Henry’s jealous.

Henry’s fucking fuming.

Or, Henry wants his boyfriend back.

Another Door Opens by @14carrotghoul. T, 4.1k. Henry takes a long drink. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad's dead. He and my mum had the type of love straight from the storybooks and it got cut tragically short, so what is the point in finding something real if it's just going to hurt you?”

Alex bites back a smile and shakes his head. “How in the fuck was that supposed to make me feel better?”

He waves his hand awkwardly. “Oh, I just thought we were both sharing the trauma that impacted our romantic relationships.”

Henry and Alex first meet when Henry reveals their partners are cheating on them with each other.

north star by sharkfins. T, 4.9k. “God, you know, I could stare at you all day,” he says finally. “I want to get this tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.”

“Ugh, gross,” Henry says while scrunching up his nose. Even still, his cheeks flush.

“Seriously, Hen, you look pretty.” Alex runs his fingers through Henry’s hair and places another kiss on his forehead.

Henry bites back a slightly embarrassing excited noise and shoves his face into Alex’s neck and smiles into his skin. Hen. Alex calls him that all the time, but for some reason now it’s making something stir inside his chest.

“I can’t believe I get to call you mine,” he adds, running his hand down the back of Henry’s head and settles his arm around his shoulders again.

Henry moves impossibly closer to him and looks up to meet his eyes. “Pretty, huh?”

“Absolutely gorgeous.”

or: Henry experiments with gender &lt;3

Best Practice in Sexual Favours by everwitch. E, 5.1k. They meet at a bar. Alex is young; fresh out of law school, sharp and charismatic and oh-so attractive. The sex is absolutely incredible, and Henry has no regrets. At least not until the morning after when he finds himself opposite Alex in a meeting — equipped with the painful knowledge that Alex’s boss thinks Alex’s only function in said meeting is to sit there and look all pretty. Somebody ought to call HR right about now.

Or: when sexual relationships mix with professional ones, Alex and Henry make the most of it.

We met in the Park by TuppingLiberty. E, 5.3k. Henry is absolutely obsessed with the runner he sees in the park every day at lunch.

cause you're classic, and i'm reckless by @firenati0n. T, 5.4k. “I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.”

At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.”

Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.”

“Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

Diving In Dick-First by quill_and_ink. E, 5.5k. "So... we're doing an intimate piercing today?"

Alex promptly crawls under a rock to die.

Trying My Patience (Try Pink Carnations) by @cha-melodius. E, 5.6k. Unfortunately for him, the only things more beautiful than Alex himself are Alex’s cakes. He’s the most in-demand cake artist in the city, and as such he books a lot of weddings. Many of the very same weddings that simply must also have Fox Florals arrangements for their centrepieces. Weddings like, apparently, this one.

(Or, Henry the florist and Alex the cake artist are forced to collaborate last minute at a wedding job, make a mess, and learn some things about each other in the process.)

A thousand dreams that would awake me by @kiwiana-writes. E, 5.9k.

“It’s not about punishment.” Alex just nods; Henry had been very clear on the form that he wasn’t looking to be dominated or put in his place, so that won’t be new information. “And it’s not the pain as such.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the mug. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like to feel it, but I’m not looking for pain for the sake of pain. It’s more about… control, I think.” There’s a long silence. “Taking it?” Alex prompts finally. “Or giving it up?” “Does it sound ridiculous if I say both?”

Or, Henry visits a sex club to get spanked the way he's craving.

Want Me by @orchidscript. E, 6.1k. Henry had always been weak for a nice smile, but his was impossible to ignore.

Blame it on summer heat and a fresh flush in his cheeks. Blame it on sunset painting the outdoor bar sweltering, romantic colors. Blame it on two healthy glasses of albariño thrumming in his bloodstream, or the good music floating on the air.

Henry could blame it on anything liked if he thought long and hard about it, but that didn’t change much at the end. The core remained the same: he had been gone from the jump.

Henry and Alex hook up on a vacation in Spain. Henry falls a bit deeper.

i think about jumping (just to see you come running) by @coffeecatsme. T, 6.1k. Henry Fox likes to think he’s led a good life.

He’s been a good son to his parents, though his grandmother would probably disagree with him being a good grandson—although, if he’s honest with himself, he’d rather take that as a compliment. He’s used the family money for good, built a life for himself. He’s saved the sweetest beagle from a shelter and paid an arm and a leg bringing him to the States from England. He doesn’t think killing a few mosquitos in his lifetime and the select words he had for the homophobic part of his family should curse him for years of torture.

Alas, that’s the only explanation as to why the public library he’s worked for for years would move him to a branch right next to a goddamn fire station.

Or, 5 times Henry embarrasses himself in front of Alex and 1 time Alex embarrasses himself in front of Henry.

Five letter word for 'unobservant' by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 6.9k. And podfic by @thirdeye1234. “He's so annoying,” Alex says, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them as he sits down at his desk opposite Nora. Nora – colleague, semi-sister-in-law, and unfortunately his best friend – is used to this by now, and continues eating a croissant over her keyboard in the manner of someone who has the only ergonomic, crumb-resistant keyboard in the office, and wants everyone to know it.

“Please,” she says, not even looking at him as she presumably whizzes through accounts or something, mouth full of buttery pastry. “Elucidate. I have no idea who you're talking about and there is no precedent for you interrupting my morning with those words at all.”

Alex scowls at her. “Wordle Guy.”

Cloudy With a Chance of Fuckery & Sunny With a Touch of Drama (Every Weather series)by @hillerskas. M, 6.9k. ‘Henry’s here with us for the weather.’ He pivots in his seat and grins over to the other corner of the studio. ‘Now, is it hot in here, or is it just you?’

Without missing a beat, Henry smiles cordially and gestures to the green screen behind him. ‘We’re actually in the middle of a cold snap.’

Or, an ode to Alex fucking with Henry live on air.

in this home series by riversdeep. T, 7.5k. At that, Alex looks him straight in the eye. “I'm sorry I fell in love with you years ago and never said a single thing about it.”

A self indulgent childhood best friends to lovers AU, exploring the transition from best friends to boyfriends

me and you and awkward silence by @kill8a. M, 7.5k. Alex has a bit of a predicament. The new librarian, Henry Fox, has proved to be a little too attractive to go un-noticed, and he might be harboring a bit of a crush.

make it five by @anincompletelist. M, 8k. “Fifty bucks says I can get that guy’s number.”

Popping the bubble of cinnamon-flavored gum Alex had just blown, he glances up from his phone to look at where Nora’s pointing. Just over the soles of his shoes, crossed at the ankles and propped on the flaking black wood of the shop’s front desk, there’s a man with broad shoulders lingering by the far wall. Alex hadn’t even heard the guy come in.

“Nora. He’s literally looking at one of the biggest dildos I’ve ever seen,” he deadpans quietly.

alex works at a sex toy shop. it's usually a pretty easy job — if he could just stop daydreaming about the blonde guy that keeps coming in to buy literally all of alex's favorite sex toys.

pour some sugar on me by @sunnysideprince. M, 8.2k. Alex makes not-so-safe-for-work baking videos on Instagram for a living, and Henry, unsurprisingly, goes through a crisis because of it.

An Amateur’s Guide to Professional Gift-Giving by anincompletelist (soldouthaz). T, 8.9k. Alex, a former-law-student-taking-some-time-off turned professional part-time gift giver, is tasked with finding a gift for the most high profile client he's ever worked with, both in and out of the world of law.

It turns out finding the perfect gift for the Prince of Wales might be easier than he'd anticipated.

secret admirer by rizcriz. T, 9.5k. Today, though, he’s watching in delight as a massive bouquet of roses makes its way through the office, the delivery guy carefully weaving between cubicles as he heads for Nora’s desk. Last week, Nora had revealed to the office one of his embarrassing college hook up stories that involved a thong and sitting cold and shivering in a police station while he waited to be picked up. Today—today he’s sicking Nadine and Alberta on Nora as payback.

His gaze flicks over to Nora where she’s sitting at her desk oblivious to her incoming doom, and then back to the delivery guy. Anticipation, hot and excited, bundles up in Alex’s gut as he clears the final turn of cubicles, and just as Alex is about to grin, wicked and delighted at Nora, the delivery guy makes another turns and comes to a stop at the completely wrong desk.

And then he sets the flowers down and leaves.

or, an accidental flower delivery.

my little dove by dearestalez. M, 9.8k.

“Kinda cliché,” Alex says, looking up at the mural.

“It’s Bea’s favourite piece,” Henry says.

Alex looks at him, “that makes sense.”

They travel through a plethora of shops. Henry picks up a hat, Alex holds a jumper to his chest and twirls until Henry is giggling into his fingers.

“Why do they never have my size?” Alex laments, holding a nice pair of shoes that don’t come in seven and a half. Only seven or eight. Henry doesn’t mean to laugh, he didn’t really think that was something he did. Laugh at people’s expense. But he isn’t doing that. Alex is pouting over a pair of shoes, with wide brown eyes and slumped shoulders, and Henry is laughing at the absurdity of it all.

He never thought that the man across the building cradling a beer to his chest was the type to pout and whine when a shop didn’t carry his size. He never thought he’d find that out. He never thought that stranger from that bar would turn into someone he knows.

“You’re a dick,” Alex says, but he’s grinning and Henry is weak.

i want to mark my skin (it is paper thin) by @violetbaudelaire-quagmire. M, 10k.

To: alex@biconicink.com

From: hjfox@rocketmail.co.uk

Subj: Tattoo Reference

Attached: 1 file (orionsketch.jpg)

Hello,

Attached you’ll find a line art drawing of the constellation Orion. The shoulder blade is the intended location.

Best,

H.J. Fox

OR: It's a Tattoo Shop AU!

i dream of our odyssey by violetbaudelairequagmire. E, 10k. Alex rests his elbows on the counter of the small cafe attached to Bankston’s Books, enjoying the quiet period in between the morning stay-at-home-mom-crying-toddler storytime crowd and the rush of college students that appear in the afternoon. It’s only a couple hours, but it’s nice to have that time with just a few black coffees in between the rush of “pumpkin spice latte and a cakepop” and “quad shot espressos and keep them coming” that dominate the busy periods at the bookstore. He’s not complaining though- he loves this job. He gets a discount on books, no one cares how much coffee he drinks in a shift, and, in the last couple of weeks, he’s had a great view of the new guy quietly shelving books.

A Tapestry of Intimacy Unfolded by hqwhna. M, 10k. It's a case of textbook serendipity when Senator Alex Claremont-Diaz and Dr. Henry Fox first meet at a fundraiser in D.C. Now, Alex just has to think of an excuse to see him again...

no drug like me by stutteringpeach. E, 10k. “I’d like to pay for your schooling,” Henry says casually. “Move you into a better apartment. You’ll get an allowance, of course, but that will be for you to do with what you will. Your expenses will be covered outside of that.”

Alex blinks. He’s drunk off expensive wine and Henry’s attention. His brain isn’t functioning. “What?”

Henry’s expression hasn’t changed. “Do you need me to repeat myself?”

XOXO Gossip Girl by alyaasca. T, 11k. Diazes love gossiping. And Henry, well, he wants to be a part of Alex's family. Thanks to his therapist, he has a number of breathing exercises up his sleeve, and also a dream. Watch him take his rightful place by learning the art of family gossip.

i don't know how not to by smc_27. M, 11k. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he tells Martha in their next meeting, which takes place two hours outside of London at her parents’ ‘cottage’. To think they talk of her family as commoners when they have this much money is fucking insane. It just goes to illustrate how out of touch the whole monarchy machine is.

“Tea?” she offers, and he nods just to be polite. A literal, honest to god butler comes over to pour for him. “Carry on.”

“You’re gonna disappear,” he tells her, and her whole face lights up. Her shoulders relax. She looks straight at him. He can hear the kids playing with their grandmother in the next room.

“Tell me more.”

Or, Alex is Martha's divorce attorney

cut by @havanasroses. E, 12k.

Holy fucking eyelashes. He’s all tan skin and bright eyes and charming smile— everything that makes Henry weak in the knees. Pretty brown eyes dart between the lineup and his clipboard, trying to put two and two together, but all Henry can focus on are those arms. Those hands. That arse. “Can I call you up, handsome?” Henry almost blacks out.

or, the five times alex and henry shoot a video together as (not so) strangers, and the one time they do as a couple.

into temptation by stutteringpeach. E, 13k. When Henry wakes, there’s an ache in his arse and a wet patch on the sheets.

He tries to imagine how it happened. Whether he was on his side or his front already, whether he had to be rolled over. Whether they took their time or couldn’t wait, so turned on by the sight of him lying there.

It shouldn’t turn him on this much—the not knowing. But that was the point.

You've Been My Muse for a Long Time by @affectionatelyrs. E, 13k. There aren’t many instances in which Henry would claim he exhibits a colorful vocabulary. In fact, he could likely list them on one hand: when wretched people say the most bigoted things, when the local grocer has run out of their Jaffa Cake stock in the minuscule international aisle, when he gets bored and resorts to writing homoerotic poetry in his moleskin journal with a fountain pen like some lovelorn literary scholar from the eighteenth century.

And now, when he’s assigned to a gig he doesn’t want to be at. As in, he would rather publish said poetry to the unrelenting, merciless masses of the internet than be at this gig.

“You must be bloody fucking kidding me.”

Or, When Rolling Stone names Alex Claremont-Diaz as the number one rising star to look out for, Henry is tasked with the sole responsibility of photographing him for their cover shot. Which, truly, wouldn’t be an issue—it’s an incredible opportunity—except Henry doesn’t trust that miscreant to be within ten feet of him ever since The Incident™

Star-Crossed by schmulte. T, 17k. Alex is a principal ballerino with a hatred for Henry Fox. What happens when they're paired up and forced to dance together as star-crossed lovers? Will their partnership crash and burn, or will they cross uncharted territory and make ballet history?

Not An Act by quill_and_ink. E, 20k. It was bound to happen at some point. Alex and Henry had both started modeling within three months of each other and they'd both become known for dramatic, high fashion shoots, editorials, and runways, so it had just been a matter of time before they would be hired to work together. He could have handled it if they'd just been on the same set at the same time without actually having to shoot together, but no - the premise of the campaign is sensuality, intimacy. He has to pretend to be in love with Henry.

getting good now by Standinginmoonlight. M, 20k. Alex sighs and balls his hands up into fists, digging them into his eye sockets until he sees stars, and then he’s speaking without his brain giving his mouth permission.

“I can’t believe I’m going to marry someone British.”

Or: the Love is Blind AU that no-one asked for.

we should get married by smc_27. E, 25k. He’d spent most of the week sitting on the floor with his laptop open on the table, typing away about absolute nonsense in between sessions and phone calls with immigration and a lawyer trying to see if it’s possible there’s any way in the world he can stay in America while this gets sorted. The good news is this doesn’t bar him from trying again and just returning when it all gets sorted. Not that that will be easy, but still. It’s a possibility.

