#if you do ask I might take some time to respond

[purplereina11]

Based on this request

You’ve just moved back to Barcelona with your four year old daughter, and life has been all about her since the day she was born. Your long time friend Alba thinks it’s about time you started focusing on yourself again, especially when it comes to dating. She’s always loved to meddle in your love life, and now she’s pushing harder than ever.

The problem? The person she’s nudging you toward is her sister, charming, cocky, and exactly the kind of complication you’re not sure you’re ready for. Dipping your toe back into the dating pool is one thing… diving headfirst into something with Albas sister known for casual flings is another.

The fluorescent lights hum softly overhead as you trail behind Alba, your cart already half-filled with the essentials she'd insisted you needed to survive in your new apartment. The shelves are lined with unfamiliar brands, and you're grateful for her guidance. Being new to both the city and the country has been overwhelming at times, but Alba had taken you under her wing from your first day working at the school. It had been easy to fall into a friendship her warmth and humour cutting through the strangeness of starting fresh in a foreign place.

"Okay, you have to try this," Alba says, tossing a bag of some crunchy-looking snack into your cart with a grin. "They're addictive. Trust me."

You chuckle, nudging the cart forward as she leads the way toward the refrigerated section. "If I get hooked, I'm blaming you."

"That's fair," she quips, scanning the shelves for the brand of yogurt she'd been raving about earlier. "But if you're going to live here, you might as well eat like a local."

You're about to respond when you notice her face light up with recognition. "Hey!" Alba calls, her voice lifting in surprise. You follow her gaze to see a woman standing a few feet away, a basket hanging loosely from one arm and not just any woman.

Even if you weren't new to the city, you'd still recognise her, Alexia Putellas, Barcelona's star midfielder. The face plastered across billboards and news stands, her hair is swept back in a loose ponytail, and there's an effortless confidence in the way she carries herself, even in something as mundane as a supermarket aisle.

"What are you doing here?" Alba asks, already moving in for a hug. "I thought you had training all day."

Alexia returns the embrace with a soft laugh. "I did. Just grabbing a few things before heading home." Her gaze drifts to you curiously, and for a split second, you're keenly aware of how casual you look in your tracksuit and sneakers.

Alba pulls back, turning to you with a smile. "Oh! Alexia, this is my friend. We work together at the school. She’s new to the city, so I'm helping her get settled."

You extend a hand, trying to keep your nerves at bay. "Nice to meet you."

Alexia takes your hand in a firm but warm grip, her eyes lingering on yours a beat longer than necessary. "Nice to meet you too." Her voice is smooth, self-assured.

Alba, completely unfazed, continues chatting. "I was just introducing her to the best supermarket in the area. You know, so she doesn’t end up living off instant noodles."

A soft smile tugs at the corner of Alexia's mouth. "Good call. Alba's a pretty solid tour guide."

"The best," you agree, shooting a grateful glance at your friend.

For a moment, the three of you linger there in the middle of the aisle, the hum of the store filling the brief silence. There's an ease in how Alexia stands, but you don't miss the way her attention seems to return to you, her curiosity apparent. "Well, I won't keep you," Alexia says eventually, though her expression is warm. "I'll see you around?"

"Definitely," Alba replies, already dragging you toward the next aisle. But as you follow her, you can't help but glance back to see Alexia still watching, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze before she turns away.

The moment you're out of earshot, Alba nudges you with her elbow, a teasing grin on her face. "So... what do you think?"

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. "I think you forgot to mention your sister is Alexia Putellas."

Alba shrugs like it's no big deal. "I figured you'd find out eventually." She pauses for a beat before tilting her head toward you. "So? Do you like her?"

You blink, nearly missing a step. "What?"

"Come on," Alba presses, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I saw the way she was looking at you and don't even try to deny the way you were looking at her."

You scoff, grabbing a carton of juice off the shelf. "I just met her."

"And?" Alba grins wider. "You can still think she's hot. It's a simple question."

Heat creeps up the back of your neck, and you shake your head, trying not to give her the satisfaction. "She's your sister."

"I didn't ask if you were gonna marry her," Alba laughs. "I asked if you like her. Big difference."

You roll your eyes, though you can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "You're ridiculous."

"I'll take that as a yes," she sing-songs, spinning the cart around the corner. "Don't worry! I fully approve."

"You're not serious," you mutter, but she just grins wider.

"I'm always serious about quality entertainment," she teases. "And watching my sister and my new favorite person dance around each other? Gold. Pure gold."

You shake your head, biting back another laugh. "You're impossible."

"But you love me for it," she fires back, her voice full of warmth. "And hey if anything happens, you owe me dinner. Deal?"

You snort, tossing another item into the cart. "You're getting ahead of yourself."

Alba just grins wider, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "We'll see."

Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts in. "Still talking about me?"

Your heart stutters in your chest as you both turn to find Alexia standing at the end of the aisle, one brow quirked in amusement. She's holding a bottle of olive oil, but her gaze is fixed on you, clearly having caught more of the conversation than you'd like.

Alba, completely unbothered, grins wide. "Always. You know you're the family's favourite topic."

Alexia chuckles softly, stepping closer. "Good to know." Her eyes flick to you again, the corner of her mouth twitching. "And here I thought I was just picking up groceries."

You scramble to recover, ignoring the heat rising to your face. "Apparently, you're also a source of entertainment."

"I aim to please," Alexia replies smoothly, her gaze lingering just a little too long before shifting back to her sister. "Don't let her give you too much trouble."

"No promises," Alba says, practically glowing with delight as she watches the exchange.

Alexia shakes her head fondly before glancing at you one last time. "It was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you again."

"Maybe," you echo, hoping your voice sounds steadier than you feel.

As she walks away, Alba leans in, whispering under her breath, "Oh, you're definitely gonna see her again."

As you unload your groceries later that evening, the encounter still lingers in your mind. You don't know Alexia, but there was something about the way she looked at you curious, a little intrigued that stuck with you. It’s ridiculous, really. She’s a world-class athlete, and you… well, you’re just figuring out how to navigate a new city without getting lost.

You set the last carton of juice into the fridge, shutting the door with a sigh. The apartment is quiet, too quiet after the whirlwind of the afternoon and yet your mind is anything but. Alexia Putellas. You’d seen her face on posters, in ads, her name popping up in conversations at school even if you didn’t yet understand the full weight of her fame. But meeting her like that in a supermarket of all places was… unexpected. You replay the moment in your head, the subtle way her gaze had lingered, like she was cataloguing you, intrigued despite how utterly unremarkable you felt in your scuffed sneakers and worn-out hoodie. It had been a look that made you self-conscious, but not uncomfortable. If anything, it had made you aware, of yourself, of her.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, snapping you from your thoughts.

Alba [18:37] Sooooo… thinking about her yet? ;)

You roll your eyes, but your fingers move to reply anyway.

You [18:38] Absolutely not. I’m far too busy being a responsible adult and putting away groceries.

Alba [18:38] Lies. You’re probably staring at a yogurt cup thinking about her ponytail.

You bite back a laugh, shaking your head as you type.

You [18:39] I hate you.

Alba [18:39] You love me. Also, no big deal, but we’re going to a match this weekend. VIP passes. My sister’s orders.

Your heart does an unhelpful little flip.

You [18:40] Wait, what? Why?

Alba [18:41] Because she wants to. And because I said you’d never been to a football game. She said that’s a crime.

You stare at the screen, pulse quickening. You weren’t naive. You knew Alba loved to meddle, to push buttons, but this felt… deliberate. Like a door being left slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide if you’d step through it.

You’re still staring at Alba’s last message, heart caught somewhere between excitement and dread, when a small, familiar voice tugs you back to earth.

“Mama, what’s for dinner?”

You turn around to find your daughter standing in the doorway, her curls a wild mess and a crayon clutched in her hand. She’s barefoot, wearing her favourite t-shirt that’s two sizes too big from being washed that many times, and looking up at you with that particular tilt of her head that always makes you want to scoop her up.

And just like that, the daydreams of lingering looks and football stadiums dissolve.

You force a smile, crouching down to her level. “What do you feel like, cariño? Pasta? Sandwiches?”

She considers this, chewing on her lip. “Can we have pancakes?”

It’s not exactly dinner, but who were you to argue? You’d had worse days. “Pancakes it is.” At least she was eating.

As you stand and move toward the pantry, the weight of reality settles back onto your shoulders. Alba’s texts, the supermarket encounter, Alexia’s knowing smile it all feels distant now, like something happening to someone else. Because the truth is, you don’t have time for, whatever that was. You’re a single mother, back to a city that feels too big, trying to make ends meet while keeping life stable for the little girl now sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, flipping through her colouring book.

You can’t entertain dating, you can’t afford to. You don’t have room for tangled emotions or complicated dynamics, not when your focus needs to be here, with her.

As you whisk the pancake batter, your phone buzzes again.

Alba [18:45] Don’t overthink it. Just come. It’ll be fun.

You lock the screen, setting the phone face down on the counter. It’s a nice idea, in theory, but nice ideas don’t pack school lunches or pay rent. You glance down at your daughter, who’s now humming to herself, content in her little world.

This is where you need to be. This is who needs you, still, as you pour batter onto the hot pan, a stubborn little thought creeps in, uninvited, It was just a football match.

Nothing more, you flip the pancake, ignoring the quickened pace of your heartbeat, because nothing could come of this.

Right?

👧🏼

It’s Saturday afternoon, and you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that you’re not going anywhere. The apartment’s a mess, Aurora’s toys are scattered like breadcrumbs across the floor, and you’re still in your oldest sweatpants, hair tied back in a bun that’s barely holding on.

Your phone buzzes again.

Alba [14:03] Be ready to leave in 30.

You sigh, thumbs flying over the screen as you type out the inevitable response.

You [14:04] I told you, Alba. I don’t have childcare. I can’t just drop life to swan off to a football game for a team I don’t even watch.

You barely finish setting the phone down when a loud knock rattles the door. You groan, already knowing who it is.

When you open it, Alba’s standing there, all sunshine and mischief, a duffel slung over her shoulder like she’s about to kidnap you. She doesn’t even wait for an invite before stepping inside, toeing off her shoes.

“Problem solved,” she announces, grinning as she spots Aurora sitting at the coffee table, furiously scribbling into a coloring book.

“Auroraaaa!” Alba sings, crouching down to her level.

Your daughter’s head snaps up, face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Auntie Abba!” she squeals, launching herself into Alba’s arms. She’s the only one who calls Alba “Auntie,” and Alba’s the only one who gets away with calling her Rory. You’ve long given up trying to fight it.

Alba hoists her up effortlessly. “Hey, Rory-bug. I have a very important question for you.” She spins them both in a slow circle, making Aurora giggle. “Would you like to go watch a football match today? Big stadium, lots of people, snacks… and maybe, just maybe meet some cool players?”

Aurora gasps like she’s just been offered a trip to Disneyland. “Can we, Mama? Please?”

You rub your temples. “Alba…”

Alba grins over Aurora’s shoulder. “Childcare? Sorted. She’s coming. You’re coming. This is happening.”

You glance at your daughter, who’s now bouncing excitedly in Alba’s arms, and you feel your resolve crumble. How can you say no to that face? “I don’t even like football,” you mutter, crossing your arms in a weak attempt at resistance.

Alba just smirks. “Lucky for you, it’s not about the football.”

You narrow your eyes at her, but she’s already putting Aurora back to the floor and making a beeline for your closet. “Now come put on something cute. You’re not showing up to the VIP box looking like a sleep-deprived hermit.”

“I am a sleep-deprived hermit.”

“Not today you’re not.”

You sigh, because the truth is, you’re outnumbered and outmaneuvered. As you watch Aurora twirl in the middle of the room, already chattering about “watching the football players kick the ball super far,” you know you’re going, because of course you are.

As you shuffle off toward your bedroom to change, you mutter loud enough for Alba to hear, “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she calls after you. “But you love me for it.”

👧🏼

The stadium is overwhelming.

The sheer scale of it, the noise, the energy, the sea of blue and red it makes you feel like you’ve stepped into a different universe. You tighten your grip on Aurora’s hand, instinctively keeping her close as the crowd surges toward the entrances.

“This is insane,” you mutter under your breath.

Alba’s walking a few paces ahead, looking completely in her element. “It’s match day! This is the city,” she says, turning back with a grin. “Come on, VIP entrance is this way.”

Aurora’s eyes are huge, taking everything in as she skips to keep up with Alba’s longer strides. You catch her murmuring under her breath, “So many people…” as though trying to catalog them all.

Once inside, the chaos gives way to an air of exclusivity. The VIP area feels calmer, more contained, but the buzz of anticipation is still palpable. Alba hands you a lanyard with your pass, then crouches to clip Aurora’s around her neck. The sight of your tiny daughter in a too-big VIP pass is enough to tug a reluctant smile from you.

“You good?” Alba asks, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush seats, the pitch stretching out below you like a perfect painting.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” you reply, shaking your head. You lean down to adjust Aurora’s top, making sure she’s warm enough despite the late afternoon breeze sweeping through the open stadium.

Aurora is practically vibrating in her seat, legs swinging restlessly as she looks around. “Where’s the football players, Mama?”

“They’re in the locker room,” Alba answers before you can. “You’ll see them soon, and they’re gonna look super tiny from here.”

Aurora makes a face at that, as if the idea of tiny footballers is some kind of scam, but she’s soon distracted when the pre-match festivities kick off. Music blares through the speakers, and the crowd erupts in a wave of cheers.

When the players finally emerge from the tunnel, the roar of the stadium is deafening. You spot Alexia instantly, how could you not? She’s at the front, leading the team onto the pitch with that same effortless command she’d had even in the supermarket aisle.

You feel something stir in your chest, but you push it aside.

“Look, Rory,” Alba nudges Aurora, pointing. “See number 11? That’s my sister.”

Aurora’s eyes widen, mouth falling open as she zeroes in on Alexia. “She’s your sister?!”

Alba chuckles. “Yup. Told you she’s cool.”

Aurora is silent for a moment, watching intently as the team lines up for kickoff. Then she tugs on your sleeve. “Mama, Alba’s sister is playing football.”

“I know, cariño,” you say, brushing her curls back. “She’s really good at it isn't she?”

Aurora seems to consider this, then leans back against you, content for now, her small hand slipping into yours. You steal a glance at Alba, who’s watching you with a soft, knowing smile.

The game starts, and despite your earlier protests, you find yourself getting swept up in it. Aurora’s enthusiasm is infectious she cheers when everyone cheers, mimics Alba’s dramatic gasps, and by halftime, she’s fully invested, even if she doesn’t quite understand the rules.

You’re not immune, either. It’s hard not to get caught in the rhythm of it all, the collective heartbeat of thousands of people living the same moments. Every time Alexia touches the ball, the energy seems to shift, and though she doesn’t know you’re even here, you can’t help but feel strangely… connected.

During halftime, Aurora sits on your lap, nibbling on a snack Alba had somehow conjured from nowhere.

“She’s really good at kicking the ball,” Aurora declares between bites.

“She’s had a lot of practice, i'm sure” you reply, smoothing down her top.

Alba leans back with a satisfied grin. “So, tell me again how you don’t like football?”

You shoot her a look. “Don’t start.”

But she just laughs, clearly enjoying herself. “I’m just saying… you look pretty happy right now.”

You don’t bother replying because, annoyingly, she’s right. This wasn’t how you’d pictured your Saturday going. It certainly wasn’t how you’d pictured your life going. But here you are, in a stadium you never thought you’d step foot in, watching a match you never planned to care about, with your daughter curled up in your lap, cheering for Alba’s star sister.

The second half kicks off, and Alexia scores within the first ten minutes. The crowd explodes, and Aurora jumps to her feet, clapping wildly. Alba hoots beside her, and you just sit there for a moment, taking it all in, feeling the ripple of something shift inside you.

You weren’t supposed to be here and yet, here you are and maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

👧🏼

By the time you get home, Aurora’s barely keeping her eyes open, her earlier energy now replaced with a slow, sleepy shuffle as she trails behind you into the apartment. The buzz of the match still lingers in your ears, but the quiet of home is a welcome contrast. You kick off your shoes and drop the keys in the dish by the door with a sigh, glancing over to see Alba already making herself at home in the kitchen, unpacking takeout containers like she owns the place.

“Alright, little one,” you murmur, bending down to unlace Aurora’s trainers. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Aurora hums in agreement, swaying a little on her feet as you peel off her jacket. You guide her toward the bathroom, her tiny fingers curling around yours as you help her wash up, her movements sluggish and unfocused. By the time you’re back in her room, she’s half-asleep, head resting against your shoulder as you pull back the covers.

But as you’re about to tuck her in, she stirs, blinking up at you with stubborn insistence. “Mama… I wanna say goodnight to Abba.”

You smile softly. “Okay, but then straight to bed, deal?”

She nods solemnly, though you’re not entirely sure she’ll remember this conversation in the morning.

You carry her back into the kitchen, where Alba’s in the middle of setting up a little feast of noodles and dumplings. She looks up, and her face softens immediately when she sees Aurora’s sleepy pout.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite person,” Alba says, crouching to Aurora’s level. “You heading off to dreamland, Rory-bug?”

Aurora nods, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Alba’s neck. “G’night, Abba.”

Alba returns the hug with a fond squeeze. “Goodnight, pequeña. Sweet dreams, okay? Dream of scoring the winning goal.”

Aurora giggles sleepily. “Like your sister?”

Alba winks. “Exactly.”

You shake your head with a smile, gently detangling Aurora from Alba’s hold. “Alright, time for bed, kiddo.”

You carry her back to her room, the weight of her small body warm and familiar in your arms. She’s half-asleep again by the time you lay her down, eyes fluttering as you pull the blankets up to her chin.

“Love you, Mama,” she mumbles, voice soft, drowsy.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” you whisper, brushing a kiss to her forehead. You linger for a moment, watching as her breathing evens out, her grip on her stuffed bunny loosening as sleep finally claims her.

When you return to the kitchen, Alba’s already plated the food, one eyebrow arched as she passes you a set of chopsticks. “You’ve got a good one there, you know,” she says, gesturing toward the hallway where Aurora’s room is.

“I know,” you reply quietly, taking a seat. “Be lost without her.”

Alba gives you a look then one of those knowing, annoyingly perceptive glances that makes you feel like you’re being seen a little too clearly, but she doesn’t press. She just nudges a dumpling toward you with a grin.

“Good. Now eat. You’re gonna need your strength if you’re gonna survive this city… and my meddling.”

You snort, but there’s warmth beneath it. For now, at least, life feels manageable. You’ve got a full belly, a safe home, and a daughter who’s already dreaming of football fields.

👧🏼

The morning is a blur of movement, as most mornings are.

You’re crouched by Aurora’s cubby in the nursery, double-checking her things with a precision born of necessity, spare clothes, check; water bottle, check; her favourite bunny plush, check. You smooth down her curls, tucking them behind her ear as she chatters about something one of her little friends said yesterday. You nod along, only half-hearing, your mind already running through the day’s to-do list.

“You good, buggie?” you ask, crouching to meet her eyes.

She grins, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, Mama!”

“Alright.” You press a kiss to her forehead. “Be good, okay?”

She bounds off toward the play area as you straighten up, turning to find Alba leaning against the doorframe, watching with that same infuriatingly smug expression she’s perfected.

“What?” you ask, already wary.

“Nothing,” Alba says, her tone way too casual. “Just… Alexia asked about you after the match.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to Aurora’s cubby, pretending to rearrange items that are already perfectly in place. “Alba, I don’t have time for this.”

Alba pushes off the frame, following you as you move down the hallway toward the staff room. “I’m just saying. She noticed you weren’t in the players’ lounge after the game. Asked why you didn’t come by. I might have mentioned you had other priorities.”

You huff a breath, quickening your pace. “Good. Because I do.”

“She thought that was cute.”

You stop abruptly, spinning on your heel to face her. “Alba.”

She lifts her hands in mock surrender, but the glint in her eyes gives her away. “I’m not matchmaking, I swear. I’m just passing along information. Totally harmless. Just… data sharing.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I have drop-offs, lesson planning, meetings, and a toddler who thinks every puddle is a personal invitation. I don’t have time for this.”

“I know,” Alba says, her tone softer now, though the smile hasn’t faded. “But you’re allowed to exist outside of that, you know. You don’t have to carry the world on your own every second.”

You exhale slowly, the weight of everything pressing down as it always does. “Alba…”

“I’m not asking you to do anything. Neither is she. It’s just…” She shrugs, linking her arm through yours as you start walking again. “You were seen. That’s all.”

You don’t answer. You can’t, not when the idea of being seen feels both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

“Come on,” Alba says gently. “Coffee’s on me. You’re gonna need it.”

You let her pull you along, the morning chaos momentarily dulled by her easy warmth. But somewhere in the back of your mind, Alexia’s name lingers, curling into a space you didn’t realise was waiting for it.

👧🏼

The supermarket feels quieter than usual, maybe it’s the time of day, or maybe it’s just because you’re alone this time. No small hand tugging at yours, no steady stream of questions about what’s for dinner or whether she can ride on the cart. Just you, a half-filled basket on your arm, and the steady rhythm of errands that never quite end.

You knew Aurora was fine more than fine. Monday dinners with your parents had become her favorite routine, a standing date that gave you a few precious hours to breathe, to catch up on chores, or… apparently, to restock on groceries.

You’re debating between two brands of pasta sauce when a voice cuts through the aisle, smooth and familiar.

“Do you always shop like you’re making the most important decision of your life?”

You glance up, heart doing an automatic lurch, to find Alexia standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the shelf with that insufferably charming smirk. She’s in a hoodie and joggers, hair pulled back in a loose bun, but she wears the simplicity with the kind of quiet confidence that you’re sure should be illegal.

“Depends,” you reply, managing a small smile. “Some of us take tomato sauce very seriously.”

“Clearly.” She steps closer, eyes glinting with amusement. “Should I be worried you’ll judge my choices?”

“That depends,” you say, arching a brow. “Are you about to pick up something with ‘three-cheese’ in the name?”

Alexia gasps, mock-offended, hand flying to her chest. “I’ll have you know, my taste is impeccable.”

You hum, unconvinced, turning back to the shelf as if pondering the fate of the pasta aisle rests entirely on your shoulders. But you’re aware of her presence, of the way she falls into step beside you with an ease that makes your nerves spark.

“You come here often?” she teases, bumping her shoulder lightly into yours.

You glance at her, biting back a smile. “Did you really just use a supermarket pick-up line?”

Alexia’s grin only widens, entirely unashamed. “You’re here. I’m here. Feels like fate.”

You snort, shaking your head, but you can’t deny that you’re impressed. Her charm is disarming, her cockiness somehow toeing the line between obnoxious and undeniably magnetic. You’re polite, though, controlled. You have to be. “Well, fate’s about to be disappointed,” you say, holding up your basket. “This is strictly a solo mission. Grocery run, home, dinner. Very glamorous.”

“Solo missions are overrated,” Alexia counters, leaning slightly closer. “What if I offered to be your expert sauce consultant?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you then, shaking your head as you finally settle on a jar and drop it into your basket. “I think I’ll manage. But… thanks for the offer.”

Her eyes flick over you, curiosity sparking beneath the easy flirtation, but she doesn’t push. She just smiles, soft but still cocky, like she’s playing the long game and knows it.

“Alright. I’ll let you get back to your glamorous Monday night,” she says, stepping back with a little salute. “But I’m warning you. I’m very persuasive when it comes to convincing people to switch sauce brands.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, biting back another smile as you move down the aisle.

You feel her watching you for a moment longer before she finally turns away, and it takes more focus than it should to keep walking like your heart isn’t racing a little faster.

You’re unloading the last of your items onto the checkout belt, silently cursing yourself for grabbing so much. Four bags. You hadn’t meant to pick up so much, but somehow the essentials had multiplied, and now your arms were going to pay the price on the walk home.

As the cashier scans items with mechanical efficiency, you feel a presence behind you solid, unmissable. You glance over your shoulder and, of course, there she is, Alexia. Again. “Fancy seeing you here,” she says, voice low, that teasing lilt ever-present.

You huff a quiet laugh, turning back to fish your wallet from your bag. “It’s a supermarket, not a secret club.”

“Still feels like fate,” she says, and you don’t need to look at her to know she’s smirking.

The bags pile up faster than you can keep up with, and you’re already bracing yourself for the awkward juggle ahead when Alexia steps up beside you, completely unbothered.

“I’ll help you with those,” she says, casually reaching for the bags.

“I’m fine,” you protest automatically, though the protest sounds weak even to your own ears.

“Didn’t ask if you were fine,” she replies, effortlessly lifting two of the heaviest bags in one hand, like they weigh nothing more than pillows. “I’m offering.”

You try to interject, to argue because you’re not in the habit of accepting help, but the words get tangled somewhere between your pride and the sight of her calmly slinging the remaining bags over her other arm with zero effort.

