#which if The Person Reading This is who told me: do not be embarrassed lol it is Extremely Irrelevant emotionally

[unproduciblesmackdown]

april autism acceptance month posting, the musings of (going for Self Acceptance as well) from the desk of milo unproduciblesmackdown....

mostly just having reflected on like, huh, might be that By And Large one is more nonspeaking than one thinks....that i've Been like "well sure in person i'm usually markedly Quite Quiet but also secretly a mile a minute chatterbox." like already aware of factoring in the Quietness in terms of like, generally always having been in everyday situations where i don't Want to talk. which also means being aware of like, someone the other day was talking about how the ""normal"" approach (which is not even simply Non Autistic, just the "ideals" in any sense that are Not That, yet positioned as such, to the disempowering Othering of others/anything else) is that verbal exchanges are often nigh exclusively about coming into it with some Goal in mind and just being dead set on that exact inflexible outcome / the other person's input can probably really only get in the way of that. used to be asked How Was Work by family and if i answered in the accurate negative would be told how it wasn't that bad actually; then why even ask. nowadays i know i'm virtually only spoken to to say something At Me; the other day frustrated by this & had an "exchange" where, when being [Talked At] for a sec, didn't really verbally respond at all, which was not considered a wrench in the proceedings in the least, as i expected........relevantly as well, i'm v aware of Talking becoming markedly more difficult if drained &/or stressed (or, w/immediate relevancy, the Talking being especially miserable atm, causing that exhaustion/stress w/high efficiency). that somewhat more Freestyle "normal" communication can include "you have to speak to acknowledge another person's presence, or its hostile" and that speaking is the especially Hollow Scriptathon of things like, getting hit with the "how are you [misgendering]" which, absorb the punch of misgenderment, gear up for Speaking which also is already "wrong," too much delay, remember that you never answer How Are You with how you are, and sometimes just not Pretending to answer and just repeating the question is not particularly more negatively regarded than any other way you approach it

musing on the [it's all bizarre but definitely getting shit for being audhd / nonbinary] childhood / first twenty yrs of life mysteries, like, well when being lectured as it were, which was nothing if not an intensified hollow scriptathon (see: the perfectly harmonious resonance in "how you navigate existing around an abuser" and "how you navigate existing anywhere but expressly personally friendly/safe spaces, being autistic") too demeaning to be borne, where it would be wrong to not make eye contact, then making forced eye contact (and learning how to just like, approach it as a [go through the motions] detached thing) was also wrong, it was wrong to not seem distressed and also to seem distressed; and it's like oh yeah back then & even now i can be as Stressed as anything but there's always a shift where if i make myself Talk i may cry like immediately, which i virtually never do out of otherwise being unhappy/stressed. there's how one of my most genuine friendships in elementary school (the autistic time as well of: many/more friendships from all public school times were other people Deciding we should be "friends;" sometimes this being like, the friend In Charge, and then: me, conveniently) was one where i don't think we actually Spoke. may not be a typical neurotypical thing. there's also the fact our being Distracted by interacting, that is, [not talking] during not even a lesson where the stakes were like "you haven't put this sheet in your folder at the exact time Instructions demanded you to, no sooner or later???" was punished more dramatically (and individually. classic) than i ever saw anyone get for Being Distracted / Not Paying Attention or certainly for talking. very nd of me for that too; like the Especial disdain teachers would have if i Was talking and too caught up in the exchange to notice it was supposed to be the quiet times now, which of course was wilfull disrespect for authority.....like oh but believe me i have that too lmfao, and these instances do not counter it. f for my friendship with jacqueline b/c we weren't allowed to sit next to each other and the disproportionate/extraordinary qualities of the response made it so it was hardly clear we were even allowed to interact at all, for all intents and purposes. great

certainly verbality at all can be a whole challenge too overall, but w/focus on the speaking....truly the mile a minute speaking / voluminous writing of things Happens, but it's sure when i get to talk About something, and the High Motivation boost of [whatever's being talked about] is quite necessary b/c it sure still takes effort lol....This is taking effort, to be sure. meanwhile there's also the damper of like, people's Disinterest / Dismissal meaning that just b/c you talk doesn't mean anyone hears you, to an extent it's nigh literal lol, beyond double empathy problem misunderstanding (plus that: ppl know they don't have to understand, &/or can choose to (pretend to) misunderstand / know they don't get it, but don't have to) there's also just like, not bothering to process what you say; being the one talked over like you weren't saying anything, lack of any response at all like you weren't saying anything, someone else cutting in and you may as well no longer be here / nth wheeling in any group. the times i've had to say something which needs a response / to be absorbed, and fighting for my life doing so / reiterating like half a dozen times / repeating this later, multiple times, b/c i know someone may give you the "politeness" of Looking At You / nominal spoken stock responses, while not absorbing it / forgetting it after 5 sec..........to be sure, times i've had an extensive, specific, belabored exchange (plus alllll the extra effort to emphasize Amicability in it) that got such responses, only to have it later clear they didn't actually absorb the point they'd apparently gone "right, okay" to. times i've [that] and then 5 min later had the person i'd talked to come over to be like "oh did you say [the thing i said to them]" only b/c some third party had overheard and actually processed it, then in turn had what They conveyed to that person i'd talked to actually listened to; had "i am once again asking" agonies multiple times over months & months only eventually fulfilled, spontaneously, by someone else entirely....

also that, when i Was able to having amicable, comfortable, in-person exchanges, my ""small talk"" friendly engagement to nonhostilely acknowledge someone / have an exchange involves Verbal Bits (running gag for Dinnermaking Convo to pretend to be on iron chef, and all named chef geoff, for example) or Nonverbal Ones (entering one's peripheral vision and dancing until acknowledged, to be funny, or ignored, also to be funny) or even simply that the amicability can come from other people, in spite of it all, by just not interpreting my operating while being myself and not constantly going out of my way to try to expressively reassure someone i'm friendly to them being met with [people just not deciding they hate me and/or i am beneath them] like, some great times lol. friendships where we didn't Really start talking for eons, and i go "guess people gotta be patient" like well sure lol. and then they gotta like how i Do interact

and the next bit of "can't believe you keep learning; realizing things" is just going like "ohh wait, was thinking of one's inherent value within a framework of [noninherent value you can so totally Bootstraps Earn we swear]" lol like....even in terms of like "nd people are the backbone of your fandom" type things like, well yeah they are; and that "sometimes people think it's neat that you can draw" like yeah it is and sometimes they really are; but that it's like, but Forget It re: thinking of that like "well so that Makes Up For [being autistic] as it might usually negatively impact socializing by 'normal' standards" like, to hell with making up for anything. i like to post about interests and draw about them and it's fun when people enjoy them and it can be fun to Talk About something / interact through that; it's not like "ableism: over" nor making up for anything, and what can really come of thinking it has to be Valued by how it might make other people see You as more inherently worthwhile yourself than they otherwise would've, right. i'm like "well i don't always express myself xyz ways but at least i do in other ways i suppose" but end the sentence before the But. i'm not As Good(tm) As Allistic through the [expressing myself] i do through drawing, and that's fine b/c autistic ppl having talents people value isn't the antiableism key lol. next i can be [tfw autistic ppl try to go Above & Beyond at work to "make up for" being autistic] or employers being like "hey maybe hire autistic people" not to be Inspirationally Inclusive in theory or whatever but b/c it's like, they'll be exploitable / valuable as exploited employee. like how autistic people get fired or burned out and then it's like whoops, we need like 5 new hires to replace them; who wasn't promoted, paid, or recognized as doing 6 ppl's work. everything being [popularity contest] actually. not to say Posting For Fun is the exact same as formal job lmfao nor randos like employers; but essences remain, see: that resonance with [reacting to abuser's attention] behavior and [interacting with randos out & about, trying to be deemed Friendly Normal Correct enough] behavior. the throughline that people won't regard you as having inherent value unless they regard people as having inherent value, on principle

i do have peak success like, an art post is very tl;dr billboard for Your Existence lol. and then if people are interested enough in whatever brand of [saying shit] i do? probably promising start to whether interactions with me won't be [their interest is exhausted within a day] lol. find some fellow nd people by crossing paths via interest, which is a Talk About Something thing. and even then, of course, you're not guaranteed friends with every other nd person. Spontaneous Alignments, everyone's friend....while at this juncture it's like, hmm, maybe i Am actually not like. theoretically interested in [i want to have new friendships] lmao. thinking about what they're supposed to be? what i could even think of them hypothetically being? invokes no [i want that] feelings. thinking of someone else saying, in a different context, how he doesn't think anyone's Guaranteed any kind of companionship, which i agree with (vs. ppl talking about it like Bootstraps Merit like yes you can Deserve a romantic partner, and Deserve friends too, and a general appeal/likability/personableness will be concomitant w/a Deserving person); thinking of someone else talking abt, in a different context, how her experience being racially othered means she just doesn't end up liking being around people at all / prefers being alone. the first guy talking about how he doesn't Preclude new relationships but he also approaches w/deliberation like, navigating being content being alone. thinking abt stuff talking about [autistic ppl who want romantic relationships] that mention ppl having to go ahead and work on being okay with the idea they may very well never have one. the questioning of [relationships] and [community] in a consciously political context; what's it mean for someone to have Relationships, be in a Community, would that be Required of them for them to deserve / get to expect to receive [xyz] that everyone theoretically would. thinking of relationality as acknowledgment of the realities of ways things, incl people, affect each other, the results of that

that's about all lol might "ideally" be more nonspeaking than i gave myself credit for; only shifting towards "i give myself inherent value on principle and can only be regarded as having inherent value by others Also on principle" like no [bootstrapping earning shit] as a way to also see value in what i do either lol

[m0nsterqzzz]

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar - 

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack. 

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives. 

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

 All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

[midnightanxietytm]

I have a silly idea :3

imagine Mabel recounting the “accident with the leaf blower” to the reader, who then proceeds to make sure Ford isn’t around and tells her about the “kissing practice robot” incident from high school (which they witnessed) if you don’t know what I mean watch the land before swine commentary video

meanwhile Ford is down in the basement and suddenly stops what he’s doing and is like “I feel a disturbance in the force.”

A/N: Oh my god the kissing bot is so iconic, Ford is such a dork for that one lol. Hope I met your expectations with this one , its been a while since I've written something more lighthearted. Thanks for the request!

Contents: Mabel and Reader spilling tea, talks about kissing and romance and other sappy things. Ford x Reader more implied than anything. Short and fun.

Word count: 500

You know something is wrong because Mabel isn't smiling, Mabel is always smiling. She walks through the gift shop door and goes straight to sit on the counter next to you with a big sigh.

“Alright, spill it, sunshine.” You say with a small smile, putting down the book you'd been reading in order to give her your full attention.

She looks up at you with big round eyes. “I dunno… The date went well, he even kissed me!” You gasp in pretend shock and that gets a small giggle out of her. “I know right?! But like… It felt weird! It wasn’t bad! Just weird… maybe I need more practice…”

That makes you laugh as you prop yourself near the checkout; “Mabel, darling, kissing isn't really some equation you can figure out, maybe he just wasn't the right person.”

She lets out another big sigh, but you can tell is more resigned and hopefull this time. “Yeah, I guess… Besides, I really don't want another leaf blower accident.”

You laugh again, Mabel has that charm. “The what accident now?”

“Oh my gosh, I never told you?! It's so embarrassing; I was obsessed with that boy, who turned out to be a bunch of gnomes by the way, and I wanted our first kiss to be perfect, so I stuck a photo of him on a leaf blower on suction made and used it to practice.” When she said that, both of you started to laugh so hard tears formed in your eyes. “I-t left like this huge bruise on my face!”

You lean your head on the table, trying to stop laughing, but the mental image of Mabel with a leaf blower stuck to her face is too much.

“Oh gosh you're just like your grunkle!” You say in-between wheezing.

“Wait which one?” Mabel asked, rubbing the tears off her eyes.

“Okay so…” You began, looking around just to check Ford wasn’t near. “Your Grunkle Ford, back in high school he built this robot…” You look around again, holding back laughter and bringing down your voice. “It was this mannequin head with a rubix cube for a mouth and it had an alarm that wouldn’t stop playing until he…” And you did quotation marks with your hands. “...kissed it right.”

And you both started laughing all over again. “That's so dorky oh my gosh!”.

“Right!? He's such a nerd.” You say, and there's a softness to it that eases Mabel's worries about romance all together. “It fell from his locker once and it started blasting the darn alarm! He couldn’t go anywhere for a week after that without people mimicking kissing noises. It was gross.” You chuckle and sigh, sitting back down on your stool. “Compared to that, a leaf blower is no big deal!”

“Compared to what?” Says a third voice.

You and Mabel snap your heads, seeing Ford standing on the doorway behind the vending machine.

Crap.

[nikkento-writes]

Rub You the Right Way - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – cunnilingus, use of sex toys, cum eating, PIV sex (missionary), breeding and pregnancy kink

Summary: You and Choso are next-door neighbors who are very much smitten with one another. After a month of dirtying up third base as much as possible, the both of you are finally ready to hit it out of the park. 

Author’s Notes: Baseball euphemisms because why not LOL? Thank you for reading! I love these dorks so much! This is the final installment of this teeny tiny series, so thank you all so much for the love and support on this, it means the world to me! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

“Damn, that was good!” Yuji exclaims, licking off the last of the chicken katsu curry from the rim of the bowl. He leans back on one hand, rubbing his belly with the other, a loud belch escaping his mouth. “Oops, sorry,” he apologizes, only a little bit embarrassed.

You giggle, stacking his empty dish on top of the others, standing up to place it in the sink. “I’m so glad you liked it. I couldn’t have done it without your brother, though. He’s a really good teacher.” 

“See, I told you, didn’t I?” Yuji smirks, pleased with himself. 

“It’s not hard to make, especially with the boxed curry mix.” Choso’s voice is bashful, downplaying the praise from both you and his brother. Still, you can sense the tiniest hint of pride in there.

“He’s too modest.” You return to the table to sit next to him, nudging him playfully.

Yuji rolls his eyes. “I know! It’s so frustrating! Seriously, you’ve got to give yourself more credit, bro. You’re awesome.” The blush on Choso’s cheeks are adorably obvious now as he continues to wave off the compliments. 

“Yeah, you really are,” you reiterate, resting your hand on top of his thigh, squeezing him gently. With the table obscuring his view, Yuji can’t see this small gesture, nor does he notice the subtle way Choso reacts, flustered and slightly aroused. He’s been wanting to touch you all night, but not in front of his precious baby brother, who remains clueless to the extent of your relationship. Before you can pull away completely, not wanting to rattle him any further, he hooks his pinky with yours, his grip unyielding. You smile to yourself, the two of you linked together while you chat with Yuji about your plans the rest of the night, which consists of Choso teaching you how to make a lovely castella cake, amongst other not-so-innocent activities. For the sake of Yuji’s virtue, you decide to leave that part out. 

It's been over a month now that you and Choso started your relationship after that unfortunate package mix-up, which ended up not being unfortunate at all. By total accident, you unboxed his brand spanking new Cock Sucker 3000, and in a bizarre attempt to alleviate any awkwardness from the situation, you proceeded to use your own sex toy in front of him while he demonstrated his, resulting in the hottest night of your life. Two days following that, after another ridiculous misunderstanding, the both of you realized your feelings for one another and decided to give this a shot. 

You’ve learned so much about him, most importantly that he’s quite the fragile soul, often distrusting of strangers right off the bat. The last thing you want is for him to lose his trust in you, so taking it day-by-day, little-by-little, is what works the best for the both of you. The two of you have remained on third base when it comes to sex, which you’re not complaining about one bit, considering how voracious you’ve been with each other. You’re waiting for the right time to finally hit that home run, a grand slam at this rate. It could happen tonight, tomorrow, maybe even a few more months from now. All you know for certain is that you’re happy with Choso, and he’s happy with you. That’s all that matters.

However, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t fantasizing about it already. You can’t help yourself when you’re with him. In front of others, he’s usually more reserved, timid. Alone with you, his confidence unveils. His touches are assured all over your body, an expert at all the big and little ways to make you moan in pleasure. The range of expressions he’s willing to show you, from unabashedly needy to absolutely feral, make your body tingle just thinking about it. And that voice, sweet and soft when he’s coaxing you, then to that sexy, gruffy tone as he ravishes you, whether it’s with his fingers, his mouth, his firm grip on the vibrator. It’s no shock that you’ve imagined the perfect way he’d slide into you, filling you up to the brim with his massive cock. Hell, you’ve admitted it to each other several times already, how badly you both want it, how good it’d feel to be bounded together as one. You keep reminding yourself to be patient, because when it does happen, it will be well worth the wait. 