He makes the absolutely foolish mistake, after pouring his second drink, of googling ‘marriage visa’ as if that will be the answer to any or all of his problems. Allows himself a brief, excruciating moment to imagine he has someone to marry and make that a reality.

But then…he does, does he not?

OR, a greencard marriage AU

Clean Slate by smc_27. E, 25k. “Henry.” Pez comes over, puts both hands on Henry’s cheeks and looks him dead in the eye. “You are not a sad man who’s gotten dumped. You’re in the prime of your life, and I quite desperately need you to act like it.”

“The prime of my life,” Henry scoffs, more incredulous than questioning. “I’ve just gotten out of a 15 year relationship, endured a divorce, am suffering an almost impressive case of writer’s block, and your hands are like bloody icicles.” Pez grins, doesn’t take his hands away. “Explain to me how this is my prime. Please.”

Pez tilts his head, and sounds entirely serious when he says, “Literally anything can happen from here.”

In Accord by @absoluteaudacitywrites. E, 27k. Pursuant to the establishment of an ongoing relationship between The Crown and the Office of the President of the United States, the representatives of the The Queen and Her interests are authorised to establish a contract of marriage between His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales and Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

Claremont 2008 by @happinessofthepursuit. M, 28k. What if Ellen Claremont had gotten elected in 2008 instead of Obama? An alternate timeline story of FirstPrince.

2009 at Buckingham Palace for tea. A sleepover after a quinceañera in 2010. The 2012 London Olympics. A 2014 Model UN Conference. A funeral in 2015. College and another campaign trail.

And the texts, facetimes, and chain emails in between.

By All Means, Rome by @iboatedhere. T, 29k. During a goodwill tour of Europe, Prince Henry rebels against his tedious schedule and disappears into the heart of Rome, seeking reprieve from a life of relentless royal obligations...

Alex Claremont-Diaz, an American journalist living in Rome with a British Monarchy-sized chip on his shoulder, stumbles upon a young man…

Each man keeps a secret to benefit themselves, not thinking how it would affect the other until love gets in the way.

seven fallen angels in atonemеnt by riversdeep. E, 31k. Bea takes the diary from him and snaps it shut. "Well, love, that's because I'm meeting Alex. We'll be at the studio in an hour, so if you're coming with, you should probably wear some nicer trousers."

Henry looks down at his shorts. He thinks they belonged to Pez at one point since they have the words juicy written over the arse in fancy script. "That," He says, "Is completely beside the point."

She shrugs, "Alright. If you want to see the man you've crushed on for two years in those shorts, be my guest."

Well. That only covers part of the problem. The part where Alex infuriates him, that he has to put in an unreasonable amount of effort not to drop things around him because of how beautiful he is. That he is, admittedly, a little bit in love with him.

Or, Alex is a singer collaborating with Bea and Henry is dragged along for the ride, much to his reluctant delight.

would you be my love, my love? (would you be mine?) by ohprongs. M, 32k. When Henry Fox’s fourth series as a professional dancer on BBC’s Strictly Come Dancing rolls around, he’s got a good feeling. He knows what he’s doing — he’s a two-time semi-finalist — and this year he wants to win. That is, until he’s knocked off-kilter by two revelations: they’re allowing same gender contestant/pro pairings for the first time in the show’s history, and Alex Claremont-Díaz is joining as the newest pro dancer.

He is, to put it mildly, absolutely screwed.

(aka, the pro dancers rivals-to-friends-to-lovers au that no one asked for)

Baby (Let Me Put On a Show) by SatinBirds. E, 37k. It’s been five months, and still Alex is never completely prepared for Henry’s performances. Private or otherwise.

Or,

Henry is a night dancer, and he’s everything Alex wants.

Platinum Record series by @cricketnationrise. E, 39k. Email: austincamz@gmail.com

Channel Name: AustinBoy

Age Restricted?: 18+

Chat enabled?: Yes

Subscriptions: Monthly

Tiers: 2

Tier 1:

> Name: Standard

> Description: Access to chat room, 1 weekly video

Tier 2:

> Name: Bonus

> Description: Access to chat room, 1 weekly video, 1 weekly livestream

Or, a Camboy!Alex AU 

A Cloud on Fire Makes its Own Rain by foux_dogue. M, 40k. Henry ends his relationship with Alex in Texas at twenty-one years old.

At forty, Alex's heartbreak is just another relic from the past that he left behind. He's made a name for himself, steadily dismantling the system that never truly welcomed him from the foxhole of a critically-acclaimed late night news show. He's not living his happily-ever-after, maybe, but he's doing work that matters, and he's content with what he's got.

At forty-one, Henry finally decides to abdicate. There's only one person who he trusts to break the story.

February, I'm In Love by IBoatedHere. E, 40k. February themed FirstPrince Prompts

(you got me) cursing the daylight by @waterloolovers. E, 40k.

But if you like causing trouble up in hotel rooms

And if you like having secret little rendezvous

If you like to do the things you know that we shouldn't do

Then baby, I'm perfect

Baby, I'm perfect for you

“ALEX CLAREMONT-DIAZ TAKES ON EUROPE!

America’s darling, ACD, is setting off on his first international tour of Europe and The UK next month. His first stop is in London at the sold out O2 arena.”

Alex is a singer. Henry is a podcast host. They should know that secret relationships don’t usually pan out, but they’re willing to give it a try.

What could possibly go wrong?

(Strangers to friends to besties to lovers)

It's Nice to Have a Friend by mainstreamelectricalparade. T, 59k. Two boys meet on a beach, build a sand castle, write letters, and fall in love.

Someday We'll Know If Love Can Move a Mountain by @three-drink-amy. E, 60k. The emails were never leaked, but the Queen has forced Alex and Henry apart. Alex believes they're biding their time until they can be together for real. One day at work, he's forced to confront how wrong he is when Henry's engagement is announced. With both of them miserable and neither wanting the wedding to happen, they grapple with how or if they could even stop it. Or even if they should.

False Dichotomy by chamel. E, 61k. One of the world’s largest retailers is opening a store on his street. A bookstore. He looks down at the article in his hand again and catches sight of a phrase: “We hope that people will see this as more than a bookstore, and hope to foster a sense of community.” As if Henry Fox-Mountchristen has any concept of what community means.

Alex very narrowly does not break something.

(When global mega-retailer Mountchristen opens a new location—led by the infuriatingly attractive and insufferable Henry Fox-Mountchristen—near his LGBTQ-focused bookshop in Soho, Alex's comfortable life is turned upsided down. Luckily, he has one of his best friends to turn to: a guy he met online and knows only as H. Meanwhile, Henry is battling against his family to make a positive difference in the world and falling further in love with a man he's never met. But... what if they changed that?

(make me) misbehave by @onward--upward. E, 65k. Alex Claremont-Diaz has done it again. The Texas-born singer-songwriter released his fourth studio album second skin Thursday at midnight. Full of Claremont-Diaz’s signature lyricism, critics are praising the album for the cohesive image it paints. second skin is the result of a young writer at the top of his game, and every lyric depicts for the listener a picture of a sun-drenched secret romance. Fans are clamoring to be the first to uncover the mystery girl at the center of it all, although Claremont-Diaz remains tight-lipped on the subject…

Or: Alex Claremont-Diaz is a singer-songwriter rising up in the music industry. Henry Fox is the shining star of an acting empire.

This is a love story.

All our Sweetest Hours Fly Fastest by @ahistoricdistraction. T, 69k. It has been three years since they were outted and Henry and Alex have finally settled into a groove that works well for them, except for the fact that it feels like they're always having to steal time together. Queen Mary constantly coming up with excuses to get Henry out of public events with Alex isn't helping, and Alex is done with it. After a long conference in Tokyo that Henry couldn't attend, Alex's flight home being delayed is the last straw and he calls Henry to say they need to figure out a better way to do this, to which Henry agrees. But fate has other ideas. Alex's flight goes missing somewhere over the Pacific, no trace of it to be found, leaving Henry and Alex's family struggling to not lose hope while unable to do anything.

Such a Burden, This Flame on My Chest by allmylovesatonce. E, 76k. Alex Claremont-Diaz is relocating back to Austin to join his dad's firehouse. His days as a firefighter in Washington D.C. ended badly, but no one knows that, or knows why. And he plans to keep that close to his chest. He has to shove it back down if he wants to seem like a normal person, if he wants to do the job, if he wants to get along with his new crew, and most of all, if he wants to get to know the hot British firefighter on the squad.

No one can know what really happened.

It takes a lot to know a man by dazedandconfused. E, 86k. Alex is doing good. Life is good. Work is good. There's just one tiny problem. He can't get out of his head enough to enjoy sex. Nora has a solution in the form of a not-quite-sex-club called Sweet Encounters where he meets Henry, an attentive dom who shows him the joys of BDSM and sex with a man.

Alex gets a new problem when he starts falling for the man, and it turns out Henry might know more about the case Alex is working on than he lets on.

And then it all stacks up from there.

Heavy Weighs the Crown series by @dwell-the-brave. M, 88k. “I’ll be back by Thursday,” Philip promises, giving Martha a hand up the jet’s steps. She gives them a brief wave from the top of the stairs before disappearing.

“Make sure you don’t ski off a cliff!” Bea calls after him as he follows his wife into the jet. He waves a hand dismissively at her and then withdraws into the darkness of the cabin.

That’s the last thing any of them say to him.

Philip dies, and Henry becomes heir.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by anincompletelist. E, 116k. When June gets engaged, Alex, her brother, and Henry, her best friend, are asked to be the official Guys Of Honor. There’s a month to plan the whole thing, which would be near impossible anyway, only made worse by the fact that being around each other the last several years has only ever led to petty fights and useless competition. Unfortunately, as the two most important men in her life - aside from her fiancé - they don’t really have much of a choice.

Alex has a lot of feelings about this. As it turns out, Henry does too.

Trust Your Heart If The Seas Catch Fire by Light_of_Bane. E, 171k.

Alex had a plan.

And then his life got thrown upside down after finding out President Claremont is his mother.

Now his plan is shot to hell and he's stuck navigating a world he never expected to be in - one of privilege and the spotlight and a family that's far cry from the abusive one he had grown up with. How's he supposed to do this?

And why is Prince Henry so much prettier in person?

This was not the plan.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs Part One

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs Part Two

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

[theamazingdigitalraceway]

Just read the latest chapter and I must say I do believe everyone deserves a break, and by that I mean why not just let them relax like if they were all actors. Maybe have Abel be what he wants from the 4th wall ask so there isn't any tension, it's just a fun non-canon event to wind down.

BREATHER

A RACEWAY AU ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

"CUT!! Good job everyone, that's a wrap for today." The Author closed her notes for episode 13 of The Amazing Digital Raceway TV series.

As the set crew turned on the overhead lights to start cleaning, Seth tossed his newly lit cigarette and coughed. "Ugh...how much longer am I going to have to pretend to like these things?"

Pomni unzipped her tracksuit to the waist, took off the top half and tied the sleeves around her waist. The tracksuits were hot under the stage lights, so she was much more comfortable in her black tank top underneath. "You know you don't actually have to smoke those, right? They'll edit it in post."

"I'm a method actor. I can't work with this unless it's actually lit."

"...then don't inhale. Really, this is a you problem."

"meh, meh, meh. Shut up." He grabbed her jester hat and shoved it down over her eyes.

"Reeeeal professional." Caine walked up, still covered in electrical burn makeup. "You staying in character or something?" He handed a bottle of water to Pomni.

"Like I said, method." Seth dug around in his pockets for items to give back to the prop department. As he searched, a phone rang in his pants pocket.

Pomni gaped. "You had a cellphone on you the whole time!? AND IT WAS ON!? You could have ruined the scene!"

Seth took out his modern flip phone, ignoring Pomni, and answered it with a smile. "Hey, baby. Yeah, just finished up." He started walking away, paying no mind to Pomni or Caine. "Have you heard back from the Author about your audition? Yeah, I told her if she needed me to have a love interest, I would prefer it be you."

Pomni rolled her eyes. "I can't believe that's guy's your brother."

Caine raised an eyebrow. "He's not."

"But he looks just like you."

"I know, but we never knew each other before the casting call. Wild coincidence." Caine finished his water. "I was wondering...after we finish up here, would you like to join me for drinks? I know this really nice pub."

Pomni smirked. "Now who's method acting?"

Caine chuckled, blushing under his makeup. "Nah...no acting. Just, I think... I don't know...I've felt some chemistry here. I'd be very interested in getting to know you outside of work."

Pomni smiled sincerely. "I'd like that."

~

Gummigoo grunted as the makeup assistant took out the bright blue contacts that covered his whole eye. "These bloody things are awful." There was some relief with the eye wash, but not as much as he'd like.

"Sorry you have to deal with that." Abel said as he glanced over the script draft for the next episode. "But it looks like you're going to be wearing them for a while. Uh, good news, you're getting a costume change at least. Says here you wear a black tracksuit. Don't know why the Author waited an entire episode for the wardrobe change. Seems like an afterthought. I would've changed the moment I reincarnated."

Gummigoo shrugged. "Maybe the Author is taking details like that slower. I mean, think about it. You've supposedly been stuck in the walls for 15 or so years and you jump into the mainframe head first. Did you expect to know how to do things from the inside right away? Your character has never done that before. He doesn't know how to be 'god'."

"eh....I guess you're right." Abel tucked the script under his arm and saw Ragatha walking by with Jax. "Oh hey, you two alright? That was some intense stunt work today."

"I'm fine, dear. Don't you worry. Jax, however is-" Ragatha was cut off by Jax hurling into the barf bag. "...not doing so good."

Jax groaned, "The world is spinning in the wrong direction."

"And you said you could do your own stunts." Ragatha patted Jax on the back. "I'm taking you to the on-site medic for some help. You need to sit down. See you later Abel, Gummigoo." She waved to her co-stars and escorted Jax away.

"Crikey, I'd hate to be him right now." Gummigoo shook his head.

"Yeah...so, anyway, I also wanted to ask: HOW have you been able to hide your Australian accent the entire time you're me? You sound so different." Abel wondered.

Gummigoo laughed. "Lots of practice and American movies."

~

Kinger was a little sore from today. The crashes were a bit more intense than originally intended. But, without complaint, he made his way to wardrobe to change, where he came across Loo. "Oh, hello, Loo. Did you have fun today?"

Loo pouted, "No...I didn't even have a line this episode. I feel like I've been on the story less and less. My character feels so...useless."

Kinger sat next to her. "We don't know what's coming next. I'm sure the Author will figure something out. She's one of the most passionate directors I've ever worked with, and I've been doing this for a long time."

Loo sniffed and wiped her face. "I think she should just kill off my character and let me go home. I'm not needed here."

"Hey," Kinger said gently, taking her hand. "Yes, you are. Every character is important, even the background ones. They flesh out the story and give the audience different perspectives on character struggles throughout the plot."

"What about Bubble? They left after episode 12, and I haven't seen them-"

"Bubble's on hiatus. They had to be written out for a bit. Nothing to do with how useful they are. Don't compare your performance to the others. The sooner you stop doing that, the better off you'll be in this industry."

