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awrkive · 3 days ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 6 — JJK (m.)

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

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 14.6k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc, software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, as usual, super dreamy jk 😞 arguments,, lowkey,, emotional constipation like always, kinda angsty if u squint. Also jungkook kinda abuses the fuck out of 23278648 pet names available in the world even eye laughed... SPOILER AHEAD DONT READ IF U DONT WANNA KNOW [ explicit sexual content: mature language, very indulgent bl*wjob scene lmfao, a teeny tiny bit of c*mplay, fing*ring, c*nniling*s, penetr*tive s*x (p in v), c*wgirl s*x, protected s*x, multiple org*sms, jungkook has a filthy mouth 🫤😑😑 ]

NOTES i dont have anything to say except enjoyyy!! let me know your thoughts in my inbox gimme ur theories gimme ur keeb smashes gimme ur 2746th "i want nb jk so bad" 🤓��🏼💓💓

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] // [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

You like to think of yourself as a reasonable person. You make okay decisions, even though it takes you a few weeks and a thousand debriefs. You can’t buy something off the rack without going through 10-year-old posts on Reddit, and you certainly are very keen with people you let into your life – given your two to three friends.

The point is, while you may be a bit of a klutz, you take your adult life kind of seriously, and especially your relationships.

You were so sure that what happened back at the motel with Jungkook when you were stranded was going to be this whole… one-time-thing. That you both were just horny, stuck in a weird situation, just heat-of-the-moment lapse in judgment, and afterwards he would tell you to forget about it. And if he did, you’d accept it. It might crush you a little bit inside, but you know you’ll be fine to keep going on with your life even though that might have been the best orgasm you’ve had since forever and you’d like to experience it again.

What surprised you the most wasn’t that it happened. It was how you felt the next morning.

There was no regret.

When you opened your eyes – bleary and barely awake because of the little hours you got in – Jungkook wasn’t in bed. He was coming back through the door with a bag of pastries and coffee from what you assumed was the local bakery. He told you everything was handled, his car and your stuff, and you could take your time getting ready. You’d head back once you were set.

You fell asleep again on the ride home. Jungkook walked you to your apartment and bid you a kind smile when you said goodbye.

And nothing happened after. No awkward texts. No slow fade. And you were just so ready for the worst thing to happen. Like him suddenly going MIA on you or something…

But now it’s the day after, and you’re together again in his car after he texted you to ride with him on the way home after work – cramped up in the driver’s seat with you on his lap.

Frantically making out.

“Oh,” you let out a soft moan, carding your fingers through Jungkook’s hair, not even caring about how you’re messing up his hairdo.

A needy, impatient sort of heat builds between you two. His mouth is on yours, hands exploring like he couldn’t decide where to start. Another moan slips out from you he cups the swell of your ass through your trousers, and a rush of frustration bubbles up in your chest.

God, why didn’t you wear a skirt?

“You smell good,” Jungkook murmurs into your neck, kissing a slow trail up to your jaw before groaning as you rock against him, grinding against the growing bulge pressing up through his slacks.

“Y-yeah?” you mumble, tugging at his tie and popping open the first three buttons of his shirt. Your fingers graze his chest, warm and solid and stupidly inviting.

“This is the scent you wore back at the party.” He untucks your blouse from your waistband, his warm hands sending shivers down your spine when they travel across the span of your back.

Yeah. And also the scent you exclusively use for special, big occasions. Because in the true broke girl tradition, there’s always that unreasonably priced perfume you keep in your vanity while you spritz the hell out of the cheap one. You’ve only used it a total of ten times ever since you bought it a month ago, the eleventh time being now… which is just a regular day in the office.

But being in Jungkook’s lap and making out with him in his car is not regular day in the office. So maybe you lucked out on spraying that expensive perfume – totally because it was just there on your vanity, by the way – and not because you were expecting something to happen today.

Totally.

“Uh, yeah,” you shift on his lap. “It was on sale.”

Which is probably information he did not need and a total bald-faced lie.

He hums, kisses dropping down to your sternum, hands getting heavier under your clothes. You take his face in your hands again to press your mouth on him, your moan getting swallowed by his eager reciprocity, both in the movement of his tongue inside your mouth and his erection that’s making you wet your panties as you rock your hips against him.

Jungkook’s fingers trace the cups of your bra. “Can I?” He asks, mouth agape. You don’t even know what he meant, you just nod. A second later and he’s squeezing your breasts in his palms.

“S-so you wanted to drive me home for this?” you arch your brow at him playfully, grinding against his lap and relishing in the warmth of his hands on your chest. God, you wish he’d do something about your bra soon.

Jungkook chuckles, nipping your jaw. “No. I wanted to ask you to come over to my place to have dinner.”

As if that triggered your intestines, your stomach suddenly growls – quite loudly in the confined space of his car and around the quiet parking lot of the building.

Jungkook freezes, staring at you.

You shut your eyes close in embarrassment, groaning. “Ugh, sorry. I haven’t eaten at all today and you mentioning dinner is making me remember that.”

“Oh…”

Jungkook reluctantly watches you as you carefully leave his lap, completely halting your previous activity. He grips your hand as he helps you transfer to the passenger’s seat, looking at you as you put your hair up and tuck your shirt.

He adjusts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. You can’t help but eye the very obvious outline of his dick in his pants, and it’s very huge, alright, making you grin.

“I hope that’s not gonna be a problem.”

Jungkook takes in the mischief in your eyes and scoffs playfully, shaking his head as he starts the ignition to drive.

You spend about thirty minutes in the shower – which is definitely not at all your usual routine – but it did the job. You smell like raspberries now, and the outfit you pulled on afterwards looks casual enough for Jungkook not to suspect what’s going on underneath. Just an oversized shirt and pajama pants. Innocent. Normal.

But you have on a lacy pair of white thong… just in case something does happen tonight. At least you’re the least bit prepared…

When you look at your phone, it’s already 10:15pm, and Jungkook told you to be over at his place at 10:20. You check yourself in the mirror one last time and head straight to the kitchen where you grab the plastic container of a batch of choco-chip cookies you baked the second he dropped you off earlier.

You’ve perfected the recipe now, you’re sure of it.

But just as you make a beeline for your door, a sudden warmth gushes between your thighs.

An all too familiar feeling by now.

Oh no.

You dash to the bathroom, tug your pajama pants down, slide off your panties and – yep. There it is. A bright red stain against the flimsy white fabric that went right through the pants.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter, frowning. Of all the nights to get your period, of course it had to be this one.

You had showered. Prepped. Put on the g-string. And you were this close to maybe – possibly – having sex with Jungkook. You hadn’t said anything about it, not outright, but come on. That impulsive make-out session in the car earlier? The way he kept adjusting himself? The tension practically humming between you?

Yeah, something was definitely going to happen.

Well, probably not anymore.

Grumbling, you toss your pants into the laundry and rummage through your cabinet for a pad. You move like you’re trudging through emotional mud, begrudgingly pulling on a clean pair of a less sexier granny panties and fresh bottoms.

So much for that.

It’s not like you had any of this figured out anyway. No “so, what happened” talk, no conversations about the night at the motel or whatever is… happening now. And now your uterus has decided to sabotage you. Amazing.

Still, cookies in hand and spirits only mildly deflated, you head out of your apartment and make your way to Jungkook’s porch.

He opens the door on the second buzz, greeting you with a grin that makes your stomach flip. Even more so when you realize he’s wearing sweatpants. Grey sweatpants. Ugh. This man.

“Hi.”

“Hey, come in,” Jungkook says, eyeing the plastic in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Cookies.” you bring it up to your chest. “I made them real quick so it’s not a lot. But I can assure you it’s better now and you definitely won’t get food poison.”

He chuckles, leading the way to his living area. “You say that as if I got food poisoning the first time.”

“Maybe you did and you just didn’t tell me.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “You know you didn’t have to bring something, right?”

“Uh-huh.,” you mutter, following him in, “but since you’re making dinner, I thought I could take care of dessert.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, your face scrunch up.

Jungkook pauses just long enough to glance back at you, amused, before shaking his head again with another soft laugh.

What? What did he think you meant by that? Geez…

Comfortable silence settles between you, the soft clinking of wine glasses and the distant narration of some random BBC documentary filling the space. You teased Jungkook again about his massive TV – said the faces look so big that it’s just kind of funny – but really, it’s kind of cute the way his ears flush red when he gets shy talking about his stuff.

You talk. About work, mostly. Jungkook’s been pulling longer shifts, taking on more than usual. You tell him about your days have been the same lately, just mindless repetition. He compliments the cookies you brought, and after a bit of coaxing, admits the first batch you made for him weeks ago were kind of bad. You laugh and pretend to be offended.

It was nice.

Somehow, you talk about everything and nothing. Not once either of you mentioned the motel. Not the kiss in the parking lot. Not even a vague nod to the tension that’s been following you around like a ghost.

And maybe that’s the problem.

It feels like Jungkook’s waiting for you to jump the gun first. But how the hell are you supposed to do that? How do you casually bring up the fact that he kissed you like he meant it? How exactly are you going to talk about the night you shared a kiss with the man you think you’ve liked for so many weeks now? How are you going to talk about how he made you orgasm to sleep because it was the best you've ever had since and it was so much better than the scenarios you’ve made up in your head? And god, those scenarios didn’t even live up to the very real thing.

You want to bring it up. God, you need to. Not because you’re hopeful that this night would lead to something – but because you just need to know if he would want to do that again sometime.

But something in you is scared that Jungkook will suddenly speak up and tell you the night was a mistake and you both should get over it.

But you also know that kiss in the parking lot must’ve meant something. The way you just jumped at each other like you weren't in a public space and Jungkook not minding one bit must’ve meant that he wanted it too.

That maybe, just like you, he can’t help but notice the thick tension up in the air as you sit on the couch so close to each other, his familiar scent overwhelming your senses, and the way he looks so cozy in his white shirt and… grey sweatpants. Ugh. You swear you weren’t going to pay any attention to it as soon as he opened that door, but how could you not when he just looks way too effortlessly good and you know exactly what it's hiding–

“You want some more?”

Your thoughts are cut short when Jungkook suddenly speaks, looking at your wine glass.

“Uh…” you glance at the clock. “No, I should probably get going. It’s almost 11. I have work tomorrow– we have work tomorrow,” you chuckle awkwardly, glancing at the wall clock across the room.

Just like that, you go back to your shell again, overwhelmed by your anxiety and fear of rejection.

But for a brief second, Jungkook looks disappointed by your response, although he’s quick to wipe that off with a smile.

“Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

Okay. Well maybe you didn’t really want him to say that at all.

Hiding your disappointment this time, you stand up from the seat and let Jungkook talk you into leaving the wine glasses on the coffee table as opposed to bringing it to the kitchen yourself, as Jungkook insisted he’ll take care of it once you leave.

Jungkook’s hand lingers on your lower back as you stand by his door, ready to say goodbye.

“Thanks for the dinner.” you say quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook smiles. “We can do this again sometime.”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Alright. See you tomorrow, then?”

You halt your steps, lips curling into a half-smile. “That flatters me.”

Jungkook leans on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. “I was hoping so.”

You bite back a grin, nod, turning to leave. But…

“__—”

“Jungkook—”

Your head snaps quickly to his direction, and you both stare at each other in surprise. Jungkook’s gaze melts into a soft look.

“You first.”

“No, you first.”

“___,” he says with a chuckle, coaxing.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself.

Just take the chance, something in your head tells you.

And you took the bait.

“This is going to sound incredibly stupid,” you start, voice low and hesitant. “but what happened back at the motel — I’m not sure if we’re allowed to talk about that again — but we kind of kissed this afternoon and I… I don’t know what that meant. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I wanna do it again sometime. If you’re willing,” you voice wavers, trying to look into his eyes but the weight of your words crawl deep in your skin it makes you scared to even make eye contact. “But if you’re not, then that’s totally fine. We can forget it happened.”

Silence stretched for a beat too long. Panic starts to rise in your chest – until Jungkook steps forward.

“If I’m willing?” He echoes, blinking like he’s not sure he heard you right.

You nod, wary. “Y-yeah…?”

He steps closer, and your breath catches.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about you since then?” He takes a tentative touch to your hips, and when you don’t say a thing or make a move to pry him off, Jungkook takes a hold of you to pull you closer, making you gasp quietly. “Everytime I close my eyes, all I can think about is how I’ve held these hips as I licked you, kissed you, and touched you. I’ve never been one to give in to my wants as easy as the way you made me when we walked back to my car this afternoon because all I wanted to do was to have a taste of you again, even though I would’ve liked for us to talk first. That means I can’t have enough,” Jungkook studies your face as he leans down, gaze so full of want, but there’s a certain control under his hold. It makes your breath hitch.

“And you want to know if I’m willing?” Jungkook tacks on, lifting his hand to caress your cheek, gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. You anticipate his next words, but when he presses you closer – that’s when you feel it. The hard-on he’s sporting under the grey sweatpants you’ve been fantasizing about ever since you walked in on his apartment.

“Oh…” you gasp, reaching for his shoulder as you feel your knees slightly buckling.

Then, Jungkook chuckles, amused. But it’s dark and rich, and his boner is still very much pressing to your stomach.

In the heat of the moment, you stand on your tippy toes and kiss Jungkook.

He seems to be surprised at it first, but his arms slowly make their way around you to hold you as you tighten yours around his neck, letting out a soft moan when his tongue prods in.

You stumble inside, Jungkook walking you back inside his apartment all the while not breaking the kiss, and the next thing you know, he’s kicking off the door shut, hands travelling down to your legs to carry you across his apartment.

You yelp at the sudden way your feet get lifted off the ground, but Jungkook carries you with a certain grace as if you’re nothing but paperweight – hot tongue swirling around your mouth like kissing you was a lifeline.

He lays you down gently on the couch, trailing kisses along your jaw. When you grab at the hem of his shirt, he sits back to quickly rid himself off the material.

You bite on your bottom lip as soon as you see what’s on display. Wide chest, narrow waist, toned abdomen, and sculpted arms with ink. You would’ve liked to admire it more but Jungkook quickly goes back to kissing you after taking off his shirt, hands roaming all over your body as if he can’t quite decide where to put it at all. Then, he kneels in between your spread legs, slowly settling himself down on the floorboards. You watch with half-lidded eyes as his lips leave trail kisses down your neck to your sternum, until his hands slide your top off your stomach, kissing the exposed skin.

Your hands settle on his soft locks, where you admire the way he moves down your body, huge hands splayed on your skin, making you ache in between your legs.

Your eyes blow out as you remember exactly what’s in between your legs.

Fuck.

Before Jungkook can kiss you there, you grab at his shoulders. “Jungkook,”

He looks up quickly, fringe going in different directions, biceps unconsciously flexing at your touch. “Hm?”

Even though it pains you, you tell him, “We can’t tonight…”

“Ah, that’s alright,” He looks up at you in genuine concern. “You’re not feeling okay tonight?”

You shake your head. “No… that’s not it,” You make a face, feeling annoyed all over again. God. Hot sex was on the table. And your period just ruined it. “I got my period. My cycle usually starts at the end of the month.”

Jungkook nods in realization, squeezing your hips in understanding.

“Sorry, then. Should I get you something? I think I may have ice cream in the fridge.” He raises a brow, eyes drifting off to his kitchen.

You take his cheek, grabbing his jaw gently to make him look at you.

“Actually… I was thinking we don’t have to stop.”

His eyes may have lightened up, and Jungkook takes your wrist to press a kiss to the side of your hand.

“Yeah, I don’t really mind as long as you’re comfortable with it. We’ll put on a towel— okay, I can see on your face that’s not what you meant.”

“No…? I was thinking I’ll give you a blowjob instead.”

“Ah…” Jungkook nods again. “Are you sure? Don’t you have cramps?”

You chuckle. “Not yet. It’ll kick in on the second day,” You nudge him with your foot. “Come on up here.”

“You’re sure? We don’t need to do anything, baby,”

Baby. God. That nickname had always been so generic but there’s something about the way it rolls off Jungkook's tongue.

“I’m sure.”

Jungkook gives you one of his million dollar smiles and kisses his way back up until your lips meet again.

“Can I?” You nod when Jungkook tugs at your shirt. With your permission, he slides your top off, hissing at the sight of your bra-cladded chest.

He goes down to lick your nipple through the material, and you grab his hair when you feel him give you a slightly harsh nip. He licks it again, as if offering some sort of silent apology.

When he pulls the cups down, that’s when you push him to the side making him fall to the couch, and you take that time to kneel down this time in between his spread legs.

“Put this on your knees first.” Jungkook hands you the throw pillow on the couch. You take them and fluff them under your knees, and when you finish doing that, you attend to Jungkook’s very taunting grey sweatpants, tugging it off him. He helps you slide the pants off together with his boxers – and you have to fight the urge to take it slow when his hard cock springs free.

You’ve seen it before, have held it – but those moments felt so brief that they almost didn’t feel real. So when you see it up-close, so girthy and standing tall against his abdomen with the angry red tip slightly leaking, your breath gets caught up in your throat.

“Fuck,” Jungkook lets out a low groan when you begin teasing kisses to his thighs.

His gorgeous, thick thighs.

God… you wonder how it would tense up with your feet resting on them as you bounce up and down on his huge cock.

But you watch the way they clench when your lips get nearer to where he aches; watch as they tense under your touch when you place your hands there. And you watch Jungkook – most especially – as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, dark with want, his chest heaving under the tension.

“Is this what you want?” You ask, blinking at him meekly. His mouth opens to speak, but you don’t let him say another word as you let a glob of saliva fall down to the crown of his cock. You adjust your position in between his thighs, getting more comfortable but also pushing your ass out as you wrap your hand around the base.

Jungkook hisses when you twist your hand, gingerly spreading the wetness of your saliva around him. He lets his back fall to the back of the couch with a light thud, and you smirk when you see his abs clench.

“You’re killing me here, __. Don’t tease.”

You give him a non-committal hum. You meant to tease, but touching him like this feels like all your thoughts have suddenly gone to mush, and you’re left with only want – the want to pleasure him, to get him to let out those little huffs and grunts like when you two kissed…

You languidly move your hand around his shaft, humming at the way his tip oozes out more wetness which makes it easier for you to stroke him. You can’t help but watch in fascination as he seems to continue to grow around you. So hard and veiny… almost needy, the way he breathes heavily above you.

“Baby, fuck… you’re so pretty, god—” Jungkook’s words get cut off when you lean down to close your lips around the head, sucking at the softer tip before you take more of his length. “F-fuck…” Jungkook rasps, fingers gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail when you start bobbing your head up and down.

He feels big. Warm. But you smile to yourself when Jungkook shifts on the couch at the sensation. It felt good to have him squirming like that beneath your touch, to have him keening like this.

Gripping the base, you twist your fingers around the remaining length you couldn’t put in your mouth, jacking him off. From there, you start picking up your pace until Jungkook’s a panting mess. You’ve never pegged him as the type to be so… vocal. But it felt good, and at this point, you just want to see him let go of himself, even as he grips your hair tighter by every second that passes. It didn’t hurt enough to be uncomfortable, the force was just right – and it felt like he’s holding on to every muscle of his to not use too much force on your head by the way you can feel his other hand hovering over your hair.

“Ah, __… baby, shit. Yeah, you’re taking my cock so well– shit…”

You pump him faster, and every now and then, you would suck at the tip gingerly, kiss the veins around his rock hard dick, roam with your tongue, and test the waters and massage his balls. Soft groans escape past his lips, hips arching off the couch.

“Shit— baby, fuck,”

You hum, pleased with that. Your tongue teases the underside of his cock with every downstroke, just to hear him swear. You lick off the glistening juice off the head, lick around the ridge, and tighten your grip around the base, sinking your mouth up and down faster.

“God, your mouth is–aghh– Jesus fuck baby I’m gonna–”

You slurp noisily around his cock as you try to take him deeper – and at one point you actually feel him hitting the back of your throat but you were careful enough to adjust your angle and continue to suck him up and down. Jungkook’s gasps increase in speed and pitch, and you can feel him trying to get you off him when he tries to pull your face away from his lap.

“Baby, you gotta–”

But you don’t even let him finish that thought when you grip his thigh with your other hand, sucking his head that gets him keening again.

“Shit, shit, shit __ I’m going to– f-fuuuck,”

Jungkook shoots his hot cum in your mouth, and you didn’t really expect it to be so… much. The first wave felt heavy, but as his thighs spasm, his dick continues to squirt some more, and you open your mouth to catch them all.

“Fuck.”

You pull back with a wet pop, opening your eyes to meet Jungkook’s stare. Your fingers are still around his length when you lick around your lips, noting the way his eyes darken at the sight of you in front of him like this – kneeling in between his legs and licking his cum.

His chest heaves up and down, and he looks like he was about to say something when you suddenly slack your jaw to present your mouth to him – your mouth that’s now painted white with his cum. He watches you carefully as you close your eyes and swallow.

“Jesus.”

“Didn’t know you were religious like that.” you say as soon as everything’s gone in your mouth, giving him a cheeky smile. It’s a bit salty, not terrible, though you kind of expected that.

When you look at Jungkook, his mouth opens and closes like fish in water. You beat him to it when you rise, crawling up on his chest to press your lips to his.

You realize he might be one of those guys who didn't like it very much when their partners kissed them on the mouth right after giving them a blowjob – but Jungkook only slides his arm around your waist, deepening the kiss, dipping his tongue in your mouth until you’re settled on his lap again.

“You’re a fucking dream.” Jungkook says before kissing you again.

You giggle in his mouth, pushing him away slightly. His eyebrows knit in confusion, but he doesn't really look like he’s processing anything.

“You know I realized something about you,” you plant a sweet kiss on the side of his lips. “You don’t cuss at all, but you do it a lot during sex.”

Jungkook’s expression contorts into a frown, as if that was news to him. “Do I?”

You chuckle. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that–” then as if cutting off his own thoughts, he dives in for a kiss again. He pulls away for a second, caressing your cheek and thumbing your jaw before staring at you. “God, you’re gorgeous. Pretty girl.”

“Thanks.”

“I think my brain’s broken right now. I don’t have coherent thoughts.”

That makes you laugh. You pat his chest and notice the way Jungkook reluctantly lets you get off his lap, watching with hooded eyes as you rise to your feet.

“Well, I’ll have to get going. It’s—” you glance at the wall clock. “almost 12.”

Jungkook takes your wrist, and you have to be very brave to not look at his lap because he still hasn’t pulled up his pants yet and his dick is still very much on display. And you weren’t really kidding about having to go because you do have an early day tomorrow.

“Do you really have to go?”

You pout. “I have to.”

He sighs as if that disappointed him. “Okay… let me walk you out.”

Jungkook – finally – pulls his pants up, brushing his fingers through his hair as he rises to his feet. He doesn’t bother putting on his shirt, though, and you don’t comment on it, figuring he’d stay inside anyway.

But when you see him slipping into his slides to follow you out, you press a hand lightly to his bare abdomen and laugh. “Hey, it’s literally, like five steps away. Go back inside.”

He pauses, brows furrowing in slight confusion before glancing down at himself. “Let me just grab my shirt, then—”

That makes you giggle. “Brain still broken?”

“I think so…” he trails off then looks at you. “Hey, come here,” he doesn’t wait for you to do so though, just reaches for you to pull you by the waist, pressing you close to him. He leans down and gives you a slow kiss. You could actually feel air being taken away from you when he pulls away, his smile as gentle as the hand that rubs your back. “Thank you, and good night. See you tomorrow?”

You nod, feeling your cheeks flush.

“Okay. Night. And see you tomorrow.”

With a small wave, you turn toward your apartment, not daring to glance back as you head to the door. But you can feel his gaze on you, watching as you slip inside.

It felt like Jungkook wanted you to stay longer…

But the ache in between your thighs was starting to get uncomfortable, and honestly, you really needed to change your pad.

Because the wetness there? Yeah, it definitely wasn’t just your period.

“So… is my laptop dying or…?”

“For the third time; no, your laptop is not dying,” Jungkook gives you a playful shake of his head. “It’s just laggy because you watch a lot of porn on it and you turned off your antivirus for some reason.”

You gasp. A dramatic one.

You give Jungkook a scandalous look before sitting down on the couch with him, peeking over what he’s doing on your device. Frankly, you don’t like it when people touch your things – especially your gadgets – because you had a lot of private stuff in them. But thirty minutes ago, your laptop randomly shut down while you had been doing some excel spreadsheets. In a weird coincidence, Jungkook called you the same time it happened. So you told him about it, and he offered to swing by and take a look. He was a tech guy, after all… and anyway, getting it fixed at some shop would have been expensive.

“I don’t watch porn!” you protest, glaring at him.

Jungkook just blinks at you, looking unconvinced. Then he shrugs. “Okay.”

“And what do you mean antivirus? I don’t even know I have one,” you mumble, placing the bowl of freshly cut watermelon on the coffee table. You fold your legs underneath you and inch closer to see what he’s actually doing. He’s been at it for a few minutes now, but all you see are lines of text and windows you can’t even pretend to understand.

“Yes, you do. And you did turn it off,” he says, gesturing at the screen. It’s full of stuff that might as well be in a foreign language. “These are malware. See this? Classic spyware script. You probably clicked on one of those fake play buttons with a hot singles ad or something.”

You give him a baleful look. He snorts.

“You’re not funny. And I watch porn on twitter like a normal person– okay sometimes maybe I do watch on shady websites but why do you even know that? And why are you interested in my porn.”

“You watch porn on twitter?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Hm. Interesting,” he nods and turns to the screen again. “Well, I wanna know what you like.”

You almost fall off the sofa. “Like you want me to give you a list of porn accounts?”

Jungkook actually laughs at that. “What? No. I mean, I'm interested in the porn you like.”

Oh.

“Uhm, I don’t particularly like anything,” you say, although maybe you immediately think of those videos where the woman is on the guy’s lap and he fingers her hard in front of the camera – but other than that, not really. You aren’t some freakazoid about porn. Most of the time, you were fine getting off with pure imagination. “I don’t like BDSM though, I think.”

Jungkook nods, but his eyes are not really on you and instead focused on your laptop as he does things. “Hmm.”

Your head snaps in his direction. “What do you mean, hmm?”

Jungkook meets your stare. “What?”

You study his face, narrowing your eyes. But he just looks at you in confusion, although there’s a little smile tugging at his lips. You drop it anyway, reaching for the watermelon cuts on the coffee table and start eating them as you watch whatever magic Jungkook is doing on your device.

“Anyway, I pirate a lot of movies so there’s that.” You thought that would be helpful to share. Those sites do have a lot of those pop-up ads, and you’d really rather endure that than have some big fuckass streaming corporation steal from you every month.

“I know, I’m just teasing about the porn websites,” Jungkook chuckles when you glare at him. “I could share my streaming accounts with you. I think I have everything.”

Your eyes light up almost instantly, but then you manage to catch yourself.

“Uh, no, you don’t really need to do that…”

He hums, goes back to your laptop. You don’t think about it too much when you pick up a watermelon and hover it over his mouth. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to eat it off your finger, and you don’t expect the way he sucks the juices off, tongue swirling around your digit while looking into your eyes. It feels like the whole moment took a minute, but in reality it was really only a few seconds, and Jungkook’s back to doing his thing on your laptop.

Oh.

Oh… okay. Well.

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks as you drop your hand to your side, absentmindedly eating your watermelon bites.

Ugh. When will your period end?! Given, it’s only really day two, and you probably have two or three more days to go but ugh…

Your thoughts are interrupted when Jungkook suddenly speaks, rising to his feet.

“All done. I installed a better antivirus, and I logged in my streaming accounts so you don’t get malware again. Also turned off some useless background programs because you had too many running– and I recovered your excel file,” he says, and you give him a grateful smile as you take your laptop and bring it to your chest like it’s your baby. Jungkook chuckles at the sight. “I have to go to the toilet, though. Want to order in and watch something when I’m back?”

“Yeah, sure! Toilet’s over there,” you point to the far right direction of the apartment and watch Jungkook disappear into view to enter the bathroom.

You’re hacking away on your laptop when a phone starts buzzing on the coffee table.

Jungkook’s phone.

You hesitate. You don’t want to knock on the bathroom door just to hand it to him, but you don’t feel right ignoring it either.

The buzzing stops, and you feel relieved for all of one second when it suddenly starts again.

You lean slightly over – not really reaching, just peeking – to see who it is. What if it’s work? What if it’s important? You could tell him about it when he comes back…

The screen lights up with a name: Dad.

You gasp. Just a little.

The bathroom door creaks open behind you and you straighten up like you weren’t doing anything. Jungkook walks out, toweling his hands on his jeans.

“Oh, hey, someone's calling you.”

He gives you a curious look before he crosses the room. You try not to watch too closely as he picks up his phone, but you see it; the way his brows knit together, the way his stance and tone shift when he looks back at you.

“I need to take this real quick” He gestures to the phone. You nod.

He walks far enough that you can’t really make out the conversation, but when you take a peek to look at him, he looks so serious. You’ve only ever seen serious Jungkook when he was at work.

A few seconds later, he returns – apologetic eyes, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey, I got called into work just now. I’m sorry we can’t have dinner tonight.”

Oh, so you were right! It was a work thing. Still… you wonder why his dad was the one calling.

“No, it’s fine! It must be super important,” you say quickly. “Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow instead?” You say, smiling up at him brightly.

Jungkook breaks into a smile. Then, out of nowhere, he steps closer and leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Kissing, that is. Just this morning, he drove you to work and you made out before he even started the engine. Then later. After parking, his hands wandered a little too much before you swatted him off, gently reminding him that your breasts were feeling tender from your period.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then just like that, Jungkook makes his way out of the apartment, and you don’t even know that you’ve been smiling like crazy until the black screen of your laptop catches your silly expression.

You miss Jungkook.

Okay— well. It’s just been two days, really. Well, more like today is day two. So it’s actually just been a full day. But there were no texts yesterday, and there were certainly no calls either. You haven’t seen him come out of his apartment, and you hate that you’re starting to worry.

You were debating whether to send him a message or not when suddenly, your doorbell rings. You weren’t expecting any visitors, especially not today when it was still so early in the morning and you have to go to work soon! But maybe it was your landlord, complaining about something again…

You groan at that, snatching your bag from the counter, planning to head straight to work after dealing with whoever it is. You slide your shoes on, ready for that condescending landlord tone only to freeze when you open the door.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, acting like you’ve just seen a ghost. And he seems to think so as well, cocking his head to the side at the unusual greeting. “You’re here.” you blurt out.

“Yeah, I went back to my place last night but only for awhile. We launched a system yesterday and something broke in production. QA didn’t catch it, so now we had to roll it—” as if he thought he was sparing you with some boring talk, he cuts himself off and smiles at you instead. “I had to work overtime. I’m sorry I missed dinner last night.”

“Eh, don’t worry. It’s not that serious. I know you're extra busy these days. Anyway, are you on the way to work?” Jungkook nods. “We should go together, then.”

“I was just going to say that.”

You step out of your apartment, and Jungkook waits for you to lock up before you both walk side by side down the stairs. You don’t know why but somehow, having seen him today and walking with him to his car where you’re gonna be riding in together to go to work was giving you a sense of contentment that you missed yesterday. Okay, so maybe this was a thing that was starting to grow on you. And maybe being with Jungkook genuinely makes you feel happy – giddy, for the most part. But it felt silly to have missed him when it was only really a day…

But you didn’t really want to dwell on that. It wasn’t Jungkook’s obligation to drive you to work everyday, and you certainly aren’t entitled to his undivided attention when you know exactly just how hectic his work schedule is. You couldn’t ask him to make time for you, even though you would like that.

“Oh!” Jungkook startles beside you when you suddenly halt. You look at him, wide-eyed. “Jungkook, it’s September first today!”

Jungkook checks his phone, brows furrowed. “Yes…?”

You eye him incredulously. “It’s your birthday!”

At first, the words didn’t seem to register, but Jungkook slowly nods. “Ah yeah, it’s my birthday today.”

“Why do you sound so unexcited?” You pout.

He chuckles, stepping closer to brush away a stray of hair you hadn’t even noticed had fallen across your face.

“Baby, it’s just another day.”

You feeze at the word. It’s the first time he called you that outside of you two… fooling around. It slips naturally from his mouth in that situation, but hearing it in this very non-sexual context was kind of throwing you off-balance – because this moment wasn’t supposed to feel intimate. Not like that, anyway.

Looking away, you say, “Still. You should do something to celebrate. Oh! I think… oh…” your eyes widen at the thought of throwing him a mini-party tonight. Obviously, Jungkook doesn't make a big deal of his birthdays, based on his response. But you thought about baking him a cake. And cookies! He liked the cookies you made last time! And you were practicing cakes these days so maybe it’d be nice to make him a small one. You turn to him with hopeful eyes. “Are you free tonight?”

Jungkook hesitates, but he smiles down at you. “Yeah, I’m free tonight. Why?”

You grin. “You’ll have to come to my place to find out! Oh, it’s gonna be fun. Ugh, I wish we can invite Jimin…”

You’re honestly proud of yourself for not breaking down when the piping tip you bought turns out to be the wrong one. The blue icing on your apron now looks like abstract art, and there’s enough sugar on your kitchen floor to summon an army of rants.

You just wanted the cake to be perfect. The cookies already were – but the cake, maybe not so much. And it was fine! It tasted fine! But the decorating sucked and at this point you just kind of wish Jungkook would look past the awkward lettering and appreciate the effort behind all these.

You didn’t have much time. He texted you after work that he couldn’t drive you home. He had to stay late, which actually worked out because it gave you the extra time you needed to prepare.

Although for the record, this wasn’t even a real surprise. You just made baked goods. And you cooked some food. And by cook you scratched off the chicken shop’s label and put it in the microwave to heat it up by the time you finished cleaning up your place since Jungkook was gonna be here by 11pm.

Which is why, at 10:40, you rush to the shower.

When you’re done, you step in front of the mirror to check yourself out. You’ve rummaged through your closet and found an old lingerie you don’t remember ever putting on. You remember it as one of those “feel-good” purchases awhile ago.

It’s nothing special, really. Just your usual black lace two-piece. The bra’s light and sheer, made of floral lace with thin straps that sat neatly on your shoulders. There are little pink bows too on them, which kind of made it cute. It didn’t offer much coverage, what with your nipples poking through the fabric – but that seemed to be the point. Meanwhile the panties are just as bold; crotchless, cut daringly open in the center, but softened by the same delicate lace. The set originally had garter straps and thigh-high stockings, but you thought that would be an overkill so you opted out of it.

You cover it up with a casual white dress, spritzing on the La Belle perfume Jungkook always seems to like a little too much.

There, everything’s done. Your period’s gone too, obviously, (day four, thank god) almost as if it knew not to ruin this night for you.

When you head out of your bedroom, you pick your phone up from the kitchen counter to dial Jungkook’s phone.

He usually answers on the first or second ring, but this time, he doesn’t. Wasn’t unusual or anything, given how busy he is… but you do frown when the ringing ends and there’s nothing that comes next but his voicemail.

Your frown deepens. You shift from one foot to the other, glancing at the clock. It’s past eleven now. Fifteen minutes past, to be exact.

Jungkook’s not usually late to things.

You sigh, trudging to one of the chairs in the dining area where you prepared the food and cake for him. You also bought wine and lit up a candle.

You stare at your phone for a solid minute before you pick it up again, deciding to send Jungkook a text.

You [11:16pm]: hey!! are you running late :>

You chose to add the emoticon in the end so the text doesn’t feel too mysterious or broody or serious. Really, you aren’t mad, maybe a little upset now – but maybe Jungkook’s just in the middle of something… what was that again? Someone breaking in production, whatever that meant…

But the clock turns 11:25, and there is still no sign of Jungkook on your phone – and even more so on your door.

You [11:25pm]: are you busy? sorry if im bothering you!

Then on second thought, you added:

You [11:26pm]: oh no pls dont tell me you forgot.. 🙁

Maybe he did forget. You hadn’t reminded him of it when you talked earlier. Did you have to? He said he was free tonight, so you kind of assumed…

You sigh again.

The chicken was turning cold and so was the other food on the table.

You pick up a cookie to nibble on it, thinking of why Jungkook would forget. Or why he wouldn’t text you back or return your call.

At eleven thirty, you stand up from your seat, suddenly feeling so… so silly. Silly about the food. Silly about the cake. Silly about your dress. And most especially, you feel silly about the lingerie that’s hidden underneath.

How silly. To plan all these in expectation of what… Jungkook’s company?

But it was his birthday. And you wanted to throw him a party, thought it would mean something to him, even though it’s not that much. But you did go through a lot of trouble to put this all out… but he also didn’t ask you either. So really, you have no right to feel upset over him not making good on his promise.

Wait, did he promise anything though? No, he didn’t. Not really. He just said he was free tonight. No promises. Maybe his schedule changed again and he needed to work overtime.

You start putting away the food in the fridge, not even having the energy to eat something for dinner. You go back to your room, stripping yourself off and changing into some comfortable pajamas before throwing yourself on the bed.

Still no texts.

It’s 11:42pm when it comes.

You hate how fast your body reaches for your phone to see who it was, lighting up when you see Jungkook (Unit 446) on the caller ID, even more so when you answer it.

“Hey, I got your texts. I’m so sorry, __—”

“It’s fine!” you nibble on your bottom lip as you try to contain your excitement. “Are you coming soon?”

“I– no, ba—” you flinch involuntarily when you hear him cut himself off. You were so sure he was going to call you baby, but he corrected himself quickly. “You remember the thing I mentioned this morning? The rollback didn’t go as planned. I’m working overtime tonight again so I can’t really go…”

“Oh…”

“Did you plan something? It’s just my birthday, __. Maybe we can go somewhere tomorrow?” Jungkook chuckles on the other end of the line, and for the first time it didn’t make you feel giddy or whatever.

You pick on the bed sheet before answering. “Uh, no. It’s not anything big, actually. I just made you some cookies. And ordered some food. But anyway I just ate dinner first because you took so long,” the lie rolls off your tongue easier than you expected. His laugh made you feel shitty. You know he didn’t mean anything by it – but it just made you feel so… so unimportant.

And suddenly, you want to downplay the whole thing. Because clearly, he thinks it’s no big deal.

“Hey, are you upset?” His tone shifts — gentler now.

“Ah, no. Sorry. I’m so tired and sleepy,” you fake a yawn and snuggle on the bed. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow when you’re here?”

Tomorrow is now your least favorite word. You’ve heard it too many times from him lately.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

Then you hear him sigh.

“I’m sorry again, I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need to!” you tell him, making sure to say that as cheerfully as possible. Jungkook doesn’t need to. It’s not like you were dating or something for you to be upset over him bailing on you. “Really, it’s fine. Hey, I’m really, really sleepy now. Good night?”

“Okay, sorry. Sleep well, __. Tomorrow, okay?”

You hum, not sure if you believe that. Maybe tomorrow he’s going to have to do overtime again. Maybe tomorrow he won’t be here again.

Whatever.

It wasn’t a big deal.

You end the call, but before you can drop your phone onto the nightstand, you type out one last message.

You [11:45pm]: happy birthday!

You didn’t get much sleep last night. Not like your body clock has ever been particularly reliable,

This morning, you didn’t really think that much about it when you put the cake in a container and dropped it off at Jungkook’s door on your way down the stairs. You figured you could’ve eaten it, but you made it for him and anyway… it was his birthday and you still think he deserves a cake. He didn’t exactly seem like he was celebrating last night.

You took the bus to work. Nothing unusual, nothing exciting. Just another day dragging your limbs through the same monotonous rhythm. Your brain feels like it’s moving on autopilot by the time you tap your company ID at the building entrance and wait in line for the elevator.

Slipping inside, you wedge yourself into a spare corner, arms crossed as the lift fills and empties floor by floor. Eventually, it’s just you and one other woman left. She steps out when the elevator dings, cradling her phone against her shoulder as she barks something stressed into the line.

Instinctively, you lean forward and press the hold button, stepping onto the side when you take notice of someone going in, only to realize it was Jungkook.

It’s funny, really. Somehow, he only ever seems to appear when he’s the last person you’re ready to see.

“Oh– good morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, dipping your head in a polite little nod. The words sound awkward even to your own ears, stiff. You’ve never had to think about how to interact with him in the workplace.

Judging by the slight flicker on Jungkook’s face, he thinks it sounds weird too. But he recovers quickly, offering a faint smile as he steps in.

You return his smile, just as polite, and inch a little further to the side – so far that your back nearly presses to the elevator wall, creating an unnecessary gap between you.

The silence is noticeable. Tense, but it’s civil at least. You glance at the floor numbers blinking overhead, half-hoping this ride doesn’t last long.

Then Jungkook shifts in your periphery.

“Hey, about last night—”

The elevator dings.

It’s your floor.

You step out quickly, almost too quickly, heart tapping a little faster than it should.

You don’t look back.

You didn’t expect to get a text from Jungkook that night.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [9:37pm]: Do you wanna drive home together?

You made a mental note to give him a reply but it’s thirty minutes later that you remembered about it.

You [10:11pm]: hey sorry I just got home

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:14pm]: Okay Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:14pm]: Please come over tonight? I’m cooking

You [10:16pm]: i'm not sure if I can You [10:17pm]: i’ll try to. I brought home some work :/

He doesn’t give a reply after that.

And maybe that – weirdly – made you irritated. He’d texted first, and he’d asked you over. You gave a soft no, not even a hard one, and he didn’t even try again? Just left it like that?

You sigh and close the lid of your laptop. For once, you hadn’t lied about being busy with work. It was just a few reports you figured you could finish now to make tomorrow lighter and easier. It was nothing really urgent.

But you do feel sort of guilty about it.

Your door buzzes, and you have second thoughts whether or not you ordered dinner.

When you open the door, it felt like deja vu.

“Jungkook.” you say, blinking.

“Are you still working?” He’s in his work clothes, though the sleeves of his button-up are slightly rolled now. It looks like he just got home not long ago.

You glance at the laptop on the coffee table. “No, I just finished…”

“Okay, then I have a question,” Jungkook steps inside, and you unconsciously take a step back at that, looking at him curiously. He watches you carefully. “Are we okay?”

Caught off guard, you stammer when you say, “I– yeah! Sure, why wouldn’t we be?”

He doesn’t say anything for a beat, then, “You seemed a little off this morning. I thought maybe it was about last night.”

You try to wave it off, suddenly nervous about Jungkook being so straight-forward. Usually, men were so emotionally stunted as you are and never faced their problems head-on.

“No, I mean, it’s fine. You were probably so busy. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“But it did kind of matter.”

You exhale, shifting uncomfortably. “Okay, maybe I was a little upset. But it’s not like I’m mad mad.”

“I figured,” Jungkook says, voice soft. “And I get it if you don’t want to hang out tonight, but I still wanted to try. I know I’ve flaked twice now, but I meant what I said, about making it up to you.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “With food?”

He smiles faintly. “With food. Amongst other things.”

That earns a chuckle from you. You’re not over it – unfortunately – but something about the way he’s standing there, almost cautious, makes it hard to keep your walls all the way up.

“So,” he asks gently. “Will you come?”

Taking a deep breath, you unintentionally look down at your socks.

“Only if there’s wine…” you say softly.

Jungkook’s smile spreads. “There’s wine.”

You sigh and start toeing your slippers off. “If it’s terrible, I’m leaving in five minutes.”

“I can live with that.”

Inside Jungkook’s place, the lights are unusually dim, the apartment warm with the scent of garlic and something buttery. A jazz record plays at the far corner, and you only noticed then that Jungkook owned a vinyl player – which you kind of didn’t expect – you sort of pegged him as the type to not have time to listen to music.

Meanwhile, he goes straight to the kitchen counter, where you watch him by the stove, plating food like a professional. You realized he had been cooking, and that’s why his tie was a little loose and his hair kind of a muss.

You don’t really know what to say, so you try to break the silence with, “Uhm, wow.”

Jungkook glances at you, mouth lifting at the corner. “I try sometimes.”

The obvious faux humility makes you laugh. You know exactly that he knows you’re impressed by the whole thing.

And you haven’t even eaten his food yet.

Walking in slowly to the dining area, your eyes skim over the table where there are real wine glasses, cloth napkins, and a lit candle.

“So what’s the occasion?” You ask, sitting on the chair, watching Jungkook as he heads towards your direction, bringing in the food he was preparing. You smile up at him. “Guilt?”

He chuckles under his breath, and you’re almost glad that the joke lands.

“Maybe. Also I figured you deserve a proper dinner, made by me. Since someone went out of their way to make me one.”

You hum. “Can’t believe you stood me up on your own birthday.”

He brings the plates over and sits across from you. “I cooked,” he says. “Try it before you decide if I’m forgiven.”

You eye the food, a little surprise at how he mustered up a risotto with seared scallops, and of course perfectly plated. Like he’s just so good at everything he does… wait, did Jungkook go to culinary school? You’re starting to think that.

“You know how to make risotto?”

“I know how to do a lot of things,” he meets her gaze.

Yeah, you know that was a hundred percent true…

You take a bite, careful not to let any expression slip while Jungkook watches closely, not really digging in on his own plate.

And as expected, the risotto’s annoyingly good. You didn’t doubt it from Jungkook, though. Being good at cooking was just one of the many qualities that made him so… so whatever.

“Okay, fine. I’m mildly impressed,” you comment, sipping on the wine to hide the small smile tugging at your mouth. Your very expression contradicts your words, and you know Jungkook can see through you.

He leans back in his chair, obviously satisfied. “Mildly?”

“You still missed your birthday dinner. That knocks off some points.”

He gives you a small smile. “I really didn’t expect it to be a birthday dinner, baby.”

You shrug off the nickname by having more bites of the risotto. You wonder if Jungkook was being deliberate when he said that, or if it was just going to be a thing between you now.

“You didn’t ask… and well, I was going to surprise you.” Now you pout at the memories of last night again. “There was chicken.”

Jungkook looks at you in surprise. “You cooked?”

You eye him. “Yeah, I scratched the tapes off the takeout boxes and put it in the microwave.” Jungkook laughs, the crinkles on the sides of his eyes showing. It makes you smile to see him like that. “Well,” you say eventually, “you’ve redeemed yourself a little.”

Jungkook leans in again, riding along, “Only a little?”

“We’ll see if there’s dessert.”

Jungkook smirks, and you both continue to eat.

After awhile, he glances at you. “You’re not mad,” he says, as if treading softly. “But… you were disappointed, right?”

You shake your head. “No. I just—” You see Jungkook raising a brow. “I just thought it’d be nice. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, it was your birthday! Now I feel bad ‘cause it’s like I’m making this all about me.” you chuckle at the realization.

You look at Jungkook when you realize he’s not really laughing with you.

You flinch a little when his hand reaches out to yours. His thumb caresses your knuckles as he tells you softly, “Hey, I know it would’ve been nice. I’m really sorry I missed it.”

“It’s fine…” it’s a good thing Jungkook lets go immediately.

But you find yourself wanting to share with him that you baked him a cake too. About the lingerie… but that felt stupid now. Wait, did he even get the cake you left at his porch this morning?

As if he read your mind, Jungkook suddenly rises up from his chair.

“Wait a second,” he walks past you, disappearing into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and comes back into view with a single slice of cake.

Your cake. The one you made for him.

You stare. “Is that—?”

“You left it outside my door this morning,” he says, placing it on the table. You blink up at him, mouth slightly open. “I thought I’d save it, you know? In case you ever stopped pretending you didn’t care.”

It felt a little pointed, but with the smile on his face you’re not really sure.

“You really don’t play fair.”

“Not trying to.” he says simply with a small smile before sitting again.

“So. Is this your apology routine? Fancy dinner, smooth jazz, and then hoping I forget you bailed?”

He smiles into his own glass of wine. “If I wanted you to forget, I wouldn’t have brought out the cake.”

You raise a brow. “You brought that out to make a point.”

“I did.”

“You’re kind of smug about it.”

“I’m good at making points,” he says, “Especially when someone keeps insisting nothing’s wrong.”

You frown, somehow not really liking the confirmation that he does think you’re making a big deal about this.

“I said I was fine.”

“You keep saying that,” his voice is quieter now, but a little edged. “But you’ve been smiling like it’s your job since you got here. And I know it’s not real.”

You recoil at that, not expecting to be called out. The sudden shift of the atmosphere is palpable as you lean back on the couch.

“What do you want me to say?” you let out a humorless chuckle. “That I was upset? You hurt my feelings?”

Jungkook’s expression changes, but his voice doesn’t falter. “I wanna know how you feel.”

You look away. “Do you want me to admit that maybe I cared more than I should?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you mean it.”

He leans forward, "I mean,” he starts, “that it wasn’t nothing. You made me dinner. You planned something for me. That’s not small. And I want you to know that I want to apologize when I make these mistakes.”

You don’t really think it through when you say, “It’s not like we’re together, Jungkook.”

That makes him pause. You can’t find it in you to take it back, because… it was true, right? The whole thing felt like… like you were a couple in a fight. And you aren’t.

“Still not an excuse.” he says after awhile.

You let out a breath, almost a laugh, frustrated. You wish Jungkook hadn’t brought it up, and you wish you aren’t reacting the way you are right now.

“You know, you didn’t seem bothered about it when we talked on the phone.”

“Because I thought you were okay.”

“Well, surprise,” you flash him a tight smile. “Turns out I’m not as chill as I thought.”

His voice lowers. “I never thought you were chill.” You can’t help but glance at him sharply. “I thought you were trying really hard to seem like you didn’t care, because maybe you thought I might not care back.”

That lands harder than it should, and you feel your throat tighten.

“I should go,” you stand up, not wanting to have any more of this conversation. You wish Jungkook would just drop it. You told him, you were upset – but he’s making a big deal about it.

Jungkook stands up too, stepping closer to you. His height looms over you, but his presence feels calm and collected.

“You could,” he says in that deep voice. “But you won’t.”

You take in a sharp breath when he presses until you can feel the heat of his body. You’re confused about the sudden turn of events, but there’s something about Jungkook right now, his voice dropping low, his gaze… almost as if…

“Oh?” you decide to challenge him, not wanting to waver.

“You stayed. And now you’re standing this close,” he says, gaze dropping to your mouth. “Looking like you want me to make you forget why you were upset in the first place.”

You swallow, suddenly feeling heated in that other way.

“A-and if I do?”

One hand brushes past your hip, and you stand there grounded, unconsciously holding your breath.

“Then you let me.”

You kiss him first – not really sure why and how it happened – but you do, on instinct. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. It’s fast, and there’s frustration from you bubbling under, heat blooming behind your ribs like a fuse finally lit.

Jungkook kisses you back harder though, catching you on time – always catching you on time – walking you backwards into the living room where he lays you down on the couch, hovering over you.

His voice is rough against your skin when he breaks away to whisper, “Are you still upset?”

Your hands grip his shirt. “I would be if you don’t continue kissing me.”

That makes him smile, murmuring, “You’re a brat.”

“Do you like it?”

He inhales a sharp breath against your jaw, nipping. “I really do.”

In an instant, his hands were around your waist, your back pressed against the back of the sofa. Your breath hitches when his mouth drops to your ear, making your knees weaken slightly.

“Do you– do you kiss everyone you disappoint like this?” you mutter, hands sliding under his shirt where you feel his abs clench.

“No,” he says, lips peppering kisses down your neck, voice low. It sends shivers down your spine and makes your thighs clench together. “Just the ones who microwave chicken for me.”

It earns a chuckle from you – sharp, breathless – and tug the collar of his shirt, starting to undo his buttons until sculpted chest is revealed. You’re about to pull the material off him when Jungkook catches your wrist.

“Still upset?” he asks.

You click your tongue. “Maybe.”

He grins. “Good.”

He kisses you again. Slow this time, like he knows you’d let him now. And you do. Your fingers dig into his shoulder as he deepens it, tongue brushing yours in a way that makes your head fog over. He tastes like wine and smugness… but you find you like it. Jungkook moves in such a way that screams he knows exactly what he’s doing.

His shirt is off in a second, leaving him in his slacks and belt, mouth moving lower over your throat, your collarbone, until they reach your cleavage made easily accessible with the neckline of your camisole. You arch into the touch without much thinking, and when Jungkook whispers against the peak of your nipple if he could take your shirt off, you nod.

“Sorry, this isn’t my proudest bra ever,” you tell him, fingers slipping through his hair.

Jungkook chuckles. “I’m gonna take it off, anyway.”

He lifts you up effortlessly, squeezing your ass as you yelp but helping you wrap your legs around his waist. Before you can say anything, he shuts up with a searing hot kiss, and you let him carry you to the bedroom with ginger steps, like he’d done it a hundred times before in his head. God, you hope he did just like you do.

You don’t know how exactly it happened but your bra is off the moment he lowers you down on the bed, tugging the cups off your chest and letting his hand take reign on one boob while he licks the other one with his hot tongue, swirling it around your nipple that makes you gasp and shift on the bed.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

Crawling over you, you meet his heavy gaze as he asks, “Are you sure about this?”

If the heat in between your thighs is any more indication of how sure you are, he can check. But you tug him down by the waistband of his slacks to tell him, “I’ve been sure.”

“Just checking, because once we start…” he murmurs, gaze dropping on your lips. As if he can’t help it, he closes his mouth around yours. Then his hand slides down, feathery touch causing goosebumps all over your skin. It stops on your inner thigh where you take a sharp breath because he was so close to where you wanted him to be.

“I want you now,” you say, a bit irritated.

He chuckles, dark. Low. He retracts his hand and smirks when you give him a glare.

“I wanna take my time with you, sweetheart. Don’t rush me.”

To prove his point, he kisses you again – hot and passionate, but also aguishly slow like he’s savoring every brush of your tongue and he has all the time in the world for it.

You’re flushed beneath him, breathless as his hands wander all over your body. He nips the skin of your neck, obviously teasing, leaving goosebumps on his trail. When his hand cups the heat in between your legs, your hips unconsciously buck, your grip on his shoulders tightening at the contact.

“I should’ve come to dinner,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Y-yeah,” you manage, “you should’ve.”

“I can’t believe I missed this yesterday.”

You gasp when his thumb presses on your mound, feeling like you’ve been electrocuted by the touch. Jungkook seems to take note of your oversensitivity, as he watches you with your mouth hanging slightly open.

“Don’t worry, baby. I plan to make it up to you real good,” he leans back for a second to tug the waistband of your pants, and you don’t hesitate to lift yourself up a little to help him slide it off your legs together with your panties. You bite your bottom lip as you observe him watching the way the material clings to your pussy at the slickness. A smirk tugs at his lips. “I guess I’ve made you wait too long, didn’t I?”

Your reply dissolves into a sharp inhale as he puts two of his fingers in his mouth and wedges them in between your folds, leaning down to plant a kiss on your parted mouth. His fingers move inside you, curling in slow rhythm, his thumb teasing just enough to keep your hips lifting off the bed.

“You’re so soaked, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he slowly slides them out, smirking when you whimper at the loss of contact. He inserts them again, this time taking on a steady pace. His fingers make you feel so full, just like they did back at the motel – and you wouldn’t dare lie to yourself and say you haven’t been looking forward to this again. By the way you can’t keep the soft moans escaping past your lips, Jungkook must’ve known too.

Slick sounds bounce off the wall, and you try to keep it to a minimum by minimizing your moans and pressing the back of your hand to your mouth but Jungkook catches your wrist quickly, as if he knew what you were about to do.

“No, baby, let me hear you,” he says, pinning your hand up against the headboard. “I want to know how much you want this, how much you like my fingers fitting right in your pussy,” he looks down, then unexpectedly, he brings his soaked digits up to your face. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment when you see how wet they are with your juices, whimpering when he inserts them in his mouth with no second thoughts, licking them obscenely. You whimper when he shuts his eyes close, looking intoxicated.

“Shit,” he hisses, “Tastes just as good as I remember it.”

“J-jungkook,” you whine, wanting him to do something already.

“I know,” he smirks, a little smug. “Should I go faster? Is that what you like?”

“Please…” you cry out, holding on to his wrist.

He chuckles darkly and just as when you were about to say something else again, he curls the same fingers in you, but this time he plunges them in and out at a faster pace. At that, you don’t hold back the moans you’ve been keeping trapped in your throat.

Legs tensing, Jungkook continues to fuck you with his fingers, moving like an expert; determined to make you fall apart – and you’re nothing but soft cries, heated, fingers tightening around his wrist as your orgasm creeps up your toes to your spine.

“F-fuck…” you sigh when Jungkook dives in your chest again, nipping and sucking at the flesh you were sure he was going to leave marks. “Feels so good, Koo…”

He hums against your skin, curling his fingers and digging in deep that your thighs shake uncontrollably. But Jungkook’s hold on your hip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from thrashing underneath him at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Yeah? You’re making such a mess on my hand, baby,” he husks out.

“S-sorry.”

He chuckles. “You’re beautiful,” He breaks away from your tits to stare at you. Moving away some of the hair that has gotten on your face, he says, “Are you close?”

“Yes, god, yes. Please, I’m so close…”

You can feel yourself about to reach your climax, so you move your hand to seek relief to your clit. But Jungkook catches you off-guard when he moves further down your body. You let out a lewd moan when he licks along your slit, sucking in your folds – your juices making a wet, spongy sound as he slurps. When he closes his mouth around your clit, you cry out and grab his hair quite harshly.

But Jungkook only hums against your pussy, the vibration only making you drip more. He ravishes your nub with his tongue, quick and steady, and so are his fingers in and out of your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moan, body convulsing at your impending orgasm, shutting your eyes close and focusing on the way his tongue tugs at your clit. “Kook, I’m coming, fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

He pulls off with a smack only to tell you “in my mouth” before going back to business again. You listen to his small grunts, his hums, and until then, you feel your body spasming when the coil at your stomach breaks.

Jungkook puts his hand on your lower stomach, pressing you down as you wriggle underneath him, thighs shaking at your orgasm. He licks until you’re pulling his head out of your mound. He takes his fingers out of your spongy walls, spreading your wetness instead around your folds, as if calming you down from your high.

“Good, baby, good…” he murmurs, gripping your thighs to steady you. Then he leans down and presses kisses over them.

You let your back relax on the mattress, shutting your eyes close and catching your breath.

You hear a drawer pull open, and when you finally open your eyes, you see Jungkook with a condom pinched in between his fingers.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Jungkook skates his fingers through his hair, and you suddenly got the urge to jump him right then and there when you saw the sheer wetness on his jaw, his sculpted chest and the abdominal muscles that sit perfectly on his stomach, his tattoo sleeve – he looked like an absolute dream then, but you knew you were in for a ride when your eyes cast a look at the erection inside his slacks. Jungkook makes quick work of unbuckling his leather belt, and the way the metal clink with each other scratches a part of your brain that screams want, want, want and maybe Jungkook caught on, because he follows your gaze to the belt, clicking his tongue when he throws the leather away somewhere on the floor.

“Next time, sweet girl,” he says, sounding like he meant it. You can feel your cheeks heating under his gaze and the implication of his words, chest pounding as he unbuttons and unzips his pants together with his boxers.

“I…” You watch in quiet fascination when his rock hard dick slaps against his lower abdomen, biting your lip at the sight. It was just as long and girthy as you remember it.

He hums. “You want to play next time, we’ll do that. But eyes up here first,” Jungkook instructs, and you do look at him when he says so, feeling your legs clamping together at his slightly commanding tone. He tugs your legs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, and so you lift off the mattress slightly and rest your elbows against the soft sheets. Jungkook smiles at you as he kneels between your spread legs, “You look beautiful like this, baby. Do you know how much I’ve been wanting to do this?” he asks as he rips open the condom, pinching the tip and putting it over his cock in quick succession.

“I’ve been waiting for you…” you say, not really sure what you mean, touching his chest because you can. He’s so warm and so big, and your pussy aches at the thought of him finally entering you.

It felt greedy, to want to cum again when you just did not even a full minute ago.

“I know,” he strokes his cock for good measure, and you let out a soft gasp when he hikes your leg over his hip, nudging your other leg to the side. He inserts a finger in your pussy, hissing at your wetness. “Fuck, you are soaked, baby…”

“Put it in,” You whine, chest heaving up and down as you watch Jungkook with half-lidded eyes. His hand wraps around his dick, strokes it for a moment before gripping near the tip and bringing it closer to your aching heat.

You moan when the first inch of his cock goes in, mouth gaping at the intrusion. Jungkook’s eyebrows knit as he adjusts your leg higher on his hip, pushing deeper.

“Look at me,” he instructs, “You can take it, right, baby? You’re so wet, so pretty…”

“I– yes, yes– shit,” you let out a shaky breath, “you’re s-so big, fuck,”

“You’re taking it so well,” he murmurs, voice low and dripping with honey. He gives a gentle, almost subtle thrust that almost knocks you out of the bed.

“Yes, yes, fuck… give it to me, Kook, I want you so bad…”

“Yeah? I’m gonna move in a sec, angel, play with your tits for me.”

You nod your head and do as told, letting your hands wander all over your body before fondling your breasts, moaning instantly at the pleasure.

“Tell me if it hurts,” is what he says before he slips an arm beneath your waist, holding you up, a shudder escaping past his lips when he slowly pushes more past your tight walls. You choke out a moan, a broken sob coming out of it when he finally bottoms out inside of you.

“Ah…”

He hisses, fingers digging at your waist as he withdraws from your heat and only the tip of his cock is in you, the scene with it sitting on your soaked pussy enough to send him into an overdrive.

“You’re so fucking tight holy fuck,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips back into you and finally picking up a pace that makes you whimper and cry out pathetic little moans, mind becoming fuzzy at the thrusts of his cock in your entrance.

Your walls clench at the glide of his cock against you, feeling him falter at the little stunt. But you can’t help it. Your body is on fire as Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, pulling you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his dick are tickling your skin. Your elbow shake as it loses balance, but Jungkook is quick to catch you just on time, leaning down to hover over your body, but it only makes the angle of his fuck deeper, and maybe he meant to do that too.

Your hands are quick to wrap around his shoulders as you feel the tip of his cock prodding against your cervix like he’s going all out, your hips jumping as he rams back inside.

He repeats the movement like a graceful dancer, thrusts deep and purposeful, pulling out wailing sounds from you you begin to worry if the neighbors could hear. He tucks his head against your neck and presses a kiss on the junction between your neck and shoulder, rocking his hips into you, pistoning into your squelching heat. His body is so close, so warm, sweaty skin gliding against yours.

“Fuck, fucking hell, baby – fuck, you feel so good,” Jungkook growls, finding your mouth and kissing you again. His hips snaps back into you once again, and you both swallow each other’s moans at the contact, letting your bodies rock to the sound of your fucking. His hand is on your chest immediately, squeezing everywhere until it settles on pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“Jungkook– ah, baby— fuckkkkk,” You shudder, feeling your pussy quiver at every snap and every withdrawal, and when he brings his hand to your clit and rubs it in quick circles, you screw your eyes shut, feeling that familiar wave again for the second time that night.

“Jungkook–”

“You’re gonna be a good girl and come for me, sweet girl?” Jungkook rasps out, sweaty forehead coming into view as he jackhammers into your pussy with ease, welcomed by your never-ending slick. You never thought you’d see Jungkook like that, fucking like a crazed caveman, looking like he can’t get enough but also straining himself a bit to not hurt you – because of course he wouldn’t.

“Fuck me harder, Kook, I need it– need you to… need you to—”

“Yeah?” he rocks harder, faster just like you said, and you can honestly start to feel the slight pain on your chest as they bounce at the speed, your hand flying to grab at your chest.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, unconsciously reaching for him and feeling like you’re on edge. Jungkook takes your hand and encloses it around his, thrusting into you once again before whispering against your skin to let go.

As if that was a magic phrase, you feel something inside you snap.

“Good girl, I knew you’d come for me, you always do,” Jungkook slurs. You could feel your cum dribbling out of your pussy, creaming his cock, but Jungkook continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your spasming hole, grunting against your skin, mouth leaving random, open-mouthed kisses.

He drills on, and his cock still feels so achingly hard, seemingly not anywhere near completion yet. You’re nearly mush beneath him from your current release, but you push through it as you press your hands to his chest, forceful enough to send him tumbling a little. He’s caught off-guard by that, and you take that to your advantage as you maneuver yourself to push him completely on his back, his cock sliding out of you.

He bounces off the mattress a little, looking at you curiously as you straddle his waist. Your sensitive pussy shudders at the cold of the AC in his room, and you feel like your bones have been liquefied, but you don’t let that deter you from taking ahold of his still, indeed, hard cock and sitting on it.

Jungkook inhales a sharp breath as he watches you bounce on his cock, the head disappearing and appearing in your entrance, like a show he would want to replay over and over again. And you’re determined, stretching your body and leaning back to rest your palms on his thighs for support as you take his dick, switching to a back and forth motion.

“Oh, Jungkook, god – oh my god,” and although it was supposed to be for him – for him to cum – you can honestly feel yourself about to snap again, especially when Jungkook reaches forward to rub your tit, caressing your tattoo underneath with that hungry look in his eyes, and settling on your hips like he’s enjoying the little show you’re putting up for him.

“That’s it baby, bounce on my cock – you’re doing so we…ll,” he encourages, but there’s a slight break to his tone at the end. “Shit, keep going – fuck. I’m so fucking close– you look so good,”

You swallow the saliva trapped in your throat to pick up your pace, feeling lightheaded at the overwhelming feeling of his cock prodding against your cervix everytime you go forth. His dick brushes past your clit everytime you move, and you throw your head back when you feel him starting to thrust upward.

“Are you close again, baby?” Jungkook asks, gripping your hips tight as he meets your ministration. You bite your lip at the question, only whimpering when Jungkook bucks his hips harshly. “Cum for me a third time, pretty girl. Cum with me.”

“Jungkook, I can’t, I’m so sensitive. I–”

“You can, angel. And you will.”

You mewl when Jungkook reaches for your pussy with his other hand, quickly finding your clit to rub against it again, and that pushes you to the edge quickly – orgasm snapping on an instant just like that.

Jungkook’s hips stutter, breath caught in between a curse and your name, like the sound of you undid him completely. It was a sound that you heard three days ago when he came in your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses, hips faltering at his orgasm. “Shit…”

You drop your body unceremoniously onto him, the exhaustion hitting you all at once.

Wrapping his hands around your body very gently, you feel Jungkook kissing the side of your head, making you shut your eyes close.

“Jesus.” you blurt out, whole body spent.

“Didn’t know you were religious like that…” He says with a chuckle, caressing your hair mindlessly.

You snap your head quickly to look at him at the familiar words, narrowing your eyes. Jungkook only presses a kiss to your shoulder as if that was some sort of apology, and you let it go with a playful shake of your head.

“Do you still feel bad about missing dinner?” You ask with a smile on your face.

He let out a low laugh, and the vibration through his chest feels warm against your skin.

“I’m working on making it up to you.”

“Does it really involve making me cum three times in a single night?” you arch your brow. “I think you’re overcompensating.”

Jungkoo gives you a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe.”

And before you can say anything, he flips you over and kisses you again, which makes you giggle into his mouth.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #p; writing #fic: nb #awrkive

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cat-mermaid · 2 days ago

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Ok *cracks knuckles* lets do this party people

what am i saying here i'm saying THERES A FUCKING HAND/HANDS CRAWING AROUND OUT THERE

(i didn't want to go back and dig in the text dump for it, but the translation from the japanese prophecy window for the cage says "human soul and body parts")

Kris is pulling a fast one on us, remember this part here?

throws us into the cage then slowly and theatrically pulls out the knife for us to see? See they were gonna do a naughty no no? Yet so many times after that, they make a point of shoving us somewhere and then running off so we'd have no idea wat they were up to?

Kris has been keeping us (the Soul) focused on them with their shifty behavior while "their" appendage/appendages are scooting around out there creating dark fountains and doing god knows wat else

And just to be clear: when first i saw that cage prophecy window i did think that it was supposed to be metaphorical for Kris holding the SOUL captive, but now I think differently. And to also be clear: i'm not saying that Kris's actual hands are detaching, i'm saying they have control/are in cahoots with a second pair of hands that are "theirs". So, why oh why does this kid have one or two magic hands? i guess we just have to fucking wait and find out, but heres something to chew on....

....doesn't this look a little like a hand to you?

what if there was one hand in the dark world and one in the light?

youtube

(its shows up at the 2:07 point)

also somthing somthing theres a reference to Super Smash Brothers in like every chapter so far somthing somthing MASTER HAND CRAZY HAND

somthing somthing Master Hand symbolism of using the Nintendo game characters as literal toys/puppets for its personal games

and i reiterate, the knight ain't Dess or Carole. thats like the most transparently obvious hoodwink of a thing ever, especially wat with the antlers just slapped on there. Straight up Toby chicanery and the second i saw it i said uh huh no. Kris's fucking knife is the damn knight, in cahoots with those/that hand/hands. Thats not to say that its really fucking obvious mayor Holiday is part of this somehow. I just think her sudden appearance and the whole "katana aficionado" thing following our introduction to the knight is just waaaay too convenient and might even be another planned subterfuge by Kris and whoever else for our sakes

not convinced? creep a peep at this:

do my eyes deceive me or is that our pal the Knight/KNIFE with their two partners in crime the FUCKING HANDS

whom, since i first made this post, i'm starting to suspect really might be a "master hand" "crazy hand" situation because:

...the “mantel” (maybe?) and “friend” sure are shaped alike huh

anyways friends and neighbors, remember:

#deltarune #deltarune theory #deltarune brainrot #I haven't even gotten started yet motherfuckers #deltarune spoilers

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ursus-argenteus · 47 minutes ago

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I'm an editor and a writer both and the way this post speaks to my experiences I feel like I need to comment about.

When I was young, I grew up nurtured by literature. I learned to read at an early age, but I fell in love with words and language thanks to my mother. At the time, she was a doting lover of language, story-telling, and poetry. We would often cuddle together in my parents' waterbed and read together from her books of classic poetry. I had Paul Revere's Ride memorized, though I can't remember why that poem in particular was so foundational.

Naturally I grew to love vivid, beautiful language. "Show don't tell" was ingrained in me even early as a writer, and so my fiction writing would be full of detailed - often superfluously so - descriptions of characters and scenes. I also wrote poetry, and by my late teens, was participating in slam poetry competitions online.

I look back at that era of my poetry, the incredible visuals and feelings and experiences that it gives, and wonder why I lost that.

The answer isn't simple: it's a complex weave of trauma and mental health and personal growth and college classes and career seeking that formed my young adult life. It wasn't a sudden switch - just a gradual retreat into the shadows as the style I started with withered from all of these things, including expectations.

One pivotal experience in this was my creative writing course in college. My instructor was an ex-hippy who was drunk on literary minimalism. "If you are going to write that the truck is blue," she said, "then what is the reason for it being blue? If it does not add to the story, remove that detail. For that matter, why a truck? If the truck does not reflect on the plot or the character, if it does not give meaning, then eliminate that too."

I hated that stance, and I despised this approach. But it was not the only place I encountered such smothering of prose, especially in college where academic writing is taught to absurdity, and in self-doubt, and fear of rejection, I found myself cutting away little details everywhere. I refused to be as minimalist as my instructor, but the effect was still noticeable.

Years later, I found myself stumbling into a career as a writer for online media and journalism. I had always enjoyed writing non-fiction, though it wasn't my primary passion, and as it turns out, I am good at it. There is very little room for pretty language in news media, however, and while I would often slip in a creative metaphor or delicate phrase, I found myself adhering strongly to the Plain Language Movement (Plain English). Which I still do, at least for that style of communication.

For a good ten years plus, non-fiction writing was almost entirely what I produced, outside of text roleplay and a few small stories. When I found myself stumbling again, this time into a lore writer position, I found myself falling in love all over again with fiction. But my relationship to writing fiction is no longer the same, and poetry? Hah.

It is hard for me now - four decades into my life - to find that joyful, descriptive language I once used. I have been trained out of it, and I have been abused out of it. But I do love and miss it dearly.

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

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paddockletters · 1 day ago

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redeemed | lando norris part 10

masterlist | previous part | next part

a/n: helloooo, I’m honestly so embarrassed hahaha but I’m back after such a long, loooong time. unfortunately, I hadn’t had the time to sit down and write properly, and to be honest, I ran out of ideas and didn’t want to post just for the sake of it. anyway, I really hope you liked this new part, and if you have any ideas, they’d be super helpful hahaha. thank you!!! 🫶

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lando: WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

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user: 🧡 this was so special

user: CONGRATS KING

user: the way y/n is always there when he’s doing well… i’m just saying

user: when your gf is there: silence. when y/n is there: insta dump 💀

user: if I were your gf, I’d be so mad rn 😭

user: istg she was there too!!

user: every time y/n is there, he gets a podium

user: THEY LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER STOP

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lando's pov

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yourusername

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yourusername: Recharging and vibing. Summer never felt so good ☀️🌊

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pietra.pilao: looking fab as always!

user: wonder if she’s even paying for this vacation or just tagging along?”

yoursister: so proud of you, love! Enjoy every second 💕

user: does she ever do anything without Lando or his friends?

user: she’s literally everywhere he is, it’s getting creepy now

user: just admit you’re here for the fame and money

user: Leave Lando alone, she’s ruining everything

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lando: Sun, sand, and good company ☀️

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yourusernames: george russell, that's you?

georgerusell: hahah so funny, he wish🙄 lando: nah, I'm the handsome and tanned version of him

user: Lando + Y/N + Max = dream team

user: ok but where is his actual girlfriend tho??

user: Lando, we want more pics with Y/N pls

user: y/n is literally always there. it’s getting weird now

user: Y/N again?? bro you have a girlfriend 💀

user: if lando’s gf is unbothered, why are YOU pressed?? 😭😭

user: does she not have her own life?? she’s always tagging along

user: y’all need to chill, they’ve been friends for YEARS lol

user: oh she definitely loves the attention. you can see it

lando

liked by charles_leclerc and 923,212 others

lando: tried to disconnect. failed. worth it

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lando'sgf: cutiesss, miss you so much😍😍

❤️ liked by creator

user: not y/n being in EVERY photo lando’s posted this week 😭 even when her bf’s there

user: something about the way lando looks at y/n… it’s not just best friend energy anymore

user: if i were lando’s gf and saw these posts i’d lose my mind 💀

user: ngl this is starting to feel disrespectful to his gf…

y/n's pov

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respectthepetty · 2 days ago

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I know you think having a gf thing is a joke and honestly I don't think it's a problem when bl actors have gfs or bfs, but they do get massive hate for that for real. do you know that new got so much hate for having a girlfriend? he still gets hate comments from toxic shippers that he should die for heart failure because he got heart problem? and that account that was hating on dunk was really pushing for hate. so of course it was the problem. the number one reason bl/gl actors get massive hate and death threats is literally having a gf/bf. it's a sad reality but i don't think you should treat it lightly.

I don't think this situation is a joke.

It -is- a joke.

And to show you how serious I am about this, I'm not even going to include images. This is just a giant wall of text.

Because outside of the BL-sphere, what are the repercussions of Dunk really dating a girl? What issues would he face if he was really straight? I'm going to skip over bisexuality because Lord knows half these fans don't even register that as a thing. So what harm would come his way if he was an actual heterosexual man?

Nothing. None. Nada.

If he was dating a girl, it would hurt his branded pair, but he could pivot. He could still work in other roles outside of the pair which he has done because being straight or being perceived straight isn't an issue. He would still have a job. He could even do something else outside of the industry. He'd be fine.

Because the issue isn't Dunk having a girlfriend. The issue is him stepping out on his branded pair because people are real weird about monogamy, especially when it comes to two boys because queerness actual queer people are scary to them.

So since you wanted to start with Tay and New, let me remind you that New get threats for having a girlfriend, but when Gun and Tay kissed during New's live, people went out of their way to call Gun, who is perceived as the more effeminate one, a straight up fag in the comments of his posts. Tay also got so much hate that he made a video and people's biggest issue was how could he go from such a masculine guy like New to such a twink like Gun who has never stated his sexuality. Because the issue wasn't Tay 'cheating' on his partner (with the partner literally being right next to him), but was the possibility of Tay kissing an actual gay guy.

Milk of MilkLove was rumored to be dating Noeul of BossNoeul and both of them received online hate at the mere thought they were breaking up their ships, but Noeul has received far more online and in-person hate once he started dressing and presenting a bit more effeminate than previously.

Freen of BeckyFreen was dating Seng formerly of BillySeng. The hate was ridiculous and it has followed Seng even after he departed from Idol Factory, which can easily be seen in the comment section of his posts. I genuinely feel bad for the boy, yet he still is working.

So you know who I do feel bad for all of the time? Publicly out queer folks in this industry!

Max of MaxTul dates women. People knew that and hated it because he was 'cheating' on Tul. But he still had work, and he still has work now. Because being straight does not harm people. Online hate is real. Cyberbullying is real. But Max could pivot if he wanted to like Nanon, Bright, and Win. But you know who never said he was dating anyone? The actual gay guy, Tul! And who retired from acting before he announced he was dating a man? Tul.

Cooheart has gone on record stating that being an openly gay man in the BL industry has severely limited his options. He will not be able to play a straight character because people know he is gay, so the online harassment he receives isn't because of not being faithful to a branded pair, but because he is actually gay, and that harassment has translated into him getting less jobs. He cannot pivot. He is essentially stuck.

When Supanut was hanging out with Sailub, he received more online and in-person harassment because he is the openly queer man. Sailub received comments that he was disrespecting Pon per the usual, but Supanut received comments that were directed not at him just trying to break up a ship, but about him being queer. People were equivocating him to being basically a gay hussy, who just wanted to wreck all the ships, which makes me very interested in what fan interactions will look like once I'm the Most Beautiful Count airs.

Daou gets lots of comments about disrespecting Offroad by hanging out with other guys, but the comments that really upset him were the ones saying HE WAS DISGUSTING FOR POSSIBLY BOTTOMING! Offroad stays quiet mostly, but he was bothered by people saying he was BULKING UP TOO MUCH AS A QUEER MAN!

I'm not even touching Mew and Gulf, but only one of them was labeled a predator and it wasn't the straight one!

So just because some of y'all want to take Joong liking a post about Dunk having a girlfriend seriously does not mean I need to. The online harassment is disgusting because people have parasocial relationships with actors who are simply doing their jobs, but I am not going to sit here on Tumblr dot com slash Respect the Petty and entertain this made up drama that stemmed from Joong liking a post about Dunk being perceived as a straight guy when openly gay people are being significantly more harassed, targeted, and limited for being gay in an industry that profits off of gayness.

Take all this energy you have for me and meet me in the My Sweetheart Jom chat on Friday, so every time someone mentions how Saint isn't believable in his role because he is a 'bottom,' you can give them the same lecture you want to give me about the seriousness of online harassment and its real-world repercussions.

Kay? Okay!

#it has to be a joke #because this only has consequences in a small space #being straight is not a threat #calling someone straight is not hate #it's manufactured bs #but being openly gay and getting harassed for it is serious #so I'm picking my battles #and being upset over joong x dunk divorce era 2.0 ain't it #toxic fandom

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distuff · 17 hours ago

Note

How about ‘would they be jealous if you were talking to/hanging out with someone for a long time’? Just how would they act with jealousy for all the saja boys, or baby and mystery if u don’t want to do all of the saja boys

Answer: Hello my dear readershi! Thank you for the prompt. As it gives me a tOn of creative freedom lol I hope you'll enjoy what I've created for ya ( ´ ꒳ ` ) Also! arigatou for givin mhe a choice, bUt I'll happily do all of 'em for ya. Note. The person who asked for another jealousy troupe, as well, please note that yours will be posted tomorrow if nothing major comes in between🙌

📍Requests:

OPEN

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Demon Boys' And Others With You

Featuring: Jinu Saja, Abs Saja, Mystery Saja, Romance Saja, Baby Saja Reader: Gender neutral

<><><>

Jinu Saja

🐦‍⬛ So. Let’s get one thing straight. Jinu was not the jealous type. Why bother? I mean really! He’s a demon for crying out loud! He can shift into the most handsome being, conjure up anything he wants with a snap of his fingers if he so much as wished to. He had no reason to be jealous of others - if anything, others should be jealous of him.

🐦‍⬛ So why is it that when you tell him you’ll have to cancel your date because of this “other person”, he feels like… he doesn’t have everything? His silence must have been confirmation for you. Or maybe it was the call from that other person in the background that made you hang up with a quick, “Love you!”

🐦‍⬛ Jinu doesn’t know - nor does he care as much as he cares about the setup in front of him. It took effort to kick the other guys out and get the living room to look the way it did now: pillows spread on the floor, fluffy blankets tossed around, and a perfect mix of warm and cold snacks for your lazy night together. Some random movie was already playing quietly in the background.

🐦‍⬛ It took considerable self-restraint not to set the calling device - “phone,” as humans called it - on fire, or smash it to bits. Instead, he threw it onto the couch with a dramatic groan, scowling at the feeling curling tight in his chest. It felt far too familiar for his liking - a reminder of his pathetic past.

🐦‍⬛ Jinu brushed it off the first time. Whatever. Fine. You had a life outside of him. Who cares! Not him! ... The Tiger and the Magpie gave him unimpressed stares. Or at least, the bird did. Tiger - Jinu hoped - was trying to console him, especially when he slowly walked over… only to pass him without pause and disappear into Jinu’s room. “Ungrateful cat…” Jinu muttered.

🐦‍⬛ The second time? It wasn’t even supposed to be just the two of you. The guys were also there to hang out with the two of you. Jinu refused to acknowledge the tick in his brow when you told him over the “phone” that you’d unexpectedly had to meet up with someone else.

🐦‍⬛ Jinu also pointedly ignored the sidelong glances the others were giving him. Baby looked utterly disinterested in this matter, while the rest tried to hype him up in their own... unique and completely unnecessary ways- Jinu takes it back. Baby wasn’t the asshole this time. Safe to say, when it kept happening, Jinu was starting to seriously consider binding you to him with a demonic contract.

Jinu would’ve congratulated you - for managing to make him think about anything other than his mission or his desire to reclaim his soul. But you weren’t here. Again. It wasn’t like you two didn’t hang out at all anymore... but it was less than what Jinu was used to. With a heavy sigh, Jinu closed his eyes, pressing his forearm against them as he lay sprawled in bed. Who knew what hour it was? Judging from the low hum of the honmoon barrier mingling with the underlying energy of the others, it wasn’t late enough for them to rest. Not that they needed to - but it helped pass the time when there was nothing else to do. Like right now. Right now, when Jinu could - should - be focusing on the reason he was even in the human world to begin with. But he couldn’t. Because every time he tried, his mind circled back to you. To the thought that maybe you’d figured out who - what - he was. That maybe he didn’t have whatever it was you were looking for... and you were seeking it in someone else. “Ridiculous...” he muttered. Unsure if it was aimed at himself or the situation. His thoughts betrayed him, replaying moment after moment with you. His hand reached automatically for Tiger, who had curled up on his stomach and was now purring softly. Comforting. He thought of your first meeting. The first time you went out to dinner and actually made him laugh - really laugh, not the practised kind he’d perfected over centuries. The way you smiled when you were just being you, and how that let him ease into showing bits of himself - shifting between disguise and truth. He remembered introducing you to the others. The way you slowly, but surely easier into his life more. You even hung out with th—

Jinu's eyes snapped open. He shot upright so suddenly that Tiger had to duck off the bed to avoid being smacked in the face. Jinu sat there, eyes blown wide, as a memory slammed into him like a newly turned demon. He hadn’t corrected either of them. You hadn’t been with them at the time - but knowing those idiots? There was no telling when they might’ve run into you without mentioning it and just blurring the same words in front of you. Teasingly or not, Jinu could easily imagine you not taking it well. Could it be…? His eyes narrowed, glowing gold for a brief second before flicking back to black as his ears strained, hearing the phone on his nightstand vibrate seconds before ringing. He glanced at the screen - then instantly answered it, pressing the phone to his ear. Your voice, as beautiful and soothing as always, spilled into the quiet and Jinu felt tension he didn’t even know he was holding unravel inside him. “Jinu~ Why aren’t you sleeping?” He pulled one knee up to rest his elbow on it, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he answered just as gently, “Who says you didn’t wake me up, hmm?” It seemed it was late for a human then. Hearing you laugh and shifting around in the background, Jinu zeroed his attention on you. “Because when you sleep, you sleep, hahaha!” Not true, Jinu thought - but didn’t say. He was wide awake plenty of times. But if pretending to be asleep meant you’d play with his hair longer, he’d do it every time. There was a pause. He could only hear your breathing. And usually, that was enough. It brought him peace. But even across the distance, he could feel your hesitance. A subtle uncertainty within your honmoon signature that made something twist in his chest.

Why are you hesitating… with me?

He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, fingers twitching with the urge to reach for your wavelength through the barrier as the hollowness in his chest thrummed with quiet ache. Before he met you, the void was easier to ignore - insatiable, familiar. But now… even if it wasn’t full, you brought warmth. A soft light that flickered in the emptiness where a soul should have been.

He didn’t want to go back to that empty place. He didn’t want to go back to before you. “Jinu?” you finally said his name, and the hesitation in it made him tense again. He wanted to ask, What is it? He wanted to ask, Are you going to end this? But his thoughts spiralled too fast to settle on just one question. Which was ridiculous. He had nothing to lose and nothing to give you. This whole... arrangement wasn't even there to last... That should’ve made it easier. Should’ve. But did not. Jinu let out a deep breath, realising you wouldn’t continue unless he showed he was listening. Shifting, he lay back on the pillow, gripping the phone tightly. “Yeah?” he finally breathed, ignoring Tiger’s piercing gaze and Magpie’s scrutinising stare from across the room. He expected a lot. Maybe an awkward apology - not that you needed to apologise. He’d never outright said anything was wrong. Maybe you’d tell him you weren’t comfortable anymore. Maybe— That’s why, when your next words came, his eyes widened, and he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Is something wrong?” you asked, unsure and worried. “No—No. Pffft. Nooo—why would you think that?” he said, way too quickly. Even a blind human would’ve known something was off. Another pause. Then a sigh. “Jinu…” you said his name with a tired, warning tone. He grinned shakily, even though you couldn’t see it. “Yeeees?” he drawled, teasing - but you huffed. He could almost see your expression: the smile tugging at your lips, the brow you always raised when he was clearly bullshitting. Then there was silence again. This time, Jinu broke it. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagged. Under Tiger’s drilling gaze, Magpie’s quiet judgement, and your pressing silence he finally admitted what had been weighing him down. “You never—” No, that wasn’t right. He inhaled and tried again. “We don’t spend as much time as we used to and I - I can’t help but wonder if… the person you always seem to prefer has something I… don’t.” He couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. Embarrassed. But it was either say it or let it rot the short-lived connection that brought him comfort. Thankfully, you didn’t let him stew for long. “Baboya~” you said fondly, and Jinu could hear your smile. “These people are just part of the project I was assigned to.” Jinu blinked. Speechless. “…Project?” he echoed. Barely registering this "person" were "people". You laughed gently. “Yes! Hahaha! I really do apologise. Looks like I forgot to tell you… It’s just hard to focus on all my responsibilities when I’m with you, Jinu. I promise! This time, I won’t bail on you, ’kay?” He felt his face soften into a grin. Something in his chest buzzed - there may be no heart in his core, but he could still feel the growing warmth. He bent forward, clutching his shirt with his free hand, grinning like an idiot. “You better… You don’t want me to steal you right in front of them, do you?” You laughed, probably thinking he was joking. But Jinu wasn’t. Not even a little. Your words reassured him that he was enough - but after everything he’d experienced, he wasn’t going to let anyone take your time meant for him. He wasn’t that reasonable of a “man.”

<><><>

Abs Saja

💪 Abby had no issue with you hanging out with others. He trusted that you had eyes and knew he was a catch - and that you’d tell him if something wasn’t right, just like he bluntly did to you.

💪 Family hangouts? Easy. Abby had no problem showing up and showing off to your relatives even when he was not invited. Friends? Peers? All of that was just background noise - opportunities, really - for him to flex as your partner while the cute little rats around the two of you squealed his praises. It was a win-win.

💪 His eagerness and chill attitude about you being around others, however, was not a green light for you to pull a: “Me and the others are having a slumber party!” - followed by a kiss on the cheek and a swift sprint out of the apartment he shared with the guys.

💪 Abby respected your clever escape, because he knew if you didn’t plan it like a prison break, he would’ve already had you trapped in his arms, hoisted over his shoulder, and dragged off to his room for his required daily dose of nightly cuddles - unbothered by your flailing attempts to escape.

💪 Abby was a demon who couldn't hide his reactions. So when the door shut behind you, his brain was still buffering - trying to piece together what the hell just happened - before his lips pulled into a dramatic pout. He turned to his brothers lounging in the living room and pointed at the door with his thumb in a wordless: Can you believe that?!

💪 Jinu and Romance exchanged a glance while Mystery just shook his head - less in understanding and more in quiet pity. Baby released his lollipop with a loud pop as he looked him over with drooped eyes. “Pathetic.” Then he put his lollipop back and went right back to scribbling in a notebook, no doubt perfecting Jinu’s lyrics again.

It was safe to say Abby didn’t require rest. He didn’t have a heart like humans, meaning he didn’t need rest to produce whatever the blood was formed from for it to function. For demons, sleep was more of a pastime - something to do when there was nothing else going on. But for Abby? There was always something going on. He wasn’t the structured type - he always went with whatever caught his attention or he thought was a great idea to do. However, ever since you entered his life, Abby had developed one routine. You, in his bed, sleeping next to him every night. No exceptions. Until today. Because today, you decided a bunch of squealing meat sticks were more important than him and your shared cuddles. And for what, exactly? A slumber party? What the fuck even was that? Well, he knew now - thanks to Mystery, who had flipped through one of his human books and casually explained that slumber parties were events where humans “bonded” by staying up late, talking… and summoning demons. Which - hello? You already had a demon. Him. Or were you trying to tell him he was supposed to go to that party and fight off some pathetic, low-ranking worm of a demon to prove himself to you? That theory was quickly shut down by Juni, who waved his arms frantically and made a big “X” with his hands. “No, no,” Juni said, exasperated. “It’s not that kind of slumber party.” Yes, it was about bonding and talking, he explained - but mostly it was eating snacks, playing games, and then cuddling together before falling asleep. Abby did not like that. Were you saying he wasn’t good enough to cuddle? Not warm enough? Not sturdy enough? He could change forms if you needed him to! All you had to do was say the word - he could be anything for you. All he needed to do was tell you that he was a demon who could- Abby let out a frustrated growl into his pillow, which was currently trapped in a suffocating death grip. The others - excluding Romance, who had flashed him an enthusiastic thumbs-up - had shot him sharp, warning glares the moment he suggested it. Their not-so-subtle way of saying: fucking try it.

He huffed, burying his chin into the pillow that still smelled like both of you. His bored eyes drifted toward the glittering honmoon barrier, pulsing in slow, even waves on the bed. He hated how badly he wanted to devour you - to keep you with him at all times. The craving swelled in his chest as he hugged the pillow tighter. A glimmer of your energy flickered inside the honmoon. Abby’s eyes sharpened. Without realising it, he reached out - his clawed finger sinking into the mattress just inches from the glowing thread of your wavelength. That glimmering crimson pulsed over the faint blue. He grinned. Leaning forward, he easily cast your line into his shadow, the dying blue and vibrant red of your link illuminating his face. His sharper teeth gleamed. Abby growled in approval, "My small, precious human..." he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the line, pressing his cheek against it as your wavelength trembled. Seconds later, the device Juni called a “phone” began ringing on his nightstand. Lazily rising, Abby leaned over, using one hand to balance himself while the other reached for the phone. The moment he saw your name on the screen, his grin deepened. Satisfaction pulsed through him as he accepted the call. He purposely lowered his voice, making it gravelly - like he’d just woken up. “What’s up...” “Abby?” Your voice was soft, startled, like you were rudely awakened by something. He hummed deeply in response, shifting on the bed so his feet touched the floor. He could hear you moving around in the background too, still disoriented. “Ah—sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you…” “No, no,” he replied gently. “You called. Did something happen?” He added a slight rasp, pretending to wake himself up for you. You yawned, which made him chuckle as he stood and stretched his shoulders, muscles flexing. “No, nothing really. Just… do you think I—” He cut you off smoothly, already halfway to his closet. “Want me to come get you, sweet thing?” There was a pause on your end as he pulled on a random shirt. As soon as he put the phone back to his ear, your answer poured out, soft and almost drowsy. “…Please.” That one word was all he needed. Abby's grin stretched wider. Your voice sounded fuzzy, affected by the pull of the honmoon - probably a side effect of him tampering with it earlier. Nothing dangerous. Just made it a little easier for him. Especially if your wavelength was already weakened by their influence on you.

<><><>

Mystery Saja

🐶 Mystery was the only one among the others who was genuinely curious about the human world - in the way a scientist might be fascinated by their test subjects. A curiosity that wasn’t driven by affection or sentimentality, but by the cold, sharp edge of analysis.

🐶 That same curiosity had granted him rare insight into human behaviour. And comparing it to the era he hailed from? Mystery often wondered if he’d been born on an entirely different planet.

🐶 One of the more puzzling subjects he studied was the human desire to bond. Or more accurately - the innate need to form multiple, meaningful connections with others.

🐶 Okay… but so what? You already had Romance, with whom you could talk endlessly about new trends. Abby, who behaved like an oversized golden retriever, constantly dragging you around the city and showing you places even you - a human who lived around here - didn’t know existed. You had Juni, who could pass as the most "normal" out of all of them and offered you the kind of grounded interaction humans seemed to crave. And Baby, who teased you endlessly until you smacked him with a pillow and he cackled like it was his reward.

🐶 You even had a good rapport with Tiger and Magpie, who you adored taking on nightly walks on which Mystery tended to tag along.

🐶 And he had given you everything a human partner could possibly want. Warm meals, stimulating conversation, the kind of scorching pleasure that left you trembling - your pleas for more eventually turning into breathless gasps begging him to slow down before you could faint.

🐶 So please. Enlighten him again how meeting these random strays was more important than spending time with him, while he read, and you used him like your personal massage therapist for your feet.

“There are not strays, 'Tery,” you sighed, arms crossed, standing your ground before him. He stood perfectly still, blocking the front door of the apartment he shared with the others. “They’re my cousins.” Mystery blinked once - not that you could see it with his fringe in the way - so he tilted his head slightly instead, the silver earrings on his left ear swaying. “What’s the difference?” You let out a short snort, stepping forward to playfully shove his chest. But Mystery remained unmoved. He couldn’t comprehend how being blood-related made a difference. Related or not, they were still doing the same thing. Taking you away from him. Having to realise that was not a joke, you straightened your posture, running a hand through your hair and said, “Mystery—” Oh no. You said his full name. It wasn't even the real one. It was the name Juni had given him. And yet, somewhere along the way, it had rooted itself into his core so deeply that hearing it from your lips had a startling effect.

Your closeness was even worse. The way you stood there, just a breath away. The possibility of closing that distance— It made shivers spread under his skin. The corners of his mouth twitched, ears straining to catch each syllable that left your lips. “I’ll be back by 5:20,” you said, voice calm, trying to sound reasonable. “Maybe earlier. I don’t know how long they’ll keep me.” You really were sounding logical. But not to him. Mystery didn’t move. A thick silence settled between you as you stared him down, and he stared back through the veil of hair over his eyes. He relished the way your gaze roamed over him, your brows furrowed with concern. Without saying a word, Mystery reached up and gently smoothed the crease between them with his thumb. Your shoulders dropped. You exhaled. “Fiiine,” you groaned, giving him a look. “You can come with.” Good human, he thought, stepping aside and offering his arm. You looped yours through it without protest, and together you left for the café where your strays - your cousins - were waiting. At the café, Mystery immediately picked up on the subtle awkwardness between the strangers and himself. The two you’d introduced as your cousins kept glancing between him and the curious patrons nearby, who were clearly trying to place his face. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t about you wanting to get away from him. Maybe you were trying to avoid drawing attention? Not that he cared. He adjusted the cap you'd jammed onto his head before leaving the apartment and relaxed into the chair. Now he could casually tell the others that he’d simply taken the opportunity to do “fan outreach.” Humans adored that kind of thing, didn’t they? Idols doing normal things. Going out for disgusting oil-water - what was it called again? Coffee. Romance had explained it to him once with a flair. Something about chic trend and university aesthetic... Whatever.

Mystery barely stifled a sigh when your male cousin awkwardly introduced himself, followed by your female cousin. After that, the conversation mostly flowed between you and them. Meanwhile, Mystery was simply trying not to spit out the moldy tar water in front of him and onto your cousin’s face. You said it wouldn’t take long - and thankfully, it didn’t. The two cousins had places to be. Finally outside in the fresh air, Mystery nodded at the male who returned it, a polite bow exchange with the female - and then they hugged you one by one, flashing bright smiles as they said goodbye and left behind their stench on your clothes. Mystery watched with idle disinterest… until you turned toward him with a bright smile and started walking. Without missing a beat, he fell into step beside you, his movements effortless. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he slid his arm around your waist, drawing you closer with practiced ease. “'Tery,” you hissed, startled, your head twisting as if to check whether your cousins were still nearby. “What if they—?” Before you could finish, his hand slid up from your waist to your back and finally settled on the back of your neck. He gently tilted your head forward, voice soft and steady, “No worries. They’re already gone.” You checked him for reassurance, and upon seeing his relaxed smile, you finally eased up, trusting him entirely. As you leaned into his side, Mystery kept his hand on the back of your neck - his fingers slowly kneading the base. Casually, he lifted his other hand to fix his hair, as he hooked few fingers under the strands of his fringe, letting them part as he subtly turned his head to the side, revealing one of his eyes. Sky blue, rimmed with glowing gold - until, in a blink, the gold swallowed the colour whole. His pupil narrowed into a sharp horizontal slit as his gaze locked onto your cousins. They were now frozen in place, lingering by the café entrance. He let them see it. The flash of inhuman sharpness in his smile. The knowing glint. He let it linger just long enough for their wavelengths in the honmoon to spike in alarm before he blinked, his eyes returning to their human form as he turned, letting his fringe fall back into place, Without another glance back, he walked leisurely beside you, pleased with the phantom of their fear still dancing at the edge of his senses like static. Mystery drank it all. And oh, how sweet it was.

<><><>

Romance Saja

🌹 Romance would proudly say it aloud: he didn’t understand the word jealousy.

🌹 He’d only first heard of it when he’d tagged along to the human world with the others. Baby had been grumbling about how absurdly jealous their fans could get, muttering it with a dramatic eye-roll. When Romance asked what the word meant, the younger demon had stared at him flatly, gave a shrug, and went back to chewing his gum. He waved him off lazily with, “Ask Fringy, I heard it from those shitty movies he watches. ” That word had piqued Romance’s interest. So, naturally, he went to Mystery as Baby had advised him.

🌹 Mystery didn’t bother answering directly. He simply set aside the book he’d been obsessing over, rising from the couch in one slow, fluid motion. Without a word, he drifted over to his beloved bookshelf - the one Romance secretly admired for its intricate, hand-carved detailing - and retrieved a hefty, leather-bound volume. Returning to him, Mystery opened it on some page, tapped a single word with one painted finger, and said coolly, “Read.”

🌹 Romance blinked at him, raised a brow at the demon's tone, then shrugged and did as told. A moment passed - and then he wheezed out a sudden burst of laughter, clutching his stomach as he tried not to choke on how own spit. Mystery, unfazed, simply straightened. With his usual calmness, he closed the book, returned it to its shelf, and without a single glance back, strolled wordlessly to his room, shutting the door with a soft but final click - leaving Romance in the midst of his hysterical laughter.

🌹 What a ridiculous term! Only self-pitying, bone-dry beings with not an ounce of self-respect could feel "angwy" over something they didn’t have and wished to possess. For what? To feel better?

🌹 Oh, honey~ If you feel miserable without it, you’ll still feel miserable even with it. To Romance, jealousy became just another made-up human excuse - an elegant little lie to mask their fear of revealing their true beauty. Easier to envy others than to honour one’s own shine he guessed.

🌹 He shook his head, the corners of his lips lifting into a pitying smile. Truly pitiful. And that’s exactly what made humans so very entertaining.

It was late into the night, and with nothing better to do - everything already set and ready - Abs had declared a Monopoly match. Now, they were all gathered around the coffee table in the living room. Juni was subtly stealing from the "bank," deep in debt to Abby, who was somehow winning - though even the big guy himself didn’t seem to realise it. Mystery’s section was the most organised; he had to keep pushing up his fringe, revealing glimpses of his sculpted face and paralysing eyes - eyes Romance often claimed were more brilliant than diamonds - as he squinted at the fine print on the cards, just in case. He didn’t seem to notice Baby quietly stealing from him… again. The youngest demon among them always somehow landing in jail. Romance hoped it wasn't some future sign. He, on the other hand, was also losing, apparently. But he didn’t care. He was far more invested in choosing the more aesthetically pleasing structures on the board that he could buy. They were waiting for Mystery to roll the dice when Romance’s ears twitched at the soft sound of his door opening. He looked up just as you stepped out, dressed in an eye-catching outfit - comfortably casual, yet still striking enough to turn heads and leave people wondering if you were even real. Pride swelled in Romance’s chest. The entire ensemble was one he’d picked out for you. With an approving nod, he turned back to the board. Mystery seemed to be deciding whether to use the card in his hand now or later, causing everyone except Romance to glare at him impatiently. Naturally, the demon was unbothered. Romance heard your footsteps approach and, knowing exactly why, he straightened. Tipping his head back, he smiled just as your gentle fingers lifted his chin and your lips brushed the corner of his mouth. Neither of you paid any mind to the eyes now locked on you - nor to Juni’s dramatic gagging, which earned him a shove from Abby - or the loud pop of gum before Baby scoffed, “Disgusting,” and turned back to the board. Romance wasn’t even sure Mystery could see - his fringe was so rich it was practically a curtain. Not that Romance cared; all his attention was on the angel standing above him.

You smiled softly down at him. “I’ll be out with some of my friends and their acquaintances. Should be back around eleven.” Romance hummed, flashing a dazzling smile. “Enjoy the night, darling. Don’t be cheap on yourself,” he said with a lilting, playful tone, then turned back to the game, perfectly content - though he noted your gaze lingered. When it didn’t shift, and neither did you, he eventually looked up. The other guys had stared at him too - besides Mystery who finally rolled the dice. Romance tilted his head at you, curious. “Yes, love? Something the matter? Do you want to borrow one of my pieces of jewellery, is that it?” he asked earnestly, clearly confused by your startled expression. There was a pause - just the two of you in your own pocket of silence - before you shook your head quickly and gave a hesitant smile. “N-No! No need. Thank you for the offer though,” you said, bowing gratefully before flashing him a radiant grin. “Enjoy your night!” Romance returned it with one of his own, lifting his hand to wave as he watched you leave. “You shall too, my lovely darling!”

<><><>

Baby Saja

🍼 Baby never understood the whole concept of jealousy. He always squinted suspiciously whenever he saw one of those people inside the magic box Juni told them humans called the “TV.” A box Mystery had grown as attached to as he was to his stupid books.

🍼 With nothing else to do today, Baby had two equally terrible options: Be dragged to some human food chain by Romance and Abby like Juni had - relegated to “human translator” duty for demons - or sit in his room while Mystery sat through one of him movie marathons on that box, volume turned low... which, for Baby’s hearing, may as well have been blaring at full blast.

🍼 He had zero intention of venturing out alone. No need to provoke the huntresses any more than they already had. They knew what he and the others were, and Baby didn’t feel like fighting - not with his brain still aching from today’s string of stupid shows designed to entertain the masses like they were circus animals. Baby swore Gwi-Ma was punishing him twice for his human sins.

🍼 So, he ended up sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, arms loosely draped over his knees, while Mystery’s attention remained glued to the humans on-screen. The female protagonist had just spotted the male lead talking - laughing, even - with another woman after getting a message from the male that morning that he would be busy. The girl’s face twisted. She marched into the café, called him a player, and dumped his own drink over his head.

🍼 Baby narrowed his eyes, unimpressed, and bit into the lollipop in his mouth. “What the shit...” he muttered, gesturing vaguely at the screen. “Why not just talk to the guy instead of pulling a tantrum like a brat?”

🍼 He leaned back with a grimace. Even as a demon, he was rooting for the male lead to ditch her. “Man... just give up and take the other chick,” he muttered, rotating the lollipop stick slowly between his fingers. “Humans are fascinating...” Mystery said, voice flat and unreadable. Baby snorted, smirking. “Sure they are. Can’t even think rationally.”

🍼 The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up - his instincts prickling. He could feel Mystery’s gaze drilling into him. Unable to ignore it, Baby snapped his head around and glared up at his senior. “What?”. Mystery tilted his head slightly. “We were once humans, too.” Baby scoffed, turning back to the screen. “Yeah, and? Look where our rationality got us,” he muttered, biting down sarcastically on the word.

🍼 With nothing else to add, the two demons lapsed into companionable silence, watching as the male protagonist ran after the girl with the temper tantrum. Baby’s canines lengthened unconsciously, piercing through the candy in his mouth. Pathetic, he thought.

Baby didn’t even know how the fuck he got here. It started with Abby hyping up some “amazing BBQ chain” on the outskirts of the city - and ended with all five of them sitting in one of the private cars, courtesy of the industry that scouted them after that godawful “Soda Pop” song. Baby still shuddered at the memory. That song was a fucking curse. If any lesser demon so much as whispered it near him- He huffed and slouched deeper into his seat, pulling out the "phone". Your chat log stared back at him: a single cat sticker, a cheery “Good morning!” and a short I’ll be busy today. That same moment, Baby had immediately messaged back asking, Busy with what?, reacting to the sticker with a sun emoji. You hadn’t read it yet. “Tch.” Whatever. Baby brushed it off like he brushed off the growing void in his chest - and the saliva pooling in his mouth. The urge to devour your soul was stronger than usual. He figured even his demon body was getting impatient to blend with you already. Soon, he thought, lips quirking into a smile. That was enough to earn a suspicious glance from Abby, who immediately commented that he looked “creepy.” So Baby chucked his phone at his face. It nearly escalated into a full-blown brawl, if not for Mystery and Juni unleashing just enough demonic aura to force the two of them to sit back down. Baby hated that he couldn’t fight back properly without risking his head getting sliced off. His body would regenerate - eventually -but sitting around bodyless for hours was a major buzzkill. Now, they were trailing behind Mystery, who’d been told to “smell out” the BBQ spot since none of them knew how to use phones beyond the bare minimum. And even that had taken months of trial and error. Romance was banned from dialling the emergency number after he’d used it for every minor inconvenience, so they wouldn't get locked up even before the mission could start. So as they followed the demon bloodhound through the streets, Baby came to a sudden stop. His droopy eyes, widened. He felt it - a faint tremble in the air. Your wavelength. His skin buzzed. Instinctively, his hand reached out to grasp it, only to recoil with a snarl as the huntresses' protection burned his palm.

Fucking nuisance. The fact that you were still untouched by demonic influence - still holding strong even after getting closer to him - set Baby’s teeth on edge. It made him boil. He wanted nothing more than to go head-to-head with those three bitches and rip apart whatever invisible leash was tied around you. All so he could feel your line clinging to him without restraint. While the others continued walking, Baby peeled away from the group, scanning his surroundings. The honeymoon wave meant you were either nearby or you lived on this specific street. And no - he was pretty sure you didn’t live out here. He followed the trace across the road, dodging pedestrians, until he came to a halt. There you were. Sitting inside a café. Laughing. With some rando. You were perched on a bar stool beside them, hands cradling a cup as you spoke, giggled, playfully nudged the other - and received a shove back followed by more laughter. Baby’s lip curled, a low growl escaping him. His eyes narrowed. Is this what that female protagonist felt? Fuck no. He didn’t have pathetic self-pitying thoughts. He was untouchable. He didn’t need validation. He knew he was great. No, what Baby felt wasn’t that flimsy human brand of jealousy. This was something far more primal. An urge. To walk straight through the café doors, wedge himself between you and that leech, threaten them without saying a word, and drag you out of there. Just because your time - your presence - belonged to him. Relaxing into the sensation, Baby smirked to himself. Adjusting the bucket hat shielding some of his features from rabid fans, he casually strolled toward the café. The cashier greeted him. He ignored it. Each step he took was precise. Measured. Confident in a predatory grace wrapped in an attractive human shell. His boots clacked sharply against the wood flooring, but you didn’t hear him. The ambient café noise covered his approach, and your back was turned - attention fully on the leech across from you. The leech, however, did see him. And instead of meeting ordinary human eyes like they had to expect, they met glowing gold, shadowed under the brim of his hat. Pupils slitted in sharp attention. Baby tilted his head, lips peeling into a smile far too wide, sharp canines flashing. The leech flinched hard, nearly falling off the stool. That finally got your attention. You whipped around with an adorable little glare, ready to scold whoever scared your friend- Only to find yourself face to face with Baby. Silver-blue eyes blinked innocently. Calm expression. Head tilted owlishly as if he were the one surprised to see you.

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linxnnalyn · 1 day ago

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Dating Rumi HCs

࣪𖤐.ᐟ note -> GOD I LOVEEEE RUMI !!! She is one of my f/o’s now hehehehe

࣪𖤐.ᐟ warnings -> none.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ content includes -> fluff, secret relationship (from the public), you’re her biggest fan, civilian! reader, shows, rehearsals, cuddling, kissing, kissing her marks, pre and post movie.

۫ ꣑ৎ Being in a relationship with THE Rumi from HUNTR/X can be quite difficult. The two of you have to make sure to keep your relationship a secret from the public because of the fans and as to keep you safe knowing that there are certain types of fans that wouldn’t like the fact that Rumi is in a relationship. The only people that do know about yours and Rumi's relationship are Bobby, Mira and Zoey. Not even Celine knows about you.

۫ ꣑ৎ She does not want you to know about her, Mira and Zoey being hunters. It is also another reason as to why your relationship is hidden, as for the demons not to find out about how important you are to her and even her friends. Rumi feels horrible whenever she accidentally misses your dates and uses the excuse that she was busy with idol work when in reality she was killing demons.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi adores how close you are to Mira and Zoey. They are her family, her best friends, so seeing you being so close to Mira and Zoey makes her happy. Though admittedly sometimes she gets a bit jealous, she knows that Mira and Zoey would never try to make a move on you and she trusts you completely, but Rumi just can’t help but sometimes be jealous.

۫ ꣑ৎ She loves it when you come by for HUNTR/X’s rehearsals. Rumi already tries very hard, but when you are there, watching as she and the girls practice? Rumi gives more than her all. Once the rehearsal is over Rumi is a bit hesitant to hug you because she is sweaty but will gladly kiss you if you want to, asking if you liked the new song and choreography.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi loves having those rare lazy days with you. She loves spending time with you in her room, cuddling up to you as the two of you watch a random movie. Rumi gets so whiney and pathetic when you try to pull away it honestly surprises you how this popular, confident idol turns into a wet kitty when you simply try to pull away from her cuddles

۫ ꣑ৎ She has so much money she doesn’t even know what to do with it anymore, so Rumi casually gives you a black card so you could buy whatever you want with her money. Hell she personally buys you a lot of things she just knows you will love for anniversaries, special days and even apologises when she has to cancel on your plans at the last minute. Rumi always puts a lot of thought in your gifts.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi was horrified when you too started stanning the Saja Boys. She knows that it isn’t your fault, after all they are literal demons that hypnotize their fans, but that doesn't mean that it didn’t hurt any less. Of course you were still her number one fan, but as the Saja Boys influence grew stronger it started to affect you even more.

۫ ꣑ৎ Once the Saja Boys and Gwi-Ma were defeated and the Honmoon had been repaired, Rumi knew she had a lot of explaining to do to you. Mira and Zoey offered to be there for Rumi and help her explain everything but Rumi refused, knowing she was the one who had to tell you the whole truth. She is just hoping you wouldn’t see her any differently.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi was very self conscious when you first saw her marks. She didn’t know how you would react to them, especially after learning the truth. She was surprised when you accepted her and her being a half-demon, something that genuinely made Rumi cry knowing that the person she loves the most accepts the part of her she has been taught to hide her whole life.

۫ ꣑ৎ The poor woman always gets flustered when you suddenly start kissing her demon marks when you two are cuddling. Rumi can’t help but be on the verge of tears whenever you compliment her marks and call them beautiful. She was taught that no one will understand her and accept her because of her marks, so knowing that you love and accept them means the world to Rumi.

#rumi #rumi x reader #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #wlw #sapphic #kpop dh #kpop dh x reader

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angelsafa · 1 day ago

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The only post you need to stop doubting.

Hi my loves,

Wdym you are not able to manifest that thing because some thoughts are popping into your head, and are making you doubt, and there's a voice that says that you are not able to do it???

Okay. Let's take a deep breath and relax.

You’ve been feeling like maybe your doubts are blocking your manifestations? Maybe you overthink a lot? Or you feel scared sometimes? Or you’re like "omg do I have to believe everything all the time or else it won't happen 😭😭"??

I got you my angel. I came here to save you hehe

First of all: NO. Your doubts aren’t ruining anything. The only way they “delay” something is if you start BELIEVING them. Like if you go “ugh I feel doubt... that means I won’t manifest” then obviously you're giving power to that version of reality. You’re choosing it. But that doesn’t mean the doubt is the problem — it’s your decision to let it be more important than what you want, yk?

The doubt itself? Harmless. Like a mosquito. Annoying but whatever. Just don’t feed it. That’s it.

You’re not supposed to feel perfect 24/7. You’re not a robot. You’re still pure consciousness, yes, but in a human experience. You get to have thoughts and still manifest instantly. You get to have doubt and still shift. You get to have fear and STILL BE THE MF CREATOR.

You think infinite consciousness is gonna get blocked by a lil anxious thought? Pfft. Be fr.

Now listen to me: You don’t need to believe in the void. You don’t need to believe in yourself. You don’t need to feel like you’re floating in a magical cloud. You just need to decide.

“I have this. It’s done.” That’s it. You decide, and the 3d shifts. Period.

And you already KNOW the 4d is the real reality, right? Sooo... you already shifted. The 3d just has to catch up. That’s literally all.

"B-but S-afa I-im scared the d-doubt is p-pushing i-it away..." My sweet angel. Let me say this lovingly: stfu. (not because I’m mean, but because I love you and you need to snap out of it). You’re too powerful to keep acting like a lost little sheep my sweet angel. YOU’RE A LION BABE. YOU ARE THE DESIGNER OF YOUR REALITY. WAKE UP.

The fear isn’t doing shit. You thinking “the fear is ruining it” is the only thing getting in the way.

Now. About the void, 4D, all that stuff...

Let’s simplify:

4D = your inner world. Your imagination. Your decisions. That’s what’s real. That’s what manifests.

3D = the mirror. The echo. The leftover energy (stop reacting to it. It’s not even real).

The void = your natural state. Pure being. No thoughts. No ego. Just the real YOU. When you’re not playing the “I’m this little human with trauma and fears” game.

Shifting = literally just choosing a different version of you and living from that. That’s it.

(Tbh I don't really belive in those terms because we are simply everything and anything all in one. But I use them so you my sweetcheeks understand it)

And no, you don’t need 100% belief. You don’t need perfect thoughts. You just need to say “I’m in the void because I said so.” And that’s it. DONE.

You think the void is a special club that only chosen ones can enter? My love, YOU ARE the void. You’re it already. You’ve just been pretending you’re not. Or maybe you forgot. Idk.

So... stop pretending, and remember who you truly are.

Be like: “lol okay yeah I feel scared and got doutbts rn but that doesn’t mean shit. I still get what I want. It’s already mine.”

You’re not affirming for fun. You’re not persisting for the aesthetic. And certainly you are not faking anything. You’re doing it because YOU ARE THE CREATOR and the 3D literally has to obey you.

You wanna manifest in the void? Go in. Say “I’m there.” That’s enough. There’s no waiting. There’s no test. It’s yours.

You wanna manifest in the 4D while still thinking random negative thoughts? Cool. Do it. Because YOU are the one deciding what’s real and what isn’t. And those couple of shitty thoughts won't do anything to the manifestation sweetie.

So now tell me, are you gonna keep crying over a thought that says "but what if it doesn’t work?" OR are you gonna laugh and say "anywayyy it’s already done so shut up?"

Your choice.

Now go be delulu, go script like crazy, go feel it, go DECIDE. Go live in the 4D like your life depends on it (bc spoiler: it kinda does). The 3D is just the old news. Boring. Let it catch up. (Or well, tbh it doesn't even need to because manifestation is instant lol).

You’re the void. You’re the imagination. You’re the power. You're everything.

So go and act like it!!

And I better see you out there ACTUALLY manifesting and not procrastinating!! Stop with reading the same information, that is just written with different words in blogs. You already know all you need.

Oh and I better read your success stories soon, you hear me my sweet angels?? Because you literally got this. Like you are the designer of your reality do you realize that??!!

Anyways, remember who you are, and you got this my loves!

Lots lots lots of love,

Safa

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linnlarsnhansn · 2 days ago

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SKAM 10 year anniversary podcast -

English translation

NRK is celebration a decade of Skam (😭) with a nine episode podcast. You can listen here

I'm collaborating with @kosegruppie who will be posting my translations and make subtitled videos with them. Make sure to follow them here on insta for all the latest!

Below the cut you'll find the transcript of the first episode (I've skipped a few summaries, the radio hosts watching the show etc, but all cast and crew interviews are there!). Enjoy!

From 03:50

Torkil Risan: It’s hard to measure that kind of thing, but Skam has to be Norway’s biggest tv show success. It was a small productio with low budget, had unknown actors and no traditional marketing. But the show would go on to break streaming records, set the agenda for public debate and take part in changing the language both in Norway and abroad. It would change the lives of many young people and entertain hordes of adults, and not only in Norway, no. There were people using their free time to translate the Norwegian episodes to a steadily growing international audience. Episodes were downloaded both illegally and, well only illegally really. But whatever. People all over the world were watching Skam. Skam has, up until this point, nine international adaptations, with Sram in Croatia as the latest one - it came out in October 2024. And all of this, that is the Norwegian original version, is created, written and directed by one person - Julie Andem.

JA: It became very difficult after a while to film and keep the storylines secret, because we were recorded wherever we went. Especially the outdoor scenes. Like at Nissen there were suddenly hordes of fans from all over the world when we were supposed to film, so that made it a bit difficult.

TR: And you can’t picture what it would become like when unknown 16 and 17 year olds get cast in a new show at NRK.

JA: Before these actors got their roles, at the last round of auditions, I had a talk with each one of them where I said: “I don’t know how big this show will become, it can become nothing, but it might become big. And if it becomes big and you become famous, you give away part of your freedom - the freedom to be anonymous to people. Today, when you’re on the bus, having a bad day, no one bothers you. But after you’ve become famous, people will walk up to you and want to talk to you and you can’t get away from that. When I call you next week and give you the role, if I do, I’ll ask if you’ve thought that over, and what you think of it - because you have to think that over now.” And I said that to each one of them before they got their parts. And then I think it was Josefine who said, we talked later about what I had said, that she thought “that lady is delusional. She’s making a small P3 show”. My talk went in one ear and out the other.

JA: It’s hard to imagine things like this for people that haven’t experienced success like that, and what it demands of you afterwards. And the freedom you lose to be anonymous. It is a really difficult pressure and it can be challenging. We thought a lot about it throughout and one of the main reasons that we ended Skam when we did, was because of that pressure on the young actors.

TR: Is this an ongoing conversation with the cast?

JA: I always think - there’s no one outside of it who understands what we experienced with Skam. So the best ones to talk to, always, about these things are the cast and the production team, who understand it and have the same feelings.

TR: That Skam also changed the lives of those who created it, we’ve established. I am curious about how Julie Andem, who has no clue how big the show is going to become, created these characters?

JA: As I remember it, I did loads of research with the target group to understand what that group, girls in Norway aged 16, needed, what stories it needed. And I think my goal was to develop 10 characters who could fit into a universe about them. That’s where I started. And the plan was that all the characters would develop in a way that they could carry their own season. So all of them were developed as main characters. I created them before the seasons, before the storylines.

TR: In September it’ll be ten years since Skam was released. It was released more like an event than a traditional tv show. Short clips could be dropped at any point during the week and people in the show posted on social media. It was Mari Magnus who was responsible for these digital updates.

MM: All the characters, even if they don’t have open accounts on social media, have a bunch of email addresses. I have a box full of sim cards and burner phones. Everyone had a facebook account. They were private, but it was so that it would feel a little real if you searched “Isak Valtersen”.

TR: Someone else that became well known to the audience, was media professor Vilde Schanke Sundet. She saw the format as unique enough that she had to start doing research on Skam while it was still possible.

VSS: I binged the entire first season one night. I remember laying in the cosy corner at home, watching on the ipad. I went to bed at 2:30 am and thought “now I understand what they are talking about”. I was interested in analysing it the same way researchers have been interested in analysing multimedia storytelling - how the story is built, how you make the different components, what it is NRK wants with this show, what it is trying to tell. And you become so drawn into the story that the ability to analyse goes a bit up and down through the different seasons.

TR: What makes Skam different from other tv shows?

VSS: There’s both things that make it very different and things that are very similar. Because the dramatic curves are similar to other dramas we know of. It’s love triangles, good vs evil, the struggle to find yourself, all things similar to the high school/coming of age genre. And it’s well made, but that’s not what’s groundbreaking. The groundbreaking part is how the story is told. You're doing it real time, so if you’re following the blog it will appear very close. You never know when something is coming. It’s unpredictable, it drags people in. It’s based on the needs of the audience. They did loads of research when developing the show and it appears closer when the setting is a Norwegian high school than an American one. That makes it different and innovative. I think all the fans know they are fictional characters, but they feel much more real because we are not sitting down in front of the tv to watch, they are just there in your everyday life. It’s much more at the top of your mind than other things you watch and put behind you until the next episode is released.

TR: The way Skam was created made it special. But that was not the most important part for Morten Hegseth.

MH: The format has been given too much credit. It was a good format to post clips in that way, but the reason it was so good was that the content was amazing. It wasn’t the publishing strategy that made Skam an international phenomenon.

(Skip to 13:26)

TR: Before they created Skam, the show creator Julie Andem and a few others made in depth interviews with young people in the target group. And the challenges Eva has in season 1, was pretty common with the group.

JA: What is that life like? When you’re coming from secondary school, where you have a friend group and a familiar and safe environment and you’re thrown into a new universe. Everything is starting over and you have to find your place again. But she starts out as a girl who has become totally dependent on her boyfriend. She’s been thrown out of the friend group because of the choice she’s made to be together with her boyfriend, with Jonas, and that makes her dependent on him.

TR: A successful way to independence is to become friends with a confident, stylish and cool new girl, like Noora. That, despite being good in Spanish, isn’t as crazy about russ as the other girls Eva start’s to hang out with - Jente-Chris, Vilde and Sana, who has concrete plans to fix a spot on a russebuss. And there you have our girl gang. Do you, the listener, think they are cool? Are they supposed to be cool?

JA: Socially, in school, they are not a cool group. That’s what the first storyline is about. The Pepsi Max gang are the cool, pretty girls and the other girls are not so cool. But I think they are very cool.

TR: What about the boys, aren’t they cooler?

JA: Yeah, they do at least have cooler references and masks. I’s more important to them to be cool. So they might be “cooler”.

TR: To actress Lisa Teige, it was a bit like starting a new school - moving from Bergen and start working as an actor in Skam. How much of Eva is really in Lisa?

LT: In the beginning I felt very different from Eva, because she went through very different things, I thought at that time. But things like finding friends in high school, I do identify with. I didn’t have that boyfriend drama, at least so early on. But looking back at it now, I would say I see myself in a lot of the things Skam talks about. I’ve also been in girl drama, had partner problems and the vulnerability in finding new friends. But back then, I felt the need to be like “No! I’m not going through the same things as Eva right now”. But really I did eventually go through those things.

TR: And like Eva, Lisa did find some good friends on Nissens’s school yard.

LT: I remember I noticed they were a few years older than me. I thought they were incredibly cool. That was my first thought “shit, these are cool people with experience”. It felt very cool to be part of that group. And I have so many good memories from the set with all the girls together. Especially because there’s a lot of humor surrounding the Vilde and Chris characters. They improvised many funny parts and we were laughing so hard on set. The dynamics of the group was really good.

TR: But Bergen, where Lisa is from, and Oslo are two different cities and they have different accents.

LT: Some things were difficult for me, as someone from Bergen. Like when I was supposed to say vors (pre-game) for the first time, which I had never said before and I don’t think I had ever been to one. And they said vors in the Oslo dialect and it was so difficult for me. I had to call mum and dad back home to ask how I was supposed to say the word.

TR: Eva is also one of the characters who is making out the most in the show. And here both Lisa and actor Marlon Langeland, who plays Jonas, got thrown into the deep end from the start.

LT: We had a workshop before filming, where we got to know each other and we played some games, as warm up. But to start kissing that person is something totally different. I remember dreading that quite a lot, because we were making out the first day of filming.

LT: And that’s the kind of thing you dread a lot, but when you first get going it’s very mechanical in a way. You don’t think about what you’re really doing and it’s like “can you place your hand there”, “turn a bit that way” and “make the kiss a bit more intense, because it looks good on camera”.

(skip to 27:19)

TR: Mari Magnus mentioned The penetrators, the coolest russebuss at Nissen.

MM: Penetrators has a song, that’s on Spotify and I don’t know if it has been said before, it probably has, but *whispers* it’s Tarjei.

TR: That’s rapping?

MM: Yes.

TR: So they guy singing lines like “Penetrators cums on your face, the weather report says flooding, it’ll rain cum”, that Tarjei Sandvik Moe, who plays Isak. Tarjei went to Nissen himself during this time and managed to sneak in several references to actual things going on in the school. And to blur the lines between the fictional and reality was one of the show’s goals. To make the show as real as possible they had instagram accounts and could start chatting with each other on friday evenings.

MM: It was a Friday evening and Julie was probably at work and we posted a photo on Jonas’ account, a Big Smalls reference, that he tagged Isak in. And we are logged into one account each, one on Isak’s, one on Jonas’. And we decided to have some fun in the comment section, hoping that maybe three people would see it, but that these three would have such a weird experience that they in school on Monday would say “You won’t believe what I say on instagram on Friday”. So Isak and Jonas drag Eva into it, but Eva is on a russebuss. And the audience is so cool, there are fans playing along and commenting things like “I saw you in the cafeteria today” “what did you get on your maths test?”. This is week two maybe, and those things we could do a bit more strategically at the start to get the engagement going.

TR: It’s a bit slow in the beginning, but interest in Skam grows quite fast. So to chat as the characters on instagram becomes too difficult, there’s too many others taking part in the conversation. And some audience members were more engaged than others. One of them was Julian Dahl, who was very active in the comment section. Active enough to get mentioned in the show.

TR: You’re living alongside these characters and sometimes that creates problems. Because Eva wants Jonas and Isak to go with her to the revy-party but they can’t. Why not?

Isak: We can’t

Jonas: Why not?

Isak: The tickets to Kindred Fever.

Jonas: I had totally forgotten that.

TR: You’re excused if the name Kindred Fever doesn’t ring any bells. They had a mini hype right around the time when this was released and they happened to have a concert the same day as the revy-party.

JA: The only reason we picked that concert was because it was Oslo that day. We just thought what band could they possibly be interested in that’s playing in Oslo that day?

TR: To make the right references is hard when you’re making a show. How do you know what 16 year old boys are saying, doing and would post? Sometimes Mari Magnus asked the actors to do it themselves.

MM: In season one we sent Isak, Eva and Jonas out on the town with some phones and told them to make some content as if they were a friend group eating burgers in town. And they came home with loads of nice stuff we could post.

(Skip to 33:40)

TR: I’m at your disposal - you can ask questions about the show and leave your thoughts and tips. There’s many easter eggs and symbolism in Skam that might be fun to dig deeper into if we come across it. There’s a messaging function on NRK radio. You could for example ask, like I asked Julie Andem, why is the show called Skam?

JA: We had loads of suggestions and we hung big sheets of paper at the auditions where they could write suggestions for the name of the show. And we got a lot of strange ones and Ingvild Marie Nyborg, who was on the team, came up with Skam and no one of us hated it, so that was the one.

TR: Do you remember any of the ones you hated?

JA: I remember “the 99:er gang”.

TR: I’ve found some questions the fans are wondering by sneaking around in some of the many Skam online fan forums: Like, who in the Skam universe is Lisa Teige?

LT: During the auditions I very much wanted to be Noora. Especially when I was 16 I thought Noora was super cool. But I do feel closest to Eva. I recognize myself in the insecurity and the fun parts and being someone with principles. It’s a boring answer, but it is Eva. That’s why I got to play her.

#im baaack #feels like ive been unemployed but finally have something to do lol #if you see any grammatical errors or wrong uses of the english langugage youre very welcome to lmk #praying i can keep the energy going for nine eps #no promises tho #skam #skam norway #julie andem #lisa teige

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catthestampede · 9 hours ago

Text

I was gonna post this ao3 free but I decided just posted here

Cottontail or Cottonhead

Danny first got into the business when he was eight.

His parents forgot him—again—at a paranormal convention. By the time they remembered, it had been two weeks.

Jazzy was away at camp, and they only noticed he was missing when she got back.

Those two weeks? Well, they were interesting, to say the least.

Somehow, he ended up being picked up by an assassin. And apparently, he and a group of them decided to see how good this kid really was.

Surprisingly, ghost hunting and assassin work are pretty similar. Ghost hunting and mercenary work? Basically the same thing.

And deep down, Danny’s always been a commit-to-the-bit kind of boy.

So he committed. He ended up gaining a reputation—one of the best child assassins out there. So good, in fact, that no one even knows his real name.

Or what his face really looks looks.

No one needs to know it’s because of stranger danger that no one knows his name—

or that he was going through a phase where he thought surgical masks were the coolest thing ever.

By the time he left, he knew things no eight-year-old should know.

⸻

The next year, history repeated itself.

And then again the year after that—but this time, Danny actually went out of his way to get jobs. Because, well…

The bills were piling up. Mom and Dad weren’t paying them—again.

Jazz tried her best, but at the end of the day, she was only two years older than him. Way too young to handle all of this.

On top of that, she was focused on getting good grades so she could earn a scholarship for college.

Danny tried to make money, but no one really wanted to hire a “freaky Fenton.”

So, when it came time for the convention?

He made up some excuse about summer camp.

Instead of two weeks, he got six. And by the end of it, he’d taken the lives of nine men.

Made more than enough money to cover him and Jazz for the rest of the year—until next summer.

He wouldn’t say he felt particularly good about it. But he didn’t really feel anything at all.

He Googled the men later, trying to find some reason to feel guilty. He didn’t.

He felt more guilt about not feeling guilt than anything else.

⸻

Time passed. By the time he was twelve, he was well known in the underworld.

He even got a nickname: The Killer Cottontail.

He’s not sure how to feel about that. But it’s too late to change it now.

He’s pretty sure it started as “Copperhead,” but was changed to “Cottontail” because of how young and cute he looked—which, rude.

(In reality, he got the nickname because the white part of his shirt always poked out of the back of his jacket like a rabbit tail.)

All in all, though? Not the worst way his life could’ve gone.

⸻

He met Bruce Wayne when he was eleven.

Danny had been hired to kill a man named Mr. Pennyworth.

Bruce thought Danny was there to kill him—which was kind of self-important, but also a reasonable assumption, he guessed.

The man panicked and offered to pay him ten times his original rate. Danny would’ve been a fool to say no.

He gave Bruce a business card and left.

⸻

Apparently, that day started a very weird relationship.

That card had a connection to Danny’s business phone, and Mr. Bruce apparently took it as an invitation to text him.

For “jobs.”

Which apparently included fetch quests… and sending pictures of his dog.

In all fairness, Ace might actually be the best dog in existence.

Danny will never not respond to pictures of that dog.

Bruce also hired him for smaller tasks like:

• Get information on Penguin’s goons

• Capture this criminal and turn him in

• What do you know about this underworld figure?

Danny enjoys the relationship, though he constantly has to remind himself to stay professional.

Also, Mr. Bruce is way smarter than he looks—or acts.

Several mercenaries have warned him about that. When Danny brought Bruce up once, Mr. Deathstroke got a weird look on his face—like he knew something but wasn’t saying it.

So Danny’s always careful about what he says around Mr. Bruce.

⸻

That odd little relationship lasted about six months.

A few days after Danny’s twelfth birthday, Bruce called him in for another job.

It was weirdly simple.

Bruce wanted him to babysit his newest kid.

Danny has no idea if Bruce realizes how insane that is.

Or that said “kid” is a trained assassin. And kind of a little punk.

Maybe Danny should introduce Bruce to How I Met Your Mother and the whole “crazy-hotness” scale, because wow—Talia al Ghul is definitely on the crazy end.

Normally, Danny wouldn’t leave Jazz alone for more than a couple of days.

But she’s staying the rest of the winter with a friend out of state.

Her school turned digital for the next 3–4 months while the building gets repaired. (Mom and Dad really need to stop jumping straight to missile-grade ghost weapons. Start with something small, maybe?)

So, for the next few months, Danny’s going to be babysitting Damian Wayne during his first days of school.

Joy. 😩

Still—it’s good money. Enough to help Jazz’s college fund. Maybe even enough to start his own.

In two days, he starts his new job for the next three months

@bluebird8683

"I'll pay you 10 times the amount you were given to take me out." Bruce Wayne is, very out of character, super serious and looking at him so intense.

Danny isn't paid enough to figure out why the supposed himbo isn't acting like it.

"You know what? Yeah. Deal." He fishes his phone out, accepting the money transfer and calls his boss for the day.

"Heyyy big guy– yeah‐ I know... anyway! I'm not killing Bruce Wayne, you should find someone different to do it— bye!" And he hangs up, cutting the shouting with a grin.

"If you ever, and I mean, ever need someone out of the way, call me."

He happily hands his contact information to the billionaire and swoops out of the window.

He is rich! So mega rich!

("Did you just buy the mercenary?"

"He's a kid! I panicked!"

"At least you got a phone number??")

#DPXDC

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magicalmatcha · 1 day ago

Text

now playing ♪ i want you by mitski

"you're coming back, and it's the end of the world,

we're starting over and i love you darling"

cw: the usual, bad writing

Her proposal shocked him. Blue Salt was a pretentious restaurant for equally pretentious people. A place where everything was plated like art and the waiters judged you with their eyes alone.

And that’s what Yn wasn’t. Pretentious.

She never liked places like this. Thought they were a waste of money and time, said she didn’t trust food that came in “drizzles” instead of servings.

But there she was.

Sitting alone at a window table in her pale blue nurses scrubs, her badge flipped backwards, her hair in that style that pushed it out of her face that she often wore to clinicals. A cup of tea sat in front of her, untouched. She looked exhausted. Not fragile, but stretched thin. The kind of tired that lives in the bones, not the skin.

She didn’t look up when he approached. Just stared out the window like she hadn’t changed locations in the past ten minutes. Like maybe if she kept still enough, he wouldn’t come at all.

Megumi hesitated. Then pulled the chair out across from her.

“You look good,” he said carefully.

She didn’t flinch. Just blinked, slowly. “I don’t.”

“No, you do. You look, grown.”

That earned him a scoff. “Right. Like a real adult. A functioning member of society.”

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She finally met his eyes. And god, that was worse.

Because they were the same eyes that used to look at him like he hung the moon, only now they looked through him. Like he was a passing thought she wasn’t sure deserved remembering.

“I figured you’d ghost the whole thing,” she said, voice flat. “Didn’t seem like your style to show up for hard conversations.”

“Yn.” His voice was quiet. “You could’ve told me.”

“And you could’ve come back when you said you would.”

The waiter came over, annoyingly chipper, like he hadn’t walked into the middle of a potential emotional crime scene.

“Are we ready to order?”

Megumi didn’t look up. “Just a coffee. Black.” He needed the waiter gone more than he needed caffeine.

Yn, however, leaned back in her chair with the faintest flicker of a smile. Not a happy one, no, it was something far more dangerous.

“I’ll have the saffron scallops with the truffle foam,” she said sweetly, handing the menu back. “And the house rosé. The one that’s imported.”

The waiter beamed. “Excellent choice."

As he walked away, Megumi turned to her slowly, eyebrows raised. “You hate scallops."

“I hate a lot of things,” she replied, still looking out the window. “But I love a free meal.”

Megumi gave a dry laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That why you picked Blue Salt?”

“I picked Blue Salt,” she said, finally meeting his gaze, “because I wanted to feel expensive. Because I knew you’d pay. And because this was never going to be a comfortable conversation, so I figured I might as well be uncomfortable with high thread count napkins.”

He looked at her like she was a stranger. And maybe she was. Five years was enough time for a person to become unrecognizable.

“Do you really hate me that much?” he asked quietly.

“No,” she said, just as quiet. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t know what version of you I’m talking to.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

“You want answers? Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy. You left me with nothing. I gave birth to a person. I had to hold her and name her and raise her, and you—” she laughed, but it was sharp, tired, nothing like humor “you were busy posting Spotify links on your story.”

Megumi’s jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”

“No. It’s not. But neither was any of it.”

She picked up her water, taking a slow sip, letting the weight of her words settle. Letting him sit in the silence.

“You know I was embarrassed at one point?” she said, almost idly.

Megumi’s head snapped up. “Embarrassed?”

“You hadn’t blown up yet. You weren’t even buzzing.” Her tone was calm, but each word landed like a slap. “What were you averaging back then? 1,000 streams per song? Maybe less? And it didn't seem like you were getting anymore popular. I sat in that apartment with a newborn on my chest, thinking, Damn. I got left for a career at that could have easily been left on SoundCloud .”

She laughed then, low and bitter. “I was the girl who got abandoned for a dream that couldn’t even buy studio time.”

Megumi swallowed hard. He didn’t try to interrupt.

She tilted her head. “And then 2023 rolled around and you had your good year. Unfortunately. So the shame didn’t get to last long.”

There was no venom in her voice, just exhaustion. Like she’d already lived this moment a thousand times in her head and now that it was here, it felt smaller than it should.

He didn’t know what to say. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t done.

“I struggled, you know?” Her voice was steadier than she expected it to be. “If anyone shouldn’t have been a mother, it was me. The teenage addict whose mom died choking on her own bitterness, and whose dad—” her voice faltered.

She let the silence carry that weight for a beat before continuing, softer now.

“How was that girl ever going to raise a kid? By herself no less. Was she even stable enough to take care of herself? Everyone thought I’d fall apart. Hell, I thought I would too. But then I looked at her, and I figured… if I could get sober, I could do anything. If I could claw my way out of that spiral, I could prove everyone wrong.”

Megumi stared at her, guilt blooming in his chest like something rotting.

“I’m not asking for a medal,” Yn said, her eyes fixed on the condensation sliding down her glass. “I’m not telling you this so you’ll cry into your coffee and call yourself the villain. I’m just saying, I built something from the mess you left behind. And it wasn’t easy.”

She finally looked at him.

“I didn’t need you then. And I sure as hell don’t need you now.”

Megumi swallowed hard. Her words hit with the weight of truth, not laced with venom, not performed for pity. Just honest. Just her.

But he wasn’t ready to let it end like that.

“I know you didn’t need me,” he said, his voice low. “You were always stronger than you gave yourself credit for. I just wish I hadn’t realized that so late.”

Yn gave a dry smile. “Yeah. You and everybody else.”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he added, almost to himself. “Even when things got good. Especially then.”

She scoffed, pushing her plate slightly away. “You know what’s funny? There was a time I needed to hear that. I would’ve given anything for you to say that to me. I would’ve collapsed into you.” She looked up again, and this time her eyes were clear. Detached. “But that version of me doesn’t exist anymore.”

Megumi gulped. “Does she— what does she think about her fath— about me?”

Yn shrugged, lifting her glass. “She thinks fathers are a false societal construct designed to keep women from filing taxes as single heads of household.”

Megumi’s eyes widened. “Why would she think that?”

“Because that’s what I told her.” Yn quirked an eyebrow, tone dry.

His jaw dropped slightly, and she could almost see him trying to process whether she was joking.

“She’s four, Fushiguro,” Yn added. “She also thinks her penguin plush has a credit score and that Maki invented pop tarts. Love her but she's gullible as hell."

He let out a disbelieving huff. “So she doesn’t… ask about me?”

“Not really,” Yn said, voice cooler now. “Kids don’t miss what they’ve never been given. I never sat her down and said, ‘Here’s what’s missing from your life.’ Why would I? She’s surrounded by people who love her. That’s enough.”

Yn traced the rim of her glass slowly, eyes fixed on the condensation sliding down its side. “Sometimes she comes back from nursery school and asks why her friends have dads and she doesn’t,” she said calmly. “But it’s not grief. It’s just curiosity.”

She looked up, voice steady. “She’s never felt the absence. Just noticed the difference.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “So you just told her I wasn't even real? That’s the story you told her?”

“What would you have preferred?” she snapped. “That I tell a four-year-old that her father left and never came back? That he made promises he didn’t keep? That he gave me a specific date and let it pass like it meant nothing? That he blocked me for no reason after promising he'd love me for as long as he lived?"

He dropped his eyes. She continued.

“You told me you’d come back. You said May 23rd like it was a vow. And I waited, Megumi. For weeks. Months. Even after you blocked me, convinced you would come back. I was eighteen and pregnant, going to classes and living off cup noodles and pity, and I still waited.” Her voice cracked, and she hated herself for letting it.

He looked up then, and there was something awful in his face. Remorse. Grief. Shame. The whole cocktail.

“I wanted to,” he said. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to. Gojo—”

“Gojo didn’t carry your child,” she cut in. “Gojo didn’t bleed for three days straight on the floor of a one-bedroom apartment. Gojo didn’t wake up at 3 a.m. because the baby wouldn’t stop screaming.”

Megumi said nothing.

She leaned back, folding her arms. “You got your big break. You got your fame. That’s great. I hope you think about me every time you win an award.”

“I do,” he said, and there was no bravado in it. Just quiet devastation. “I thought about you when I wrote every song. Especially the ones I didn’t let anyone hear.”

Yn blinked, not expecting that. Not knowing what to do with it.

She didn’t answer right away.

Just looked at him. Really looked at him.

There were flecks of the boy she once loved still there, hidden beneath sharper cheekbones, under the exhaustion pooling beneath his eyes. He looked weathered. The type of tired that went beyond missed sleep. And in some twisted way, that made her angrier. Because he had no right to look like he’d suffered.

“You thought about me?” she repeated, her voice quiet. “What do you want, Megumi? Redemption? Closure?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t forget you.”

“You did.” She tilted her head, expression unreadable. “You just remembered too late.”

Silence bloomed between them, heavier than anything they’d said.

“Yn,” he started again, voice rough, “I don’t want to rewrite the past. I know I can’t. But I’m here now. And if you’d let me, if there’s even the smallest chance, I want to be a part of her life. Of yours.”

He paused, something cracking in his tone. “I’m her father. I’ve already missed four years, I can’t miss another one.”

Yn’s face didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened.

“You’re about to go on tour,” she said flatly. “You say you want to be a present father, and maybe you even mean it, but let’s be honest. That’ll last what? Two weeks? Then you’re gone for months. Then you come back. Long enough to smile for a few photos, maybe learn her new favorite color, until it’s time to disappear again and start another album.”

"You can't be present like you want to Fushiguro because being present means giving up everything you worked on which means all those years? Were for nothing."

“You want to be her father?” she said, eyes sharp. “That’s noble. But being her father isn’t a title, Megumi. It’s consistency. It’s being there when she throws up at 2 a.m., when she can’t find her favorite socks, when she’s scared of the dark for no reason and only wants me. That’s what it means.”

“I can try,” he said, almost breathless. “Even if I’m not perfect—”

“You’ll fail,” she interrupted flatly. “You’ll miss a birthday or a ballet recital or she’ll have a nightmare and cry because you haven’t called in two weeks. And you’ll feel bad, and say sorry, and you’ll write a song about it. And I’ll be the one sitting on the floor with her, picking up the pieces.”

Her voice didn’t waver. It was too tired to.

“Because that’s what I’ve always done.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t sound like another promise he couldn’t keep.

“I don’t want to make it worse.” His voice was low. “I just… I want to try. Even if it’s messy. Even if I’m late. I want her to know I’m not a ghost.”

“You were,” Yn whispered. “For four years, you were nothing but a ghost.”

Megumi opened his mouth, but she raised a hand to stop him.

“You can’t be what you’re asking to be, Megumi. Not unless you give up everything you worked for. And if you do that, then what were the last four years for?” She leaned forward slightly. “All that sacrifice. All that distance. All that silence. For what? To become a mediocre dad with a Spotify plaque and a suitcase?”

Her words weren’t cruel. They were clinical. Precise. Like she’d rehearsed them in her head a thousand times.

“You can’t be two things at once. You can’t belong to the world and to her. So figure out who you’re showing up for.”

She stood from the table, readying herself to leave. "And if you chose it's her? She gets home from daycare at 6pm."

He showed up at 5:50.

Overeager? Possibly. But in his defense, he was given nothing to work with. He knew she was a four-year-old girl named Yume. That was about the extent of it.

What did four-year-olds even like nowadays? He had no clue. He’d dragged Nobara out of bed and into a toy store at 8 a.m. like his life depended on it.

Now he stood in front of the apartment door with a pale pink gift bag dangling from his wrist, stuffed with a glittery sticker book, a bunny-themed coloring set, a fuzzy blanket shaped like a cat, and, Nobara’s idea, a tiara that lit up and played a horrible tinkly version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star when you tapped the heart in the center.

In his other hand was a plastic tub the size of his ego, filled with pastel-colored candy floss that screamed cavities. He was almost certain Yn was going to banish it on sight.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Re-checked the time.

5:52 p.m.

He debated knocking. Debated waiting in the hallway like a weirdo until the clock hit six exactly. But before he could make a decision, the door creaked open on its own. Not wide, just a crack, like it had been left slightly ajar.

He took it as a sign.

Tentative, he stepped forward, knocking gently on the open wood. “Uh… hello?”

The smell of food hit him first, ginger, garlic, maybe salmon, and then the sound of soft humming. A familiar voice, not directed at him. A child’s laugh followed it.

“Mamaaa, I can’t find Tax Fraud’s crown!”

“You took it off her head, baby, now retrace your steps.”

He didn’t even realize he was smiling.

The laughter faded as Yn appeared from around the corner, still in her pale blue scrubs, hair pushed back the same way it had been at lunch. She blinked when she saw him, less surprised, more resigned.

“You’re early,” she said, tone flat.

“You said six.”

“And it’s not six.”

He held up the gift bag helplessly. “I brought offerings.”

Her eyes flicked to the bag. Then to the tub of candy floss.

She sighed. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting her eat that.”

“Knew it,” he muttered under his breath.

She stepped aside. “Shoes off."

He obeyed without question, slipping out of his sneakers.

The sound of a cartoon show flooded his ears and he followed it.

The living room was warm and dimly lit, with the soft glow of late afternoon sun pushing through the curtains. The cartoon played on low volume, a pink, sparkly mess of dancing cats, or maybe singing puppies, he couldn’t really tell.

Yume was on the floor, perched on a throw pillow like it was a throne, legs criss-crossed and socks mismatched. Her penguin plush, Tax Fraud, wore a beaded necklace and a bandage sticker on its head. A glittery crown lay abandoned next to a coloring book that had clearly already been half-filled in.

She didn’t notice him at first.

He hovered awkwardly by the entrance to the room, unsure if he should speak or wait to be invited. He was already intruding. He didn’t want to spook her.

“Yume,” Yn called calmly from behind him, “we have company.”

The little girl looked up then.

Her big eyes blinked at him, curious but unafraid. The TV blared some indecipherable high-pitched jingle in the background, but she muted it with a click of the remote, already displaying better manners than he had at her age.

“You’re the singer,” she said, standing up slowly, her grip on Tax Fraud unwavering.

He nodded. “I am.”

She tilted her head. “You came to our house.”

“I did.”

Her gaze drifted to the gift bag in his hand, then the candy floss. But she didn’t grab for it. Didn’t even step closer. Instead, she looked over her shoulder at Yn.

“What's he holding?”

“Ask him,” Yn said, from the kitchen. “It’s his gift.”

Megumi crouched down, holding the bag out carefully. “It’s for you. Thought maybe you and your penguin could use some new supplies.”

She took the bag gently, almost reverently, peeking inside. Her lips parted in a small gasp.

“I love cats,” she whispered, pulling out the blanket. “And sparkles. And pink.”

“I guessed,” he said.

She looked up at him again. “Thank you, Mister Megumi.”

He smiled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. “You’re welcome.”

She turned and trotted off toward the couch, already pulling the sticker book from the bag with practiced glee. Tax Fraud was tucked carefully beside her, his crown now replaced on his head.

Megumi stood slowly, watching her settle in.

“Hey,” Yn said quietly beside him. He turned.

She nodded at the candy floss. “Kitchen counter. If I see it near her toothbrush, I'll rip out your vocal cords. Let's see you try to go on tour then.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender and moved to drop it off. As he set it down, Yuuta emerged from the hallway, giving him a mock salute.

“You survived,” he said under his breath.

“Barely.”

From the couch, Yume called, “You can sit here, Mister Megumi! Tax Fraud says you can share his throw pillow!”

Megumi looked at Yn, who shrugged. “She named it, not me.”

He walked over and lowered himself onto the pillow beside her.

He had no idea what he was doing.

But she leaned against his side like it was nothing, like it was normal, and Tax Fraud gave him a very solemn nod of approval.

Yume had already spread the blanket over her lap, carefully flattening the corners like it was something precious. She peeled a glittery sticker from the new book and stuck it, without hesitation, right on Tax Fraud’s belly.

“Mister Megumi,” she said, peeking up at him with a grin. “Did you know penguins don’t have knees?”

He blinked. “I… didn’t, actually.”

She nodded solemnly. “That’s why he walks funny.”

Megumi bit back a laugh, but the smile came anyway, real this time. “Makes sense.”

From the kitchen, Yn called, “Yume, dinner in ten. You want to go wash up?”

“Okay!” Yume leapt up, the tiara lighting up obnoxiously with every bounce as she scampered toward the bathroom, her penguin tucked under one arm.

Megumi followed her with his eyes. Then, almost to himself, he whispered,

“She’s perfect.”

From across the room, Yn didn’t look back.

“I know.”

extra! extra! read all about it! (no seriously read it)

yume named her penguin tax fraud after maki almost got arrested for it

yn is hating every second of this

maki hid in her room because she really doesn't want to give that $855 back

not proofread and i actually really hate this chapter

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bucketbueckers · 3 days ago

Text

RECKLESS DRIVING

CHAPTER TWO

content: language, a cam roman crash out disguised as humor, mention of a panic attack (not an actual one, literally a mention), implied mental health issues, HORSE as foreplay, author won't pretend to know anything about the dallas geography

wc: 7.2k

notes: not gonna lie, this was lowk a rly tough chapter to write but im happy with how it turned out 🙂‍↔️ i love paige and cam so bad and i can't wait until we get to the heart of their relationship once the season actually starts. also i honestly wasn't gonna post this tn but somehow the wings won so why not. do not expect future updates to be this fast. shout out li yueru tho thats my goat fr. if i missed anyone on the taglist pls lmk !!! anyways i really appreciate the love on chapter one and i love hearing from y'all 🫶 as always i hope y'all enjoy this one ❤️

tags: @cowboybueckers @indigo491 @wnba-scotland @volleyballgirlsblog @sillystarv @middyprincess @intoblonde6ftwbbplayers @user1269 @fivest4rbuecks @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @lilpaigeyherbo

Before now, Cam isn’t so sure that she’s ever thought much about retirement.

She’s 26. She easily has another ten years left in her, but she’s always dreamed of having a long career that could rival Taurasi’s. She knows for sure that she’s not turning in her resignation papers without a league MVP, a championship ring, and an Olympic medal. Whether she retired as a Dallas Wing or whether she signed elsewhere was another story entirely. Maybe she’d spend her final season in the league as a Golden State Valkyrie, giving her last year to the city that had raised her.

Either way, the end wasn’t ever something that was a topic of thought for her. Cam liked to stay focused on the present – on her workouts, her training. The seasons always passed by so quickly that dedicating your energy to anywhere but the present was wasting the already limited time you had.

But now, as Cam stares at a very naked Paige Bueckers, whose face is wrought with a sudden shock and a damning realization, whose hair is mussed and whose neck is littered with enough marks that Cam has half a mind to call the cops and report herself for assault and battery, she sees her entire career flash by her eyes.

She recalls her draft night vividly. She still has the white, floral dress she wore to it hung up in her closet. She remembers her first rookie press conference and the reporter who backhandedly called her a “decent player, given the options the Wings had in the draft.” She remembers her debut, her lackluster thirteen points and five rebounds, how the media considered her a bust only five games into the season. Cam remembers how she fought to show up every day despite the fact that all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cease to exist.

Cam remembers how she made a name for herself in spite of it all. She remembers their winning season, and how it all came crashing down in 2024 when they only won nine games. She remembers the embarrassment of not being selected for the 2024 Olympics and how quiet the dinner table was after Coley only brought home a silver. Romans display their gold, her father had said, hardly sparing a glance at his youngest. Anything else is as good as a coaster.

They always say that, when you die, your fondest memories replay for you in one final surge of happiness. Cam is sure that’s what she’s feeling now because clearly her career is over.

She’ll have to request a trade. The Wings organization is already being held together by a thin piece of twine and the hope that Curt Miller, Chris Koclanes, and Paige Bueckers can be the one to pull them from the depths of hell and turn them into something that the rest of the league wouldn’t laugh at. Cam doesn’t know how anyone would be able to recover if word got out that she slept with Paige Bueckers – number one draft pick, Wings rookie (Cam’s rookie), future of the franchise, in case you’d forgotten – on the very same night that she lifted her jersey.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t the same night, considering they didn’t make it back to the hotel room until well after midnight, and Cam was sure that the clock on the wall read something like 2:49 by the time the last of their energy was depleted and Paige spooned her from behind like they’d been in a position a time or two.

Obviously, that’s not the point – not if Camille’s ensuing panic attack has anything to say about it.

The point is this entire situation is a major conflict of interest. Morally, technically, probably legally. Cam was supposed to be the responsible one, the veteran. Granted, she and Paige aren’t so far apart in age, but she’s going on her fifth year in the league. She knows better. And everything is so fragile right now. She might have just risked the health of the locker room in exchange for one night that, admittedly, was nice.

The most terrifying part of this entire situation was that Cam was supposed to take care of Paige. Not in a coddling manner – Paige could handle herself. She was grown. But adjusting to the league, to the pace, to the expectations…that wasn’t something you should do alone. She was supposed to help Paige find her footing, support her, advocate for her. She was supposed to do what any good veteran would do for their rook, but somewhere in between all of that anxiety bubbling in her gut, she feels that ever present feeling of failure creeping in.

She hadn’t even made it back to Dallas before she fucked it all up. And this feeling – this fear, the dread, the overwhelming sense that she just did something she can’t take back, it feels worse than anything she’s ever felt before. It’s worse than getting blown out in front of a home crowd that gets quieter and quieter with every turnover, every missed shot, every collapse on defense that leads to an uncontested three.

Welcome to the league, Paige Bueckers. Bet you wished it really was an Alyssa Thomas screen, huh?

“Okay,” Paige says after a while, her voice surprisingly calm given the gravity of the moment. “It’s not that bad.”

Cam throws her hands into the air, overwhelmed and exasperated. “Not that bad?” she exclaims, her heart hammering against her chest. “Paige, we just slept together.”

The blonde swallows, her eyes flickering down, and it seems like it takes a genuine effort to lift them back to Cam’s face. “Trust me,” she says, her voice cracking a little. “I ain’t forget.”

Cam glances down, taking in just how fucking naked she is, too, and with a growl that borders on equal parts panic and humiliation, she rips the comforter off the second bed in the room and wraps it around her body. It keeps Paige’s gaze off of her chest, but Cam isn’t sure what’s worse – having Paige see all of her or the fact that, despite the early morning, Paige’s eyes are impossibly blue, alert, and trained on her face. Somehow, it makes her feel more vulnerable than having stood in front of her naked.

“Are you…okay?” Paige asks tentatively.

That makes Cam’s shoulders sag, a huff of air escaping her lips. It’s hard to tell if it’s a scoff or something more like amusement, and she takes a seat at the foot of the bed as she digs through the pile of clothes on the floor for her underwear. “Yes,” she says, the word sounding stale. Paige makes a soft noise behind her that sounds like disbelief. Cam sighs. “No. I don’t know, Paige.”

“Are you hurt?”

That makes Cam pause, drawing her lip between her teeth in contemplation as she slides her bottoms over her legs. “Sore,” she admits after a while.

“Yeah?” Paige goads, and it fills Cam with the urge to turn around and smack her head. She rolls her lips so as to not smile and doesn’t give Paige the satisfaction of getting a reaction. “I’d apologize, but…you seemed pretty okay with it.”

“Paige,” Cam stresses. The reminder of last night makes her walls raise again. “Be serious.”

“Sorry,” she says for real, and it sounds genuinely apologetic. “Do you, uh, regret it? I didn’t like – force you, or anything?”

Cam sighs again, reaching for her bra, dropping the comforter to slide it over her torso. She feels Paige’s gaze leave her. The respect is touching. “I was drunk,” she admits, listening for the hitch in Paige’s breath. “We were drunk. Not helpless. Or out of control. You didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t…want. Or consent to.”

Paige exhales a relieved breath. She’s silent for a few moments, her eyes tracing Cam’s figure as she slides into her baggy cargos, then her crop top. “Then why are you freaking out? You’re okay. Mostly.” She adds the last part as an afterthought, and it makes the ghost of a smile spread across Cam’s lips. “You’re not hurt. You don’t regret it. Please tell me what’s wrong, Cam. I’ll fix it.”

Cam takes a deep breath, twisting around in bed and leaning against the headboard. Paige adjusts too, keeping the comforter pressed close to her chest, the chain around her neck glimmering. “We’re teammates,” Cam states. “Like, you know that was the whole point of the draft last night?”

Paige nods seriously, trying not to smirk at Cam’s sarcasm. “Trust me. I ain’t forget that either.” Cam rolls her eyes, the humor helping to make her relax. “Plus, we’re not technically anything until I sign that contract. And, you know…teammates sleeping together isn’t a new thing. Look at Dee and Penny. DB and AT.”

“Are you also aware that those individuals are married?” Cam emphasizes, exasperated again.

“You don’t have to be married to sleep with someone,” Paige retorts, and it makes Cam bury her head in her hands. Paige sighs. “Hey – I’m sorry, okay? I’m tryna be reassuring. Emotions were all over the place last night. You found out you really liked Shirley Temples. And…I guess we have really good chemistry.”

Cam can’t hide her smirk this time. “Hopefully that chemistry translates to the court, or we’re screwed for this season.”

“Cam,” Paige whines, pressing her face into the pillow. That draws a real laugh out of Cam now. Their eyes meet again, both gazes softening. “Look, I’m just saying that it’s okay. It happened. Can’t change it. I don’t regret it, you don’t regret it, and we can be mature adults about it. Yeah, we’re gonna be teammates. This won’t affect the locker room, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Cam exhales sharply, trying to find the right words. It’s not just the locker room. It’s everything. Cam has no idea who was at that afterparty, if anyone has any clips of her and Paige dancing on each other or leaving the party together. It’s the fact that she feels like she has so many eyes on her, even though there’s nobody but her and Paige in this room right now. Between the realization that this entire situation is a moral landmine and how guilty she feels because she let herself be free and indulge in one night, all Cam feels is overwhelmed. That emotion doesn’t mix well with the residual exhaustion. “It’s just–”

Her alarm rings again, causing both her and Paige to flinch, and she silences it quickly with a ragged sigh. She closes her eyes tightly in an attempt to regulate her breathing and her emotions.

“Hey,” Paige says softly, her hand extending to brush across Cam’s back. “You’re good. We’re good. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Cam nods, not quite trusting herself to speak, and she sucks in a breath. She doesn’t meet Paige’s gaze when she says, “I have to catch a flight back to Dallas. When are you flying in for the rookie press conference?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. I’on know.” She swallows thickly, nodding to the ground. “Can you…uh, grab my phone for me?”

“Yeah,” Cam says quickly, if not a little awkward, and she leans over to fumble with Paige’s clothes on the floor until she finds the blonde’s phone tucked into the pocket of her pants. She hands it over wordlessly and Paige breathes a sigh of relief when she finds that it still has some charge.

Paige scrolls through her phone for a few seconds before she clears her throat. “I’ll fly in on the morning of the 23rd.”

“That’s fine,” Cam agrees quietly. “We’ll talk after.”

Paige lifts her head ever so slightly as she watches Cam shuffle around the room, searching for wherever her shoes had ended up. She’s unlacing one just as Paige says, “What hotel are you staying at?”

“Hilton,” Cam answers. “Why?”

Paige hums, her attention back on her phone. “Getting you an Uber back.”

“Paige,” Cam sighs, standing up straight. When Paige glances back up, an amused smile is on her face – probably because Cam has only one shoe on, her clothes are rumpled, and her once neatly styled hair is out of place. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Least I could do,” she says, her tone a little softer. “I got you stressin’ for no reason on a Tuesday morning. What kind of rookie does that?”

Cam huffs out a laugh at that – a real one. She finds her other shoe and starts working on getting it on her foot. “A really annoying, yet really thoughtful one.” Paige pats her chest proudly as if to say that’s me. When Cam is finally dressed, she palms her pockets for her phone, keys, and wallet, exhaling in relief when she has them. “Hey.” Paige looks up, and Cam bounces on her heels, a sheepish expression on her face. “Sorry for freaking out on you. I just–”

“I know,” Paige interrupts gently. Cam’s shoulders sag, appreciating Paige’s understanding more than she probably knows. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know that? It takes two to tango. It’s not like I was an unwilling partner.” Her cheeks are flushed when she admits, “Maybe a little too eager, though. That’s the last time I chase a shot with a Shirley.” Cam can’t help her laughter, shaking her head in amusement. “If there’s a blame, then we’ll share it. Or I’ll take it for you. Rookie duties or whatever. Just don’t freak out, okay? We’re good. We will be. I swear.”

“...Thanks, Paige,” Cam whispers, and Paige’s reassuring smile makes everything feel like it’ll be okay again. “See you next week?”

The reassurance falls victim to mischief, because something sparkles in Paige’s eyes when she says, “Don’t miss me too much, Cam.”

Cam rolls her eyes, pursing her lips to stifle a smile, and she and Paige exchange one last goodbye before Cam steps out. The door clicks shut behind her with a resounding noise and it takes everything in Cam to not pause and press her forehead to it dramatically. Instead, she sighs, and reminds herself of the Uber waiting for her, the flight she has to catch, and makes her way out of Paige’s hotel.

Maybe she overreacted a little. Truth be told, she still feels a little unmoored, like she’s not quite sure of her role anymore. She, the veteran, was the one freaking out in Paige’s, a rookie’s, hotel room as she reassured her and told her they didn’t fuck anything up. Cam can’t help but feel like that should have been her job.

It’s hard to understand why she’s fumbling so badly now. She didn’t have this issue last year with Jacy Sheldon – granted, Cam didn’t sleep with her, but Cam was confidently the veteran to Sheldon’s rookie. There wasn’t a single misstep. She coached the young guard, helped develop her, and did everything a veteran was supposed to do.

But Paige is something else entirely. An enigma. A challenge. Something Cam was prepared to be unprepared for because she knew that Paige was always a caliber above the rest. In her game, her mentality, her ambition.

As Cam slides into the backseat of her Uber, smiling politely at the driver, she realizes that she has to run a tighter ship. She has to be poised, professional, the exact things she was supposed to be anyways before she let Paige Bueckers unravel her.

She’s here to play ball, and as far as she’s concerned, making her relationship with Paige more complicated than it already is will be the reason why everything crashes and burns.

Cam lands back in Dallas around 10am. She takes an Uber to her apartment, where Bobby, her characteristic orange cat, and Gatsby, a very particular tuxedo, greet her at the door. She’d managed to squeeze a few hours of rest in on the plane but she feels ready to collapse as soon as she’s back in. Before anything else, she scoops up both Bobby and Gatsby and plants a long, dramatic kiss to their foreheads and diligently portions out some wet food for them.

She makes her way into the bathroom to get ready for her presentation at UTA, then she’s back out of the house as quickly as she’d made it there in the first place. The presentation is a breeze, holding enough of her attention that she doesn’t get lost in thought about the blonde rookie who she’d left in bed at 5am, and the subsequent workout with her trainer after lunch drains her to the point that she doesn’t think about anything that’s not how sore she is the entire way back home.

Cam doesn’t even make it to bed. She curls up on the couch, curls damp from the shower she’d taken at the facility, hoodie sticking to her skin, and promptly falls asleep with Gatsby stretched out across her stomach.

That’s how the rest of her week goes. She tries – and more often than not, fails, to keep her mind on task. She throws herself into workouts, into running mindless drills, but part of her still can’t help feeling anxious. Paige had said they were fine, but Cam wonders how much of that was true, or if it was just the easiest thing Paige could think of to stop Cam from crashing out in her hotel room completely.

Or – and this is the million dollar answer right here – maybe Paige was genuine, and meant it, and Cam had no reason to be freaking out like she was childish and ten years younger.

The return to routine had helped a little. She had no reason to catastrophize, anyhow. Paige was right. They weren’t really teammates – yet – and the whole teammates having sex thing was pretty accurate, too. As long as they were able to keep it professional, cordial, and responsible on the court, Cam didn’t think the front office would particularly care, unless they were at risk of being a PR nightmare. Although…considering Paige’s celebrity, they probably are bordering on PR nightmare territory.

Either way, both of them were adults. It was consensual, Paige was incredibly chill about it, which meant Cam could probably be chill about it, which meant she didn’t ruin the locker room chemistry before it had the chance to grow.

At risk of fucking up their own chemistry, Cam knew that night wasn’t something they were going to repeat. Like, ever. If anyone asks, Cam has developed a sudden allergy for alcohol and is getting too old to be up past 9pm. If locking herself in her room like a tower-trapped damsel is what it takes to keep her relationships clean, orderly, and distraction free, then she’d gladly do it. She was committed to being responsible. She and Paige would just have to be friends. Very platonic friends who, sure, slept together one time when they were celebrating the biggest night of Paige’s life and they were both drunk on Dirty Shirleys, but that doesn’t have to define the course of their friendship.

Cam’s fine. Everything is fine. She got scared, overreacted, and maybe took it out on a poor rookie who’d only had two hours of sleep and a hangover. They could move past this and work together on the court without blurring the lines. Just friends. Just a rookie and a vet. Nothing more.

When the day of the rookie press conference arrives, Cam feels as though she has a better grasp on reality. She’s up early, goes on a morning run, showers, and is out of the door by 9am, only stopping for a chai latte before she makes her way to the facility. The first part of the morning was set aside to introduce the rookies and Cam was planning on taking advantage of the empty courts to run some drills and clear her mind.

The court smells like wood and fresh wax, a scent that makes Cam relax immediately. She’s probably spent more time between the hoops than she has anywhere else. She can see the three point line when she closes her eyes, imagine the height of the basket in her sleep. If the world had no room for her, then the one place she can confidently say she belongs is on the court.

She started playing basketball at a young age. Story of any player’s life, she’s sure, but it’s been one of the constants in her life for as long as she could remember. Despite that, it took her a long time to find genuine love in it. Basketball was an expectation. Greatness was, too. Lacing up her sneakers and working with private trainers had become routine, a way to earn pride and affection. Her mother always told her – and Coley, too – that she and her father were proud of them regardless of whatever sport they played or what they didn’t play.

People have different aspirations, Valerie told her when she was seven, in the throes of a tantrum because she’d been invited to a weekend sleepover that she would have to miss because her father had signed her up for a basketball clinic in Brooklyn. Different dreams. But you’re allowed to make space for what you love to do and what you live to do. You’re allowed to be a kid.

But Cam was sure that her father only smiled when she had a ball in her hand. She just wanted to make him proud – she looked up to him in so many different ways and wanted to boast gold medals just like he did. She wanted a career and a life to be proud of. So she’d sucked it up and went to the clinic, even if she spent every water break thinking about what her friends were up to.

It took a few years. She struggled to differentiate whether or not she played for the love of the game or for the need for approval. If she played because she saw the court not as polished wood and painted lines, but as the X’s and the O’s and as rotations and cuts, or if she played because she just wanted to be seen by the one person she always looked for.

On her own terms, she found herself falling in love with basketball in a way that was hers completely. She lived for teamwork, for the fact that playing good basketball meant knowing your teammates completely. The box score shows an assist, but doesn’t reflect how years of practice, study, and playing together prepares you to anticipate how your teammates move. She lived for the sisterhood of it all, the trust built between people who had the same goal and the same dedication to achieving it. She lived for the stillness on the court when she was at the line and the only thing between her and the hoop was fifteen feet of surety.

But Cam blinks back the memory, exhaling calmly as she laces up her sneakers on the bench. She ties them the same way every time – tight, double knotted, the ends tucked into the mouth. She doesn’t like practicing with music because it throws off her focus. There’s a rhythm to basketball that you only become privy to after years of breathing the game. The rubber echo of the ball against the court, the squeak of her sneakers, her own heartbeat – it grounds her, keeps her locked in.

When she’s satisfied with her shoes, she stretches out her legs, not doing anything too insane since she stretched before her morning run and was still feeling loose from it. It’s more to settle the residual noise in her brain.

After she picks up the ball, palming it between her hands, everything fades to a distant hum. It’s just Cam, the ball, the swish of the net. She runs a few drills just to get reacclimated with the feel of the ball in her hands, the way it bounces between her legs as she dribbles.

She moves onto shooting drills about ten minutes later, starting with a classic five spot drill. She doesn’t move on to the next spot until she makes ten in a row, but when she finds herself at the top of the key, three makes into her routine, the sound of the door pushing open causes her shot to clang off the rim.

She sighs, having found a rhythm, but steps off to pick up the rebound. Cam is only partially surprised to find Paige standing at half-court with a sheepish expression on her face and a pair of basketball shoes clutched between her fingers. The blonde has her hair up in a sleek ponytail, donning a black and white striped Nike sweatshirt (looking something like the Hamburglar, if Cam has to be honest), and a pair of matching black pants.

“Already trying to escape from the media?” Cam asks teasingly, holding the ball to her hip.

Paige shrugs, a little smile on her face. “I was tryna be good and mind my business, but I heard you dribbling. It was calling to me.”

Cam laughs. “Oh, I’m sure,” she says. “You sure you didn’t peek in, see it was me, and decide that annoying me was more worthwhile than getting to the press conference on time?”

“I still got thirty minutes,” Paige argues smugly. “I’m punctual and shit. Plenty of time to make you reconsider which rookie you actually wanted first dibs on.”

Cam hums, noting how comfortable she truly feels with Paige. She was expecting their first time seeing each other again to be a little more awkward considering how they left things, but their casual banter and teasing makes Cam feel like nothing had truly happened at all. Maybe she didn’t actually have too much to worry about. They would be fine, and she’s sure that the conversation they’ll have later would truly round it all out.

Then, she smiles, the curve of her lip indicating a challenge. She checks the ball over to Paige, who grabs it reflexively, her eyes wide in question. “How about some HORSE, then? Prove to me that you’re worthy of being the Camille Roman’s rookie.”

Paige scoffs, but she grins, setting her shoes down on the polished wood as she dribbles the ball. “What, was the natty not enough for you?” she teases. “Or going number one? Or buyin’ all your drinks?”

“I seem to remember those drinks of yours getting us into a lot of trouble,” Cam retorts, but the reminder doesn’t fill her with as much anxiety as it used to.

“You call it trouble. I call it vet and rookie bonding.”

Cam raises a brow. “Yeah? You gonna bond with Arike, too?”

Paige flushes, losing the handle on the ball as it bounces off her shoe, and Cam grabs it instinctively as she laughs. Paige, to her credit, recovers quickly, and she’s smirking when she says, “Nah. My vet says I’m off limits. I’m a one woman kind of girl.”

“Good answer,” Cam says. She checks the ball back with a loose, carefree smile. “First shot’s yours, rook. Make it count.”

Paige dribbles it once, twice, the smile never leaving her face as she inches closer to the three point line. She sets her feet shoulder width apart, crouching slightly, and she throws the ball underhanded towards the net. It sinks in gracefully, and Cam shakes her head in amusement at her over the top celebration as she tracks down the rebound.

“Don’t miss,” Paige says unhelpfully as she and Cam swap places. Cam rolls her eyes, not bothering with a response, and she steadies herself for her shot. Just before she gets it off, Paige adds, “You gonna repay me for all the concealer I had to buy last week?”

Her words startle Cam, but the shot is still money – it bounces off of the rim into the net, and the blonde sighs when her distraction effort fails. “You are such a cheater,” Cam gripes.

“What?” Paige cries, feigning innocence. “It was just a question.”

“Yeah, right,” she mutters under her breath, but her cheeks hurt from grinning. She scoops up the ball and shoves Paige out of the way with her hip. Paige huffs, moving, and Cam sits flat on the ground. Cam can feel Paige’s gaze on her as she lines up her shot and sinks the ball in with ease. “Two for two.”

Paige extends a hand to help Cam up, shaking her hand, and Paige grabs the loose ball and takes her spot on the court. The blonde readies herself to shoot, but just before she flicks her wrist, Cam steps up next to her, her calf barely brushing Paige’s shoulder.

The ball sails off course, clanging harmlessly off the rim, and Paige looks at her with a betrayed expression. “You’re cheating for real!” she declares, gazing forlornly at the hoop, and Cam laughs as she helps her up.

“That’s H,” Cam states simply, a mischievous smile on her face. Paige doesn’t respond as she tracks down the basketball and studies the court to look for her next shot. “I don’t know, P. I think Aziaha would have made that one for sure.”

“Nah, don’t piss me off,” Paige grumbles, which makes Cam giggle. She steps up behind the hoop, squares her shoulders, and Cam is peacefully silent as Paige shoots the ball over the backboard. It circles around the rim once before falling in and she exhales a breath of relief.

Cam raises an impressed brow despite herself, grabbing the ball as it bounces back towards her, and Paige pats her on the hip with a smug look when she passes. “Make this next shot if I’m your favorite rookie,” she declares.

“How old are you?” Cam asks as she lines up her shot. “Twelve?” Paige grins in a way that makes Cam regret asking, having spent enough time at youth camps to know that Paige’s retort would sound a whole lot like twelve inches deep in your mom. “Don’t answer that.” She exhales to calm her mind. Paige, thankfully, watches in silence, but it’s for naught as the ball bounces off the rim, anyways.

“How’s that H taste?” Paige is beaming as she checks the ball back to Cam, who rolls her eyes in amusement.

“Like you’re not my favorite rookie,” Cam chirps sweetly.

Paige squawks in indignation, which elicits a round of laughter from Cam. They go back and forth like that for a few more rounds, trading buckets, misses, and banter that gradually decreases the distance between them. Before a shot, Paige would pretend to massage Cam’s shoulders like she’s a fighter in a boxing ring. Cam would nudge her elbow before she shoots, attempting to throw her off her game, but she pats her hip when she makes it regardless.

Cam didn’t think it could be this nice. She thought that night at the hotel would have ruined her and Paige’s friendship and chemistry – both on and off the court – but she’s finding that, in a way, it’s brought them closer. She would never call it a mistake. She would be the first to admit that she wanted it – in the moment. Paige is good company, keeps her on her toes, and is obviously attractive, although there are some things you can’t have twice.

She’s closer to making her peace with that night. The conversation that she and Paige plan to have later would hopefully give her some more clarity and comfort in it, but she knows without a doubt that they can’t have a repeat of it. They can’t let the lines blur or push the boundaries more than they already have. That’s enough for her.

Both her and Paige have accumulated HORS twenty minutes later, and the both of them know they have to wrap it up soon so Paige can freshen up before she actually has to head out for media. The thing about Cam is that she’s not going to bend over and let Paige win just because she won’t concede the game. She and Paige both nailed the half court shot, which meant that game point relied on whether or not they could make it from full court.

“I don’t even think I have the arm strength for this,” Cam admits, standing as close as she can to the back wall so she has plenty of room to run forward. “The fact that you’re a point guard gives you an unfair advantage.”

“You tappin’ out?” Paige goads, grinning, and Cam has to bite her tongue. If there was anything Paige was good at besides basketball, it was baiting Cam.

“Rookies first,” Cam states.

“You don’t want the smoke,” Paige responds. Cam has to fight the urge to shove her, but she’s sure that would only motivate the blonde more.

Paige glances up at the hoop, nearly one hundred feet away, and she readies her shot. With a running start, she plants her feet at the baseline and grunts as she lobs the ball across the court. Cam’s eyes track its movement, the clean arc, and her jaw drops in complete and utter disbelief when it hits the backboard and swishes in without further fanfare.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” she groans, not really enjoying the taste of defeat on her tongue, but she can’t really be mad for long as Paige grabs her by the shoulders and shakes in excitement. She rolls her lips to stifle her smile.

“Just go ahead and take that E,” Paige says, passing over the second ball they brought to the baseline. Cam takes it with an eyeroll. “You don’t gotta embarrass yourself in front of me.”

Cam doesn’t dignify that with a response. She palms the ball in her hands, pushing herself closer to the wall, and takes a deep breath like she’s about to sink a free throw instead of launching a ball almost one hundred feet across the court. With a running start, she plants at the baseline and lets her right hand do most of the heavy lifting, and the ball sails out of her grip.

Both her and Paige watch with a bated breath as it arcs in the air. It flies closer, and closer, and closer, until it circles around the rim once, then twice, and falls out unceremoniously.

As Paige celebrates for the second time that afternoon, all Cam can really think about is how badly she wants to fucking retire. Paige jostles her as Cam stares at the hoop, deadpan and unblinking.

Premonition might be a curse. She just had to tell Rickea that the 2025 class was all about energy and how they’d be welcoming vets to the league. Cam just can’t believe she got welcomed by Paige during a game of HORSE that started as a joke more than anything else.

Cam just sighs, extending her hand, and Paige daps her up with unadulterated glee on her face. “Say the thing,” she requests sweetly.

Cam’s tone is flat as she states begrudgingly, “You’re my rookie.”

Paige pumps her fist in the air, looking nothing like the nonchalant final boss she claimed she was. Then, if only to add salt to the wound, Paige nudges her with her elbow and says, “Welcome to the league, Cam Roman.”

Cam can’t find it in herself to be upset. She supposes Paige did earn it, and hypothetically if she does get tagged in a few press conference clips later about Paige claiming she welcomed Cam to the league, she only reposts the clip out of integrity on her Instagram story.

When Cam told Paige that they’d talk after the press conference, she wasn’t really expecting it to be over takeout at Paige’s barren apartment, but she figures it’s a good venue as any.

Paige welcomes her in with a sheepish expression and the smell of Chinese in the air. “I’m embracing the minimalist lifestyle,” she declares, gesturing minutely to the cardboard boxes sprawled around the room. There’s one in front of her couch, overflowing with a few trinkets like lego sets and framed photographs of Paige and her family and friends. Cam winces a little, briefly wondering who supervised Paige and her diabolical packing, but Paige’s apartment door clicks shut behind her and draws her attention back to the present.

Despite being lived in for only a few hours at most, Paige’s apartment is cozy and open. She has floor to ceiling windows in the kitchen overlooking the skyline, a cornucopia of takeout boxes littering the counter, and a few candles burning in the living room. They’re both dressed in casual clothes – Cam’s opted for a pair of comfortable, white gym shorts and a Wings t-shirt, while Paige has a loose pair of grey sweatpants hung low enough to reveal the band of her boxers and an old UConn tee.

“You’re doing better than I did when I first moved out here,” Cam admits, toeing off her slides and following Paige towards the kitchen. Paige throws a smile over her shoulder to let Cam know she’s listening as she sorts through the boxes. “I think I had takeout for a week straight because I didn’t have time to go buy pots and pans.”

“Shit,” Paige says instantly. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

Cam snorts. Paige passes a container to Cam, a simple order of lo mein and orange chicken, while she keeps the white rice and sweet and sour chicken for herself. There’s a bag of crab rangoons and eggrolls to share.

Almost absentmindedly, Paige pulls out the barstool at the counter for Cam before settling into the one next to it. Cam raises her brow but doesn’t say anything, taking a seat in the chair next to Paige, who passes a packet of plastic silverware and chopsticks like they’ve been in this position a hundred times before.

“You settling in okay?”

Paige shrugs a tired shoulder, shoveling a forkful of rice into her mouth. “Getting there,” she confesses. “Got a lot of shit to unpack, but…didn’t want it easy, right?”

Cam smiles knowingly at her. “I meant challenging as in getting your shot blocked by BG a couple of times. Not getting your ass kicked by cardboard boxes and IKEA instruction manuals.”

“I happen to be very handy,” Paige sniffs. “Don’t need no instruction manual. Or all those extra screws they pack in there.”

Cam stares at her unblinkingly. Paige stares back, something like mischief in her eyes as she spears a piece of chicken with her fork. The corner of her lips twitch ever so slightly. “Please tell me I’m not sitting on a chair that’s gonna collapse.”

“If you fell, I’d make sure you were okay before I laughed at you,” Paige offers unhelpfully.

Cam huffs. “Thanks. Just what any girl wants to hear.”

Paige smiles, and the two of them settle into a comfortable rhythm as they eat their dinner. Paige shares a couple of stories from media, telling Cam all about the embroidered cowboy hat she got and how done she is with random reporter questions about the Dallas heat and TexMex. That makes Cam laugh – it’s fitting to see that the reporters hadn’t gotten any better questions to ask besides food and the weather.

The peace lasts for a few moments until Paige’s fork hits the bottom of her takeout container and the last of her chicken is done. She clears her throat, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Elephant in the room?” she asks hesitantly.

Cam nods, pushing her leftovers away, and pauses for a moment. Finally, she settles on her words. “I think I might have overreacted a little,” she admits.

Paige offers a gentle smile. “I think it was a pretty valid crash out,” she states. “You were concerned about the locker room and making things awkward. I also get that the entire world would probably explode if word got out.”

“Yeah,” Cam agrees. She rests her chin in her palm. “I mean, I’m also…your vet,” she says carefully. The blue of Paige’s gaze is intense, but Cam forces herself to meet her eyes. “That night was out of character for me. I’m not usually so…”

“Carefree?”

“Reckless,” Cam supplies, and Paige nods, understanding. “I don’t regret it. You don’t either. That’s something we’ve got to stand on. I just wasn’t really thinking about…you know, the consequences of sleeping with my rookie.” Her words are dry, which makes Paige chuckle. “I don’t wanna deal with red tape from the front office. Definitely not the media. And I definitely didn’t want to make things weird with us.”

Paige’s smile turns a little crooked. “We’re good. I told you. We’re responsible adults.”

“Friends, if you will,” Cam adds.

Paige sounds all too smug when she pipes in with, “Best friends.”

Cam scoffs, rolling her eyes in amusement, feeling the final bits of tension leave her shoulders completely. They were good. No more issues. “Don’t push it, rook.” Paige raises her hands in surrender, a coy smile on her face as she slides out of the bar stool to start grabbing their trash. She waves off Cam when she tries to help, her expression far too adamant, so she bites her tongue and stays seated while Paige cleans up. “Paige?” she asks hesitantly.

“What’s up?” She glances at Cam briefly over her shoulder, the diamond studs in her ears glinting in the light as she turns, and Cam’s fingers drum lightly over the granite of Paige’s countertops.

Her voice is small when she says, “We can’t let it happen again.” It gives Paige pause, and she turns fully, leaning against the countertop. Her gaze is imploring – not offensive, just as though she’s trying to understand. “We’re friends. I’m your vet, you’re my rook. Nothing more. No need to make a good thing complicated, yeah?”

Paige raises a teasing brow. “You sure you can handle that, Cam?”

She narrows her eyes, which draws a laugh from Paige. “Can you?” she retorts. “You’re obsessed with me. It’s sickening.”

“I’m keeping you young,” she emphasizes. “Big difference.” Cam exhales, the noise sounding more like a breathless laugh. Paige clears her throat, fiddling with the towel in her hands. “I hear you,” she says, just so it’s absolutely clear, and the expression on her face eases when Cam meets her eyes. “I care about you and the team. We’ll keep it clean. But don’t think for one moment I’m gonna make your job any easier. You chose me on draft night – you’re stuck with me.”

Clean. Cam could work with that. There wasn’t any reason to change who they were or how they bantered, and if Cam was being honest, she didn’t want to. She liked this relationship she had with Paige, the slight push and pull and how they challenge each other. The mutualistic getting on each other’s nerves.

“Easy’s boring, right?” Cam reminds her, and a grin grows on Paige’s face, matching the sly one on Cam’s. Paige returns to the dishes, throwing jokes over her shoulder that Cam can’t help but laugh at. They’d keep it clean. Orderly. No chaos.

But entropy has to increase or remain constant. There was no circumventing that – it was a law of the universe. Ease wasn’t, though. Ease wasn’t just boring, and for Paige and Cam, they’d realize that it would be downright impossible.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #dallas wings #wnba #wnba x reader #paige bueckers fic

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maocin · 2 days ago

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To my understanding this is a bit of a "you'll know it when you see it" but I think one could broadly generalize the deer skull Christian god stuff and pomegranate stuff as separate instances of the same thing.

Deer skull Christian god is when white Americans living on razed land and immersed in hegemonic Christian culture look into a new-growth forest and start talking about connecting to Nature and to the Old Gods. It's "pagans" who are just putting a fresh coat of mythological paint on the protestant values their grandparents had. It's the modern version of those hudson river valley school painters. You might see what I'm talking about in the context of landscape painting, how there's either "pretty tree (I like to paint trees)" or "pretty tree (granted thus to mankind by the LORD our God, and the God of our fathers, and of Isaac, and of Abraham, and of Jacob)". Normally the difference is the lighting.

Pomegranate poetry is all those poems you see about how love is like a pomegranate because it stains your hands and you want to eat the other person and it's very difficult but very rewarding. This one if you Google you will find hundreds of examples very quickly. It was a good metaphor the first time it was written, I'm sure, but when it's the ten thousandth poem, it starts to be annoying. Melodramatic instead of evocative.

The broad category of this Thing that's being complained about is, I _think_, the tendency of unskilled, uncurious, or uninteresting writers to return to popular figurative language instead of being inspired to write their own, leading to tons of overwrought writing that falls flat due to the lack of thought, intent, and depth. Combine that with the Tumblr Tone (tm) that I'm sure you have some familiarity with and you get this angsty style of writing that's just tossing figurative language out there, often stuff that the writer has absolutely no connection to.

This is all thoughts though. I can try to find some posts of the original thing to rather than posts mocking it, but this sort of stuff is dying out now that people are so sick of it. That, or the current crop of these writers has gotten mature enough to not post their slop and we'll get some different boring trite motifs when the next ones come along. Really it should be always remembered that I don't know anything about anything and am just guessing.

I think it's important to occasionally make fun of Deer Skull Christian God Pomegranate type writing for the exact same reason that you have to actually write that sort of thing. You have to develop an original voice as an author and that will inevitably take you through the Faux Gothic Melodrama Swamps.

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kurizz · 2 days ago

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Pink Poly Club (miromabby) Part 2

click for part 1

Summary: Mira had a solo interview—at least, that’s what she thought. But right when it started, two pink-haired boys showed up and joined in. What was meant to be calm quickly turned into a chaotic interview with all three of them. No one knew what was going to happen next.

Word Count: 1250

a/n: im bad w titles and posting. lets just say this is part two even though there's no significant connection between the first fic i posted.

-----------------

“What do you think of the ship MiRomAbby?” the host asked Mira.

With a forced smile, she looked at the camera. “I think our fans are creative, but there’s nothing going on between us.”

The audience let out a chorus of disappointed “Aww”s and suspicious “Hmm”s, some clearly thinking she was lying. She wasn’t though.

“Is that so?” the host asked. He stood up and turned to face the crowd. The studio lights were blinding, but his smile was even brighter—like he had something up his sleeve. “Actually, we have surprise guests today. Would you like to meet them now, folks?”

Mira’s brows furrowed. She sat up straight. She hadn’t been informed of this.

“LET US ALL CHEER for Romance and Abby of Saja Boys!”

The crowd went wild—but Mira’s heart went wilder.

What? They’re here?!

No one told her. No one warned her.

Fans squealed and chanted as the boys made their entrance, the guys had their eyes immediately locked in on her. Their smiles teased with a sweet charm that made the air a little warmer.

She averted her gaze, ignoring the weird tingling feeling in her chest. Stop it, Mira.

They waved at the crowd like boy band royalty, soaking in the cheers of the people. Mira didn’t move. She was trying to compose herself.

They took their respective seats on either side of her. She noticed how they were always like this, keeping her in the middle. It was like this during their fansign event, and it's the same now.

Mira tried to play it cool, but the host had other ideas.

“So, who confessed first? Was it Mira?”

She was visibly taken aback, “As if! Nobody confessed anything—”

“Yet.” Abby cut her off playfully.

The crowd was loving this. Mira, not so much.

“I’ve asked Mira. About time we hear your answers too.” The smug look on the host’s face was irritating. “What do you think of MiRomAbby?”

“Oh, we heard there were rumors,” Romance stated, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. “And we thought, why not confirm everything?”

“What?” Mira whipped her head in his direction. He met her gaze with a sweetly masked innocence.

Abby nodded, “Yeah. Like, confirm that we’re all just friends…with really good chemistry.”

The host cackled, clearly thriving. “So no truth to the MiRomAbby ship?”

Romance lazily leaned in. “I mean, unless Mira wants to change her answer.”

“I don’t.” Mira blinked, her response quick.

“You sound so sure.” Abby chuckled in amusement. It was close to her ear, making her shift in her seat.

“Because I am sure.” her gaze sharp and challenging.

The host clapped his hands together, bringing the attention back to him. “Alright, time for a little fun. We’ve got some stuff prepared that were highly requested—”

Mira huffed. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“—from your fans.” The host grinned. “Let’s start off with a classic: the heart monitor game!”

Some staff emerged from the sidelines to stick the sensor patches onto them. Their heart rates appeared on the big screen for everyone to see. Mira’s was already elevated, while the boys’ were on the lower side.

“Seems like someone’s a little nervous…” Romance teased, his voice smooth and low.

Mira took a deep breath. “It’s because I’m annoyed. That’s all.”

His brow quirked upwards, a small grin playing on his lips. Ugh, why is she even looking at him?

“And now it’s time for some Truth or Dare.” The host barely let the tension settle. “This one comes from sajaxhuntrix4ever. They said: ‘I dare you to hold hands for 10 minutes. If you let go, you’ll have to redo. P.S. We love you and support pink poly!’”

Mira’s blood ran cold. The cheers were deafening.

“Now that’s one way to start the game,” the host laughed. “Alright then, the timer starts once you hold hands.”

Abby offered his hand to her, head slightly tilted, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Whenever you’re ready, Mira.”

He said her name slowly, like he was enjoying the sound of it on his mouth. Her heart was already thudding in her chest. She glanced up at the screen and saw the BPM number climbing higher. No. Calm down.

With an abrupt motion, she grabbed both their hands without another thought. Let’s get this over with.

The timer began.

Romance shifted into a more comfortable position and casually readjusted his hold on her. He slid his warm fingers between hers, lacing them together with a satisfied hum. Mira chose to ignore it.

“Okay, next one is from the user supremecolorpink. They asked: ‘Why can’t you just date? Don’t worry, we support you!’”

Mira sighed. “I appreciate all the support, but it’s simply because I’m not… interested.”

That slight hesitation. What happened to being sure, Mira?

“That's not a very nice joke,” Abby teased, bringing their intertwined hands on his chest with a sly smile. “Not even a spark of interest?”

Yeah, no, I'm definitely not interested...right..?

She could feel the warmth of his chest seeping into the back of her hand. Her throat suddenly felt dry, “Enough. Next.”

“Between Romance and Abby, who do you like more?”

The two boys exchanged glances.

“None.” Mira was quick with it, her eyes shut tight with restraint.

More ridiculous questions followed, and somehow, she managed to get through them. When does this end?

The host chuckled before he read the next card. Upon reading, his eyes widened a fraction. “Ah, finally, another dare—and it’s a fan favorite: the Pepero Game!”

The room erupted in cheers of excitement, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in Mira’s chest. No, not like this.

The host took notice and didn't miss a beat.

“Well, would you look at that? Someone’s excited.”

Excited?

Mira looked to her left, as if trying to hide her face from the crowd. Things were starting to feel uncomfortable, and her shoulders grew tense. She didn't like this. She wanted to make the fans happy but not at the expense of her own. The room now feels suffocating.

Suddenly, she felt gentle, comforting rubs on both her hands, like it was trying to help her relax. She slowly glanced down at one hand, then the other—then up at their faces. They weren't even looking at her but their thumbs were rubbing soft soothing circles on her hands.

“Alright, Mira, you’ll need to choose a partner—” the host began, already scanning between Romance and Abby with a grin.

But before he could finish, Abby raised his free hand with a chuckle, “Actually, I think we’re overdue for a water break. I might pass out.”

A few people laughed from the crowd. Some were concerned.

Romance nodded, grinning. “Yeah, I’m thirsty too.”

“Oh look, the timer’s up. We can let go now.” he added.

Romance and Abby gently released Mira’s hands. She blinked, still trying to process the sudden shift. They removed the sensor patch from Mira's body, both their eyes fixed on her face.

“You’re thirsty too, right, Mira?” Abby asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“Come on, let’s go.”

That’s when they led her backstage.

Minutes later, a staff member whispered to the host that the three idols had slipped away, mentioning something about an emergency.

Whispers began to swirl instantly. Fans speculated wildly, their phones lighting up with theories and guesses. Had they ditched the show?

The buzz didn’t die down for the rest of the night.

________

click for part 3

it's so embarassing that i dont know how to use this thing </3 i feel like a grandma but im not that old i swear (or maybe i am) im just not a tumblr typa gal. dont laugh at me or maybe do, as long as it makes u happy. you can suggest stuff so it would help me have ideas. like, be it fluffy, angsty, or spicy. just a teeny bit spicy, like this tho 🤏🏻 nothing too crazy unless… i didnt say ill be writing them all so dont keep your hopes up. if you say please then maybe i would reconsider 😮‍💨

@suzieq1948374 @hillyj579

#kpop demon hunters #miromabby #romance x mira x abby #mira x abby #mira x romance #romance x abby #saja boys #huntrix #fanfic

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pedge-page · 2 days ago

Text

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: And Then There Were Four...

notes: I had a request a long time ago asking about the fam going to a water park. This took me so long because Its actually quite a big chapter! strong recommend reading! This takes place when Sarah is around 4 but Ellie is not quite born yet. Some Tommy and Maria development here as well!

Warnings: pregnancy announcement, some post pregnant body insecurity, unprotected sex, silght breeding kink, pool sex, mentions of unplanned pregnancies, not proofread

18+ ONLY

- - - -

There’s never been such a hot, sunny, cloudless, beautiful summer day.

At least, according to Sarah. Who conveniently saw a TV commercial about the local water park, SplashTown, and now is raving about when you’ll be taking her. Calling up the weather forecast each day like the local advertisement “the PERFECT day for a water park!” She exclaims like a salesperson.

Honestly? It was a good call by your almost 4-year-old. It’s been a long time since your family took a day trip to do something fun. She’s starting to get the age that she’s going to remember these things, so making family fun is now a top priority for you.

Joel agreed, though he wasn’t all that excited about spending an entire day with sun burn and bleached chorine and back bruises on those hot ass plastic slides.

So here you are, all piled in the truck with Joel at the helm, and you in the passenger seat rubbing his thigh; your giddy little girl in the back pointing towards the approaching parking lot signs. and—

“Wow I haven't been to a water park in decades!” Tommy shouts from the other back seat. “Joel, remember we used to go by ourselves when I was like 14?”

Joel just sighs loudly, ignoring his jumpy overgrown brother reverting to his child like stasis.

"Remind me again why we had to bring Tommy?” He asks you grumpily.

"The tickets were cheaper if we bought it as a set of 4 rather than 3 individual.”

Your husband shakes his head with tight lips. “Yet another reason 4 is the perfect number for a family,” he says, recalling that day on the beach where he revealed his not so subtle opinion on just how many children the two of you would ideally have.

You raise your brows amused.

Tommy shouts from the back, “What are doin’ for dinner, by the way?”

Joel rolls his eyes. He’s focused on the road head while wiggling four of his chunky fingers in your face, mouthing ‘F-O-U-R’ in an I-told-you-so kind of way. You ruffle his soft curls affectionately.

Your stomach churned uneasily since you woke up at 8 this morning. It’s been a minute since you were out and about in public wearing nothing but a bathing suit. Going to the beach with a 8 month pregnant body is one thing. Going to a water park with a post pregnancy one is another. One you were never really worried about until this very day.

You take a deep breath.

You know that, no matter where you are or what shape you take, Joel’s always gonna look at you like Mr Owl with the tootsie pop — and you’re the tootsie pop— so the worry on that note settles a bit inside.

There’s other things, very recent things, to be anxious about for sure.

Once parked, walked (and skipped) towards the front entrance, tickets scanned at the gate, the four of you make your way to the cabana’s to get situated.

“Show me your backs, people,” you announce to your little huddle. Sarah, all decked out in her brand new pink and sparkle bathing suit complete with mesh tutu skirt, shuffles over first as you squirt a generous slob of sunscreen onto your palm and begin slathering it all over her body. Rubbing a little too aggressively, she squints and scrunches her face, but she doesn’t protest. You cake her face until her skin is a shade lighter than before.

“You’re gonna give her reverse cancer with all that,” Joel chuckles. You brush him off and smudge the excess on her little cheeks, squishing her cheeks as takes the abuse.

Now she’s whiter than cocaine on Christmas morning.

You smile.

“You next, big boy.”

Joel grumbles but sits between your legs and you begin rubbing it all over his face.

While you don’t notice, he can’t help but grin at how you tilt your head and stick your tongue out like an artist working to preserve her masterpiece—protecting her family from the wretched sun.

“Back please!”

Joel yanks his top one handedly over his head, revealing his pasty skin.

You hum and bite your lip. Yeah, Joel’s let the role of ‘Dad’ take over his every demeanor. Body included. and FUck, if that soft tummy and broad shouldered man isn’t a sight for sore eyes…

It gets enough middle aged woman’s heads turning, so you quickly frown, slap his skin up and then usher his shirt back on. That sexy ass shit is for your eyes only.

“Thomas!” You scream, making Joel and Sarah curl inward.

The younger brother holds his hands up and back away. “I’m workin’ on my tan so uh—no I’m good.”

“You’re white as f—heck,” you correct yourself while sideways glancing at Sarah. “You’re gonna burn.”

“He’s too cool to be fearful of sunburn, babe,” Joel says, hoping you’ll forfeit the losing battle.

You all find a nice empty area with a few lawn chairs to set up base outside the tidal pool.

And of course, the child who only passed her toddler swimming lessons a few months ago is dying to get in the giant tub of crashing waves and cascading people.

“Please!pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” she whines, swinging on your arm and shouting it into the air.

You grumble. While you would much prefer she be in a body of water that is no deeper than a foot and is the width of a bathtub, you lessen your worry as seeing the waves aren’t on and there aren’t many people in there. “Can you at least wear your floaties?” You suggest, wagging the two arm holding balloons suggestively.

“Nah, we don’t need those, right bubba?” Joel rubs her hair. “I got her, babe. I’ll carry her the whole time.”

“Nooo!” Sarah protests, but Joel’s already kissing your forehead reassuringly (winning some Daddy points along the way) and scooping her into his arms.

“Stay in the shallow!”

Joel waves you off dismissively as they skip into the chlorine filled open sea.

Once gone, you notice Tommy checking his phone anxiously every few seconds but closing it disappointingly. A few women along the way eye him excitedly, but he just keeps to his phone the entire time.

“You doing okay?”

He shakes his head out of his trance. “Yeah. Just … haven’t heard from Maria today.”

Oh—shit.

The last you heard, the two of them had a pretty nasty fight and Tommy had been crashing at your place for the last couple weeks. He had supposedly gone back to have a talk with her yesterday. He didn’t come back till morning, and didn’t really update you nor Joel on the situation. If anything, he looked perplexed, pale, and shaken. You feared maybe that was the final straw in their on and off relationship. Unfortunately, you are completely left in the dark as to what really happened.

You rub his shoulder calmly. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, channeling as much zen into his chest as possible before exhaling and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s… its actually—“

Squishing steps in her pool sandals while holding Daddy’s hand with a death grip, a completely drenched and shocked Sarah is walks back towards you. Her expression is just blank, dripping with water like she was baptized 12 times in a row and forgot whether she breathed air or water for a living.

“Sarah? Sarah honey are you okay?” You get to your knees and try to comfort her with warm hands along her arms. She just nods quickly, feinting something of a half smile, half frown all at once. She looks more confused than anything else.

Joel, who’s suspiciously quiet and equally drenched, is shaking. Though not from cold, but from sheer effort of trying to hide his laughs. “She got damn near waterboarded.” His face is so red, wheezing in a high pitched, barely audible tone while recalling the image.

He had taken her way deeper than “shallow”, and made Sarah promise not to tell mommy. The two snickered, and Joel hoisted her on his shoulders and waded into the deeper end, where the water came up to his mid section. The waves came on, and Joel was honestly expecting to be able to jump with him and give her a little ride. She was super excited, smiling giddily while Joel held both her hands in his next to his ears. The first wave came up to Joel’s cheek, and he quickly squirted it out with a smile. She laughed with excitement, ready for the second one—

Instead, the second wave completely kicked his ass and knocked both them off his feet, falling backwards before regaining ground. All he saw were a pair of flimsy pink sandals attached to a little pair of feet wipe past his vision before being dunked underwater. He stood quickly, shook off the water from his head and eyes. Only to realize he was a whole 3-year-old lighter.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he frantically looks around, already imagining the horror you’re going to have at the fact he just drowned his babygirl before—

He catches a glimpse of her tutu flailing under water with a foot within grasp as she waved her arms to get back up to the surface on her own. He snatched that ankle, yanks her in the air, and sets her upright.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Sarah nods, blowing water out of nose. She seemed totally fine, really, just a little confused as to which way was up. Joel protectively wraps her body with his, blocks the next wave from knocking her out of his sight with his feet firmly planted and prepared this time.

“Shallow,” she says plainly, pointing back towards the shore, and Joel has nothing more to add but complete agreement. He grabs her arms securely and wades back, never once letting he go.

Now though, the thought of it is a lot funnier than when it was happening.

“Almost lost her for a sec. Did you know those waves were like 10 feet high?"

"That's so not funny,” you scowl, although you could imagine you two little idiots getting wiped out by a controlled wave like a human sized super soaker, before retiring in defeat.

“Sarah, how about we stick to the toddler pool, okay?”

She gives two enthusiastic thumbs up in extra agreement.

“Hey wait, I ain’t a toddler. what about me?” Tommy interjects.

Joel tuts. “You’re actin’ like one.”

“Slides? Anyone?” The younger brother points behind him towards the water slide heaven.

Or as you view it, the bloodied noses, brush burn, cold shock lagoon.

“Can we do floaty one? Please mommy pleasepleaseplease—“ Sarah tugs at your arm incessantly.

You grumble, but even Tommy is doing his best puppy eyed beg at you.

“Why are all these stairs—ugh—made of wood? Falling apart, termite ridden, not up to Miller Contracting Code—“

“They’re just fine, sweetie,” Joel reassures you. Although he too side eyes the state of the construction and wonders if this will be the first and last Miller family trip together.

The two of you finally catch up to the rest of the line, bending backwards to stretch your backs and sucking air.

You glance up at the perky fit ass that’s connected to Tommy above you, who’s just vibrating with excitement. He literally jogged up these stairs, two at a time, not even huffing, and he carried both sets of floats. This particular slide can do a two seater rider.

“I wanna slide with Mommy!” Sarah shouts.

The four of you then look at the remaining buddies who need to reverse cowgirl floaty.

“I aint little spoonin’ you,” Joel says after they size each other up.

The worker who is helping you and Sarah get saddled up in the slide chimes in on Joel and Tommy conversation. “Smaller rider in the front.”

“That’s you,” they both say to each other in unison.

“I’m taller—“

“I’m older—“

“I’m not bottoming for you—“

“Why would you say it like that?”

“Get in the front, pops!”

“You first, kid, since ya got all that youthful energy—“

“JUST GET IN THE BOAT,” you shout over them, causing everyone to go quiet and look your way.

The light flashes green and you and Sarah are pushed off into the dark tunnel with an echoing “Wooooo!!!!”

Tommy sticks his tongue out and gets in the front, Joel in the rear, the two of them fighting over foot placement and elbows squishing balls before the worker just kicks them down and hopes for the best.

You and Sarah gracefully emerge, skidding across the water gently before coming to a stop to disembark.

Your back is certainly killing you but you fake only smiles for your excited kid who thought that was a roller coaster.

A second later, Joel and Tommy’s floaty comes barreling down the slide next to yours—with no bodies in it—

OH sorry, one body, Tommy, coming down on his belly face first and—oh there’s Joel a moment later shooting out feet first and slamming into his brother as the two are catapulted way further into the pool than should be possible with the minimal flow of water coming.

Both disoriented Millers jump up from the water, shaking their heads vigorously. Tommy spits water from his mouth, just as Joel grasps his head and dunks him back under.

“I’m riding with your wife next time,” Tommy growls, rubbing his shoulder with a wince.

Joel spits a stream of water on his face. “Over my dead body.”

“Your husband sucker kicked me in the back!”

“Oh yeah, not before he bit my damn ankles!”

“Maybe don’t shove your feet in my face?”

You sigh heavily. You’re kinda glad you didn’t have boys.

“Me n you next, right?” Tommy says your way, ignoring Joel’s death glare.

“No,” Joel interrupts once again to Tommy’s annoyance. “Because then Sarah would have to ride with me, and she doesn’t wanna, she wants to ride for her momma. Honestly babe, you’d be doin’ a dissatisfaction to your own daughter who’s only wish is to stick with her favorite person in the whole world,” he gleams as if he’d just presented the winning argument for a Nobel Peace award.

You shrug. “Okay, then you can ride with Tommy again.”

Joel’s eyes go wide. “Ya know sometimes kids need to learn hard lessons about not getting what they want and this is a perfect opportunity for Sarah. Sorry kid, you’re with uncle Tommy.”

After the second slide down, you and Joel’s backs are absolutely whipped.

The two of you don’t even need to communicate the envy you have of Tommy’s youthful body, springing back into action when he gestures towards another torture device:

“Let’s do the big one.”

“No. Hell no. I’m not a teen anymore. Body won’t survive it.”

“Yeah Tommy, you go ahead. That’s…Joel nor I would be able to get up from that.”

The younger Miller scoffs. “A slide? Seriously? You guys really are getting old.”

You and Joel look at one another. “Baby are we…getting old?” You ask incredulously.

Neither one of you are upset about it. Instead, you grin warmly at one another.

Getting old with the love of my life sounds like the best thing in the world.

You make your way to the much safer, happier, safer, splashy, safer kiddie pool that is much safer for kids your daughter’s age.

As Sarah wades in the water up to her belly, Joel and Tommy huddle under the jellyfish water canopy of shade, sighing contently under the cool flow of water splashing their heads.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” you announce, and Joel waves you off.

He never realized how fucking exhausting just walking and getting wet was. (He wonders if that’s what your life is like)

“DADDY!” Sarah shouts, jumping in the water for the giant bucket overhead that she’s too short to reach.

Joel slaps his knees and gets to his feet, entertaining her as she gets absolutely pommeled by a few gallons of water.

They splash around together, him hoisting her in the air by her arms then dipping in again with smiles and laughter. It’s all fun, until he gets the odd itch there’s something off with you genuinely not being here.

A seemingly single, girl dad all wet and shirtless, playing with his kid in the kiddie pool, the ONLY dad playing in the kiddie pool amongst all mothers… He looks up and sees every single woman in here eying him like a piece of meat, and he knows he's in deep shark territory.

Frantically looking around, he picks Sarah up like a football and waddles helplessly through the crowd of predators, desperately needing his wife back.

As if sensing his trouble, he sighs relief when he sees you pumping your arms, steam billowing from your nose like a ranging bull and wading in like splitting the Red Sea, dead set on his rescue. His one and only great white shark here snap them all away with your snarls, growls, and hinged jaw.

Joel immediately wraps his arm around you and never leaves your touch.

Eventually you all sit in the sand pit while Sarah sits between the three adults, making castles.

Joel clears his throat. “So how’s Maria doin’? Ain’t heard much lately.”

Your eyes go wide as you slap Joel’s shoulder.

“Ow—what!”

“They’re” you lower your voice, though sheepish Tommy can hear perfectly well. “They’re taking a break.”

“Oh—oh! Oh I’m—okay no that’s … good. Some times some space—“

“Actually,” Tommy says, but the way he brushes his elbow makes you snap back at Joel.

“Stop it! You’re making this worse—“

“Nobody tells me anything!” Your husband whispers.

“Yeah and this is why!”

“Maria and me—“ Tommy starts again.

Joel winces when you bring your hand down on his bicep again. “Stop slapping me! You’re gonna give me slap AND sun burn!”

“Joel, seriously!”

“Woman, I swear!—“

“We’re pregnant.”

You both go silent, minus the clank of your sunglasses siding off and falling on poor Sarah’s noggin.

The younger Miller brother is radiating more anxiety than the sun UV rays right now.

Joel quietly raises his hand up for a calm high five. You bare your teeth and quickly slap it down.

Tommy rubs his shoulder tensely. “I’m just…I don’t know. Nervous.”

“Are you two…?”

“We’re …together. I think it was a cold shock but it—kinda put shit into perspective, ya know? I think even she admitted breaking things off was probably because of the pregnancy—before she even knew it. Was off hormonally but didn’t realize why until the test.”

“What did you two even fight about?”

“Tommy chuckles, suddenly realizing how stupid their argument was. “She got mad cause I left the toothpaste cap open on the sink.”

“Oh man, even I could have told you she was pregnant. Better get out now. They don’t get any better,” Joel teases sarcastically, bumping your shoulder in jest.

You smile warm bright and with an underlying venomous sting that even he can’t detect. “Hey Joel sweetie? Can I see your tongue?”

“Mmhm why?” He says, already sticking the whole thing out on display, wide and ready and trusting as always.

You toss a fistful of sand in his mouth. Joel doubles back and chokes, taking a moment to hack up the grains sticking to everything. As he coughs and spits and sputters, you rub Tommy’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay. How are you feeling about it?”

He shrugs with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know what comes next. You guys did it after you were married. Feel like I’m all out of step now,” he laughs nervously.

“Honey, it really doesn’t make a difference. Joel and I…we didn’t—“ you look down at Sarah who’s busy making bridges for her smudged up castle, before covering her ears with both palms slapped together like a head sandwich. “We didn’t plan her either. It just happened to be after we were married.”

Joel returns to the conversation with a hoarse choke. “Earned that one,” he croaks. After clearing his throat a bit, he finally slaps Tommy’s back. “Congrats, man. It’s really…it’s really the best thing…” he glances back over at you and Sarah, glowing in more ways than just the hot sun. He almost forgets time hasn’t stopped, that he’s not just oogling at his wife and baby like the greatest sight in the world (minus the fact he’s still got grains of sand under his tongue). He shakes his mind from your hypnotic glory before reassuring Tommy that everything is one day at a time.

Tommy agrees. “I just needed a minute to process it. I think—I’m actually—well… I’m excited…?”

You chuckle. “Is that a question?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I never gave it a thought. Never thought family life was for me. Maria is all for me, but I didn’t… I never really thought about having a family with her till …uh.”

“Till you saw how freaking awesome we are,” you boast proudly with your hands on your hips. Sarah has no idea what’s going on, but one look at you, your head held high with a dignified glint in your eye and sun radiating off you like the queen you are, and the little one mimics your posture to the tee like a mini me.

Tommy giggles and shakes his head. “Yeah. Something like that.”

You kiss Sarah’s head with a big smooch before she goes back to making holes in the sand.

“So you’re happy.”

He smiles. It’s soft, sincere, and so easy to overlook unless you knew what a genuine human being Tommy Miller can be once you strip back the ego and playful charisma. “I’m happy. But still … anxious.”

You can’t contain your inner excitement, shaking and then launching into a Tommy with the biggest, tightest hug you can muster as you swing him side to side. “Listen its gonna be rough sometimes but its gonna be magical, and I know you two are going to do great. You’re gonna be such a great dad Tommy, I know it.”

He’s relieved to hear it from someone for the first line. As if it was the one thing he needed to know.

“I love you, and I say this respectfully, but you better get your ass back over to her as soon as we get home.” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah yeah I know.”

Your smile wains for a moment, quiet yet almost threatening. He can feel the tightening of your finger tips digging into his muscles.

Tommy picks up on your thoughts real quick.

“You can’t get all angry at Maria just cuz she didn’t tell you first.”

“I guess I’m just CHOPPED LIVER to her, her BEST FRIEND and she doesn’t even—!” you start stammering, getting louder and more agitated before Joel puts his hand on your head like an off button. “I need to calm down.” You pinch your fingers to your thumbs and take a deep breath, channeling inner zen. It suddenly dawns on you, the convenient timing of this all. “Oh my god, I can’t wait!”

“For what?” Joel asks curiously.

“Um—to be an aunty! Sarah with a cousin!” You quickly reply. “Uncle Joel!”

Shit.

Joel gives you a confused look. It definitely wasn’t what you were gonna say. He knows that.

“Are you—?”

“Hot dogs!” Sarah shouts, pointing towards the cart that is sizzling up some fresh wieners and whose scent is wafting into your baby’s bloodhound-like nose. Thank goodness for it, as Joel and Tommy are seemingly distracted now with their equally hungry bellies.

Joel stands and dusts off his creaky knees from the sand. “You want one, babe?” He offers a hand out to help.

You rub your belly with a frown. “I’m good, I’m just gonna sit here for a bit. You go get her two.”

He winks at you before rushing off to Sarah, who’s already dragging Tommy to the cart about to con him in getting her some ice cream too.

By the End of day, everyone has warm skin, dried hair, droopy eyes. Sarah and Tommy and passed out on each other in the back. Tommy’s skin is tender to the touch, already starting to flake since he didn't want sun screen.

Joel drives silently. He looks at you, who's slowly succumbing to sleep on the passenger as you stare out the window peacefully.

At home, you rinse Sarah’s hair in bath and she's barely able to sit up. You pat her dry before she collapses in bed.

Joel asks Tommy to watch after Sarah. The younger Miller nods, crashing on the couch with the fan on high.

“Psst!” Joel taps your shoulder. You were about to get undressed yourself when he nodded his head to follow.

“What?” You ask curiously, closing the front door behind you as he sneaks you off to the community pool that’s closed after 6. Joel had maintenance keys to do any service stuff for the neighborhood, which included access 24 hours.

“Are you breaking into the pool?” You scoff.

“Me? No. I got clearance to work here. You? Yeah. Sneaky bad girl—“

The gate clicks open and Joel ropes you inside quickly.

You giggle as he latches the gate shut, his arm still around your waist. “What are we doing here, Miller?”

“What? It’s adult swim hour.” He draws you in close, his body pressed against yours. “Don’t ya wanna go skinny dipping’ with me?”

“I’m gonna keep my suit on this time.” You strip off your shirt and soaked shorts, and Joel does the same, making sure to watch you fully before he blinds himself with his own shirt.

You slip into the pool, sighing. It’s calm and quiet, cool to your sun-warmed skin. You were looking forward to just floating and unwinding until—

Joel rushes to you, wading in the water. You let out a shriek as he grabs your ass under water and wraps your legs around him. Cupping your face and kissing you, he backs you up against the wall.

“I wanted to do this all day,” he rasps, sucking your neck with passionate kisses. “You look so fuckin’ amazing.”

Despite the arousal, the needy whimpers you let out as he ruts his hard on against the seam of your crotch, you gulp. Your mind had been distracted all day, but now seemed like a good a time as ever.

"I had that appointment,” you tell him softly.

He continues to pepper you with hot kisses, taking your bathing suit strap down your shoulders. Mmm? Which one?" He bites into your shoulder blade teasingly.

"Ya know. With Spoon being protective around me..."

"Yeah, she loves ya,” he hums. He pulls your body flush against his, feeling the hard and soft outline of his torso and chest.

“…And… all the Pepsi, I’ve been drinking.”

He chuckles softly. "That ain't a medical emergency baby.” He continues to kiss down your neck. “Besides, ya only get like that when you're...."

He stops kissing, pulling away with realization in his eyes. H parts his lips, as if he’s let out a breath but hasn’t sucked another in. Looking to you, really, genuinely, as if it’s the first time today he’s actually put all his attention to you. Consciously knowing he should have known the whole damn time.

And you confirm it all with casual smile:

“I’m pregnant.”

There’s a frog that croaks from the grass next to you. The water filter plugging every so often in the distance.

"You’re....pregnant,” he repeats.

"Um yeah. What do you … think about that?”

He tries to find the correct words. Its like a bunch of lines of code are rambling through his brain, visibly on his face, but he can't help the first honest thought that tumbles out his mouth: “My dick is hard.”

You both combust into laughter.

He rubs his forehead on your collar embarrassingly. “I’m sorry shit that’s… that was my first thought. Oh my god, are you serious? Like really???"

You nod biting your lip.

"Holy shit, oh my god thats--! Wait are you… are you okay, are you excited? I mean, shit, I know we talked about it, kinda, but—but you don't have to be, we don’t have to--"

You can’t hide the gleeful smile bursting through your teeth. “I’m excited.”

He hugs and kisses you. “Me too!” He lets out a breath before gyrating his hips deeper against you, grinding the excitement directly against your cunt. “M’sorry, I cant help it. Fuck oh my god."

“Me too—Joel—please—I want to—“

He slips himself out of his trousers while rubbing your clit through your bottoms. "I knew you were glowing today. Thought it was just me. Fuck. Gonna make me a Daddy again. Wife's got such a fertile pussy. Shit. When do ya think it was?"

"That night--in the car. We went onna date"

"Shit really did breed ya on some back road. Fuck—“ he squeezes his eyes tight. “M’ not gonna last.”

“Should we be—doing this? In the pool? Thought no bodily fluids…”

“Its fine—I’ll clean it—“ he hastily rubs himself against your entrance

You chuckle. “The whole pool? That’s too much. We can get out and—“

“No—baby fuck I gotta have you now. Can’t wait another—“he slips his tip inside, and the two of you groan, frozen and clinging to one another. “ahhhhhh—second.”

You wrap your arms around his broach shoulders tightly, your noses rubbing against one another. You both huff, mouths gaping. You begin to ride him slowly.

“That’s my girl—that’s my momma,” he groans. One meaty hand is planted firmly under your ass, assisting your bounces, the other flat against the pool edge, holding you up so you don’t bruise your back. His biceps flex deliciously in the water.

You feel dizzy and alive all at once. Panting against one another, neither of you can contain your excited smirks. The thrill of your pregnancy, of doing it in a pool, of being sneaky and yet being the age you are now…it felt surreal.

Or maybe that was just the pregnancy hormones all over again…

It’s as if he read your mind. “Holy fuck I can’t wait—I can’t wait—“ he mumbles again and again. He’s thinking about your body, your belly, breasts, milk, 2am cravings and baby shoes and a new crib he can make, strollers and car seats and you and his whole family in his arms—

“I love you so much,” you keen. He fills you just right. He always had. A damn professional at making you sing every time.

“I love you.” He thrusts a little more incessantly, as best he can through the water. Your bodies ripple waves outwards from your motions, disturbing the pool’s serenity.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” you jeer.

“F-fuck—say it again—“ he growls.

“Gonna—gonna be a mommy—make you a Daddy again—!“

“More—Fuck—gimme more—“

neither of you have more to give at the moment. Seizing up, fingers clawing into one another’s skin, you both gasp, stilling with his cock rammed deep into you until you could feel his balls twitch against your bottom. He lets out an animalistic grunt with the first squirt of his cream into you, and your walls soon follow with perfect flutters that has him stuttering.

“I’m —so in love—“ he gasps, teeth grinding as he ruts his seed deep into you. He can barely see straight.

“Me—me too,” you moan. You feel like you’re on fire despite the cool water surrounding you. Everything hot and tense and heavenly as you ride out that high.

It takes a moment for you two to relax, still wrapped in each other’s embrace. It feels like home.

As he’s huffing into your shoulder, he starts laughing. Big and hearty and full of love. “You know what this means?”

You shake your head.

“I can finally kick Tommy out of family gatherings!”

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smirk.

“FOUR!” He shouts. “I’M GONNA HAVE ANOTHER BABY! That Makes FOUR OF US! Fantastic F—!”

You slap your palm over his lips. “Have you forgotten we’re not supposed to be here??”

He shrugs, kissing your hand instead.

You get yourselves as decent as possible before sneaking back out and over to your house. What was a very exhausting day just reinvigorated both your spirits for the rest of the night.

Tommy is still drooling into the couch when you tip toe back inside with shushed giggles.

“Oh my god—“ you gasp. Your earlier thought dawning on you.

Joel cups your belly, holding you close. “What is it?”

You smash his cheeks with both hands. “Maria and I are both going to have babies—together!”

Joel’s face frowns despite your obvious excitement. He glances at Tommy—the poor bastard having no idea what storm is about to hit.

You stomp your feet happily, smiling like a clown. But it quickly fades, and suddenly you’re breathing heavily, eyes shining with tears that begin to spill.

“What—what’s wrong baby?”

“I— I don’t—“ you hiccup and sniffle, unable to hide your emotional turmoil. “I want—I want—“

He’s desperately wiping your sudden tears with his thumbs, terrified of what’s going on right now.

“I WANT A MILKSHAAAAAKKKEEEE!” You bawl, finally tilting your head back and crying loudly into the air.

Tommy stirs awake, confused. “What’s wrong? What the hell did you do?”

Joel stares off at him. Jesus. it’s absolutely insane how quickly it all was happening again.

Sarah walks into the living room, awakened by your raucous crying. She rubs her eyeballs. “W-what’s wrong with—mommy?” She asks, concern dripping from her voice.

“Nothing baby, mommy is just—“

But the sounds of your loud, child-like sobs triggers Sarah’s worry, making her eyes water and tears spilling too.

Now both of you were crying.

Tommy covers his ears, looking between the two of you. “What is happening!”

The older, very older, Miller just puts his hands on his hips. He’s certain by the end of this pregnancy, he’ll lose full hearing in his left ear.

“We’ve got a rough year ahead of us, brother.”

Tommy tilts his head. “We?”

- - - -

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