“That’s… helpful,” you admit, stepping aside as she takes control of the situation like it was always meant to be this way.

“I’m very useful,” she says, flashing a grin as she starts walking toward the exit, fully expecting you to follow and you do.

Because those bags were heavy, your back was already aching at the thought of the walk home, and, if you’re honest, a part of you is grateful that she didn’t wait for you to say yes, grateful for the quiet confidence that made it seem like no big deal. “I live just a few blocks away,” you say, quickening your steps to keep up with her.

“Perfect,” she replies easily. “I like a good walk.”

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. There’s no smugness in her expression now, just that effortless, steady presence that seems to wrap around her like a second skin.

“I could’ve managed, you know,” you mutter, though your tone lacks conviction.

“I know,” she says simply. “But you don’t always have to.”

And just like that, she’s ahead of you again bags in hand, shoulders relaxed, like this is the most natural thing in the world and for the first time in a long time, you let someone carry the weight for you. Even if it’s just groceries.

The walk to your apartment is shorter than usual or at least, it feels that way with Alexia carrying most of the load, making light conversation that somehow isn’t awkward or forced. You unlock the front door, nudging it open with your shoulder, and gesture for her to step inside.

“Kitchen’s just on the right,” you say, stepping aside.

Alexia moves past you without hesitation, bags still in hand, as though she’s done this a hundred times. The ease of it unsettles you not in a bad way, just unfamiliar. You weren’t used to someone walking into your space and making themselves useful without asking for permission first.

You trail after her, watching as she places the bags onto the kitchen counter, effortlessly shifting into a rhythm as she starts unpacking. You’re a little too aware of how she moves in the small space, how her presence seems to fill it without being overwhelming.

“Nice place,” she comments, glancing around. “Cozy.”

“Thanks,” you reply, moving to start sorting the groceries. It’s easier to focus on the task, to ground yourself in the mundane.

Alexia pulls out a carton of juice, eyes flicking to you with a teasing smile. “Responsible adult purchase. I’m impressed.”

You chuckle under your breath, shaking your head. “What can I say? I live dangerously.”

She’s quiet for a moment, but not in a way that feels uncomfortable. It’s more like she’s studying the space or maybe you, but if she’s looking for signs of a chaotic life or clues to the fact that you juggle more than just a day job, she won’t find them here. The kitchen is clean, neutral, intentionally simple.

“Alright, groceries officially delivered and unpacked,” she says, wiping her hands on her hoodie as if she’s completed some grand mission. “I’m going to claim I’m a very efficient shopping partner.”

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms with a small smile. “You definitely earned MVP status.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” she grins, stepping back toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to your glamorous Monday night.”

Her tone is light, but there’s an edge of something lingering behind her smile like she’s waiting to see if you’ll stop her, invite her to stay. You don’t, because you’re not sure what it would mean if you did.

“Thanks for the help,” you say instead, softer than you intend.

Alexia’s gaze lingers on you for a beat, her smirk easing into something gentler. “Anytime.” And with that, she slips out the door, leaving you standing in the quiet of your kitchen, wondering when exactly she’d gotten under your skin.

👧🏼

The classroom was quiet except for the faint scratch of your pen against paper, the stack of exercise books on your desk seemingly multiplying with every tick of the clock. The day had been long, your focus fraying at the edges, but the work had to get done. You barely noticed the soft knock at the door until a familiar voice followed.

“Knock knock,” Alba sing-songed, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You lifted your head, expecting her usual grin, but your eyes immediately landed on the figure beside her. Alexia.

Her hands were full takeout bags dangling from her fingers and she was eyeing you with that same cocky amusement she always seemed to carry.

“Ale has brought food,” Alba said, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “You hungry?”

Before you could answer, Alexia had already stepped into the room, all effortless confidence as she strolled across the classroom. She didn’t wait for an invitation, didn’t hesitate as she grabbed one of the tiny plastic chairs from a nearby table and dragged it to your desk with a loud scrape that made you wince.

She plopped down onto the chair knees bent awkwardly, but she looked completely at ease and started unpacking the food onto your desk, her movements unhurried and perfectly at home. As if she belonged here, in your space, sharing your dinner break like it was a routine.

“You don’t mind, right?” she asked, though the question was mostly rhetorical. She was already pulling open containers.

You leaned back in your chair, pen still in hand, watching as she opened a box of what smelled suspiciously like your favorite noodles. “I’m starting to see a pattern with you,” you said, eyeing her as she casually took the first bite.

“I like efficiency,” Alexia replied, mouth curving into a smirk. “You need to eat. I had food. Seemed like a win-win.”

You shook your head, exhaling a breath that could have been a laugh, but wasn’t quite. Alba, still leaning in the doorway, was watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement. “I told you she’s a menace,” Alba said, grinning.

“A helpful menace,” Alexia corrected around another bite, eyes flicking to you. “You gonna sit there, or are you going to eat?”

You stared at her for a moment longer, thrown off by how seamlessly she’d inserted herself into your evening, but your stomach betrayed you with a soft, undeniable growl. With a resigned shake of your head, you set your pen down and reached for a pair of chopsticks.

“Fine,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a small smile. “But next time, you don’t get to steal the kid’s chair.”

Alexia only grinned wider, completely unbothered. “I make it look good, though.” And the worst part was. She really did.

You sat back in your chair, chopsticks in hand, watching as Alexia commandeered your desk like it was her personal dining table. The way she carried herself relaxed, confident, entirely unbothered would have been infuriating if it wasn’t also weirdly entertaining.

Alba perched on the edge of a nearby table, arms crossed, watching the two of you like she was waiting for the opening act of her favorite play.

“So, is this a thing with you?” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the impromptu dinner setup. “Do you just barge into people’s classrooms and take over their desks?”

Alexia didn’t miss a beat. “Only when they look like they’re drowning in paperwork and forgetting to eat.”

“That’s very altruistic of you,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Barcelona’s star midfielder, saving teachers one takeout box at a time.”

Her smirk deepened, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was enjoying herself far too much. “You’re welcome.”

You tilted your head, giving her a deliberately unimpressed look as you took a bite of your noodles. “You do realise not everyone’s going to swoon just because you show up with food, right?”

Alba let out a sharp laugh from the side, clearly delighted.

Alexia, however, looked completely unfazed. If anything, she seemed intrigued. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a glint of challenge there, like she was testing new ground. “Good,” she said slowly, leaning back in the too small chair with an infuriating ease. “I don’t like easy.”

You couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped you. “Is that a line you practice often, or is this a special occasion?”

“It’s custom-made,” she replied smoothly, her grin unapologetic. “You’re a tougher audience than most.”

“Maybe you’re just rusty,” you fired back, leaning your elbows on the desk.

Alba, now fully invested, practically choked on her own laughter, but Alexia only seemed more entertained. She picked up another dumpling, holding your gaze across the desk, not flinching. “I’m not rusty. You’re just a good challenge.”

You quirked an eyebrow, meeting her stare without backing down. “You’re not used to people calling you out, are you?”

“Not really,” she admitted, her smile lazy, but her eyes sharp. “But I like it.”

The silence between you was charged, but not uncomfortable. It was like a game, a back and forth neither of you was willing to let the other win just yet. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said finally, sitting back with a satisfied grin of your own.

Alexia pointed her chopsticks at you in mock surrender. “You should. You’re a rarity.”

Alba, still grinning, stood up and clapped her hands together. “God, this is better than I expected. I should’ve brought popcorn.”

You shook your head, turning your attention back to your food, though the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide.

Alexia just kept eating, as if she’d decided this was her favourite seat in the building and somehow, you had the feeling she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

____

Nerves are real for posting this one for some reason, is this something we want to keep going with? 🤔

[revelboo]

Hope you are doing well Revelboo! Could we have more of Rodimus and his human? How is he handling the fact he got basically got flirted with. But his human might just be joking around.

Please I need more of them!

He’s trying to figure out how to respond 🔞

Attractive Today Pt 8

Rodimus x Reader

• “What makes you think that?” He asks out of the blue and he’s been silent so long it takes you a minute to figure out what he’s talking about. Hooking a finger against the neck of your shirt to pull it away from yourself, because as cold as the big bots like it, Rodimus runs hot and seems to be warmer than normal right now. Making you sweat. “That we couldn’t do anything for each other?” He adds when you don’t answer. Is he still teasing about this?

• Knows he should let it go, but he can’t. Likes you, likes humans and now he can’t stop thinking about possibilities. Or replaying the way you’d sounded when you’d whispered that you liked sex to him. Feels you shift on his shoulder as he keeps walking like the answer doesn’t matter to him and he wishes he could see your face. Get a read on your thoughts. “I think you’re missing some crucial equipment if you’re offering to show me a good time.”

• “You think so?” He counters as you lean trying to catch his optic. And he’s reaching to offer you his hand so you can ease yourself into his palm and he smiles lazily, expression flirtatious and so sure of himself you almost laugh. Arching your brows at him, you feel a servo brush your hip. “I don’t know that you could handle my equipment,” he teases and you arch your brows. Curious despite yourself. Are you really discussing alien dick with him? His alien dick? Hopefully it’s a dick not some nightmare alien xenomporph shit with teeth down there. Because aliens.

• “Or maybe you just don’t know what to do with it,” you say making him aggressively clear his vents. “Nobody but you ever handle it?” Taunting him as you flash him a wholly inappropriate grin. Flirting. You’re definitely flirting with him and it’s outrageous. Scandalous. Megatron and Ultra Magnus would likely fry their processors if they found out about this. Making him want to push back and see if you’ll back down first even more. Almost hoping you won’t, because he’s not had any real fun in forever.

• “It’s been handled plenty,” he growls and you swallow a laugh at his indignant expression. Aware of him reaching to open the habsuite door and carry you inside, you hang onto his servos as he eases you down on the berth, giving you a look. ‘By you?’ You ask innocently and flame crackles at his wrists before he gets it under control, frowning at his hands. “This,” he says, gesturing at himself. “Is a high demand, luxury commodity few can afford.” And you are laughing at him now, can’t help yourself. He’s a bit of an idiot, but you like his sense of humor.

Previous

[lovelessdivine]

too sweet. [chance x reader]

SFW Chance x Reader oneshot - Coffee Shop/Bakery AU for AUgust 2025.

Brief alcohol mention. 2.1k words. Crossposted on my ao3.

You were laid off from Valdivian on your first day… Because of an Artificial Intelligence system. If that wasn't some sort of sign from the universe, you don't know what was. It's been a week since your awful first day on the job, and it hasn't gotten any better. You had put in multiple job applications: and the only thing you heard back was more reject emails.

You sat on your couch, cheeks freshly wet with tears, as you downed another vodka seltzer. Today was that interview for a remote customer service job - and they just told you they'll reach back out in two weeks. You were starting to lose hope. Before you could reach for another can in the 18 pack at your feet, you door opens and shuts. In comes Sam - your best friend, who was also the only person that held a key to your home - and she looks at you from the hallway to where you were on the couch. She approaches you, taking a seat beside you on the couch.

Sam knew about how your first day at Valdivian went, considering she was the first person you texted as one of the upper management and a security guard escorted you from your cubicle to the front doors. You had returned some of her texts and calls, but you haven't let her known how your interview went today. She must have been worried of your radio silence if she came all the way here to see you.

"How did today go?" Sam asks the dreaded question. You sigh, feeling your eyes bubble up with more tears.

"They just said, 'We'll reach back out in two weeks.'" You tearfully impersonated the hiring manager, your fingers making quotation marks as you did. Sam lets her hand rest on your shoulder.

"Well hey, it's something, right?" She responds, looking away from you for a few moments. The air is quiet, and you sighed at her comment. Sam wasn't wrong - and she squeezes your shoulder before she speaks again.

"So.. I might have gotten you a job." Her voice was somewhat hesitant.

You look at her incredulously. She continues, her eyes finally meeting yours.

"You remember that one coffee shop downtown, the one with the bakery? It's right next to that game shop you like," She continues, "The owner's name is Kopi. She's been looking around for someone full-time. And when I mentioned you have a BFA in Customer Service and used to work for a bakery, her eyes lit up. She really wants to talk to you about it."

And that's how it started. Lady Luck must have smiled on you, because your whole life had turned around. You went in the next day, dressed your best, and Kopi had offered you a job. Here you are, four weeks into your new job, and you loved it. Coming in early to help bake pastries and muffins, roll out croissant dough, and fry donuts brought out something in you. You had a passing fancy for baking, and even worked in a couple of bakeries in college - you just never thought you would have been able to do it as a full-time job you actually enjoyed.

Even in the short month on the job, you had solidified yourself with your coworkers: Kopi was grateful for your help, especially when you came in overnight one night after a power outage to ensure no product was lost. Dasha often helped you bake in the mornings, and she always made you smile and blush with her talk of finding you a date. Your face and ears would often burn, and you would concentrate more on the pile of dough on the floured prep table as she laughs at your bashfulness. Holly was one of your coworkers - she was happy and jolly as can be, always ready to help, and she knew just about all the regulars by name. She often told you in passing as the two of you prepared their drinks and fished out the occasional donut or pastry from the pastry case.

Penelope, the Valdivian intern that often made coffee runs every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings for her coworkers at the big corporate office two blocks from the coffee shop. The woman - often frazzled, but tipped extremely well - would talk nervously about work and how this was going to be her season to find love.

Jerry came in every morning at 9:15 AM sharp. He was a local museum curator for downtown Coolsville, often happy to excitedly chatter about the new museum exhibits as you made his rather simple order: an almond milk cappuccino to go. Mateo often followed behind him, a friendly face that often chatted with you about the dog shelter north of the coffee shop and his latest foster. You often sent him with a free pup cup with his coffee.

But your favorite regular came from the game shop beside the coffee shop. Chance - your favorite customer, which Dasha knew about to your dismay - often used the upstairs of the shop to host several ongoing G&G sessions when he wasn't working downstairs. He would usually grab drinks and baked goods from the shop before the sessions for his players. What didn't help the situation was the fact you knew Chance in passing, and that the two of you had met in the most cliche way possible.

You had popped over to the game shop after work one day just to check things out. It's been an extremely long time since you've been inside, so you were excited to see how it was looking nowadays. What made you even more ecstatic was that, upon stepping inside, you realized the game shop actually had a fully dedicated area for G&G now. You had made a beeline to that corner of the shop, looking at the various guidebooks with a small smile on your face. It had been years since you touched G&G, but you kept your lucky d20 on your desk at home. You had picked up a guidebook for the latest edition of the game, flipping through it, and decided maybe it was worth the risk of spending money to buy it. After all, it would look perfect in your home office, among all the other guidebooks you've collected.

You turned around to leave, walking towards the counter, until you encountered a warm wall. You didn't fall, thankfully; since you steadied yourself on the nearest table, your two feet kept firmly planted on the ground. Needless to say, the newest figures for that one game, displayed neatly on the table, had gone everywhere. Once you opened your eyes, you realized that warm wall you bumped into wasn't a wall at all: but the broad chest of a worker - Chance, his nametag read. The both of you were saying apologies to one another, and you were squatting down to help pick up the figures with him.

"I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to!" Your voice was small as you placed down the guidebook to pick up boxes. You didn't even dare to look up from where you were on the floor.

"No, you're fine - I bumped into you. I'm sorry." Chance had responded, starting to reorganize the figures back onto the table, merchandising them in a way you didn't quite understand.

You were still on your knees as you handed him the last boxed figure, finally able to meet his eye. This time, he extended his hand to you to help you up. You gripped his hand and he pulled you up to your feet, before he leaned down to grab the G&G guidebook that you left on the ground. His eyebrows subtly raised, and he was seemingly interested in your purchase.

"Oh, you like G&G too?" He asked as he handed you the guidebook, with you looking down at the cover again. Your ears were still burning from the incident, and you gave him a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I.. really do. It's just been a while since I played, and I didn't mean to knock down a whole display to get it." You responded. Chance chuckled, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"It's fine, really - it's not the worse these things have seen anyways." He was referring to the table of figures you just knocked over. You let out a small chuckle, feeling a little better - though, you found yourself putting the guidebook back after your mishap.

And ever since that day, you hadn't gone back into the shop. Once you had recounted the story to Dasha the next morning, half-asleep and painstakingly rolling and layering croissant dough, Dasha had playfully chastised you for not making a move in the moment. It sounds like your past stories of your love life must have gotten her worried, or Dasha was just a hopeless romantic. You preferred the latter.

You were working the front of the house today, making various drinks for the morning rush. It was around 8:30 in the morning, meaning someone from the game shop would be in soon with their order. Parker, Connie, and Chance normally rotated who got the drinks for that week in the mornings. You feel like it was supposed to be Connie this week, and relaxed - until the bell chime alerted you to the fact Chance just walked in.

The coffee shop was oddly empty, mainly because of the rain outside. Chance had approached the counter and his smile got a little wider once he saw you. Despite the incident at the game shop, the two of you would still talk whenever he came in to order - just with the safety of having a whole counter in between you two.

"Good morning, traveler," He greeted you, the silly nicknames were a thing between you two. You started getting to-go cups out and writing names on them.

"Good morning to you too, dear Chronicler," You had finished scribbling on the cups, glancing at him, "The usual?"

"Yeah, just add an espresso shot to mine." You paused briefly at his request.

"Bold." You commented, and you heard his half-asleep chuckle.

"The session went longer than usual, what can I say?" Chance responded, glancing over at the pastry case as you got the drinks made. He usually got half a dozen donuts for the morning shift, sometimes a few chocolate-filled croissants.

You got the four drinks made and tucked into a drink carrier for him. You had walked over to the pastry case, opened it up, and started to pack him some donuts and croissants into a box for him.

"Oh, an extra croissant, please - you can keep it out." He requested, and you complied, tucking the lone croissant into some parchment paper. You brought it all over to where he was standing, scooting it in front of him as you punched in some numbers into the tablet Kopi set up for payments.

"Twenty-one twenty-five." You turned the tablet around for him to use.

He uses the card reader to insert his card, tapping through a couple of payment prompts on the tablet.

"You know, I have an extra spot open for a G&G session. If you want to play, that is." He proposed to you, looking up from the tablet. Your eyes widen in surprise briefly, but you weren't too taken aback by the proposal.

"Wait, really? You want me to play with you?" You asked him, and Chance nods.

"Of course! It would be a lot of fun to have you."

"Even if I'm practically a beginner?"

"The group is open to beginners. We're all an inclusive bunch."

Chance had a good point - and it didn't help that you wanted to get to know him better, too. You smile, handing him his receipt.

"So.. When is it?" You asked.

"Session zero is this Saturday at 2." You two lock eyes momentarily.

You were off Saturdays. You lean against the counter.

"I'll be there. It's next store, right?"

"Yep! I'll be around an hour before to set some things up, if you wanted to stop in early." He reached for the drink carrier. You push the box of pastries and donuts towards him, but he picks the top croissant with his free hand and holds it out towards you.

"You didn't." You reach your hands out to take the parchment covered pastry from him regardless.

"Yeah, I did. It's yours." You almost miss his wink, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

Red-faced, you take the croissant from him. He laughs, grabbing the box from you. He turns around to leave the coffee shop, and you watch him intently as he leaves. You know the exact moment his eyes scan the to-go cups as he walks pass the windows outside, because his expression morphs into one of surprise.

On his cup is your phone number, with a scribbled 'Call me' next to it.

[niconiconi-30]

STRAWBERRIES & CIGARETTES | JJK | ONESHOT

A biker! Jeon Jungkook x model! original female character fanfiction

ღblurb:

He’s Seoul’s most wanted biker—reckless, worshipped, untouchable. She’s the runway’s brightest star—disciplined, desired, untouchable. But some histories refuse to stay buried. In a city that never stops watching, their midnight rendezvous blur the line between love, lust, and self-destruction. Because when the past tastes like smoke and strawberries… How do you pretend it never happened?

ღ relationship: f/m ღ characters: jeon jungkook, OFC ღ genre: romance ღ trope: exes with benefits ღ word count: 11.7k

ღ Tags/warnings: MDNI, toxic relationship, angsty smut, hurt/comfort, second chances?, unresolved feelings, yearning, situationships, miscommunication, they are both the problem(lol), , heavy angst, messy emotions, morally grey, explicit sexual content, they are both switches, passive-agressive, PWP, routh sex, oral sex, fingering, hair pulling, little dirty talk, power play, dom/sub, implied aftercare, etc.

!!this work contains sexual themes that might trigger people, if they are uncomfortable with explicit forms of physical interactions. Kindly refrain from reading!!

ღ also on: ao3

▢note : okay okay. pardon me for any mistakes since this is my first ever smut. for ages, i have read and taken inspo but i am genuinely not sure how much did i accomplice and also since it's my first-there aren't extremely elaborated parts since i am still learning. however, i think this turned out well and also made me horny mid morning- so *smiles awkwardly*.feel free to leave likes, comments, reblogs, asks and requests. All are heartily appreciated and will really make me blissful. please enjoy <3

LIZ

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

attention-charlie puth after hours-the weeknd never be the same-camila cabello one of the girls- the weeknd, JENNIE bathroom-montell fish

Jeon jungkook is an asshole.

Uh, well, not according to the thousands of admirers who ooze their eyes out to fancy him. The people that admire the way he adjusts himself on his Ducati Panigale V4, takes a vainglory to flaunt his masculine haughtiness- a huff of his cigar, sweat slicked hair falling apart from his eyes, and a trademarked half-smirk. Casualty has never played a part in jungkook’s deal with his perspective of life. Call that the perks of being a hotshot biker of the biker’s church club or the mere fact that his male bosom boosts with a ego larger than any other in the arena- again, a hotshot and renowned biker of seoul.

The mania or passion that thrills the people is not just the way he slides his gloved fingers over the throttle or the way the machine responds to him, growling and roaring to take off any moment. And before he does? There’s that signature posture of helmet tucked under one arm, sleeves of his leather jacket rolled just enough to expose the infamous clocked tattoo, as if perfect timing ever had a lot on him. Pftt.

So when he takes off, engine thumping, wind tearing off the entire wilderness and the feral sound making a whoosh and a whir, the people cheer louder- flags and banners gets higher and higher by the same amount as jungkook rides, higher up touching the sky or his tires kissing the winning line. And there’s a designated level of adrenaline and fury that comes with winning almost everything. Jeon jungkook knows so better.

To south korea, jeon jungkook is an enigma. A gold plated recklessness. You can label all sorts of appellation to define jeon jungkook. Biker’s church club’s golden boy? Yes. Reckless and wild? Yes. Charming and fuckable? Yes. A fuckboy? Double yes.

The kind of nuisance that harbingers a massive trouble. The type of boy your mothers warn you to stay aloof of and the therapist begs you to forget.  It is not his ideal fault to have a face that captivating or money that massive, gold rolled cigars and pumped bodies- nope, no steroids. Ages of torturing to look ideal. He has got a suit face, a beautiful aggression with a sharp jaw and brooding eyes. Talking sweet, working skillfully with fingers and trapping you into a labyrinth- he knows it well. Too well.

Now, he is an asshole. Just not a manipulative asshole. He lets woman come close in after-party rooms, hallway bathrooms or sometimes, his penthouse. He’s honest in the most brutal way. He will let you know his intentions that you will be ghosted soon. No promises or stupid ‘I love you’s’ if you assume that the way he held you meant something, that’s on you. Not him. Never him.

He loudly informs that he is a fuckboy who takes his vanilla time to fuck and then leave. Within you lies the decision at the other end.

Jeon jungkook is everywhere- like wildfire, like the moon seen by every star. A little dark, grayish all around adorned with gazillions of stars. In paper, in magazines, in shoots and in every other instagram reel that covers his reputation, scandals and all that media frenzy.

And maybe that’s what brasses off Eva Lee.

And to her, he is forever an asshole.

If jeon jungkook, to the world, is a fantasy, to eva lee, he is the worst kind of reality that was once hers.

An asshole who once was her boyfriend. Her fuck-buddy now.

Not really a buddy either. A person she messes with. A man, who she lets her to touched by, squeezed and gripped and teetered- all that filthy sorts.

It is so miserably twisted that way their relationship has transcended now. So fucking laughable. And to think, they were once each other’s ride or die.

Eva remembers the time, some four years back from the present.

It was the biker’s church’s after party. A party for some recent victory, a collective wins in a series of races between countries. For years, several racing clubs participates and aspires to win the final trophy. That year, it was in the hands of that club. The shining armor shaped like a wine glass- sparkling and glinting when light fell, decorated with fine carvings of diamonds, or rubies.

Eva had no impetus to attend the party. She was busy, signing off interview agreements, her schedule packing up vigorously while also keeping updates on her recent shoots going fervid. Her modeling career had just taken a stake- high level shit and scandalous news every day. Those flashlights and glam that clicked within the time she walked with her heels off through the red carpet.