"...okay..."

"You're young, beautiful, talented and hard working. You'll go far, I just know it." Kinger gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Thanks." Loo wasn't fully convinced, but she was grateful Kinger was trying.

~

"What do you mean you haven't heard back!?" Gangle screeched angrily into her phone at her agent. "I am a Shakespearean trained actor! I have a repertoire longer than all these other actors combined!! Well, maybe not Kinger, BUT STILL!! How have you come up with nothing!? You have 48 hours to find me a new offer or you're FIRED!!"

Gangle almost threw her phone. She couldn't believe it. Years of training and child acting and this backwater TV show was all she had for work. She could do SO much better than this. She DESERVED better than this.

She dialed a new number with tears in her eyes. "...mom? The agent you got me is useless! I'm still stuck with the TV show! I-...yes, it's popular or whatever, BUT I'M NOT THE MAIN STAR! I auditioned for the lead role and I got side-charactered! It's not fair!!" Gangle whined and cried, pulling the bow out of her hair in frustration.

~

Zooble was about to leave for the day, but was flagged down by the Author. "Hey, what's up?"

"A lot, Zooble." The Author sighed. "I need to touch base with you about your role in the next episode. Have you seen makeup and wardrobe about-"

"Oh, yeah, I have. They got the latex molds done. My new look should be done by time you're ready to film my scenes."

"Excellent. Best news I've heard all week."

"You look like you could use a drink." Zooble half joked.

"I really could, but I can't. I have too many projects that require my attention. My producers for Unseen are breathing down my neck for the next script. Not to mention co-witing for the Time Capsule and Harlequin shows. Sometimes I have time for spinoff scripts. Those are fun." The Author runs her hand through her hair.

"Wow. Maybe you're taking on too many projects at once? Take a break. Have a drink."

"....maybe. Once I get-" The Author's phone rang. "Excuse me." She stepped away and answered. "Hello?"

A smooth male voice came though. "I read the script. The answer's yes."

The Author could dance in place. "That's wonderful! I'll have the other drafts sent your way. Thank you for calling me yourself. Your agent was rather uppity about letting me even offer the role to you."

The man chuckled lightly. "He's a card. No, I like this a lot. You can count me in. In fact, I'd very much like to discuss my role in person. Are you available tonight?"

The Author almost dropped her stuff. "I am now."

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love chapter 10

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter eleven ♥ summary: husk has some news that confirms one of your worries, oh how you hate having your worries confirmed. ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (now purely romance) ♥ word count: 3.3k ♥ pinterest board ' it has outfit inspo in it now ♥ notes: reader sits on alastor's lap, i'm a bowtie hater, drunk and sad reader

You depart your room after redoing his ascot, and then you both go separate ways. A pair of cockroaches scuttle under your feet, practically running in circles. You stop and watch them. It's as if they're dancing. Their thick bodies rock back and forth against the speed of their tiny legs, and they move so fast that they appear to be vibrating.

To not disturb them, you take a big step forward, lifting your dress and passing them with the politeness of a princess. When you release your puffed dress layers, a gust of air brushes past them. You hope they have a good rest of their day.

The hotel's maze-like habitat has been long memorized; you're used to the desolate hallways, so when somebody grabs your arm, a hand much smaller than Alastor's, your eyes darken when you turn around.

Husk grips onto you with a touch so light it's comparable to a child. He's touching you; has he ever done that? You fight the urge to grimace, the overlord in you clouding your friendliness. He's a friend, he's a friend, he's a friend.

"Can I talk to you?" He slowly withdraws his hand. You look him up and down. When you turn to face him fully, his ears bend back. Nervousness. Fear? No, possibly just pure anxiety.

"It's early Husker, at least fix me a drink first."

He is tentative when he leads you to the elevator. Therefore, he doesn't even look at you when the numbers on the elevator light up and the doors open. All the doors appear the same to you—dark red and under stripped chandeliers. He didn't hold the door for you when he opened the entrance to his room, filled with the pungent smell of sweat and felines. The sun barely penetrated his closed curtains.

"The extermination is in a few weeks," he turns to you. "What are you going to do?"

Your eyebrows raise. You're not going to fight. You never have and never planned on it. The realization of Husk's question hits you quicker than you'd like. You've never second-doubted your decision to leave, but you hum when Husk makes the opposing suggestion. Would Alastor let you go? Does the demon cherish you enough to ensure your safety, or is he curious enough to force you to battle?

"You don't think he'd let me flee, do you?" You ask, hiding the dread growing in your stomach.

He shakes his head. "I don't think he's ever intended to."

"Before," you start, picturing him at the bar and you sitting before him, "You said to me he told you I was coming."

"After Charlie brought up the extermination."

"I thought so," you lied. How many hidden plans did Alastor have? Many. Many.

After finding the abandoned, discreet home amongst the trees, you stayed there throughout every massacre. Angels never bothered you, never even knew you were there. You would remove your speaker, turn the lights off, and wait for it to end. If you looked out your window, you only saw the portal in the sky. In the end, there was a trace of those winged entities that you've been exposed to every year, but you've never thought about what the battle must look like. You step past Husk, sitting on his stiff bed.

"There's a war ahead," Husk signs. "Are you ready for it?"

You look around his room. A heavily worn deck of cards is on his desk, and button-ups are visible in an open wardrobe. Despite your growing nervousness, you try to hold your pose.

"Tell me," you start, ignoring his question. "Yes, somewhere deep in my heart I've considered it, so I know you're the one to tell me the truth. Was he always intending me to fight against the angels?"

At his hesitance, you continue, "To sacrifice me? To see how long I'd last?"

He wouldn't lie to you; with this, he knows the truth is not the easiest thing for you to get. "I ain't gonna claim to know what goes on in Alastor's head... but I do know that when he mentioned you, it wasn't for any good reason. Alastor doesn't do things out of the kindness of his heart."

"I'm more than aware." With the sick pounding of your heart, you focus your energy on maintaining eye contact. "But what do you think? What do you believe?"

He can see the uncertainty in your eyes. He takes a deep breath, standing awkwardly. "Listen, kid." Kid. How rude. "We both know he's a cunning bastard, and I wouldn't put it past him to use even you for... whatever reason he has in mind."

"Might have he changed his mind?"

Once you have sign it, you realize how pathetic you must be.

"Changed his mind? Hell, it's Alastor we're talking about. But for you... I've seen him change his mind as often as he changes his socks. Still, be cautious."

You almost frog-blink. Be cautious? With him? You've spent years being cautious around him enough to trust his hands with your life. But those years away, those cursed years, must have changed him. He would have never done this before then.

You square your shoulders, tilting your head up, robotically signing. "What do you suppose I do about it?"

Oh, how do you wish Zestial had a cellphone. Is it time for another visit? You should tell Alastor he had asked you to come over and never return. That ancient soul will protect you from anything the deer has planned for you.

"If you're able to, figure out what his angle is." Immediately, Husk turns to his desk, opens a drawer, and pulls out an unopened bottle of Buchanan's. "Do you want some?"

"Yes. What a pleasing offer."

"I don't have glasses, so here. It's a gift."

You stand to pull it from him when he offers it.

"A parting one?"

"No," he shakes his head with a furrow of his brows. Your joke does not entertain him. "Don't even think about it."

.

Exiting his room, you are greeted by the fresh smell of what you assume is a usual hotel. Your gaze goes from the ceiling to the elevator ahead. What choice do you have? You wander down, steps slow, treasuring the moment of isolation. There's one plan in mind to play on his affection for you. He must have changed his mind even a little bit. This romantic development is unique to him, that's for sure. It could mean that he decided to do anything but risk your demise. Or possibly not; it could have led him to anticipate your fight even more. The thought of him swooping in to save you from harm is more than charming, unknown.

But angels are different than demons. You can handle your own against one of your kind; it's undeniable that angels could destroy you in a second.

If romance doesn't work, what else do you have? What do you have against him?

You claw at your palm, the other hand still gripping the bottle.

What are his weaknesses? What do you have against the Radio Demon?

Your mind flickers through the years you've spent together. He's never never appeared sad-

No, he has.

Alastor's ears droop when he talks about his mother, when reminisces about their time together when he was alive. But what could that mean for you?

Mother, mother, mother.

A hum leaves your lips. You could play on that, for sure. And it could be unfair, but he started it. Stepping into the elevator, you slowly develop a plan. What are some motherly actions? Reading to him, rubbing his head, gentle touches and lullabies? Could you find a way to play music like that? If it means your life, you'll find a way.

As you step towards the top of the staircase, you look down at the people below. Angel is texting on the couch; Nifty is scurrying and stabbing holes into the carpet.

The angel in the shape of a woman walks across the lobby, noticing your figure before anybody else and looking at you. The stoic look on her face doesn't falter, but she does mutter something, eyes flickering away.

Every day you fight the urge to regard these residents with contempt.

Just a few weeks ago, Alastor came to speak with you about the hotel. You've now started considering his offer as blabbering, but he convinced you nonetheless; you decided to be annoyed he hadn't come by sooner. He had smiled to you and signed; it only hits you now that he remembered the language even after over half a decade of absence.

The bar looks desolate without Husk behind the barrier. 'Congierge', as if he'd partake in that. You run your hand across the structure, placing the bottle down. When you sit, you can only stare at the bronze shelves as you use your nails to pop the drink open. You hold the sour-smelling bottle to your lips, spinning on the stool, eyes dazing over in thought.

Where would you even begin? You should find a way to feed him just as he had fed you, as if he'd let you. But that's the fun of this, isn't it? Seeing what he'll let you do. It's like a masked adventure. You've driven him to sensitivity while he's driving you to sadism. You smile at the thought.

You drink until the bottle is around half empty and push the opened bottle over the counter without being bothered by its loud clattering. Whether it is shattered or not doesn't even cross your mind as you lift yourself, turning to the side before your body does. Alastor isn't here. You expected him to grab you. An empty lobby greets you. Angel is nowhere to be seen, and the only sign that Nifty is even there is the ragged floor.

You grunt. It's not an uncommon circumstance for you. With the flickering of the lights, the isolation quickly becomes charming. The hotel is comforting when so barren. The flavorless sting in your throat clouds every bit of saliva you swallow down. You stumble when the wooden floor turns into carpet—stumble, what are you, 16? Considerably ridiculous. You hold your breath when you step up the stairs. Nothing is worse to you than apparent intoxication, which the V's entertained many decades ago. Valentino would hold your waist and dance; you'd follow his slow footsteps. Velvette must still have the videos. You think about that as you step up the stairs. What you noticed most about the V tower was the posters of themselves they hung up. It's like your living world, where wealthy families hang paintings of themselves over fireplaces. But theirs are marginally less affluent and infinitely more self-absorbed. Though, who are you to talk? Vox gifted you a poster of your own, although an inappropriately funny one (bright red lipstick, kissy marks framing your body, loved wineglass in your hand). Where is it now? A part of you wishes more than anything you can say hello to them again, but alliances are alliances, and enemies are enemies.

Your music traditionally plays familiar sounds that can be repetitive when you lack severe emotions, and with the wooziness of intoxication, the only noticeable difference is glissandos.

Alastor's room seems miles away. There are times when, as impending as the doom can be, you open the door to his absence and get the clue of fear. You wonder if it'll get on his last nerve each time you let yourself in. It doesn't stop you. As you've said before, he'd never hurt you. And as he retorted, "physically."

The rest of the walk proceeded slowly, painfully so. With every step, your brain stood on edge as you grew accustomed to Alastor's sudden appearance. But his presence isn't haunting the hallways. Thankfully, mercifully, his doorknob opens with ease. He often locks it, but Lord knows your hair pins pry it open as easy as slipping in earrings.

Despite the intrusion, you open the door slowly. Alastor sits at his desk, the lamp off but light still illuminating his stacks of papers, the ones hanging from the skeleton on his wall.

He doesn't glance over at you, but his smile does grow, and he drops his pen. You kick your shoes off and close the door behind you.

What now, what now, what now, what now?

You start to chew on the inside of your mouth but stop. There needs to be no sign of nervousness.

When you wrap your arms around his neck, he tilts his head, leaning into you. The side of his head nuzzles into your bicep. Your other hand brushes against a fabric, cotton, not silk. He took the ascot off. A hum leaves you. He kept everything else except the ascot, replacing it with a bowtie. He kisses your sleeve and then grabs your wrist, moving your hand to brush his lips against your knuckles.

His eyes follow you when you lower from his grasp. Pressing one hip against the desk, you swoop his bangs from his face and press a kiss to his forehead, a soft one, a hand cradling his face. With your body this close, he can smell the drunkness. When you try to place another kiss, he tilts his head up; you stop, your eyes meeting each other at an equal level.

You can see your reflection in his monocle.

You sign. "It was the ascot, wasn't it?"

"Oh, my dear, I loved the ascot. Truly, I did! Just thought it didn't suit me."

The banter is familiar, so easy to fall into.

"I quite liked the boys who wore them," you sign, smiling at how his smile tightens; you kiss the corner of his lips, pulling back with an opposite, warm smile. "But I suppose the bow tie is a close second, though they're entirely past my time."

All he knows from your time is museum pieces and infamous paintings.

What you love most about these conversations is how you can distinctly notice when Alastor searches through his memory. His usually stable iris will flicker back and forth just slightly. He shifts his weight, using his foot against the wall to push back his seat. He grabs both your hands with him, leading you into his lap. Your dress cascades down the side as you sit horizontally across his thighs.

"Ah, really now? Perhaps I'll have to wear ascots more often then, just for you, darling." He signs, completely dishonest, the teasing not going past your head.

To someone your age, his outfit is only a few trends before contemporary fashion like Velvette's. From the coat that holds his body to the bowtie he keeps around his neck, what others consider outdated is your modern. And in comparison, you look like a figure of class and an entirely ancient elegance.

"Would you actually?" Your sly smile and signs portray a preppy expression. "I might have to keep you to that."

"You're threatening me." He jokes, a hand reaching to grip your waist as he quickly bounce his heels, boosting your body upwards in one motion. His light tone is a response to your intoxication. You laugh, realizing in a second that you've long forgotten your intent at motherly behavior. You're draped across his lap and giggling like a girl. Holding a mature composure is complicated when he's holding you like this. The idea of The Radio Demon cooing at you leaves you completely vulnerable. And for a deadly, terrifying overlord yourself, he finds you thoroughly adorable.

You tilt your head. "You're the one who offered it, are you not a man of your word?"

He takes a second to admire your expression. Never in his afterlife had he thought that he would end up like this, lovestruck and affectionate. He can barely respond; the sight of him before him is entrancing. Here are two overlords, dangerous and vile, holding each other kindly. The words of your comical conversation dance together like cockroaches.

"Of course I am, my dear. Of course I am."

"Then perhaps we can venture outside together while you wear what you consider the non-suiting ascot."

"Are you simply trying to get me to put it back on? I believe I made it clear that any ascot-"

"Tomorrow, what do you think?" You grab his hands and put them down. Your previous despair toward him is gone, replaced by the adoration you've developed.

