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clubdionysus · 6 hours

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[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one.

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse.

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way.

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him.

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter.

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods.

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look.

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat.

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him.

He nods.

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter.

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made.

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check.

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this.

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous.

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you.

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet.

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared.

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment.

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips.

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him.

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this.

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No.

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace.

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive.

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s.

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour.

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is.

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news.

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open.

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors.

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place.

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind.

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice.

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you.

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want.

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume.

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him.

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors.

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings.

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him.

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place.

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock.

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips.

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head.

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams.

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version.

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable.

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him.

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan.

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new.

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration.

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably.

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing.

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute.

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both.

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point.

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information.

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling.

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more.

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so.

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious.

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema.

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day.

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you.

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him.

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back.

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home.

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head.

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm.

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet.

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.��

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference.

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt.

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love.

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels.

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go.

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted.

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick.

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval.

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch.

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again.

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited.

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk.

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too.

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done.

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south.

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral.

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you.

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants.

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver.

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive.

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens.

But it is a surprise when he lets go.

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer.

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not immediately, at least.

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself.

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him.

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first.

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away.

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.”

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch.

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you.

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal.

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you.

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night.

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away.

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you.

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him.

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more.

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you.

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does.

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you.

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure.

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot.

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible.

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t.

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him.

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.”

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to.

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names.

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps.

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before.

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning.

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you. Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you.

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up.

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom.

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept.

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change.

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #bad decisions #dappleddaisies

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tommybuckleykinard · 3 hours

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this fandom is getting ridiculous lmao

what you mean oliver didnt go into detail about bucktommy??? lmao of course he didn't that'd be giving us spoilers since he said the time skip wasn't that big

and some of these folks tryna use this as a gotcha are the same people praising certain journalists for not giving spoilers after they got screeners. and now they suddenly think oliver was gonna spoil shit and that he didn't is a bad sign. make it make sense pls

this is too funny

every day some of these folks remind me how young they are. cuz they react like oliver saying "the relationship with tommy is much more where it was left off, it's in early stages, they're still learning and figuring things about each other and what a relationship might or could look like" is somehow a bad thing.

these are two men over 30 tryna balance life, work and a relationship, and them having convos about their future together and what that'd look like is actually a very good thing. this a very good convo to have in the early stages of a relationship and it shows how seriously they're taking it. they're too old to play around and they both seem like they're ready to settle down.

both oliver and lou have implied that their characters want love and are ready for a serious long term relationship. oliver especially is tired of the hamster wheel buck has been on. also this show isnt gonna be around for another 12 seasons. tough convos have to happen quick. oliver saying "might or could look like" is not a red flag, it's actually really good because it shows they're treating this like a serious long term relationship and they're both tryna figure out what they want from it and each other. and saying any more than that would just be spoilers for the beginning of the season and of the early stages of bucktommy's relationship.

I'm glad that it seems like we'll maybe actually get to see this on screen.

I hope we see their first ILYs

#saf.txt #saf rambles #paleyfest #oliver stark #bucktommy #otp trying to keep up #tv: 911 #911 discourse #911 show #911 spoilers #i should probs proofread but im lazy and cant be bothered

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jaegeraether · 1 day

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 90)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (68) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (23)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((3.4k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter bi-weekly, every Thursday and Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

YFN POV

“For someone so independent, you’re very needy,” Jordan chuckled.

YFN pouted, looking at her watch again. “They’ve been gone all fucking day. Surely that’s a bad thing?”

The slightly smaller woman shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, what if they’re just tying everything up with a pretty bow to make sure that it’s all sorted today? With both Lucy and Leah speaking, and then our testimonials, along with Ridley and Alexia, and your injury report, surely that’s enough to have Kristie locked up for the foreseeable future.”

Kristie. She never wanted to hear that name again. Lucy had no intention of letting her be in the same room as her, and Leah had offered to go as a character witness, knowing that her fame would make them realise how important of a case it was.

Jordan reached out and squeezed her hand. “It should be an open and shut case. Especially seeing as you didn’t want to go for the harshest punishment.”

“I just didn’t want her doing it to anyone else. She needed to know it was wrong.”

“Some jail time and community service will definitely get the message across.”

“And restraining orders…” she murmured. That had been Lucy’s non-negotiable.

“Leah there is going to throw a spanner in the works too. Her platform is massive. No one in their right mind will want her publicly speaking about how Kristie got away with her friends being stalked and then assaulted to the point of this.”

She gestured to YFN sitting up in the hospital bed.

She squeezed her hand. “Thanks for being here, Dory.”

Jordan’s little smile took over from her serious, friend look. “Of course, mate. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

A few minutes later Lucy’s doctor returned, or rather, her doctor too.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said as he stood next to her bed with a gentle smile. He was one of those men that you were always comfortable around. The benevolent type. “The scans are good - better than I expected given your… history.” Another smile, though this one was sympathetic. “Would you like the good news or the very good news first?”

She felt herself let go of tension she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

“Save the best for last.”

“Very well.” He put the scans up on the light box and pointed to her collarbone. “The second surgery went well. The screws are holding, though I’m afraid I need you in the sling to keep it immobile for the next 4 weeks or so..”

She sighed, though knew it was the case. Her Christmas was officially in a sling.

He continued. “Unless there’s an incident, or any issues with pain, I won’t need to give it a check-up until just prior to Christmas, and then I’m hoping to have you out of it for the new year.”

She smiled and nodded. “Well, that’s positive…”

He moved onto the next two x-rays. “Your forearm and wrist are healing well, though I’m afraid the cast will need to remain on for the next 6-8 weeks. We’ll give you a check-up when we get rid of the sling. Your jaw is also healing nicely, I know the bruising has been persistent, but expect it to be gone in the next week or so..”

“I can handle the cast,” she chuckled. “My shoulder is just in need of a good movement.”

She’d just wanted to swing her arm around, to roll her shoulder, instead of having it stuck where it was. It was a level of frustrating that bordered on pain.

“There are a few small massages that you can do to help, though you’ll need to be quite gentle with them, and careful not to shift your collarbone too much.”

He handed her a sheet with the exercises.

“Lucy can help with these. Any issues, give me a call.”

“Thank you,” she replied, gratefully. She was always grateful at the opportunity for Lucy to touch her more.

Jordan took the sheet interestedly and looked over it.

“Now onto your ribs. They’ve been thrown around a bit…” he looked at her with eyebrows raised and she blushed, knowing full well that she’d been abusing them a little too much with Lucy. “…which I understand.” He was politely giving her an out. “You already had several past injuries and you’re very limited with your movements given your state, and so it’s understandable that your ribs are catching the brunt of it. Though, you’ll need to be more mindful. No overexertion. No twisting yourself. No…excessive movements.”

To his credit, he did seem entertained by it.

“I think you should call Lucy and tell her that directly,” Jordan joked.

YFN’s mouth dropped open, though he and Jordan shared a good chuckle at her expense. She made a mental note to not tell Lucy so that she didn’t lose any part of her sex life.

“Now onto your kneecap…”

She braced herself for bad news, but how could it be, when he’d said the worst of it first?

“It was only ever a minor crack, however I wanted you to keep your full weight off of it as you can’t exactly use crutches. I’m going to keep the brace on, however you can walk on it again.”

She grinned – her first thought being that Lucy was going to be so happy. She could picture her face lighting up now.

“Now don’t overdo it. Don’t put all of your weight onto it at once. Place your foot on the ground and ease your weight onto it. It’s a slow process, but you need to build that habit up so you’re not overdoing it. The brace will be on for another few weeks, and I’m hoping to take it off just before Christmas.”

No brace for Christmas. Lucy was going to be thrilled.

“Hoping…” he said again, making sure she understood that it was only a possibility at this stage. “…and you can take the brace off for showers now, just don’t put all of your weight on it in the shower.”

No more garbage bags. She nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”

They finished up with him, getting her scripts for medication and some more information. Lucy, ever the anatomy fanatic, would want to know every detail possible. Especially because it was her.

She walked slowly to the car, relished the feel of being able to use her legs like legs again. She was officially The Little Mermaid.

She groaned the relief for her hips and lower back as she did so, knowing this would take a lot of strain from Lucy needing to carry her around.

She slipped into Miles, Lucy’s car, and Jordan slipped into the driver’s seat. The footballers had taken Leah’s Mercedes as it was lower to get into and Lucy hadn’t wanted her dropping into the seat and struggling to get out.

It was later in the afternoon now, and she looked at the time, wondering why it was all taking so long.

“Celebration dinner?” Jordan asked.

“Why do I feel like you all had this planned already?”

“Maybe. You know Lucy…”

“Has she messaged you?!” She looked over at Jordan who seemed to barely be able to see over the steering wheel. She gave a sympathetic smile. “No, sorry. But the table is still booked, so maybe we should see if they make it? I would suggest Katie and Caitlin but they’re not in town. Most of the girls are with their international squads. We can ask Alex but Jill is in Manchester. There’s a few other’s in town.. LJ and Keira, maybe?”

“Oh, that’s an idea!”

Jordan gave them both a call. LJ wasn’t available, however Keira and Georgia were. They met them at the Italian restaurant Lucy had booked and made a night of it. The girls joked about how they’d be in trouble if they were caught eating carbs when they were in season, though YFN had convinced them that they’d deserved it after their hard fought victory over the Netherlands. The more she got to know Keira, the more she got along with her. She opened up slowly, though at the end of the day, they both thought similarly, and had a similar sense of humour.

It was also one of the first times she’d been close and in intimate conversation with Georgia since she’d caught the first kiss between her and Lucy. They spoke about the game, Scotland, how much they needed to win by, Lumos and the interviews. The three footballers had a good catch up now that they all played for different teams, and they saw less of Jordan.

The two opted to skip dessert as they’d apparently already been too bad, though once they saw Jordan and YFN’s desserts, they couldn’t help but try a taste.

When their dinner was ending, she checked her phone and her stomach sank.

“Still nothing?” Jordan asked, seeing her reaction.

She gave a sigh. “No. You?”

She shook her head.

“Doesn’t usually take this long, surely?” Georgia asked. “What, are they hand delivering her to jail?”

“There must be a good reason…” Keira comforted. “Either way, we have time to do the interview if you want?”

They were being efficient, with Keira offering at dinner to come over and do the couch interview that YFN had suggested was best to ease the ‘Wonze’ fanatics of the internet. She still didn’t know Keira well, though she could see that she’d offered partly because not only did she want to get it over and done with, as she hated interviews, but she knew YFN needed a distraction from the current legal situation that Lucy and Leah were tied up in. She called Bridget and Emily to see if they were available last minute for the interview. They were more than eager, as she knew they would be, though still offered them extra pay for the inconvenience.

After dinner, they made their way to Lucy’s and settled in, Bridget and Emily setting up for the interview while she ran through queries with Keira prior to it.

“Did you read the questions and prompts I sent..?”

She hadn’t expected her to, as the interview wasn’t supposed to take place until later in the month, however things seemed to be working this way for her for some reason.

Keira nodded, asking questions and YFN couldn’t help but be impressed at her eye for detail.

She’d said that Jordan and Georgia didn’t have to stay, but they’d insisted, wanting to catch up on lost time.

The interview went for just over an hour, though it was exactly what she’d wanted. Keira had not been tense at all, and she was proud of herself for creating such an environment. To be fair, she even felt like she’d flirted with her a little, which had surprised the Australian. She’d never seen an interview with Keira so comfortable before. Hopefully that would suppress the ‘Wonze’ fanatics who’d been sending her so much hate on social media.

Keira took photos for their interview, while she answered Georgia’s questions about the content process. She had very little content outside of the Lionesses as she played at Bayern Munich and they weren’t exactly known for their social media. They didn’t have time for another interview that night as the girls had training the next day before flying out to Scotland, and needed to get rest.

They all left, though Jordan stayed with her. She looked at her watch as they walked out of the door. 8pm. She hadn’t heard from Lucy since 7am.

She sighed, dropping her hand in defeat. Jordan gave her a cuddle. “They’ll be home soon..”

She cuddled into her friend, allowing herself to relax when her phone buzzed. She jumped immediately and grimaced at the pain that shot through her body as she grabbed for her phone.

Joe calling…

At this time of night?

“Hey, Joe,” she answered, feeling awkward calling her that.

“Hello, YFN. How are you?” Her voice sounded as soft and regally calm as ever. It was comforting to her.

“I’m doing well. It’s late – is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes. I was calling to check in on the hearing today. Did it go well?”

She wondered if she’d used any of her influence to help the situation. Her voice suggested that perhaps she had, though just a little.

“Luce and Leah aren’t home yet. They’ve been gone for over 13 hours.”

“I see. It’s not unusual, though. I’d like an update when they’re done, please. I need to make sure this is all wrapped up so that you’re safe.”

Seeing as you don’t want the security team I offered, she could practically hear her saying. Catherine was worried about her, which made her feel loved. She’d never had that from a mother figure beyond her grandma. Her heart softened.

“Thank you…” she said, gratefully. “I’ll let you know when I know. Also, I had a check up today. Everything is healing well, and I can now walk, albeit gently.”

“I read the report you sent through,” YFN could hear the smile in her voice. “I was very happy to read that. Hopefully you can be moving a bit more freely by the new year.”

“Fingers crossed!”

She gave a light laugh. “Mine certainly are. Now, I was thinking about the Gala event this week that Lucy and Alessia are doing this week. We’re a bit on the back foot with everything since there’s so much going on, however I was hoping that the timing will work out to have our own Lumos event this week, on Friday or Saturday perhaps. Do you think we could get any high profile players in that time?”

“How many were you thinking?”

“Ten maximum. I don’t want the focus to be lost if there are too many.”