Maybe only heavens knew how hard it was once, trying to nuzzle into the fashion industry- looking up to models, the way their cheeks flared and legs shone and how within the concurred sex appeal did they strike the hearts of all people around.

To be a model was not eva’s childhood dream, well merely a thought. By the age of 13, eva was certain she was required to follow her businessman father’s heavy footsteps and land onto the periphery of stock markets and spreadsheets.

But teenage confused the little dreaming girl. Reading became an addictive habit and when she flipped across cosmos and vogue magazines, more and more stars sprinkled upon those young eyes. In Paris, an old issue of vogue Italia infuriated her, the cover- this stark, with a woman unsmiling, no soft filter or glitter but a illusion of a storm within. The face was blunt- no expressions but little eva’s mind and heart expressed too much.

It was a harmless obsession-quietly at first. Campaigns were like textbooks and the models- were like angels, beautiful and bold. So eva was a little zealous all over trying to create a world which was far away from her upbringing.

She grew up n what most people would call privilege. Gold-threaded life. Father , a respectable and brooding businessman and mother, a lawyer. So you could imagine the power and command. She had drivers running, waiters serving, a summer house by the sea, and holidays in places with languages she couldn’t speak. She was lucky, true, but also was not oblivious. She learnt comfort does not shield one from struggle. It only changes the kind of struggle one faces.

It started with booking informal test shoots with photographers. Parents warned, tried diverting the young mind but it all stood unswervingly. Portfolios, castings and rejections were the initial steps to embark and of course being daddy’s little princess didn’t help. Not when the said dad had issues with her daughter chasing a dream different from what he wanted. So she had to started off individually- minimalist skincare brand. Lens flashed and so did her confidence. And when the indo- Italian photographer praised her eyes as inquisitive and that her body language had the effluent lust to beguile people, eva had been anything but skeptic. So now, eva lee was indeed to be model. A A-fucking-star model.

There was something beneath all that idea of lavishness that eva wanted to profit with. The extravagancy of everything. Pools of fame and luzury, wrapped only when she would attempt to ramp in front of millions. And that’s what she had achieved, slowly and articulately, to reach the peak.

It’s scrupulous to identify her in billboards that hung over the night skies, people everywhere wishing and chanting and howling out her names when she passed. It amazed her initially when everyone wanted to get her name, surreal and shocking. But then she prepared herself.

Now, does she like the fame? Yes, actually.

That’s not a humble answer people would like to hear. But that’s true. So predictably true. People cheering, photographs and everything. There was a thrill that lay with becoming a celebrity star after all that desire.

She needed the world to see her but more importantly, needed to show what she saw, and how that could look through her.

And by now, she was too busy to attend some fancy party with bikers, cigarettes and diesel. Will ripe the allure of softness she had built. But oh, she was also asked to make harmless scandels to stay trendy. She, like any other models, by now understood the fashion world where only beauty doesn’t prevail in the long run. You need headlines, some bold statements and tons of outrageous “unintentional” caught ups in public.

So she had to go, appear and smile.

The music in the club’s basement thumped through the bones, a deep bass line flowed. A elite private party with handpicked guests. A-list crowd mixing motor oil scent and expensive perfume. A blend of whiskey, leather jackets and red heels.

Eva entered with a sip of boredom behind her glossed lips. The venue was not particularly different from any other elite after parties she had ghosted in and out of.

Eva nodded at a few people she vaguely recognized from other press tables and runaways. She hugged few, puckered some kisses in the air. The party buzzed with chaos where everyone was talking too fast and moved too hastily. Music blared and quests suffused. It was exhausting and she wasn’t even twenty minutes in.

Her tequila stayed barren as she hung her head a little low, a little out of the sight in a small scoop.

From where she sat, she could identify people, who sometimes looked in her direction and had eyes of surprised recognition. She did not wish to be unnecessarily rude. So a half smile could pass.

Her eyes had barely halted to rest, and noises increased like a parsed mayhem. She could hear the faintest of a laugh or maybe two. Someone was laughing, someone just made out. Someone complaining or someone saying something like a faint- ‘ride or die baby, ride or die’ followed by a clink of the owner’s tongue. It sounded sultry, so hoarse and abrasive.

She followed the bearer of the sound. Someone tall, broad shouldered and near the far corner of the room, one arm slung around someone’s shoulders- some girl, tall and modelesque, lips parted In obvious amusement. The man had his head tilted low, whispering something in the blonde’s ear and under all that dim red and blue disco haze, eva could witness a cocky glint in his half-lidded eyes, the playful sneer at the corner of his mouth.

Eva found herself staring- black on black, plain shirt and leather jacket. Beautiful in an un conventional way- sharp jawline, nose a little crooked in the centre, a small noticeable scar and some inked artwork that eva couldn’t properly pencil but can imagine. Eva wondered wat is it like to stay so free and confident. She couldn’t really. She had to built a image that she was something intangible like a talisman. So what did this man have in him to bare everything and still be so abstruse and creditable?

She didn’t know his name. not yet. But-god help her-she was curious.

Curious in the way he drank his drink, neck titling back, jaw catching the pulse of neon light, a few strands that he swept off carelessly. His lips curled around the rim of the glass and hand flexed when he set it down. He was talking, some hush and a shush, she couldn’t decipher. His fingers played with the silver rings on his fingers, thumb dragging absentmindedly across metal like it was a muscle memory. He leaned to speak to someone on his left, some other guy, and equally hot but less intimidating, atleast to eva. He chuckled a little at their conversation. The blonde on the other side looked lazily amused, not that eva blamed her, and she received a grin from the same man.

Eva kept watching those half grins like a movie scene. Imagining if she got that grin, If he looked at her the way he looked at the girl, his cologne brushing against her skin. Maybe something woody and expensive. If those fingers, that now played and twisted his rings would skim the curve of her arm in passing or tuck a few strands of her hair while kissing, soft or no-rough, commanding. His hands on her waist, his chest against her.

The music changed, turned into some metallic chorus with verses too loud, trenching eva away from some wild dreams. She blinked.

God. What was she doing?

Was that the knocking of some deep sleep that made her think like this or that maybe, she was, too needy of something. Either way, she was a celebrity who in mind had to direct her thoughts and keep them sober.

Nope, not a teenager in a club imagining strangers with mouths and scars. She chewed her cheeks, letting out a huff.

She took one last turn to notice if he was there. But her lips turned a little down, just a little. No more. He was gone, whoever he was. It was nice though, alluring but exciting to see a person sculptured so methodically.

Eva shook her head once, hard, almost like she was physically trying to dislodge the thought of some guy.

She turned, heels clacking, making soft excuse me to go out and head to the terrace. On the road, people are bound to recognize her and inside, she would be caught staring at a mere intruder. Not the best thing.

Up on the club’s terrace, the air was cooler. The music thumped faintly behind the walls. She leaned on the railing, one arm folded under the other, smoking a cigar.

From up here, Seoul glittered like it was alive, breathing.

“So, on a rate of 1-10, how intimidating is my face?” a voice spoke. Rough, abrasive- Wait a minute. Fuck.

“And you asking, why?” eva mumbled. Another huff.

“Figured, if one stares a little too long, they are either remembering where they saw me or…they are judging me” he came to stand beside eva.

“I wasn’t doing either”

“sure, I know I can be hot. Thought I was imagining but it was too long, man, thankyou pretty girl” his said snickering. Eva felt him staring at her, quite openly and so now he for sure was judging.

“you think highly of yourself” she let out a dry laugh.

“comes with the job” he replied “you would be cocky too If people photographed your bike more than your face”

“that your personality?” eva glanced at the keys, shiny and clipped to his belt loop.

He grinned “only the least complicated part of riding”

“-bikes?” that is a very odd thing to say.

He frowned slightly, letting out an almost amused smile “among other things”

Up close, he looked charming, almost flawless except for the scar which was really a suitable accessory adorned on his pretty face. The stubble around his jaw was intentional. And some eye-catching piercings, one on his bottom lip, another on his brows and a lot, lot more. The leather jacket now hung from one shoulder, smell full of cigarette and drinks and some…blonde. Not that eva gave a fuck.

“so” the said man speaks “what are you doing here, hiding?”

“I am not hiding?” eva spoke, hair flowing, hitting her cheeks.

He looked for a second then forwarded his hand to almost snatch the cigar away from eva and on his lips. “sure looked like it”

“I needed air”

He tilted his head,eyes skimming her profile, “fair”

Eva gave a side-eye “do you make it a habit, talking to woman you catch staring at you?”

“well” he scrunched his nose “depends, if I am interested”

“and are you interested?”

He shook his head once, “no reason to not be interested in the eva lee”

Eva’s brows twitched just a little “so, you know me”

“who doesn’t?” he let out an obvious smile. Eva shrugged, taking her cigar back “so what now? You follow me out here to get my number?”

“I followed you because heavens forbid, I am awe-struck by thy beauty, m’lady” tattoo man emphasized and it took a second for eva to realize he was being sarcastic. He stopped laughing, realizing that was random. He coughed a little.

“you’re funny, because of course I am interested in you, and not even subtle. But yes, you are funny”

“you are weird”

“that I am. People say so.” His lips flickered “ Plus I thought you can favor my company.”

Eva looked at him.

“the number part is optional” he concludes.

“you always talk like this?” she asked, now a little more curious than before.

He raised his elbows. “only when I mean it”

“nah, you probably pull out these corny lines to every other lady” she shook her head, stabbing the cigar on the rooftop railing.

“that bothers you?” he asked and as an afterthought “m’lady?”

“you’re cocky” she remarked and he played along “you are beautiful”

“okay, who the hell are you?”

That made him stop bickering like earlier. He sat silent, for a second, maybe contemplating. As much as eva wanted this mystery man be gone, she couldn’t help asking who he is that has taken her precious curiosity.

“okay, I get it, you ar-“ “jungkook. Jeon jungkook” he murmured.

“never heard” eva replied and jungkook just snorted.

The neon lights behind them blinked in sync. Neon shadows ran across their faces. Pink, blue, bussing and flashy.

“I still don’t get why you…here” eva looked at him “you wanna get laid becau-“

“I don’t do that with women who have already made up their minds about me” he said casually.

She tilted her head, half-chuckling “and what do you think I have decided?”

Jungkook gave a very small smirk, all that troubling and looked directly into her eyes. So bold, so desparate. Eva had never felt more conflicted.

“that you’re going to fall In love with me anyway, so why rush it?”

Oh, jeon-fucking-jungkook.

A bump on her car ride halts her thoughts that she would rather burn. Eva let out a long, slow breath as the night city swamped past her car windows- seoul’s night life. Always glowing, like a fever dream. It rained in the morning, and the weather is still wet and peachy.

Her fingers were tightened around the steering wheel. Her phone, silent, and kept on the cup holder was used too many times a little before. It glowed with messages eva wished she didn’t go through.

Jungkook: I’ll come around 9 pm. No denials. Last time, it was urs.

There was nothing surprising in this. This was their usual routine, unwritten but understood. Days picked out like cold appointments, when they fucked and didn’t talk unless they It was something knotty.

However, today has been a hectic day for eva. Fresh with meeting some Spanish sponsors to invest in her newly flourishing fashion brand and following to meet some interviews. A public press meet, some nagging guests, a two or three deals and what not. She was exhausted.  The awful and untimely rain was nothing helpful either, only patched her timings. She has three emails flagged urgent, a 9A.M. shoot call first thing tomorrow and ofcourse, the presence of a persistent tightness in her lower back from standing on heels for four hours. She has been looking upto a warm bath, an exfoliating scrub, microwave soup and a bit of any show to feel normal again.

Instead, she is driving, presently, through the city. Low hum of tires on asphalts, heading towards her private penthouse suite she swears not to go every time.

She has called him before; listing her issues and that, by no means today was a good day. But jungkook has a big ego, bigger than the toned chest he has made, that made him pick up the last time they had sex which was her call, not his. A week ago. And he didn’t refuse instead helped her strip off herself from her black lacy dress and then grazed his teeth, nipping her collarbone, sweetly. And so, this was his turn to get back what he showered.

Now, jungkook isn’t to blame completely. Eva could have sternly said a “no”, cut the call- block and all that if she wanted to. It is not like they are children trying to sneak out to do nasty things but mere adults who should respect a boundary.

But did she call him, daring a challenge that she cannot, at all given her circumstances meet and have sex? No.

Because everything involving jungkook has always been a labyrinth of confusion and betrayals to her own heart.

Her brain hisses at her to turn the wheel the other way. Go home, be smart and powerful. Have the upper hand. But her hands stay steady, traitorous and stubborn.

She tells herself it is all about being fair. That he was calling the shots tonight because she has had the last time. She omits the part where she will very likely love to have him hover over her, low breaths and sounds of intentional whimpers that drive her crazy. Only about being fair. Only.

The lights blur past. She barely notices the city anymore. Her head spirals with the echo of the night they first met- ride or die, baby. Ride or die. How she wishes they didn’t meet that day, his laugh and all that weirdness. How he said her name like it was some secret he was not supposed to know.

It was the beginning, a beautiful beginning that at one point felt like a vibrant future but things, when it comes to love, just don’t dribble smoothly.

Now it is complicated, and twisted. It is her knees hitting the back of a leather couch or her voice biting out a warning to leave after or his back retreating towards the bathroom while she stares at the ceiling, mind blank and full of guilt.

She turned left, parking in her usual spot when she enters the gates of her penthouse. Her hands grip the wheel, as she hopes maybe if she sits still, time will reverse. She will be in her actual house, warm rice and sandalwood perfume and not this version of herself.

In the elevator, she can see her reflection in the transparency of the walls- a woman in a structured blazer, lips still lined perfectly and eyes rimming in a tired kind of black.

She has no reason to be pissed off at jungkook. If anything, she needs to hates herself- unlove this place and her and forget jeon jungkook ever existed.

Eva steps in, pressing the code to the penthouse.

Jungkook has called and she hated it. Hates him.

But she is here, In body and soul, isn’t she?

Again and again.

The front door clicks shut behind her.

Eva steps out of her heels first. The sharp clack of them hits the marble, echoing too loudly. Her penthouse is dimly lit, washed in the golden glow of the city. The scent, notes of lavender with a tinge of rose petals, expensive and sultry, mixes with a hint of black orchid.

The walls were a deep, moody gray, and smooth concrete framed by shadowy beige and golden accents. There is a floor-to-ceiling window that bore out over the city. The Han River could be seen flowing, gently, unbothered of the turmoil elsewhere. The living room was low-lit, amber lights and smoky crystal sconces. One or two separated couches, a fancy dining table, a plush cream sectional curve in the middle of the space, and a sleek untouched fireplace. No tv. Not a place for entertainment.

A open kitchen rests at a side with a fridge that probably consist of everything rotten. A lot of wine- deep red and chilled whites, lined up like sacred lovers in waiting. Coffee table, a meaningless book shelf.

And her bedroom- the heart of it all.

King sized bed resting low to the floor, drapes in deep cream sheets and an unreasonably soft gray duvet. Minimal pillows and displaced cushions.

A big stony bathroom with mirrors and a tub that can fit two. Steam that clings to the glass. Nothing extravagant-some soap, towels, or maybe someone’s ring that was left in a hurry and never got out of it.

This penthouse was not a home. Just a bearer of her own sins she repeatedly prayed not to commit. The sin is not cheating- hell, she is not married and neither is cheating, just only coming back to someone who is not hers. How pathetic. How pathetic eva.

Only if the media knew this, the people that look upon her knew this- but lust does blasphemy and sometimes, the high takes you to things you cannot return from.

Eva still thinks back to the day they thought of this ironic deal- no strings attached, fucking your ex-boyfriend. Shameful. So shameful.

The day was 9 months ago.

Some months after their break-up.

The post break up part was not even about healing. It was about some lingering attachments that refused to wither just so easily. Like signs- stupid signs- that the universe kept placing in eva’s path just to mock her.

Maybe a playlist they once shared, a leather jacket that looked like his, sometimes a scent- smoky vetiver and pepper, reminding her things.

And sometimes, the feverish and vivid dreams. Not even the soft, romantic ones where he kissed her like she was his whole world. No, those were forgivable.

But the ones where they fought. Where she screamed at him for leaving and he just stood there-silent, beautiful, infuriating-until she woke up gasping for air, with nothing but silence and sweat in her sheets.

And now people would think the poised and elegant eva lee was mistreated, and her feelings were tawdry against jungkook’s counterfeited ones.

However, she initiated the break-up. And now people would ask why? And she would not answer.

Shit was, really, fucking, complicated.

They had tried to be civil post break-up. Tried to pretend they could run into each other at events and keep things polite. Nothing was ever, really, graceful anyway. It was clear- there was loathing and disdain all over.

It had been six months that they had broken up. Done with each other and long passed the naivety of feeding delusions. Eva believed jungkook didn’t really care about how fucked up they were or that anything about the break up had affected him or not.

Hell, she didn’t see him around for 3 months now- as if he disappeared, quite suddenly, in the thin air. Like a memory that had erased itself.

A person can deny feelings. Can deny how their heart can thump and flip. Can control emotions if needed. But hunger? Lust? That has to be one of the sickest sins of the seven that are there.

So when jungkook and eva meet, once again, under critical circumstances at some auction party, it was too poignant and obscure to ignore the need to just come undone against each other.

A lot of things happened that night. Like when jungkook took a step further to kiss eva, she didn’t refuse.

When eva pulled him evn closer, tugging at jungkook’s buttons, he let her.

Or when in some unknown place that they moaned and whimpered, they let themselves be- for one night. They said- one night. Sure.

But jungkook was not a ephemeral drug. He was like a ever consuming one- like nicotine or all those sorts.

And eva, beautiful eva, was everything that jungkook wanted. Every single thing about eva.

That changed into an unspoken routine and when they were released of those hormones did they acknowledge these obsession they had got with each other. But it was too late.

So that was it then, a kiss- then nakedness and a lot of noises that they shouldn’t be appealed to.

The door clicked. Past memories stand in past tense.

And just like all other days that had been spent here, in a morbid secrecy, once again, there would be one- filled with everything but love.

“nice to see you knock” eva mumbled dryly, sipping her drink.

Jungkook walked in, unbothered, dressed in shades of black and grey. As the hell knows, jungkook is a horrendous kind of appeal, and so when he has the black translucent mesh top underneath that revealed his toned chest contours, it looks like it is deliberately worn. And somehow to contrast the bold cloth, he has put on some structured oversized blazer.

He looks like he came hurriedly from something formal- hair layered and jelled, a two or three locks falling. And if that’s not everything that commands- “come, fuck me”, then eva doesn’t know what is.

“you didn’t answer the doorbell last time” he says, shrugging as he tossed the keys of his car on the kitchen table and then helped himself retrieve a bottle from the fridge. Yes, a cotes du Rhône. Classic jeon jungkook.

“that’s a cue that I wasn’t in the mood for visitors” her jaw clenches a little.

“but I am not a visitor, am i?” jungkook smirks.

Eva gets up slowly, the cut of the navi blue sundress reveals her bare thigh just a little.

She takes some step, a small breathe and jungkook’s eyes wavered. Always amused by her tactics.

Her nose scrunches timidly, “where did you come from?”

“a board meeting, why?” he muses.

“no, thought I got a scent of some women’s perfume” she mumbles walking close to him. “must be nice, to get laid two times, you’re a pro” she smiles. Eva has got a thing with playing stupid games she is going to regret later.

“ah, there she goes, accusing me” jungkook snorts putting down his wine. “and who, god forbid, would tell her she is fucking some A-class actor in paris and getting caught on balconies with” he states flatly, voice like smoke and worn leather. “must be nice. To be publicly adored”

Oh. Right. Some actor. She almost has forgotten. Jungkook always reminds her of things she will try her best to omit.

Eva laughs, a cruel and sexy sound. “jeon jungkook, are you jealous?”

He takes a step close, chest touching one another’s “not at all, just surprised you have lowered your standards”

She narrows her eyes “says the man who had a brunette in his bed last weekend. Pftt. Was stalking your club mates”

“well, she talked less, sucked better” jungkook chews his teeth, leaning closer.

“better, as in-better than me?”eva licks her tongue.

Eva was not sure what she was playing at. Only that jungkook looked so fucking bang-able, if that’s even a word. And suddenly all her remorse went down the lane.

Jungkook brings his face close to her ear, lips brushing “atleast she didn’t  pretend she hated me while dripping down my fingers”

Eva’s jaw tightened. But losing to jungkook? Never.

“that’s because she wasn’t important enough to hate. Sucks” jungkook stills because maybe, that cuts.

They don’t flinch. Neither ever does. Love was off the table.

Jungkook’s tongue ran over his teeth. God, she was infuriating. Annoyingly infuriating.

He grabs her by the waist, harsh. He tilts his head ever so slightly, muscles underneath his jaw twitching very lightly. “keep talking like that” he mutters leaning close to nibble softly on eva’s lower lip “and I will fuck you so fucking hard you won’t be able to find a solid excuse to give your fuck ass Parisian boyfriend when you go to him with your stuck up little conscience limping and wearing nothing but the scent of me, eva lee.”

What that enough to turn on a 29 year old woman soaking wet?

Eva grabs jungkook’s blazer around the collar, pulling him in for a long and eager kiss. He deepens the kiss almost immediately and pushed his tongue into her mouth, eliciting a moan.

It doesn’t take a second before a metallic glint gets twisted along with his tongue on hers. A piercing. A tongue piercing. Eva feels she may lose the last thread of control any time soon.

Jungkook pushes eva down the sectioned couch, the blinds are turned to not please the outside people of this heinous act inside.

Eva’s posture lay barren on the couch, the blue dress caressing a minimal of her thighs while also revealing the lacy garment underneath.

She could hear the clattering of metal as he discards his belt, almost equally hungry. However, eva can notice a slight of unusual urgency in jungkook’s actions as if he has no extra time but to devour eva as soon as possible. Hungry and needy. Good for her.

He advances, hovering over her, removing all the messy shreds of her hair as if they play a taunting game of teasing the already frustrated boy.

One hand under her head on the couch, jungkook’s fingers slowly move to the lining of the underwear, helping her undress. Her soaked core clenches but she won’t really admit that. That is jungkook’s work to find out how and where to pleasure her.

She adjusts herself looking down where jungkook has put the underwear to the side, dangling around her knees. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, jungkook caresses her clenched entrance.

He nibbles the side of her lobe, smirking on noticing how her muscles tighten and he is very much the teaser. “so eager for me, pretty girl?”

Eva rolls her eyes, upholding her eye level just to meet his “just fuck me already, we both know there’s not much time”

“true” he says, moving his eyes. Eva grows a little confused. What’s up with him today? Probably not because he is not in the mood else he wouldn’t have called.

His fingers line towards the core, fingers that want to be filled in, all white and smooth. Eva’s chest heaves as she clears her throat, her hand moving towards her bosom, trying to feel every bit of it. He moves his hands, deliberate and urgent, the raspy and lewd sounds of wetness accompanying her gravelly moans.

Now, eva can fuck whoever the hell she likes, and they can make her feel just as satisfied but jungkook, he has the power to throw her to the gates or nirvana and that, she will admit, is just his excellent fingering skills and not how much he eager she gets for him.

Her eyes are shut, lips trembling as jungkook’s fingers, now two, inside her moves with equal intense. She is about to come undone, the urgency helping her release every frustration of the day. The little ridge, like the perfect g-spot, has been only used by him and him alike, like he knows every other inch that has to be perfectly cradled with to help her. There, there, just there. Don’t stop, just like that, yes. Please.

Even the weather growls once, as if the weather is playing its part to come undone too, pouring its own relaxation in the form of cold and dull raindrops.

The movements stop.

Eva’s eyes shut open. Glaring.

Jungkook grins “needed a drink”

What the fuck?

He gets up, huffing and fixes his air. He tosses his blazer somewhere eva is too annoyed to notice.

“what’s wrong with you?” she coos, throwing her head back on the ccouch.

“I love watching you getting the frustration I get every time I see your legs on the covers”

“and jeon jungkook is all about being jealous today” eva says, grabbing the wine bottle.

Jungkook gulps down the sip, eyeing eva once and then walking to the window that stands viewing the Han River. Yes, jeon jungkook is out of place and acting odd today.

Eva lies blinking a little too many times then mixes her dress, “I’ll be….in the bedroom” he says.

Eva stands in front of the mirror in their master bedroom, caressing herself, touching and wondering how long will it take for jungkook’s hands to replace hers. Impatient, wanting.

As if on cue, jungkook enters the room, noticing eva. He comes behind, placing a small smooch on her shoulder. Eyes up, he trails his tongue along the nape of her neck, letting out a small gasp from eva. His hands move to remove the lacy sundress down to her waist, squeezing her breasts as If he has the perfectly curved hands to fondle with them.