His smile drops just a bit, and his eyes widen at the smallest amount. Beyond being willing to merely stroll in public, your wanting to do it by his side brings back decades of memories. Oh, how he's missed watching the citizens avoid the two of you, pointing out his favorite restaurants, and going inside with you. "You want to be seen in public again?"

"I do, I think you should show me around. I want to see what the world has been up to since I've been gone. Since we've been gone. Let's go explore, yes?" Your eyes investigate his expression, trying to decipher if it's hesitance or surprise.

He studies you back. He gives a soft smile, his facade returning as he nods. "It certainly sounds like a lovely idea, dear."

You lift a finger, straightening your spine. "The ascot will be included though." Your other hand rests on his shoulder, a small gesture of approval, a gentle touch.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm starting to think you only want me to wear an ascot, darling!"

"Perhaps, or perhaps not. Who's to say?" You grab one of his hands, put it to your cheek, and rest your head on it. Your smirk comes subconsciously; you hardly notice how loving you're being. He lets out a huff through his nose, letting his thumb brush over the soft skin.

His other hand lifts. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

You hum. "I wonder who I learnt it from."

With a slight turn of your head, you kiss his gloved palm. With strangely unfamiliar softness on his features, you can only match his jesting tone.

"Me?" He laughs in mock surprise, hand twitching as you kiss it. "How dare you, my dearest! I am a bastion of courtesy. Maybe you've become a sassy thing all on your own."

"Sassy? You think I'm sassy? You dare say that, you?" You pipe up. Your eyes widen slightly, and your smile only grows. You kiss his hand again, this time a quick peck, but your lips remain close as you sign. "You're the sassiest man I've ever met."

He gently presses his claws against your cheekbone as he responds. He could taunt you all day and never get tired of it. "You wound me with your words, you're practically bursting with cheeky wit."

"Yes, I am. But tomorrow, yes?" You rewind, sitting up off his lap, releasing his hand.

He gives a slight nod. "Tomorrow, my love! I'll retrieve you sometime in the afternoon, how does that sound? We can start exploring the city."

"Oh, how I adore you more than anything." You lean and softly kiss his cheek. Once you lift, his eyes lock on yours with his usual stare, his strict smile locked onto his face. Your mind wanders to his wretched intentions, forcing you into battle to test your life. It's sobering. You continue, trying not to give away your souring mood, focusing on the good things so your music remains golden. "Thank you for everything, Alastor."

He sits rigid, once again caught off guard by your affection. His thoughts are still momentarily, processing the feeling of your lips on his face. He is thankful you hadn't kissed his lips, despite how much he would've wanted it. It's kind of you to remember his indecision toward direct physical tenderness without his initiation. The kiss on the cheek is a welcomed middle ground, not too overwhelming nor emotionally far away.

"Of course, darling. You're very welcome."

When you step away, one of his hands returns to his desk, signaling an ending conversation. So you give him a small, mostly sarcastic bow, turning to your room to plan your outfit for tomorrow. A day dress, indeed. Should you go lace? That would be funny.

[fallenwhumpee]

Promise

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Masterlist •

Warnings: Medieval settings, blood, battlefield, dissociation.

"We are not taking that mission!" Healer shouted to Leader, their head stretched back to stare at Leader. "We don't take missions in villages. And this won't be an exception."

"Like it or not," Leader towered over them, putting a hand to their chest to stop them from getting closer. "We don't have any choice in that. We can't abandon our lands to the enemy. We will fight."

Leader watched as the anger got more intense in Healer's eyes.

"You will send us to slaughter! You know we don't do well in the missions involving civilians. The team..."

"No one will visit you after this." Leader cut sharply. "I promise. I won't let my team pull their usual stunts."

"You can't just stop them from taking a blow for some random stranger."

"Have more faith in me. When did I get us into something we can't handle?" Leader tried again. They needed Healer to see their point.

Healer looked at them for one more moment before sighing and averting their eyes. "But I'm not patching anyone after this."

"That's the spirit. Now pack up. We're leaving with the lunch."

Healer nodded, leaving Leader alone. Leader made their way to their room in the guild's barracks. They closed the door behind them slowly, letting their shoulders drop.

"I don't know what should I do," they admitted to the haunting heaviness hovering over them. A moment later, the familiar bone deep feeling of loneliness washed over them, and they had to lean on their desk to stay standing as their strength drained from their body for a moment.

"I can't  keep going on like this." They muttered to themselves  after it. This was getting beyond their control.

Stopping their thoughts to save their sanity, straightening their stance slowly. They walked over their wardrobe and pulled out a large shield, their sword and armour. They couldn't help but stare at them for a moment before starting to get dressed. The armour over their skin was the only thing that made them feel secure in those days. The only thing they felt like they belonged to.

Not their team.

Despite loving them dearly - and being loved back - Leader was not a part of the team. They were the sword and the shield between them and the enemy, but not a part of it. It was just according to the regulations. Leader couldn't afford to be among the people they were sworn to protect. It never ended well.

Slowly pulling the straps and locking the metal pieces into each other, Leader abandoned thinking altogether. A moment of peace was needed, and they found it relaxing just to do something and not think. They only left their helmet out, putting their long sword to its sheath on their back, placing the very large shield over it. Making sure it's secure, they packed two set of clothes and some water. They were ready to depart.

But their eyes lingered in the big room, checking it for a last time. Their bed was tidy, so the other... They averted their eyes. They forgot nothing. There was no need to torment themselves more.

Stepping out of the suffocating room, Leader felt heaviness linger over them for one more second, but they smiled when they saw their team and ignored the feeling.

"We are ready to depart." Right Hand walked a step forward. "Briefed about the mission. The place looks good for defence. I don't understand why they need reinforcements there."

"They need replacements. And I've heard it's nearing the end. The enemy is giving up. Just need some more pushing."

Leader walked past the team after glancing at everyone, the smile on their face not faltering despite the emptiness pulling their mouth down. They got into their house with one move, the shield messing with their balance a little. It was vast, even for Leader. They had never understood how...

No. Leader wasn't hoping to think about them. Leader had to keep their head there and then. They simply turned to the horizon and rode the horse.

"The battle will be already going on when we arrive," Leader said after they covered a significant distance. "I want you to stay close and work as one unit. You will just hold the defence until another order, either from the general leading the battle or from me. I need you to fight as long as you can, in the other words, do not try something idiotic because none of you will be useful if you're dead."

That gained some chuckles but also nods. Good. Leader needed them to stay alive and well. They made a promise, after all.

The rest of the ride was silent on Leader's part, listening to their comrades and keeping an eye on everything. They only slowed down once they reached the narrow gate, the last lights of sun already departed, leaving them in dark. The battle sounds began to give Leader goosebumps. They felt their heartbeat match with the distant clatter of metal and shouts, their hand instinctively reaching their sword.

The team hid the horses, getting ready to dive into the battle. Without a word, Leader drew their sword, the weight of it familiar in their grip. They blew out a breath and scanned the scene before them. Their focus shifted to their team.

"Stay close," they felt the need to warn.

Without further orders, the team advanced. The disgusting smell of blood-soaked soil once again filled their lungs, the ground beneath them shook. There was nothing, nothing that could distract them from doing what was right. They would not attack, never attack, but they also wouldn't hold back their sword raised to protect.

When Leader's blade met the enemy's for the first time, their focus was absolute, every movement precise and calculated. The clash of metal, the cries of the soldiers, and the roar of battle filled the air, a chaotic symphony that set their heart racing. They moved with a single-minded purpose, their sword an extension of their will, their body.

When their body caught up with their mind, they shifted their focus. Their limbs moved with the will to survive, while they could finally take off their mind from... all of that.

Their eyes found their team, which was holding themselves very well without any help. But Leader could see the telltale signs. Very few civilians were left on battlefield, but their team was already making a safe circle for them, but not as careful as Leader would like.

Still, Leader trusted their team. They trusted and went on, avenging their sword with swift motions. Their one eye was still on their team, and they could see the enemy finding more and more openings.

It was the last straw when they saw Teammate nearly dropped their sword under pressure.

"I hate doing your job," they muttered to the air, taking out their shield. They gripped the shield tightly, their focus shifting entirely to the task at hand. With practised precision, they positioned themselves between their team and the enemy, using the shield to deflect blows and create openings for counterattacks.

Blow after blow made Leader falter, their arms getting heavier from carrying the large shield with one and their heavy sword with the other. Still, they kept their footing as the shield absorbed blow after blow.

When the shield was slammed to their chest by another shield, Leader's breath were knocked out of their lungs, a crack sound lost in the loud clash of two sturdy metal. Leader gasped and relieved the pressure by stepping aside, the motion causing them to lose balance but gain some space. They swung their sword, managing to get under the armour of the enemy general— but also being the victim of the same move.

Their shoulder was stinging, the pain sharp and fresh and distracting, but Leader knew they couldn't afford that. They lunged forward, ignoring the strain they put to their shoulder as the pain only became another chaos in the background.

If it was in more friendlier terms, Leader could enjoy the fight with someone even to their strength, but on the battlefield, it only meant danger. A threat to get rid of. As Leader's sword clashed against their opponent's, their focus narrowed. They couldn't afford to be distracted against such opponent. With swift and calculated movements, they parried and struck, each blow getting harder to maintain.

Despite the burning pain in their shoulder, Leader pressed on, their movements fueled by adrenaline and the instinct to survive. With a final, decisive strike, they brought down their opponent, the clash of metal not banging in their ears for the first time as their sword cut the flesh.

With a weary sigh, Leader glanced around at the scene of the battlefield. The enemy forces were retreating, and the villagers were slowly emerging from their hiding places, cautiously reclaiming their homes. Their team, though battered and worn, stood strong beside Leader, thankfully without any injuries. Years of practised efficiency guiding them, they set up a small camp for their remaining, prioritizing the healing tents and such before finally setting up one for themselves.

Leader slid in without being noticed, a small basin of hot water on their hands. They didn't want to join the celebration outside when they felt so dirty after the battle, and they didn't have the strength to do so. Placing the basin next to their makeshift bed, they took of their armour, pain throbbing with their every move. They ripped the thicker set clothes they brought with them, soaking them with hot water and slowly but tightly wrapping their shoulder. They then wore the other set, hiding the handmade bandages. They didn't look terrible, at least.

Taking the remaining fabric, Leader begun cleaning their armour, the simple and repetitive motion calming their breaths and relaxing their muscles. While tending to their armor for what felt like an eternity, Leader's thoughts were empty, as if the cloth and water could wash away all of their problems. They set aside the cloth foe a moment before they took the shield, the metal gleaming faintly in the dim light of the small gas lamp, the blood over it turning to a dark coloir. They sighed heavily, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling.

They could wash their armour, their sword sloppily, but they could never think of doing that to the shield. Not their shield, the shield, that once belonged to Leader's dear friend, Caretaker. Leader smiled at the imaginary of Caretaker freaking over the possibility of their shield getting Rusty, but Leader's smile soon turned bitter. Caretaker would be freaking out, only if they had been alive...

Just as they were about to pick the cloth again, a voice broke through the silence of the tent.

"Leader?"

Leader glanced up to see Healer standing at the entrance, their expression a mix of concern and hesitation.

"Yes?" Leader replied, their voice as flat as ever.

Healer stepped inside, their eyes scanning Leader's weary form. "I... I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have questioned your judgment earlier. I understand now that you were doing what you thought was best for everyone, and I should've teusted you not to pick up a mission that may compromise the team. You were right on your promise. No one from our team visited me tonight."

Leader stated Healer for a moment, progressing the words. "It's alright," they assured. "I'm just glad that this ended well."

Healer nodded, smiling with relief. "I also wanted to invite you to join the celebrations outside. The villagers are grateful for our help, and they want to thank us."

Leader shook their head slowly. "I appreciate the invitation, but I think I'll pass.."

Healer's expression fell slightly, but they nodded understandingly. "I... Okay... Just know that you're always welcome if you change your mind."

"Thank you," Leader smiled softly. I'll keep that in mind."

With a final nod, Healer left the tent, leaving Leader alone with their thoughts once again. With not much left to do, Leader cleaned the shield while listening yo the celebrations and ignoring their thought before curling up into their bed, the lively chatter outside serving as the lullaby to defend Leader's mind feom nightmarish memories.

[shikonstar]

Here’s a snippet from The Fixer. I posted a bit from this story here, and this scene comes soon (but not directly) after that one.

Professional relationship guru and relationship fixer Kagome Higurashi is at the peak of her game, but everything threatens to come crashing down when she runs into an old flame. What’s worse than setting up the love of your life with someone else?

Having to do it twice.

@heynikkiyousofine @elkonigin @mustardyellowsunshine @lavendertwilight89 @hahaalaine @ruddcatha @liz8080 @kawaiichan67

Inuyasha paused in the entryway, surprised by the interior. From the outside, the building appeared to be a large warehouse, but inside it was more like an upscale department store. There were clothes and accessories everywhere, and his nose scrunched at the mixed scents of makeup and hair products that hung in the air. Kagome didn’t bat an eye and instead strolled in like this was a second home.

“Jakotsu! I need you to work your magic!” She called out, craning her neck to see if she had missed him behind any of the displays.

“Kagome! My light, my treasure—please tell me you’ve come to relieve my boredom!”

Inuyasha hung back, watching as Kagome trotted forward to meet a man scurrying from the back room. He was slim but well-muscled, his crimped hair tossed up in a calculatedly messy bun. He wore a loose lavender linen jacket with the sleeves rolled up to display his forearms. On the right was a delicate tattoo of a cherry blossom branch, although Inuyasha’s keen eyesight picked up the droplets of blood sprinkled throughout the flowers.��

Kagome exchanged air kisses with Jakotsu, allowing his excitable energy to dispel some of her low mood. “We’ve got a job—this one will be a difficult sell, so I’ll need you to pull out all the stops.”

“Oh, honey, you know I love a challenge!” Jakotsu laughed before catching sight of Inuyasha over Kagome’s shoulder. “Oooooh, it looks like this is going to be a delicious assignment,” he crooned, his smokey eyes dragging up and down the hanyou’s form. 

Inuyasha shot Kagome a helpless glance as Jakotsu glided up to him and took his hand. “Hello, gorgeous. The pleasure is all mine, but I might be willing to send some your way with the proper motivation.”

“What, I—waitaminute—” Inuyasha spluttered, flushing a deep red. He had never been comfortable with people coming onto him.

“Down, boy,” Kagome teased, snapping her fingers at Jakotsu to get his attention. “This is a client, so let’s pretend to be professional.”

Jakotsu cast a critical eye over Inuyasha, looking for the catch. Finding none, he turned his attention back to Kagome. “He’s having trouble getting attention? Is the woman dead?” 

Kagome had spotted several outfits on a nearby rack that seemed to call to her, but she steeled herself to ignore them. They were nothing like the wardrobe she would have to wear for the foreseeable future, so she might as well not even bother. With a small pout, she tried to focus on what Jakotsu was saying.