“Well, Lucy will be with me for a little before headed back to Barca. Most girls will be back with their teams by then. I think I can get Jordan Nobbs, Leah Williamson, potentially any players from the WSL, and also perhaps… perhaps…”

“Perhaps?”

She pondered. “Perhaps… Alexia. That’s a big maybe, though.”

“Alexia would be the white whale, if we could get her on. Otherwise, it sounds great. Perhaps some other nationalities too, if you can?”

“Coaches too?” She asked, trying to think who would be available at a moment’s notice. “I could ask Sarina. Emma. I could get Caitlin for Australia, Katie for Ireland, Yui for Japan, Ashley for Canada, or similar if they're not available?”

“Brilliant. I do hate to drop this on you last minute, though I have been wanting to get it done before the rush prior to Christmas. If you could look through availability and give me a date and names, I’ll work on booking a location for Friday or Saturday so we can start promoting it.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, YFN. About tomorrow night, I have a location to meet. I’m assuming Lucy will be coming also?”

“I think Leah and Jordan have a right to be there too.”

She could practically hear her nodding. “I’ve sent the location and time to Mark. I have an aircraft departing at night for you. I’ll put you all on the manifest. You may need to clear it with the Lioness management.”

“Leah will handle that…”

“Perfect. I’ll send you the flight details.”

“Cath-” She cut herself off. “Are you sure about this?”

“There’s only so much hiding I can do. This is an unnecessary evil, unfortunately. You’ve been through too much already. I won’t have you fighting him too. I’m hoping to finish this once and for all with him tomorrow night, though from then on, my intention is still to be the silent partner while you are the face of Lumos. Has anything changed for you in regards to that?”

The empathy in her voice had YFN feeling comfortable. Comfortable enough that she could have said no, and Catherine would have accepted it without question.

“Nothing has changed on my end. I’m just very eager to get us onto a schedule where I’m not chasing my tail with interviews and events.” She chuckled. Catherine shared in her chuckle.

“Oh, I know. I’ve been hoping the exact same. It’s good to hear we’re on the same page, though. We’ll speak more tomorrow night. Until then – keep me posted on the hearing and anything you need at all, let me know.”

YFN and Jordan fell asleep on the couch, their feet overlapping under the blanket they shared as their heads were at opposite ends. She wasn’t sure how long she slept for, however she was woken by a warm kiss to the cheek and Lucy’s deep, comforting voice. “I’m here, little one. Everything’s okay.”

“Luce?” She mumbled, half asleep. She opened one eye, followed drearily by the other as she looked at her favourite person. Her expression was peaceful, which calmed the Australian.

She looked down at Jordan who was sitting up with Leah next to her, the two talking quietly. She looked back at Lucy.

“What happened?”

“It’s done, little one.”

She tried to prop herself up, and Lucy helped her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist to pull her up into a sitting position. “It took that long?”

“The incident happened in Spain, so we were delayed due to that, however someone pulled some strings for us.” Catherine. Lucy gave her a knowing look. “Without her, this would have been dragged out for weeks.”

“It’s done?”

She nodded as she reached out to stroke the yellowing bruises on her jaw. “Jail time for a period. Community service for the rest, as you didn’t want her to be stuck in there for the maximum time. Restraining orders for life. She won’t be attending any games in the future. And she apologised. It’s done.”

“She…apologised?”

“Mainly to me, but yes. She cried a lot.”

“That must have been hard…”

“Yes and no. I don’t like seeing someone upset, but she did hurt the person I love so… my empathy was not there for her. I’m just happy it’s all over.” She leant forward and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. “What did you two get up to, love?”

“We had dinner with Keira and Georgia,” Jordan said from across the couch.

Leah gave YFN a smile. She looked tired.

Lucy was caught off guard. “Oh?”

“It was great,” she reassured, putting her hand under the collar of her shirt, and on that strong collarbone of hers. “I did my couch interview with Keira after it.”

Lucy looked impressed, though like she had questions for when they were alone. She didn’t blame her.

“And?” Jordan prompted.

“Oh! And Lumos wants to host a public event with 10 female footballers in London this Friday or Saturday. Are you all free?”

“You know I am,” Lucy murmured, leaning her head against hers.

“I’ll be in town.” Leah answered.

“You already know I’m in.” Jordan agreed, looking at Leah. YFN hadn’t realised until just then that it must have been a while since they’d done something like that together in public.

“And I messaged Riddles, hoping to get Alexia if she’s back in town…”

“Mmn. I’m sure it’ll all be perfect. You’re good at the last minute organising,” Lucy teased.

She rolled her eyes. “And whose fault is that?”

She gave an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I do wonder how the doctor went today? I have an email titled: ‘No funny business.’”

Jordan cackled. Actually cackled. YFN blushed, a little embarrassed and frustrated that she had to tell her. Lucy didn’t understand. Bless her, she was incredibly smart, though a lot less quick for these types of situations.

“Everything is healing well apart from my…ah…ribs. They’ve not been having the rest they should.”

“I believe he said they’ve been ‘thrown around a bit’…” Jordan offered.

Lucy clicked and gave a guilty look. Before she could speak, YFN jumped in, trying to distract her with ten different things to keep her mind away from limiting sex with her.

“But everything else is healing well… hoping to be out of the sling by the new year and the knee brace by Christmas. Also, I can officially walk.” She gave a proud smile. “No more looking for the wheelchair in Scotland, Luce. I’ll be the one-armed flamingo with the Australian flag.”

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dalliesque · 2 days

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Mr. Nice Guy, Fresh Guy

𐙚 sypnosis let me introduce myself, nice guy, fresh guy of the night (alright) everybody tells you better watch out girl.

꒰ png flirty!HAN TAESAN x fem!reader , fluff , neighbours to lovers , coworkers to lovers , mutual pinning , flirty taesan , lower case intended . cw petnames. wc 890 words, proofread ꒱

yu notes : oh no i think i have the taesan brainrot 👻 shout out to @sanaxo-o for proofreading this, without her this would actually flop 😵‍💫 thank you sm hon <33

𐙚 Wednesday

“let me (re)introduce myself, nice guy, fresh guy of the neighbourhood.” taesan raises his eyebrows in a flirty manner, his hands sliding through his hair in a slick motion before leaning once more on the fence separating his and your front-yard. you hold in a chuckle, nodding. as you glance his way, soon looking away, your focus still solely on the plants in your yard, badly needing your care after being left for so long by the previous owner.