Eva moves ahead, turning around, holding his forearm. She lowers herself down the carpeted floor and unbuttons the bottoms of his jeans. Jungkook only admires, his hands around the fluff of her hair.

She palms his rigid bulge through his clothing. He watches her fingers caress his cock, biting her lips trying to stifle her amusement.

Wrapping her fingers around it, her tongue slides out of her mouth and licks a stroke up to the top of it. Those smudged eyes of her looking up ever so innocently.

Jungkook can forever carve this view. Even ink it if it was respectfully possible.

At this time, she looked so fucking pornographic. So eager, desperate. And jungkook has no issues getting teased and played.

Eva takes him into her wet mouth, sucking hard, hollowing her cheeks. She feels him throb, let out a grunt and it satisfies her. It’s not every day the jeon jungkook gets to be this undone by woman. She will like to think it’s only her attempt to make him feel. Her possession.

She pushes her hair out of her face and jungkook gathers her hair tighter thrusting himself against her, making her move herself in sync with his own throbbing.

She removes it out of her mouth, only the tip of her tongue touching his. Taunting and explicitly making him annoyed. Foreplay is all about teasing and letting out reactions even though both are going to fuck hard just a little later, right?

She knows jungkook is frustrated and she moves back, still kneeling.

Frustrating him.

“asshole” she mutters.

Jungkook kneels himself, hands till tightened around her silky hair. He kisses her hard, lips twisting and playing and then helps her stand up, almost throwing on the bed.

“on the bed, bra off” he orders climbing himself as well.

Her back is against the headboard, while he closes the distance as his tongue finds her nipple, serpentine against the hardened core and sucking them as long as he wants. Eva knows she will end up writhing having his tongue flicker all over, making her wet and filthy but that does not matter not when she could feel his pre-cum leaking, and the idea of her being all used up, in good ways, by jungkook makes her insatiable.

As much as jungkook wants to play it coy or look all nonchalant about not wanting to nibble each part of her, he has long around been patient.

Jungkook’s elbows rest on either side of eva’s head, all tangled with her soft hair. His nose nuzzles with hers, lips plucking on her cheeks. The clink of a silver chain dangles detached from his neck, and to where her chin meets his bare torso. Eva’s lips waver to hold the chain, creating a distraction and tug at it. Jungkook believes she is going to be the death of his.

Watching eva bite her lips, so red and plum, as her hands tighten around jungkook’s bare back, looking every bit the celestial angel that has come tonight to be worshipped by him. To hell with patience.

“you look so fucking gorgeous” jungkook hums against her breast, lips trailing down to reach the abdominal layer.

Her legs clench which makes him frown. He pressed her legs apart, where her hole lies-wet and liquefied to the extreme that jungkook wants to have every bit the taste-always has.

“that” he points to the wetness “is all mine”

Lowering himself, his shoulder squelching as his tongue licks across the top of her clit. When he hears her moan, that he looks up with only his eyes- “like that?”

When eva gives no dissatisfaction, jungkook continues, head buried deep as he licks up and down, helping you lose in the ecstasy.

Eva is leaking around his fingers as he spreads her even more. He moves his fingers too, near the entrance of her hole with his tongue parching the clenches parts of her clit. There’s no dignity in the way he will leave you tethering.

“so sweet, so fucking sweet” he muses, his own tongue filled with the warmth of the creamy liquid. He gathers the creamy slick.

“don’t sto-fuck” eva mumbles, head leaning back, holding onto the ivory sheets, that lay wrinkled.

He moves up, grabbing her hand to move back. Her bare back on display for him to play however the fuck he wants.

“bend over, pretty girl” and eva follows, wanting to be ordered. To be so submissive that she will forget there was ever a side that wants to dominate him to.

The tip of his cock nudges slowly and gently at first, the hole spreading by the coarseness of the shaft. Eva curses, her neck sweat and nails pinning against the headboard. He pushes himself, once or twice and then repeatedly. His hips picking up pace, molded with her throaty moans.

One hand on her ass, jungkook’s fingers tangle around her hair, that smells so addictive jungkook has lost himself. He pulls her arched back, maintaining his pace. She lets out whimpers of pleasure as jungkook hands get a grip of her neck, almost choking her.

His teeth graze her neck, nibbling enough to leave purple bruises. Then her little boyfriend would question and jungkook will be so, so proud. “tell me, does he make you feel like this, hmm?” he mewls, his body clammy against her.

She can barely form words, her own lips smudged and eyeliner dripping down.

“n-no” she shutters, feeling him thrust hard and sloppily.

“properly. Does he? Has he? Will he?” he practically growls, hand clasping her throat as her hands find the need to capture his hand, wanting to make him stop and go harder simultaneously.

“you. Only you” she moans and that fuels jungkook. He will like to go deeper and fuck her so sweetly, that she will forget every other man that have had the ability to fuck her pretty cunt.

“good”

Her lips find his as he controls his pace, now a little gentle but still making her writhe.

He throws her over again, bending her against him, breaking apart their contact. He looks dangerously sweaty, his fingers dripping with all her sweetness. The thing made by him, only for him.

Eva grows impatient, so eager to cum that all sense of morality has ceased to exist. She crawls to jungkook, grabbing the side of his neck and kiss. Jungkook hisses when she bits his lip, almost as hard for the blood to ooze out. He grabs her gently, even though her sudden dominance has left him bruised with his ego.

Eva grazes his wrist, pulling close, smiling ever so evil- a mastered smile to pull out for every model shoot. Seduction is a thing eva has learnt, thought it will not be needed for jungkook but she has a knack to play with death and danger, the sole reason as to why she chose jungkook as her boyfriend in the first place.

She places him against the wall of the bed, groveling closer againt his ear. Her hands traces his shaved jaw, his pretty lips and then she whispers, ever so lightly that will for sure have jungkook to beg.

“fuck me sweetly, pretty please”

That will do. Jungkook grabs her back, placing her on his lap. She puts her legs on either of his hips, rubbing her clenched clit against his pulsating dick.

Her face breathes near his by the time he inserts himself against her. light moans and groans get filled with the pattering rain outside. The weather was windy but there was only steam raised up with the unusual heat.

Jungkook’s arms were around her tightened hips, guiding her as always. Her hands on his hair, pulling and tugging at every other pain that jungkook will very likely love to endeavor without any complains.

He is thrusting against her, deliberately hitting her favorite spot. There was a tune to the way both their bodies moved against each other. This moment does not make jungkook think of any other race, rarely, but has ever lost. Eva doesn’t remember any insult. Only them, only each other.

His lips gave hollow kisses on her neck, wanting more of eva’s moans to reach his ears. To be completely affected and addicted by the sexy and lustful sounds she can make.

Eva is beyond the level of pleasure she can receive. “shit, shit-fuck” she whimpers. Jungkook helps her adjust her hair, now clammy and against her pretty face.

Jungkook races his pace, determined and so focused on to let eva release her high. He has never been so out of control with any one else, not even on the tracks when his aim was to only win. Here, now, there’s no winning- only wanting to make love to a woman he can never make a future with.

Not that he doesn’t wish, only that eva thinks it’s this weird fucking schedule they have. Jungkook will like to think that make love-beautifully. Complicated but just her and only her.

Fuck if there was ever any other woman.

“want to keep fucking you forever, eva” he mumbles, sucking her nipples.

Eva has gained her breath, now a little in between her control “I have shoots to do tomorrow”

“or you could just leave everything and ride in Harleys with me” he mutters, quickly. “you know, ridin’…Harleys in….” he grins. Eva lets out an unwanted chuckle.

“shut up and fuck me”

“surely” he whispers, teeth gazing her ear, her neck, her hair, her everything.

Both were pacing up, trying to fuck as long as they want but their bodies wont really compromises because losing control has always been their suite with each other.

“cum with me, all over me, just me” he says, placing half kisses all over her shoulder as she moves, rubbing against her.

“the world doesn’t revolve around you” she says. Will not leave a chance to bite at jungkook’s cocky habits. Jungkook likes it anyway.

“your world does”

“bullshi-fuck!” she curses just as jungkook inserts hander, willingly to shut her bitchy mouth up.

“I am so sorry” he coos, looking up with his doe eyes.

He is not.

“fuck you” she growls “you are” he mumbles.

They both moved. Jungkook is losing his loads, wanting to unload every creamy spurt all over her, coating her with everything that’s there.

Her forehead leans to touch his, a little gentle. She is moving and moving, wanting to come apart as forever. There’s no need to restrain herself.

Eva’s stomach crumbles, feeling the knot of nirvana reaching her. she moans heavily, letting out the last breath of her high. Unaware that jungkook watches her come undone, a light smile, having nothing but warmth that has, shamefully, long gone but back whenever with her.

She moves herself, hurriedly to let her feel his cum too.

He grabs his throbbing cock and slides himself fully into her mouth, guiding her hair by the ponytail he has got a hold of. His grunts intensifies eva’s will to make him cum. His eyes roll a little, feeling her body go rigid the more she sucks.

Eva’s jaw started to get tired but she wants more. See the strongest man she knows get affected as much as she wants. Else wise she will yell and shout how much she hates him for ruining her both mentally and physically. But now, like this, hate is a word long banished, there’s only desire to collide, to tether at the edge and have the Buckingham palace appaear in the form of jungkook’s nakedness.

Her red lips wraps his dick lightly, molding and twisting. Jungkook’s release was building and his grip on her hand fastens, wanting her to come duck better, more than right now. Have all of him, his on her, her on hers too.

So filthy and unholy.

He guides her to coax up and down. Eva relinquishes the control, to the point of gagging. Jungkook was mewling, groaning by the mess eva has created.

When the pressure of his orgasm builds, he became breathless, pulling his cock out and on her face. Her chocolate orbs sparkled with such intensity jungkook, once again, wants to stay buried within her.

“where do you want me?” he grunts, impatient.

Eva scoots closer, kneeling. Her palms red. “on here, please”

“I am gonna cum, shit”

Jungkook releases, the raspy cum all over, making her lick her tongue. Jungkook is sometimes so surprised by her boldness as if even fucking again and again will not recompense how high jungkook gets with her.

Like she is angel, a diving sculptor only kept to be admired. But there, she is, so spectacularly licking her tongue, eyes wide and a mix of everything jungkook sees as his future home.

Only if.

He helps her get up. He knows the ritual now. She will go ahead, take a warm bath, forget she ever begs, as guilt will engulf her. Back to the old rhythm jungkook so fucking hates.

Eva walks over, plucking some soft towels, and open the door of the bathroom with a clack. She will not lock, traditionally. Let it open.

Jungkook walks over to the balcony, after putting on his jeans. Smoking has been a realief- a better drug than eva. Atleast it says it will intoxicate you with a previous warning. Doesn’t abandon you as well.

Seoul has bared its soul with a thunderous rain. Has been all the day. Jungkook eyes looks over the night-still glowing even under the thunder and winds. His eyes do not reach himself, betraying himself. What is he doing here? What is the need to be here?

The smoke he is taking whirls in front of him, like puffs matching his own emotions. Tangled and messy.

Jungkook loves to be pleasured by woman who sees him as some idol that can fulfill their undying sexual desires. Jungkook likes to play that way, takes all the control mostly, and then have them leave.

So, what’s here? He has asked himself that a lot of times and now there’s no answer.

Eva thinks he’s a heartless bastard without any moral sense. He will like to think he is. a selfish and pathetic person, opportunist too. All that synonyms. He will let eva think whatever she thinks.

She has always been like that- putting her own thoughts before his. But he will not call her toxic, crazy or insane. To him, she is so beautiful, so intangible that having her like that under him has kept him coming back like a magnet.

He will like to stay unvalued if that means eva will let him touch her.

Jungkook thinks of the breakup they had. So strangely, unpredictably.

Sure he had been busy for long, to the point coming to eva felt like a burden. Not that he will deny. There were races, endorsements, team meetings that turned into all-nighters, breakdowns of both bikes and contracts and the general exhaustion that came from maintaining an image as seouls’ underground racing champion.

He was busy. He was unavailable.

Emotionally detached like he has always have been. He didn’t understood he could be doing this when they first made love, then kissed and then promised each other a relationship. Jungkook was so deep into his feelings for eva that the retrospective of what could have happened if he put on his issues, didn’t enlighten him then.

He thought his usual distance would make eva understand-she is a celebrity too. That she would wait. That there was strength of what they had could survive a few unanswered calls, a few delayed flights and some miscommunication.

Apparently he was wrong. He knows better now. He might have never made her feel that he was still hers and her, his through all that chaos. Assumed that she would fill in the blanks with her own certainty. Only If, now that he thinks, he could have done things differently- said words he meant. Kissed, said he loved her and all that.

Eva had it all- money, fame, success and praises. So why would jungkook’s absence hurl her? that was jungkook’s wrong thinking because the only thing eva ever wanted was him. His little presence, a little enthusiasm in her works or whatever normal couples do.

Jungkook thought eva was better-alone but knowing he was there. And eva had a thing with romanticizing silence. She started filtering what she told him-the fights with her brand manager, the anxiety before fashion weeks, and all that media nightmares. She thought his absence meant he didn’t care or that, as they say, a silent minds leads to the bundle of issues and misunderstandings. Trust stood on the line, where she thought he was out there with someone else.

Thought what people would think. That hurt more than she ever let on. She acted like she didn’t need him anymore. Like he was just one more man in her life who was too selfish to really understand her. Maybe he was. But she never expressed it. Never gave him a chance to try. She’d walk past him in their shared apartment with the same calm indifference she used for paparazzi. Cold. Composed. Professional.

That was the thing about Eva. She was brilliant at performing love -radiant smiles, forehead kisses, and whispered “goodnights” over champagne glasses. But beneath that, she was scared. Scared of needing someone who wouldn’t stay. So she stopped needing. And Jungkook didn’t notice until she’d already stopped.

They both began to live parallel lives under the same roof  like touching the same walls, sleeping in the same bed, but drifting like unmoored satellites. He kept chasing adrenaline. She kept chasing control. And neither of them had the energy to sit down and ask, “Are we okay?”

One thing led to another-missing birthdays, each other’s championships, fashion shows and all that. It was not really about those terms either, because all circled to the fact that they were too busy aiming careers that love became sidetracked. Came to the point it felt like they have used each other for sex, for lust and no real feelings. It’s easier to think like that.

So, when people pressurize her with love-bombing questions about jeon jungkook as the boyfriend. Media wanted pictures, that didn’t thrill her anymore.

They fought over the unexpected break up agreement by eva just a little. Like, for the sake of fighting. She made the decision. He handed her the reason.

He didn’t beg. Didn’t show up at her door in the rain. Didn’t fight or did anything to keep her. thought it was better to let her go and have her deserve what she truly deserves. He thought staying would be the same as losing her-either way, she was gone.

And he let her, like a dumbfuck coward. The new boyfriend of hers is better, atleast is happy to har her. Might worship the ground she walks on. That is what Eva deserves

Not a stupid, jeon jungkook. People worships him, throws banners and adoration for what? He is a sick man. Who is proud to let go of his love. How shameful. How unmanly.

And so, when they made the offer of fucking without strings- jungkook thought it would be a way to apologize for all that he did as a pathetic lover. He will touch her like a man who has no right to ask for anything else. Will fuck her like an apology wrapped silently. That’s the least he can do.

Eva is a precious ruby, a rarest wonder built with finery as If the heavens took a personal time to create her. Her eyes, that glowed, like a mix of brown and hazel under moonlight. Her cheeks, toned but soft, sometimes sparkles under the dusky warmth. And then there’s her rounded lips so appealing and plump and what not. Her body-god heavens, her curves and every other shred of the skin he gets to touch. Oh, how lucky, isn’t he?

Eva must be kind letting a man as horrendous and pathetic as jeon jungkook still touch her. how, jungkook cannot fathom.

Only now that he stands overlooking the river flowing gently, rain a little heavier now, he thinks how close they were to achieve the stars if not the storm had arrived.

Ride or die, baby. Ride or die.

The bathroom tiles are cold now, done by the harsh wind outside. There’s some crippled leaves lying that has come from the window.

Eva lies on the tub, with the water running-half a turn hotter, then back a notch, something out of a habit more than desire. There are steams curled up that fogs the mirror near the tub. She cannot see her reflection right now but it might be one of contrition and self-hatred. Her undergarments were in a heap of the closed lid. The bra and her cotton panties. Minimal and nothing fancy.

Eva sinks into the water, slowly and carefully to engulf the silence ever more. The water falls on her thighs, her waist that still ached after the aftermath. The collarbones shiver with the heat while the purple bruise over there makes her hiss. She lets her knees fold, the water hugging like a blanket, protecting her. her skin looks pale and a mix of flushed pink now.

Usually, she lights candles, plays music and romanticize even though there’s nothing so blissful about it. However, tonight her muscles are a little too sore and her head hurt. Her heart is tired too. That was all.

She, has, throughout the night noticed the unusual approaches of jungkook- softer than regular, a little close, and at times his eyes looked like it wanted to ooze out and tell things he cannot. Why, why, why.

She should not care. Caring meant losing, weakening. But something about how jungkook touched her today. What was it?

When eva tries to move, she winces due to the dull ache in her lower back. Bubbles start to ripple and circulate -a mix of lavender and fresh lotus, like how she wants. Like how he wants her to want.

She tucks one foot under the other, toes brushing the curve of the drain. Water sloshes gently with the bubbles. The glass of wine she poured earlier is on the sink of the counter. She wants to drink some that can soothe all the pain.

A faint sound of someone approaching rings near her ears. She lets he eyes rest. She can never be prepared to whatever jungkook tells.

Jungkook quietly comes, leaning against the counter, in front of the mirror. The warm haze of steam meets him immediately, clinging to his already sweaty skin. The light overhead was a faint yellow only casting a grainy, golden tint.

Jungkook watches her. The angel. His pretty girl. Well, once.

Her collarbones peek through the surface of the bubble bath. A few droplets linger at the base of her throat. Her hair has fallen out of the messy bun in paces, loose strands curling damply against her shoulder.

Jungkook gazes at the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Beautiful. The way her fingers flexed occasionally under the surface causing the bubbles to pop. Beautiful too. A small bruise near her neck, made by him only for him to witness. That was beautiful. Those gentle breaths, those lashes that flutters, as if it knows jungkook presence but refuses to acknowledge.

That was beautiful too. Her hating him was gorgeous, fitting.

All that he wants.

Her lips part, jungkook sees.

“On a rate of 1-10, how intimidating is my face?” she mutters. Jungkook has to smile.

She remembers. Their little secret.

“so much I can go another round” he tells because he cannot tell “so much, I want to hodl you, hug you, kiss you, tell you I am yours and only yours”.

“you are a fucking man whore. Nuisance to society” eva muses “menace kind”

“only with you”

“please don’t call me for two weeks. I have loads to do” she tells, rising up to get out of the tub. Her skin glowing like hues of golden and something blush has poured upon.

Jungkook goes silent. Once again, that baffles eva. She looks straight to his eyes-that always looks unreadable. “what’s the matter with you?”

“eva” he speaks, so silently loud that their heartbeats could be heard maybe “I am moving to vegas. Tomorrow”

“oh” her face is rid of all that blush that was there just a second later”umm, like a club trip?”

Jungkook lets out a low chuckle “not really. It’s a contract with an affiliate club-li-like joint races, sponsorship gigs and maybe collab. Might take some years”

Silence slams into the room. Eva doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink.

“Congratulations” she muses.

Jungkook shakes his head once “Vegas is like a way out, all sorts of glam and all that. Nice place. Good money”

Eva steps out, tying the towel tight against her “good for you, yeah”

He bends his head slightly trying to decipher eva’s motions. “are you not happy for me?”

“not really. But yeah, good to know” she says, clenching her jaw. Jungkook steps forward, wanting to hold eva’s hands. Eva only backs off.

“what is it, eva?”

“since when have you received this…opportunity?” she asks, her damped hair dripping water.

“maybe, a month ago, I don’t kno-“

“and you didn’t tell me!” she turned. Jungkook can see how furious she is.

“we don’t talk normally, do we? Also yes-I am telling you now”

“why did I ever expect anything else either, jeon jungkook. Go ahead, kudos to your hardwork, chase your dreams, be rich”

“that was aggressive, thankyou, pretty girl”

“stop calling me that” there was a glare in eva’s face. And jungkook is a little annoyed too.

“what? What are you so pissed off about?” he stands up, leaning close “you wanted me gone from the face of earth, so what proposition do you have now?”

eva furrows, the little droplets still falling, one, two. “you want to know what I have to say?” she yells “I don’t want you to go to Vegas”

his brows twitch “funny. Don’t do this, eva. I already booked the flight”

“unbook it”

“I signed the contract-“

“rip it”

“I have promised my mates”

“break it. You’re good at it”

“jesus, eva!”

Eva pushes jungkook as he leans against the counter “you don’t get to fuck me jungkook and then leave. It was a mistake first time but not now, you promi-fuck that! We wanted this, don’t we?”

“and what is this?” jungkook accuses, trying to calm her

“this. Look, we broke up and that’s true but we were good with this, it is some other woman? You like someone else now?” eva asks, her tone rough now “if that’s the reason, I get it, you should-“

“stop this eva, you are hurting yourself” jungkook holds her wrist. He knew she will say something but never thought she can say things he never imagined. Didn’t she say she hates him?

“am I ?” eva clears her throat, her arms around his neck “then help me! Don’t leave me”

“you broke up with me, eva” jungkook mutters, his lips just over his “it wasn’t me, it was you. I begged you not to, I asked you what did I do wrong an you left. Why act now that you care?”

Eva looks down “alright then, I am a world-class pathetic person. I am selfish and so stubborn and I don’t care about anyone” her voice breaks. Her hands slip from jungkook’s neck “and I am sorry”

Jungkook looks else where. This is not the time for this. He promised himself he will just say his plan and walk away.

Instead he finds himself caressing her cheeks, his palm on either cheeks of her-his thumb gracing her like she is so precious, which indeed she is. “look at me”

Eva’s eyes travels to everywhere but on his. “I am a bad, bad person, eva. You see, with me, you will be just depressed, and I will hurt you” jungkook takes a breath “and you hate me. Remember that. You hate-you should hate me”

“I don’t” eva speaks, her eyes glistening. Her hands travel to caress his bare torso-a small scar along his collar “it’s funny, isn’t it? I don’t hate you at all, not at all. And you know that too.”

“then what, eva, do you love me? Do you have feelings for me?”

“what do you think?”

Jungkook sighs, blowing wind out of his cheeks. He pulls eva close and then turns the shower on. Cripples of water fall on them. Jungkook unties her towel, tossing it somewhere.

The water soothes both of them, as crystals from heaven. Jungkook pulls out something from his pocket that eva cannot see. Her back stays attached to his chest.

Something cold touches her chest, in between the curve of her breasts. It’s a small pendant, almost the shape of heart that looked like a small strawberry too- shining under the semi-golden husk.

“for you” he speaks, lips against her shoulder. Eva has no reason to cry, why would she? But she is, a drop or two falls as he adjusts the locket around her neck.

Eva remembers that she saw this, about an year ago, while being on a trip to new York with jungkook. There had been some issues that made them not purchase that moment. Jungkook remembers. And he remembers because forgetting it anymore will result in him not gifting this to her ever.

“please” eva sobs “don’t go, please”

“come with me then, there”

Eva goes silent. “you can’t, I know. Seoul is your life and that is mine. When we left each other, it was this damn career that pulled us apart. And I don’t think this will make any change this time too”

“I hate you, jungkook” eva manages to speak.

“yes, I know, you have made it very clear” jungkook speaks, his own voice breaking too. He plants a kiss on her shoulder. The water falls In rhythm. Their bodies get wet-so messy, no filthy and so them.

“you should leave” eva speaks letting herself where she forever wanted to belong. His arms, her body only in his arms.

“do you want me to go?” jungkook smirks, lifting his hand to move the wet hair from her collar, kissing and teasing. Eva gasps which makes jungkook want to savour every breathe he can, right now.

“we- we can do long distance” eva offers, unsure of her own words.

“you have gone mad ,eva. Didn’t know you still want me that much” jungkook speaks but it’s not a tone he usually uses to flirt. He is breaking too. Eva can understand.

“is everything a joke to you?” eva was crying as she speaks, her eyes shut as jungkook’s fingers squeezes her breasts, his lips on her bare back. So close they might die together.

“that boyfriend of yours, he is a nice guy and he h-“

“he is not my boyfriend. You know it. It is a part of making some scandals. Stop bringing him” eva practically warns, now turning around.

Their eyes meet, so determined to fall apart. There was a tension neither wanted to acknowledge. Were they not breaking because all they wanted stood infront of each other. A family they once believed they will build. Those petty dreams.

“what’s stopping us, jungkook? From us becoming something?” eva says leaning close, her eys full of moisture and undone tears.

“tell me, if I say, you will leave everything, forgive me and come, with me?hmm?” jungkook mutters.

“will you do, that, if I say?”