“It’s....complicated,” she said evasively, not really wanting to explain the whole situation with Inuyasha standing there--his ears were pricked forward in a way she knew meant he wouldn't miss any detail. “Just start pulling together a type 3, with occasional warm accents.”

Distaste curdled Jakotsu’s face. “Ugh. Not my favorite way to style you, but I suppose you know what you’re doing. Do you have time to start on your hair? It’s grown out a bit since last time,” he asked her, getting down to business. 

“Yeah, just something basic for today--I don't plan on going back out. And can you pull an outfit? I’d like to wear one home to start getting the feel for it. The last job was more casual.”

Jakotsu was already rifling through the racks and gave her a wave that was both acknowledgment and dismissal. 

“Let me get you to fill out some paperwork while you wait,” Kagome said to Inuyasha, who had been staring at them both like they were speaking in an unfamiliar language. 

“What kind of paperwork?” He asked as he followed her to a desk in a tucked-away nook. “Wasn't the payment all you needed?”

Reaching into the middle drawer, Kagome pulled out a small stack of papers that had been stapled together. “This will help me do my job more effectively. Just fill out the questions referring to Kikyo--I still remember all of your information,” she told him, keeping her voice cheerful as she shoved the papers and a pen in his direction. “How’s it going over there, Jakotsu?” Kagome called, ignoring how her heart clenched at Inuyasha’s puppylike expression.

Keep it together. This is just a job.

“I think I--hold on, let me check this,” Jakotsu said from behind one of the counters, pulling his phone out of his slacks. 

“Uh, Kagome? I don't think I’m gonna be able to answer about half of these,” Inuyasha muttered, skimming through the pages.

She gave a short huff of exasperation. “How long did you two date? Good grief, Inuyasha! Just answer as best as you can--if I have to do some online stalking later, I will.”

Jakotsu, who had been smiling down at his phone, suddenly began to frown--an expression that became darker at the same pace as his eyes following the words that rapidly appeared on the screen. By the time he was done, he was practically radiating a negative aura.

He looked up, a sharp smile cutting across his face. “That was Sango. She had a veeeeerry interesting story to tell. Care to guess what it was about?”

Kagome’s spine stiffened, but she didn't dare glance at Inuyasha, who had come to stand close behind her at Jakotsu’s tone.

“It’s not a big deal. You know how she can exaggerate.”

“Oh, no, Boss Lady. This is a very, very big deal,” Jakotsu said, the softness of his voice in no way matching his eyes. “And we’re going to have a long, long talk about this later. I’m not going to sit back and watch you end up like--”

“It’s not going to be like that!” Kagome cut in, jerking her eyes to the side to let Jakotsu know that now was not the time. “I promise. Look, we can discuss this at our Tuesday brunch, okay?”

For several long, tense moments, the room was silent. Inuyasha had no idea what was going on or how a guy in a lavender suit and teal eyeliner could scream yakuza, but he was poised to fling himself into the situation if things went sideways. Why the hell did Kagome have a guy like this working for her?

After having worked with her for so long, Jakotsu knew exactly how stubborn Kagome could be. He agreed with Sango; this was a bad fucking idea. Like, tequila on an empty stomach after a devastating breakup level of bad. Unfortunately, he didn't think Kagome was going to be able to puke this out of her system. He couldn't stop her from doing this, but he would be watching. Watching very closely. 

He had been such a good boy....it would be a shame if he were forced to revert back to his old, wicked ways. 

“Fine. We can bitch about it over mimosas,” he said with a half smile. “Now, come on, I need to see if I’m going to have to make any alterations to this dress.”

Although she knew she wasn't off the hook completely, she was relieved that Jakotsu was at least going to keep his mouth shut while Inuyasha was around. Which was good because a quick look told her that he was starting to think of Jakotsu as a threat to her and was getting into what she referred to as his Classic Alpha Protective pose. 

Which she considered utterly unfair and damned misleading, but at least this time, she knew better than to read anything into it. 

“Go ahead and finish that up--there’s a couch where you can wait,” she said, grabbing her purse and heading back to the changing room.

Jakotsu paused at the concerned expression that flitted over the hanyou’s face, and he didn't miss the way his hand had reached for Kagome’s shoulder as she turned away, only to let it fall to his side. Hm. If he hadn't gotten that text, he would think.....he made a few mental calculations and came to a very interesting conclusion, one that he would keep to himself for the time being. He turned to follow Kagome.

Mama was right. The hot and stupid ones are too much damn trouble.

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

#Interview

"How Eddie Redmayne became one of the best dressed men in Hollywood - GQ Australia"

https://www.gq.com.au/style/celebrity/eddie-redmayne/image-gallery/b6b6dbe9bfb05ae6deae82e38867cedd

Eddie Redmayne may not have won a major acting gong this past awards season, but he more than ruled the red carpet.

In the past few months, there have been quite the few turnouts for the actor courtesy of his creepy portrayal of serial killer Charlie Cullen in The Good Nurse, the chilling true story of how he murdered dozens of people by administering lethal doses of insulin.

Nominated for best supporting actor at the BAFTAs, Golden Globes, and SAG Awards (not to mention the appearances Redmayne made at multiple film festivals and premieres), it gave the Brit ample opportunity to flex his fashion like never before.

His looks included a daring Maison Margiela Haute Couture suit, black Alexander McQueen jumpsuit (which the 41—year—old wore sans shirt), chocolate brown Valentino suit with matching silk rosette and one unforgettable white Saint Laurent blouse with an oversized bow high on the neckline. 

The man behind Redmayne’s transformation is Harry Lambert, the celebrity stylist responsible for the sartorial success of Harry Styles, Emma Corrin and Josh O’Connor. In London recently for the launch of Omega’s Aqua Terra Shades collection, Redmayne—a long—time Omega ambassador—revealed that Lambert keeps his roster of talent to a select few and it was only after seeing him perform as the Emcee in the 2021 West End production of Cabaret (for which he earned a Laurence Olivier Award) that his interest was piqued.

As for Redmayne, with two young children, a press tour and awards season, he was simply happy to have some assistance in the styling department after managing it himself in past years.

We sat down with the actor, to discuss the newfound theatricality to his dressing, his enduring love of watches and all things classic, plus why the new Omega Aqua Terra shades have a unique significance for not only his wardrobe—but his eyesight.

GQ Australia: Let’s talk about your red carpet looks this award season under your new stylist. How did this transition come about from the traditional Eddie Redmayne in a tuxedo to the more fashion-forward Eddie Redmayne? 

Eddie Redmayne: “One of the wonders of our job is playing dress up. One of the reasons you get into acting when you’re a kid is transforming and the theatre of it, I suppose. And I’ve always been riveted by fashion … for all the years styling myself, you get to meet designers and see the brilliance of what they do quite up close and personal. And I always enjoyed doing that and I enjoyed being playful with it, but [now] I have two children, I had a big press tour for The Good Nurse and I didn’t have enough time to go and organise myself, but also I was beginning to go, ‘I want to enjoy the theatre of it and I want to get a new set of eyes on that.’ And I’d seen Harry Lambert, who’s my stylist, who worked with Josh O’Connor, who is one of my favourite actors and Emma Corrin, and the work that he had done with them, I saw as so intriguing. There was a classicism to it, it was playful, so I asked Harry if he’d be up for it and he was.”

You starred in Cabaret in London’s West End in 2021. How did you enjoy that experience of being back on the stage?

“It was a passion project of mine. And interestingly, I think the reason that Harry Lambert, who couldn’t have been more busy, was up for working with me. His books were closed, but fortunately he’d seen and enjoyed Cabaret. 

That period, it was so intense. It was almost monastic I think, because it was incredibly physical and vocally, you can’t go out, you can’t go to a restaurant, you have to sleep in [and given] I had two young children, my wife was taking the burden. It was incredibly rigorous... It felt like a marathon in some ways, but it was also the most thrilling experience in my life.

This was a production that was very intimate and we did it straight out after the embers of the pandemic, the end of it and you felt this need for people, whether it was the actors or the audience, to have interaction and that level of intimacy and it was astonishing to be a part of.”

You’ve been an ambassador with Omega for eight years. How do the watches fit in with your new style?  

“It’s been quite effortless really, in the sense that I will choose what to wear. And I’m lucky that there is such a variety within what Omega does, that there’s always something that seems to sing with what you’re wearing.”

Have you always worn watches? What’s your relationship like with them? 

“I have always been a watch man. My dad had an Omega De Ville—very beautiful, very classic and he is an elegant man and it was very much a treasured thing.

So when I started wearing watches, that was what I was aspiring to I suppose. But one of the joys I’ve found with Omega is that there is so much storytelling. They have such a ripe history and one of the things about going [to Switzerland] with them is seeing the intricacy of the craftsmanship involved in telling these stories.”

Do you pick a watch to suit your outfit or the other way around? 

“So the big elephant in the room is that I’m colourblind. But it’s called red-green colourblind [and] it just means you confuse colours. I see fully in colour, but probably how I see colours differs from how you see it. But it has meant in the past—and it’s one of the reasons having Hannah as my wife is very influential—is that I have an amount of shoes and outfits that are quite a nice colour, [but] they end up being a complete catastrophe, or clashing unexpectedly.

What I love about the Aqua Terra, firstly, I love the simple classicism, the shape of it. But I love that the colours give it a vibrancy. That means you can wear something quite classic and it will do the talking for you. So particularly some of the colours how I see them, particularly the Terracotta colour, they’re unique, they’re not that obvious. They do punch a bit and so I probably wear something pretty simple and let the watch do the talking.”

Are you the sort of person who runs early or runs late?

“I mean, my wife runs very late. We got married at a place where I knew where she was getting changed and the church was just here because I knew that she would be late. And after 40 minutes, everyone was looking at me nervously being like, "Is she going to come? I’m very nervous, this is expected." So I’m depressingly early. I quite like getting places early in order to be able to sit, relax, like at the theatre, to enjoy the moment. I love having time to enjoy, to indulge in nothingness.”

In terms of the sizing of watches, what’s your take on that?

“I think it's all proportionate. And I've always been someone … I don't, despite my best efforts to go to the gym, have massive forearms. I'm not sure I can pull off the Daniel Craig number. And so I've always preferred the proportion of scaled watches and it's one of the reasons I love this new Aqua Terra range. It instantly felt like a good fit. But interestingly, my wife loves wearing the men's watches. She loves wearing them as a piece of jewellery, like a bangle almost.”

You've mentioned Daniel Craig. Omega has this long history and relationship with Bond. You’ve said previously that you love watching it but you’d hate to play it. Is that still true?

“Yeah. You don't want to butcher your favourite things, they're your heroes … I'd much rather go and watch an actor that I admire. It is slightly like meeting your heroes, don't. I always think with... you know what your boundaries are. And I love James Bond, but I'd much rather watch someone else.”

Your next big project is The Day of the Jackal. It’s been a long time since you were part of a project for TV. Why the change?

“Like most of us, I'm an addict to long full television and the intricacy and the depth of having these characters that you sit with for weeks on end. Since doing Cabaret and The Good Nurse, I had a very thrilling year making those two things, they were both really inspiring projects and really galvanised my love for what I do. And so I was waiting to see what it would be that would really inspire me and these scripts came along. They're written by a brilliant man called Ronan Bennett. As each episode I read, I was desperate to read the next. They were thrilling. I loved the original film and I love the book. And yet they felt so up to date and deeply compelling and quite emotional. So as far as going back to television, it felt entirely the right format for the right story. We don't start shooting for a wee bit. But in the prep of it, I'm hoping it will be something super special.”

---

[undisclosedmemoirs]

Reborn Rich ending

I WAS SO CONFUSED. WHAT. THE. HELL. MY BRAIN WAS A MESS 10 MINS IN.

Spoilers ahead

Oh but i am satisfied with it. Other than the fact the Hyun Woo and Do Jun have the same face I think they wraped it up well albeit it being a bit rushed in my opinion.

The whole body switch thing.... I will not question it because i think it was somewhat explained. It was guilt and repentance. For what both of them did to eachother, in a sense. DJ's secretary having a meltdown after all that trauma broke my heart but also left me confused because of the whole "they have the same face issue". Again, I will not question that part and stay with the notion that they had different appearences, but they could have show that to the viewers like they did in Moon Lovers for instance right at the begining of the show, or in some other smart way, idk.

I always suspected Young Ki, ever since his mother ordered the first accident. I thought he would definitely try to use that to get DJ out out of the way, and indeed he did unfortunately. What I did not see coming was him using his own son as a shield and making it seem like it was him all along, leaving Sung Jun no other choice but to give up his management rights. Smart move but it makes me wonder if he did that because Sung Jun confronted him or if he was always planning to use his son to get away with something like this when the time came. Sad to think that instead of learning not to do to his son what his father did to him, he just went and copied entirely. Which is what he was programmed to do his whole life: learn what his father did and how he did it to succeed the company.

I am mad that he died painlessly in a hospital bed tho. That is in no way the punishment he deserved after ordering someone's murder and living like a freaking king for 20 years thanks to it. Also, the rest of the family members just stepping down like that felt rushed, but i guess after having two of the familly members being prosecuted for murder and attempted murder (one of them dies in the meantime) they didn't really have a choice. Let's leave it at that.

I am glad we finally got Seo Min Young with a bit more of a central role in this episode. I do wish we at least got that more in the last few episodes but it is what it is. In the end she is alone, but i am happy that she got the answers she needed and can finally stop mourning and start living. Who knows, maybe in the future she and HW can be a thing and be happy together but that was not the point of the show.

As for HW. Finally he can live like a human being and work at the very same company he created as DJ, doing what he loves. Everything comes full circle. I found it odd that he was not charged with being an accomplice to murder, but maybe it could be proved that he had no idea he was there for that. I will also let that pass because I like seeing my man happy.

A big thank you to the wardrobe department finally giving Song Joong Ki some fitted clothes because holy shit did he look like a whole five course meal this episode.

I am happy with this ending and it really is in my top 10 kdrama list. The fact that they used business, finance and korean history (as well as world history) to tell this story is fascinating to me because they made it in a way that would captivate us viewers even if most of us would likely not understand what was going on in those bits. They kept it simple and interesting enough to keep us coming for more and could it easily have been boring if it was not welll done.

Song Joong Ki truly never misses and the man acted his ass off for this, take a bow sir. All the actors were fenomenal and it was a pleasure to watch them give life to each of their characters as well. However, in all honesty, the top actor spot for this drama is Lee Sung Min. The aura that man gave off and his whole performance is something else entirely and I am glad I got to witness it.

[adreamuponthestars]

Chapter 4

A peaceful walk.

It was a new day, and Kanako was spending it out. She decided it would be a nice change of pace to walk around town compared to staying holed up in the Port Mafia all day. She let out a happy sigh as she walked down the streets, making her way to a nearby high-end clothing store. It was one of the only places where the directions were easily memorable for Kanako, so she frequented it often.

The doorbell rang as Kanako entered the store, she looked around and was greeted by the clerk, “Welcome back, Kanako!”