“so..” taesan continues, clicking his tongue watching you curiously. “you free this weekend? you know since i helped you and all” hearing this, your head snaps towards his direction not believing the words escaping his mouth. taesan simply shoots you a wink, and you can't help but to chuckle. your head returning to it's original position, fixed on the plants.

thinking about it, his words were true. he did help you with stuff (moving things around to your new house, since he's strong and all;) and what's the hurt in repaying the favour and let him take you out? wait.. is this a date? “i can make time for you.” you reply to his words, which did take a bit longer than it's supposed to be. a shit eating grin slowly appears in taesan's face. so shitty you can feel it from the back of your head actually, “i can feel your stupid grin from here” you roll your eyes playfully, looking back at him spraying a bit of water his way.

taesan laughs as he dodges the water you're spraying mercilessly towards him. “is this your way to repay my deeds?”—”no but it would be if our hang out isn't a date” “oh.” taesan stops dodging the water fully just standing there while staring right at your eyes. a little smirk on his face. oh how bad you want to wipe it away from his stupidly handsome face. taesan lets out a chuckle, about to jump over the fence. “i'll spray you with the jet if you get any closer!!”—”fine!!”

𐙚 Thursday

“can you rate how excited are you for the date from 9 to 10?” taesan appears behind you, whispering close to you. his warm breath tickles your ear, sending shivers down to your spine making you almost jolt out in surprise. “a hello would be nice??!”—”hello” you roll your eyes, sighing as you shake your head in disbelief. what the hell is he doing in the ladies locker room? “what are you doing here? it's the ladies lock—” you pause, oh there's no such thing as a ladies locker here. a smirk grows on taesan face, leaning in on the lockers.

“this is not the changing room babe” you scrunch your nose looking away, feeling heat from your neck slowly going up your cheeks from the embarrassment. oh how you wish to just dissappear under a big rock. “don't call me that.” you utter, going back to your locker to continue arranging your stuff. “oh sorry, i was just warming up. who knows i'll use it often in the future” your whole face is crimson red by now, forcing you to exit the shared locker room “hey wait you haven't rate the date yet!” “it's still in two days!!” “well should we do it now?”

𐙚 Friday

“one more day.” taesan teasingly whispers, his voice entering your ear gently and swiftly exiting the place as if nothing had happened. as if he didn't relentlessly tease you today, and as if his words wouldn't bother you the whole day and of course not forgetting the playful wink he'd send you before going out through the door. this is really bad for your heart. it's the second day of your shift here on the pizza store, but you're already pondering whether to quit or not. he really knows your weak spots. you thank the universe for making him work in the delivery rather than cashier or anything else involving being close to you 24/7. cause you would definitely would not survive.

𐙚 D-DAY(TE)

taesan rests his head on the palm of his hand looking at you intently as you twirl the pasta around your fork nervously. “look at my eyes” you give him a quick glance before holding in your laugh, looking back at your plate. “stop looking at me that way!”—“with these sexy eyes of mine?” you roll your eyes playfully still not looking his way. “oh come on just give in my shawty”—“shut up!!” taesan let out a small ‘ouch’ when you nudge his legs with your own under the table. he soon laughs holding his hand up in surrender. “atleast you're looking at my eyes now.”

you smile, okay, maybe his eyes are... what's the word? sexy? no, not that, but whatever the way to describe his shining, shimmering eyes, you wouldn't be able to say it out loud. it would obviously bruise your ego. “swooned by the nice guy's charm?” taesan raises his eyebrows, a mischievous smile overcoming his lips. yeah, that's it his eyes are charming, and yes, you probably did get swooned by the ‘nice guy's charm.’

striked cannot be tagged !!

@ :: @gyuvinreblog , @hyunhanie , @keii-starz , @starryriize , @eun-luv , @bambisnc , @intakstars , @enhacolor

@yochubi

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curioscurio · 24 hours

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Why we have to start being nicer to eachother:

I know it sucks and is hard, but I think we really do need to start treating techbros and incels and our fellow humans with a bit more compassion, empathy, and understanding before we jump to bad faith interpretation. Especially when seeing a bad take online used as bait for arguments. We have to give other people the opportunity and knowledge to think for themselves, and make the choice to become a better person on their own.

"Hold on! Why should I be nice to people like that? THEY'RE the ones who are being bigoted to US!"

Well, I'll try and answer that question below! I ended up writing a lot, so check out the "read more" if you're curious. At the end of the day, I'm not an expert or a professional on human behavior, so keep that in mind. This is just something I've been thinking about based on my own past experiences.

Conspiracy theorists, the far right, gun enthusiasts, and even MAGA's all operate on the belief that modern society hates them for who they are. They think the entire world is against them.

And, looking at the kind of hate rhetoric and harmful ideologies they talk about; the cruel acts of casual and extremist violence that stem from that community, it easy to see why the world has turned its back on them. Right?

It makes you wonder: "Why are they like this?"

The easy way out is to simply hold on to the belief that they are behaving this way because they are bad people. Bad people do bad things, after all.

But when the world turns its back on a group of people, those people turn their backs on the world. They will naturally gravitate towards whichever group of accepting humans they come across first. Whoever validates their feelings and makes them feel accepted and safe instead of rejected and fearful.

The far right preys on young men who don't know know any better because they are never treated any better. They have influencers, exactly like Donald Trump, that make you feel safe. They also are lying to these people and using their fear of rejection to control them.

It's very similar to how the Church will help you out and feed you if you're homelss... as long as you join the church and donate 10% of your earnings to "God." (The churchs bank account. )

That is to say, people don't usually pop out of the womb with these prejudices and fears programed into their heads. It's something that has to be taught to them by somebody else. Their parents, the church, their school, their friends, youtubers, etc.

"So, what do we do? How do we save future and current generations from being sucked into this hateful spiral of far right bigotry?"

"How do we help our conservative parents, who we know love us but are absolutely convinced that they need guns to keep their families safe? How do we help our Trump Train family members who used to be loving, compassionate, people?"

Well, you're not gonna like the answer. We have to start being nicer to everyone. We have to be nicer to incels, dude bros, techbros, Karen's, and yes, even your average Republican voters. We have to show them compassion and empathy when they're expressing their fears, without immediately attacking them for it. We have got to prove to them that there's a place for them to come back to.

Their fears are being taken advantage of by a system that benefits from pitting the general population against each other. If we're too busy fighting eachother, we can never join forces and fight the system.

And so it turns into a self-sustaining system of fear and reactive lashing out. They start believing that everybody is against them, except the few people who understand. Until the only safe place left for them is the Q Anon message boards. Quite literally an orobourous of hate.

"But Curio! They literally want us dead! These people are violent and irredeemable!"

Many of them are. So many of these people are groomed into believing that the only way they can keep themselves safe is by killing anything they think has caused them harm. It's an intentional system maintained by those in power to control those who are not.

Some of them, however, are just normal people who got in with the wrong crowd or are too young to know better. Some people were never given the chance to be better.

"So, what SHOULD we do? Be nice to our oppressors? Let them get away with hate crimes and bigotry?"

No. But we DO need to stop thinking of "them" as this massive malevolent demographic who have no souls and are inherently evil. The majority of these people were lied to and manipulated and groomed into these beliefs.

We have to try harder to stop ourselves before we start calling them names and attack them, regardless of if they deserve it or not. We have to engage with them on good faith. Learn about WHY they believe conspiracy theories and why it stems from fear.

"Why? What will this help?"

Because you're quite literally showing them that there's another option available for them to take. You're showing them that, if they do change their minds and want to change their behavior, that you are a safe person to approach with these thoughts. You have the power to create a space for them where they're allowed to think for themselves without punishing them for it.

Once you create that connection, it's like you're showing them another road in life they can explore. They now can see a new future for themselves. A future where their kids start talking to them again. A future where they're not terrified of being humiliated for being soft. A future where they feel listened to.

And that's all. You just have to give them that chance. It's not your job to change their mind, or to tell them that they're wrong for thinking thoughts. In fact, trying to do just that will usually encourage them to double down.

But what you CAN do is build an environment where they have the OPPORTUNITY to change their mind. You can be kind, empathetic, and educational. Be patient and listen and have a respectful conversation with them.

It is especially important for people with privilege to step up and be those kinds of diplomats. People who are able and willing to look past the surface bigotry to address the scared humans underneath. People who can do this without endangering themselves or their community. This may be other cis straight white people who can get away with bringing these topics up gently, without triggering reflexive defensiveness. Who then have the patience to gently educate them and steer them towards a better path.

"But Curio, I can't do this. I've been hurt too many times by these people, and doing this would cause me significant mental distress."

Then don't. You're not obligated to be the better person for every situation and circumstance. Nuance must be taken into account. You don't have to be nice to every troll or ragebait Twitter post. I certainly don't want you to put yourself in a situation that causes you emotional, physical, or mental harm. Hell, you don't even have to give them the time of day. It's your own responsibility to make the judgment call regarding your health.

But people simply won't change if there's no room for them to change. And some people have the power to make that room for them little by little.

"I've tried everything. I've begged, cried, been nice, and shown them that we won't reject them. They won't change their minds no matter what."

And that's also ok! It can happen. When you give people the opportunity to make choices for themselves, there will always be people who still choose to believe the system they were groomed on. They can do that because thats free will, baby. There will still be people who will not change their minds and who will actively choose to become more radicalized.

And it's sad to see. But you also have to respect that sometimes people aren't ready to change at the same time that you're ready to help them change.

But you should try to do it for all the young men and children who are being taught by their parents that White Genocide is real. You should do it for the parents who love their kid so much, but are so terrified when they say they're transgender because they don't know what to do. Because they know the world will not treat them fairly or are afraid of ruining everything.

You should do it for your 10 year old nephew who watches Andrew Tate because their mother doesn't give a damn enough to check what kind of YouTube videos their kid is watching. You should do it for the depressed and hurting teenager who thinks they have no option left but to buy a gun and shoot up their school, because no ones listening to them. You should do it for the tradwife who's alone and hurting after her conservative husband cheated on her and left her with nothing; because she thought she would be the exception.

"...How do you know this will work? What if you're wrong, and nothing changes?"

I don't! I'm just a random person on the internet. I dont know who might read this. It's just my opinion.

But at least, at the end of the day, you tried your best to be a good person to another human being, and I don't think that's such very a bad thing. For me, I'm going to try because I don't want to lose my father to that kind of environment. I want to be able to have a normal conversation with him again.

There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.

#long post #us politics

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inkspiredwriting · 10 hours

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Playground Pandemonium

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I imagine that five would be a great dad. But I also think that he is insecure and is sometimes afraid of becoming just like Reginald. What do you think?

Warnings: None

It was a rare sunny Saturday afternoon, and Five Hargreeves had finally found a day to spend entirely with his wife Y/n and their four-year-old daughter Maddie. They decided to make the most of it by visiting the local playground. Y/n, ever the planner, packed a picnic basket full of Maddie’s favorite snacks, while Five’s contribution was ensuring they arrived early enough to grab the best spot.

As they walked hand in hand through the park, Five scanned the area. “I haven’t been to a playground since, well, ever,” he admitted.

Y/n laughed, squeezing his hand. “You missed out on a quintessential part of childhood, Five. But don’t worry, Maddie will show you the ropes.”

Maddie, bouncing ahead of them with an infectious energy, turned around and called, “Come on, Daddy! You’re gonna love the swings!”

Maddie made a beeline for the swings, and Five found himself being roped into pushing her. “Higher, Daddy! Higher!” she shrieked with delight.

Five, slightly uncertain but determined not to disappoint, gave her a solid push. Maddie soared into the air, laughing gleefully.

“Careful, Five,” Y/n warned, settling on a nearby bench with a watchful eye. “We don’t want her launching into space.”

Five smirked, “I’ve seen worse launches.” He gave Maddie another push, but this time, his mind wandered to a particularly explosive time-travel incident.

Distracted, he pushed a bit too hard. Maddie shrieked—not in delight, but in mild terror—as she swung higher than intended. “Whoa! Okay, not that high!”

Y/n stifled a laugh as Five, looking mortified, rushed to catch the swing on its way back. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said, steadying her. “Daddy’s still learning the basics.”

Maddie giggled, her fear quickly forgotten. “It’s okay, Daddy. Just don’t push me into the future!”

After the swing incident, Maddie led them to the sandbox, where she promptly began constructing an elaborate sandcastle. Five and Y/n joined in, Five more reluctantly.

“Why does this remind me of building fortifications during the apocalypse?” Five muttered as he helped shape a sand wall.

Y/n chuckled. “Probably because you’re overthinking it. Just have fun!”

Maddie, her tongue poking out in concentration, sculpted a turret. “Look, Daddy! A tower!”

Five nodded, actually impressed. “Nice work, Maddie. It’s almost as secure as some of the bunkers I’ve seen.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe we can skip the part where it gets blown up by time-traveling assassins.”

As they worked, a group of kids approached, drawn by the impressive sandcastle. One boy, clearly the sandbox bully, sneered at their work. “That’s a silly castle,” he said, kicking sand at the base.

Five bristled, ready to give the kid a stern talking-to, but Y/n put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Five. Let Maddie handle it.”

Maddie stood up, glaring at the boy. “My Daddy can travel through time and fight bad guys. What can your daddy do?”

The boy, taken aback, mumbled something about his dad being a lawyer and scampered off. Five chuckled, giving Maddie a high five. “That’s my girl.”

Y/n called them over to the picnic blanket for snacks. As they sat down, Maddie’s excitement was palpable. “Can I have a juice box, Mommy?”

Y/n handed Maddie a juice box and gave Five a sandwich. “Try not to eat it too quickly,” she teased. “We don’t have a lot of supplies here.”

Five took a bite, nodding appreciatively. “Better than cockroaches.”

Just as they were settling in, a squirrel darted towards the picnic blanket, clearly eyeing their food. Maddie squealed, and Five immediately went into protective mode.

“Back off, rodent!” Five growled, standing up to chase the squirrel away.

The squirrel, unperturbed, grabbed a stray cookie and scampered up a tree. Five glared after it, shaking his fist. “This isn’t over!”

Y/n laughed, pulling him back down to the blanket. “I think we’ll survive without one cookie.”

Maddie, giggling, took a sip of her juice box. “Daddy, you’re so funny when you’re mad.”

Five sat down with a huff, brushing off the dirt. “I’m glad someone thinks so.”

The playground centerpiece was a tall slide, and Maddie insisted that her parents try it with her. Five eyed the slide warily. “Are you sure about this? I mean, what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Five,” Y/n interrupted, grabbing his hand. “It’ll be fun!”

They climbed the ladder, Maddie leading the way. At the top, Five hesitated. “This is higher than it looks.”

Y/n, already halfway down the slide with Maddie, called back, “Don’t chicken out now!”

With a resigned sigh, Five sat at the top of the slide. “Here goes nothing.” He pushed off, the slide’s angle steeper than expected. As he hurtled down, his typically composed expression twisted into one of surprise.

He shot off the end of the slide, landing in an undignified heap on the ground. Maddie burst into laughter, running over to help him up. “That was awesome, Daddy!”

Y/n, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes, helped him stand. “See? Fun!”

Five dusted himself off, trying to maintain some dignity. “Maybe for you.”

As the sun began to set, the Hargreeves family packed up their picnic and headed home. Maddie, tired from her day of adventure, held each of her parents’ hands, swinging between them.

“That was the best day ever!” she declared, beaming up at them.

Five, despite his usual stoicism, smiled down at her. “I’m glad you had fun, Maddie.”

Y/n leaned her head on Five’s shoulder as they walked. “You know, for someone who’s never been to a playground, you did pretty well.”

Five chuckled. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

As they reached their car, Maddie climbed into her seat, already half-asleep. Five and Y/n shared a look, both of them tired but happy.

“Same time next week?” Five asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Y/n laughed, kissing his cheek. “Absolutely. As long as you promise not to get into a fight with any more squirrels.”

Five grinned. “No promises.”

As the Hargreeves family drove home, the playground behind them, they couldn't help but smile. It was the perfect blend of laughter, love, and just a bit of Hargreeves-style mayhem.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot #five hargreeves

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lemonlamblaura · 3 days

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My Husband is the God of Pestilence - chapter 18

Not too pleased with this chapter but I wanted to get it out there so we could get to the one everyone's been waiting for... the wedding!!! 🥳🥳🥳

In this chapter, Rowan gives Kallamar a secret challenge to test his faithfulness to Lilybell.

"We're getting married!"

Rowan's reaction was not what Lilybell had hoped for. He stared at her blankly, mouth agape, and said nothing. Kallamar scowled at the sheep. He really couldn't even pretend to be happy?

"Congratulations!" Merryn exclaimed enthusiastically, clapping and wrapping Lilybell up in a tight hug.

Finally Rowan made an effort to smile, but it was forced and more of a grimace. "Hon, are you sure this is what you want? You only just met each other a few months ago. Why don't you give it a little more time?"

"But I don't want to give it more time," Lilybell said, still wrapped up in Merryn's embrace. "I want to get married."

"I know, but-"

"I thought you said you wanted your daughter to be happy?" Kallamar snapped. "You have a very interesting way of showing it."

"Maybe I don't want her to marry someone who could hurt her!" Rowan sniped back.

Kallamar was aghast at the very idea. "You old torment! How dare you make such an accusation!"

"It's hardly an accusation! The day I came here there was an immense battle and Lilybell was almost kidnapped! I don't want her to get hurt by being wrapped up in whatever the hell is going on with you!"

"Stop!" Lilybell cried, untangling herself from Merryn. The older seal focused on her own daughter instead, who was becoming agitated at the sudden change of mood.

The men ignored Lilybell. "None of that was my fault!" Kallamar shouted. "That was all Carcharias, and he's gone now! There's nothing to worry about anymore!"

A bad feeling, familiar and uncomfortable, began to grow in Lilybell's stomach once the shouting started. "I said stop!"

"You say that now, but what about in the future? You don't know who might target you next! You don't know what you're doing half the time, anyone with a brain can see it!"

A crowd of followers had began to form because of the fighting. People were looking at each other with shocked expressions. How could Rowan be saying this to a god?

Kallamar had had enough. He reached down and grabbed Rowan, bring him up to his face. "Speak to me like that again and you will regret it," he snarled.

"Oh, very mature! Now I know you're the right man to marry my daughter, threatening me like that!"

"Beat him up, Lord Kallamar!" Someone cried.

"Show the land-dwellers whose the boss!"

"Fight, fight fight!" People began chanting.

"STOP IT!" Lilybell screamed, stomping her foot hard against the floor. Finally Kallamar and Rowan turned their heads to look at her in shock. No one had ever seen Lilybell lose her temper like this. "Stop it, stop it, stop it! You two are terrible! Why can't you get along for even two seconds?! Put him down right now!"

Kallamar was frozen for a moment, watching his fiancé. He was ashamed of himself, behaving that way in front of her. This was no way for a husband to act. He set Rowan back on the floor, the crowd booing at the lack of violence.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said ashamedly, "I've behaved deplorably. Please forgive me."

"I'm sorry too," said Rowan, his face downcast.

Lilybell grabbed Rowan and Kallamar by their cloaks, pulling them into the main hall. Then she turned to leave, before saying, "you two can come out after you talk and work things out!" Then she closed the door, leaving the men in the glow of the crystals on the wall.

Kallamar sighed and rubbed the corners of his eyes. He didn't think announcing their marriage would turn into such a scene. Rowan sulked beside him. Things were quiet for a few moments.

"You know," Rowan said at last, "a man usually asks for the father's permission before asking a woman to marry him."

"I don't need your permission to do anything," Kallamar snapped.

Lilybell's voice rang outside the hall. "I don't hear you two getting along!" She said loudly in a sing-song fashion.

The men groaned. It was clear she wasn't going to let them out until they talked things over, something neither of them were looking forward to doing.

"What's your problem with me anyway?" Kallamar asked after a moments hesitation. "Haven't I taken care of Lilybell adequately? Have I not loved her enough? What do I have to do?"

Rowan didn't answer right away. "It's less about how you treat Lilybell and more how you treat everyone else. Like everyone is beneath you. Like we don't matter. If you can treat others that way, then it's possible you could treat her like that in the future."

"You are beneath me. I'm a god."

"That doesn't mean you have to act this way."

"I was taught-"

"That's no excuse."

Kallamar clenched his teeth in frustration. He knew it would be a mistake to let Rowan stay. The old bastard was going to ruin everything he'd worked so hard to maintain. If Shamura found out they would be so disappointed. But if he did away with Rowan, Lilybell would never forgive him if she found out. How could he please both of them?

"Bottom line is," Rowan continued, crossing his arms, "you aren't a good man. And I can't let Lilybell marry someone who isn't good."

Kallamar sighed. "Listen. There is no one more dear to me on this earth than your daughter. I will never mistreat her or harm her. I love her more than anything."

"What about Shamura?" Rowan gave him a side eye glance. "Lilybell said you two are very close. Who do you care about more?"

"They're both important to me! Lilybell can't be the only person in my life! Just like she can't be the only person in your life!"

Fair point, Rowan thought as an image of Merryn came into his mind. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe if he could prove to Lilybell that Kallamar wasn't as good a person as she thought... it was a nasty plan, straight out of his wife's playbook and if it didn't work Lilybell could be upset. But if it did work, he could try to convince her to leave the temple for good. Maybe Merryn and Anna could come too.

"Okay." He dropped his arms, taking Kallamar by surprise. "I will allow you to marry my daughter, on the condition that you treat your followers better."

Kallamar wanted to roll his eyes but he stopped himself. "Thank you." Of course things would go back to the way they were once this was over and there was nothing Rowan could do about it.

"And, of course, I will handle your bachelor party. I'll ask Merryn to organize Lilybell's."

"What's that?"

Rowan stared at him. "What's what?"

"What's a bachelor party? I've never heard of such a thing."

"You don't have bachelor parties?" This was getting better and better by the second. "Basically it's your last night of freedom before you get married. There's usually drinking, dancing-"

"I resent the idea that my marriage be compared to punishment or slavery," Kallamar glared.

Rowan held up his hands. "Okay, poor choice of words. Still, it's a tradition. Lilybell will expect to have her own party. It will make her happy."

Kallamar narrowed his eyes at Rowan. Was he just trying to stall for time? "Fine. I'll indulge you. But I want this to be a formal affair. No nonsense. You have until tomorrow night to organize everything."

"But that's not enough-"

"Tomorrow. Night. No exceptions."

A few minutes later, the doors opened and Kallamar and Rowan stepped out into the lit hall. Lilybell gave each of them a tight embrace and gave Rowan a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, daddy."

Rowan pet his daughter on the head and watched her walk off with her fiancé. When they were out of sight he turned to a shrimp follower. "Do you know of any attractive young people who are looking to make some coin?"

"What, I'm not good enough for you?" The shrimp teased good-naturedly.

There wasn't much to use in regards to party planning. There wasn't much time to decorate any of the rooms, so Rowan and Merryn focused more on what they could use for entertainment. Merryn had an easier time with the women who had more a mind for such things and brought their own ideas to the table.

"Can we have flowers?" Lilybell asked excitedly. "And cake? I can't remember the last time I had cake! And we need to play games too!"

"This isn't a birthday party!" Merryn laughed. "Let me take care of everything, honey."

Rowan was not so lucky. Some men didn't want anything to do with him, even after learning about the party.

Just getting people together wasn't enough, they also needed some catering too. And that presented a new problem.

"No way," Mortamer growled. "First we gotta cater to this stupid wedding, now you want us to make more food for this stupid party that Lord Kallamar doesn't even want?"

"Not anything big," Rowan tried to reason, "just little stuff, finger foods, y'know?"

"Will there be booze?" An axolotl chef asked.

Mortamer shushed them. "We're not doing it."

Rowan thought to himself for a moment. "Ever heard of knucklebones?"

"Who hasn't?" The shark rolled his eyes.

"If I win two out of three games you will make the food for the party tomorrow night. You can even attend if you want. If you win, I'll never ask you for anything ever again. Deal?"

Mortamer smirked. "If it means I get to humiliate you, then you're on."

The board and dice were procured from the sleeping quarters and a group of people came to watch the two battle at the dining table. Some actually started to bet on who would win before they got started and loud cheering was heard all the way down the hall when a high number was rolled. Most games of knucklebones hardly ever last more than a few minutes. When Rowan won the first game there was a lot of grumbling and exchanging of coins while Mortamer stared down at the board in angry disbelief.

"You cheated."

"Calm down, it's only the first game," Rowan said, clearing the board.

The second game had the same outcome and Mortamer was even angrier than before. "Rematch! Best three out of five!"

"That's not what we agreed on!" Rowan argued.

"I don't care! I'm not letting some land-dweller beat me!"

This time the match ended in Mortamer's favor with a crushing defeat of one hundred and twelve points. The followers cheered loudly for their comrade and thumped him on the back. However, the celebrations did not last long; Rowan had won the fourth game.

"I believe that's that," Rowan said with a neutral expression, trying not to enrage the shark further.

It didn't work. Mortamer jumped up from his seat and violently shoved the board off the table. "Fuck you, you fucking prick! We're not giving you a damn thing!" He yelled before stomping away and leaving everyone in shock.

Rowan sighed, putting his face in his hands, when one of the cooks spoke up.

"Are we invited to the party?"

"Sure, but there'll be nothing to eat," Rowan mumbled into his hands.

"I don't mind making a few things if there's beer there," said the axolotl. "We already agreed to make stuff for the women, so..."

"Beer!" Someone cried. "Oh, my god! I haven't had beer in forever!"

"What about wine?" Someone else asked.

Rowan's mood was instantly lifted as more people became interested. "We can ask Kallamar. He can probably come up with something."

"I really think this is all a waste of time," Kallamar complained, watching as Shamura's workers rolled out a few barrels of beer and wine out of the cellar. "We never have such "parties" in the ocean. When we want to get married we just get it done as soon as possible. That's what I want, anyway. But Rowan is making such a big deal about it and now Lilybell is excited. I would rather be spending time planning the wedding."

"It may not be as miserable as you think. I know it can be frustrating to have to compromise with a mortal, but when you have more power and control you will be able to decide for yourself what is to be celebrated, no matter what anyone may say. I take it weddings are not an immense spectacle in the sea as they are elsewhere?"

"Those in power certainly had grand weddings. But with my cult the way it is now I doubt we could amount to much. We are surviving, not thriving."

Shamura was surprised at this. They expected Kallamar to be doing better by now. "What is it you need?"

"I was hoping to have a proper dinner afterwards, but the cooks insisted they would only be able to serve our regular fair. And then there is music but we only have two people in the cult who are musicians... if you can call them that."

The god of knowledge had no understanding of romance in general. It was one of the only subjects that eluded them. And, as much as they wished Kallamar would focus on growing his cult and becoming more powerful, they understood that he needed to be free to have his own happiness, even if they did not understand it. Besides, weddings were a great way to grow faith, at least from what they observed.

"I shall handle the catering and the music. It will take a few days, so you will be able to recover from the... "celebrations"."

Kallamar was so relieved that he wanted to hug the spider, but he refrained from doing so, knowing they may not like it. "Thank you, sibling! I owe you one!"

"Not at all. This is what families do for one another. I only hope you will not invite me to your party. You know I have no mind for such things. I hate mingling."

Kallamar scoffed. "No, I would not dream of asking you to embarrass yourself like that. But would it be too much to ask for you to come to my wedding? You needn't make any speeches or anything like that, I only ask for your support."

Shamura smiled warmly. "Of course, brother. It would be a good opportunity for Narinder as well, to have him witness such a ceremony."

Great, Kallamar almost said, wearing a wincing smile.

At long last, the parties were underway. Kallamar had the main hall while Lilybell had the dining hall. Kallamar had the recorder player at his party and Lilybell had the harp player. Gentle music wafted through the air as a red sunset filled the dining hall. Everyone was gathered around the alcohol and food, engaged in their own conversations.

"What type of wine is this?" Lilybell asked Merryn, swirling the drink in a regular drinking cup.

"That's white wine," Merryn explained. "It uses only the pulp and juice of grapes instead of the whole fruit. You must have had only red in the mountains, didn't you?"

"Most people made their own beer," Lilybell said. She gave the wine a sniff, and then a small taste. "Mm, it's good!" She said, licking her lips.

"Hey, everyone!" One woman shouted, "let's play truth or dare!"

Lilybell, Merryn, Anna and a few women came over and formed a circle. The usual questions were asked, how many partners have you had, where did you have your first kiss, how did you lose your virginity, and the like. For dares, one girl had to put her hand in the outhouse toilet, another had to moon the bachelor party.

When it was Lilybell's turn, she quickly chose truth, not wanting to know what kind of dare they might have had in store for her.

"Is it true you and Lord Kallamar have had sex?"

The lamb blushed brightly. She might have known this was what they would ask. "Yeah."

"Ooh"s went around the circle as the other women closed in on her.

"Is he really big?"

Lilybell fiddled with her hooves as her blush grew deeper. "I don't know, I never slept with anyone else."

"So you gave your virginity to him?"

"Okay, that's more than one question," Merryn interrupted.

"But she chose truth!"

"How does he not split you in half?"

"Uh, he makes himself small like us so we can... you know, do it properly."

That just made the women more excited.

"Did he use his tentacles on you?"

"What other kind of magic can he do?"

"Did he give you an orgasm?"

Merryn's second attempt to derail the personal questions was just as fruitless as the first. Lilybell tried to answer everything to the best of her ability, but the more questions they asked, the more she felt like maybe she was better off lying at first.

"Okay, that's enough," Merryn said forcefully, standing up. The women started to complain, but she ignored them. "Sweetie, why don't you take Anna and see if she'll have anything to eat? She didn't have a lot for lunch."

Greatful for a chance to get away, Lilybell took Anna to the table, filling up her cup with more wine. Anna idly picked at a bread roll without enthusiasm, as if sensing Lilybell's discomfort.

"I'll be okay, Anna," Lilybell said, swallowing a mouthful of wine. "I hope Kallamar is having a better time than us."

Meanwhile, in the main hall, Kallamar would have given anything for any kind of interaction at all. He swirled his barrel of wine idly, bored out of his mind. The rest of the men were doing their best to stay away from him, trying not to look at him at all. Even Rowan was no help; he kept talking to other people and ignored Kallamar when he got too close.

"Where are they?" Rowan asked the shrimp follower frustratedly.

"Trust me, they'll be here. My sister said a few of her friends were interested."

A few minutes later the doors burst open. Four women and two men ran into the room, wearing very little clothing, some carrying tambourines and castanets. They began to dance wildly to the percussive music, and the men started hooting and clapping along. The recorder player matched their tempo and the room was filled with music and shouting.

Kallamar took that moment to finally grab Rowan's attention, wrapping a smaller tentacle around his arm so he couldn't escape. "What the hell is this?" He hissed.

"Just some entertainment," said Rowan innocently.

What started out as simple entertainment quickly devolved into debauchery. Adding alcohol to the mix was not helping in the slightest. Dancers were grinding on the men shamelessly while clothes were discarded and lost, and a few people vomited from the excess of beer and wine. Kallamar was certain a few people were having sex under the tables.

Kallamar couldn't remember the last time he has been so disgusted. This was no longer a party, it was an appalling, chaotic mess. He was so glad he didn't ask Shamura to come. They would have been so disappointed. And this was all supposed to be for him! He wondered how Lilybell's party was comparing. Surely Merryn had enough sense not to expose his fiancé to such nonsense.

Screw this, he thought, setting his barrel of half drunk wine on the floor. He wasn't having any fun and he missed Lilybell. Those were more than enough reasons to leave.

The party quieted down uncertainly as Kallamar pulled open the doors to the hall, then immediately picked up again as he stepped out. Rowan almost panicked, running towards the door, pulling one of the girls with him.

"Go after him," he ordered in a hushed tone, pressing a gold coin into her hand, "throw yourself at him, whatever you have to do! Just make sure he doesn't leave!"

"Whatever, you weird old man." The girl bounded off after Kallamar, who was quickly making his way to the dining hall. When she finally caught up with him she grabbed his robes to try to force him into stopping. "Lord Kallamar, wait!"

Kallamar just yanked his robe out of her hands, refusing to address her further.

The girl didn't give up. She jogged along beside him, trying to get his attention. "Why don't you come back to the party? I can entertain you!"

"I doubt that very much," he snapped.

"I can dance for you... surely there's some way I can keep you company?" The inflection in her tone implied that whatever she had in mind was far from innocent.

That made him stop and turn to her, but the look on his face was not what she had hoped for. Instead of looking interested, he stared down at her with a glare that made her veins freeze. "Why would I ever want you when I am already taken?" He snarled. "You could never compare to my Lilybell. She is worth more than a million of you. You are no more than a tramp compared to her."

The girl gaped at him, certain she'd never felt so insulted in all her life. No man had ever turned her down before. "B-but what can she give you that I can't?!"

"A charming personality for one." He turned to walk away. "Now be gone. Your face entices me to vomit."

Throwing her nose in the air, the girl stomped away as Kallamar went in the other direction. Rowan tried to interrogate her when she returned to the party but she shoved past him, grabbing a cup of beer and downing it all in one gulp.

A part of Rowan was relieved his plan had failed. Even after the alcohol, the temptation to cheat didn't even seem to enter Kallamar's mind, even when someone practically invited him to do so. He snuck off after Kallamar at a distance, peeking inside the dining hall when he was sure he wouldn't be seen.

"Kallamar!" Lilybell got up to go to him but began to wobble after a few steps. Kallamar rushed over to stabilize her. She giggled airily, her face flushed and her breath smelling mildly of alcohol. "I feel funny!"

"She's had a little bit to drink," Merryn explained, slightly worried that Kallamar would be upset.

Lilybell laughed again as Kallamar sat down on the floor, pulling her into his lap. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course, my love. I hope you are enjoying yourself." He smiled down at her, petting her hair gently.

"I feel better now that you're here," she said, grabbing his hand and placing a kiss on the black skin.

Rowan found himself smiling too. Maybe he was wrong about Kallamar. Maybe everything would be okay. I guess there's nothing I can do now, he mused, but there wasn't any sadness in his heart at the thought. I guess I have a god for a son-in-law. Damn it, I still have to pay those people.

Kallamar stayed at the Bachelorette party with Lilybell for the rest of the evening. The main hall was a mess of drunken disorder the likes of which the temple had never seen, or would see in many years to come.

#cult of the lamb #cotl kallamar #Kallamar #kallalily #oc x canon #canon x oc #cotl oc

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