Jungkook keeps a silence to hang over. Eva learns jungkook will never be the one she wants but then he speaks “I will, eva. I will do anything to have you back”

He snickers and continues. “but you wont, eva. You wont like me without my dreams and you cannot abandon your success too. It’s a harsh and cruel reality. We are better off without each other”

“what about our promises?” eva suddenly mutters.

Promises. Promises like building a house in seoul’s outskirt-live and grow a future. Promises like going on long and reckless drives during the night. Promises like kissing each other until they are sick of it. Promises like having toddlers dancing around the house. Promises like him going to praise her after and before every ramp and her cheering the loudest for him. Promises like visiting LA together, watch agora hills, visit places no one goes. Do things no one knows. Promises.

“what are promises, if not broken?” jungkook chooses to say. “hate me, eva and let me hate you too, that will help me survive”

Eva has her hands clutched around him, refusing to leave. Jungkook’s eyes bore onto his- like memorizing every contour that’s there on his girl’s face. “and hit me, punch me, kill me too, but” he reaches forward removing her tears that has dried “don’t cry for me. I am not worth your tears”

Eva pulls him closer, kissing him, savoring his taste. Jungkook leans too, kissing her lips, her nose, her cheeks and all of her. she is a drug, better than anything. He takes all the time to cherish her, tell her-if not through words- how precious she is. how undeserving of jungkook.

He is hugging her tight. They don’t understand how love can be this harsh, so cruel. Only that love was a bunch of apologies. So jungkook is sorry. Sorry for loving her, sorry for letting her love him. But he cannot say that. It will be harder to leave.

jungkook breaks the hug, pulling her close. His fingers lift her chin, pressing one long kiss. tongue to tongue, moulding and twisting as if a simple kiss can join the two and make them inseparable. only if.

They are standing against the main door, his back to her. eva doesn’t speak.

Jungkook turns once, trying his best to cheer. He has told about how he will call, give all the updates and that they will remain friends. But he might not do because eva wil be better If she doesn’t’ get a call too.

“I’ll miss you, pretty girl” he laughs. Eva smiled too.

Maybe, jeon jungkook is a lot of things. A lot of what ifs in him, a lot of complications eva will remember.

But also, this is true.

Jeon jungkook is her asshole.

taglist (send me an ask): @lovingkoalaface , @mar-lo-pap , @struberri , @kooscripted

thankyou so much @cursed-carmine for these dividers. your works are incredible and creative <3

[theparticleofg0d]

Fade Into You

Daryl Dixon x Reader

You are woken up by your boyfriend, Daryl, who just got done with a hunt. He missed you… a lot.

Hi! This is my first published fanfic so I really hope it’s good! The Daryl brainrot has gotten so bad that I had to channel it into writing haha. Anyway I think I’ll be posting more fanfics on here, as I have some others that I’m writing as well! Please lmk if you like this! Thank you!

Cw: Smut, Vaginal fingering, dirty talk, D/S (I suppose?)

You slowly blink your eyes open as you feel the bed dip next to you.

“Relax girl, it’s jus’ me.”

You sigh. It’s just your boyfriend, Daryl.

He sighs and begins to untie his boots, sitting on the bed with his back to you. You, still sleepy, wrap your arms around his waist, feeling his strong muscles under his shirt.

“How was hunting?” You whisper to him.

“Was alrigh’. Got a few squirrels, rabbits. Was hopin’ for a deer, though.” He begins to unbutton his shirt.

His big hand softly pats yours, which are wrapped around his waist. You move them for a second so he can take off his shirt.

You watch as his back comes into view. This certainly isn’t the first time you’ve seen his scares, and he’s slowly gotten more used to it. You softly touch his back muscles and his bird tattoo on his shoulder blades, then kiss the bird’s head.

You hear him let out a deep sigh again as he moves to lay down, pulling you into his chest. He moves your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead.

“How was my girl today? Hm?”

You smile and nuzzle your head against him.

“Was good. Missed you.”

He hums softly and moves his hand so it’s under your shirt., raking his nails over your lower back.

“Missed ya too. I uh… I found some flowers. Thought ya might like ‘em. Put ‘em on the table downstairs.”

You smile. He was always so thoughtful, constantly bringing you back little gifts when he went out. Stealing CDs from cars for your little CD player, little trinkets that made him think of you. He kisses your forehead again.

“I’m sure they’re beautiful,” you respond to him

He nods and reaches for your hips and pulls you fully on top of him, still scratching your back. You can finally see his face now. His pupils are blown wide from the dark. His face is a little dirty, but really when is it not. He licks his lips.

You lean in and kiss him softly. He eagerly kisses back and one hand goes to the back of your head. You pull away and smile at him.

“You smell good,” you whisper.

He looks confused. “What? I’m sure I smell like sweat and the woods. And cigarettes.”

You giggle.

“Smells good.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your forehead again. “Crazy girl. Hell am I gonna do with ya?”

He pulls back and sighs, smiling fondly at you.

“You tired?” You ask.

He shrugs. “A bit. Huntin’ took a lot outta me, but seeing you gave me a second wind.” He smiles. “Why? Ya tired?”

You sigh. “A little. I was kinda asleep when you got here.”

The tips of Daryl’s ears turn pink, but it’s barely visible in the low light. “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to wake ya.”

You kiss his scruffy cheek. “It’s ok. I don’t mind. I got cuddles out of it.”

He gets a bit redder. He would’ve wanted to cuddle anyway. Truth be told, he couldn’t sleep without you anymore. When you’re away on a run overnight he doesn’t sleep, his arms feel painfully empty.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, a weird habit you’ve picked up. Daryl smiles, secretly enjoying how affectionate you are.

You kiss his cheek again, then pull away just slightly, close enough that your nose is still touching his face. You move down towards the area below his ear and give him another kiss there, then another on his neck.

You pull back and look at him. His eyes are glazed over slightly.

He licks his lips and grabs the back of your neck gently and pulls you in for another kiss, pressing his lips softly against yours. You can feel his hand that was scratching your back move to your hip. You kiss for a moment before pulling away, slightly breathless.

“Yeah?” He asks. You nod. He always knows exactly what you want.

“Atta girl.”

He moves to kiss you again, his hand on your hip moving to grasp your ass. He pulls you against him, and you can feel his bulge press against you.

You moan softly into the kiss. Daryl pulls away slightly.

“Shhh… shhh, ‘s ok, sweetheart.”

You blush, slightly embarrassed how worked up he can make you just from kissing.

He begins to kiss your neck and down to your collarbones, moving your shirt down.

“‘S this my shirt?”

You blush darker. “Maybe?”

“‘S cute. Ya look better in ‘em than I do.”

He reaches for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re just wearin’ panties.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s more comfortable to sleep like that!”

He cracks a small smile. “I ain’t complainin’.”

His hands go to your panties and touches the outside. He leans in and whispers to you.

“You’re drippin’ sweetheart. Lil thing missed me, huh?” His smile widens as you blush more.

“Oh, I know. I know, baby. Shhh…”

Pulling your panties to the side, his fingers go to your clit and pinch it slightly. When you gasp he takes it as a sigh to move one of his thick fingers down to your weeping hole. He presses his middle finger in slowly, smiling as you whine. His other hand gives your ass a little encouraging pat.

“There ya go. Takin’ me so well.”

He slowly pumps his finger in and out.

“Think ya can take another?”

You weakly nod.

“‘Course ya can.”

He pushes his ring finger in alongside his middle finger.

“Takin’ me so well. Ya always do. This body’s made for me, ain’t it.”

You nod again, burying your face in his chest.

He continues pumping his fingers in and out. You watch as he looks down at where his fingers disappear inside you, almost mesmerized.

“Jesus Christ, girl…”

You look up. “Something wrong?”

“Nah,” he replies. “‘S just… the way ya look… I like it…”

You blush. “Oh…” You feel his fingers curl slightly and hit your spot.

“Mmh… Daryl…”

He cracks another small smile. “Yeah? Right there?”

You just nod in response, biting your lip and digging your fingers into his shoulders.

You feel him move his thumb to press down on your clit. He takes his other hand and places it on the back of your head, pulling you in to kiss your forehead before pushing your face against his chest.

You whine against his chest. He smells so good and his hands are so gentle. It’s just not fair.

“Daryl…”

He shushes you.

“I know sweetheart. Cum for me, sweet girl. I gotcha.”

You whine louder, gripping him tighter, your vision going white.

He continues to move his fingers inside you, working you through your orgasm.

You slump against his chest and whine, slightly overstimulated.

The sleepiness hits you right away. You feel him pull his fingers out. Still cradling your head, he pulls back slightly and looks down at you, smiling when he sees your face.

He holds his fingers up to your mouth, covered in your slick. He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking.

You move closer to take them in your mouth and suck on his fingers, moaning at the taste.

He moves his hand cradling your head to ruffle your hair.

“Atta girl.” He pulls his fingers back, your mouth making a “pop” noise. He smiles, watching as a strand of saliva connects your mouth and his fingers.

“Ya tired now girl?”

You frown.

“What about you?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m ok. You need your rest. Plus, we have all day tomorrow for you to help me.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“I thought Rick wanted you to go hunting again tomorrow.”

“Rather spend the day with you. Fuck ‘em.”

He pauses.

“On second thought, it won’t be him I’m fuckin’ tomorrow now will it?”

You scoff.

“How can you be so shy then say stuff like that?”

Daryl shrugs.

“Don’t think ‘bout it too hard, girl. Now get some sleep. You’ll need your energy for the morning.” He smirks.

You sigh.

“When did you get so sassy?”

He laughs.

“Ya rub off on me.”

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

cute/sad things about perma eaten stan from the birthday au please? 🥺

Well, since you asked so nicely :)

Cute huh. Hmmm. Ford, once it's determined Stan will never recover and doesn't really care to look after his own self interest beyond survival and making things easier for himself, bends over backwards to make sure he's never tempted to hit the road and live somewhere else, and also never really gives up that maybe someday Stan will go back to being himself. Gets a room set up for him, hashes out a contract once he realizes Stan's internal logic determines everything requires money so that Stan feels OK enough to make the space his own, and never stops trying to include Stan in things.

Stan doesn't care, but also doesn't care to refuse, so they'll go out and hike in the woods, go fishing, study anomalies, any kind of bonding activity Ford can think of. Eventually it's less as a hope to try and have Stan recover and more to ease his own troubles about Stan not doing anything outside of work, eating and sleeping, then waiting around to work again. Becomes twice as loud and emotional to make up for Stan's lack of reaction. Over time he stops hovering as much, but he does act as a barrier between Stan and anyone he thinks is trying to take advantage of the fact Stan will just do things people ask him to do if they pay him or he determines its not worth refusing. There was a grace period where Stan got the most boring but well paying job he could manage where no one realized they could give Stan five bucks to do about anything, several months to a year they took advantage of that fact, then never again once Ford caught wind of it and assaulted anyone he caught paying Stan five bucks to do menial tasks they were too lazy to do.

Sad things are way easier :) like I said, Fords sorta but never given up that one day Stan might get better, so he includes Stan in anything he can manage, including family meals, where he'll fill the silence by telling Stan all about his day or dreams, then ask Stan and enthusiastically respond to every bland 'ok' and 'Fine', trying to get more detail without trying to force Stan to respond like he would at the start.

Instead of a portal Fords spent 30 years researching souls trying to see if he can fix Stan's soul in other ways, but by the time the twins show up he's mostly resigned to the fact that Stan's never going to be the smiling criminal he loved, and just makes do with whatever scraps of ghost emotions Stan can muster. Freaks the twins out when he manages to get Stan to sorta smile at a terrible joke and explodes into cheers, or makes food so terrible Stan will wrinkle his nose and gets excited about it.

Very black and white, where Stan's the most boring old man alive and the kids are convinced Fords got some kind of emotional processing disorder or is bipolar with the way he'll bounce between being the most cheerful energetic old man they've ever seen to poking their head in his office to see him staring dead eyed at the wall because he's hit another dead end.

[lucylockets]

Super Love!

summary: a small drabble of you and conner’s relationship as a super and a bat.

pairings: conner kent/kon el x wayne!reader (readers gender is not specified)

warnings: just fluff!

a/n: this is mostly comic based, but there are elements from young justice in here. my first time writing for kon el! requested by anon! dividers by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

- conner doesn’t always feel seen.

lex never viewed him as a son, but rather a tool. clark and kara are nice, but he often feels like he’s living in their shadows. everytime he tries to help people, one of them always takes over, claiming that they “got it.” he likes ma and pa kent, but conner’s convinced they only look after him because clark asked them to.

- but you? you’re so observant, it’d be impossible for anyone to not feel seen by you.

- you help him without meaning to after he escapes cadmus.

he hates when people walk on eggshells around him, and that’s the exact opposite of what you do. he suspects you simply don’t have the time to consider feelings when you meet him.

“so, you’re the clone?” you ask, your eyebrows slightly raised.

conner grits his teeth. he hates being called that. “my name is conner.”

you seem to have caught on. “(name).” you respond.

- you two clash sometimes. he’s impulsive, whereas you have a plan. he can be rash, whereas you tend to map out your decisions.

- the stubbornness from the two of you can get insane. both in and out of costume.

“(name), i’m literally begging you. please go to the doctor.”

“oh, i’m sorry, conner. is this our stab wound?”

- you meet him outside of costume. you’re the epitome of class, having been raised in the upper class of society. conner is . . . not.

he wears fingerless gloves and a leather jacket that makes you scoff. he annoys you on purpose by stretching out his arms to shove the gloves into your face. you stare back at him unamused. he smirks.

clark thinks you might help conner with social interaction, since you’re no stranger to being in front of cameras and navigating your way through a room full of people.

- even when you two annoy each other endlessly, he never brings up the fact that he hears your heart rate pick up when you’re together. maybe because he’s ignoring how his does too.

he doesn’t know why he wants to fix his hair when he sees you, or why he feels a little warmer in his shirt. he tells himself he enjoys teasing you because you’re fun to pester, but it’s really just because he wants your eyes on him. he needs you to notice him.

- you two spend extra time together and do open up to each other. slowly. you both are guarded people, who don’t show vulnerability with just anyone.

if he gets angry or bothered about his whole situation, being a combination of two people that hate each other, and belonging to neither of them, you sit with him.

“why not talk to clark about this?” you ask gently.

“i don’t want to.” he says, looking away. “i dont think he’d take much notice, anyway. i’m just a problem for him. nothing but a lab experiment.”

it’s silent for a moment before your fingers touch his. carefully. he has space to pull away if he wanted, but he doesn’t. he wouldn’t pull away from you.

“i don’t view you as that.” you tell him. his eyes meet yours, automatically seeing if you’re lying.

you continue, “i mean, i view you as annoying. and a little incompetent. and perhaps slightly-“

“you aren’t helping.” he gives you a look.

you start again. “what i’m trying to say is that i don’t think you should confine yourself to that lab. you’re a lot more than that. to me, at least.”

and for some reason, he feels better.

- both of you understand what it’s like to have expectations that can feel impossible to live up to. you’ve been exposed to the vigilante lifestyle since birth, becoming robin as soon as you could, and then your own name. conner was created to be a weapon, nothing more than another piece in lex’s artillery.

you’ve worked for years to stay outside of batman’s shadow, like how he’s working to stay outside of superman’s.

so you subconsciously stick together. there’s no verbal announcement that you two are close, just the knowing that you both have.

- and when you two do start dating, he’s always racing off to gotham with an excuse.

“slow down, conner, or you’ll get the hiccups,” ma reminds him as he wolfs down his breakfast.

pa looks up from his newspaper, raising his eyebrows. “what’s the big rush, kid?”

“just going to gotham,” conner shrugs. ma smiles at him, which makes him look at his food.

“yeah?” she asks with a knowing look. “why’s that?”

he mumbles a few words about helping out batman and a few things that clark asked him to do. something about the looks ma and pa exchange stops him from his usual arrogance.

- the idea of keeping it out of the cameras doesn’t last long. if you ever get kidnapped because of your status, and you have just wait for someone to get you because you can’t reveal your alter ego, best believe conner is making a show of it.

he’ll carry you in his arms with a cocky look, bragging to journalists. he’ll literally flirt with you while the interview is happening.

“i always have time for my favourite billionaire, even if it means saving them all the time.”

“superboy, is this you announcing a relationship with (name)?”

“can’t confirm nor deny.” he grins. “but i think they’re totally into me.”

- NEVER stops flirting with you. it’s just second nature to him, a reflex.

a mission in a museum? conner looks at you, “i already see a work of art.” tops each one off with a wink.

stopping a robbery? he will announce to the burglars that you’ve already “stolen his heart.”

could literally be in the middle of fighting someone and would say “hey babe, if bring gorgeous was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged.”

- if you ever help him with training, he will turn it into a date.

you put your hand on his back to help him with his stance, and he’ll lean close to you with a grin. “you know, if you want to just skip training for today-“ “shut up.”

during missions, he shows off for you. he does a dodging move that you taught him, and checks if you were watching. “see that, pretty? i was listening to you.” you give him a look, but appear amused, “well done, conner.”

- even though he’s overconfident, he desires approval.

- you two definitely come up with your own moves. your favourite is when you jump off rooftops without looking, knowing that he’ll catch you. he always does.

always says “just fell from heaven?” when he catches you. or another favourite is “can’t stop falling for me, huh?”

- during intimate moments, like the first “i love you”, or sharing vulnerable parts with each other, you don’t call him ‘conner’. you don’t even notice it. but during those times, “kon el” just slips off your tongue. you’ll never know how much it means to him.

- he’s the type of boyfriend to act nonchalant, but will literally not let go of you. when you’re sitting next to him, he has his hand on your arm, thigh, or around your shoulders. his fingers curl around your sleeve like he’s afraid someone’s going to snatch you away.

he hates not being paired with you on missions. if you’re not in his eyesight, there’s a voice in the back of his head nagging him to check on you. his teammates are constantly telling him to stop clogging up the comm line by asking about you.

-lets you stitch your initials into the inside of his jacket. pretends he doesn’t look at them everytime he puts it on and off. DEFINITELY pretends he doesn’t sneakily open it every so often to get a glance.

also has a polaroid of you in the inside pocket of his jacket. he’s stared at it so often that it’s wonder he hasn’t burned holes into it.

- he isn’t huge on pda, but he LOVES sneaky touches. he’ll let his hand wander down just an inch too low when passing you, planting a kiss on your cheek before walking away. during briefings, his fingers will trace your skin under the desk, and nobody is none the wiser.

if you swat his hand away, he’ll keep them to himself for maybe two seconds (if you’re lucky), before reaching out again.

it’s partly because you’re so composed, and he loves being your opposite.

- when he’s in your room, he will jump onto the bed in the most exaggerated way. literally flop onto it backwards. spreads himself out like a starfish.

- can be a massive dork? but the things he’s a dork about aren’t typically ‘nerd’ topics. for instance, he literally knows every part to any car. probably has to restrain himself from opening the hood of the batmobile anytime he’s around it.

he also claims that it’s his “duty” to show you rock bands that aren’t mainstream. he’s probably into metal as well, and will share playlists with you. if you have a record player (bc it’s wayne manor duh) he will ABUSE it. constantly shows you vinyls, because he really believes that his music taste is the best. no questions asked.

- firm believer in he shows you music, you show him films. you have a home theatre, after all. you and him watch a range of action, thriller, and comedies. rom-coms in february, and horrors in october, and of course christmas movies in december.

he’ll watch each one and discuss them with you afterwards. he probably won’t really pay much attention to the ‘cinematography’ or the usage of colours and symbolism, but if you love it, he does too.

- he loves the fact that you’re his friend as well as his girlfriend. he wants to hang out with you! if you hope for a quiet day in, you’re severely disappointed.

when you’re reading, he’ll drape himself around your shoulders, whining about you not paying him attention. you flick his forehead and tell him to be patient, he’ll say “but babe, i’m bored and you’re so pretty!”

- damian is shocked that his sibling is dating a kent.

“first grayson dates a tamaranean, and now you’re dating a half-kryptonian.”

you smile, raising your eyebrows. “and you’re friends with jon.”

he tuts. “that is completely different. i can’t seem to shake him.”

jon is over the moon that his relative is dating damian’s sibling. he claims that means they’re “basically family”. damian rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to protest.

- i can see conner and jason getting along though. it isn’t a loud friendship, or one that people really notice. but it’s there.

- conner takes you to the farm. he wants you to meet ma and pa, and to see the first place he felt somewhat comfortable.

its unpolluted and quiet, which is a stark contrast to gotham. you’re convinced your lungs actually expanded to breathe in more of the clean air.

however, conner spots the slight nose scrunch from you when you smell the cows. he teases you about your lack of skill and experience when you help milk the cows, and walks past you holding fence pieces with a smug look.

when you arrive, martha greets you with a hug before bringing you inside. jonathan gives you silent approval with a nod before offering you tea. the farm has a certain coziness that wayne manor can sometimes lack.

- when you two lay together, he will grumble when you out your arm around him, but he’ll tuck himself into you. he isn’t as loud during those moments. he isn’t making a cocky remark. he likes to just soak in the moment of being next to you, knowing that you care about him.

- he doesn’t know how he got here, or what he did to deserve you, but he knows he doesn’t want to leave. he’d go up against anyone, as long as you were on his side.

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

Does SQH ever put together that Binghe is his sisters son? Also, was the widening of eyes during the sealing of TLJ because he thought he was looking at a disguised SXY? Does he ever get freed and what does he think about this situation?

in my mind there is another installment of the series set between What I Need Right Now and I May Be Young that takes place when Bingge is a toddler and that resolves some of the stuff between SQH and Huan Hua Palace (what is IMBYAH about if not that you may be asking?? dont worry about it...)

ifff that fic happens, this is what ive been thinking for it:

=== MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW ===

At first, when the Old Palace Master saw Shang Qinghua outside one of the entrances to the Water Prison, dressed in An Ding yellow, he thought that Su Xiyan was making an escape attempt. That she had somehow freed herself, gotten a Cang Qiong uniform from the visiting disciples, and was trying to stealth her way out.

When he felt Shang Qinghua's spiritual energy, he could tell that it felt different from Su Xiyan's. However, he did also feel the demonic energy from her baby.

Then, the Cang Qiong head disciple and head disciple of the second ranked peak show up, calling 'Su Xiyan' by a different name. Old Palace Master is both intrigued and confused! After they leave, he goes and checks the Water Prison and finds Su Xiyan still inside. She either doesn't respond or claims not to know what he's talking when he questions her, but he sees something in her expression when he says that he saw someone else who looks exactly like her. He files this information away and resolves to keep an eye on Shang Qinghua.

When the Old Palace Master goes to attend the ascension ceremony for the next generation of Peak Lords, he finds Shang Qinghua and watches him. Here is someone with Su Xiyan's face, and everyone on the mountain is acting like this is someone else entirely, someone they all know. He's even about to be Peak Lord of An Ding! After the ceremony, he sees him leaving in distress and sends some cultivators to follow him. He also sends a talisman to Huan Hua Palace to have the guards check on Su Xiyan in the Water Prison.

Su Xiyan has taken the chance of the Palace Master and most of the highest ranking disciples being out of the sect to escape.

The Old Palace Master receives the report back that Su Xiyan is gone. He orders his cultivators to capture 'Shang Qinghua,' assuming this was all part of some trick after all. Mobei-jun and the other peak lords kill all of the cultivators he sends.

The next that the Old Palace Master is aware, Shang Qinghua is back at the sect, everyone continues to act like this is totally normal, and word reaches him that the An Ding Peak Lord has adopted a child.

--

Some time shortly after all of this, Mobei-jun begins making big moves. He's always been quietly setting up his play for the throne, building support and power and taking out his rivals with Shang Qinghua's help. Suddenly, he is like a man possessed—he begins doing absolutely everything possible to take out his siblings and secure himself the place as the one and only option for the next king of the north.

This makes Linguang-jun, who would very much like to be the next king and who is growing less sure by the day that his soft, easily manipulable nephew won't kill him for the throne, very nervous. He starts looking into why Mobei-jun is making out-of-character power plays, and discovers that his nephew's human servant has had a child. Not only that, but they're courting.

Now Linguang-jun knows that Mobei-jun is trying to take the throne early because he wants to protect his human lover and child. Easy peasy, Linguang-jun just needs to use them to distract Mobei-jun from his power-grab and quickly take the throne out from under him. Killing them outright isn't the best option—it could get back to Mobei-jun and then Linguang-jun will have to deal with the full might of his fury. No, he needs something subtler. More digging reveals a perfect option—apparently, the Old Palace Master has some sort of long standing obsession with Peak Lord Shang and his child. He's sent kidnappers to try to take the child before.