She waved politely, “It's good to see you. I’m just looking around, I’m not sure if I’ll buy anything.” She prefaced before walking around.

“You haven’t bought anything in a while. Was that ginger guy you had around your wallet or something?” He teased her. Kanako rolled her eyes,

“Oh no. If I had it my way he wouldn’t have paid for anything I wanted. But he insisted.” She chuckled as she looked at one dress. It was a simple deep cut blue dress, and the fabric felt rather nice against her fingertips, “Pretty…” She whispered to herself as she checked the price tag, “…Not that pretty.” She dropped it as she saw the price at $250.

Kanako looked up at some of the different options, but she was drawn to some of the things she had already bought. “If that was $250, what was this jacket…?” Kanako flipped the tag, “$200-?!” She looked at the tag for a dress she wore commonly with that jacket, “500?!”

“What, did you not know any of this before buying it?” The clerk chuckled. She shook her head,

“N-No, Chuuya always hid the tags from me…” She blushed a bit, “He’s spent so much on this shop alone! What the…?” She pulled out her phone and checked the time, but she realised it was too late in America for Chuuya to pick up. She sighed,

“Sounds like that guy’s pretty devoted, huh? If he’s willing to spend that much on stuff I’ve never seen you wear.”

Kanako huffed, “I do wear them, just…only when he’s around!”

The clerk’s mouth dropped, “Only when he’s around? So you’re treating this shop as a private wardrobe for him and he’s paying for all that? If he’s not in love with you I will sell him this shop for free!” He laughed.

“In love with me? W-Why would he be in love with me?!” She stared down at the ground with a flushed face, “I hope that’s not true, I don’t want to upset him because I…”

The guy’s eyes widened, “Oh don’t tell me you don’t feel the same!”

“I-It’s complicated, alright? A lot has happened between us, and although how I feel about him currently in that department isn’t his fault…” She let out a shaky breath before shaking her head, “N-Nevermind.” She turned her attention back towards a dress behind her. It was a sleeveless and sparkly black dress that would fully cover her chest, and had a flowy skirt.

“That’s pretty…”

“I’m sure a certain somebody you aren’t in love with would appreciate it~ probably not as much as if you wore something…less.”

Kanako clenched the fabric of the dress as she tried to ground herself from the comment that the voice made, “Shut up.”

She ran the fabric between her thumb and index finger for a bit before looking back at the clerk, “I think I’ll buy this.”

He moved his head to look behind her and at the dress, as she was standing in front of it. He let out a low whistle, “You sure? That’ll cost you a pretty penny.”

She glanced outside, her eyes landing on the streets filled with people as she took the dress off of its hanger and placed it on the counter, “I’m sure.”

The guy glanced at the price tag, “You seriously willing to pay $700 for a dress?”

“If you’re gonna question anyone who tries to buy from your store, maybe you should lower the prices.” She glared a bit. He sighed and waved his hand at her,

“Fine, fine. Be that way.” He rang her up and gave her the total, to which she reached into her purse,

“I’m paying with cash.”

“Cash?!” He gawked as she pulled out a wad of cash and set it down on the counter, “Wait huh?” He lifted it and counted the money, “Hey, this is way more than-“

“Keep the change.” She grabbed a bag and put the dress in it before walking out of the store. On her way out, she scribbled something down on a sticker and stuck it to the bag.

“What is up with this lady…?” He questioned.

After about a minute, Kanako came back into the store, “Give me the hair tie.”

“What??”

Kanako looked at the counter and snatched the hair tie that the money was being kept together in, and she used it to put her hair up, “Have a good day, sir.” She walked back out of the store.

The man blinked a few times before sighing and going back to counting the cash, “She’s a strange one.”

Her feet carried her through the streets as she looked down at the concrete below her. Her thoughts were racing as she recalled what the shopkeeper had said to her, “If he’s not in love with you I will sell him this shop for free!”

The idea of Chuuya being in love with her seemed completely out of the question—Kanako was his bodyguard, she worked for him. It’s not like when they were teenagers and equals, now there was a power imbalance. Not to mention what she had to do for work, no way she’d be desirable to anyone as a genuine love interest.

“What, you don’t think anyone could love a slut like you? Get over it. Money’s more important than your feelings, don’t even think about trying to stop what you do just for the sake of some guy who’s probably too busy spending time with other women while he’s gone.”

Kanako clenched the straps of her bag tightly, but she knew that the voice had a point. Who’s to say Chuuya wasn’t enjoying himself with another girl while Kanako wasn’t hovering over him as his ‘bodyguard’. She had a hard time feeling jealous, at least in the romantic sense, since she barely felt anything for him. But he was always so close to her, and the thought of him ignoring her for the sake of some other girl made her blood boil.

“Yeah, that’s right. Any random bimbo he picks up off the street would be nothing compared to you. You’ve done so much for him…but I guess you’re just not attractive enough. So what if you’ve got a chest to flaunt? Your face is just so unappealing…of course you’re stuck with those weird eyes, not to mention that scar.”

Kanako paused in the middle of the street. She looked down at herself, fully covered from head to toe. Afraid of anyone seeing what she kept underneath.

Her scars. The things that reminded her of how flawed she was. The things that littered her skin and made her feel dirty. Every time something touched them she believed her body was contaminated by whatever it was, and she’d bathe for hours at a time.

“Dirty…”

She clammed up as that word repeated in her mind. Dirty. She was dirty. She needed to get home and clean herself, she needed to get home and wash away the filth.

“You’re dirty.”

As Kanako stood in silence with her head hung low, people who walked by her would occasionally stop to check on her,

“Are you okay miss? You look upset, do you not feel well?” A lady asked as she tried to look at Kanako’s face, but it was mostly obscured by her hair.

Kanako looked up from the ground, and the moment the woman saw her face she gasped and looked around with a panicked expression, “I-I should go.” She quickly turned and ran. The people who saw her quickly flee from Kanako glanced over to look at her face,

“Woah, what’s up with her? She’s pale as a ghost.”

“Yeah, and look at her eyes…why are her pupils white?”

“That’s freaky.”

Kanako could hear the sounds of cameras snapping, but amidst the chaos what she didn’t pick up on was the approach of rapid footsteps. Someone shoved through the crowd, and all of a sudden people were screaming.

“HEY LADY!” One of the guys called. Kanako looked in his direction and saw him frantically calling out and pointing behind her. She gasped and turned around, but it was too late, as she was met with the sight of a man, before her vision went black.

There were gasps and screams as a man shoved her to the ground and beat her over the head with a bat. He got about three strikes in before a man wrestled him off of her, “Someone check on her, see if she’s breathing!!” He yelled while struggling to hold the man back, but he was desperately reaching for Kanako’s purse that had fallen from her grasp when she was knocked over.

“What the hell does this guy want?!” Another guy came in and held him back, while a third guy came and lifted Kanako up to check her pulse,

“Hey, she’s alive! Is there a doctor here?!” He called out.

Someone in a car nearby saw the commotion, and opened his door to call out, “I-I’m a taxi driver! I can take her to a hospital!” His eyes appeared to be closed due to his age, and he wore a hat.

“Alright, I’m bringing her over.” The man carried Kanako and her bags into the back seat of the car and laid her down, “The bleeding’s not too bad, he just got one strike over her head and she passed out. Be quick, don’t lose her!” The guy told him as he stepped back and slammed the door shut.

“I’m on it.” The taxi driver closed his door and began to speed off towards the hospital.

The man who apprehended her had passed out now, and it wasn’t long before the police arrived and began to question people.

“Excuse me, sir, what’s your name?” An officer asked one of the men who was restraining the assailant.

“Kazui Matsuda.” He answered as he stood up straight.

“Can you tell us what exactly happened?” The officer asked him as he pulled out a notepad and wrote his name down,

He began to recount the events, “Well you see, that woman there just all of a sudden stopped moving in the middle of the street, it was really weird…”

In an alleyway nearby, Mira stayed hidden away, “Perfect.” She deactivated her ability, and the criminal woke up. She watched as the police quickly cuffed and arrested him, while he yelled that he didn’t know what he did.

“Now that Kana’s in the hands of the suspect, we can see if he’s actually the one behind the organ trafficking.” Mira let out a sigh, “That girl is insane. But I gotta hand it to her, the plan worked.” She turned and walked further into the alleyway. She pulled out her phone and looked at a GPS showing a tracker moving rapidly down the street. Once she took note of that she dropped her phone back into her pocket.

Mira took down her hair and placed the red ribbon she wore in her mouth as she bundled her hair up again and tied it up into a bun. She stretched and walked out of the alley and into the commotion, where she was able to sneak her way through the streets, her eyes kept on an abandoned building.

Mira pulled her phone out again and moved faster to try and catch up with the taxi car. They eventually made it into a tunnel, where Mira tried her best to stay out of sight out of fear that she’d get caught.

“This definitely isn’t where the hospital is. He’s taking her somewhere else.” She noticed as they left the tunnel, and soon came to the abandoned building. The car parked, and the driver's door opened up. She hid away in a bush as she watched the taxi driver reach into his backseat and pull Kanako out.

“This is the location, she was right…” Mira snapped a photo of the two after making sure that her flash was off and her phone was on silent. She changed her phone number before typing in someone else’s number and texting them with the image,

“Address: **** ******** **. Come quick. Her life's at stake.” She sent before putting her phone away and dashing out of the bush.

[nothingbutcries]

I didn't intend to write; solitude with my thoughts was my craving. Yet, I know myself too well to be consumed by the labyrinth of my mind. I'm not merely sad; I'm devastated. How could fate deal me this blow again? Why must I endure this torment once more? Have I always fallen short? In what aspect do I lack? Self-esteem has been a stranger to me, never finding myself adorned with the belief of being pretty or beautiful. This recent event only deepens my despair.

How could you inflict this upon me? Trust was a hard-earned lesson for me, one that you callously discarded as though it hadn't taken me years to rebuild. Eight years—it took me eight years to mend myself, to cultivate love, trust, and a semblance of joy, to cease being my harshest critic... all seemingly in vain. I should have maintained my guard, should have realized that not even my husband could wound me. Titles mean naught when actions betray love. If he truly cherished me, he wouldn't have caused this hurt.

I thought I had found my soul's counterpart, a man who would never harm me. A man who would handle my heart with care, knowing it's a fragile glass, glued together from being shattered one time too many. Yet, I was a fool once again, believing in a mirage of love and safety.

I became aware of your actions when I suspected something during a nap while we were on a video call. I saw what you were looking at, and it deeply wounded me. I expressed my hurt, but you assured me it was nothing, refusing to admit to your actions. I chose to let it slide. We had spent so much time together, and on the day you departed for Thailand, you succumbed to it. I felt diminished as a woman, reduced to a mere object. Initially, I didn't want to make a fuss. We were still new, still navigating each other. Who was I to pass judgment? I loved you so intensely that I convinced myself it wasn't a serious issue.

I witnessed it again and again but remained silent. During the early stages of our relationship, I may have caught you twice, and just before our marriage, I saw it once more. Each time, I reassured myself, saying, "It's alright. It's alright. It's alright." I reasoned that perhaps you were stressed from the wedding planning—a planning process that was left almost entirely to me to manage.

After we married, I discovered it once more, this time with names attached. You thought you could hide it from me, but I've experienced betrayal far too often to miss the signs of deceit. I am your wife. You chose me. Why did you choose to hurt me?

We've only just embarked on our third month of marriage, yet it feels like an eternity has passed. I've felt the weight of expectations pressing down on me: the need to dress impeccably, to adhere to the rituals of prayer, to conceive, to adorn myself with gold trinkets daily, to spend every weekend engulfed in your family's multitude of events.

You ventured out with my family once, and it seemed as though you sought exclusion, a detachment from becoming part of my world. The scales of our relationship feel unbalanced. Although I dislike social outings, I've attempted to join you and your family, concealing my distaste to avoid offending them. Yet, you displayed your discontent openly to my family, withdrawing into silence and isolation. I felt the weight of your expectations bearing down on me.

Out of respect, I ceased painting my nails and abandoned the bleach that once streaked my hair. Did you notice? Did your family? I opted for more modest attire, hoping to align with your family's values. Did you notice? Did your family? My father acknowledged my shift towards more conservative dressing, contrasting it with my past, yet your family continued to criticize my wardrobe choices. Their words cut deep.

I'm not ready for parenthood, neither emotionally nor financially. I refuse to subject my child to a life of scarcity, devoid of enriching experiences. Each encounter with your parents brings renewed pressure for us to start a family. It pains me deeply. I never asked for gold, let alone to wear it daily. It makes little sense for me to bedeck myself in gold trinkets for work or social gatherings. I'm not one for excessive adornment. Your mother's accusation that I begged for these adornments stings. I did not.

I remained silent, not wanting to disrespect you or your family. I molded myself to fit your desires and needs, conforming to your family's expectations. Only to discover you lying to my face, concealing secrets, erasing evidence, indulging in pleasures with others.

Never before have I felt such disrespect. You were aware of my past, my triggers, my worries, my fears, my anxieties, my traumas. Yet, you chose to act as you did. It's a brutal slap across my face, a sting that pierces deep. The pain is so intense, I feel as though I could fall into an abyss. But I've done no wrong. I refuse to bring hurt to my parents, who have witnessed my transformation. I changed for you, out of reverence for you as my husband. And for what? You disrespected me. What was the purpose of those changes? Who were they for?

That night, I felt fragments of myself shatter and crumble like dust. I fought tirelessly to mend myself, to grow, to trust. I fell in love again, I entered marriage, and just like that, trust vanished. Eight years to rebuild myself once more? Perhaps even longer. You were my husband; you knew the weight of your actions, the toll they would take, and yet you proceeded regardless.

I struggle to articulate the profound sense of insult I feel as a woman. Was I not enough for you? Was that also a falsehood? You told me I was beautiful; was that deception too? You spoke of my worth, urging me to recognize it; was that yet another lie? What worth is it that you could squander $30 on a stranger, a whore, while I, your wife, am apparently worth less than that?

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 176

Man’s Best Friend with Benefits/The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe

“Man’s Best Friend with Benefits”

Plot Description: a police officer, who turned to witchcraft after working a case with Sam and Dean, is plagued by nightmares in which he murders innocent people

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: doesn’t seem like it’s simply nightmares, ya know?? Anyway, not saying that staying at home pretty much every night protects me 100% but…I do pretty much stay at home every night. These first five minutes? I’m pretty safe

You know…you never really think about the normal car ride conversations Sam and Dean have. It’s always the arguing, the mission focused ones, the ones with other people there…not the bickering about the Three Stooges

I don’t trust this dog…

Sam. Maybe MENTION that your visitor is a dog. I think Dean might be a little less weirded out……..oh. She’s no longer a dog. Um. Ohhhhhhh, she’s a familiar

It’s frankly amazing with how many crimes the boys commit and how many spells they do that they keep the attitude of “witches bad. cops good.” Come on!! Then again, this show never did understand its largest fanbase and kept trying to appeal to its intended audience

It’s gross that they cast a young, beautiful black woman to play the dog familiar to a white male cop/witch AND had her refer to him as her master. LIKE….