The three of you hang out a while longer until Yuji announces that he’s leaving to get ready for a party with his friends. Choso gives his brother a big hug, handing him a small bag of leftovers to take with him back to his university apartment. “Don’t party too hard this weekend,” he warns him sternly, sounding like a protective parent. “Behave yourself. Don’t make Fushiguro take care of you and Kugisaki again.” 

Yuji beams at him. “Megumi likes taking care of us! That’s his idea of fun!” He looks at you, a mischievous grin on his face. “You two behave yourselves too, alright? Don’t forget to use protection.” 

Shit. Okay, so maybe he does know.

Choso stiffens, an uncomfortable noise gurgling in his throat, clearly stunned by Yuji’s remark. You let out a loud and nervous laugh, desperately trying to play it cool, though you two idiots couldn’t make this any more obvious. “We’re just making castella cake, remember? We’re not having sex at all! Just some good clean fun here, nothing naughty! Right, Choso?” You’re so frazzled that you accidentally kick your boyfriend a tad too hard in the ankle, enough for him to yelp. “Right, Choso?!”

Sweat beads on your forehead while he bumbles incoherently now, failing to his explain your bizarre reactions to his younger brother, who just stands there, very pleased with himself. “Oh, I meant oven mitts,” Yuji smiles innocently, completely unfazed. “You know, for your hands.” He turns on his heel to see himself out while Choso continues to gape at him. “See you two lovebirds next week!” he calls out from over his shoulder, waving until he’s out of sight.

Choso unclenches to close the door while you bury your face in your palms, ashamed of yourself. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

He surrounds you in his sweet embrace, relaxed and actually laughing. “At least you said something. I just stood there like an idiot.”

You peer up at him, pouting at him. “You’re not an idiot, take it back.”

“I take it back,” he relents, giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

Nuzzling your nose to his, you mention, “I guess that was our way of telling him, right?”

“I had a hunch he already knew,” he responds. “Yuji’s no dummy. He was already telling me stuff a few weeks ago.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, he was the one who told me to be friends with you. He’s even the one who first suggested inviting you to our family dinners.”

Your heart swells in your chest. “Really?”

He nods, a kind smile on his face. “Yeah. Yuji is a sweet kid, so I figured he was just being polite. But maybe he sees you and me being…y’know.”  

You smirk, giddy to hear the rest of his sentence. “What?”

His voice is quiet, shy from the sudden vulnerability he’s displaying. “A good fit? I don’t know, what do you think?” Despite all that’s happened between the two of you within a month, Choso still has his doubts, his insecurities. The last relationship he had ended because he caught his ex cheating. From then on, he’s been reluctant to let his guard down and trust someone with his heart again. You don’t blame him for being so cautious when it comes to love, so you do everything in your power to validate his emotions, reassure him that you care for him just as much as he cares for you. 

You hold him close, your heart thumping at a rapid pace. “I think we’re a perfect fit.” 

He swallows down whatever nerves were tightening in his throat, relieved to hear you say it, even though he’s never doubted your true intentions. Hearing it in your voice, seeing it in your kind eyes gives him the strength to tear down all the walls he’s built around himself to let you in. Inching closer, voice still quiet, he asks, “Can we…?”

You don’t let him finish his thought as you lean forward to press your lips to his. His arms squeeze you in a tighter embrace, nearly lifting you off your feet as he kisses you passionately. Your mouths move seamlessly together, his hands gliding smoothly along your waist, yours gently caressing his face, proving that the two of you are the perfect fit indeed. There’s dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, a castella cake waiting to be baked, but who are you kidding? This is what you need right now, to have Choso’s body on yours, to taste him, to devour him, completely lose yourself in him. And that’s exactly what he needs too. 

The two of you make your way inside his bedroom, not letting the other go for even a second, kisses sloppy now, all tongue and spit. He’s quick to undress you, palms moving evenly beneath your blouse. You stretch your arms up, letting him remove it completely, his eyes fixated on your breasts, still covered by your bra. He squeezes at them, his grip firm, thumbs brushing across your nipples. Desperate to feel him without this extra layer of clothing, you turn around, wanting him to unhook the clasp, which he does. His lips graze you, peppering soft kisses along your shoulder while he pinches at your nipples with the perfect amount of pressure to have you moaning. “You love it when I play with your tits like this,” he whispers, mouth hot on your ear. It isn’t a question; he says it with confidence, bordering on cockiness with the way he smirks at every little whine that escapes you. You love this switch from shy and sweet to bold and unashamed, always eager to fulfill his sexual appetite for you. 

“I do,” you answer breathlessly, his cock hard and throbbing between your ass cheeks as you grind against him. “You know I do, baby.”

“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” he groans, sucking on your ear lobe. One hand travels past your navel, tugging at your waistband. 

Your crane your neck to meet his lips. “You’re my baby. You’re all mine, Choso.”

He moans into your mouth, lapping at your tongue. “Yeah, I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

You slide out of your pants, leaving your panties on, the silk ones he adores on you. On the bed, you lie on your back, watching him strip the rest of his clothes off while he towers over you, licking his lips when he positions in his head between your spread legs. He’s been indulging in this recently, eating you out through your panties, getting them soaking wet with his spit and your slick. His gaze meets yours, those typically kind eyes hiding something feral brewing inside him. He’s masterful with his tongue, spreading it wide on your clit, puckering his lips around you until you’re squirming. You grab hold of his head, grasping strands of his soft hair as he devours you. 

As if this wasn’t enough for him, he hums into your skin, pointing at the bedside drawer. He doesn’t have to say it; you already know what he wants. You’ve made it a habit now to keep a few of your sex toys at his place, including your most favorite vibrator, the same exact one you demonstrated for him when all of this first started. It soon became his favorite too. You pass it to him shakily, already at the edge, ready to burst any second. He takes it, holding the tip to your covered clit, the fabric properly drenched now. The vibrations start instantly as he pushes the button, causing you to jolt from the sensation. “Fuck!” you cry out, toes curling, knees wobbly. “Please, Choso.”

“Please what?” he teases, stroking his cock with his free fist. 

“Please take them off,” you beg, writhing below him.

He smiles wickedly, hooking the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them off you. “That’s my good girl.”

You kick them off frantically, immediately spreading yourself for him once more. “Hurry, baby,” you whine. 

With the vibe still buzzing in his hand, he leans down, giving you a wet smooch on your clit, then presses the fluttering tip to it. Pleasure radiates from your core to every limb of your body and you eventually reach your first climax of the night. 

“God, I love how fucking wet you get,” Choso moans, licking up and down your slit, savoring your orgasm. “So fucking sexy. Makes me want to come.” Precum leaks from the tip of his dick as he jerks himself faster, lips coated in your arousal as he continues to use the toy on you while drinking every drop of you up. 

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come again,” you say, trying to catch your breath. It’s both too much and not enough. The vibrations are relentless on your clit, his tongue hot and wet on your pussy. You’re drunk off this, head light as air, vision getting hazy. Drool spills from one side of your lips, losing control of your composure as you succumb to yet another orgasm, this time, with two of his fingers inside you. 

“So greedy,” he grins, his cock stiff against his abdomen. He takes his digits out of you, spreading your cum on his shaft. “You want more, sweetheart?”

You reach for his cock, desperate to have him fully inside you. “I want all of you.”

His demeanor changes at this, almost like you’ve said the magic words. He swallows nervously, stopping the toy and setting it aside. “Are you serious?”

You smile, nodding at him. “I want all of you, Choso. But if you’re not ready – ”

“I’m ready.” It stumbles out of his mouth in a rush, as if he’s been meaning to say it for a while now. “I want you. I always want you.”

“You have me.” You tug him towards you, wrapping your arms and legs around him, nuzzling your nose to his. “You’ll always have me.” 

He kisses you, humming softly against your lips. “You’re amazing,” he whispers, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. 

You twitch at his touch, already sensitive from earlier, but still so needy to be filled by him. “Hurry,” you beg him, gyrating your hips, losing your patience. 

“Condom,” he mutters, reaching towards your nightstand, eyes focused on how close his cock is to being inside you. 

You snap yourself out of whatever dangerous desires are playing through your head and nod in agreement, stretching your arm out to open the drawer, blindly retrieving the box of condom wrappers and small bottle of lube. With trembling fingers, he unwraps the condom, rolling it over his cock, coating a generous amount of lube on it. He eases inside you, both of you moaning as you stretch around him perfectly. When he’s to the hilt, he stays still for a moment, kissing you fervently, so happy to finally be connected with you like this. “Is this good?” he asks, always adorably concerned about you. 

You giggle, hugging him tighter. “It’s amazing baby.”

Reassured, he starts thrusting, pulling out ever-so-slightly to pound right back inside you. You squeeze every inch of him as he fucks you deeper, fighting the urge to come on the spot. It’s so damn good, too fucking good, like he’s on this euphoric high, impossible to come down. He can’t believe how incredible this feels, even with the condom on, and it makes him want to burst thinking about the near future when he’ll have a chance to do you without it. How pretty you’d look with his cum spilling out you. That fucked-out expression on your face as you beg him to breed you. The gorgeous belly when you’re pregnant with his baby...

Choso has to physically shake his head to rid these obscene fantasies from his thoughts. He really can’t help himself when he’s with you. Grunting with each thrust, he resists the temptation to pull this condom off to give it to you raw, reminding himself that patience is a virtue and that the two of you have all the time in the world.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to come. As soon as you’re right at the edge of your third climax of the night, you cry out, “Right there, baby! Fuck me right there!” holding him tight as you spill all over his cock. He comes as soon as you finish, certain that if you weren’t using protection and assuming you’re currently ovulating, he’d surely get you pregnant with how fucking intense this load was. Choso pulls out, carefully pulling off the condom, taking a couple of seconds to marvel at all the cum you managed to draw out of him. You laugh, watching him as he ties the open end to toss into the nearby trash bin. “Is it a lot?”

He snuggles up next to you, nuzzling his nose to your neck, back to his precious puppy-dog cuteness. “If we weren’t using protection, it would have definitely gotten you pregnant.”

You joke, “And is that a bad thing?”

He rests a hand on your stomach, his touch tender and sweet. “Not at all. I wouldn’t mind raising a little baby with you.”

Normally, you’d freak out. Normally, Choso would freak out. But for some odd reason, the idea of sharing a future together, of raising a family together, seems right. And while it’s only been a month, you’re both confident that the two of you will be spending a long, healthy, loving life with each other. 

Choso’s phone vibrates on the nightstand, rousing the two of your from your post-coital snuggle session. When he reads whatever notification he’s received, he chuckles, turning the screen towards you, displaying a text message from Yuji:

So…how’s that castella cake? ;)

He types up a quick reply before putting his phone on silent to spend the rest of the night cuddling you uninterrupted. 

Absolutely perfect.

[moni-logues]

Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

* * *

You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

*

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition post-Punk Hazard (part 4)

This one will definitely live up to it's title. The "love is a hurricane" tale continues~

Luffy again showing interest in what Torao is doing. This is already like third time he shows his unusual interest in him (and it will happen a couple more times in this post as well). He really wants to know more about him. Despite the fact he's usually sleeping through backstories of his own crewmates, like Nami. His unusual interest isn't because he doubts Law, we already know he deeply believes him to be a good person. No, this scene exists purely to show us how big and special interest Luffy has for Law. Luffy is also a bit concerned here, we saw the switch happen in Punk Hazard, from now on Luffy will also worry back for Law.

Someone's trolling Luffy here and it's not Usopp, lol. I wonder if this is how Law was as an older brother to Lammy, telling her fake tales just for amusement. He's a teasing older brother type, isn't he? And now all of that is directed towards Luffy. That's so sweet.

Luffy, you were supposed to tell them before, why are you telling them only now?! Take things a bit more seriously!

Law though is so displeased. Not only a hand was slammed into his arm (he secretly liked it despite everything), he was told to get along (he doesn't want to!), and Luffy disappointed him for not sharing about the alliance before.

But let's stop at the "get along" complaint for a bit. Luffy, you goofhead, you didn't introduce Law to your crew?? (and please, don't you know Luffy, ofc Luffy didn't do it "offscreen", this is Luffy we're talking about! He doesn't do introductions! At all!) Poor Law doesn't know their names! How is he supposed to get along with them?? You think Law would ask them about their names? Definitely not! Can you even imagine Law asking about anyone's name?? (yeah, I can't either lol) So to save up his face, he would have to utilize all that info he gathered beforehand (he already knew who they were all the way back at Sabaody after all!).

So he recognized Robin, Nami, Zoro, Sanji, Chopper (and so is able to call them by their names, tho it's worth noting Sanji being a special case and referred to by his title), but he didn't apparently know about Brook, Franky or Usopp (because they got called Bone-ya, Robo-ya and Nose-ya instead of their names+ya). Brook got recruited in Thriller Bark so there wasn't any wanted poster for him back then in Sabaody, so that's understandable. There was one for Franky already, but before timeskip Franky looked completely different so Law didn't recognize him. And...

wait for it...

He didn't recognize Sniperking as Usopp that's why he became "Nose-ya". Yes, the joke lives on! LOL.

Oh Luffy, you really don't make Law's life easier for him, do you? And this way Law got exposed that he did research a bit about the Strawhats before, enough to memorize them. (I mean not like Bartolomeo, but... but! It kinda looks a bit like that here, doesn't it).

Law will get back at Luffy in Zou for that, no worries. Now you will never see the "Law didn't introduce his crew" in any other light from now on, haha. It was a payback. Luffy didn't care tho lol.

You don't have to believe me on that one, but you can't really deny it does sound suspiciously consistent, doesn't it? :3

Law: Why is everyone telling me that?

Also Sanji, we appreciate it, but you're a little bit late with that warning there lol.

To be honest, I think Law is actually perfectly aware of that, but at the same time he wouldn't mind to be called a friend anyway. He only minds it now because he wants to keep his distance and not form any attachments on his way. And doing poor job at it too.

Luffy looks so happy sitting there next to Law, he looks like he's having the best time in his life. He's probably having a lot of ideas of what to do together with Law now that they're friends in alliance. (many of which would not be met with Law's enthusiasm probably lol).

Luffy: Did you just say dinner will happen 5 times a day from now on??

Luffy's level of excitement here is absolutely stunning. And one more thing very important to note: remember how Luffy usually acts when someone yaps a lot? He might for example ask Nami about something difficult, but quickly loses interest with the answer. He often sleeps through explanations. But here? Law's got his full attention! The one who is actually napping through this is Brook, not Luffy. Luffy thinks Torao is cool and he *wants* to listen to him.

Law, where are you looking? Clearly at your favourite Mugiwara-ya grinning over there. His eyes are always tracking Luffy.

A moment later Luffy turns to see Kin and Zoro fight. Do you all think he noticed Law staring at him right there? You two need to stop being so cute. I can't even believe Oda actually drew a scene like that in shonen, even if he didn't make it obvious. I mean, look at it, Luffy's eyes are shining, I bet their eyes met. I told you all that One Piece is a story about love. Omg I'm disgusted with how this scene tugs on my heart right now. To be fair, I'm not even the first person to notice that Law is staring at Luffy there, I saw people pointing it out before.

Luffy: Hey look Law, we're famous!!

Law: But ofc we are, what do you mean?

Luffy is again trying to get any sort of reaction out of Law directed just for him (did he feel encouraged after he noticed Law staring at him the day before?). Luffy, please, stop, this is getting more and more embarrassing to watch you craving for Law's attention like this.

Law though always gives him that attention, curiously enough. There's not even one frame of Luffy calling out to him and Law just ignoring him. Which shouldn't be surprising, Law always seeks out Luffy as well, rarely with words, but at least with his stares.

In this regard, they're a really good match. Luffy wants to be pampered, and Law wants to pamper. I would usually say it's gross, but it's actually really heartwarming. They both get something out of it that they were both craving.

Law: Hey, am I not providing you with enough entertainment? Forget those boring fellas!

Someone's a bit jelly...

And Brook is again watching over them. God, I swear, it feels like he just *knows*.

Again, Luffy listening to Law talking. He would listen to him no matter what Law is saying, wouldn't he? Luffy is known for his terribly short attention span, but for Law he is capable of unusual feats.

(Also notice Law is always grabbing Caesar by his clothes, never in direct contact)

Time for the ransom call. I know that everyone is screaming there, but Law is suspiciously quiet, this is when he should be firm and confident, but instead he's just standing there. I think it means he was actually pretty anxious about this call, kinda taken aback (and it's not because of people screaming around, he had enough time to get used to that with the Strawhats, also usually it doesn't actually faze him). Luffy on the other hand is excited and thinks this is all super fun lol.