So all Linguang-jun has to do is help the Old Palace Master steal away Shang Binghe, and Mobei-jun will be so distracted trying to save him that he won't notice it when Linguang-jun eats his brother's heart (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ‹𝟹

--

What exactly TLJ thought was happening when he saw SQH at the battle and if he will be freed are questions that should be answered by IMBYAH, so i'll leave those a mystery for now haha

I will say, TLJ did know that SQH was not SXY when they had their fuck-or-die sex pollen adventure. TLJ initially approached pollened!SQH because he thought that he was a demon wearing the face of TLJ's lover to try to seduce him and lured SQH off intending to kill him for it. however, talking to SQH quickly made him realize that something else was going on, so instead he 'cured' him and resolved to tell his lover this funny story. SXY did not find this story as funny as he expected her to. however, neither of them had much time to linger on it, since soon after that SXY disappeared and when next TLJ heard from her, it was to draw him into the trap that sealed him away for the next fifteen years

TYSM for this ask!! it was fun to write all this out haha, its just been plot threads that ive been mulling over a lot up till this point, and writing them out did make me want to pursue writing this part of the story... probably after IMBYAH tho!

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Casually Devoted. Part Four. "Don't Overthink It." Erik Campbell x FEM! Reader. NSFW.

Hello, hello, hello! I hope you are all excited for another big fat fucking meal of a chapter! Another exciting update to Casually Devoted, series masterlist here. Because me and @28bohemianmoons have worked hard as fuck yet again to bring you this banger! I hope you all love this and find it worth the wait, chapter five is already like half done. My lovely beta reader has some stuff coming up so the next one might take a bit to get out but it will be worth it! Next chapter is the halfway point! Without further ado, let’s get into it!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 11.5K. Erik Campbell X FEM! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Friends With Benefits. Banter. A Date That TOTALLY Isn’t A REAL Date You Guys! Lingerie. Dirty Talk. Making Out. Eating Pussy. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Vaginal Fingering. Squirting. Multiple Orgasms. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Fluff. Softness. The Idiots Are Starting To Question Things AND Their Feelings. Julia Makes Her First (But Not Her Last) Appearance. 

—

The soft drone of music playing through the speakers and the buzzing of the AC paired with the dark clouds rolling in outside set a dreary, depressing backdrop for Erik’s latest headache. Whom of which is currently standing at the floor-length mirror ogling his new ink without a care in the world. Erik is stewing behind the counter, praying for the swift end to this arduous interaction.

“Thanks again, it looks great.” His latest tattoo client isn’t looking Erik in the eyes, still too engrossed by the fresh ink on his bicep to muster even the most basic etiquette. To be fair, the tattoo came out pretty amazing. Still, it is bad form, and a severe lack of awareness for social cues. This guy’s mind, much like Erik’s, is miles away. Either way, this six-hour ordeal over the span of nearly two months is nearly over. 

Erik automatically responds with, “Yeah, anytime. If you want something in the future, just shoot me a message.” 

“Totally.” The guy drawls in the same flat affectation Erik has been forced to listen to for the entirety of this. He pulls out his wallet and removes the veritable stack of cash. He passes it over without counting it out, and Erik accepts it with a half smile. As he turns to leave, Erik calls out to his retreating form, “Don’t lose the aftercare sheet! And post that review, man.” 

Erik’s seemingly content client dismissively waves him off as he departs. The odds of him writing that review are about forty to one. Erik counts out the money and weirdly enough, he actually left a good tip, way more than he was expecting. This is a sizable amount of dough; Too much to not do something good with it. He is folding the bills with one hand, and pulling out his wallet with the other. He ponders what to do with such a large sum as he stuffs the bills into his wallet.

Midway through cleaning up his station post-tattoo, the idea strikes.

It’s been three weeks since he’s seen you in person. You’ve still texted and talked on the phone a few times, but your busy schedules have left little room for you to meet up. From work to a long holiday weekend to other commitments, the timing has just not been right for either of you. He should rectify this, right now. Once he finishes sanitizing, he pulls out his phone, taking advantage of the currently empty shop to call you.

The phone rings four times before you pick up on the fifth ring. You sound a little breathless as you greet him, “H-Hello?”

“Hey!” He greets, then he asks, “You alright?” You brush off the question, “Yeah, totally. W-Why?” 

“You sound pretty out of breath.” His flirty tone shines through, and you pick up what he’s putting down. You laugh easily, “Sorry to break your heart and kill your boner, but I’m not masturbating. I’m-”

He cuts in with a grin that you can hear from your side of the phone, “For once.”

Rolling your shoulder to keep the phone in the right position, you say, “Yeah, for once. I’m in the middle of painting my nails. Answering your call without ruining them took a little effort.” 

“Jesus, should we start hitting the gym together? Get your stamina up?” He inquires. 

You lift your hand higher to the light and squint at your nails, trying to discern if the coats are even. You explain, lightly teasing at the end, “I was sitting on the floor and my phone was face down on the opposite side of the coffee table, and– Actually, I don’t have to explain myself to you!” 

He hums unconvinced, before he can say anything else you tack on, “Did you call just to bitch, orrr was there another reason?”

“Yes, actually. I did. What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asks. You sigh out, “Blissfully, thankfully, nothing. I’m run off my feet lately.” 

Perfect timing. He says, “Same here. Sooo, I suggest we meet up.” 

“Oh my God, yes! It’s been weeks. What did you have in mind?” You excitedly ask as you slide the second coat over your thumbnail with a grin. 

Erik asks a question, “Well, guess what I finally finished today?”

You hum, thinking for a moment and then gasp as the realization hits. “Oh my God! Fucking snake thing guy! Did he finally sit still long enough for you to finish the colours?

“He did! Only took Four. Fucking. Sessions.” You can hear the mock joy in Erik’s voice. He walks back towards the other side of the shop as he listens to you mutter, “Damn, that guy’s pain tolerance must have been terrible.” 

“You have no idea.” Erik sighs, seating himself down behind the counter before continuing. “So with my newly acquired pile of cash, I was thinking…”

He drags it out for a moment. He hesitates slightly, feeling unexpectedly odd about the suggestion, which is strange. This isn’t the first time you’ve shared a meal, not even close. Honestly, all the sex you’ve had since you met is more intimate than what he’s about to ask you. Erik swallows, pushing the feeling down and away. 

You press him, the curiosity and anticipation getting the better of you, “Thinking…?”

“...about us going out for dinner.” He finishes his original thought. His lips quirk contentedly at the pleased hum you let out. “Oooh! Yeah, we haven’t actually gone out for dinner together!” 

It’s true. You've shared many diner breakfasts, homemade lunches and takeout dinners over the past few months. But going out to dinner? Not even once. Erik elaborates, “Thought it might be a nice change of pace. Also, it’s the least I can do since you’ve listened to me bitch about this fucking guy the whole time. Without complaint, might I add.” 

“Ahhh, I see. As a thank-you.” You still haven’t said yes, but Erik is hanging onto your every word until you finally answer him. “I’m in.” 

He can’t stop the shock from slipping into his voice as he drawls out, “Really?” 

“Of course! Dinner on your dime? How could I possibly turn that down?” You tease before adding more seriously, “But I’ve really missed getting to see you. The pleasure of your company is all the incentive I need.” 

“Awe how sweet. Careful I feel a cavity coming on.” He pauses only for a moment before saying, “I picked up on your emphasis on pleasure, by the way.” 

“Can’t sneak anything past you, music man. What can I say? I’m a simple creature, I miss riding that pretty face.” You shrug, even though he can’t see it. You set your hands down on the table, letting your nails dry before you go in with your top coat. 

Your words remind Erik of the last time he was between your thighs; Your addicting taste and the moans he drew out of you over and over again. Christ, he needs to do that again. It’s been too long. He replies honestly, “I’m not even gonna try to pretend that I haven’t been thinking about that, too.” 

“So it’s settled! Have a nice dinner then bang each other’s brains out, sounds like the makings of a great night.” You are practically beaming over the prospect. He’s definitely joining in on your excitement, and then moves on to ask, “Where do you wanna go?”

“I get to pick where we go, too?” You are delighted as you ask, “Tell me, are you that eager to blow all your money in one night?” 

Lightning flashes then thunder rumbles, followed by raindrops pelting the shop windows from the outside. He spins in his chair, eyes rising up towards the ceiling as he jokes, “I’ve come to count on you sucking me dry sexually, sure. Buuuut I didn’t think sucking me dry financially was on the table, as well.” 

“Well, you are right, it’s not. And I would never.” You say sincerely before the words finally sink in. “And also, you make it seem like I’m using a vacuum cleaner on you in bed. Not a pretty picture you paint there, music man…” Erik laughs at your musings while you think seriously for a second. Then you suggest, “How about we go to that taco place on Seventh?”

He does like the food there, but that’s not exactly the kinda place he was thinking of. He scoffs before saying, “Oh come on, you know how much money this guy gave me? We can do better than a mid-range joint like that.”  

You agree, laughing lightly, “Okay, okay. Nicer than that, I hear you.” 

He leans against the counter as he clarifies, “Yes, please. I mean it. No place that has burgers or a value meal on the menu. Think bigger.” 

You really rack your brain this time, and then you have the perfect place in mind, “How ‘bout Angelo’s? That Italian place near downtown with that gorgeous little patio set-up. I’ve never been, but I’ve always wanted to go. Is that nice enough for you?” 

He needs no further explanation, he’s sold. “Yes, much more in line with what I was thinking. Good choice.” 

“Awesome, I’m excited! I hear their pasta is insane.” You gush, he listens with a smile on his face. You both hash out minor details for tomorrow. Before saying goodbye, you joke, “Hey, Erik? This place has a strict no band tee and jeans policy, got it?” 

“Oh, fuck off. I’ll see you tomorrow night, freak.” He laughs, and you return it, “Yeah! See you then, music man.” 

You hang up and set your phone aside before picking up your bottle of top coat. Mentally, you are already planning what you are going to wear. The next day, work passes by quickly, made easier now that you have something exciting to look forward to. You get home that afternoon and head straight to your room to get ready for dinner with a hop in your step. 

Erik’s day is decidedly less breezy. He has a cancellation at work, which is annoying enough. Then on his way home, he gets caught in a rainstorm for the second time in a row. However, this time he’s also without an umbrella. Once he is home, he heads straight to the bathroom to shower. Now, he’s stuck in front of his open closet, debating what to wear tonight. He doesn’t want to underdress, and have you give him shit; or overdress and have you give him shit. In either case, he’ll look stupid. 

He makes a disgusted sound as he mentally berates himself while flipping through his shirts. He’s just making this more complicated than it needs to be, he thinks while shaking his head. It’s just dinner with you! It’s fine! This will all be fine. He needs to stop overthinking it. 

Once he has finally decided on the appropriate attire, he gets dressed and heads downstairs, making sure to close his bedroom door like usual. As he makes his way down the stairs, he smoothes his hands over his pockets, feeling his wallet and phone, but no keys. Fuck. Where did he leave his keys? Did he drop them? He inspects the hall table and when he comes up empty, he walks down the hall to check the kitchen. Big mistake.

Unfortunately, Julia is in the kitchen, whom he has been expressly trying to avoid. She’s leaning on the counter, her phone in one hand, a half-eaten apple in the other. Without looking up from her phone, she comments, “It finally stopped raining.” She’s dressed for a run, clearly planning to take advantage of the clear sky. 

“Thank fucking God for that. Have you seen my keys?” He asks as he starts to scan the kitchen counters, “No, I havennn’t-” She pauses as looks up from her phone to address him fully, until she notices, “-Oh, what are you so dressed up for?” 

Shit. He sighs, but in his rush to escape this interaction, he stupidly admits, “I’m going out for dinner.” He walks around her and starts lifting random items strewn about in search of his keys. Why is the kitchen such a mess right now?

She pockets her phone, finding the current conversation much more interesting. She has an extremely curious smile on her face as she observes him. After a beat, she asks, “Looking like that?” 

Erik adopts an annoyed tone he often uses with his younger siblings, “Yes? Seriously, where are my keys?” 

Julia crunches down on her apple and gives a few considering chews before she addresses the elephant in the room, “Do you have a date, Kiki?”

“For fuckssake! No! It’s not a date.” He stops his search and looks at her, to see her staring him down with a self-satisfied smile. The silence hangs as she takes another bite of her apple, the sound of her crunches filling the space between them. Finally, she replies, “Sure. I believe you.” 

No, she doesn’t, he can tell. This is so annoying, it really isn’t a date. It’s just dinner between friends. Yeah, friends who fuck each other stupid as often as their schedules allow. The thought pops into his head before he immediately swats it away.

Erik breaks their eye contact to lift the fruit bowl, as if it was plausible enough to assume his keys would be under it, for some reason. Julia suggests, “Did you… leave them in your jacket?”

Fuck, he is pretty sure she is right as he turns towards the hall again. He rolls his eyes as he walks to the front door, annoyed that he could have avoided this entire interaction with Julia. He stops at the coat rack, fumbling through the pockets of his jacket, and letting out a sigh of frustration and relief at the feeling of his house keys as he pulls them out. Erik pockets them but just as he is about to leave, Julia suddenly appears behind him, the conversation clearly not over for her, “Told you so.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” He brushes her off, opening the door and heading outside, but she follows close behind him. Julia speaks up again as she closes the door, “So who are you having dinner with?”

Erik half-jogs down the steps toward the sidewalk, snapping over his shoulder, “None of your fucking business, Jules.”

“Touchy, touchy.” She sighs, and he can practically hear her roll her eyes as she trails behind him. “Whatever. Have fun on your not-a-date that’s none of my business.” 

“Even if I do, you definitely won’t be the first to know.” Erik reaches the sidewalk while Julia stays at the edge of the lawn to do her pre-run stretches. She calls out after him, “Byeee.” 

You and Erik had agreed to meet at Angelo’s, so you made sure to leave with more than enough time to get there. You are about two blocks away when Erik texts you, “I’m here. Waiting at the bar.” 

You tap out your reply quickly, “Be there soon.” 

Whether you pick up the pace to get to the restaurant faster out of excitement or punctuality, that’s your business. When you arrive, you take a moment to check your reflection in the front window to make sure not even one hair is out of place. Reassured, you head inside.

You are greeted by the hostess with a simple, “Good evening and welcome. Do you have a reservation?” 

“I do not, but my friend is already here at the bar.” The hostess gestures to the left at your words, “Of course, go ahead.” 

With a polite nod, you step away from the podium, taking the direction she indicated and head towards the bar. With a quick scan, your eyes land on Erik. As you approach, you think about the fact that he was in your position all those months ago, walking right towards you. Although he didn’t realize it back then, the parallels are not lost on you. Life is funny that way, lining up two seemingly minor events and synchronising them almost to the letter. His back is to you, facing the bar, so you sneak up on him easily. When you are close enough, you rest your hand on his shoulder, leaning to the left of him just as his head turns in your direction. Your eyes meet and you can’t help but smile as you greet him, “Hey music man.” 

He returns your smile. Then, just as the bartender comes by to ask if you need a drink, he greets you, showcasing his impeccable timing once again. “At last the freak has arrived.” 

It feels as though everything slows to a stop for a minute. You both know that he heard it. You glance at the bartender, who is poorly schooling his expression of genuine confusion over what he just heard. You barely manage to stifle your laugh before answering, “I’ll need a minute with the drink menu, thank you.” 

“Right, let me know.” He steps away, seemingly glad for a prompt reprieve from the awkward moment. You step beside Erik to settle yourself on the stool next to him, and when you look at him again, you comment, smirking at his mildly pained expression, “Really smooth there.” 

“Gee, thanks.” He snarks before sighing out, “This is so unfair.” You know just what he means. You can call him ‘music man’ so easily without raising an eyebrow, but when he calls you ‘freak’, it isn’t taken quite as lightly where strangers are concerned. You playfully remind him, “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who came up with the nickname.” 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not your fault.” Erik may be a pretty unashamed guy, but even he can admit there is a time and place. And being on a very public outing at this rather upscale restaurant is most certainly not the time nor the place. 

Now that your eyes are settled on Erik anyway, you notice he’s looking pretty great tonight. You leisurely take in his attire; His matching black pants and blazer; His midnight blue dress shirt with a few buttons undone and no tie, allowing a small peek at his tattoos; His usual bedhead neatly combed. Honestly, this look fits him and suits him unfairly well.

Your hand slides down his arm, the texture of the fabric feeling very nice under your fingertips. You praise, “Umm, wow! Where’d you pull this out from? The fit is great.” 

He seems to brighten when you say that, preening as he adjusts his jacket, “Thank you. I told you I have other shit in my closet.” 

You laugh, hand falling away as you lean one elbow against the bar. You say, “And now I believe you.” 

You set your clutch down in favour of snatching up the bar menu, your eyes scanning over the options. While you are distracted, Erik gets his first real look at you; From your pointed heels to your fitted knee-length dress with an off-the-shoulder cut that shows off your shoulders nicely; Your meticulously styled hair and makeup. Jesus. Compared to what you wore to your friend’s birthday party, this one knocks it out of the park. His eyes trace along your curves greedily, curious as to what you’re wearing underneath, if anything. Knowing you, either option is just as plausible. His attention is drawn back to your face when you speak, “How’s the drink you got?”

He glances down at the cocktail that sits at his elbow, and he says, “Oh, it’s good.”

“May I?” You ask as you lean over, hand out, and he nudges it closer for you to take it. He watches you take a sip, and then you hum pleasantly, “Very nice.” You look over to the bartender confidently gesturing to the glass, and stating, “I’ll have one of these please.” 

He nods and sets to work fixing your drink as you lean back on your stool. Erik speaks up, “You look great too, by the way.” 

You smile and turn to him slightly, chirping out, “Thank you.” 

He just stares at you. God. He cannot stop fucking staring at you tonight. What is up with him? You don’t seem to notice anything amiss as you prompt him, “So, what is going on with our table?”

“Will be ready soon, at least that’s what I was told shortly before you got here.” He assures you, just as your drink is placed in front of you. He adds, “Well, for now, drinks.” 

Your hand closes around the glass, lifting it to his, “To a great night?” Clinking glasses with yours, he confirms, “To a great night.” 

You both take a sip, enjoying the sweet, citrusy cocktail. Perfect for summer. “You know what’s funny?” You ask with a smile and consider him curiously. He responds, “What?” 

“Happy accident, but my nails match your shirt.” You hold your hand out to show them off, the deep blue color with flecks of silver glitter sparkling in the accent lighting. Hmm, yeah it is kind of funny isn’t it? At least, it sure is making him feel funny. He tries not to focus on how much he likes the fact that you unintentionally matched with him. He opts instead to casually compliment you. “It’s a great colour on you.” 

You are quick to reciprocate, voicing similar sentiments with no hesitation. “You stole the words right out of my mouth! Seriously, Erik. That shirt? You look good when you branch out from all the blacks and greys.” You pick up your drink and take another sip, and what is he meant to do with that? He is used to the jokes you both throw back and forth, and it isn’t like you never compliment each other, you do. It’s just that the compliments you’ve thrown around were usually way more risque in nature than this. Now this is different. There was neither comedic bite, nor lustful innuendo accompanying your words; Just a sweet, genuine and honest compliment.

Thankfully, Erik has no time to think of a response because just as you set your drink down, the hostess makes it over to your side of the bar. She lets you know your table is ready and leads you over. Erik has to admit, the outdoor patio is just as you described; very lovely with wrought iron patio furniture and soft sting lighting all setting a very warm, inviting atmosphere. Unlike the beloved diner you both enjoy, the tables here are spaced out to allow a bit of privacy. You can definitely tell that this is a much more intimate, romantic setting, usually reserved for special occasions, or in your case; a way to blow all Erik’s money in one night, or try to at least.

Once you’ve both sat down, setting your drinks on the table, you look through the menu, “So. I already know I have to get one of the pastas, but what about you?” 

“Not quite sure yet.” Erik hums as he starts to scan the menu. Excitedly, you suggest, “Oooh, what if we both decide on two pastas that look the best, and then share them?” 

“Sharing food? You must really want everyone to think this is a date, afterall.” He quips and you laugh. “You wish.” 

Peering over the top of your menu, you proceed to say, “And what is the big deal about sharing food? Remember when we were having our last marathon sesh to beat that game? I literally held pizza to your mouth so you could eat while you played!” 

“To be fair, that was a joke I made, and you decided to run with it.” He defends himself before deflecting, “Who says I want pasta, anyway?”

“Me, Erik. I says.” You look back down at your menu, “Besides, like almost half the menu is pasta.” 

“And I’m going to pick from the other half just to spite you.” He teases, and you sigh with a shrug of your shoulders, “If you want to commit yourself to a lesser meal, don’t let me stand in your way.” 

You both fall silent for a moment as you seriously consider what to order. Then you speak up suddenly, breaking the silence, “When was the last time you went on a date?”

Aren’t you full of surprises tonight? He was not expecting that question at all. He asks, “Why do you want to know?”

“Call me a curious party.” You turn the page, still half debating on your entrée. “Fucking nosy is more like it-” He starts, and you cut him off as you close your menu, “Why are you being so cagey? It’s an easy question, Erik.” 

“I’m not being cagey, I’m just doing what we always do.” He tries to rationalize as he keeps his eyes on the menu. “But fine. It’s been a while.” 

“And a while is… how long exactly?” You ask, and he answers, “The last date I had was before we started talking, I suppose.”

“Wow! You know, I was gonna mention we’ve been doing this whole thing for five months.” That finally has him meeting your eyes again. “Really?”

“Just shy of three texting and the rest in person, yeah. It’s true.” You nod and continue, “Why has it been so long since you’ve gone on a date?”

“I’ve just been busy with work, friends, and family. Not to mention what a fucking handful you are…” You grin cheekily at that, finding his words endearing, and just might be the best compliment he could give. “ Add everything together, and it eats up a lot of my time.” He concludes before turning it on you, “What about you, hm? When was the last time you went on a date?”

Busted. The last date you had was well before Erik came into your life. You’ve been so satisfied with your dynamic that you felt neither the need nor the want to pursue anybody else. You decide to be honest, “About the same as you.”

He laughs, “Oh, and you’re giving me shit? That’s rich. So, what’s your reasoning for your dating drought, exactly?”

Using his same reasoning, you divulge, “Just been busy.” You pick up your drink, bringing it up to your mouth as you say, “I’ve had much more interesting things holding my attention lately, so dating hasn’t really been on my mind.”

Erik wonders if he is counted under, “more interesting things.” But he quickly banishes the thought of asking, figuring it would come off as needy if he did. You elaborate anyway, “I went out for drinks with some friends the other night, and one of them pressed me on how long it’d been. So, it got me thinking about it.”

Ahh, so that’s why you’re bringing it up now, that makes more sense. “When I told her how long it’s been she was all like-” You change your voice, doing an impression of this girl Erik has never met, “-‘oh my God, I should set you up with this guy I know! You’d totally get along’-” 

Erik didn’t expect that, honestly. The thought of you dressed up like this, at some other nice restaurant, and flirting in that way you do with who knows who seemed almost wrong to him for some reason. He should be indifferent to the idea, and yet it was somehow putting him off. You are laughing over the ridiculousness of your brief impression, while he’s more preoccupied with the odd pang in his stomach. Is he getting nauseous?

He forces out his next sentence, “What did you say to that?”

You are still laughing at the very idea, before saying, “I said no! She has terrible taste in guys! Going on a blind date set up by her sounds like fucking Hell on Earth. But she’s a good friend, so I was nice about it when I shut her down.” 

He’s relieved at your words, and that is concerning in itself. Why should he care if you go on a date with someone? These emotions stirring in him over a hypothetical situation is confusing to say the least. You look up and smile at the waiter as he arrives to greet you both.“Good evening-” 

When he starts listing off the specials, Erik isn’t listening. He’s still staring down at the menu, rereading the same words but not really comprehending them. His brain is scrambled, struggling to process this new revelation. When did he start giving a shit if you were going on dates? He needs to get a hold of himself. It’s just the day he’s had that’s put him in this weird headspace; It has to be. Erik has been dying to see you again for weeks, and he feels like he is wasting the precious time he has with you now, by overthinking. He should just enjoy the here and now. 

You say his name, and his head raises to see you looking curiously at him. His hearing kicks in again just as the waiter asks, “Do you need more time with the menu?”

He has literally no clue what he wants yet, so he agrees, “Uh yes, please. Sorry.” 

“No need to apologize sir, I’ll be back soon.” He walks off, and as soon as he’s out of ear shot you pipe up, “Are you alright, Erik?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why?” He asks, as if he’d not just been dissecting his every thought just now, and hiding it poorly no doubt. You explain, “You just seem miles away is all.” 

“I had a rough day today, but trust me, this is helping.” You are looking in his eyes, as if searching for a sign of dishonesty. When you find nothing out of the ordinary, you drop it, and instead work to boost the mood. “Well, I think I might have a good distraction then… If you’ll indulge me.” 

He is already interested. You are always full of fun, exciting ideas. He asks, “What did you have in mind?”