This is just a really bad episode. Holy fuck

“It’s not that you don’t trust me, it’s that you can only trust yourself” that hit Dean and ricocheted to hit me too. I don’t like that, Sammy…

You’re surprised you’re sneezing around Phillipe Le Chat when you’re allergic to cats??

This show is so cheap omg won’t show the transformation of the familiars. It’s actually funny

So let me get this straight, they fucked, and he let down his guard long enough to psychically show her the murders he believes he committed. Cool show

Call me and Dean prudes but it IS a little surprising to get the confirmation that they’re fucking.

Look how happy Dean is that Sam’s proud of him for not even making one beastiality joke for 15 hours since finding out James and Portia’s…arrangement

They…astral projected into the police department?? Just feels a little like cheating

So did Spencer set him up because being a witch and a cop was just…nope…it’s part jealousy part familiar fucking…

I’m so glad to hear Dean say he trusts Sam…….oh, cool. This is already taking a toll on Sam…..coughing up blood is not usually a sign that you’re good, my dude

“The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe”

Plot Description: Evacuated to a house in Dorset from war-torn London, Madge Arwell and her two children, Lily and Cyril, are greeted by a madcap caretaker whose mysterious Christmas gift leads them into a magical wintry world

(I don’t know why it keeps going back to the last few seconds of the previous episode when i definitely waited for the flip over to the next one. It’s not horribly annoying but it COULD be better)

Oh I do like the kind of awful action sequence at the beginning. Like…there IS room in my heart for bad cgi

Yeah, that’s exactly the kind of kid you could tell ALL OF THAT to and he’d not only understand all the words you just said but also comprehend and believe it

Nah because he actually does get to go home for Christmas…just…not yet

The parallel of Madge and the Doctor both breaking the doors of where the other stays. I don’t know if it MEANS anything but I do like it

One of the best things in the show is when the Doctor is amazed by what he’s done. He’s done some fun remodeling I’m this whole house and I’m in love with it

I loathe to admit it but Moffat does have some good lines. “Because every time you see them happy, you remember how sad they’re going to be, and it breaks your heart because what’s the point in them being happy now when they’re going to be sad later? The answer is, of course, because they are going to be sad later” Just. So touching. So heart wrenching.

Omgggggggggg her kids begging her to say what she always says at Christmas, that it’s going to be the best one ever. And she (and now the Doctor) is the only one who knows the truth about her husband having died in battle

He…he IS going to make sure the dad gets home safely for Christmas, right? It’s not going to JUST be part of the Narnia-esque world they’re about to go to

I never opened my presents early. I never wanted to. I never even looked for them growing up…

Something’s afoot in the forest

Sure, let’s just get the WHOLE family through the dimensional portal

Great Value Narnia doesn’t even have a Mr Tumnus…

I guess when you don’t have anyone to freak out TO, you’re gonna freak out less?? Yeah, see? Now that there are other people, she can break down about her children going missing on a far off planet in the future and how she nearly got stomped on and…had futuristic guns pointed at her and yelled at

They better explain these people made of wood soon

So, they’re some sort of protectors of this forest. I forgot this was a deforestation tale as well

Mmmm of course she’s going to be strong enough to wear the crown thingy. She’s…unenthusiastically impressed somehow

That is NOT a romantic story. He followed her til she agreed to marry him? She didn’t want to make a scene?? She’s lucky that worked out, that he was a decent guy otherwise, but why is that such a common trope?

So…I mean. Sure. The light from the ship Madge flew the forest spirits in led her husband home. I GUESS

The Ponds always setting a place at their table fit the Doctor IS making me tear up though. I was not expecting that. He finds it so unbelievable and he’s so touched by that

[irrelevantwriter]

Heart = Kiss

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Fluff, SFW

Warnings: Language, bullying, mentions of blood sacrifice, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, soft brown eyes (just an all around good time)

Word Count: 2718

Summary: As a member of Hellfire, you know Eddie. He isn’t really a risk taker. But he’s about to change all that. 

A/N: Eddie my beloved has taken over my life. And I have no ragerts. Hope you guys are down to clown because I have a series in the works. I seriously cannot be managed. Anyway, I love Eddie as a soft boy. I love him as a nervous, fidgety, snarky cinnamon roll so that’s what I’ve made him. So, enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

Disclaimer: Characters are of age in my fics.

**Check out my other Eddie fics here

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

“It’s just a delay. Not a cancellation,” Dustin explained, desperately seeking back up on the matter.

The group, including Wheeler, looked on helplessly, knowing the odds of Eddie pushing his campaign back were slim to none.

“You know Eddie’s never gonna go for it,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Yeah, but-,” Dustin started up again, only to be interrupted by Jason Carver and his herd of sheep. All of them wore the same letterman jacket. They looked like poster boys for the conforming youth of the USA.

It was creepy as shit.

“Well look who it is boys…the freaks.”

You rolled your eyes at his unoriginal greeting. The rest of your group did much the same, unimpressed with their tired forms of harassment. It must be slow in the entertainment department for them today.

Jason took the seat at the head of the lunch table. Eddie’s seat. The leader of your club wasn’t present yet. But he would be. And he wouldn’t be happy about the unexpected visit.

“What do you want?” Gareth sneered at the Ken doll replica currently sitting with them.

“Just wanna see what hellish and atrocious shit you freaks are up to today,” Jason said with a smirk, resting his elbows on the table as if he was making himself comfortable.

“What the hell is this?” Came Eddie’s voice from behind the group of basketball players, cutting to the front and seeing Jason sitting in his spot. He looked around at your faces and could see it wasn’t a pleasant interaction.

“Munson, nice of you to join us. We were just getting the inside scoop on what you and your band of freaks do.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, recognizing the game that was being played.

“Why don’t you boys head back to the locker rooms and jerk each other off or something?” Eddie threw back, not at all affected by Jason’s words.

“Only if she’ll come,” one of the basketball players pointed at you, eyes moving over your body in a way that made you recoil.

“Fuck off,” you bit back, flipping him off. You were pleased to see his eyes narrow and his jaw clench. You’d pissed him off.

“You heard the lady,” Eddie said, stepping between you and the pervert. “Fuck. Off.”

Jason stood suddenly and bypassed Eddie, getting into your personal space. You kept your cool. You weren’t afraid of them. You’d seen worse than these idiots. You’d been through worse. Anything they said or did would pale in comparison to the kind of life you’d already lived.

“Wouldn’t you rather be with us at the game tonight than slumming with these nerds?” He nodded to the table. Your friends. “We’ll even look past the unfortunate wardrobe.” His gaze roamed over your body, making a show of inspecting your outfit.

Everyone’s eyes were wide and waiting for what you had to say. You could see Eddie fidgeting. He didn’t like confrontation. But you’d seen him step in where it counted with Jason and his band of idiots.

You smiled, a big one so that everyone knew it was fake. You gestured with your index finger for Jason to move in closer. Like a moth to a flame, he did. Because at the end of the day he was a boy. And boys were weak when it came to girls. Freak or not.

You whispered, but it was still loud enough for the rest of the group to hear. “I prefer the virgin sacrifice we have planned for tonight. But you should come. You could be our honorary guest. I bet your blood is delicious.”

Jason reared back, a look of disgust on his face. Behind him, you could see Eddie smirking, hiding a laugh behind his ringed fingers. Around the table, snickers and puffs of muted laughter filled the tense silence.

“Fucking psycho,” Jason spit out, fear clearly passing over his features.

He was too easy.

You winked at him as he motioned for his sheep to follow, shoulder bumping Eddie along the way.

“Keep your freaks in check, Munson.”

Eddie only held his hands up, clearly tickled by the interaction. They left with nothing else left to say.

As soon as the group of guys were far enough away, the entire table erupted into laughter and excited chatter.

“Holy shit!”

“That was fucking amazing!”

“Did you see his face?”

You giggled, feeling sheepish about garnering so much attention. Eddie finally sat down and slow-clapped, his eyes taking you in with an expression you’d never seen before.

“All hail our princess of darkness,” Eddie teased, bowing towards you in a silly show of mock worship. The others joined.

“Fuck you,” you playfully retorted, shoving him.

“That was great.” He said, tone more serious.

You could see he wanted to say more, but he was cut off by Dustin.

“Eddie…my man…I have something to propose.”

************************************

You laughed as you gathered up your things, the night ending on a high note. Erica Sinclair had come through and defeated Eddie’s monster, shocking everyone. Including Eddie.

It was a celebratory occasion and you were looking forward to going to Curly’s for burgers and fries with the rest of the group. Turns out, everyone had plans. An unexpected surprise because usually no one had shit to do after campaign night.

“What’re you doing after?” Eddie asked, the room emptying as everyone dispersed.

You shrugged as you pulled your bag onto your shoulder. “Probably just grab some food and go home.”

“I’ll come with.”

You stopped walking and turned to look at Eddie, the both of you nearly colliding into each other. “But I thought you had plans?”

It was his turn to shrug. “It’s not important.”

That was all he offered. So you nodded and smiled, happy to have the company.

He opened the door for you with a flourish and insisted on driving to Curly’s. You acquiesced as long as you got to pick the music. He agreed. Albeit hesitantly. You both had nearly an identical taste in music, but sometimes you surprised each other.

You both were more alike than you’d initially realized. Your tastes in movies, shows, and music were alarmingly similar. You both enjoyed making the other laugh with stupid jokes and sarcasm. You often fought off the oppressive norms of high school by fighting back. You both projected tough exteriors, but beyond that there was softness. A real human with emotions that extended beyond being angry or comedic. There was sensitivity. And understanding. You liked to think it was why you both were so connected. Not because of the superficiality of your likenesses, but because of the hardships life had chosen to throw at you. That despite it all, here you were. Still rocking out.

The beginning notes of Ace of Spades by Motörhead filled the space and a look of satisfaction crossed Eddie’s face at your choice.

You watched out the window at the passing scenery, hearing him tap his fingers to the rhythm on his steering wheel. You thought about your time in Hellfire and how you’d finally found a place you belonged.

It hadn’t been easy in the beginning. Even though it was the 80s, many of the guys side-eyed you for being a girl interested in D&D. After you’d proven them wrong, it was still about you being a girl. Just in a different sense. Some of them didn’t know how to talk to you. They were intimidated.

You laughed to yourself when you thought about the time your mom accidentally shrunk your Hellfire shirt. It was normally a large fit on you. And you preferred it that way. But you’d gone to your D&D meetup that night with the shrunken shirt on. It was as if no one had realized you were anatomically a female until they saw your tits being hugged by the cotton. Even Eddie had seemed taken aback. It was a memory you could laugh about now though at the time you’d been embarrassed.

Eddie’s driving pulled you back into the present as he whipped into the parking lot of Curly’s Burgers. You sent a glare his way, but he only smirked in response.

“Every time I ride with you I swear it’s the last,” you huffed out, getting out of his van and meeting him at the door to the restaurant.

“A small risk,” he teased, opening the door for you.

Curly’s was basically abandoned. Everyone from the game had long since passed through. Eddie offered to pay so you found a table outside. It was off to the side, more secluded than the others.

You thought about Eddie’s sudden decision to join you. You guys were close, sure, but he’d never really jumped at the chance to hang out with you alone like that before. He was usually still a bit guarded around you. You chalked it up to being a girl in a mostly male setting. A majority of the group didn’t really know how to talk to the fairer sex. There was awkwardness abound. But the longer you were around, the easier it got. And soon you were just another one of the guys.

Except with Eddie.

He never really treated you like one of the guys. But he also wasn’t throwing himself at your feet. He had his moments though. He flirted in his own way. You’d been the target of that supposed flirting many times seeing as how you were the only girl in Hellfire. But you also saw the way he looked at some of the other girls at school. And you weren’t them.

In return, you’d thought about him in that sense plenty of times. Wanted him to want you in that way. But in the end you always convinced yourself that it was best he didn’t. For what reason, you weren’t entirely sure.

“Alright, double cheeseburger with everything, fries, and a chocolate milkshake. M’lady,” Eddie announced as he set the tray of food down on the table.

You both dug in, keeping casual conversation as you rehashed the night. Before long, the burgers and fries were picked apart. All that remained were the milkshakes.

“What you did today was very metal by the way,” Eddie said after a moment. When you stared at him in confusion, he continued. “With Jason. You were brave. And that’s metal as fuck.”

You laughed around your straw and shook your head. “I just did what I always do. Sometimes those assholes have to be reminded that not everyone worships them.”

He nodded, traces of his strawberry milkshake on his lips.

“You’re braver than me,” he confessed.

“That’s not true.”

“It is. You’re a take no prisoners kinda chick and I like that. I wish I was more like that,” he admitted, his eyes downcast to the many rings decorating his fingers.

You were speechless. You’d always thought of Eddie as someone who was brave. He was his authentic self in a place that didn’t like or really allow that. How much braver could someone be?

“You are brave, Eddie. Everyone thinks so. The guys…they look up to you. They practically worship you,” you affirmed, happy to see the corners of his mouth lift up.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You look up to me?” he dared to ask, voice hesitant, as if afraid of the answer.

You played with the straw in your cup, thinking about his question. You could tell he was trying to play it off as if he was joking, but behind those soft orbs you could see a desire to know.

You weren’t quite ready to bare your soul.

“In my own way,” you offered with a teasing smile.

He accepted your response with a hard knock of his knuckles against the table top, a boyish grin on his lips.

“I’ll take it.”

*********************************

You sighed as soon as Eddie put the van in park. You were back in the Hawkins High parking lot, your car just feet away. You were just about to reach for the door handle when Eddie stopped you.

“I-uh,” he stumbled over his words, suddenly looking nervous. You turned to face him, giving him your full attention. “I wanted to thank you for what you said earlier. About me being brave. It, uh…it meant a lot.”

He finally met your eyes, the sincerity in them evident. You forced yourself not to make a joke. Eddie was being vulnerable and the least you could do was respond in kind. No matter how uncomfortable his words made you. Or his gaze. Because the more he looked at you, the more you realized he was looking at you. You thought it’d been a fleeting thing, but his eyes were definitely zeroing in on your lips. Your hands began to sweat at the notion.

Surely he wasn’t thinking what you thought he was thinking?

Was he?

“Well, I meant it. So you’re welcome,” you responded lamely.

You weren’t sure what he wanted from you at that moment. He was being weird. And not his normal brand of weird. It was throwing you off, making you feel things that you’d long ago buried.

The silence stretched on, suddenly making the moment awkward. Eddie’s eyes still danced between your face and his hands, as if trying to decide something. His gaze lingered on your lips again. That was the last straw.

“Eddie, if you’re thinking about kissing me then you need to just do it now because the lon-,”

You were cut off by his lips. They enveloped yours. Warm and soft. It was clumsy at first as he tried to angle your chin while reaching across from the driver’s seat. But after a moment you both found an equilibrium.