And then Luffy goes and takes over the call. Of course we all think he did it just because he's Luffy and that Law is displeased/angry here, but let's do uno reverse. I might turn your worldview upside down from this point on.

What if Luffy actually sensed Law's anxiety and decided he will help him? Luffy is after all really good at reading people's emotions, right? And of course he would want to help his beloved Torao.

Law looks displeased, but that's because of a sudden closeness. Those of you that followed my series on Law's fear of touch and closeness know what I mean. He can stand Luffy when he's close to him, but not out of a blue like that - he needs to brace himself first. That's why his first instinct here is to try to move away. Sure enough, right in the next moment we see Luffy holding the transponder, which means Law lets him do that actually. If he truly was so displeased and angry, he would have reacted faster to take it back or shouted at him.

Luffy's fuming here for no reason whatsover, Doflamingo didn't actually say anything bad to him yet (or at all really). Sure, Luffy got mad over Caesar, but the conversation already changed to something else, and Luffy is still showing an attitude. He's doing it for Law, isn't he.

Law meanwhile is just standing there, still not attempting to take the transponder back. He's not even trying or talking at all. This really doesn't support the idea of "he's so mad at Luffy for doing this", it actually seems to be the exact opposite: he's kinda overwhelmed here and was ever since Doflamingo picked up his call. Ofc he's also more and more distressed now, bracing himself mentally, because he knows he needs to do something and can't leave it all up to Luffy.

Law realized he needs to stop it, because Doflamingo is trying to bait Luffy, and everyone knows Luffy is weak to baits. In a way, stepping up just to prevent Luffy from getting into dangerous scenario, helped him overcome his own helplessness and anxiety. Luffy meanwhile indeed is losing it lol.

Let's look more closely to Law and Doflamingo's conversation here. Law is trying to make the talk very short, down to business and finish it off quickly. Doffy though stays confident and even tries to mock Law a little bit. It's almost like he's saying "Law, kid, you forgot to show me that my subordinate is fine, you need to step up your kidnapping game a little", he's kinda having this patronizing vibe here. "First step of a ransom call, remember? I taught you that myself".

Putting it all together can explain why Law is so anxious, he expected to hear Doflamingo all devastated, angry even after giving up warlord's title, instead Doflamingo is relaxed, mocking and confident, generally acting like he has the upper hand here. Law is worried, did he miss something, because this is not how it should look like, and he is right. Also he can't stand Doflamingo's confident tone, it's most likely making him feel weak, remembering the past. In their fight in Dressrosa Law will try his best to overcome this feeling by mocking Doflamingo back, but right here he was surprised and unprepared. He probably felt again like a kid, still part of Doflamingo's family, and Doffy's mocking tone like a mentor/parental figure scolding his clumsy subordinate truly added salt to the wound.

Law grits his teeth and continues, attempting to finish the call as soon as possible, full of bad feelings. And this is when Luffy snaps back to reality, gasping and reminding himself "I need to help Torao!" and so he does, by doing actually the best thing possible: cutting off the call.

This seems not-canon to you I bet, but I truly think Luffy tried to actually support Law here and it DID work in the end.

Of course Strawhats don't catch up to it and think Luffy just straightup ruined everything, but look at Law's reaction here. He's suddenly calm and does not blame Luffy for anything, in fact, he goes as far as to declare this is all fine. Would he really say something like that if he was truly angry? No, of course not, we have seen him angry everytime he truly believes his plan was just kicked out of the window by a Strawhat Luffy. This is simply not the case here.

Law is still looking pretty anxious there, probably thinking over multiple scenarios in his head. What did he miss? Why is Doflamingo so confident? This is crucial, after all it's not only about his own safety, but safety of Luffy and his crew.

Luffy meanwhile shows his interest in Law again, wanting to know about Law's adventures. He's probably trying to make Law think of something else instead of overworrying, put his mind off of it. Luffy really sticks with his resolve here of taking care of Law as well.

Also it's ultimately cute how Law is mechanically correcting Luffy on the name of the island (helpfully pointing out only the part he got wrong so it's a shorter word to remember for Luffy, awww), but he does it without even an exclamation mark there. He's not angry or irritated about it. In fact, it just shows he understands Luffy has problem with long and complicated words. He probably knows that's the reason he became "Torao" as well. He gets it, he accepts it, in fact he has no problem with it whatsoever.

Even when distressed and lost in his thoughts Law makes sure to still respond to Luffy when he asks something from him, and Luffy this time uses it to bring him out of his thoughts instead of just seeking attention.

Luffy: Yay, so if Torao has never before been to that island, it means we will have an adventure together! And not just one, there's no way I will let you leave me right afterwards. We're so gonna do more adventures! Dressrosa and Wano! Two adventures with Torao!

Law: This isn't an adventure, be serious!! Our lives are on the line!!

Luffy: Breakfast time!

Law: Breakfast time! *gasp* fuck!

Someone got caught up in someone else's pace. 1:0 for Luffy, he did manage to make Trafalgar Law take a break from his worrying.

Now to understand Law's exaggerated reaction here as something more than just a comedy moment we need to first elaborate a bit on the chapter's title that sets the tone between Doflamingo-Luffy-Law interactions and honestly spans through the whole of Dressrosa arc. This is chapter 700 titled "his pace", the next round chapter is 800 which wraps up Dressrosa. Chapters with round numbers tend to have a huge impact on the whole storyline happening (because Oda really loves his number games).

"Pace" from the title means someone dictating how fast the events are going or swaying things to move in their preferred fashion. Doflamingo does it in this snail talk by playing confident and trying to bait Luffy and undermine Law's confidence. Later he also showers his subordinates with compliments so they will do what he asks them to do - that's also setting pace by keeping everyone in line.

Law's pace in this chapter (and in whole of post-punk hazard transition) was him spiraling the things to move where he wants them, his first snail talk with Doffy was just Law having an overwhelming victory over him. Then through the span of one night things move very fast exactly towards the result Law wanted (Doflamingo resigning from warlord's position). Law usually doesn't use his power of controlling pace to make people do what he wants (unlike Doffy), that's not his style, they're just forced to stick for the ride, but he always leaves liberty in their own hands. For example, when he told Luffy to kidnap Caesar or assemble back Kinemon, he didn't tell them exactly step by step how they should do it: instead he left it to their judgement. In other words, he tells them what to do but not *how* to do stuff, he instead trusts in their ability to figure it out on their own.

And then we have Luffy, who selfishly chooses islands they visit and what enemies they're fighting, so he's also "setting the pace" for others. He controls it to a minimum as well like Law, he just makes sure to take care of the biggest danger himself and trusts the others to do whatever they want, he gives them freedom. His crew do their best out of their own free will to deserve Luffy's trust, every chess piece on the board moves according to what they believe is right, so Luffy's board isn't actually a game of one vs one, but instead of one versus many, because every player has as much liberty as Luffy has.

In this chapter Law lost to Doflamingo's pace, but restored himself, and lost to Luffy's pace and this time declared defeat. Doflamingo won against Law, almost won against Luffy, but then Luffy defeated him in one neat swipe. And why? Because Luffy actually wasn't playing alone, Law and Luffy supported each other there. So in the end Doflamingo lost to both of them.

You think Law didn't take a defeat against Luffy here? Then let's rewind back:

Remember this scene? Law was amused that Smoker would even think that Law can overpace Luffy (after all Luffy punched Caesar instead of kidnapping him and did a feast instead of leaving immediately), but he wasn't going to always allow Luffy to do that. Here he declares he's gonna set the pace and make Luffy follow his plan. He does it because it's neccessary or he won't be able to protect him, but also because of his petty pride or "saving up face", if you prefer that term here. He's not gonna just sit there and let Luffy do everything he wants and wait for him to finish off enemies. Law is throwing a challenge, he's gonna compete with Luffy in that regard.

But before they even reach Dressrosa Law already declares his defeat. Let me show you how: remember how he always loses his hat when he's losing?

Like here. Or in Dressrosa, or Winner Island.

Wait, where's his hat here? And this is the next frame after Law's big comical "gasp" moment, when he got dragged into Luffy's pace of "enough worrying, time for breakfast!". Yep, he knew he lost there, allowed himself to loosen up and took off his hat by himself as a sign of his defeat and Luffy's victory. But that's also because he's just a good mannered boy who knows you don't eat with your hat on.

It truly is a 1:0 for Luffy and Law is actually okay with that (losing to Luffy's pace is actually not a negative experience, because Luffy doesn't manipulate people with evil agenda in mind, like Doflamingo. He did it only because he wants Law to relax). And this sets up how the events went on in Dressrosa.

Also can I just point out that all it took for Luffy to sway him was to declare with a smile "Yay adventure with Law! Can't wait! And now breakfast!" and Law was already dragged into his pace? I mean... Law, Luffy didn't even do anything special. He was just basically himself there. Law's so smitten with him that it's all it took, honestly. Of course the support he got on that call from him also counted into that, but Law didn't declare defeat then yet, after all he also supported Luffy back in that call.

In later arcs Law will still attempt to be petty about this ongoing "competition", not wanting to leave it all up to Luffy, lol. He migth have lost once, but the war is ongoing! He's such a petty loser, I adore that flaw in him.

Luffy butting-in, making sure Kinemon doesn't just steal Law away for the Wano adventure. Hey, I'm gonna be part of that adventure as well!

Law's attempt to stop him there is really miserable. He can't bring himself up to deny Luffy when he sounds so happy, huh. My heart can't take it.

Law's already back to worrying again haha. His neverending journey of worrying when together with Luffy continues! Let it never end honestly.

He's also conflicted, because everytime Luffy acts so excited he thinks back to Lammy, as she was the exactly same energetic type of a person as Luffy haha.

i don't think Luffy gets it that this time around he's only making Law worry more and not less, awww.

That's all for now. Dressrosa will come up next (I might take a break from this series to answer some asks first :D). I hope you enjoyed seeing this chapter through different lens, it's fine if you still prefer it as just a comedy moment of Luffy acting like a complete menace and Law regretting his life choices. I think it's neat that the manga supports actually both interpretations, one on more casual level and the other more in-depth.

There is something I want to share about World Seeker Law's dlc, it's not really a spoiler, just one line that Law says that relates to the previous part of this series of posts (if you want to skip it then just don't read from now on! There's nothing more to this post afterwards).

This is what Law says in the game. I know that games are not considered 100% canon, but Oda DID work on both World Seeker and Odyssey, and honestly many lines and overall feeling of the game goes along with the canon. Law's complicated relation to closeness is definitely a part of this DLC, for example.

And here he says he doesn't mind what people actually call him! He never complained about "Torao" when Luffy called him this way, not even once. But he does make this one sour face when Nami does that as well. Makes one really think why is this such a special case for him, doesn't it? :D Again, he wants it to be a special name only from Luffy, doesn't he.

[nrdmssgs]

I'm crazy and this is mainly based off my oc, but yn is prices adopted daughter that works with him, and the read is like 22-24 and price is supposed to be 45, and he kept it a secret because he's want to protect yn. I wanna see how the 141/könig reaction, can be romantic or platonic don't care lol, yes i know it's stupidly specific, but I'm stupidly specific.

The reader being Prices adopted daughter (part1)

Masterlist

Summary: you are Johns adopted daughter. This is how different members of the 141 find out about that and how they react.

AN: Hi! I'm almost through with this absolutely beautiful request! I've decided to split it into two parts, I really hope, you don't mind. I've kept it all really platonic and very comforting, and I just wanted to express my gratitude for such a wholesome request! Two important remarks: 1. My interpretation of your OC has turned to be a bisexual person. 2. The order in which the characters appear in the story does not affect their proximity to the main character in any way. This is simply the order in which the characters learned that she was Price's adopted daughter. She loves them all the same) I will, of course, tag you in the second part!!

There were four important names in your life. In your darkest hours, you kept repeating them in your mind. They were so much more than just colleagues, teachers, friends… they all were your family.

John

You were the oldest in your group in an orphanage. Others came and went, but not you. It happened so that you had to grow up ahead of time, get used to the fact that adults more often wanted to adopt babies. But you accepted this world and the rules. You never thought of it as some kind of noble mission, but you took care of your younger friends, worried about them, rejoiced with them. Whenever someone from your group left the shelter forever, you are separated from your friend, but at the same time rejoiced. Caregivers jokingly called you “the Keeper” sometimes, as you cared for other kids as much as a director of the orphanage. 

So when one day one of your teachers came up to you after class and said, "There's someone here who wants to meet you," and pointed to a man standing in the doorway, you were confused. The teacher led you to a stranger, and he squatted down so that your eyes were on the same level. "Hi. I'm John." He held out his hand, but noticing your uncertainty, lowered it and smiled warmly at you.

You hit it off quickly. John asked you a lot about life at the orphanage, about your interests. He himself turned out to be an incredibly interesting person: he visited all the corners of the world that you heard about on TV. John told you about jungles and canyons, about villages where all the roads were just small bridges thrown over the water, about ghost towns where it is so cold in winter that the steam from the mouth immediately turns into snow. Your stories seemed not that big to you. What is the story of how you and your friends fed a bumblebee worth compared to John's travels? You were embarrassed by this and quickly reduced such conversations to stories about your younger friends. What if he likes someone and takes one of them home?

“You seem to care for all of them dearly.” Johns looks on the horizon as you two sit on the bench. “You have it in you, kid. Willingness to help, to stand up for them. I see it clearly. Teach me to be like that, will ya?”

You look at him with big eyes full of disbelief. What can you teach him, an adult? Are you used to everyone teaching you something...

"I'm not doing anything special..." You look high into the sky above you. "Well, when any of them is very sad, I hug him with all my might. Maybe you can try to do the same and become like me?"

"Hug with all my might?" John chuckles. "Yes, Simon will be impressed..." But then he sees your worried stare and encourages you, "Hey, that's great advice! I'll try it. But I think, it's now time for you to have dinner, and for me to go home. Don`worry, kid, I promise to come in a week and update you on my progress!"

You do not believe that this man will return, so you try not to wait for him. Most often, adults come back for babies. You remember it. But he comes back a week later. Then he visits you again and again.

Then you end up visiting him. John has a whole house with a backyard! You build a bird feeders together, play board games late into the night, and even go hiking.

These are the best days of your life, and when it's time to go back to the orphanage, you turn your back on John and hide your tears, so he won't notice. "Hold on just a little longer, kid. I'll sort it out soon," he says, and puts a hand on your shoulder.

Whenever he takes you to his house, he gives you something: a plushie or a book or some clothes. But you never took those gifts to your orphanage because you were afraid that one day he would simply stop coming, disappear from your life, and all these trinkets would remind you of him. This little biter habit of yours broke Johns heart over and over again. You were still a child, but you were already afraid to get attached to someone.

One day he takes you back to his house once again. After an evening with cocoa and a board game, he hands you a simple envelope. "This is something very important. Take a look. I need your opinion on it." You are confused, but still open the envelope and start reading the document, that was inside it. You can hardly make out the text, overloaded with terms you are unfamiliar with. And then, little by little, understanding comes to you and the letters begin to blur before your watering eyes.

“Is… is it? I…” You try to say anything, but words fail you. So you jump off your chair and run to John. He barely has time to move away from the table when you do not even hug him - you cling to him with such force, as if your life depended on it. You've always tried to hide your tears in front of him, but now they're rolling and rolling down your face. John hugs you back and pats your head to comfort you. “It's ok, it's ok, I got you. You're gonna be ok, little one. We're gonna be ok. Not ok even - we're gonna be good. Together.” His voice is soft and quiet.

Simon

“I'll need you to take the mask off this time. Don't want you to scare anyone in m`house.” Ghost grants John a side eye and scoffs. “John Price lives alone no more?” John nods and continues to drive silently. Initially, Ghost was supposed to visit Captains house just for business, but now he is tormented by curiosity. “Someone trustworthy?” Ghosts voice is still muffled with the mask. “The most trustworthy person out there,” John smiles and Simon takes the mask off. Ghost enters the house before Price, who lingered at the trunk in search of something. Simon hears joyful kids voice. "John is back!" A girl of about twelve years of age runs down the stairs with a loud clatter. But when she sees Simon, she stops in her tracks. Price often leaves for some time, and she is already used to the fact that strangers often appear in the house: Johns relatives, acquaintances who look after the child while he is away. But Simons menacing appearance made her dumbfounded. She takes a tiny step back when Price's voice comes from the street. “It's ok, kid. This is mister Riley, he's my colleague and friend.” Both Ghost and the girl look at each other startled, not knowing what to say. John finally comes into the house and defuses the situation. "Look who we met on the way home," he says, and hands the girl a plush tiger cub. Her face immediately changes and she happily skips to John.

At dinner, she sits her new toy next to her and bombards Price with questions about his work and stories about what she has been doing in his absence. Simon looks from her to John and remembers how the captain stayed in his office until late at night, endlessly filling out some forms a couple of years ago. Ghost thought it had to do with work, but when he once offered to help Price with this paperwork, John refused with strange zeal. And now Ghost sees, what was it all about. And it all was hella worth it: she was the nicest, most well-behaved and happiest kid, Simon seen in a while. 

When they finished their dinner, the girl grinned conspiratorially. "Hey John! Guess what." And before Price could even react, she burst out impatiently and with ill-concealed delight: "I made your favorite dessert!"

"You? Or was it Aunt Meg?" John smirks and Simon realizes he's never seen the captain so happy before. "No, it's definitely me this time! She was just… looking out!"

Price walks into the kitchen and an awkward silence spreads across the living room. Although it seems that only Simon feels awkward - the girl stares at his tattoos with the most sincere interest. "Ehm, so you... love animals?" Ghost squints at the toy tiger cub. The girl smiles broadly and nods, never taking her eyes off Simon's arms. "Do you maybe… want to be a veterinarian when you grow up?" Simon continues this awkward conversation. "No!" She looks up at him and continues loudly, "When I grow up - I want to be a soldier like John!" The shrill sound of spoons and forks scattering across the floor comes from the kitchen.

“Soldier… I thought, kids in her age were supposed to want to become… I don't know, pop stars? Princesses? Figure skaters?” rants Price later that evening, when the girl is already sleeping and he and Simon are standing on a backyard. 

“She doesn't want to become any soldier. She wants to be 'a soldier like John'. You are her hero, Captain.” Simon chuckles, masking the fact, that he envies Price a bit. The undisguised delight with which the girl looks at John, her admiration for even the simplest, most trivial of his stories… No money could buy that.

Ghost visited Prices house throughout several next years, and every time he gradually became more comfortable around the girl. In some time, they could hang out together without any awkwardness. She brought her homework down to the big table in a living room and asked Simon to tell her stories about his work with John. Of course Simon tried not to mention anything too disturbing, but it was difficult, and the stories came out short and inconsistent. But she still thrived on them. “Seems like you are quite good at what you do!” She sounds almost as exited as when she talks to John. “Quite good? Lieutenant Ghost is the legend, kid,” comments Price, entering the room. Little do John and Simon know, this was the exact moment, that predetermined the girl's life for years to come. Now she had not just one, but two heroes and a dream: to become like them.

A few years later, which flew by for Simon like a few days, he and John were already present at her oath. Of the two, Ghost, who kept aloof from the others, seemed the calmer. John seemed to be worried about everything: because his daughter was one of the shortest in her formation, because of the bad weather and the fact that she was about to get wet, because of the form "which was of much better quality back in his time" ... But when she got out of line, when she began to recite the text of the oath, Simon shuddered inwardly. Price's daughter, this little dear miracle, who had been running around the house what seemed like just yesterday in funny pajamas, was reciting the oath... Ghost couldn't believe it.

And when she, with burning eyes and a happy blush on her face, ran up to them and saluted with the words "Captain, Lieutenant", Simon felt his eyes tingle. He left her alone with John so that they could share this very special moment. But a few minutes later he heard her hurried steps and she lightly squeezed his arm in a short friendly hug. "Starting your service with insubordination?" Simon scolded her, but in fact it was one of the brightest, happiest moments of his life. He never thought that someone else's adopted child could become so important to him.

Johnny

“Let go!” The fabric of Soaps T-shirt was stretched, and the seams began to crackle dangerously, ready to burst. "Johnny, cut it out!" - your voice echoed between the gray walls of the neighboring buildings of your base. You tried to work things out quietly, but with Soap, that's impossible. If he decides something, it's as good as done.

You try to hold him by force, but it's not so easy: to a greater extent, it's not your hands that clutched at his T-shirt that stop him, but the risk of ruining that T-shirt forever.

"Hey Soap! The hell is going on here?" Price's voice sounds so close that both you and Johnny flinch and turn around at the same time. "She's holding me by force! And you still ask me what happened?" Soap sounds fierce, but his posture shifts, and he unconsciously shields you from Price, who is looking from him to you. 

"Sorry, Captain. It's all right, the Sergeant and I were just joking." You answer, turning away from Price. But nothing ever escapes John. He walks around Soap, catches up with you and looks into your eyes. "You've been crying." It's not even a question, it's a statement. Price sees your reddened eyes, swollen eyelids. He also knows that you almost never cry. You want to be a good soldier so much, you look up to him and Ghost, you never let your emotions get the better of you. But if something brings you to tears... Something or someone... It's really bad.

“Gonna ask it once…” Prices eyes pierce right through the mask of dumb jolliness, you desperately try to put on. “What happened?” You try to come with anything, but your best shot just sounds pathetic “It's just an allergy, Captain…”

“Allergy my ass…” - Price walks around you and comes back to Soap. “Ok, Sergeant, let's see if you have anything better for me… Same question, I'm waiting.” 

You look at Soap with a mute pleading, but he does not notice this, his eyes are riveted to Price. “She was dumped today. I wanted to find the bastard and have a word with him.” Soaps voice is still harsh from your fight. You shut your eyes and let go of his T-shirt at last. Price slowly exhales. You know that sound. A quiet long exhalation, a harbinger of a storm. “Who?” - Johns` voice sounds cold and distant.

“Your guess is as good as mine. She doesn't tell, so I was heading to the barracks to find out myself.” Soap finally looks at you, his gaze is absolutely fierce, as if rejecting you was some kind of personal insult to him. 

Price turns around to you once more. One word is enough for him to express both a question and an ominous threat. “Name.” You shake your head, not daring to look up at him. 

John clearly doesn't want so sound menacing to you. And if Soap wasn't around, Price would already wrap you in a tight embrace to hide you from your own pain. But the fact, that someone dared to hurt, to reject you, his little treasure (and it doesn't matter, that the last night you turned 22), makes his blood boil with rage. Of course, he is overprotective as your father, but he believes, it's you, who deserves to choose partners, and they just have to be eternally happy and grateful for your attention. You understand, that your problems have just doubled up… Now both Soap and Price are waiting for you to drop the name, and every next moment of silence seems to only make it worse.

“I need the name, kid. Now, there won't be any fights, we'll just talk. Nice and calmly… And if that bloody moron just happens to slip and fall on the Sergeant's fist - I may not notice …” your Captains` voice was quiet, menacingly quiet. Johnny didn't look any friendlier, his posture was tense and his eyes - furious. You bite your tongue, afraid to say a word. “As you wish. Off to the barracks we head then,” commands Price, and they walk past you.

In a fit of desperation, you take off and rush after them. "Wait! There's no need to 'talk' to anyone, please... It was Sarah... from the office."

They both stop in their tracks and look at each other. This... changed a lot. Of course, they still care about you and want to help, but now, obviously, they will have to reconsider their plans. Soap looks completely lost, Price checks time and rises his gaze back at you. 

"In two hours, both of you. My office." Johns` voice is echoing in your head as they both leave you alone. It's hard to even roughly imagine what awaits you and why John also needed Soap. Perhaps the Captain just wanted to lecture you about relationships at work, and so he invited Johnny, who had several... similar experiences.

But when you and Soap meet on the threshold of Price's office at the appointed time, the captain silently nods to his desk with three empty glasses and a flask. The rest of the evening, these two vied with each other to tell you about different failures in their personal lives. At first you feel awkward, but gradually you relax. Some stories make you sigh sadly, others are so funny that you almost choke with laughter. Little by little, you're feeling less pain from being dumped. Yes, maybe you didn't get someone, you wanted, but you have John and Johnny, who are not embarrassed to tell you the most silly and sad personal stories, just to make you feel less alone even in such a situation.

When you leave Price's office, both you and Johnny's faces are flushed with constant laughter. He puts his hand on your shoulder and says: “Hey, don`ya spend y`tears on that dafty, ok? She lost more than you today! We'll find you a nice lass or lad, that papa Price approves of!” You almost fall over in surprise. Nobody but Ghost knew that Price had ever adopted you. Here at the military base, you and Price were just colleagues.

"What, you think m`blind?" Soap stops and stares at you. "The captain takes care of everyone in his own way, but arranging something like this... The last time, I was in a similar situation - the man just filled me up with paperwork so that I had no energy left for anything else." When he puts it that way, it darts to be obvious to you too: you may kept your secrets, but the way you and Price cared for each other was sometimes on the surface. “Johnny… I don't know, how to put it right, but we really try to keep it…” 

“Keep just to yourselves? Dinae worry, I get it.” He smirks. “Price is protecting you and so will I from now on. So, ma mouths shut.” 

And Johnny keeps his word: he never mentions how you are related to Price, never publicly reminisces about that evening at Captains office. And he also starts a whole operation to find and select the perfect candidate for you, but that's a whole another story.

[daisynik7]

The Apple of His Eye

Chapter 2: Friends In Low Places

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.9k

cw: alcohol consumption, drunken behavior, karaoke, our couple gets handsy, FLUFF, a few mentions of popular songs in the English language

Summary: You meet Nanami’s friends for the first time. Plenty of alcohol is consumed and you all end up at a karaoke bar.  

Author's Notes: This is the second fluffy side story for A Bento For Kento! I personally love karaoke myself, and I truly believe that Kento does too! I rewrote this to omit most of the English-language songs that I originally mentioned (I name-dropped A LOT before), just because I don't think they'd sing only these type of songs doing karaoke in Japan. Also, this is partially inspired by this Youtube playlist, which was one of the first pieces of fan-made media that got me into Nanami LOL. Anyways, thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/saradika.

Previous Chapter | The Apple of His Eye Masterlist | Next Chapter

Near the end of October, Nanami receives a call from Gojo. They talk and text often, but this phone call in particular is a special one. “Nanamin! How’s it going buddy?” Gojo’s voice is peppy, as usual.

“I’m fine. What is this about?”

“I’m taking Shoko out for an early birthday celebration tomorrow night. She wants to go to this sake bar she likes. You in?”

“Tomorrow night?” Nanami confirms. 

“Yeah. Oh, and bring your girlfriend too,” Gojo adds cheerfully. “I’d love to meet her. Shoko is curious too.”

Nanami makes a strangled noise in his throat before asking, “Why?”

His friend chuckles. “Because it’s been three months since you started dating and I still know nothing about her. I’d like to find out who your mystery woman is.”

“I told you. She’s Nakamura’s older sister.”

“Yes, yes, I know all about the bentos and love notes, blah blah blah. But I want to hang out with her, get to know her better! She sounds like an angel if she puts up with you.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! But seriously, bring her out with us. I already know Shoko and her will get along well. It’s only me she has to worry about,” he laughs mischievously.

Nanami tenses up, already annoyed at the type of shenanigans his colleague will pull out of his sleeves. “Gojo, I will not subject my girlfriend to any of your harassment.”

“I won’t harass her!” he whines. “Have I ever harassed any of your other girlfriends?”

“I’ve never introduced you to any of my other girlfriends.”

“Exactly. My track record is clean. C’mon. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

He takes a minute to contemplate. Introducing his girlfriend to Shoko isn’t the problem. He’s always had a respectable relationship with the laid-back doctor. However, exposing his sweet darling to the incorrigible Satoru Gojo…he shudders thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. Deep down, he knows nothing serious will happen. As much grief as he gives Gojo, Nanami still considers him one of his closest friends. However, he knows him too well; there’s no doubt Gojo will try to find ways to embarrass him in front of her. He finds pleasure in doing this, seeing Nanami’s face turn bright red after recounting one or several stories of their past together. 

He understands it’s an important step in any relationship to become acquainted to one another’s friends. He has already met hers, along with her immediate family. So far, Nanami has not introduced her to anyone in his life. His parents live too far to visit and as far as friends go, they are few and far between. Maybe this is a good opportunity to show her this part of his life. 

Eventually, he agrees. “Fine. Text me the details for tomorrow and we’ll meet you and Ieiri there.”

“Yay! Can’t wait. I’ll start making a list of questions to ask her. I’ll get Shoko to make a list too.”

Scowling into the phone, Nanami mutters, “I take it back, we’re not going anymore.”

“Kidding, kidding! Okay, see you tomorrow. Byeeeee!”

After they hang up, Nanami buries his face in hands. What did he get themselves into?

~~~

Saturday night, you and Nanami hold hands as you walk from the train station towards the sake bar. In your other hand is a small gift bag with a bottle of good Japanese whiskey that you picked up last night. Yesterday, your boyfriend informed you that you’ll be meeting two of his colleagues: Shoko Ieiri, who was his upperclassman at Jujutsu High, and the infamous Satoru Gojo. You’ve heard stories about this man, not only from Nanami, but from your brother Ren, who is currently Gojo’s student. Enough tales to have a vague idea of his personality. Playful, comical, a bit naughty, and constantly pestering your boyfriend. 

You have a strong feeling that the two of you will get along great. 

As you approach the entrance to the bar, you feel Nanami’s grip tighten around you. He turns to you with a clenched jaw and nervous look in his eyes. “I apologize in advance for anything outrageous Gojo does tonight. Please don’t think poorly of me after this encounter.”

You giggle, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Honey, don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic? I’m sure he isn’t as awful as you say he is. In fact, he sounds fun.”

He sighs. “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. Once we enter this establishment, there’s no turning back. We are essentially hostages under his control the rest of the night.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, but before you finish your question, he leads you into the bar, amused and now slightly spooked at your boyfriend’s ominous warning. As you weave through the crowd of people, Nanami seemingly knowing where to go, you recall yesterday’s conversation. 

After Nanami informed you about Ieiri’s birthday celebration, he mentioned, “It might not just be the sake bar. Since it’s Ieiri’s birthday, we may be out the whole night. Knowing Gojo, he’ll drag us all over Tokyo.”

Over the past three months of dating, Nanami would drop little hints about what he and Gojo would do whenever they hang out. He’s mentioned drunk karaoke before. Singing is definitely not one of Nanami’s hobbies, at least when he’s sober. Your man doesn’t sing in the shower, not even in the car. Personally, you love karaoke, so naturally, you’re curious and excited to see where the night will end up, especially with Gojo supposedly calling the shots. The thought of Nanami doing belting out ballads fills you with glee. 

At a table near the back, there is a pretty woman with long brown hair sitting next to a taller man with snow white hair. He wears dark, stylish sunglasses over his eyes, despite being indoors. They’re chatting, the man animated as the woman listens, pausing when the two of you approach them. “Nanamin! You made it!” Gojo stands up to pat Nanami’s shoulder, Ieiri greets you with a kind smile. 

“Hello, Gojo, Ieiri. This is my girlfriend.” Nanami introduces you as you shake their hands.

“So nice to meet you!”

“Glad to finally meet you too,” Gojo responds with a polite grin.

After formally greeting Ieiri, you hand the bag to her, “Happy birthday. I hope you like it. Kento told me you don’t like receiving gifts, but I figured this might be something we can enjoy together sometime.”

She eyes you curiously before reaching into the bag. When she pulls it out to reveal the liquor, she brightens. “Oh, I like you. I like her, Nanami. Thank you so much, I love it. We’ll definitely be drinking this sometime, maybe even tonight.”

“Tonight? Shoko, we just got here!” Gojo exclaims. “We don’t know what the night has in store for us yet.” As you all take your seats, he gives you a wink with that last statement. 

Ieiri recommends ordering the flights, which come with four different types of sake. She gets one for each person besides Gojo; she orders him a non-alcoholic Lychee beverage while he orders food for the table. As you wait for everything to arrive, you make small talk with each other. Nanami is quiet, which isn’t unusual, but you still want to check on him. Under the table, you reach your hand to his knee, giving him a squeeze. He wraps his fingers with yours, squeezing back, indicating that he’s fine.

The beverages arrive first. The four of you cheers to Ieiri’s birthday and drink. You are by no means an expert on sake, but this one is the smoothest you’ve ever tasted, going down like water. Ieiri finishes it fast, then grabs hold of the second, holding it up at the center of the table. “Ready for the second one?” she asks, raising her brow at you and Nanami.

“Shoko, aren’t you supposed to sip on it slowly?” Gojo hides a little naughty smile behind his Lychee mocktail. 

Suddenly, Nanami downs his sake and raises his other glass towards her. “Cheers, birthday girl.” She smiles and they both chug their second shot, easily. 

This is going to be an interesting night.

~~~

Satoru Gojo is no doubt a powerful Jujutsu Sorcerer. Arguably, the most powerful Jujutsu Sorcerer in the world. Nanami can confidently acknowledge that about his friend. 

However, Satoru Gojo possesses another power, unrelated to Jujutsu Sorcery. This power is constantly used on Nanami whenever the two go out together. For some reason, Gojo has this innate ability to get Nanami drunk.

Nanami still can’t explain it. Maybe it’s Gojo’s lively personality, or his friend’s dislike for alcohol that causes him to drink it all himself. The main reason is probably because it’s��fun going out with Gojo. Nanami can let loose around him. There’s no judgement; he can let go of all his inhibitions for the night. He knows Gojo will not think differently of him the next morning, even if he does tease him a little bit. Even with Ieiri can Nanami put his guard down. He knows these two quite well and feels comfortable with them. 

Since dating his sweetheart, he hasn’t felt any desires to get drunk with her. Being around her is fun enough sober; the idea of getting intoxicated with her has never even crossed his mind. But when he’s with his friends, he enjoys drinking. He has fun with them, especially when he loosens up a bit. And to be honest, he loveskaraoke. He’ll deny it like no other when Gojo teases him, but he can honestly admit that it’s one of his favorite activities to do. And the only way to get him to do it is if he has a few shots in him. 

He wants to show his girlfriend this side of him. He knows that like Gojo, his sweetie will not judge. In fact, he thinks she’ll enjoy seeing him like this. He’s curious about her too. What is she like when she’s tipsy? Does she like karaoke as much as he does? Will they take care of each other if they’re both hungover the next day? What song can they do a duet to?

On his last shot, Nanami starts to feel his cheeks warm up. Their food hasn’t come out, so drinking on an empty stomach is hitting him harder than he expects. He glances at his girlfriend’s flight, noticing she’s only on her third. Smirking, he teases, “Can’t keep up?”

“I’m not used to drinking sake! But I’ll catch up, don’t worry!” 

Her determination is cute. She is cute. He’s tempted to scrunch her adorable cheeks together and kiss her forehead, but luckily, he remembers he’s in front of his friends. 

“Don’t feel pressured to keep up with them! Believe it or not, Shoko can outdrink Nanami, and that’s saying something,” Gojo explains, casually sipping his juice. 

Ieiri, who has since ordered her second flight, raises a glass with a proud smile and downs it. “One of my many skills.” 

Nanami orders another flight just as the food arrives to the table. Gojo ordered a plethora of sushi and appetizers that looks delicious. Making sure to get some substance in his belly before he continues to consume more alcohol, Nanami fills his plate with nigiri, gyozas, and karaage. He glances over at his sweetie, who begins to wobble slightly in her seat.

“Honey, are you okay?” he asks her quietly as Ieiri and Gojo talk amongst themselves.  

“Of course!” She stuffs a piece of nigiri in her mouth, smiling. “Why?”

“You’re swaying a bit.” He brushes his fingers against her cheek, which is hot to the touch.

“Oh, I get like this sometimes when I drink. Doesn’t happen much with wine, but I guess it does with sake.” She shrugs, returning to her plate of food, unfazed. 

Gojo stares at them, smirking, “Nanamin, it’s cute how concerned you are for your girlfriend. Reminds me of that one time.” 

Nanami groans, throwing back another shot. “Oh great, here we go.”

“What time?” his girlfriend asks, her curiosity and delight so obvious. 

“Do you know that the reason I don’t consume alcohol is because of this guy right here.” He points to Nanami, for emphasis. “Back in our early 20s, Nanami wanted to test out how much liquor he could handle, so he made me take shots with him until he got good and drunk. Mind you, this was the first time I’ve ever had alcohol. Unfortunately, my tolerance is very low, so after consuming as many shots as him, which was ten at this point, I was pretty much shit faced. I couldn’t even stand up straight! I think I was talking in tongues or something and little Nanamin here got so worried, he was calling everyone about what to do. Poor guy was in tears, thinking he killed me.”

“I almost did. I still feel guilty about it to this day,” Nanami interjects.

“He made me swear off alcohol after that. Lectured me about how bad it is for me, especially. I think seeing me puke my guts out traumatized him. But it turns out, he was right. I think it fucks up some of my techniques, so I just steer clear of it completely. Plus, I think it tastes icky.” Gojo laughs with a wave of his hand.

Nanami’s girlfriend has a big grin on her face. “I like that story! Got any embarrassing ones?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty. Has he ever told you about the time I convinced him to go through a haunted house with me? Shoko was there too, she can attest to all of this!”

Nanami rolls his eyes, smiling. He continues to sip on his last glass of sake as they lean in close together to share stories and laughter. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he feels a pleasant warmth in his chest. Seeing the people in his life gathered like this is something he’s secretly dreamed about for a while now, and it’s actually happening. Before he gets too sentimental, he finishes the rest of his liquor and reaches over to stuff his mouth with another piece of sushi. 

Ieiri ends up ordering a third flight, but only gets through two glasses. She gives the remaining sake to Nanami, who is now tipsy. Maybe even close to being drunk. All he knows for sure is that he feels giddy. He rests his head onto his girlfriend’s shoulder, sighing. She giggles as she caresses his knee. “You good, Kento?”

Gojo, who is checking out for them, smirks. “I think he’s a little tipsy.”

“You’re losing your touch, Nanami. I still don’t feel a thing,” Ieiri claims. 

“Hey, it’s not his fault that your stomach is an unending abyss for liquor,” Gojo teases. 

Nanami mutters, “Let’s call it a night. I’m ready to sleep.”

“Oi oi oi, don’t even think about going home yet. The night is still young and there’s a karaoke bar down the street that’s calling for us.”

“We’ve also got an entire bottle of Japanese whiskey to consume,” Ieiri adds, holding up the gift bag. “Can’t let this bad boy go to waste.”

Nanami responds, “You can’t possibly be implying that we finish that whole bottle tonight, right? Shoko, that’s impossible. No way.”

Ieiri and Gojo grin simultaneously, staring at Nanami. “Someone is drunk,” Ieiri snickers.

Gojo faces Nanami’s girlfriend, who has been laughing the past few minutes, explaining, “Whenever Kento is drunk, he starts calling us by our first names. It’s actually quite sweet.”

“Shut up, Satoru. Leave me alone,” he blurts out.

Shoko and Satoru cackle as they get up from the table. 

“So, karaoke then?”

~~~

It takes less than five minutes to walk to the karaoke bar. You hear the bass bumping from the outside as Nanami holds your hand, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. As Gojo pays for a private room, Nanami leans in, whispering, “I love you, baby.” His mouth is warm against your ear, the sweet scent of alcohol lingering on his breath.

You giggle. “I love you too, Kento.”

“No, seriously. I love you. You’re literally an angel. My sweet angel.” He is just too cute right now. You laugh louder. “Kento, you’re drunk.”

“Maybe I’m a bit tipsy, but I promise I mean everything I’m saying. I love you so fucking much.” This man is going to be the death of you. You’re quite buzzed yourself, but you start feeling drunk off his affectionate words. You give him a quick peck on the cheek before Gojo leads you all into a private room. It’s dark inside, with only blue and purple mood lighting on the ceiling. Gojo stands by the karaoke machine, trying to get everything set up while the rest of you sit on the couch. Nanami slumps beside you and leans his head back. A waiter comes in with several glasses and a whole pitcher of water. Ieiri pours it into a glass and hands it to you, smiling. “We should stay hydrated if we’re going to be singing.”

You return her smile and give your thanks, taking a sip before passing it to Nanami. He shakes his head and declines. “No. No water. Need alcohol.”

Ieiri chuckles as you push the glass of water in front of his lips. “Just drink some water first.”

He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Don’t bother, Nanami is still stubborn even when he’s drunk,” Gojo comments.

You lean close to him, begging, “Please, baby? For me?” You slide your hand on his thigh.

With his arms still crossed, he opens his mouth as you tip the glass to his lips. You watch him take a couple of gulps before setting the drink on the table, satisfied with your tactic. Gojo chortles as he takes a seat beside Ieiri. “I stand corrected. Now, which song should we sing first?”

Nanami stands up, reaching for one of the microphones on the table. “Satoru. You know what song I want.”

“On it.” Gojo flips through the music catalog until he finds what he’s looking for, then enters a series of numbers on the remote. 

Ieiri relaxes into the couch, the same pleasant smile on her face. “Hope you’re ready for this.”

Interested and slightly nervous, you sit back with her to enjoy whatever show your boyfriend is about to perform for you. A familiar tune begins to play, and after a couple of beats, you recognize it as the song Rock Your Body thumping through the speakers. Nanami sways his hips side-to-side in tandem with the rhythm as he sings, “Don’t be so quick to walk away, dance with me! I wanna rock your body, please stay, dance with me!”

Gojo leans forward to look at you, yelling, “He always picks this as his first song! Always!” He also begins moving his body to the music while Ieiri nods her head to it. 

This might be one of the best things you’ve ever seen. Kento Nanami, your boyfriend, dancing and singing to a pop hit from the y2k era. No video could ever do this justice, so you just simple watch and enjoy with your own eyes. On the second chorus, he turns to you, a goofy expression on his face, tickling you under your chin, serenading, “I wanna rock your body, please stay, dance with me!” Gojo and Ieiri let out a loud whoop as you giggle, grabbing his hips while he continues to swing them in front of you. Gojo lets out a whistle as Ieiri cracks up. 

When the song ends, you all applaud as he takes a bow. Out of breath, he puts the mic down on the table and chugs the rest of the water in the glass before collapsing back into his seat. With the biggest grin, you exclaim, “That was so good, Kento! I’m so impressed!”

He gives you that same goofy grin as he slurs, “Was pretty good, huh? Should we take more shots?”

Before you even notice, Ieiri has lined up three glasses on the table and is pouring the Japanese whiskey. She delivers a shot to Nanami, who throws it back immediately. You and her cheers before drinking it. “Let’s do the next one,” she says, placing her hand on your back. “I know what song to do.”

You both belt out another pop hit from the 90s, singing and dancing while on the couch. Gojo chants along without a mic as Nanami bops to the music. Next, Gojo gives a dazzling performance of a classic 80s rock ballad, complete with all the theatrics, including an air guitar solo. After that, him and Nanami do a duet to an R&B song, which involves more hip swaying from Nanami directed at you. Gojo attempts a body roll towards Ieiri, who politely and firmly refuses before taking another shot. 

The room is buzzing with chaotic energy from sober Gojo and the rest of you drunkards. Ieiri’s composure begins to waver as she stands up to belt out Girls Just Wanna Have Fun with Gojo, who twirls her around the room until she promptly tells him to stop. “I’m going to yak if you keep spinning me, Satoru!”

They perform another song together, with Gojo hogging the mic as Ieiri tries to grab it from him, shrieking the lyrics loudly. “Shoko, there are other mics on the table! Stop trying to take mine!” he yells. She giggles, finally taking another mic to continue singing.

You and Nanami cuddle in the corner, unable to keep yourselves off each other, especially after seeing him sway his hips so many times tonight. As the other two sing, you and your boyfriend share sloppy kisses while hands roam over each other’s bodies. As you begin to unbutton his dress shirt from the top, you start kissing his neck, to which he lets out a loud moan. 

Finally being noticed by Gojo, he yells into the mic, “Hey, stop it you too! Gross!”

Ieiri lets out a shriek, also shouting into the mic, “Stop groping each other and sing another song with me!” she demands, beckoning you. 

Stumbling a bit, you get up to stand next to her, but Nanami’s grip is on your wrist, holding you in place. “No, don’t leave. Let’s kiss s’more.”

“Kento, I want to sing another song with my new best friend!” Ieiri whines. Gojo chimes in, “Me too! I want to duet with my new bestie!”

Your boyfriend grunts, eventually loosening his hold. With a big smile on your face, you walk towards your new friends and search through the catalog together, deciding on I Wanna Dance with Somebody. Nanami lets out a loud huff right before the music starts. They giggle behind their hands. “He’s so jealous. He wants to keep you all to himself.” 

The three of you prance around the room, singing, “Oh, I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heatwith somebody!” 

Nanami scowls in the corner with his foot tapping to the beat. You break out of whatever line dance you’re doing to approach him, bopping your head, trying to coax a smile out of him. His expression is glum, but you see his lips twitch slightly. You take his arm, trying to convince him to join you, which he refuses at first. Not being able to resist much longer, he starts swaying with you as you lead him to the dance party a few feet away. Gojo and Ieiri rejoice as all four of you start shouting the last lines of the song. With everyone panting like they just ran a marathon, you all mutually decide to do one final round to end the night. Gojo, who seems perky as ever, chooses another pop hit. 

“Shoko, record me.” She retrieves her phone as Gojo points to the camera. “Utahime, this is for you, babe!” As he continues to serenade the camera, not even needing to look at the lyrics on screen, you hear Ieiri chuckle under her breath. “She’s going to hate this.”

You and Nanami sit together, fingers interlocked. He nuzzles his face into your neck as he asks, “What song should we sing, honey?” He hasn’t had any more shots since the first one, so his speech isn’t as slurred.

“I don’t know, what did you have in mind?”

“I like that one song. The one you’re always singing to in the shower,” he hums. 

“Ha, so you noticed how obsessed I am with that song right now?”

“It’s cute. I like hearing you sing it.” He rubs his nose into your neck.

Butterflies flutter in your belly. Even after dating for a few months now, you still get flustered by Nanami’s sweet words. “Okay, let’s do it.”

When they finish, you already have the code for the song entered. A smooth ballad starts playing as you and Nanami stand up, ready to duet together. Ieiri squeals, “I love this song!”

Nanami performs the first part with enthusiasm, causing Gojo to heckle, “This is too slow and serious!”

“Shut up, Satoru,” Nanami scolds before he continues.

You explain, “He wanted to this one because he likes hearing me sing it in the shower!”

Gojo smirks, holding his hands up in surrender. “Got it. I’ll say no more.” Then, he whispers something in Ieiri’s ear. Whatever he mentions makes the other woman smile, glancing at you with a knowing look. 

After Nanami finishes the chorus, it’s your turn. From the corner of your eye, you see Nanami gaze at you lovingly as you sing, moving along to the music. You turn towards him beaming as you sing the chorus together, in sync. When it’s done, you receive a standing ovation from the audience. Nanami pulls you in by the waist and kisses you on the lips, resulting in even louder applause.

“Okay lovebirds, you can go home now. I’ve kept you hostage long enough,” Gojo laughs. He points his thumb over to Ieiri. “This one probably wants to go out to another bar and drink more.”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s my birthday and you’re treating. I’m taking full advantage of this.”

As you all exit the karaoke bar, Gojo approaches Nanami, patting him on the back. As the two men converse, you ask Ieiri in a hushed voice, “What did Gojo whisper to you earlier when we were singing?”

She smiles softly, replying, “Oh, that. He said that Nanami is whipped.” 

“Hey, Nanami is the one who suggested that song, not me!”

Before you can protest any further, she says, “He also said that he’s happy for him.”

That catches you off guard. You pause, not knowing how to react. She laughs. “Kento is rather smitten by you, and I can see why. You two are great together.”

Flustered once again, you respond quietly, “That’s really nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming out for my birthday. It’s always fun making a new friend.” She glances at Gojo and adds, “Expect a lot more invitations from this guy.”

You give her a big smile. “I can’t wait.”

~~~

Gojo wraps an arm around Nanami’s shoulders as they walk behind the other two, making their way out of the karaoke bar. “Thanks for coming out tonight, buddy. This was so much fun.”

“Thanks for the invite. It was a lot of fun,” Nanami admits, sober now.

“I really like her. Your girlfriend. She’s really nice and fun. Total opposite of you,” Gojo jokes. Nanami tries to shrug his friend’s arm off his shoulders to no avail. 

He continues. “In all seriousness, I’m really happy for you. You seem to be in a much better mood these days. I told you all you needed was to get laid!”

This time, Nanami successfully shoves him off as his friend laughs. Before he walks faster to be next to his girlfriend, Gojo utters, “You really deserve this, Kento. You deserve to be happy.”

He pauses to face him, looking at him with a small smile. His mind goes back to the conversation they had a week before he met the woman of his dreams. Nanami had voiced his concerns to Gojo about dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. He made up all these rules in his head, forbidding himself to date in order to protect his heart. Of all the people, it was Gojo who was the voice of reason. It was his best friend who convinced him to go for it. And it ended up being the best decision of his life. 

Nanami reaches his hand towards Gojo’s shoulder and gives it a firm clasp. His friend’s eyes widen, even hidden behind the stylish sunglasses. “Thank you, Satoru.” He doesn’t elaborate further. He knows that Gojo understands. 

Gojo’s lip quivers, either from amusement or sentimentality. Either way, he returns to his signature smirk almost instantly. “Let’s hang out again soon, okay?”

They say their goodbyes, Gojo and Ieiri turning to walk to another bar as Nanami and his girl head to the train station. On the ride back, she rests her head against him with her eyes closed. They stay like this in silence, listening only to the sound of the train gliding through the tracks. He entwines his fingers with hers, giving her a little squeeze. As much fun as the night was, these are the little moments that bring him to a state of pure bliss. He’s happy. Truly, utterly, irrevocably happy.

And he deserves it.

Taglist: @moonmalice @bloombb @strawberry1042

[muffinsin]

Hey hey. How do you think the sisters would react to a s/o who gets hurt stupidly? Like for instance and totally not based of off anything irl, one who accidentally stabbed themself while trying to cut a carrot? You obviously don’t have to use that, it was just an example lol. Also, your posts are kicking ass in my mind. You’re an amazing author and a great person!

Wheepsies hoping this will gemme out of my writer’s block again XD time to catch some zzz’z

I’m glad you like my posts! :D thank you, you’re a great person too🙌

Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

Bela

You don’t dare meet her golden eyes as she takes the lid off the blue cream container

Still, you know they’re set on you

She’s silent for a moment, as though processing your words after you explained how you sustained these injuries

Nothing major, really, just a few scratches on your knees and legs, and a scratched open chin when you made friends with the floor

You watch her index fingertip dip into the cream, and hiss when she gently smears it across your bruised knees

It’s cold, but comfortably so. Like Aloe Vera cream, you think

She’s gentle with her movements, precise and calm

You know, she was freaking out immediately when she found you on the floor of the main hall, clutching your knees tightly because they burned so much

Now, with the cream covering the red bruises, they hardly still sting

Her touch is so soothing, so calm and soft, you almost feel lulled to sleep

Your eyes close for a moment, too comfortable and just right and cozy in this moment

“So let me get this right…”, she hums

Your eyes open up again immediately

You bite your bottom lip, nervous, and still don’t dare look at her golden eyes

You wonder, though. Are they scolding? Are they mean? Are they playful?

Bela can be so intimidating at times!

…even as she is literally kneeling with you sitting on the bed in front of you, her fingers gently applying cream to your sore knees and legs

She’s so gentle…yet you feel so embarrassed for getting hurt in such a way

It’s a little silly, and so you feel the tips of your ears reddening with a warm blush even as she recollects what you’ve told her

“So…you raced down the stairs…with a sledge…because Cassandra said it’s just like racing down a snow covered hill?”

You gulp

You don’t think you have the strength to answer her. Bela sounds so stern…

You feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment

“And you fell off the sledge…rolled- down the stairs- and hit your head on the floor?”

You gulp again, her light fingertips suddenly feeling so hard

You feel her apply some cream to your other knee

“Draga, you realize Cassandra has never ridden a sledge?”. She sighs, and tips your head up

She leans close, and for a moment you think she’ll kiss you, and you smile eagerly

Instead, she focused on the small scratches on your forehead and wipes some of the cream over it

You whine, which catches her attention

With a roll of her eyes and a fond smile, she kisses you

She tips your head up again, your eyes at last finding golden ones

She looks at you, a playful smirk on her lips

“Don’t let me catch you do something like that again”

Cassandra

She’s staring at you- no, not merely staring

Glaring

“Good morning”, you whisper nervously, even though you know the clock reads 3:29am

Cassandra eyes your finger, and groans at the blood that runs down your index fingertip

“Why would you poke my fangs?”, she grunts out, a long and loud sigh passing her lips when you shrug

“Stay.”, she groans, her flies buzzing in irritation as she rises from the bed and retrieves bandages

You can’t help but grin to yourself; Cassandra is such a grumpy bug when she’s woken up

Still, she looks adorable with the frown on her face and her hair uncombed and rough looking from twisting and turning in bed

She licks her teeth clean subtly, a small smile coming to her lips when she tastes your blood in her mouth

She huffs as she sits back on the bed, her golden eyes blinking tiredly at you

You’d think a predator like her is ready to be up at any time, ready for whatever

Clearly not. The brunette is eying her pillow yearningly

You hiss a little as she licks the blood from your finger and sucks the wound clean, never one to pass up on a snack

“Help yourself…”, you mutter, yet only blush and look down at the bedsheets when golden eyes glare are you

“T’is the least you can do…after wakin’ me…”, she mumbles

Again, you almost laugh a little. It seems your girlfriend is one grumpy little thing in the morning at night

Still, with care and precision, she works on wrapping first a small, then a slightly bigger bandage around your finger

Soon, you feel the bleeding stop and even the stinging pain is reduced again

Thankfully, you haven’t cut yourself too much, just enough for your fingertip to bleed

“Will you now give me an explanation as to why I’m waking up with your finger in my mouth?”, she asks again

You force yourself not to smile. Her flies are buzzing in irritation and it’s adorable to you

You shrug again, and at last can’t fight the small smile that makes it to your lips

“I wanted to feel how sharp your teeth are”, you simply reason

Cassandra rolls her eyes at this

Naturally, they were sharp as blades. She makes sure of that, after all, each day

“Next time this happens, I’ll bite your finger off”, she warns

Really, it’s a surprise she didn’t automatically bite down upon feeling you prod her tooth

With a final adjustment to your bandaged finger, swarms back under the warm blanket, her butt wiggling as she basks in the warmth, her eyes closing contently

Well, for a moment anyway

You watch her get comfortable yet again, and stare wide eyed when golden eyes open to look at you

“Are you gonna watch me sleep next?”

At her statement you quickly lay down as well, chuckling as she rests her head on your chest

For a few moments, it’s quiet

Still, you can’t refrain from asking:

“Do you think it’ll scar?”

“I should hope so…”

Daniela

She smells your blood, even rooms away, and is immediately on her way

As she calls for your name, your face flushes pink

This is going to be embarrassing…

“My love! Are you all-right? What happened?!”, she gasps, her hand grasping yours, the other holding your injured one

“I-uhm”

Daniela raises an eyebrow

She notices, no one else is in the kitchen. Just you, a cutting board, a large knife, and a carrot

You grit your teeth as you see it

Maybe you’re losing it, but you could swear it’s mocking you!

Her head pulls back a little as she seems to understand

“You cut yourself?”, she gasps, sweet, bright eyes widen at her discovery

You wince as she grasps your hand tighter, the blood flowing from it

Immediately, she presses a stack of napkins against the wound

This makes you hiss again, and has her golden eyes set on you apologetically

“My poor, sweet love…”, she coos, and you can’t help but grin at the small kiss that’s set to your chin.

She’s fast to drag you with her, your uninjured arm grabbed to tug you after her

“It’s really nothing!”, you insist, despite the throbbing pain in your hand

Maybe it’ll heal on its own? You don’t want to get stitches, you really don’t

Daniela is fast to explain the situation to the castle’s doctor, her hand moving to your back to steady you

For a moment, you feel lightheaded

Then, you’re sat down

Daniela holds onto your uninjured hand as the woman moves around you, collecting this and that you have no idea about

Thankfully, you haven’t had many run ins with the castle’s doctor yet

Still, she seems kind, and skilled

Using a lollipop as bait, she gently guides Daniela’s hands from you in order to have a better look at the injury

You whine momentarily as she cleans the wound, and groan when she already reaches for a syringe, then a needle

Of course…

At last, a kiss pressed to your cheek cheers you up again

“My brave little human”, she coos

Daniela nearly plops down on your lap, as if forgetting your injuries and where you are

A pointed stare from the woman has her stand straight again

“Perhaps, you could bring some water and a snack, Lady Daniela?”

You smile when the redhead immediately follows the sweetly spoken command and buzzes off

You gulp as you look at the woman in front of you. Her reassuring smile does little…

Shortly after your head stops throbbing and the pain starts to fade at last, Daniela returns

The bright smile on her face is enough to make you grin back at her from your position on the chair

“I’ve got you something that’ll cheer you up!”

You don’t know whether to laugh, scoff, cry or groan when Daniela holds out a plate with neatly cut carrots on top

“I brought you your snack!”

[alwaysthefool]

Melting (like an Ice Cream) Part 1

Tags: Fluff, Reader is a bit over-enthusiastic, gender neutral

Warnings: unemployment mention lol, ultra embarrassing reader like 2000s rom com protagonist level embarrassing

Synopsis: You don’t want to lose your job as Chuuya’s assistant because it pays well. Multi part.

Chuuya sighed as he looked down at the document assigning him a new secretary after he rejected the previous few. He simply didn’t want one, but it was mandated for someone at his position. Plus, Mori wanted him to have a reduced workload. Considering Chuuya was too busy to attend the interview process, Mori personally selected whoever was most ‘enthusiastic’ rather than someone with experience or qualifications.

And that person was you.

Green but willing to do whatever to make this job stay. You were told your boss was a little cold and transferred others who were under him. It was stupid to take a job in the mafia but the current employment situation left you no choice. The pay was really good, and it wasn’t like you’d have to off people, at least that’s what the job description said. You just had to make reports, and help out the guy who did off people— one Chuuya Nakahara, and that too in the office. *

“This is going to be a piece of cake!” You chimed as you entered the Mori Corporation building, a very sophisticated mafia front business dealing with shipping ‘items’ overseas. You stood out like a sore thumb with a bright face as you swiped your employee card to enter the elevator area, pushing the button and greeting everyone there. Your previous job taught you to be nice to everyone because you never knew when you’d need someone’s help, but looking at how no one returned your greetings, you felt like perhaps it had the opposite effect here. You stared down at the document you prepared, reading your new boss’ schedule, wondering if you should’ve gotten him and his team coffee since you were early anyway and he didn’t have anything in store for the day.

As you reached your floor, you felt like people made snide remarks right as you stepped out the elevator. Hopefully it was just your imagination. You walked to the executive’s room, knocking on the door.

“Come in.” His sharp voice echoed.

You took a deep breath, put on your most professional smile, and opened the door, cheerfully introducing yourself. He looked up, a little surprised, then looked down again. “What are you so happy about?” He mumbled. Is everyone at this place this way?

Still, that wasn’t enough to set you off. “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

“Chuuya’s fine. Do whatever you want, just get off my ass.”

You blinked at his words, excusing yourself as you exited the room and made your way to the adjoining office where you found a few people working away on files. Oddly, there were no windows, and the lighting was too dim, despite which a blonde woman wearing sunglasses typed away rapidly. You sat on the desk beside her, where a note was left for you telling you to take the day off.

“But it’s my first day?” You spoke out loud.

The blonde woman beside you stopped typing, making the room eerily silent and said “You must be Nakahara’s new assistant. Well, enjoy your week off.”

“Wait, what?”

“He doesn’t really need- well, want an assistant but the boss’ wants him to try them for at least a week. They- well, you will be let off with a week’s pay.”

You couldn’t accept that. You needed that job, even without insurance, the pay was too good to pass up.

I just have to prove myself as an indispensable employee so Chuuya can’t fire me!

You devised your plan as you introduced yourself to the blonde woman named Higuchi, who too had a strict boss but somehow still held her job. “Miss, do you know which car belongs to Mr. Na- Chuuya?”

“Oh, you’ll know when you see it.”

You looked at the schedule and rushed downstairs, again greeting everyone on the elevator to no response. You ran out when you reached the lobby, greeting an old man at the entrance gate, who actually greeted you back.

It didn’t take long to find Chuuya’s car. A mahogany sports car, with a foreign number plate and tinted glasses, no car being parked near it. You walked to it and looked under it, checking it for explosives and the like, just stuff you’d seen in action movies.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A sudden, irritated voice spoke from behind you.

“Checking your car for explosives?”

Chuuya sighed, pinching his nose bridge. “Headache in the morning.” He spoke under his breath, probably to not let you hear him, but you did as even his whispers were just naturally loud.

“Uh, sir-“

“Chuuya’s fine.” He repeated.

“Let me open the door, so if there’s an explosive, it doesn’t detonate on you.”

He rolled his eyes, holding your arm lightly to move you away. “All the more reason for me to open it.” He pressed a button on the keys he was holding, and the door opened upwards, in true sports car fashion. Before getting in the car, he looked to you and said “Look, I’m sorry for being rude in the morning. I’m just tired of… I don’t need an assistant. You can spend the week at home and you’ll be compensated for it. I checked your records, you’ve never been in an organisation like this before, right? Trust me, you don’t want to be here. Just go.”

He didn’t meet your eyes, but bowed politely and got in. You moved further back to let his car go.

Your new boss actually seemed nice, but seeing the job market, you did want to be there. No where else would hire someone with your experience, references, and grades at an actually liveable price. Even if you transferred to other jobs in the mafia, you didn’t think you’d be able to handle the field work they do. Accounts, budgeting, making spreadsheets and schedules, planning meetings, picking up someone’s laundry or morning coffee— that was fine by you. So you slowly walked back up, using the stairs this time so as to not meet anyone, going back to your cubicle beside the blonde woman who was still typing away rapidly.

Everyone around you was too busy to engage in conversation, and you wondered what you could do. Maybe meet with the people who hired you in the first place to ask them for— no, they were literal gang bosses, you reminded yourself. You stood up and went to Chuuya’s office, which you were given keys to.

Maybe I can clean up?

You hoped dusting didn’t count as snooping. You pulled your sleeves up and started cleaning the windows with a dust cloth you obtained from the janitorial closet. You dusted the curtains, vacuumed the carpet, wiped the table, even removed the cobwebs from the corners of the room. There was nothing more to do except organising the files, but you also didn’t want to be yelled at. You looked outside the window, watching clouds cover the city skies.

Did Chuuya have an umbrella?

You luckily carried one in your bag, owing to the unpredictable weather of the summer months. You went down, waiting at the parking lot. Sure, doing so much looked pathetic but being unemployed was even worse. As it started raining, you opened the umbrella and wondered what more you could do.

Luckily, Chuuya’s car arrived soon, speeding too fast for that weather. You rushed to his door with the umbrella.

“What the fuck?” He seemed confused at you holding the umbrella over him as he opened his door.

“Um, I didn’t think you had an umbrella?”

“I don’t need one. You use it.”

You watched in awe as he pushed past you again, the raindrops gravitating off him. Of course. Why didn’t you think of that?

You followed him, leaving your umbrella in the holder at the entrance. People stopped to bow at him as he walked past, and even greeted him at the elevator. It was then that you realised respect at the port didn’t come from being polite and making connections, but the kind of work you did. You had to take the same approach to get Chuuya to not fire you too.

You rushed out the elevator and opened his office door for him, which made him chuckle a little. “I should be opening the door for you, don’t you think?”

Everything he said was just so charming, almost kind. At the same time, he just seemed so intimidating and unapproachable. Something out of a dream.

You were lost in your thoughts and did not reply, or even notice his reaction to his office. At that moment, where he just stared in silence, you felt terror overcome you. What if he assassinated you there and then because you cleaned his room a little? What if the mafia executed in their style on the assumption of you being a spy?

“Hey, you cleaned up my office. Looks good.” He spoke unexpectedly, handing you his coat. You took it and hung it on a rack.

“Thank you, so much.” You were breathless. “I didn’t touch the files or cabinets because-“

“No need’ta be so nervous.” He seemed more friendly than he was in the morning. “You did good. You can organise the cabinets if ya want.”

Everything was too surprising. You wanted to be a strong employee and butter him up a bit more, but everything felt overwhelming. “Should I get you coffee?”

“No, I’m good with wine.” You resisted the urge to ask what he was doing drinking so early as he poured himself a glass. You were about to leave when he asked you something that would be the start of both your lives changing.

“Hey, would you like a glass?”

[mangowillow]

how you shine for me

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: you and jungkook finally take that next step, that next milestone in your relationship: moving in together.

genre/tags: established relationship, fluff, moving in together, humor (that i failed badly at)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i wrote this as a comfort read for a friend who went through a rough time, hence the attempt at humor. i also wrote this for myself as a way to grieve the passing of my pet lab of 10 years. who knew one could write such a bad comedy lol

With a huff and a grunt, Jungkook placed the last box on the floor. He looks at you, the love of his life, laser-focused on examining different picture frames from a different box, other contents piled in front of you on the carpet.

“Okay, I think that’s the last of the boxes.”

You looked up and gave Jungkook his favorite sunny smile, “You must be tired, baby. Sit down first.”

Jungkook did just that and took a long look at you. You were smiling at the picture frame you held in your hands.

“Do you remember the day we first met, Jungkookie?”

“Of course I do, love. You were instantly whipped for me, I could tell.”

You threw daggers at him with your eyes. Jungkook’s lips curled into a small snicker.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who was whipped for me,” you pouted. God, how Jungkook loved seeing you so cutely dejected.

“Yeah, if you count that time I had to carry you to Hobi’s car because you were too drunk to walk on your own two feet.”

“We were at a party, Jungkook. We were supposed to drink and have fun,” you defended.

“And you are a very graceful person when drunk. You even told me… what was it?”

Your lips parted, watching Jungkook recall what it was that you said during your drunken state five years ago. But you knew all too well that Jungkook didn’t forget. He never let you forget.

“Don’t say it, I swear–”

“I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid, so… I like it. Can I touch it?”

You threw Jungkook a scrunched-up silk scarf that was right beside you. Jungkook tried to hold his giggles as he caught the scarf with his hand.

“And do you remember what I told you, babe?”

You groaned as you hid your face in your hands.

“You should really learn how to hold your liquor, ___,” Jungkook sing-songed.

You were turning beet red while Jungkook was reveling in your embarrassment. Loving you with all his heart will always be his first priority, but teasing you came in close at second place.

“I never should’ve asked you in the first place, you’re so annoying.” You went back to gathering the rest of your picture frames.

Jungkook leaned in to peck you on the lips, “And you love me,” before kissing you once more on the cheek.

“I do love you, you dork.” you smiled.

“Good. Okay, rest time is over, put me to work, ___. Which of these boxes do you want me to attack first because this whole thing,” Jungkook moved his arms in a circular motion, referring to the assortment of boxes and items all over the floor, “Does not spark joy at all.”

You chuckled as you asked Jungkook if he could start putting up the paintings on the walls.

After a year of dilly-dallying and dating, you and Jungkook decided to take the next step of commitment and have been in a relationship for the past four years. It was only recently that you both decided to move in together because money had been hard to come by. When Jungkook got promoted at his office job and you started earning more since your online business kicked off, you both started saving up for a home of your own, no questions, no doubt.

Until hard work paid off.

Apartment hunting hadn’t been easy because the cost of living in Seoul wasn’t too friendly and you had to compromise on your wishlist here and there. When you and Jungkook stepped foot into the apartment you now both own, Jungkook knew it was the perfect one; floor to ceiling windows, a small electric fireplace, and a bathtub, which you really wanted.

Before arriving with the movers, Jungkook saw how you were full of giddiness at finally having a place to call home. A shared and private space with the woman he loves the most, the cause of his euphoria– Jungkook couldn’t ask for more.

After arranging the picture frames, you started to unpack bathroom essentials.

“Hey, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook with his tongue slightly jutted, was concentrating on hanging the last painting, “Yeah babe?”

“Promise me to never leave the toothpaste cap open? I heard the strongest couples can’t handle that.”

Jungkook chuckled at your candidness, “I won’t, I promise.” He saw the ghost of a smile pass through your lips before he watched you walk to the bathroom with a box of toiletries in your arms.

“Do you need some help?” Jungkook offered

“I got this, babe. Thank you for putting up the paintings,” you gave him that smile he fell in love with the day he met you— serene, calm, reassuring.

You and Jungkook spent another two hours moving stuff into different corners of the apartment. After doing a few kitchen repairs, Jungkook finally arrived at the last box. Inside was an assortment of candles and bath bombs– your favorite items. Since Jungkook was very particular to different kinds of scents, he also had a higher tendency to become allergic to overpowering ones. Thankfully, you had a particular taste and are almost a creature of habit because you almost never change your preferences. Jungkook made a mental note to buy you a new jar of your favorite Diptyque Baies Candle the next time you go out shopping because the one you had now was almost running out.

“Babe, where do you want me to put–”

When Jungkook turned around to face you, he saw you curled up on the couch, fast asleep. You had an arm tucked underneath your head while the other hand loosely held a small duster that was about to fall to the carpet. Jungkook quietly walked over and knelt beside you. He pushed away a stray strand of hair that fell over your eye as he whispered, “Adorable.”

Jungkook carefully carried you bridal style to the queen-sized bed in the bedroom, the one he hopes you both share the rest of your lives. Not being able to resist, Jungkook joined you on the bed and pulled you towards his chest. You slightly stirred and groaned.

Jungkook whispered, “Sleep well, my love,” and before he knew it himself, his eyes drooped, and fell asleep cradling you in his arms.

Sleeping with you in his arms is always Jungkook’s favorite part of his day. After long, mundane days at his corporate job, all he wants is to come home, eat ramen on lazy nights while watching bad reality TV, and sleep. Since he met you, nights have become more interesting. Jungkook now has someone to eat ramen with, plus you make a mean kimchi and cheese kimbap. The sex was always mind-blowing and the loving whispers in the night and cuddles that came after are both your guilty pleasures.

The warmth of your body, hair that smelled of white strawberry and sweet mint shampoo always lulled Jungkook to sleep. Knowing that you were safely tucked in his arms made him feel that the world was his for the taking– comforting, quietly powerful.

You stirred as you slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the surroundings. You were fairly sure that you fell asleep on the couch and the closet in front of you certainly wasn’t the fireplace.

The moment you realized you were in literal darkness, you suddenly sat upright on the bed. You tried to feel around the bed for your phone, but you remembered yet again that this wasn’t the place where you fell asleep. Another realization dawned on you as something hard and warm made itself known, but you couldn’t make out what it was. It? Damn your eyesight for being such a nuisance.

Jungkook was still asleep beside you. He stirred a bit when you tried to shake him awake. For once, you were grateful Jungkook had always been a light sleeper.

“Baby, it’s dark outside,” you hissed.

Jungkook shifted, squinting as he lifted his head to look out the window. With a plop, he allowed his head to sink back into the pillow once more.

“I can see that, baby. The night usually comes after the day,” Jungkook stated matter-of-factly, sleep evident in his voice.

You smacked the side of Jungkook’s leg, “It’s dark outside, you brat–”

“Hey, ow! Why’d you hit me? I was only stating a fact,” Jungkook forced himself to sit up and rubbed his eyes, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you responded, folding your arms.

Jungkook grabbed his phone that was on the nightstand and checked the time: half-past one o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, it’s the middle of the night,” Jungkook stated. You leaned over to check the time on Jungkook’s phone before smacking him on the arm.

“Ow! What did I do now?”

“I can’t believe we fell asleep. How long were we out? How did I even get here?”

“Well, let's see, you fell asleep around noon and I carried you to our bed because the couch looked uncomfortable. Geez, you’re so cranky when you wake up in the middle of the night– not that you often wake up during this ungodly hour but–”

“How can I not be when we missed dinner? We overslept–”

“And it’s not a big deal, love. We were hauling in so many boxes all day. You were tired, we both were. Besides, it’s now Sunday. It’s our rest day,” When Jungkook saw you pout, he chuckled.

“What?” you asked.

“Are you seriously upset that we overslept?” Jungkook teased.

“No, it’s just that–” You sighed, letting his arms fall to his lap, “We missed dinner and I think we weren’t done unpacking everything yet.”

Jungkook fondly chuckled once more before wrapping his arms around your torso and kissing your temple.

“Silly baby. We unpacked all the boxes already and there’s only one left to unpack. We can do that tomorrow. As for dinner… that one I’m not so sure about. I don’t remember packing any food for the fridge yet.”

“Yeah, that’s because we were supposed to do grocery shopping after we unpacked all the boxes.”

“We can do grocery shopping in a few hours.”

“But we don’t have anything to eat right now,” you said and right on cue, you both heard a stomach growling.

Jungkook grabbed your hand and stood up from the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on, you’re hungry.”

“Jeon Jungkook, what are you planning?”

Jungkook didn’t reply as he pulled you towards the front door. You turned his head in the direction of the window and his eyes widened.

“Jungkook, the houses outside are covered in snow.”

“Yes, baby, because it’s winter season,” Jungkook deadpanned as he put on your snowshoes for you.

“It’s one in the morning and there’s snow. Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Aish, we’re going to find something to eat.”

“I’m pretty sure all the restaurants are closed by now.”

Jungkook took off your puffer jacket from the coat rack and put it on you, zipping the front zipper up to your neck. Mittens came next and Jungkook gently guided your fingers through the holes, all the while you looked at him in silent adoration. He was at least grateful you weren’t resisting. You trust him with your whole life.

He held you by the shoulders and leaned back to take a look before muttering, “Cozy.”

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with yours as he opened the main door to the building outside. Cool air bit at your faces as you shivered.

“Shit, it's freezing. Seriously Jungkook, we could’ve just ordered take-out.”

“And miss out on an adventure in the dead of night in the middle of a potential snowstorm? Never.” Jungkook grinned as he led you a few steps down the block to their right.

The streets were quiet and still as the two lovers trudged through the snow. You could feel Jungkook tightening his grip around your gloved hand as you both approached a store with an almost blinding light.

A convenience store.

It never even crossed your mind and you wanted to kick yourself.

Jungkook pushed the door open and a small bell sound rang. The person behind the cashier bowed and greeted him. Jungkook led you to one of the small tables located inside and sat you down.

“Alright, babe, the usual order?” When Jungkook got a proper look at your face, it was that of confusion and awareness at the same time. “It never crossed your mind that a convenience store is actually open 24/7, huh?”

“Shush! How did you even know that–”

“Five years being with you, I gained the ability to hear what you’re thinking, you know that, right?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Jungkook giggled as he pinched your cheek.

“You’re cold. Ramen will do the trick. I’ll be right back.”

When Jungkook came back, he set down an array of different foods that made your eyes bulge– two big cups of ramen, samgak-kimbap, hot bars, and gamdongran. Jungkook also bought banana and strawberry milk.

When you were still dating during their first year, there were nights when you had to work overtime just to get orders done and delivered the next day. Jungkook would help you pack and tie ribbons to the parcels and in the middle of doing so, both your stomachs would rumble. The convenience store down the street from the apartment saved you in more ways than one. In that little pyonijom did you and Jungkook’s love story slowly blossom. It was in the benches outside that Jungkook learned how you were deathly afraid of spiders. In between cups of ramen and tteokbokki, you confessed your love for each other through innocent touches and hand-holding.

Years down the line, Jungkook continues to find ways to show you his love.

“What do you think? Do you forgive me?”

“You’re bribing me with food again.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled the moment you looked up from your ramen to glare at him. Using his thumb, he reached out to wipe a stripe of soup stain from the corner of your lips.

“Stop doing that.”

Jungkook took a big bite on the samgak-kimbap, “Doing what?”

You stared at Jungkook who was chewing his food, doe eyes innocent as ever.

“Stop making me blush.”

Jungkook chuckled, “You love it.”

The flush on your cheeks told Jungkook he succeeded.

“You didn’t answer my question, baby.”

“No.”

“I fed you.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re cruel. Let’s see who gives in when we come home later,” Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows and that got a laugh out of you.

“You're impossible,” you said.

Jungkook fell silent as he looked out the glass windows. His mouth slightly parted, but no sound came out. His eyes flitted between you and the windows, before slightly leaning forward across the table.

“Sweetheart, close your eyes.”

“What in the world–”

“Trust me.”

“You’ve been testing my trust since we woke up.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance, “Please?”

“What is this about–”

“I promise this one’s really worth it.”

“Fine,” you sighed as you placed his chopsticks on top of the ramen bowl and closed your eyes.

“Are your eyes closed? Sure you don’t see anything?”

“Yes, they are closed.”

Jungkook stood up and gently tugged on your arm, silently telling you to stand up, too.

“Don’t open your eyes until I tell you to, okay?”

You nodded. Jungkook took a long look at you before cupping your face into his hands and giving you a light kiss on your pink lips.

“What’s happening, Jungkook?”

“You’ll see.”

Jungkook slowly turned you in the direction of the front door. He put a hand over your eyes just to make sure you weren’t peeking. Jungkook pushed the door open and together, both of you walked with legs getting tangled every now and then, your back against Jungkook’s chest.

You wanted to say something in protest yet again as the cold winter air began to overtake your body once more, but you felt Jungkook wrap his arm tighter around you, his lips placing small kisses from your neck down to your shoulders.

“Baby, it’s cold,” you tried your best not to shiver too much, but Jungkook’s arm around your waist held you closer, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Does this feel a bit better?” Jungkook asked, breathing warmly as he whispered against your ear.

“Yes, much better,” you replied, trying to steady your nerves.

Jungkook continued to whisper, “Are you ready baby?”

You nodded, at a loss for words, “Three, two, one…” Slowly, Jungkook removed the hand that was covering your eyes.

As you opened them, you saw light, falling snow.

“We didn’t get to witness the first snow together this year. I know it means a lot to you because it’s been our tradition, but I hope this one would cheer you–”

You turned around to face Jungkook and pulled him into a deep kiss. Jungkook melted into your touch as he kissed you back.

In the freezing winter, you and Jungkook felt warm wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

When you pulled away, he was breathless. Jungkook ran his thumb across your cheek, softly smiling at you.

“I love you, Jungkook. Thank you.”

“I only want to make you happy, baby. I love you too,” Jungkook whispered against your forehead before giving you a feather-light kiss.

Stumbling back into the darkness of your apartment, you and Jungkook didn’t want to pull away from one another as you continued to kiss. Jungkook felt you smile and giggle as he wiggled your coats and shoes off. When you finally pulled away from each other, Jungkook leaned back slightly to look at you. The light from the window illuminated your face, Jungkook was so enamored he felt he was going to burst out of love for you.

He quietly held your hand and led you to the kitchen. He stopped walking backward when you were in front of the refrigerator.

“Are you still hungry, baby? Only a few hours left until we go grocery shopping.”

Jungkook didn’t respond but instead opened the refrigerator door. The soft blue light from inside provided a bit more light to the rest of the apartment.

Jungkook pulled you closer to him, one arm caging around your waist. You were quick to catch on to what he was trying to do.

“____, have I told you how much I love you?”

You rested your head on Jungkook’s shoulder as he quietly led you both into a slow hum, a slow dance under the refrigerator light.

“Every day, Jungkook-ah. I feel loved by you every single day since I met you,” you whispered against Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook’s eyes closed as a gentle smile spread across his face. Loving you felt freeing, resplendent. The kind of love that healed all his broken hallelujahs.

“My heart has always dreamed of you, sweetheart. I’m so happy I get to love you like this.”

“Thank you for loving me. For protecting my heart, Jungkook,” you muttered as you lifted your head to look at Jungkook.

Jungkook just smirks and you roll your eyes because you can read him like a book.

"And thank you for taking me to the convenience store," you say as you smack his chest. "You big oaf."

Jungkook's laugh echoes through the quiet room, “Always, baby." He leans closer to whisper against your lips so softly, so reverently, "As long as it's you, I have everything I need.”

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us Chapter 4

Chapter list (1) (2) (3)

I have no clue what to even say, all the support, reblogs, and comments from everyone who has been reading this beautiful thing I've had in my daydreams has been pretty amazing. I can't thank you all enough 💕

Summary: Octavia has a little mess to clean up.

As always, thanks goes to my beta and best friend @micropoe10 . She's the driving force behind this idea because she kept telling me how good it was. So thanks, I owe you many lol.

Inspired by @cheesy-cryptid 's piece of fan art that buried itself in my brain and kept telling me what to write.

Chapter 4

"sleep til the sun burns out"

The next morning, Gale walks up to his shared office. Octavia should have already begun on the last of their tasks. At least a month of work finally coming to an end. They decided early on to share the office he had, after all one person doesn't need that much space to themselves. As he fumbles with the door, Astarion stops him. "Ah! My favorite assistant! Good morning Gale. I trust that you and our dear Octavia are prepared for the opening?"

Gale enthusiastically nods. The coffees he's got stacked on top of his pile of books are slightly shaking. He catches himself against the door and steadies the drinks, "Oh most definitely. Octavia has been staying after hours a few nights, at her insistence mind you, and she's incredible! She did at least three days of work in only half the time! I don't know what I would do without her at this point."

A small blush lands on his cheeks and he clears his throat. "Thank you for trusting me to bring her on board, she's a wonderful addition." Gale smiles awkwardly as Astarion gets in front of him and takes the cups. "Let me hold this for you before you wear this instead of your dashing sweater." Gale's shoulders fall a bit and he rolls his eyes.

They walk into the office to see a gigantic mess. Books, paperwork, pens, all matter of snack foods and energy potions surround Octavia and Gale's combined desks. "Octavia? Are you...?" Gale places his books on the desk softly, meanwhile Astarion places the cups down, picks up a book, and slams it on the table in front of her.

"I'M AWAKE! I'M HERE!!" Octavia springs up, a small note stuck to her cheek. She looks around bleary-eyed and rubs her face, as the room comes into focus, two faces come into view. Gale, and...OH SHIT. "MR. ANCUNIN! GOOD MORNING!!!"

She looks around and sees the mess left behind, quickly fixing her hair and ripping the note off her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't know" Gale mouths to her, he hands her the coffee and begins to gather the room. She puts her face in her arms and hides into the desktop. Thoroughly embarrassed, she lifts her head and looks at Astarion. "Good morning...sorry...I just really wanted to be done, and good news. It's done." She takes a lazy swig of her drink.

Astarion yawns and sips a bit from Gale's cup, coughing dramatically."Gods! How many sugars do you add to this?! This tastes absolutely vile!" He makes a disgusted face and places the cup back on the desk.

"Please tell me you aren't one of those people who asks for the drink with the longest name just to feel important?" He huffs, rolling his head to the side. "I'm not sure how to react to that." Octavia states, she looks down at the pile of papers Gale has already gathered.

She gets up to help, but Astarion stops her. "There's actually a reason I came by to see you both. Something that will pique both of your interests." Gale shoots him a suspicious glare, "What have you done now?" Astarion smiles and places down a well worn book, its black and red cover fraying like it's about to disintegrate if you sneeze in its direction.

"While I was away in the Underdark, I met with a lovely mind flayer and hobgoblin who had all kinds of interesting rare artifacts. One of which was this very book. They told me that this was procured during the siege on the Szarr estate, I'm hoping that it has more insight into our mysterious subject."

He slides the book over in between Octavia and Gale. "I'd love for the pair of you to tackle this long game Gale has played by himself. Octavia, your dedication to our last project surely landed you the task of caring for this book. Not a soul is to even breathe on it. That means you too, Gale."

He tilts his gaze over to Gale who scoffs a little at the notion that he can't read this book. "No offense, dearest Gale, I just don't want it leaving this office and we all know how you like to take work home." He pats Gale on the shoulder as he turns to leave the shared space.

"Also, one last thing. No more overnights, Octavia. You need your beauty rest, my darling. I've told you once before.." he leans in close to Octavia's left side and softly speaks near her ear "Can't have that beautiful mind of yours working too much, you'll turn into Gale, and I feel like you're far too much fun for that, hmm?"

She turns to him, their faces a few inches from each other. He's slightly taller than her, but in this closeness, he feels ten feet tall. His eyes hidden again behind pitch black lenses pierce through her, and the previous chill builds in her core, a shudder escapes her lips as the flush creeps onto her face. "Of course, sir, no more overnights."

She keeps her gaze on the glasses, her own eyes watching in return. She sees the vulpine expression start on his lips "Octavia, what have I told you about calling me 'sir'? We're in private chambers, not the atrium. Live a little, dearest." His voice dripped with suggestive candor.

Octavia on the other hand, was melting into the floor underneath her in return. She's never been around someone so well spoken, and it's pretty intimidating. "Of course....Astarion. I will go home tonight and sleep in my bed, not on my desk." She smiles timidly, back up at her as she looks towards him. "Wonderful, glad to hear it."

Astarion turns quickly on his heels, he must have somewhere to be. Octavia turns to Gale, an incredulous look on his face. "So he wants you to rest but he gives you another gargantuan responsibility to fulfill? I don't get that man sometimes." He shakes his head and keeps filing away paperwork.

—--------------------------------------------------

Later on, Octavia finalizes the displays and wanders back to her office. The last of the visitors are filing out, their dull rumblings and soft murmurs keep her company for a moment. As she turns the corner, mind elsewhere, she doesn't notice the person in front of her until it's too late.

The shock is like walking into a wall, her little pad falls to the floor and her forehead starts to feel warm. "You know, we really have to stop running into each other like this" there's a tiny sarcastic laugh behind the statement.

Astarion was standing in front of her and Gale's office holding two black envelopes adorned with silver writing. One for Gale and the other for her. "I meant to give this to you earlier. Before we got caught up in…all that…" he grimaces towards the office.

"Anyway, we're having a little party here for the board members, staff, beneficiaries, pretty much anyone who wants to have their name on a wing or a bench. I came to give you and Gale your invitations but you were both gone. Figured you actually listened to me for once." He shrugs loosely, picks up Octavia's notepad, and hands it back to her along with the envelope.

The black matte paper was smooth in her hands, her name embossed in silver leaf. She flips over the envelope and sees a silver wax seal with a Sharran symbol stamped in the middle. "Spared no expense, huh?" She remarks as she opens it.

"No, of course not. How do you think we pay for all the exhibits? We have to wine and dine these benevolent people to give us more gold to cover what I spent trying to convince other people to let me have their pretty little treasures they kept in dilapidated, crumbling, piles of rubble and bone for two hundred years." Astarion rambles sardonically, waving his hands as he rounds off. "That's all in a day's work for me. Having to put on airs to impress people who wouldn't even give me a second glance had I not worked my way up to where I am now. I've been one with the shadows for as long I can remember."

His voice lowers, a forlorn twinge to his words. "Having to sort through rushed, sloppy graves. You almost feel sorry for the corpses, I think I do. Hmm. Nevermind any of that. There's a dress code by the way. Black preferably. Spend some of that graduation money you mentioned and get yourself something nice."

He brushes some hair off Octavia's shoulder, his hand lingers there for a bit. She stares at his hand there and looks back at him, wide eyed. "You deserve it after all." He takes his hand off, placing both his arms behind his back. "Well I'm off. Looks like I'll have to look for Gale at his place. I'll see you there, dearest."

Tag list (thank you 🥹❤️, if you want to join, please let me know!) : @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @justporo

[thebrandywine]

20 Questions for Fic Authors

@catgirladjacent tagged me! and i like to infodump! let's go!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

97 including some that are under pseuds, though I did orphan a few once I started fixating on Resident Evil more fully. I was embarrassed lmao

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

865,796 o__o

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Resident Evil exclusively now!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

don't worry about this one cuz it's under a pseud lol

[every picture tells a story], 387 kudos

[lantern], 376 kudos

broken machine, 356 kudos

[the quality of mercy], 332 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do!!! more often than not it's just with some emojis now lol but i relish and treasure every single comment i get

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh, this one has yet to be published :) don't worry! <3

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

hmm... probably Two Cakes (which is coming out this month)? made me feel all sappy at least :]

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not now, but I definitely got some hateful comments on things when i was a lot younger-- mostly people complaining that i was a bad writer or that i should delete (which i did, so they got their wish lol). now if anything i mostly get people who comment on my stuff to kind of pressure me to update XYZ (the nivannedy catboy fic is notorious for this, which is why i haven't been working on it very much lately). the block button is my friend tho <3

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

yeah :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

Nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i think someone wanted to at one point and then never did lol

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i've talked with some people about this before but we've never gotten around to it :P

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

i love chreon but there's just SOMETHING about nivannedy---

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

the lethan re7/re8 rewrite. i really want to keep working on them but i just have so much more on my plate that i keep pushing it off, especially when it'll require the research of rewatching playthroughs a few times to reimaging the plot points. maybe one day tho!!

16. What are your writing strengths?

i've been told that my dialog is good which makes me happy because there are a few fics where i'm actually really proud of it :3

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

describing things, especially people! for some reason i always feel like it breaks the flow so i just... am like "there is a man. anyway--" sorry readers but it's your job to imagine him skjfnskdnf

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i only speak english and i'm also VERY american. i don't personally want to mess around with that because it would be google translate type shit and that's just sad imo :/ so since i don't know enough i will abstain

19. First fandom you wrote for?

pokemon!!!!!!!!! i literally found THE first fic i ever wrote which would have been somewhere between third and fifth grade because i PRINTED IT and DREW PICTURES. it is called The Mysterious Manaphy and makes no sense. i read it aloud to my partner and they howled. yeah, it was just that good

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

listen, i love broken machine, but dualities has seriously taken the cake!!!!!!!!!

thank you for tagging me claire :3 i tag @flurrin @fonulyn and @silvercap!!!

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Okay so I’ve been thinking about soap which led me to thinking about your soap and introvert!reader 🫠

For one I know soap loves listening to her talk (obviously cause she doesn’t do it a lot) but he loves bringing up topics that she’s passionate about cause 1. She looks so beautiful when she gets into it digging into all the details and the way the personality she keeps under wraps comes out when he gets a part wrong and 2. Intelligent women turn him on 🤷🏻‍♀️

The first time he gets her to be comfortable enough around him to start actually get her talking to the point where he’s just listening he has a very hard time hiding his hard on lol 100% covers it with a couch pillow and tries not to make it obvious and thank god reader wasn’t really paying attention cause it was so obvious it’s embarrassing 💀

Another thing, reader accidentally finds out that Johnny draws. She wandered over to his place to give him some food since she made way to much and she knocks but there’s no answer and Johnny has told her before just to come in if he doesn’t answer (obviously witching certain times lol) so she makes her way in and find him sitting on his couch with head phones on drawing in a sketch book. (I want to say it’s her he’s drawing but I’m not going too 😤) He’s drawing a set of brown eyes that seem to be surrounded by a mask? She’s in awe for a moment and goes to tap Johnny’s shoulder when he notices her and screams like a girl 🤣

Anyways this leads to them eventually getting to the point of (when Johnny is on extended leaves) he’ll wander over to her place and sit and draw while she does whatever it is that she does, reading, writing, music, or maybe even art herself. It would be so beautiful if this is when Johnny realizes he loves her. She calls him so much but he also gets to be who he truly is around her and he also bring out who she really is too 🥹

(Hope this all makes sense… anyways these are just thoughts not even really hc’s just little thoughts that came forward. Oh, and i also have another little thing for Simon and roommates!reader that I’ve been conjuring up and it won’t leave my mind so I’ll eventually send that ask 😈)

you are always giving me good thoughts because you're 100% right!!!! @random0lover

Soap would absolutely fall more in love with you the moment you start talking on and on about your favorite thing or something that you're interested in. He's 100% into intelligent people he will be turned on by someone who knows their stuff and by golly the first time you went crazy he was hanging onto every word but also trying really hard to not make it obvious he wanted to make out with you

(If you've seen that tik tok audio where it's like "i'm way too horn y to talk to this woman right now" that's him when you start talking passionately)

Soap would also definitely tell you you can enter his home whenever (as if you lived there too).

I think Soap would be a little embarrassed if you saw him drawing in his journal because his very nervous about you finding out he's drawn you so many times. But he's very willing to draw you something and if you suggest he can come over and draw while you do your own thing he might actually marry you

(i am so excited for the roommate series ask that will be coming you feed me so well)

[lunagojo]

Gojo Satoru Headcanons

(these are just my personal thoughts, don't mind me ;u;)

Is bisexual (definitely not straight imo, he defs had feelings for Suguru but he also loves women)

Sings loudly in the shower (even if its early in the morning) and always gets soap in his eyes, every. single. time, which leads to him screaming and waking everyone up

Truly loves Megumi like his own son, would do anything to keep him safe

I don't think he's a virgin tbh, like everyone seems to think. I think he's fucked around a lot especially after what happened with Suguru

He's afraid of commitment not because he's a fuckboy but because he's terrified of opening his heart to someone again and losing them (he doesn't think he could handle that again and he HATES feeling weak)

Goes shopping with Nobara all the time and lets her use his credit card

Is actually a gigantic sweetheart once you get to know him better

Yes he will torment you and tease you but it's his way of showing affection :p

Unironically says 'poggers' which pisses off Megumi and embarrasses Yuuji

Sometimes he finds himself wanting someone to see him as a human being and not just the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, he just yearns to be understood again like Suguru did

This is canon but is FIERCELY protective of his students, like will actually choke a bitch if someone even looks at them wrong

Has the prettiest hands, takes really good care of them

Has the strangest taste in music, will be listening to Kyary Pamyu Pamyu at one moment and the next will be listening to Linkin Park >.>

Fidgets when he's bored

Doesn't know how to operate a laundry machine

Can eat an exorbitant amount of sweets and never get sick, his metabolism is insane

Spam calls Nanami all the time and leaves him annoying ass voicemails whenever he doesn't pick up

Comes across as an idiot but is actually incredibly intelligent and good at reading people

Would love all of his simps

MOVING ON TO THE ROMANTIC SHTUFF

I think he would appreciate a partner that's on his same wavelength, like someone who is able to match his energy and silliness, but also to understand him deeply and be patient with him

If you can make him laugh that's bonus points, he finds funny people extremely attractive

I don't think he has a particular preference in terms of appearance, despite everyone thinking he's shallow he actually values personality a helluva lot more than looks

If it's a debate of ass, tits, or thighs, he'd probably say all three

But he does have a weakness for tatas lol

If you put on his blindfold and imitate him jokingly he will propose on the spot

Is an absolute cuddle bug, if he's around you he cannot keep his hands off of you

He is EXTREMELY touch starved, once you touch him gently he will melt

Tried to cook for you once and almost burned the house down, I don't think he can cook very well XD

He will take you out on fancy dates and getaways, but the times he values most is when he just gets to relax at home with you and rest his head on your chest <3

Needs a lot of reassurance that you're not going to leave him early on

WANTS YOU TO SQUISH HIS FACE AND KISS HIM A LOT <3

Since he's so busy he's gone a lot, but he makes sure to Facetime you every day so he can see your face and hear your voice ;n;

The first time he told you he loved you was when he finally explained what happened in his past with Getou

You'd never seen him look so scared or upset but when you embraced him and told him you felt the same he sank into your arms

He doesn't fall in love easily but when he does you're never getting rid of him ;u;

[autisticgirliesbracket]

What makes Asa Mitaka from Chainsaw Man the autistic girlie ever of all time? Here's what the people have to say:

Asa-related asks/reblogs: x This post will be updated after each round!

Image ID in alt text and under the readmore.

[Image ID. White slide with a manga panel of Asa in the top right corner, she has been edited to be wearing a blue cap with the words "Please be patient I have autism" printed on the front. She is surrounded by text boxes which read,

"Goes to the aquarium with a guy and infodumps about sea anemonies."

"I kin her unironically. Unbelievable social awkward. Goes to an aquarium date where she spends the entire time explaining facts about the Animals fully in an attempt to impress her date. She must be avenged from the ADHD vs Autism bracket. Is isolated from her peers. Chronically lonely but won't open up to anyone(not sure if that's an Autism thing or just a personal problem probably a combination of both) Have you read the Manga?"

"has a VERY hard time with social interaction"

"She is absolutely baffled by everything + doesn't get most things at first"

"there's an extended scene where she flirts with a boy by lecturing him about sea anemone life cycles, breeding patterns, and other extended trivia. the whole time she is thinking to herself "he must be falling in love with me right about now. this is an irresistible date." "

"Literally infodumps to the boy shes on a date with for like 3 straight pages and then goes "i'm so alluring. he definetely wants me now" "

"from the scene that was all over tumblr where she infodumps about starfish on an aquarium date and considers this her Ultimate Seduction Technique. a guy on reddit literally got diagnosed because he could relate to her. it's awesome"

"Tried to impress a guy on a date by monologuing starfish facts about him, was genuinely astonished that that didn't drive him wild with desire. Also she's sharing her body with a horsewoman of the apocalypse but that's unrelated."

"If her long-winded rant about sea creatures as an attempt to seduce someone wasn't enough, then a lot of her trauma is based around being ostracized for being weird and quiet. She doesn't understand people but wants companionship anyways, even if shes also afraid of it."

"She feels disconnected to her peers. She literally infodumps while on a date for thirty minutes about starfish. She doesn't see this as a social faux pas, but rather something any sane person would do. (Basically, doesn't realize this is abnormal.) She misses social cues frequently. She feels below average empathy, I'd say. Asa also said she wanted to die after embarrassing herself in public. That doesn't mean she's autistic or anything, but I'm autistic and I do it a lot. Also, I'm autistic and I relate to her, so she kind of has a peer reviewed diagnosis by me lol."

"Socially awkward and prone to info dumping."

"shes cringe fail and has no idea what shes doing ever i love her so much (shes just like me fr"

"I’m sure you’ve seen her failgirl cringe aquarium infordump that she’s sure will charm any boy (note: fails to charm the world’s loosest teenage boy.) She sucks at a lot of social stuff but also doesn’t get why and just thinks she’s wrong or cursed or smth. Likes animals over people. Doesn’t have a single friend until another loner who happens to be more extroverted basically adopts her as her friend."

"1) thought lecturing her date about sea creatures for like 30 minutes each would impress him and make him like her and was confused when he wasn’t into it (I would be into it tho it’s ok bby he just has adhd). 2) had the date planned out to the MINUTE and told the poor guy to shut up when he wanted to do something different. Literally a formula for how to have fun and she thought it was foolproof. 3) encyclopedic knowledge of sea creatures either points to a special interest and/or she just decided to research all that shit the night before for the date (she did say she went to the library in preparation), either way. tism I love her I’m rotating her in my brain" End ID.]