You lean a little closer, elbows on the table, as you indulge him with a smile, “Going back to what we were talking about earlier. Since I am ‘such a handful’ and ‘take up so much of your time’, I’d hate for your dating skills to get rusty. So what if we practice right now?” 

His brow creases, arms crossed over his menu on the table as he verifies, “What? Act like this is a date?” 

You shrug as you confirm, “Why not? This is the perfect way to practice, pressure free!” 

You haven’t steered him wrong yet. With a nod, he follows one simple line of thinking that you are a big fan of; One that hasn’t led either of you astray in your current dynamic.“Don’t overthink. Just do.” He also can’t think of any real reason to refuse. 

“Fuck it. Sure, why not?” He agrees, what has he got to lose? You look giddy as you exclaim, “Yes! Now pick what you are getting already. Then, after we order we can start.” 

A few minutes later, the waiter came to take your orders. You ask for this stupidly rich ricotta stuffed ravioli in rose’ sauce, and Erik opts for an order of the chicken piccata. The waiter runs off and Erik isn’t sure how to start, but thankfully you jump right in no problem. “So! You’re a tattoo artist?”

He can’t help the small laugh he lets out, he sits back in his chair and says, “I am. Forgive me, but what do you do again?”

“Oh, my job isn’t as interesting as yours-” You try to deflect. He plays his part and doesn’t let you, “No, no, tell me about it. I want to know.” 

You explain to him, “Not much to tell. I kinda fell ass-backwards into it. I do this really mind-numbing job, it’s essentially data entry, I take numbers from one spot and move them to another.” 

As a follow up he inquires, “If it’s so boring, why do you do it?”

You sigh before elaborating, “Because for such a boring job, it pays stupidly well; Much better than it should. It’s easy and gives good benefits. It isn’t what I want to do forever, but for now it’s good enough; comfortable even.” It’s true. It’s very hard to seriously consider leaving when they practically throw money at you to work a job most people don’t have the resolve to do long-term. 

“So, what do you want to do in the future?” He asks, and you hum, stirring your drink with your straw, “Something less boring for hopefully comparable money.” 

“Real dreamer, aren’t you? Lofty goals?” He teases, prompting you to tell, “I’ve got lots of dreams, just none focused on work.” You indulge in a sip of your cocktail before saying, “I don’t buy into the idea that everyone has a dream career or needs to be totally in love with their job. Sometimes it’s just about a paycheck. I get my fulfillment elsewhere in my life.” 

“You know, I have to say I can see what you mean.” He admits, and you continue, “Yeah? Some people act like their work is their entire life and their whole reason for being, and I just can’t get behind that.” 

“Exactly, there is so much more to life.” He agrees. You take the opportunity to segue, “What else is important in your life?”

He confesses, “Some people might think it’s corny as fuck, but… My family.” 

“Yeah? Tell me about them.” You have heard bits and pieces from him; gathered context clues over the past few months. However, he hasn’t really talked openly and candidly about them. Shockingly, it actually doesn’t come up much when you’re hanging out and especially not when you’re fucking. 

“I’m the oldest. I have two siblings, in the middle is Julia and the youngest is Bobby.” He starts, and you press, “So what are they like?”

He immediately starts filling you in, “Julia is into fitness and fashion, she’s really into music too, but almost none of our genres overlap. She’s scarily smart; I listen whenever she talks about her major and I think I get it, but some of it is way out of my depth.” 

“Wow! She sounds pretty cool, honestly.” You reply, and he replies, recalling his earlier interaction with her as he says, “She is… Whenever she isn’t being majorly annoying and nosy.” 

You smile at his classic sibling behaviour, but his tone still holds a lot of obvious love and care behind it. You press him for more, “What about Bobby?” 

“He’s really sweet. But because of that, sometimes I worry about him.” He sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at that, “Why?”

“He’s soft in a way that some people mistake for weakness, and teenage guys can be real assholes, you know?” He gestures with one hand as he expounds, “I trust him, it’s the fucking people who give him shit that I worry about.” 

Hearing him talk about this is pretty heartwarming. He carries on, “We play video games together, sometimes. He’s really into animals too, he has this little pet turtle named Paco and I hear him talking to him sometimes when I go by his room.”

You knew family was important to him. He was almost always doing something with them, but you’re only just starting to get the whole picture. You conclude, “Sounds like you’d really go to bat for either of them.” 

“Without question, and I have.” He admits, and you ask playfully, “You get into a lot of fist fights over them?”

“A few more scrapes than I’d care to admit. Once it got so bad, my mom made me promise to cool off.” Erik laughs in equal parts embarrassment and pride, as you inquire, “And did you?”

“I did. Can’t tell you the last time I had to punch someone.” You laugh along with him. He shifts to you, “So, what about your family?” 

You proceed to tell him as the food arrives, expounding on your family and whom you are close to. Admitting that you haven’t lived here your whole life either. Instead you were raised in a different town a couple of hours from here. You had done the whole ‘moving away for school’ thing, got a job in town, and settled down pretty comfortably for the past few years. You continue to chat about how you enjoyed the area, agreeing that you both wouldn’t stray far for the foreseeable future; Erik for family reasons, and you for the sake of convenience and genuine happiness for where you are right now.

When your food arrives, you graciously let him have some of your pasta. You notice the mild regret bloom on his face as he chews, and you tilt your head at the dish, “So?” 

With a hand over his mouth and a fond roll of his eyes, he concedes, “Okay, okay, I probably should have gotten some pasta.” 

With a shake of your head, you say, “I told you. Well Hey! This just gives us an excuse to come back again sometime.” 

He teases you over the suggestion, “Planning a second date before the first one is even over? Awfully hasty of you, hm?” You chuckle and own it, “What can I say? I’m a person who goes after what she wants, and this is a pretty good first date so far.” 

He nods in agreement before joking, “You gonna buy next time?” 

“Hmmm, sure. I mean fair is fair.” As you skewer another piece of ravioli, you add, “Next time the waiter stops by, we should ask for a dessert menu.” 

Of course, you’d want dessert. With your sweet tooth, he expects nothing less.

The rest of dinner passes easily after that; more questions thrown back and forth, touching on deeper topics than you have over the previous five months. It’s refreshing, and long overdue. You are visibly relaxed, having gained a higher degree of familiarity and understanding of each other over the course of dinner, strengthening your friendship overall. Your flirting ramped up at the same time, as it usually does, and it’s most certainly a welcome accompaniment to a lovely night out.

Soon enough you are looking at the dessert menu. The fact that they have house made gelato jumps out at you the most, and you simply cannot pass it up. Erik chooses dark chocolate, and you go with lemon cream. It comes out fairly quick and while you are digging in, Erik rattles off a fitting question, “What’s your favourite dessert?”

“Oh my God, great question!” You praise before diving in to explain, “I love a warm, rich chocolate fudge brownie topped with GOOD vanilla ice cream; Add on a little whipped cream and some caramel sauce? UGH, to die for. The flavours play off each other so, so well. I could eat it anytime.” You sigh happily. It’s a classic, which lends to the fact that most places have it on offer in some way, shape, or form. 

Erik comments, “And you pick the one restaurant in town that doesn’t have that on the menu?” 

With a laugh, you say, “I didn’t pick here for the dessert, I picked it for everything else! I must admit though, this is good gelato.” 

He nods as he scoops up another spoonful, humming in agreement, “It is.” 

You watch as he indulges in another spoonful before asking, “What about you? What’s your favourite dessert?” 

Erik sucks on the spoon before pulling it out of his mouth and pointing it at you. “Coconut cream cake with a twist. My mom makes it with lime zest.” 

Not what you were expecting, but a delicious choice all the same. You can picture the rich soft cake flecked with light zesty green throughout, “That sounds so good. I’ll have to try making it sometime.” 

“Oh, you bake?” He asks, still pretending this is a first date. You laugh, “Yes, I do. I love to bake. In fact, I just made some millionaires shortbread the other day. You should come back to my place for some.” 

He smiles as he responds, “Two desserts in one night? Pretty indulgent.” You have a third in mind too, and that flirty tone he is using tells you that he’s thinking the exact same.

When the check comes, Erik pays, assuring you he’s happy to cover it this time, and you thank him again as you leave. The walk back to your place is filled with more light conversation, and you even reach out to hold his hand. You realize that you haven’t done this since that first night you led him back to yours. You both engage in plenty of physical affection, but not this. Normally it feels too couple-y. You tell yourself you are just extending the ‘practice date’ bit, and you almost believe it. His fingers twine with yours without hesitation, quelling your thoughts and providing a welcome calm to wash over you. Arriving at the lobby of your building, you take the usual elevator ride up to the fifth floor. 

You unlock your front door, but don’t open it, opting instead to lean against the door frame, looking back at Erik expectantly. You mutter softly, “Sooo, this is me-”

He is close but somehow still too far for your liking. His hands are in his pockets, still playing the part, as he responds, “I had a good time tonight.” 

“Me too. We should do it again sometime.” You sigh, and he nods, a lull forming between you. He appears to be contemplating something, as if deciding on whether to go through with it or not. Finally, he slips a hand out of his pocket, balling it into a fist, and lightly bumping your shoulder with it. After his playful punch connects, he quickly chirps, “Well! Good night.”

He turns to leave without another word, and your jaw drops. He can’t get more than half way back to the elevator before laughing, breaking at the comedic timing of the offended noise you let out in response to his actions. Erik turns back to you, lightly jogging back to your door. Looking less than impressed, you intone, “Fucking hilarious, Erik.” 

“Couldn’t pass it up. That was too funny.” He confesses with a grin. You reach for the doorknob, simultaneously your other hand miming jerking off, “Yeah maybe you can yuk it up out here in the hallway, while I go inside and eat those cookies by myse-” He chooses that exact moment to lean down and kiss you, effectively cutting off your vague threat. 

He presses you up against the door, invading your senses and leaving you helpless. You melt against him, along with your mild annoyance. It feels fitting, Considering the fact that you initiated your actual first kiss, it feels fitting for him to take the lead for this fun hypothetical first date. You kiss him back, slow and methodical, losing yourself in him like you would a favourite song. He pulls back, and you take that as a cue to bring your hand up to the door knob behind you to open the door. He wastes no time backing you into your apartment, the front door left open in his haste.

Erik presses you against the nearest wall, his hands gripping firmly on your waist and his mouth crashing into yours again. It was like that kiss outside woke him up, reminded him just how much he had been missing you over these few weeks. The frantic, pure unadulterated need in his movements throws you back to the night you met in person. Jesus Christ. Your head is spinning as you kiss him back, the bite he delivers to your bottom lip shocking you into further action. Your hands tug him closer, and then his mouth starts to move, pressing hurried kisses over your jaw and neck. His hands slide over your hips as his mouth ventures lower, your breath hitching when his lips brush your collarbone. 

“It’s been too long-” He plants kisses down your chest as he murmurs, “-have to fucking taste you.” You pulse at his words, rendered delirious at his desperation, and yet you still retain the forethought to kick your foot out and close the front door, your hand fumbling until finally twisting the lock into place. 

He is on his knees in front of you, and what a fucking view he presents you with. His fingers hook on the hem of your dress, and push it up. When the black fabric is bunched up out of the way, he notices something, your eyes falling down to him just in time to catch his reaction to your little surprise. You see the shift in his eyes and the flick of his tongue over his lips. He lets out a breathless laugh before exclaiming, “My God, you’re wearing this shit under your dress on the first date? You slut!” 

You chuckle heartily as you note, “That’s a new name.” You like the sound of the word on his lips, his tongue wrapping around the single syllable so deliciously, emphasizing the ‘t’ at the end wickedly.

“Deserved! I mean, look at this.” His fingers trace over the edge of one of the impractical straps barely holding up the crotchless panties you have on. The lacy, black fabric wraps around your hips and ass, leaving your cunt beautifully bare, like a debauched picture frame. You confess, “I saw them the other day and thought you’d like ‘em.” 

“I do-” He leans in, his tongue swipes up through your folds and the quick shock of pleasure cuts right through you. If you didn’t lock your knees quickly, you would have been thrown on your ass, leaning against the wall or not. He finishes his original thought, “-I especially like how they don’t get in the way.” 

He was downplaying how much this was affecting him for sure. The fact that you bought lingerie specifically for him, and have been wearing them under your dress all night is insanely hot. Erik hopes this becomes a trend, and he can’t wait to see what you buy next. Perhaps some encouragement on that front is in order. Leaning back in, he runs his tongue over you again, slower this time. He repeats the action over and over, drawing a deliciously pathetic sounding moan from you. He is able to stimulate your clit like this just fine, but he wants to go deeper to really taste you. His hands slip down between your legs, the backs of his hands press on your inner thighs, encouraging you to spread your legs wider to give him more access. You quietly attempt to explain, “Erik, I’m already worried I’ll lose my balance if you try to do this while I’m still standing.” 

“Gotcha.” He grips your hips and rocks backwards onto his heels, he tips his head back and starts to pull you nearer. You quickly pick up on what he wants, laughing breathlessly as you ask, “Here?”

“Right here.” He confirms confidently with a nod, and you let him lead. He lays down on his back in the middle of your hallway and helps you down, until your knees are on either side of his head. 

Christ! You wish you could just freeze this moment in time and commit this to memory; Him in this fancy outfit, splayed out on your floor, face buried between your legs. The erotic, all-consuming image has you quaking already. You lower yourself the rest of the way and settle yourself to sit on his face. His hands remain planted firmly on your hips as he leans up to taste you again. His tongue passes over your hole and God, it makes his eyes want to roll back in his head. You taste so good he just can’t help himself. He’s been waiting long enough, left starving and needy for you for way too long. He’ll stay down here and savor you until he’s sufficiently made up for the lost time.

He loses himself in it, head blissfully empty, tongue lapping at your straining clit and ears zeroing in on the chorus of your moans as he eats you out. Erik has eaten you out plenty of times, he insists on it more often than not, but you don’t think you will ever get used to how good it feels. He just puts everything he has into it, and knowing how enthusiastic he is allows you to really let loose and enjoy it. You can hear how much he loves getting you off, he is certainly not quiet about it while eating you out with gusto.

His hands grip your ass, fingers slipping under the caged back of your panties as he encourages you to move. He moans wetly against you, mildly begging, “C’mon, you said you wanted to ride my face.”  

Fuck, you sure did. You are struggling to hang on as a fresh wave of arousal grips you so tightly it could crush your ribs. You listen, squirming your hips as you grind down on his lips and tongue. You grasp the nearby hall table with one hand, while the other slides into his hair, grabbing a fistful. 

You tug on his hair in that way he loves, he winces and furrows his brows in response, encouraging him to double his efforts. His lips latch onto your clit, and he sucks; the jolt of sensation has you reeling and gasping out his name. There is no real discernible rhythm at first, but with his guiding hands and steady mouth helping you, you find it. You slide against him, you are not gentle as you keep your hold on his hair and fuck his face. He devours you with a messy passion that has you struggling for breathe, nails biting into the wood of the table. You are unbelievably tense, and he certainly isn’t helping when he makes those sounds against you.

The past three weeks without him tangled in your bedsheets, craving him in this exact position while lying awake at night. You’d clench around your toys, filling yourself at the thought of him between your thighs wrapping his stupidly soft pink lips around your clit. But the fantasy, no matter how many toys you use, could never compare to this. His tongue circles once, twice, three times before pulling off of you with a wet smack of his lips. He’s back on you immediately. You adore how he does this, his movements along your cunt reminiscent of a filthy tongue kiss. From the slight scraping of his facial hair and the occasional nip of teeth to the constant and consistent passes of his tongue, the sensations flooding your senses has you so far gone.

You are not going to last at this rate. Erik can feel every twitch and throb with his tongue right against your clit, your moans increasing in frequency and pitch. He knows you are close. He coaxes you along, hands planted on your ass as your movements become more erratic. 

Your voice is shaky as you breathe out his name. It’s the best warning you can bestow before the pleasure boils over and you cum right on his tongue. You are panting out an approximation of his name and the word “-yes-” repeatedly, rolling your hips fluidly and perfectly, so as to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible. Your sweaty hand slips from the table, and you pitch forward. Thanking God for the good grip he has, Erik helps keep you upright as the pleasure starts to ebb. When the high subsides, you lift yourself up, trembling and trying to regain your breath. 

After taking a few deep lungfuls of air, you utter, “Ho-holy shit, Erik.” 

You let go of his hair, glancing down at him as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. The lower half of his face is wet with your slick, panting through parted lips, and looking as wrecked as you feel. His hair more closely resembles its usual messiness under your roaming hands and writhing hips. He utters amusedly, with a half smile, “Seemed like a good one.”

You exhale through your nose, before saying, “Fu-fuck, understatement of the century.” You are still shivering, and you admit, “I actually th-ink I need to lay down?” 

“Here, I gotcha.” He helps you ease down, letting you take the place he had. You try to steady yourself, pressing your palms to your eyes to relieve the dizziness. You take more deep breaths as he chimes in, “You alright?”

A beat passes before you firmly nod, “Yeah. Yeah, I feel better alre-" Your sentence dies on your tongue as you drop your hands from your eyes to see he’s stripped his blazer. You watch his hand flex, squeezing his erection through his unbuttoned slacks, as he explains, “They were gettin’ pretty tight. Needed some relief.” 

“You could just take them off.” You offer, and he hums, “Sure, soon. Right now I just-” His eyes drop between your thighs again, licking his lips. He ducks down, rushing out, “-I gotta keep going, okay? I can’t help it, here-” 

He suddenly pulls you closer, your back slipping on the hardwood. You exclaim, “Woah! Erik-” 

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and his mouth is back on your oversensitive cunt, your back arching at the sudden contact. You cry out, barely protesting and definitely failing to hide how good it feels. He starts really gently, easing you back into it as best he can. Your hips jerk from the almost painful jolts of stimulation, but it slowly melts back into ecstasy again. You are staring up at the ceiling, hands flattened against the floor near your hips and trying to comprehend the fact that he’s working you up to a second orgasm less than three minutes after your first. 

He lifts his lips briefly to ask you, “Can you arch your hips for a second?” Your brows knit together in silent question but you comply anyway. However, you don’t have to wait long to get your answer. Two of his fingers prod at your drenched entrance before smoothly sliding in. 

You moan out, “Oh fuck-” And your head tips back against the hardwood, and he murmurs against your clit, “Thanks.” 

A broken moan slips past your parted lips. The build up is quicker but somehow more torturous to your second climax of the night. It is just so blindingly intense, his warm, slick tongue sliding over your throbbing clit and his fingers hooking internally to abuse your G-spot. The only words of encouragement you manage to moan out every so often are, “God, Er-Erik-” 

Your heel digs into his back uncomfortably, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and in fact seems quite comfortable sprawled on the hallway floor like this. To be fair, considering how phenomenal Erik is making you feel on said floor right now, you aren’t really complaining either. His movements turn messier, needier, making this even hotter. 

His ramped up pace is launching you closer to the edge. You feel this odd kind of pressure building along with your orgasm; Not a bad feeling, just different, the intensity kicking up a notch with every press of his fingers inside you. Your body is reacting on instinct, tense and working back against his mouth and fingers. All too soon, you are painfully close. You find your words this time, “Er-Erik I’m gonna, ah!” 

Then what happens next surprises you both. You cum pretty explosively, which is to be expected, but it is also accompanied by an ample gush as you ride your high, cursing and moaning throughout. If your ears weren’t ringing so hard, you might have caught the moan of surprise Erik let out as you soaked his face. 

The unfamiliar sensation permeates your whole body, lingering as if seeping deep into the marrow of your bones. His mouth and fingers leave your body as your ears stop ringing and your hearing returns. You are still not all there yet, the occasional twitch wracking your body as the aftershocks wear off. Erik moves your leg off his shoulder and sits up, bewildered as he swipes some of your wetness off his mouth, stating, “I didn’t know you could do that.” 

With your hand against your forehead, you can’t help but laugh, admitting, “Up until a minute ago, I didn’t know I could do that either.” 

You see that wolfish grin spread across his face, and he reaches down, fingers drag up through your soaked folds. You want to squirm away, but thankfully, the touch is quick. His fingers run over his tongue, tasting you again before commenting, “Oh, we are gonna have sooo much fun with this.” 

Fuck, he’s like a kid in a candy store right now, and you know he is gonna wear this out. You wouldn’t dream of complaining though, that felt amazing, even if it did make quite the mess. You consider investing in new towels when he’s suddenly on top of you, leaning down to pull you into a rather sloppy make out. The taste of you on his lips is driving you crazy all over again. If you don’t stop him now, you might not be able to stop again. You pull back from the kiss to request, “Can we get off the wet floor now?”

He agrees before getting up, and pulling you to your feet. You abandon your heels in the hallway and he helps you to the bedroom, your legs are still unsure under you. Once there, you strip out of your dress, ordering him, “Clothes off, I’m gonna suck your dick while I recover enough for you to fuck me.” 

“You’ve got it all planned out, huh?” He muses as he starts taking off his shirt. You laugh lightly, assuring him, “Trust me, I need the break, you just nearly killed me out there.” 

Soon enough, you are kneeling on the soft carpet, leaning on your crossed arms and resting on the bed. You watch him with a soft, fucked out smile on your face as he finishes stripping off his clothes. You look very happy. It’s hard to pick his favourite expression of yours, but this one comes pretty close to perfect. 

He gets onto the bed, and you adjust, settling yourself between his spread thighs. Your hand wraps around the base of him and you lean in, tongue flicking over his piercing. God. You savour the heady taste of him as his cock weighs heavily on your tongue. You take your time, wanting to give yourself more headspace to focus on his pleasure now. Also, the reactions you draw from him are too satisfying to ignore. After the longest three weeks of your life, you have been aching to feel him in your mouth again. Wrapping your lips around his tip, you suck lightly, and his fingers dig into your comforter. His head tips back with a groan, insanely hard from all the build up and the squirming you did on his tongue earlier. 

At first, you take it easy on him, keeping a light pace and a loose grip, but the energy of the night is quickly catching up with you both. His pretty moans encourage you to stroke faster, suck harder, and take him deeper. You extend it for a few more minutes; going unbelievably slow, then taking him all the way in and out of your mouth in a fluid motion over and over again. He is struggling to hold it together now. It’s obvious from the way his hand settles on your head, moving his hips in time with your mouth and panting out your name beautifully. Every time you take him halfway in, his hips buck up, and you have to suppress a gag. 

By the fifth pass over his cock, he’s ordering you abruptly, “Get up here.” 

You don’t fight him on it, wouldn’t dream of denying you both of what you desperately want. 

You allow him to pull you along, and he obliges, laying you on your back, and situating himself on top of you. You spread your legs, knees bent and feet finding purchase on your sheets. He slots himself against your body, chest to chest, as he kisses you again. Your tongue parts his lips as he moans into your eager mouth and grinds against you in a hypnotizing rhythm that makes you even more desperate to be filled by him. Your hand slides down to line him up, and when he finally pushes into you, it clicks. 

Somehow, the entire time you’ve been together, you’ve never fucked in this position. You’ve ridden him several times; He’s ruined you from behind both face down ass up, and bent over furniture; You’ve even fucked once or twice while spooning on your couch. But face to face like this? Not once. You are at a loss as to why.

It hadn’t been on purpose, at least you don’t think. Usually, in the heat of the moment you don’t give it much thought. You both simply ended up in whatever position that felt natural and easy in that moment. 

He slides all the way in, eliciting a moan out of you both, muffled by your ongoing kiss. Your hands are on his shoulders and his hands are pressed into the sheets on either side of you. You break the kiss with another moan, head to the pillows as he starts to move. Most of your hook-ups have been rough and quick. Others were lazier, easier, but that isn’t the right way to describe tonight, either. It’s different, more intentional. All the jokes, dirty talk, and kinky fanfare that normally filled the silence before is replaced with your indulgent moans of pleasure.  isn’t about fucking in and out as hard as possible at a brutal pace, this is much more of a slow whole body grind. The stimulation felt both inside and out is about as perfect as can be. You can’t help but think that this is startlingly intimate. Is it the eye contact you’re holding? Or the ample skin to skin contact? You have neither the motivation, nor the brainpower to think it over right now.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts, your minds clouded by the kisses, the wandering hands and the movements of your bodies sliding against each other in tandem. As your fingers pass over his skin shakily, extended kisses and quiet exclamations are exchanged, but all mutual attempts to convey the extent of your combined pleasure fall short. You both fail at doing it justice, and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier to fail at something. You don’t cum again, but you don’t really need to. This feels amazing enough as is, with or without the proper words to communicate it. Some things are better felt rather than said. 

You wrap your arms around him and eventually he pants in your ear, “I’m close-” You nod once, beg quietly, “Do it. Please?” 