Kissing Eddie was nothing like you’d thought it’d be. He was gentler than you’d anticipated. His hands shook, his touch tentative. You reached across and cupped his cheek, wordlessly telling him you wanted this. Wanted him.

It felt like hours, but only seconds had passed when you both pulled apart. Your chests were heaving as you both sucked in air, taking in the other person. Limbs were still entangled even though your lips no longer touched. He’d tasted like the strawberry shake he’d had, the flavor still lingering on your lips.

“That was…,”

“What was that?”

You both spoke up at the same time. You were trying to figure out what the hell just happened while Eddie wore a goofy smile on his face. You detached from him completely and waited, hoping he answered your question.

“I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to do that for awhile,” he confessed, the uncertainty not as prevalent.

“You have?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t wanna make shit weird with Hellfire and stuff. And I didn’t want you to think I was just interested because you were the only girl,” he hurriedly explained, hands moving with his words.

“You’re not?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, seemingly exasperated by your inability to catch up.

“What made you decide? To kiss me?”

“I saw inside your campaign folder earlier.” He answered with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye.

“Okay…” you drew out, still not following.

“You had everyone’s names listed. And beside each one was an asterisk. Except for mine. It was a heart.”

You blinked, not believing what you were hearing. “You kissed me because of a heart?”

“No. I kissed you because I finally knew you wanted me to.”

His expression was nearly manic as he explained how he’d come to the conclusion that you liked him. It was just like Eddie to only make a move when he knew it would work in his favor. He wasn’t as big of a risk taker as people thought. But in this scenario, he was right on the money.

You laughed, unable to hide the range of emotions you now felt. Joy. Shock. Confusion. You were still in disbelief, but the heat that radiated off your lips said otherwise.

Eddie Munson kissed you.

Eddie Munson liked you.

“Hey, do me a favor…,” you started, laughter dying down as you began to lean over the center console.

“What?” he whispered, looking as I’d he’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him.

“Kiss me again.”

And he did.

[tendossidepiece]

there's only one thing i love as much as shopping

toji fushiguro x black coded fem!reader MDNI | 18+ 2.8k words CW: public sex, fingering, dom!toji x sub!reader, cursing, spanking, size kink, creampie, toji is hung like a racehorse, mirror sex, choking, dirty talk, degradation, light choking, praise

author's note: i stg y'all better understand this is fiction and if I catch anyone doing this in a bathing suit they haven't purchased in a store it's gon be hell to pay. other than that, ENJOY LOVELIES

There aren’t many things in this world you find genuine happiness in; However, one of your main sources of joy comes from the brick wall of a man that is Toji Fushiguro. Standing tall and menacingly, staring down anyone who even thinks of laying a finger on you. His cold glare sends chills up the spines of anyone it meets, but you remain coiled around his bicep for dear life. You two fit into each other nicely, really ringing true to the saying “opposites attract”. While his aesthetic centered around striking fear into the hearts of those he comes across, you were his little bubble of sunshine. Your wardrobe consisted of bright and earth tone colors, frilly skirts, cutesy dresses, and a plethora of jewelry. His closet, on the other hand, was like looking into a sea of darkness; Nothing but black and the occasional navy blue or grey, and god forbid he accessorize. He truly didn’t start experimenting with colors and different styles in his clothing till he met you. He had come a long way since you had met him, that morning you had finally convinced him into ditching his old leather wallet which he, unfortunately, kept in his back pocket at all times, attached to a biker chain. Which is why the two of you were out now, he needed a new wallet and you’d never pass up a shopping trip with him. 

“We’re not shopping. I need a new wallet, we find one, we’re out. Got it?” he didn’t turn to look at you as he spoke, keeping his eyes ahead. He didn’t necessarily enjoy shopping for clothes, and he knew how you got when it came down to spending money on them, so he put down some ground rules before either of you stepped foot in a shop.

“Toji, I don’t know who you think I am but I know how to just look and not spend money” you rolled your eyes, glaring up at him and hoping he caught your passive-aggressive tone.

“You’re a liar. And an addict. I don’t even want you looking at anything besides wallets” he remained stern, “actually, I want you to stay by my side the whole time we're in the store.” 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?” you huffed, not in the mood to argue with him. He chuckled to himself, knowing you’d accept your fate and follow his rules.

“All I know is if you wander off, that little credit card bill isn’t the only thing you’re gonna be worried about, understood?” he spoke softly this time, finally looking down to meet your gaze. His eyes filled with mischief as a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, making that scar look more enticing than ever before.

“Don’t hurt yourself old man, trying to keep up with me might get you hurt” you sauntered off ahead of him, swaying your hips as you walked off. You knew what he was doing, tempting you with your two favorite things: sex with him and shopping, and there was no way in hell you were going to let him get the best of you. If anything, you’d try your hardest to break him first.

As you both walked into the storefront, the chilled air from the AC caused your skin to erupt in goosebumps, making you shiver. Toji lingered close behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, and guiding you towards the men’s clothing department. Unbeknownst to you, to get to that part of the store, the two of you would have to walk through the shoe department and the strategically placed new women’s summer line.

“I’ll meet you over there, Toji. I gotta use the bathroom” you turned your neck to look up at him, gracefully placing a hand over his that still rested on your shoulder. He pointed his glare at you suspiciously, debating on whether or not you were just trying to go shop without his knowledge.

“Ironically enough, we just so happen to be by the women’s clothes” he pointed his glare at you, quickly losing the little bit of faith he had in you.

“I actually have to pee, hall monitor headass” you reassured him, grumbling the last part to yourself.

“Watch it. You’re still on thin ice till you get back” he pointed one of his fat fingers in your face and you swatted at it.

“I’ll bite that thing off, let me go pee” you were growing tired of his harassment while he let out an amused laugh.

 He walked off in the direction of his destination, and you watched as he disappeared from your line of sight. In all honesty, you did have to pee but the new bathing suits displayed on the mannequins definitely piqued your interest. 

“I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever the hell I want” you spoke under your breath, huffing. Taking a glance at the price tag on your way to the bathroom wouldn’t be the end of the world. If anything, you deserved it for putting up with Toji’s pain in the ass.

“45% off? So that’s…$22.50” you mumbled to yourself, the price tag to a bright red bikini top sat between your fingers as you contemplated finding your size. When you thought this decision couldn’t get any harder, the devil himself appeared to you in the form of a sales associate. She was an older woman, maybe in her 50’s with darker hair and features, dawning a name tag that read, Daisy.

“Hi ma’am, I see you’re checking out our swimsuit collection. I just wanted to let you know there’s an additional 20% off if you use this coupon” she smiled at you kindly, handing you a small piece of cardstock with the details of the promotion printed on the front. You couldn’t help but mentally want to jump the lady for simply doing her job, and yourself for crumbling under the pressures of consumerism. Maybe Toji was onto something when he called you an addict.

“Thank you. Yeah, if I wasn’t considering buying this set before, I certainly am now” you chuckled, plucking your size bikini top and bottom from the rack. The woman giggled at your joke, asking if you needed any more assistance. You politely declined and headed in the direction of the dressing room, your bladder would have to wait this one out. Finding an empty room, you closed the door behind you and began undressing.

“Oh yeah, y’all can take all my money” you grinned at your reflection in the full-length mirror in front of you. The red looked ethereal on your sun-kissed complexion, the small diamonds adding a level of elegance that made the set look way more expensive than you’d end up paying. Toji would love this, you thought to yourself, deciding to snap a mirror selfie to show him later once he’d forgotten about the whole ‘no shopping’ ordeal. Just as you got the picture, the doorknob on the door jiggled slightly, catching your attention.

“Occupied!” you shouted as the door swung open, revealing the Goliath himself standing in the doorway. He quickly stepped inside the room with you, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Good God, do you know how to knock?!” your startled expression melted into that of aggravation.

“What did I tell you before we walked into this store?” Toji spoke softly as he stepped closer to you. That’s when it finally hit you, you were standing in front of him almost naked…in a public dressing room.

“Baby, I know but look how pretty” you stood up straight, turning around so he could see just how little your ass was covered by the thong bikini bottoms. His eyes raked over your curves, the valleys of your breasts, and the plush of your thighs. He let his gaze linger on the areas that were exposed for a moment, taking in as much as he could before bringing himself back to reality.

“Very beautiful as always, but please don't try and change the subject, darling” he took another step forward, now a mere few centimeters away from you. Your mind went rampant thinking of what his ‘punishment’ would entail.

“I know, I know but it was the saleslady’s fault” you dug deep for that excuse, knowing it would do shit to get you out of your predicament. And maybe you didn’t want to get out of this close-quarters situation.

“You’re a big girl, you can’t blame anyone else for you trying on this very sexy number” he gestured to the bathing suit, letting his hand fall to your waist and pull you into him.

“Okay, maybe I have a small problem” you breathed out, physically flushed from the closeness.

“Glad you finally realized, but you’re about to have an even bigger problem” he growled, smacking your ass as he watched the recoil in the mirror behind you.

“Toji!” you half moaned, half yelled, taken aback by his sudden aggression. He was quick to shut you up, grabbing your cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger, making your lips pucker.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me. Don’t wanna get caught, now do we?” his raspy voice made your knees want to buckle. Instead of verbally replying, you settled for a simple nod, looking up at him through thick lashes.

“Good girl.” he gave your ass one more slap before spinning you around to come face to face with the mirror once again. Seeing yourself standing in front of Toji, it finally clicked how big he truly was. His broad chest and shoulders expanded much further than yours, the muscles on his exposed arms looked like they were larger than your head. Then there was the fact that he towered over you, his height was truly something to behold. You hadn’t realized you zoned out admiring Toji’s reflection, but his fingers dipping into the waistband of your bikini bottoms brought you back to Earth. His fingers run along your folds, collecting wetness to bring back up to your clit. The sudden actions caught you off guard, a breathy moan escaping your parted lips.

“You’re already a mess and I’ve barely touched you yet” he chuckled more so to himself as you threw your head back into his chest when he began rubbing tight circles on the area. The quicker he worked his fingers, the tighter the cord in your stomach grew, pushing you closer to your release. Toji watched your face contort in pleasure through the mirror, wishing those plump lips of yours were wrapped around his leaking tip right now.

“Right there, please” you gasped, feeling that cord about to snap. His unoccupied hand snaked around the front of your body, pulling the skimpy top to the side to free your breasts, and took one of your nipples in between his fingers to pinch and roll. The collective stimulation pushed you to the edge of your release, and just as you felt yourself falling over that edge, he stopped.

“You’re an evil man” you shakily breathed out, clearly disappointed that he ruined your orgasm.

“Did you forget this was supposed to be a punishment?” he leaned down, his deep voice rasping low in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. In the same breath, he slid the red bottoms off your lower half and gently knocked your legs apart so he could slot himself comfortably behind you. The sudden change of position threw you off balance, making you bend at the waist, using the mirror to support yourself. He played with the fat of your ass while freeing his length from the constriction of his jeans, holding the bottom of his shirt between his teeth to get a better view. The impressive length of his dick rested on your ass and he contemplated pulling his phone out to capture the wondrous sight. You and Toji had sex quite regularly, so one would assume you’d be used to his size by now but that was so far from the truth; He was too big to truly ever get adjusted to, but you enjoyed every inch nonetheless. Lining himself up with your dripping entrance, he dragged the tip of his dick along your slick lips, mixing his pre cum with your wetness. You shivered at the feeling as your mouth fell agape when he finally started to push in.

“Ah, fuck baby you’re gonna have to relax for me” he groaned out, spreading your ass to get a better view of how tightly your pussy wrapped around him.

“I’m trying” you whined, pouting at him through the mirror. The way he stretched you out hurt so good it was hard to focus on anything else, but when he reached around to thumb at your clit again, your tight muscle began relaxing for him with no problem.

“There you go, all for me” he spoke soft but his words were on an expressway to your core making your walls clench around him with a vice grip. 

Once he felt his tip reach your soft spot, it was game on from there. His hands gripped at the flesh of your ass to steady himself and he began relentlessly pounding into you. The sound of your ass smacking against his pelvis echoed through the small room as you tucked your head under your arms that leaned against the mirror for more stability…and to muffle the obscene noises leaving your mouth.

“Keep your eyes on me, no looking down” Toji grabbed you by your throat, pulling you flush against his chest. Half of the bathing suit you’d been trying on laid discarded on the floor while the top hung loosely around your neck, leaving both of your tits exposed. With every thrust, they’d jump and jiggle, putting on the most magnificent show for the man behind you. His thick hand remained on your throat, applying pressure every time you shut your eyes to remind you he wanted you looking at him in the mirror. This was when he realized the more pressure he applied to your throat, the more you clenched around him.

“Is having me choke you doing it for you, slut?” he nipped at your ear, his voice fueling that fire in your stomach. He knew what he was doing, and god forbid he’d stop, you’d cry if he stopped before you came again. 

“Yes yes yes,” you managed to grunt out, “Toji, don’t stop.” you were begging him at this point. Pride and ego aside, you just wanted him to fill you to the brim. Neither of you paid any attention to the lewd noises coming from your small stall, not a care in the world about whether or not you’d get caught.

“Don’t you think you should be a little more polite, y/n?” his breath was hot on your neck, making it hard for you to think straight as he continued to pound into you. He was being a dick because he knew you’d go to great lengths to finally cum. Sweat was now visible on both of your faces; So much so that some of your curls began sticking to your forehead. 

“Please Toji, wanna cum for you” you mewled, grinding back on him. Just as much as you were wrapped around his finger, he was wrapped around yours and he’d do just about anything once you batted those pretty lashes.

“Fuck yeah, gonna fill you up real nice” his voice grew raspier, a moan caught in his throat as you clenched around him for the umpteenth time. His pace quickened and you could tell he was about to cum, just as your release began to build up. 

“Won’t waste a drop, I want it all” and that’s when he snapped, bending you back over to allow you to throw your ass back on him. The noises that left his mouth were heaven to your ears, and the sight of you riding him while standing was doing something to his head.

The two of you successfully reached your climaxes in tandem, stings of obscenities leaving both you and Toji. The feeling of him pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into your worn-out pussy was overstimulating and made your knees buckle under you. Before you could hit the ground, he caught you, wrapping an arm around your torso and sitting you on the only chair the dressing room offered.

“You’re insane” you panted out, slipping your clothes back on from your seat and trying your best to fix your situation of curls. You watched as Toji readjusted himself in his jeans and straightened out his shirt, smirking to himself.

“I’m insane?? I told you what would happen if you didn’t listen to me. You brought this upon yourself” he dared to laugh as if he wouldn’t have to carry you out of the store.

“Someone had to have heard, I hope we don’t get banned. I like it here.” you placed your head in your hands petulantly, the feeling of guilt rising in your chest.

“On the bright side, you kind of have to buy that swimsuit now” he gestured to the bottoms soiled with your slick laying on the ground and the top that you now held in your hands. You swatted at Toji’s arms as you both prepared yourselves to face whatever sales associated you’d encounter once you left the confines of the dressing room.