“But you didn’t-” He starts, and you cut him off with a half laugh, “M’ fine.” Your fingers trace along his jaw, and turn his face to yours, feeling that his facial hair is still vaguely wet thanks to you. You kiss him softly then, your tongue invading his mouth, and start to purposefully clench around him, coaxing him into finding bliss. 

You are intimately familiar with the idea that sexual satisfaction can be found with or without orgasm. And to be fair, the intensity of the orgasms he gave you out in the hall more than makes up for your lack of climax now. You aren’t even sure you could cum again after all that. Instead, you live vicariously through his pleasure as he reaches his end. He breaks the kiss, face falling into your neck as he cums. That groan that you love so much is released against your sweat-slicked skin, you sigh his name as he pulses into you. He is still inside of you when he presses another kiss to your mouth, and you return it, lazy and blissful. The pair of you are left panting, still processing how good this kind of sex could be despite its simplicity. His forehead is pressed to yours as you both try to even out your breathing.

Erik breaks you out of your reverie, asking, “How are my dating skills, hm?”

You laugh, “Couldn’t even wait to pull out before asking that shit?” Your arms fall from their place around him and he laughs too. You separate, quickly cleaning up with some tissues. You both relax next to each other in bed during the comedown, this time both of you on your sides facing each other. You finally chime in, “Your dating skills are great. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, hand reaching out for the water bottle kept on your nightstand. You help him out and pass it over, watching as he takes a drink. You prattle on without hesitation, “Yeah. You cleaned up great, you were flirty and you were funny! But I also learned a lot about you, too! You were very endearing; I would totally want a second date.” 

He sets the bottle down and recalls, “Same for you. That dress you picked? My God.”

“Is that the only thing worth commenting on; What I wore?” You press, and he laughs with a fond roll of his eyes, “Okayyy, you were also witty, charming, totally fucking enchanting and sucked dick like a champion. Is that better?” 

“Much better.” You smile and then curiously ask, “By the way, do you fuck like that on a first date?”

“Depends on how good the date is.” He shrugs with that sort of smug air you like a bit too much. You tell him, “You do that shit, and you are gonna have girls tripping all over themselves for another taste.” 

“Yeah? Think I can fuck a girl into falling in love with me?” He jokes, but you respond seriously, “Totally.” You retrieve your water bottle for a drink. He glances at your bedside clock; It’s after eleven. He audibly sighs, “I should probably get going soon.” 

“Awe nooo-” You toss the bottle aside and crawl over to him, he tries to lean away, but it’s half-hearted. He lets you cover his body with your own, your hands gripping his sides as you lean in and kiss him. He returns it, slower and sweeter than he probably should have. 

You break the sweet moment, meeting his eyes and asking quietly, “Stay?”

He laughs lightly, shaking his head as he tries to brush you off. He gives you a weak excuse at first, “I didn’t bring anything to spend the night.” 

“C’mon, Erik, that hasn’t stopped you before.” You pout, and he wants to stay. God he does. He wants to say fuck it and just spend the rest of the night in bed with you. He wants to try the shortbread you made, and maybe even ask if you had any more of that ice cream that you shared in this very bed months ago. Erik knows that despite what he may want, if he spends the night and comes home tomorrow in last night’s clothes, he will never hear the fucking end of it from Julia. Fuck his life. He hates himself just a little as he concludes, “I really have to go home tonight.” 

You hum sadly before you say, “Okay. Can I at least tempt you into sharing a shower with me before you go?” 

He’d be stupid not to take advantage of the opportunity to shower with you, since it would be another first. He rationalizes this decision by considering how wrong it would be to get back into his nice clothes without cleaning up after tonight's events. And so, he relents, letting you “drag” him to your bathroom. The view is pretty unforgettable, his eyes following the trails of soap and water cascading down your frame as you scrub yourself down in front of him. He even lets you wash his hair when you ask. His eyes are closed as you work. You are talking about some tv show you’ve been binging lately and all he can focus on is the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp. You are unfairly good with your hands. When he gets out, he is blanketed in the subtle scent of your shampoo and body wash. He isn’t annoyed in the slightest. In fact, he finds it to be shockingly comforting.

You carry on the conversation as you dry off, and he gets re-dressed. He is also considerate enough to help you mop up the wet spot in the hallway. You send him on his way with a hug and a piece of millionaires shortbread to take with him. He eats it on the walk home, the butter, caramel and chocolate mixed with the lingering taste of you serve as a delicious end to this unforgettable night. 

[dumbbandpoetic]

failed blind date

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: patrick overhears some dumb guy talking about how he’s gonna stand up his blind date, and like the good (horny) samaritan he is, he swoops in and pretends to be him. only then, he really starts to fall in love.

a/n: never actually written for patrick at all before so it might be wildly out of character, but i tried my best with this req.. i liked writing it tho!! thanks for requesting stuff always <3

warnings: not proofread…

w/c: 1.5k

Patrick hates pissing in bars. It’s degrading.

The urinal stall is covered in graffiti, piss stains, and something that’s decidedly *not* piss and would probably show up under a blacklight. And he’s pretty sure he passed a rolled up line of cocaine on one of the sinks by the door. He was desperate, but not *that* desperate. Who knew what you could catch. Above all, though, people were loud as shit in the bathrooms.

Currently, there was a guy on the phone with one of his friends at the urinal on the other end. Patrick is just trying to piss in peace, but he’s so loud it’s impossible to ignore.

“Dude, Max said she was hot!” He was complaining, shimmying his pants down. “She’s just totally not my type. Knows the bartender. Probably gets set up on one blind date a week because no guy on his right mind would want her. Nah. I’m just gonna go home.”

Poor girl. Whoever she was, Patrick feels bad for her. To be quite honest, the guy on the phone wasn’t all that either, and he could only imagine this girl was waiting for a knight in shining armour. Except now, she was getting stood up.

…well.

She could still get a knight in shining armour. Just not the douchebag that was supposed to meet her tonight.

Patrick weighed the options. His ex-girlfriend had just dumped him, and had gotten with his best friend almost immediately after. Initially, Patrick had been excited with Art’s little crush on Tashi. It was good to see him come out of his shell. Now he wasn’t so happy about it. He was here to find a hookup anyway. This was just the easy route.

So he wiped clean, washed his hands, and exited the bathroom with a new confidence. He needed to find the girl with the least confidence who was sitting at the bar. It wasn’t hard to spot her. Based on her level of dejection, her date must’ve been 30 minutes late by now. She’s stirring her fruity drink with a curly straw, untouched, like she’s waiting to be joined.

The thing is, though, that she’s beautiful. Despite her sadness, Patrick’s sure he’s never seen a prettier girl in his life. There’s this glow to her skin that radiates around her, and he can’t stop looking at her. Was the guy from the bathroom blind? Or did he maybe see the wrong girl, or something? Whatever it is, Patrick thanks his lucky stars this girls date stood her up.

He clears his throat, then makes his move.

He slides in next to her and smiles. “Hey, Max’s friend, right?”

She visibly relaxes when she looks up at him. “Yeah, hi!” She says her name, and he catalogues it, because it’s probably never going to be mentioned again and it’s not like he can ask Max. “Peter. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Peter, yeah!” He nods, making a mental note to respond to that for the rest of the evening. “Sorry I’m so late, my work ran really really late, and I didn’t have a way to let you know-”

“Oh my god, no, it’s totally fine.” She shakes her head, hair fanning away from her face. “I was worried you weren’t going to come at all. Uh- what do you do for work?”

He orders a beer quickly, and takes that time to decide how much he should lie. He decides not at all. “Oh, I play tennis.”

“What, like, professionally?” She asks, finally taking a sip of her drink and looking up at him through her eyelashes. His brain wasn’t working properly. God, she was gorgeous.

“Yeah. I used to be pretty big, but then, you know- it staggers sometimes. That’s probably why you haven’t seen me.” What he doesn’t say is how he’s been playing loser games for about three seasons now and hasn’t been able to get himself taken seriously since college.

“Wow. Peter- that’s so cool. That’s amazing.” She grins like he told her he was the fucking pope, or something. She has a nice smile, he thinks. He stays silent for so long thinking about that, that she fills it again. “Max didn’t tell me you were like- awesome. I mean, he said you were average, at best, and boring- and you’re not that. Like, at all.”

“Well, thanks.” He can’t help snorting, thinking about the decidedly below average man he’d seen in the bathroom. He would’ve been so lucky to be sitting across from this ethereal girl. Patrick was the lucky one, really. “So what do you do?”

“I’m a teacher.” She beams brightly, hands tapping on the counter like the information excited her every time she remembered. “Elementary school. Second grade.”

“Oh, good for you. I definitely don’t have the patience to work with children.”

“Yeah, tennis is definitely more solitary, isn’t it?” She giggles, even though nothing was that funny. Patrick finds it very endearing. He’s good at making bad jokes, so it’s good to know she can laugh easily. “I’ll have to look up one of your matches.”

“Oh, you may not be able to find them.” He said quickly, shrugging his shoulders. “I was pretty young, so they might not have put my name on them, you know.” He was doing very poorly at lying so far. Maybe he should just come clean. He was thinking about it for sure.

As the evening progressed, their drinks went forgotten, conversation flowing easier than it’d ever gone for Patrick. Or, Peter, he should probably say. They didn’t even notice when everyone else cleared out, and the staff announced they were closing.

“Hey, let me walk you home.” He offers, hand instinctually hovering behind the small of her back as she hopped out of the barstool, just in case she needed help. He checks his watch, then shows it to her. “It’s really late. It’s dangerous for you to walk on your own.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” She grins, leading him out the bar. The cold hits them as soon as they exit, and he sees her shiver. His jacket leaves his shoulders and before he knows it, he’s draping it over her. “Wow, how gentlemanly.”

Internally, he’s freaking out. He doesn’t even know where this is coming from. He is a sleazy, no good, loser. Maybe Peter was doing him some good after all. “Lead the way, babe.”

“Peter,” He flinches at the name, because it’s not him. “This was great. Really. I’d love to do it again.”

“I should probably tell you something first.” He mumbles under his breath, his hand reaching for hers. He links their fingers together.

“Oh my god, are you a serial killer? Do you have a girlfriend? Was this all a prank-”

“No. None of the above.” He laughs a little bit, thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. “I’m.. uh- I’m not Peter.”

“So it *is* a prank.” She says, eyebrows furrowed. They stop in the middle of the sidewalk, and she looks up at him like she’s hurt, but all he can focus on is the way that the dim streetlight is shining on her like she’s a goddamn angel on earth.

“No- well- just let me explain. I was in the bathroom at the bar, and this guy- *Peter*, I guess- said that he wasn’t really feeling a blind date this evening and decided to go home. Now when *I* left the bathroom, and I saw you sitting there- I just- I wanted an excuse to talk to you. But I’m not Peter. I’m Patrick. My name is Patrick.”

“Have you been telling me lies all evening, *Patrick*?” She asks, hand dropping out of his. His hand flexes at his side.

“No. Everything else is true. I do play tennis, and I do have a cat that sometimes visits me, and I do think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He knows that he’s rambling, but it’s not like he can stop it. Suddenly she starts walking again, and he follows her on impulse.

“Well, I guess it’s okay then. Just a name. Think I’m gonna call you Peter anyway.” She mumbles, her hand reaching for his again. He smiles at that. “And that other Peter guy was probably lame.”

“He looked totally lame. Like, way below your league, and stupid, and kind of reminded me of a grown up frat boy a little bit.” He laughs, looking down at her like she’s the second coming of Christ.

She stops again. “Hey, Peter, this is my apartment.” She holds onto his hand though, looking back at her building. “Do you… wanna come upstairs?”

“Peter definitely wants to come upstairs.” He grins, cocking his head to the side like he was cracking his neck.

“Well, who am I to say no?” Her laugh is contagious, and they’re both fumbling around as she tries to put the keys in the front door.

It’s highly possible he’s the luckiest man alive.

credits to strangergraphics for the dividers

likes and reblogs are always appreciated!! thanks for reading my lovelies <3

[rionsquared]

sakadays boys with a nonchalant s/o?? 🙈

Do you even care?

Synopsis: In which you’re chill… a bit too chill for your partners understanding.

Featuring: Gaku, Yoichi Nagumo, Shin, Seba Natsuki, and GN! Reader

Note: mostly SFW with suggestive content. Mostly fluff with some angst! Thank you anon for the suggestion this was fun to write!

Gaku

You’ve been seeing eachother for about a month now, and it’s not bad so don’t get him wrong. It’s rare for him to actually care about another person especially with how much he’s liked you… but that being said he can’t tell if you feel the same.

He found it amusing at first, when you found out he was an assassin, and you just shrugged saying in a tone that’d make most think he was telling you what’s for dinner. “K.”

That’s it, there was no questions, no fear, no nothing. And he thought for sure finally someone who can appreciate not overreacting over everything would match him perfectly… in recent days it’s become slightly annoying though.

“I’m home.” He says with a yawn throwing his shoes off of course. You looked over at him, face and shirt covered in blood. You give him a look about to ask but he responded quickly. “Not mine.”

And so you nod getting back to your show. “Figured.” Thats it? He means, he’s glad you’re not some sobbing bitch on-top of him telling him he needs to stop but…. A little concern wouldn’t hurt time to time.

“Figured aye?” He replied, matching your tone as he plops on the couch. In which you comment. “You’re going to get the cushions stained, might want to take that off you comment.”

That’s what you cared about? Gaku chuckled under his breath, both amused and annoyed. Taking his bloodied shirt off sitting back down. Moving closer to you. “Better?”

You nod, scanning his torso for a moment. Which he took notice to, “like what you see?” He ask with a sly smile, his hand now drawing circles on your skin. Which you don’t seem to care for in the slightest replying.

“Nah just wanted to make sure you weren’t injured.” You reply in the same cool tone. Okay now he was slightly more annoyed, over the fact one you don’t seem to care about the proximity. And two… if you were checking if injuries it would mean you were worried right? Yet here you were with the same expression as always.

“Really? Any reason for that?” He ask looking at the TV switching it to his game lazily still drawing patterns in your shoulder. And you think for a moment before answering.

“Just know sometimes you hide stuff so figured I’d check.” And while you didn’t sound like you directly cared with that tone…. Those words did warm his heart. And that’s how it usually would go. And honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yoichi Nagumo

To say he was confused to say the least. While Nagumo was by no means normal—I mean let’s be real he’s a freak (affectionately). But even with that he knows that your attitude wasn’t normal, not in the slightest. Maybe it was because, Nagumo was the opposite of you where he’d be overly expressive, while you well… weren’t.

“Mmmm the perfume you’re wearing is good.” He comments playfully into your neck. Which yeah, it was good but his main goal was get a reaction out of you. Just something to showed how he affected you. “Got it a few days ago, it’s my first time wearing it.”

You comment as if you could be less affected by the proximity. Hell you didn’t even play along and at least tease him by saying something like ‘I could wear it more often if you like.’ Nothing. Notta. Seriously Nagumo was wondering how the hell you guys even got together because, in the past he very rarely did relationships. And when he did… well his partner was usually more passionate.

“You know, a little thanks or blushing wouldn’t hurt you?” He teases more burying into you neck more. You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again because, you were thinking—confused. “Do you want me to thank you?”

“I wouldn’t be against it if you did.” He replies humming arms now slung around your torso, lazily leaning his weight against your back. “Or is that too much of a stretch for you?” He ask with a mock wounded expression.

And to be clear, it’s not that Nagumo hated your indifference or held it against you. He thought frankly it was quiet charming and cute, considering the fact to he’s surrounded by so many heavily emotion driven people. You’re a change of pace.

That being said… when a relationships as far in as you two you’d think there’d be atleast a little bit of vulnerability.

As the room was quiet for some time he can’t help commenting in an amused tone, though his words carried some vented weight to them. “Sometimes I wonder if you really care about me.”

“I care.” You respond in that always neutral tone of yours. And usually Nagumo isn’t one to get worked up over simple words. But god the way you…. His hands twitched as he felt his aggravation flare for a second before switching to his normal behavior. “Welllll caring a little more would be appreciated. Now I have to go bug an old friend, see you later.”

Before you could respond he’s already gone.

Shin

This man even with clairvoyance felt like he couldn’t read your thoughts. Even if they were right infront of him. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Most notably today. He came over to your place later then what you guys had agreed upon, he was explaining what happened. Being caught up fighting Slur’s men and such. And what does he see in your mind as he explains. Just a single passive thought.

‘Damn I guess that means no going out to that new hotpot place…. I guess I have leftovers…’

“Seriously I’m telling you I almost died and you’re thinking about dinner?!” He ask exasperated as you reply.

“Oh, I forget you can read minds, my fault.” My fault?! Surly now you were just trying to mess with him, but as he read your mind it was like sakamoto personally punched him in the gut.

‘If he doesn’t want to eat why is he here… if he really just wanted to tell a story he could’ve sent a text.’

“Hey who says I didn’t want to eat?!” He ask in the most shin way possible adding on. “Just listen to me first then we can find somewhere to eat!”

…

And yet somehow you guys ended up ordering and getting DoorDash before he could finish his story.

Seba Natsuki

Man was this a match made in heaven for Natsuki. A partner who he didn’t have to care 24/7 for nor did they seem to care that much either? Perfect.

“Had to work overtime, can’t go out tonight.” He says as he walks into the shared living space where you reply back. “K.”

Perfect. No extra questions, no hassling, not even some kind of physical demand that he felt most were after when they tried to get with him. Finally someone who just lets him breath.

He takes a shower exhausted as he lays in bed. You join shortly after briefly commenting. “I’m going to get changed.” And so he nods. You made things easy for him, he got the comfort of a relationship and the connection of it without all the unneeded formalities.

That being said, if you asked for more… he’d be willing, just as you’d do the same. There was a mutual understanding like that between the two of you. Caring without the need to dramatize it.

Slipping into the bed next to him he turns the lamp off on his side of the bed. “Going to bed.”

In response you turn your own lamp off nodding. “K.”

Perfect.

Ngl I wanted to write more with Natsuki but I felt like it would’ve got really repetitive super fast. But he’d 10000% love a more laidback partner then one up in his space imo considering how much is already demanded from himmmmm

Also SORRY ABOUT NAGUMO’S I didnt reallly think it was like super angsty or anything until I reread it and near the end I was like ‘damn I feel bad for the guy :’<' (I want to say canonically I don’t think Nagumo would ever be vulnerable like that given the context or atleast in the way I wrote it but….)

But yeah hoped yah’ liked it it’s my first anon request on this account so I hoped I did well, as always like/reblog/comment and see you next post (hopefully)!

[ranger-jahen]

oh I'm so glad you asked :D

so to start with, I feel like a lot of times, just posting random thoughts about your ocs as they occur to you counts for a lot! :3 that's the sort of thing that helps people get to know them and connect with little details about them. ^o^ to have an idea of them to carry around, y'know? (random examples if needed)

then I think for our context here specifically, posting about how your character responded to or experienced specific game scenarios I think is always fun! :] don't turn it into a fic necessarily, you don't have to give so much effort for every detail. (unless you want to write a fic around it, of course) I've got a couple examples here and here but honestly and truly you can find your way into making these most easily if you post about your oc as if they were a canon character and you were creating headcanons or posting meta. xD it's very fun.

another game-specific delight! is to think about some of the things added for flavor in the world of Baldur's Gate, and write or talk about those same things happening for your oc as if they were included directly in the game's files. c: I just recently sent an ask over for riddleroseheart's Elenion, asking what might the flavor text for him if he were a shadow vestige left behind in the shadow-cursed lands. ;u; a tragic example, but a lot of potential there, I think. one of the Tav Ask Games that someone made has a question about what your PC's tent would look like, as another good example! :3c and then there was also a Tag Game with the "Dryad's Love Test," that you could fill out for your OC and give some insight into them.

I also loved the idea you posted @missfortunetherogue with creating an "interview" based off the in-game Gazette, that's perfect and I'd adore seeing more people do stuff exactly like that! :D really anything that takes a feature of the world itself and works your OC into an experience or portrayal of it that grounds them and shows off their personality is amazing!

I think using game resources to make your own fan-content for your OCs is underrated too. :3 @riddlerosehearts has been posting some really cool stuff using some mods to create gifs of Elenion, @ignistigator makes awesome and hilarious text meme posts of their PCs (linked example is Badb), and I do a lot of messing around with audio files to get character-specific dialogue for Jahen. just some random examples to inspire anyone reading along.

and finally, there's the Big Stuff, like fanfiction, fanart, AMV-making, mod-making (shoutout to @bg3screenshotdump), and stuff like 3D printing and miniature craft. those take a lot more commitment but I think they're so fulfilling to do even if you think no-one else wants to see it necessarily, that's the sort of thing you can get lost in just for you. :D

i need more of u to be more insane abt your ocs btw. i need a 65% increase of oc posts on my dash. for my health.

[somescrap-paper]

Here’s Wally!…. Again 😵 BUT THIS TIME WITH A LIL BIO:

Meet Wally Coreopsis!

A wide-eyed little fellow, Wally is always looking for a way to feed his innovative cravings through tinkering with bits and bobs. His current job as a Prismatist also feeds into this craving, as he repairs and ensures good quality prisms into the human realm. Wally also strives to improve his colour-weaving ability, hoping to use his magic to further his tinkering projects. Though happy with his life, there will never be anything big enough in the universe to feed his curiosity. It is this same curiosity that gets him stranded in the human realm after a prism-repair trip goes awry. After some time of unguided panic-flying, Wally ends up inside a human house, where he is discovered by red-head biologist, Tim Hartman. It’s up to Wally to navigate his way home, as well as his new-found friendship with the humans.

OKAY SOME QUICK EXPLAINING:

- There are 3 types of Entostellians, with Wally being what’s known as an “Aerostellian.” These types of Entostellians have silver/gold cheek marking and retractable wings!

- The Entostellian and Human realms are separate, only being connected through a main portal in a tree hidden off in the woods. After an Industrial Revolution in the Entostellian realm, Entostellians sneak into the Human realm to collect Earthly metals and use them to advance their magic/technology. That’s what the prisms (aka Entostellian built portals) are for, to get slightly easier access into human civilization.

-A “Prismatist” are the engineers/mechanics of prisms, ensuring that the quality of the prisms are safe for travel! Because prisms are artificially made by Entostellians, they are prone to wear and tear and need to be maintained regularly (that’s what Wally’s job is for!)

-Entostellians are usually born with something called “colour,” which is basically what they call their ability to use magic. “Colour weavers” are basically the witches, mages, and wizards of their world

[cutie-lumi]

Every femstars artist I've seen draws Mugi with big boobs and I'M NOT COMPLAININGJFKSNGK I just love how she has the biggest boobs and then nat is like.... Flat.. I feel kinda rude saying thatdbsknf😭 I love them so much ❤️❤️

I LOVE WHEN PEOPLE DRAW THEM LIKE THIS!!!!!!! it's my ultimate hc for their bodies ever since I?? started shipping them ig?? Fem!Tsumugi not caring about her looks yet being well endowed while Fem!Natsume is like. always looking super pretty, but being flat as hell (and a little bit jealous of mugi's overall body proportions)? SIGN ME UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP IT'S MY FAVE SHIP DYNAMIC. I EAT IT ALL UP ALL THE TIME. I love seeing other artists having this as their hc as well!! Imo it suits them so much OUGHHHHHHH i need to thank all the artists who also draw them like this bc you're the reason why im so well fed. thank u for your service.

[son-of-avraham]

hey, shalom! so i'm looking to convert and i sent an email to a local shul explaining that i'm interested in converting and that i'd like to start attending services (their website asks that you send them an email beforehand if you're gonna be attending and haven't before) but they haven't gotten back to me yet. it's only been a few days but i'm now worried they're not gonna get back to me and idk don't like me based off my email (silly i know). how much time do you think has to have passed before i should assume the email has gotten lost and i need to send a follow up email or call them? i don't want to pester them obviously and of course i understand they might be busy. i was assuming 2-3 weeks? i think i'm mostly looking for reassurance that they will get back to me in time and i have no reason to worry about it

I definitely empathize with you; I think what helps is remembering that many shuls are either small enough that it's only one person operating the domain, or they're cautious and it isn't about you, but moreso about ensuring the safety of the community.

I sent an email to the shul I go to, and it took a bit for them to get back to me. As it turns out, only one person operates the domain and is incredibly busy all the time with improving the shul, the cemetery, and organizing. I ended up getting a call from him personally where I discussed a bit of my background, which I think can be very helpful.

Because of how close shabbos is right now (I'm reading this on a friday afternoon), it might also be a conflict. You may not have sent the email anywhere near shabbos, but l-rd knows how hard it is to read email every day (one of my toxic traits, and I know it permeates a good chunk of the jewish community 😭). I'm so psyched for you, and I'm sure you're full of nerves, but it'll work out! I'd say that you are correct; sending a follow-up email after a few weeks could be a good reminder, but just know that it can sometimes just be a matter of time. I hope you hear back soon🩵🩵

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently