#employee leave planner

[bpo-interview-tutorial]

Staff Roster planning using MS Excel

[coffee-and-geto]

“BE MY VOICE AND I CHOOSE YOU TO FILL THE VOID”

“Why a second chance when the first one didn’t work?” “Because we’re too stubborn, love.”

★ pairing: fashion designer! suguru geto x supermodel! reader

★ summary: after you broke up with suguru a few years ago, you swore you’d never have anything to do with him ever again… until new york fashion week arrived and you found yourself forced to take part in the event with suguru geto—aka your ex and one of the most famous personalities in the fashion world, as your fashion designer. but perhaps the latter will take advantage of the event to do his utmost to regain your heart.

★ warnings: +18 only, smut, modern au! (no curses), exes to lovers, geto is your ex-boyfriend, fluff, (light) angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety attack, bossy! reader, nobara is the reader’s assistant but also plays cupid, only one bed/second chance trope, jealous! geto, gojo makes an appearance because he’s a fashion designer too, switch! geto, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, handjob (m! receiving), body praises, fanart by @ / hiikeu.

★ wc: 15,257

“He wants you among his troupe.”

You nearly spit out the sip of your drink through the straw. “Excuse me?” you laugh out loud.

But even in front of the serious expression of one of the employees of the agency you work for, it’s hard to keep your own. A fit of giggles takes over your stomach, releasing uncontrollable laughter that echoes throughout your dressing room.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Nobara — your assistant — squeezes her planner against her chest — a nervous tic that has never been trivial to you. Silence finally returns to the room, and neither of the other two women utter a single word. The corners of your lips fall. “This is a joke, right?” you whisper breathlessly.

Nobara pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls for a few seconds before showing you an announcement from the official website of New York Fashion Week. She is followed by the employee who hands you a tablet screen displaying an email signed by someone you had erased from your life years ago:

Suguru Geto.

°°°°

“Next.” Suguru’s sharp tone cracks like a whip as another model steps onto the casting studio podium. His fist clenches nervously around the handle of the megaphone, resting its bell on the foldable wooden table.

In front of the silhouette of yet another candidate, Suguru’s gaze scrutinizes the model’s fine features that adorn her refined face with prominent cheekbones. A defined jawline. Hazel eyes and a slender body.

“Next,” Suguru repeats mechanically — perhaps because his eyes are desperately searching for your form? With each new woman, he hopes to meet your captivating gaze. And he almost systematically dismisses everyone when it’s not you?

“Mr. Geto, maybe we should—”

“Silence,” he cuts off without a glance at Manami, his assistant.

She sighs and offers an apologetic smile to the model who leaves the podium with a look of icy disappointment. Suguru’s right leg starts to twitch slightly in his chair—a sign of anxiety gradually eroding the calm he tries to maintain in his troubled mind.

“Night Skies: The Illuminated Darkness.” 

A relatively inspiring theme and quite easy to design. So why has no inspiration come to him since the announcement? Why do his thoughts constantly drift to outfits that only you deserve to wear, making him prefer to withdraw his participation rather than let someone else wear them?

Fuck.

After the next four hours, Suguru and Manami leave the casting studio for a break in the lounge. He leans against the counter, letting his obsidian eyes fix on a void, swept away by his overwhelming reflections. In the background, the coffee machine rumbles.

You had to join his troupe. Even though he already envisions a firm refusal from your agency. But he is ready to try anything for you — even risks that could endanger his career.

Manami clears her throat slightly and takes a hesitant step towards him. “Mr. Geto? Out of the three hundred top models proposed by partner agencies, we’ve only shortlisted four…” She fiddles with her nails painted in vermillion red, bites her lower lip, and adds, “And that’s under my insistence. At this point, I seriously doubt—”

“Write a letter to this agency,” Suguru cuts in once again without listening to a word of what she tried to explain. He hands her a business card from your agency and mentions your name. “You must know her. I want her among the models for my collection. Otherwise, I’ll cancel my participation,” he declares in an uncompromising tone.

Manami carefully takes the small card and studies it. She lets out a perplexed sigh and nods. “Alright.”

°°°°

“No, absolutely not! I refuse! Reply to him that it won’t be possible!”

“Miss, please—” Nobara tries to calm you and prevent you from committing murder against the top model manager of the agency.

“We’re talking about Suguru Geto! THE internationally renowned designer!” the manager yells with such vehemence that it surely carries well beyond your dressing room.

“I don’t give a fucking damn! There are thousands of models in the world! No one knows, so reply to this email with a fucking refusal!” you yell back just as fiercely. Your usually well-groomed hair is slightly disheveled by a few rebellious strands as agitated as your anger.

There is no way you’re participating in New York Fashion Week or any other event involving Suguru Geto. Not after everything that happened. 

Not after he abandoned you. 

No.

“But are you aware of what you’re saying—”

“Shut up! If you’re not happy, I’ll quit this damn agency right now! Do you think you’re the only one who wants me? I have hundreds who will be at my feet as soon as I’ll leave!” you spit after a bitter laugh.

Nobara’s soothing hands rest on your shoulders and force you to sit in a chair. Assured that you won’t attempt another assault on the manager, who has turned pale at your declaration, your ginger-haired assistant easily pushes the manager out, whispering to her not to set foot back in here until the refusal is sent to Geto.

She tries to argue one last time, her voice a bit more pleading and less aggressive, but Nobara slams the door in her face. She leans against it, sighs deeply, and closes her eyes for a moment. “Phew…”

As for your own state, ‘fury’ is the perfect adjective. Hair in disarray, cheeks flushed with anger, chest heaving with irregular, harsh breaths, and a vein throbbing along your neck; it’s as if you could turn your dressing room upside down at any moment.

Nobara heads to your automatic water dispenser and pours you a fresh glass. After ensuring you drink every drop, she notices you seem calmer.

Your bloodshot eyes meet her gaze, and she offers you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll personally make sure everything is sent properly.”

You nod and run a hand over your face to wipe away your overflowing emotions.

It’s crazy how just the mention of that cursed name can set you off. But the final straw was when your manager was informed of Suguru Geto’s request for you to join his models for New York Fashion Week. She insisted relentlessly despite your patience for a no.

She said she didn’t understand. 

Of course, no one could understand when no one knew that one of the world’s greatest designers had been your boyfriend before your careers took radically different paths. But how could you explain when he was the one who pushed you to break up with him, leaving you alone, lost, and broken with only an unknown fate to face without anyone’s help?

It was without anyone’s help that you built yourself into who you are today. 

Even less your international career.

All the agencies are at your feet, but the only person you wanted to see there wasn’t. 

So there was no reason to pay attention. 

You will not participate in New York Fashion Week. As long as it involves Suguru Geto, anyway.

°°°°

Mouth agape in shock, Suguru thinks what he sees before him is a prank. 

But it’s indeed a clear refusal from the agency you work for. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

NO.

Suguru storms out of his design office and rushes upstairs to his luxurious bedroom to rummage through his personal belongings. An old photo album is hidden under the piles of clothes in his dresser. He scatters his things carelessly, paying no attention to the mess, and with trembling hands, he drops to his knees, flipping through the album.

On each page, a plastic film covers photos of you and him. One — the most painful — is the first one he took at the beginning of your relationship with him. Both of you standing next to an ice cream vendor, radiant smiles on your faces with sun rays illuminating both your faces, you had your arms around Suguru’s neck. Another one, as he turns the pages. You, lying in his bed one morning. He had taken it the night you had your first time with him. Your figure, which he worships, is covered with his sheets, and your mouth is slightly open as you sleep. A cute little drool escapes from your mouth.

All these photos hold real memories. Proving that nothing was imagined by him when, in his moments of madness, he wondered how he could have ended up here if it all was real. His heart twists in his chest when his eyes catch a photo of him with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and your lips pressed against his cheek. Those flowers were the first Suguru had ever received. He had never received flowers — not even from his own family. You were the very first to give him any.

Suguru pinches his lips, lost in reflections that lead him to check your Instagram page. On your profile, your posts are often collaborations with luxury brands, your body wrapped in fabrics showing your silhouette in its best light, some old videos of you as a child that you wished to share with the world, or random photos of you in pajamas in front of your mirror or with your daily makeup.

He couldn’t help but watch your stories, your posts, your interviews, and your shows in the shadows, never intervening as much in public as in private. 

Suguru is obsessed with you. 

And he has never stopped being, even after you broke up with him years ago. He never wanted to end things with you. 

He pushed you to do it so as not to hurt you more than you would be.

It was when you announced the breakup that he felt all the accumulated resentment he had caused in your heart, and he was nostalgically happy for you. 

You no longer had to endure the pain of canceled dates, missed calls, his constant absence.

He knew, at the time, that he was hurting you. He knew you hid your wounds behind forced smiles and excuses you found for his lack of involvement and neglect without him even having to make them when his career started to take off in the fashion world. He understood that he didn’t deserve you.

Yet today, Suguru burns for you. 

He is ready to risk his career to find you and seek your forgiveness. 

He is ready to lose all his dignity, let you use him like a mere pawn, humiliate him, and break him. 

All that, just for you.

Even if he doesn’t deserve you, Suguru wants your forgiveness at all costs. 

Even if he doesn’t deserve you, Suguru wants to redeem himself to you. 

Leaving your Instagram page, he opens Twitter and tries to find a way to force your hand to participate with him in New York Fashion Week, to meet him, to allow him to do everything to deserve you again and no longer have any regrets. 

He taps the ‘New Tweet’ icon and writes words that may place his reputation on an unsteady platter that could fall at any moment.

°°°°

The grip around your phone threatens to make it explode between your fingers. Your knuckles whiten, your hand trembles, and your eyes burn as you read the few words on a Twitter post where you’ve been tagged. It’s as if this time, you’ll actually turn your dressing room and even your agency’s headquarters upside down.

“@reader’sagency. @reader, would you do me the honor of participating with me as a model at the next New York Fashion Week? :)”

Your eye twitches, and you robotically lift your head toward your assistant. “Nobara, I beg you. Pinch me, hit me, slap me, but tell me this is just a nightmare.”

She looks up from your phone and sighs with a forced smile. “It’s... a nightmare?”

You grab a cushion from your red velvet sofa and bury your face in it to muffle a long scream from the depths of your soul. Nobara chuckles and places a hand on your shoulder. “You can just refuse. I’m sure everything will be fine. A public refusal should calm him down,” she whispers.

“Have you seen the comments, retweets, and reposts?” you murmur in a small voice, your brain numb.

Nobara frowns and shakes her head before taking out her own phone. But you stop her by handing her yours without lifting your face from the cushion. “No... Already? But... He posted it less than twenty-four hours ago!” Nobara breathes out in astonishment, covering her mouth with her hand.

Indeed, even though Geto’s tweet is less than a day old, it hasn’t stopped an overwhelming number of internet users and fans worldwide from reacting strongly to the news. You could very well refuse publicly yourself or through your agency — even humiliate him by posting a screenshot of the initial private request that was rejected, making him look desperate and creepy. But that’s not the issue.

By daring to renew his request publicly as if the previous one never existed, he’s putting your reputation and your fans’ hopes — whom you cherish so much — at risk.

If you refuse, you risk disappointing many and tarnishing your image as an arrogant and condescending supermodel for refusing to participate in such a globally anticipated event with one of the best-known designers in the world — despite the fact that no one knows about your past connection with Geto.

The reactions are so hyped, so excited and amazed at the possibility of you and Geto forming a partnership that would result in something beyond imagination.

Suguru Geto has just forced your hand, hovering a threat over both your career and reputation, as well as his own. But you need to make a decision.

You lift your head from the cushion and take a deep breath to brace yourself for what you’re about to do.

“Nobara?”

°°°°

With one foot in a pair of shiny white stiletto sandals and an outfit of the same color, one of your bodyguards helps you step out of the black sedan with your first step onto the ground. You stand up elegantly, wearing dark sunglasses. You are escorted in front of a huge building — one familiar to you from the pages of fashion magazines you usually read — and the immaculate sliding doors open for you.

You stand in the middle of the enormous hall, head held high and one eyebrow raised. “Weren’t the other models supposed to be here at the specified time?” you ask Nobara, who hurries to join you at your side.

“That’s what the email indicated…” she sighs, busy arranging the white fur draped over your arms, framing your long strapless dress in the same color as your heels — a tribute to Marilyn Monroe. Nobara lifts her head with a worried frown. “He couldn’t have stood us up or changed the address at the last minute—”

A confident and cheerful female voice calls your name. In a synchronized movement, you and your assistant turn toward an elevator entrance where a fairly tall woman with a slender and elegant figure, dressed in a long sleeveless Byzantine purple dress, stands. Your two bodyguards follow you and Nobara to join the woman, but she raises a firm hand.

“Your assistant will suffice.” She smiles professionally, and you nod, entering the elevator with the other two women. Like Nobara, she holds a clipboard against her chest and almost looks at you with admiration. “It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

You offer her a polite half-smile, and the elevator begins to climb its endless floors.

“My name is Manami Suda, Suguru Geto’s personal assistant and one of his executives,” she continues, glancing at Nobara. “And you are?”

“Nobara Kugisaki, her personal assistant,” Nobara replies with equal seriousness, and a hint of pride fills your chest. “But since you are Mr. Geto’s assistant, that answers our question. Why are we the only ones to arrive at the agency on time? Where are the other models?” she asks, tilting her head to the side, skeptically.

A small chime announces the arrival at the very top floor, and the doors open to let the three of you out.

Manami doesn’t lose her smile and leads the way down a corridor with an immaculate gray carpet. Her black heels make muffled sounds with each step until reaching a door where she knocks three times. “Everything will be explained by Mr. Geto himself,” she assures, opening the door after a ‘come in’ is heard from the other side.

The voice, though muffled by the door, is easily recognizable. A bitter pang grips your heart, but you shake it off within seconds with a blink.

Manami steps aside and introduces you as you enter.

At the back of the office stands a black swivel chair facing away from you — masking the already known identity of the owner and adding palpable tension.

Manami discreetly leaves, closing the door silently, leaving you to face one of your worst nightmares. The chair turns to face you and Nobara, and the face of Japan’s most popular designer and couturier lays his dark eyes on you.

You remain secretly frozen a few meters away, back to the door, your eyes coldly staring at your ex.

Suguru Geto has always had a reputation for being a man of style, in his behavior, his language, and his way of dressing. While the basic suit he wears contrasts with the extravagant outfits that the wealthiest designers can afford — in this field, they are certainly experts, and some can wear clothes as expensive as the series of Picasso’s “Les Femmes d’Alger” paintings — his perfectly sculpted body and charm embellish the slightest thing he wears, even if it was straight from an old supermarket. But if there’s one prominent feature of his face that can match his advantageous physique (his body), it’s his hair. Being a chic, elegant, and refined man, Suguru is also known for his iconic long raven hair. With strands cascading down his back and bangs framing his temple, the half-bun at the back of his head has always earned him numerous compliments and collaborations with the most well-known brands for their haircare products.

Suguru’s piercing eyes narrow as his lips stretch into a smile. Your name rolling off his tongue gives you goosebumps. “Welcome. Please, have a seat.” With a broad gesture of his hand, he indicates two cocoa-colored leather chairs at the end of a ridiculously long glass table.

You take a seat without looking at Suguru at first, and Nobara seems to read your thoughts as she immediately asks, “Where are the other models?”

Suguru places his forearms on the table in a measured gesture, but as he responds, his gaze never leaves yours. “None are at this agency, it seems.” And it all feels as if asking such a question is stupid.

“That’s what was written in the email,” you reply in a dry voice.

“That’s what was written in the email,” Suguru confirms with a strange softness. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? If I hadn’t said that, you would have refused the meeting.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

Suguru’s smile widens even more as he continues, “Aren’t you happy to see me again?” And for a nanosecond, you thought you saw his irises darken.

Nobara alternates her gaze between you and Suguru, completely lost.

“Mr. Geto,” your tongue clicks against your palate, “I came here to discuss the initial progress of the collection you will present at New York Fashion Week. Nothing else.” You pause. “If it’s for any other subject, please address my manager, and I can leave right now.” Your frozen facial mask doesn’t falter at all.

“Awwww… You’re breaking my little heart, love—”

“Enough.”

Nobara looks dubious. “You… you already know each other?”

“We…” You pause, torn between the idea of confessing everything to Nobara or pretending nothing happened. “In the past. Before we became known,” you reluctantly admit. “But it doesn’t matter. I have nothing to do with anyone now.”

Suguru’s gaze darkens and never leaves yours. Yet, he doesn’t say a word, and an uncomfortable silence sets in.

Nobara decides to break it by clearing her throat and speaking again. “I— I see. I won’t say a word,” she murmurs.

You sigh and straighten slightly in your seat. “Fine. Let’s discuss the proposed theme.”

Suguru’s Adam’s apple moves as he swallows, and during the next half-hour, neither of you brings up your past relationship with Suguru again. The choice of the leading model was quickly settled on being you — because among all the proposals from partner agencies, no other model in Japan reaches your level of fame.

Suguru also doesn’t waste time revealing that he has selected very few models since the theme announcement. The delay will potentially impact the preparation and organization for New York Fashion Week, but he hasn’t bothered to explain why. He simply asked for your help with the rest of the selection.

You hesitated before accepting, finding it strange that someone like him is so behind. But how could you know that you are Suguru’s muse — his source of inspiration, the purpose of his existence? He is much more confident than a few weeks ago since he finally saw you again and ensured you decided to work by his side. It’s only a matter of time before you settle the score with the low blow he dealt you — something impossible to do with witnesses like Nobara around.

The agreements also included a trip from Tokyo to New York. The group will be accommodated in a secure, comfortable, and luxurious hotel until Fashion Week ends and preparations allow access to dressing rooms for each model.

This means being much closer to Suguru than expected...

°°°°

“What do you think?” 

“I’m not a stylist.” 

“That’s true; you’re more than that.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Come on… Don’t be so rude! I need your help!” Suguru grins, and you roll your eyes, noting the name of a model who just walked past. 

On the runway where hundreds and hundreds of models from all over the world are parading, you, along with Suguru — much to your dismay — are perched on a high platform giving a panoramic view of each model. Of course, he had to move his two-seater table just to spend time with you — a detail he didn’t hesitate to hide from you. What’s the point? he muses with amusement, glancing at you; from the side, he gets a view of your hair falling like a curtain along your cheeks, your nose bent over your clipboard as you jot down names of models that would be interesting to keep for Fashion Week. This poses no problem in itself, especially for an event like this.

If only your partner wasn’t Suguru Geto. 

Ugh.

“Help you? While I’m the only one noting names while you harass me with your pathetic attempts at conversation? Don’t pretend to ask my opinion when you’ve barely looked at more than ten models,” you retort irritably. The ballpoint pen rolls over the paper with obvious frenzy.

“‘Harass’ is a bit harsh,” Suguru comments, his lips pursed in a mockingly offended pout — just to hide his predatory smile. “I’d say I’m trying to have a conversation — something you, let’s be honest, avoid like the plague.” A smile curves his thin lips. “And then, why bother looking at what doesn’t interest me when I already have what I want. I’ve never bitten, you know,” he whispers, his eyes softened by a tenderness he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“You don’t have me,” you respond immediately. You raise your eyebrows and, without looking at him, you continue, “Oh really? You do have quite a resemblance to dogs,” You wrinkle your nose to sneer mockingly as he takes offense. It’s strange because you haven’t laughed in front of Suguru for years. But as expected, the laugh is not joyful; on the contrary, it’s meant to hurt him because you still can’t stand his presence — even less when it’s forced.

“Hey! You’re insulting me!” he frowns and wipes away a laugh. Suguru shakes his head and sighs. “How cruel.”

Your lips turn downwards, and you roll your eyes yet again (you could have won an award for the record number of eye rolls in such a short time). Ignoring the feeling of vice and hatred gnawing at your heart, you refocus on the runway several meters below. The blinding spotlights brilliantly illuminate all these models eager to participate in the highly anticipated Fashion Week alongside Suguru Geto, the internationally renowned stylist, and you, a supermodel equally famous — while you both are plunged into the shadows of the upper floor that looks more like a hallway where stage technicians usually come to secure and manipulate high-up equipment, rather than anything else. Especially when the provided table is just foldable wood and almost fragile to abrupt movements.

Your eye catches a rather tall model with long ebony hair and golden, radiant skin. Her silhouette seems almost ethereal, and it’s at this moment that you don’t regret for a single second having taken your life into your own hands when you were alone just to admire the beauty of all these women of various beauties, shapes, and ages. The female body is beautiful.

No, magnificent.

“That one…” you murmur, noting the candidate’s name announced by Manami below. You bite your lower lip in a concentration tic. “She’s perfect. We’ll keep her for later.”

Suguru nods, but his gaze hasn’t once rested on the model whose name you just mentioned. His irises don’t leave your features, which he has missed so much, especially at this distance. “Hmm…” he hums simply. He gets lost in his contemplation.

You haven’t changed a bit.

Even if your hair is styled differently, your makeup meticulously done, and your chic and luxurious fashion sense, to Suguru, you left him in the same state you are now. He knows your body by heart — not thanks to the photos he kept of you — but because your existence has marked his so much that your simple face is forever etched in his retina.

When Suguru says he is obsessed with you, he goes to the end of his words.

Of course, he regrets his past actions and seeks the right moment to ask for your forgiveness, but he couldn’t hold back.

It was stronger than him.

°°°°

In the spacious studio typically reserved for smaller fashion shows (the irony noted), today it is being used to give Suguru a first taste of what his final troupe was proposing. With your help, Suguru has finally moved on to the next stage just before the outfit creations begin.

Manami, who is backstage, is managing the music and the secondary effects. She sends a message to Suguru to indicate that the line of models can begin their walk before returning from the runway.

The music starts with a rhythmic tempo suited to the steps the models are to take. You are the last to go, which annoys you immensely. Your supermodel status is far more valuable than that of a mere model. Every aspect of your profession is a relentless effort; so seeing these poor models advance with such banal and mediocre strides makes you want to vomit.

Did you accept this for that?

Already, you’ve had to endure disdainful looks from the other models in the group regarding your popularity. It’s quite audacious for them to act so confident when their steps resemble those of a penguin, you can’t help but ponder.

When it’s finally your turn, you waste no time.

The music resumes, and you begin your first steps with a feline grace, almost silently gliding down the runway. Your high heels strike the ground with a hypnotic regularity, syncing with the pulsing beat of the music and its rhythmic cadence: a perfect synchronization. Each step is a demonstration of confidence and control, shoulders straight, chin slightly lifted, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Each step brings a breeze that lightly lifts your hair from your face, like a halo enhancing your display worthy of a true model. At the end of the runway, you pause gracefully before turning on your heels with impeccable precision.

As you return, it’s even more captivating as you continue to walk with palpable assurance, your hips swaying slightly, capturing everyone’s attention.

Your turn finally ends, and the desired effect has certainly been achieved: everyone’s eyes have been glued to you from start to finish. You also didn’t miss Suguru’s gaze fixated on you, his lips parted in captivation. This, of course, earns you the disdainful looks of the other models in the troupe, but a triumphant smile adorns the curve of your lips.

This is what it means to be a model.

“Very well, very well! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your very pleasant and… captivating performances,” Suguru announces energetically, standing in front of his chair with his arms open towards his official troupe.

Unsurprisingly, his gaze does not leave you and remains fixed on your silhouette as you move towards the backstage, back to him.

°°°°

You knock on the door, and Suguru’s muffled voice invites you in.

For a stylist and designer as popular as he is, Suguru’s sewing workshop is… more unconventional than you would have thought.

Indeed, several spacious tables are littered with sketch sheets—some colorful—fabrics of all colors, lengths, and textures. Crafting materials are scattered here and there, cluttering the passage along with open boxes on the floor, making it nearly impossible to take a step without brushing against piles of stuff that threaten to collapse. But at least the workshop isn’t filthy and retains the same aesthetic touch you’d find in TV shows or fashion serials.

At the far end of the room, a single chair is occupied by Suguru, who is sitting with his back to you. Hearing your approach, he turns towards you, his eyes fixed on a bright yellow measuring tape and a metallic needle wedged between his teeth, with a fuchsia pink thread running through the tip.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, moving towards you with the help of the wheels on his chair.

Feeling self-conscious, you take another step closer, and when he lifts his eyes to you, it feels as if you are naked before him: less than a step away, you are wearing a delicate sport bra that barely covers your chest, dreading any shiver that might reveal hardened nipples, along with a pair of equally revealing bicycle shorts in the same color. You had insisted to Manami on a firm refusal to wear any underwear in front of Suguru, without providing a reason.

Even though he has seen far more intimate parts of your body before, the current situation with him challenges everything.

A faint blush colors your cheeks, and without a word, Suguru extends his arms, his long, slender, pale fingers wrapping the measuring tape around your waist first. You can’t gauge the meaning of his gaze. How is he reacting internally right now?

But his mischievous remark answers you the moment after, “You okay? Are you still breathing?” The sarcastic tone immediately irritates you.

“And you’re taking the opportunity to enjoy the view, aren’t you?” you retort venomously. You’re about to continue spewing your hatred towards him when his hands gently — but with some firmness — grasp your hips and make you turn around. You stifle a moan at his touch, which sends a shiver through your body and, as you feared, your nipples harden. You step away from him abruptly when his breath grazes your side. “What are you doing?” you ask sharply, your arms futilely trying to cover your chest.

Suguru sighs. “Are you done acting like a kid?” He grabs you by the elbows and forces you to turn your back to him. He wraps the measuring tape around you again. “So no, I’m not enjoying the view, I’m doing my job.” He kneels to measure your hips, and with a glance downward, you see his amused smile. “You should have refused to work with me if it bothers you so much to be measured.”

“Ah, as if I had a choice?” you retort abruptly.

“You did,” he whispers as he stands up, brushing your hair away from your back, and for a moment, his warm breath caresses your shoulders. All you want right now is for him to place a tender kiss on the side of your neck, but the resentment towards him always takes over.

“No, you know that’s not true.” Your tone is harsh as a whip. “By the way, have all the other models been through here? I saw assistants with all this gear. Why am I the only one alone with you?”

Suguru grins. “The others went through with my assistants,” he replies with a chuckle before taking your bust measurements. “You’re the first I’m measuring, and the only one.”

“What game are you playing?” you murmur after a pause.

“None.”

He continues with the rest of your measurements — bust, thighs, legs, and finally arms. During this part, he takes an unusually long time to scrutinize you, and his head tilted close to your skin makes your heart race uncontrollably.

The final straw is when his lips accidentally brush against your arm.

“Stop that,” you warn him all of a sudden, stepping back. Your furious gaze seems to want to kill Suguru on the spot, and he loses his smile.

“I—”

“Stop pretending to be clueless, Geto.”

He already knows it will be hard to win you back, especially with this reaction he had long feared. But it had to explode sooner or later.

“If you think I’ve forgotten the past, you’re deluding yourself. The jerk you were is still the same in my eyes,” you seethe.

Suguru takes a step towards you in an attempt to beg you not to avoid him as you continue to back away. He murmurs your name in a plea. “I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be, but I did all this for you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to refuse a second time with—”

“I don’t want you to try to make up for it, not after all these years. Is that really why you asked me to come back? Because I’ve reached your level of popularity? My money? My body?” Your throat tightens further, and you squint your eyes to hold back your tears. “I will never forgive you, Suguru. I’m no longer the naive girlfriend who waits like a fool for someone who didn’t give a damn about her!”

“I— It wasn’t— Please, let me explain… I still love you as much as I did before, and I know I’ve been unworthy of everything you’ve put up with for me, but—”

You bitterly laugh in his face. “Liar! You’re lying, and you always have, even when you said you loved me! Your babble about what you were and what you are now is just the typical crap an toxic ex says when they want to win someone back. Did I really have a choice to come back to you? Do you think it’s a good method?”

With those words, you turn around and walk away towards the workshop door.

Suguru’s heart screams at him to follow you and beg on his knees for you to listen, but he knows your stubborn temperament. The only words that come from his mouth after his first failure are enough for him to know you’ve heard them, even as you fling the door open and rush out.

He knows you heard him.

“You will always have a choice with me.”

°°°°

“What do you mean, ‘the camera isn’t working’?” Suguru thundered with severity.

The entire group waiting for the final shoot (including you) turns towards the back of the studio to face a visibly agitated Suguru. He is handling the camera in every direction and then turns towards you.

You’re ready, dressed in the latest collection from the luxury brand you’re working with for Suguru’s troupe’s Fashion Week. There’s no problem on your end.

So why is he talking about a camera that isn’t working?

Especially when it’s your turn?

You take a hesitant step towards him, and Manami quickly avoids your questioning gaze, stepping away from her superior.

A few other models follow you, whispering incomprehensible things not far away to your ears, but all you care about is hoping you’ve misunderstood something.

“Find me another camera,” Suguru orders, violently throwing the one he had against a wall. The sound of metal shattering on the floor startles everyone.

Manami follows him out of the studio at a brisk pace. “Wait! Mr. Geto! Did you forget that this isn’t our studio? It’s the only camera we were able to borrow!”

“SO?” Suguru retorts acridly. “She’ll be the only one not photographed while she’s the star of MY troupe?” His tone rises significantly towards Manami. But he doesn’t spare a glance at you, even as everyone listens to their conversation intently. “Don’t forget that tonight the magazines will be prepared, and we won’t be here but at Gojo’s reception!”

All the other models turn to you in unison, watching you with astonishment.

“Too bad, I’m sorry but she won’t be in it!” Manami resigns with an even tone. “We need to leave in an hour, and the reception starts then!”

“Absolutely not! Find me a fucking camera so she’s in the magazine for tomorrow!” With those final words, Suguru opens the studio door and storms out, slamming it shut behind him with a loud bang.

Silence envelops the room, and you find yourself at a loss for words, your lips sealed and your voice stuck in your throat.

Manami sighs and finally turns to you, her face showing sincere regret. “I’m sorry… I know it’s really unfair, but I think you won’t be in the promotional magazine for the brand partnering with us…”

“I—” Your face falls completely, and you look in dismay at the broken camera on the floor from a few minutes ago.

“I’m truly sorry…” Manami murmurs, lowering her head in genuine remorse.

A few hours later, you’ve resigned yourself as well. The luxury brand partnering with Suguru’s agency had lent outfits from their latest collection for advertisement in fashion magazines. The models and the brand were to be highlighted, but this preview was unfortunately ruined by the delay caused by Suguru, who couldn’t complete the photo shoot in his own studio. On the same day — at a time too close to the reception hosted by his friend-rival Satoru Gojo, a stylist of equal renown—the weather and equipment decided to turn against you.

According to Manami, the camera borrowed from a nearby photo studio was sabotaged right after photographing all the other models. So, despite your star model status, you won’t appear in the magazine coming out. The lack of time also prevented photographers, as well as Manami and Suguru, from finding another camera in time, as everything was prepared at the last minute.

Your troupe isn’t the only one participating. Those of other stylists — like Gojo, for example — will also be featured in a fashion magazine with their partner brand and all their models. The shame will fall upon you as the one not included.

And it will be a scandal — you couldn't make it up.

But Nobara has been far more helpful than you would have thought. She learned the news that evening while helping you prepare in your dressing room for Gojo’s reception and was outraged by the situation. Most of all, she was scandalized to learn that someone had attempted to sabotage your photo shoot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Your name rolls off Satoru Gojo’s tongue as he bows respectfully and takes your hand, brushing his pink, thin lips against it.

“Likewise.”

Your raise eyebrow and small, sly smile don’t escape him, and he responds with a laugh that makes your heart flutter. Through his signature round sunglasses — Gojo’s trademark — his cerulean eyes sparkle with mischief. He gives you a wink, then releases your hand and offers you his arm. You take it without hesitation, appreciating the touch of a man like him.

The reception hall is packed with models and stylists; some are Japanese, while others come from different corners of the world, ‘passing through’ before heading back to New York. Indeed, the trip is fast approaching, and this evening is one of the last things you’ll need to face before traveling to the other side of the world.

Chandeliers light up the marble floor with tiny reflections that resemble stars. Tables lined against the walls overflow with dishes and canapés — along with chocolate fountains and desserts. Small groups are gathered in every corner of the room, and the dance floor is filled with couples or partners dancing amidst the exceptionally chic ambiance.

“I’m meeting you in the flesh,” Gojo murmurs, casting a flirtatious glance at you. This man has always had the reputation of being exceedingly handsome and tall. Today, you confirm it.

In his immaculate tuxedo, Satoru Gojo walks with you through the room, maintaining a perfect conversation without awkward pauses or questionable vibes. He is exquisite, charming: everything a woman could dream of.

“Few people get to meet you up close,” you add with a light giggle. You adjust your hold on his arm and look up at him. “I heard you’re also participating in the New York Fashion Week.”

“Indeed.” He takes a glass of champagne and hands it to you. “It would have been a pleasure to work with you, though,” he murmurs with a wry smile.

“I would have loved that.” Your gaze sweeps across the room as you take a sip of champagne. “It’s a shame I went with Mr. Geto.”

“Oh yes, Suguru. My eternal rival. I was surprised by that Twitter post. A model like you… should be among the best, and unfortunately, Suguru is one of them.”

“Do you think so, Mr. Gojo?”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you a bit closer as he stops near a table with canapés, not far from a window. “Call me Satoru,” he says, looking at you over his sunglasses and taking a mini macaron.

You pick up one as well, and Suguru’s figure passes by you, too quickly for you to understand what’s happening but close enough to notice his gaze on you and Satoru.

“Would you be interested in working on a future collection with me after Fashion Week?” Satoru asks, his attention completely focused on you.

Your blood rushes in your ears as you feel his breath on your lips and you hold back the urge to lean in and kiss him.

“With pleasure, Satoru,” you respond with a smile as playful as his.

“Perfect.” His face lights up, and he is about to say something when he is interrupted by a trio of models approaching you.

“Excuse us, Mr. Gojo,” one of them coos with a sugary voice, batting her eyelashes.

“Can this wait?” He rolls his eyes without any shame. “I’m busy.” He pulls you closer to him with a firmer, more possessive embrace.

Without wasting any time, he takes you out of the reception hall, where a few people are lingering and chatting in a slightly more intimate setting. Thick crimson velvet curtains adorn the various entrances, and Satoru leads you further in.

Your cheeks flush in reaction to the pleasant situation you’re in. Your mind even begins to compare him to Suguru...

“Have I told you how beautiful you are, especially in that dress?” Satoru whispers near your ear, his voice low and warm.

“No,” you murmur, dazed by his hand resting on your lower back, his thumb making gentle circles.

Satoru leans in and his lips brush against yours. “May I?”

You nod, aware of what’s to come as his lips slowly capture yours in a soft, needy kiss. Your lips respond immediately, and Satoru’s two hands join behind your back to guide you into a room that looks like a luxurious bedroom.

Without breaking the kiss with its wet sounds, your back meets the soft surface of a mattress, and you’re already panting. You know that with him, you won’t regret doing anything.

Satoru’s heavy breathing moves away from your pink, swollen lips to approach your bare collarbone and kiss it with those same lips. With his hand gently caressing the back of your thigh, which you lift and drape around his waist, Satoru uses his nimble fingers to slide down the thin strap of your dress. Your chest rises and falls with the sensual tension descending upon you. Your fingers help him lower your dress, first revealing your bare breasts, and a flush colors your face.

“Beautiful, sweetheart,” he purrs in your ear, taking pleasure in depositing a line of soft, affectionate kisses along your neck and down to your chest. Satoru stretches his lips into a smile against your skin and lightly touches the swell of your breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

A moan escapes you, and you arch your hips to rub against him desperately. His bulge becomes more prominent and presses against your own underwear, adding friction that makes your core sensitive. “Satoru…” you pant softly, stroking his snow-white hair as he lavishes your breasts with wet kisses. “More…”

He grins and returns to your lips, whispering “Adorable…” while sliding your dress down further.

But the door to the room suddenly opens, revealing a frozen Suguru standing before the scene. You and Satoru immediately turn your heads toward the intruder and pull away from each other abruptly.

But it’s already too late, as neither of you have time to say a word before Suguru turns and leaves as quickly as he arrived, his face as pale as a sheet.

An unusual pang tightens in your chest, and you sit up from the bed, overwhelmed by a sense of guilt. But why? Why feel this way?

You sigh, and Satoru shakes his head. “He won’t say anything,” he reassures you, reaching out a hand to stroke your cheek.

You don’t push him away, but he understands that you wouldn’t want to go any further with him tonight.

°°°°

“Here… Lift your chin…” Suguru takes a photo with a sharp click. “Perfect…” he murmurs to himself, his tone filled with admiration.

Sitting on the floor of Suguru’s photography studio in yet another outfit from the luxury brand partner, you give him a profile shot, your chin lifted in a dreamlike expression of devotion. For another photo, you lie on your side, your eyes fixed directly on the lens.

Suguru, for his part, doesn’t hesitate to give his best effort to capture the most beautiful photos he’s ever taken in his career. He insisted on handling it personally — despite what happened less than two days ago at Satoru’s reception. He even came up with an idea to make up for the consequences of his delay with the magazine published for all the participating Fashion Week troupes in New York. The scandal over your absence, despite being one of the featured models, had shaken most social media, and indeed, enough for Suguru to come up with a plan that would do justice to you.

What better way than to discuss with the luxury brand partner to release an entire magazine featuring you as the sole model? You would showcase the clothes that weren’t worn due to the lack of time. The success and attention would be all focused on you — spotlights fixed on you.

Because you deserve it.

No matter how long it takes Suguru.

He vowed to do everything to make amends.

So that’s why you find yourself alone in the studio with him, posing in outfits that shake him so much that he’s suggested taking a break twice to calm his trembling hands.

Two days later, the magazine is finally out, with you as the star, once again shaking up social media and causing a wave of appreciation from fans. At your finest, every page shows only you.

You, the heart’s desire of Suguru Geto.

“Have you seen the reactions?” Suguru asks as he approaches you while you’re busy admiring the sky and the skyscrapers from one of the agency’s balconies. Suguru slides the glass door closed and joins you. “Am I bothering you?”

You sigh.

“Come on, at least thank me for doing such a good job. You look stunning in all the photos.” He has a smirk and nudges you in the ribs as he leans his forearms on the glass railing. “And you always have been.”

You give a subtle smile but don’t immediately respond. You leave a small silence between the two of you. For the first time in years, Suguru’s presence doesn’t bother you as much.

“Thanks, I suppose,” you murmur. Without looking at him, you continue, “It’s nice of you to do this.”

“I did it for you,” Suguru breathes, his heart tight.

You nod. Lately, it feels like you don’t quite know how to react. All these compliments, the fact that he hasn’t changed his behavior after catching you with Satoru (he’s even become even more gentle)... It’s a lot to take in.

You eventually clear your throat. “Well, I think—”

“Wait.” He turns his head toward you. “Please.”

The note of pleading is the only detail that brings your feet back to the railing.

He lets a light silence linger, not saying a word. A breeze brushes both your faces, like cool water on a tired face.

Perhaps it’s this that makes Suguru speak up, saying your name.

“You’ve become someone since then,” he whispers with a faint smile. “I’m proud of you.” And oh, how you wish you could erase the blush spreading across your cheeks! “I don’t want to pretend like nothing happened anymore.” He turns fully toward you, the wind whipping his long raven hair and his obsidian eyes scrutinizing you. “I haven’t forgotten you. I’ve never forgotten you, actually.”

His sudden declaration catches you off guard. Why is he saying this? You already knew it. And your behavior towards him gives an unspoken response. You simply turn your head towards him without moving your body, with a forced nonchalance. He mustn’t see what he still evokes in you after all these years.

“Not a single day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. I know I hurt you, and coming back now is probably not the best way — especially after I pushed you away.” He takes a step towards you. “And I want to win you back.” You prepare to retort, eyes narrowing, but he cuts you off immediately. “I know. And it’s not because you’ve become a famous model. Far from it.”

He repeats your name once again.

But this time, his tone is different.

His voice returns to what it was so long ago. The voice he used to whisper in your ear in bed, when you were standing in a supermarket line, and on the phone.

The thorny brambles of your heart wrap painfully around you, reminding you of what he became later.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Your lips press together, and you start to pull away from the glass railing.

“Give me a second chance, I—”

“No. There’s no point.”

Your steps move closer to the glass door, but Suguru grabs your hand.

“Please, let me at least explain—”

And your hand tears away from his grasp with an insensitivity hidden beneath its opposite in your heart. “We were perfect, Geto. Incredibly perfect. But now, I really wonder if you ever truly loved me,” you admit without any warmth.

“I did, and I still—”

“No. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been increasingly distant, avoiding our dates as your career took up more and more of your life.” You take a trembling breath meant to chase away the tears from your eyes, but it’s in vain. Your voice quivers. “At least you didn’t give up on your dreams for someone. Even less for love. And for a love that only brought you pain after it left you…”

“Love,” Suguru pleads in a heart-wrenching whisper. He takes another step towards you, arms outstretched, but you shake your head.

“But at least, I can thank you for what I’ve become today. I’ve become the person that little me always dreamed of being. Thanks to your departure from my life.”

The words slap and scratch him violently.

You turn on your heels and open the glass door, casting one last glance back at him, tears streaming down your face, smearing your mascara.

“So don’t ruin it all.”

°°°°

As scheduled, the private jet successfully dropped Suguru’s entire troupe at a New York airport less than a week before Fashion Week, where a luxurious van awaited your arrival. As soon as you stepped inside, fuchsia purple LEDs assaulted your eyes, and a multitude of leather seats were lined against the vehicle’s walls. At the very back, there was a mini-bar stocked with alcoholic beverages and spaces near the seats featuring multifunctional drawers: a retractable coffee machine, a selection of accessories and makeup products, as well as blankets, sleep masks, and other handy items. Near the driver, who greeted the troupe with a nod, a tablet fixed to the wall allowed you to change the background music at will.

Without delay, everyone rushed to the seats and chatted merrily over drinks and snacks as the journey finally began. All the models’ assistants were allowed to join the trip, which meant you found yourself laughing with Nobara about the different shades of blush provided in one of the drawers.

She took out her phone and suggested doing an Instagram story, which you accepted without hesitation. You were soon joined by the others, and a group photo was taken by Suguru. To your great surprise, you participated with a small pose. It was also posted on Suguru’s agency’s Instagram, and Nobara quickly showed you the reactions. For the past three weeks, she has almost been gushing on your behalf over the wave of positive responses you received following your appearance in the latest leading fashion magazine in the United States — even despite the success that Satoru Gojo’s own troupe has also enjoyed.

But it has also been three weeks since you last spoke to Suguru following your conversation with him. Throughout the journey to the hotel — where you will stay with your troupe for the rest of Fashion Week until its end — you couldn’t help but have unintentional eye contact. Fortunately for you, he didn’t make any attempts, and somehow, you would have liked to have Suguru in your life once more — just one last time.

But your bitter past with him still haunts your dreams, so that’s out of the question.

A few hours later, the van drops the troupe off in front of the famous hotel, but to everyone’s great surprise, a crowd is packed around the entrance. Security is pushing back some people protesting that they’ve been queuing for hours, and Suguru steps outside to observe what’s happening.

“They were right. The hotel is packed.” Of course, all due to Fashion Week taking place just a few kilometers away. Celebrities, high society, and tourists alike, the gigantic hotel promises not to be easy for the model troupe and Suguru himself. He signals the driver, who contacts security agents and bodyguards via his walkie-talkie to approach the van so that the troupe can either queue or simply navigate through the crowd.

So, with further delays and heightened security, a decision was made regarding the group: it was divided into several smaller groups so everyone could pass without issues. Some models have already gone to the reception and are enjoying their rooms, while you find yourself paired with…

…Suguru.

And last in line.

Neither of you speaks a word, and you are engrossed in your phone, trying your best to ignore him. On the other side, your assistant with ginger hair, Nobara, has asked if it bothers you that she takes a trip to do some shopping in New York— a rare opportunity for the young woman. How could you refuse her? How could you say that you don’t want to be alone with Suguru, even if it’s for the sake of organization? Being stuck in a line with him is uncomfortable?

You finally sigh in relief when your turn comes after forty minutes of waiting while other customers check in.

Bodyguards step aside, both of your luggage in their arms, waiting for a word from you.

The receptionist clears her throat and squints at the screen of his computer. “I apologize, but... I think there’s a reservation issue with your rooms.”

“What do you mean?” Suguru and you ask in unison.

“Um... There’s only one room reserved for both of you.”

The response hits your ears like thunder. You blink, the embarrassment of the situation rising to your cheeks. You don’t even dare to glance at Suguru. “Then book me another room,” you request in a measured tone.

The receptionist discreetly elbows her colleague, who looks up at you. “I— Miss, you are the last guest with Mr. Geto for the coming weeks, and there are no more rooms available…”

For the next five minutes, you try every possible way to avoid being alone in a single room with Suguru. But it’s in vain, as you end up in the infamous room with the receptionists offering a myriad of apologies, blaming their oversight regarding the reservation.

In the room, you stand, boiling with anger as the bodyguards set down your luggage and leave. One of the women tries to divert your attention from your ready-to-explode gaze by pointing out an undisturbed sofa — of course — where one of you might sleep.

But a single glance is enough to see that even your own feet wouldn’t rest on it. The receptionists leave the room in their little heels, and you sit on the firm sofa. You grimace and massage your temples while Suguru has not said a word since entering the room.

He takes a few steps towards the bed and places a hand on the mattress, so soft and comfortable that his fingers almost sink into it. “You can take the bed if you want,” Suguru offers with a calm and kindness that makes you grit your teeth. “I can take the sofa.”

Your body is in such turmoil that if you stay one more second in the room with him, you might explode — literally. So, you don’t respond and rush to your luggage, driven by the need for space. You pull out some comfortable clothes and retreat to the bathroom.

A small sigh of exasperation from the main room still reaches your ears.

You lock yourself in and collapse on the floor, groaning with frustration.

Damn it.

Why does this only happen to you?

If a shower seems to have calmed your nerves a bit, you would have preferred not to have decided to shower right away because, barely dressed in a loose t-shirt and pajama shorts, hotel staff members are gathered around the sofa and start carrying it out of the room.

In shock at the realization of the situation, you call out to them. “Hey! We need that sofa!”

One of them turns his head towards you nonchalantly. “There’s been another reservation issue. We need this sofa for others in a much more urgent situation than yours, miss.” He adjusts his hat as a gesture of apology and leaves the room as if nothing happened, taking with him the only thing that provided a slim chance of escape — however slim — to avoid Suguru.

Suguru stands there, arms hanging, too stunned by what’s happening to react. He blinks several times without saying a word.

This is all just a nightmare.

°°°°

“I’m not going to break my back sleeping on the floor, and neither will you. Or is that what you want?” Suguru nearly barks as he slips under the covers.

“There’s no way I’m sharing a bed with you!” you retort in the same tone, arms crossed over your chest.

“Stop being so prissy for two minutes, will you? It’s not like we haven’t done this thousands of times before.” He rolls his eyes and finally lies down.

The comment hits your chest like a sharp arrow. The already horrifically awkward situation combined with Suguru’s reasonable demeanor, which only seems to make things worse, makes you look simply ridiculous for not cooperating out of pride.

So, you find yourself under the covers, forcing as much space as possible between you and Suguru, trying to stay as far away as you can. Both of you have turned your backs to each other, nerves too frayed to say anything without igniting yet another argument.

But Suguru closes his eyes with a smile on his lips that night, noting in the back of his mind to thank Nobara as soon as he has the chance for agreeing to his ridiculous plan of deliberately booking a single room for both of you.

°°°°

That night, your sleep is much more restless than usual. You have sleep troubles, but this night they seem to intensify despite your peaceful breathing, which Suguru uses as a lullaby to fall asleep. You toss and turn from time to time, with your leg carelessly hanging out of the bed or an arm too close to him. A dangerous position where you might easily slip off and fall.

When Suguru feels the sheets pulling away from him as he’s about to fall asleep, he turns around and catches you just before you fall. With a pounding heart, he pulls you a little closer to him and finally lets you go.

Unaware in your sleep, you roll towards him and your fingers cling almost desperately to his t-shirt. He freezes and doesn’t dare move, hoping you won’t wake up so he can extricate himself from the embrace you’ve claimed. Your arms drape around his shoulders and your legs seek to wrap around him like a koala.

“Sugu…” you murmur in your sleep. Your face contorts into a small frown.

His nickname is a purr to him. He’s tempted to push you away, but your slight frown, seeking comfort, makes him relent, and he holds you completely in his arms. Your nose nestles into the crook of his neck and you hum before letting out a small snore.

Maybe Suguru is dreaming — amidst the dim light of the room and your two blurred bodies. Nevertheless, he rocks you gently in his arms, holding the most precious thing to him close.

°°°°

Your dream continues where you’re alone, nestled in your bed — yes, it must be that. Finding yourself in the same bed as your ex is just a nightmare.

Or maybe a dream.

Warm, sweet whispers envelop you in a comforting embrace.

“Forgive me, love. I’m sorry… I love you so much.”

These distant words soothe you enough when your sleep is half-awake, with Suguru’s body and voice surrounding you. You should push him away, but everything around you feels so dreamlike. So why not give in for once when you can’t in real life? After all, it’s just a dream for one night.

Nothing can happen to you.

Especially at a moment when your heart wants to accept these pleading whispers of forgiveness that will probably never happen in real life.

°°°°

A warm ray of sunlight tickles your cheek, and you hum as you bury your head against something firm and comfortable that envelops you. Arms rub your back, and you smile, deciding to give in to the warm embrace. Something places a gentle kiss on your temple, encouraging you to stay in bed a little longer.

Before a knock at the door jolts you from your comfort.

Nobara’s voice is heard from the other side. “Are you awake?” she asks out loud. “Almost everyone is already ready!”

You open your eyes at the same time as Suguru, and your noses almost touch. It’s a close call not to scream and almost jump out of your spot. Dazed and still groggy from sleep, neither of you says a word, only muttering a few curses about the alarm not going off.

You rush to do your makeup and put on your outfit, as by 11 a.m., at the very place where the last preparations for the show will be made, hundreds of fans, journalists, and paparazzi will be lined up behind barriers or security ropes, shouting for autographs or even a smile. So there’s no time to waste; you need to cover your tomato-red complexion with foundation.

Downstairs in the hotel, the rest of the crew is waiting for both of you, and others arrive at the last minute — some even with their poodles. To your great relief, no one seems to suspect anything about Suguru, whom you carefully avoid even after arriving at the Fashion Week preparation area.

As you step out of the black sedan, piercing fan screams ring out, eagerly waiting for you to approach them: banners with names written in capital letters, notebooks, and hands outstretched almost desperately.

On the red carpet and under the bright morning sun, female fans call out your name, and you turn with a smile to approach them behind the security barrier. You spend about ten minutes taking selfies and signing autographs with the rest of the crew until one girl, after you’ve signed her autograph, speaks to you again. “It’s incredible that you’re working with Suguru Geto! I never thought I’d see this day, so I’ll be here to watch you walk the runway!” she exclaims with stars in her eyes.

Your smile freezes at the mention of Suguru, as you’re constantly reminded that no one but you and Suguru know what happened between you two. You swallow and regain your composure. “Oh, honey, you’re adorable. I’m glad you’re coming. I hope we’ll run into each other again.” You then give her a final wink and rejoin your group.

Nobara catches up with you a few minutes later in your dressing room with a smile and quietly closes the door. You collapse onto a couch and sigh, hiding your face in your hands.

°°°°

“You’ve measured me before.”

“I lost them.”

“Liar.”

Suguru lets out a small laugh and grabs his measuring tape before approaching you. “It’s just my job, love.”

“You’re playing around,” you accuse with a pout, and he kneels in front of you to measure your legs and waist.

His movements are precise, slow, meticulous, and attentive. Even his gaze doesn’t fall inappropriately on you, a look of respect filling his entire being, guiding him gently with that eternal mischievous smile that reminds you of Satoru’s.

“Don’t give me that pout, now,” Suguru whispers as he stands up with a sigh.

Today, he’s wearing a simple white shirt under a pair of black pants and a matching blazer — perfectly tailored, of course. An unfair perfection. Among all the exes you could have had in your life, it had to be Suguru Geto—the man with a beauty almost impossible to rival, and who clearly shows a refusal to let you go. And the worst is the still-fresh memory from the night before with the image of a half-asleep Suguru against you — you in his arms. If you loathe yourself for what happened, why does his embrace comfort you so much? If you truly hate Suguru, why do you show such weak resistance to both his gentlemanly behavior and his irresistible charm?

“And there we go,” Suguru announces softly with his notepad in hand. “Lovely as always,” he adds with his eternal smile. “Hey!” You punch him in the bicep, and he steps back, laughing.

“Don’t mess with me,” you grumble, still pouting.

When was the last time this kind of situation happened?

When you two were still together.

And is forgiving him a good idea after all?

“I wasn’t messing with you, love,” Suguru replies quietly. He locks his eyes with yours to capture all your attention. “You’ve always been beautiful. And that will never change, even if you turn into a slug.” He grins at your comical look of disgust.

"A slug? You’d still choose me even if I were a slug?" you repeat, not convinced at all by his promises.

Suguru scoffs and moves closer, facing you directly. “No matter what you are in any lifetime, it will always be you that I choose, again and again.” He slowly lifts his hand and places it on your cheek. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, and your guard weakens. His words, spoken with sincere tone, float like clouds in the dressing room-turned-sewing workshop.

You remain as vulnerable with Suguru Geto — despite years of building a fortress to avoid falling back into the state you were in years ago. Yet, you are in a massive denial, giving a semblance of change in your life. You haven’t erased all feelings for Suguru. You’ve simply buried them in a corner of your heart and forgotten where—neglecting the risk they might resurface someday.

You look up at him, your lower lip trembling. “Then why didn’t you in this one?”

The question seems to catch him off guard, as his lips part and an equally vulnerable look appears on his face. He’s about to respond when someone knocks on the door.

“Mr. Geto? Are you finished?” Manami’s voice calls from the other side, sounding slightly concerned.

You both immediately step away from each other, and the tension between you dissipates, replaced by the usual coldness.

Suguru clears his throat, runs a tired hand over his face, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Uh, yeah, yeah. You can come in, Manami.”

°°°°

Less than two hours before the main moment, you are practicing breathing exercises to calm the stress of a runway show. You’re wearing one of the luxurious outfits designed by Suguru himself, and if that alone isn’t overwhelming enough, an invisible vise is tightening around your chest, making your breathing heavy and your lungs congested.

You grimace at the sensation and groan as your heart beats more erratically than expected, and tremors run through your limbs. You can’t have a panic attack now.

No.

Not when Nobara isn’t by your side to help you relax.

Staying locked in a stuffy dressing room won’t help, but the very idea of stepping outside paralyzes you. You need to wait patiently for the makeup artists to finalize your look, and it only makes you more impatient and on edge.

Someone knocks at your door and asks to enter.

Suguru.

You open your mouth to utter even a sound, but anxiety wraps around your throat and chokes you. You gasp for air, your hands sweaty and cold, slipping from the back of the chair you’re clinging to, and you collapse to the floor.

The noise is enough for the door to burst open, and Suguru rushes in, dropping to one knee and taking you into his arms.

“Love, what’s happening?” Suguru murmurs as you cling to him as if your life depends on it.

The panic attack gradually overwhelms you, and you start crying in front of him. Thank God your face is only covered with skincare, but tears are streaming down your cheeks, mingling with your grimace and your difficulty breathing.

“I…” Then a hiccup takes over. You try to inhale, but as soon as your lungs fill, the air cuts off and doesn’t pass through. You keep trying, but all you manage is to cry without stopping.

Suguru frowns. “You… Wait.” He slides one arm under your knees and back to lift you easily and place you on a sofa. “It’s going to be okay, my love… Everything will be fine… Do the same thing I do.”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes to prevent the blurred vision from making it even harder to see Suguru helping you. He places his hand on his chest and does the same for you. “I’ll count to three and you breathe in very slowly, okay? Same for exhaling,” he murmurs with all tenderness and patience. His chest rises slowly in sync after he counts to three. The air flows more smoothly now. Encouraged by this, he smiles and holds his breath. He nods for you to do the same, intertwining your fingers with his and exhaling at the same slow pace. The icy air leaves your lungs at the same time as your racing heartbeats.

For the next five minutes, a silence punctuated by controlled, rhythmic breathing fills the dressing room. You eventually manage to regain a normal breath and quell your panic attack, leaving only a few residual hiccups.

Suguru leans toward you and kisses your sweaty forehead. With your still-trembling arms, you grip his to keep him close and draw him against you, the tip of his nose brushing against your neck. The unexpected action makes him freeze, and up close, you can see goosebumps spreading over his skin. With hesitant movements towards each other, you both hold each other gently in a comforting embrace.

“Suguru…” you whisper, your voice hoarse from the recent panic attack. You take the opportunity to bury your head in the crook of his neck.

He immediately welcomes your touch and affectionately kisses your cheek. “I love you, love. Do you feel better?”

His affirmation reaches your heart so strongly that, once again, tears well up and you force yourself to blink them away. Suguru notices and a worried crease forms between his eyebrows. For a moment, his chest against yours allows you to feel his racing heart. “You—”

“I’m better,” you interrupt weakly. “Thank you…”

He sighs in relief and gently caresses your hair absentmindedly. His fingers weave skillfully through your strands, bringing back a memory that hits you hard: him comforting you for various reasons when you were together, that same hand resting and caressing the same spot on your head. So for once in years, you let yourself indulge in this nostalgic feeling without pushing it away.

However, you can’t prevent a burning question from crossing your lips. “You love me?”

Suguru reacts immediately. He carefully pulls away from you and helps you sit up on the sofa, wiping the dried tears from your beautiful cheeks. He smiles at your flushed face and bloodshot eyes. “Of course I love you. I’ve told you. I’m sorry, and even if you don’t accept it, I’ll do everything to make you forgive me.” He kneels in front of you. “I didn’t want to break up with you because it would have broken my heart, so when I saw that my career was starting to affect our relationship and I couldn’t take care of you as you deserved, I thought it would hurt less if I let you detach from me.” His shoulders shake with a sigh. “Forgive me, my love. I want to make amends and—”

“But why a second chance when the first one didn’t work?”

“Because we’re too stubborn, love.”

His words, spoken with such sincerity, reach your heart directly.

You take his face in your hands and press your lips against his. Suguru gasps slightly in surprise but quickly follows your lead, his hesitant hands sliding to your waist to deepen the contact.

Fuck.

How he missed you…

With every kiss, you reclaim Suguru’s lips as if one moment without them would take away your life. They are so soft and warm, as alluring as they are addictive, making it almost impossible for your body to pull away from him. It’s only when you feel that time seems to be passing a bit too quickly that you finally pull away from him.

“I…” A semi-horrified expression pulls at your face as you’ve just initiated a kiss with your ex—the one you’ve been avoiding for months. You shake your head and back away, stammering, “Sorry… That was a mistake, I—”

Suguru utters your name in a pleading tone. “Please… I’m begging you. Give me another chance. I only need one word. One word, and I’ll stay. One word, and I’ll leave and never come back to your life.”

“You…” If you’ve never been short of sharp retorts for Suguru, today is a new experience.

One word from you, and Suguru will accept your choice. For any other ex you might have had, you wouldn’t have even attempted to participate or do anything that involved them. But with Suguru…

“S-Stay…” you murmur in a broken voice, almost throwing yourself into his arms. He wraps you in his embrace and rocks you, his breath quick. “Stay, Suguru…” You break down, tears returning with a vengeance, flooding your face.

“I love you, sweetheart. Forgive me…” And he continues to repeat these words until someone else knocks on the door.

He prepares to pull away, but you hold him back, not wanting him to leave you once more. With a swift move, he crouches and rests his forehead against yours. “I have to go. You’re going to do great. I have no doubt, and you have no reason not to, understood?” His breath, as warm as his hands around your head, brushes your nose, and you sniffle one last time, nodding. “You’ll be perfect. I’ll watch and wait for you at the show. You’re going to shine.”

°°°°

The lights in the hall dim, plunging the audience into darkness. A bright spotlight illuminates the runway as the music begins to resonate throughout the fashion studio, amplified by the speakers.

“Here we go… In three… two… one…” Manami makes a frantic arm gesture to signal the lineup of models to step onto the runway.

The first model makes her entrance, wearing a spectacular outfit that instantly captivates the audience, with audible “oooohs!” reaching even backstage where you await your turn with a suffocating pressure. You are among the last to walk, but the distinct sound of heels clicking in rhythm with your heartbeat still reaches your ears.

But there is no room for panic now that you no longer carry the weight of your past relationship with Suguru.

He will be there to admire and reassure you from afar.

Manami gives a final signal and your lineup thins, giving you the space needed to step onto the stage.

The outfits parade down the runway, each one more impressive than the last. The theme of the collection is clear: dark silhouettes adorned with sequins and stars, reminiscent of a starry night sky. Your own outfit, the centerpiece of the collection, is bound to captivate the awed spectators. The black, sparkling dress catches the light with every step, creating an illusion of a moving firmament. Murmurs of admiration fill the room first, followed by camera clicks and cheers as you appear at the first quarter of the runway.

Taking a deep breath, your heels glide as elegantly as ever down the runway. One foot in front of the other, the sole firmly planted but almost silently advancing on the runway, chin up, and a neutral expression on your face; if anyone had never heard of your modeling career, your impression answers immediately.

Your hips sway slightly from side to side in the same entrancing rhythm as the powerful beat of the music, giving an unmatched grace to your walk. Reaching the end of the runway, your gaze falls on the front row where recognizable men have their eyes fixed on you, feeling the palpable energy of the room.

The scene lasts only a second, but it feels like an eternity.

Satoru Gojo, with a smirk, hands in the pockets of his dark stylist suit, stands with his legs spread in a posture highly unflattering for a personality like his. But then again, he exudes a carefree attitude, so who would be shocked? You manage to keep your mouth from stretching into a smile thanks to Suguru Geto, whose eyes are glued to you. His obsidian irises shine with admiration, professionalism, and also pride. He gives you a knowing wink that sends a warm, pleasant wave through every corner of your abdomen.

You snap out of your trance and pause, striking an elegant pose under the camera flashes before gracefully turning around. The shimmering fabric of your dress captures the lights with every movement, creating a shower of stars around you.

As you return backstage, the music shifts, signaling the grand finale. The crowd is buzzing, applauding enthusiastically as the spotlights sweep across the stage to accentuate the dramatic effect of the starry collection. The show comes to an end several minutes later, and you notice the applause intensifying. Suguru seems to have taken the stage and begun speaking — his voice reaching every ear — and you listen intently near your pairs.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. This collection has been a true labor of love, and I am honored to share it with you. Thank you also to all the wonderful people who made this possible, especially our incredible models,” Suguru declares, a wave of shared pride resonating through his speech.

The applause erupts once more, louder than ever.

°°°°

“Really?” you murmur softly, the tone as warm as Suguru’s hand on your hip. “If I did so well in the show, don’t I deserve a reward?”

He kneels in front of you, sliding his large hands along your thighs. “So beautiful, so magnificent…” Suguru continues to whisper as if in a prayer. “I love you… Ruin me… Use me and hurt me, love…” he pleads before placing a long, sweet kiss on your inner thigh.

The effect sends waves of goosebumps across your body, and desire burns in your eyes as you lower them to your desperate lover.

What better place to want to fuck your ex than during a festive reception hosted by Satoru Gojo, in one of the luxurious corridors of his many mansions? The same heavy, thick, velvet burgundy curtains brush against your back as he nuzzles between your legs like a little boy.

The gesture might seem funny and cute, but not when he slides his head under your evening dress and presses his nose against your panties. You gasp in surprise and place your hands on his head. “Sugu… Not here…” you whisper, alarmed.

He grumbles like a displeased child, the vibration of his voice against your core increasing your sensitivity. “You— Ah…” you moan as he plants a kiss on your already swollen clit.

“I love you, sweetheart… I love you so much…” Suguru keeps repeating these words that make you melt. He shifts your underwear with his index finger, finally gaining access to your core. He starts with a chaste kiss on your damp folds and hums in contentment, as he catches the first drop of your juices. “Tastes s’good, baby…”

Your moans intensify under his agile tongue as it licks and laps at your swollen, wet folds. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, forcing you to gasp. “Suguru…” You groan as he focuses on your throbbing bundle of nerves this time. He gently sucks on it, coaxing more juices from you, and this has the effect of drawing whimpers from your lips. If you were already struggling like mad to keep quiet, Suguru always loves to tease you and he gently inserts a finger into you. Your walls clench around it as if afraid he might pull it out. Unfortunately, pleasure comes far too quickly. With only a few long, slow thrusts inside you, your fingers find their way into his dark strands. “I’m going to—”

“Cum for me, my love,” he murmurs between flicks of his tongue.

You pray that no one can see or hear you, letting the knot in your stomach that was holding back your orgasm finally release. It bursts onto Suguru’s mouth, who doesn’t waste a single second in collecting your juices until the last drop, all while you moan in pleasure.

He finally pulls his hands and head from under your dress, panting in the same ragged rhythm as you, a satisfied smile on his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs for the umpteenth time.

A slightly exhausted smile from the intense sensation lights up your face, and before you can even respond, Suguru scoops you into his arms and nearly runs to one of the luxurious bedrooms in the Gojo mansion.

He locks the door and gently lays you on the mattress. Within seconds, you take charge, removing Suguru’s pants and teasing his bulge with the tips of your fingers. You smile mischievously and giggle.

Suguru shivers at your touch and props himself up on his elbows, weak as he is for you. “Sweetheart—” But you catch him off guard by pulling down his boxer, exposing his twitching erection. “Oh God…” He almost rolls his eyes as your hand administers a few gentle strokes. “I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you…” he repeats in a plea in the dim light of the room.

Your fingers wrap around his base as you lower your head just to kiss his sensitive, reddened tip. “What, baby? Is it too much for you? You’re already so hard f’me…” And he doesn’t have time to protest as you go slowly, for he might not last. He smiles slyly as you lick the bead of pre-cum that escapes his length.

“Damn, princess… I’m not gonna last…” he hisses, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. He lets out a sigh, his muscles tensing under your hands. You run a thick band with the flat of your tongue along his dick, and he grits his teeth. “Tease…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? Let’s see about that…” Your lips part around him, taking him fully into your mouth. As soon as his tip hits the back of your throat, he lets out a groan. “Sorry…”

Your hands slip to graze his balls and caress his thighs. With a motion of your head, you suck him, your tongue swirling around his tip and veins. “Love, I—” And with a twitch of his cock, he signals that he’s about to cum. He shudders and groans, moaning your name. His cheeks flush, and you take the opportunity to tease him. He gives in and lets his release paint your mouth white. Without wasting any time, you swallow the warm substance and pull his cock from your mouth, a string of saliva mixed with his cum linking your lips to him.. The sight of your lover in a messy, submissive state sends a shiver down your own spine.

He regains his breath, rising onto his knees, unuttons his white shirt, and tosses it into a corner at the foot of the bed. Suguru’s hands settle on your hips, pulling at the fabric to undress you completely. Your panties are just as damp as when he ate you out. Your bra quickly joins his discarded clothing, and he seals his lips with yours as if it’s the last thing he needs to do in his life. He gently flips you onto your back on the bed.

Your hands move sensually across his chest to settle on his shoulders, maintaining a grip, while Suguru’s hands grasp the back of your thighs and slowly detach his lips to press them against the side of your neck where your pulse races. He marks a hickey in that exact spot and revels in the moan you produce.

“Suguru, please… I need you…” you plead into his ear, you aching clit grazing his hard cock, and he clenches his jaw to avoid holding you too tightly in his arms. Hasn’t he dreamed for years of having you like this, in his arms, begging him to please you?

“Anthing for my princess,” he coos, his lips curling. Gently, he wraps your legs around his waist and maintains eye contact with you. One of his hands grabs his dick and teases your needy cunt with the tip to collect droplets of your wetness. “Still so wet?” Then your blush is enough to make him burst into laughter. You pout, and he purrs. “Awww… I’m going to give you what you want…”

With utmost care, his tip parts your folds and slowly pushes into you, finding its way deep inside your hot, dripping pussy. Breathing between his teeth, Suguru closes his eyes for a moment and hisses. “Damn, you’re so fucking tight…” He pants for a few seconds before resuming his movements as you moan for him to go further. “Fuck, princess… taking me so well… Like you were made for me since start…”

“Suguru…” You moan, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. The pressure his cock exerts makes it hard for your pussy not to react and tighten with each of his slow thrusts as you adjust. “That’s IT, my love… You’re doing so well…” He whispers in your ear. His hands grip your hips, helping you find the right space for both of you as he sinks into you, your pretty walls clenching around him deliciously. He lets out a whimper of your name and hits that sweet spot deep inside, making you twitch beneath him.

"Again… Please… Sugu—” But another sound of pleasure escapes you as he slowly increases his pace inside you. His length twitches between your gummy, tight walls. “So deep… So good…” you murmur with a pleasure-filled wince. “I love you… I love you…”

Words hit Suguru like a punch to the stomach, and he almost has tears in his eyes. He doesn’t stop bucking his hips into you and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck. “Baby…” you whisper, your fingers tangled in his hair, pleasure all for you now. He nods, and his hand snakes to your clit, rubbing it in circles. “Suguru… I’m close…” you squeal as he continues to pound into you until you see stars and your cunt contracts around his length, your toes curling.

His seed paints your walls white, a warm, gentle sensation spreading through your lower abdomen, Suguru groaning into your neck, his teeth biting into the flesh of your trapezius. He slightly lifts his head, panting heavily, and presses his lips to your ear. “I don’t want to see you on anyone else’s arm, okay? Not even Satoru.”

You nod and giggle, trying to catch your breath, your eyelids closed and exhausted from the aftermath of intense pleasure. “Jealous, hmm?”

“Yes. And very possessive, love,” he affirms in a strained voice. “Will you forgive me?” he adds with a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. He withdraws from you and lies down beside you, attentive to any signs of discomfort.

“For a long time, Suguru,” you affirm, yawning.

“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Can I ask since when?”

“Since the hotel.”

Suguru buries his head between your bare breasts and closes his eyes with a sigh. “I see. I owe that to Nobara. What do you think would make her happy?” he asks in a casual tone.

Suddenly, it’s like gears are turning in your brain, and your fingers, which were caressing his hair moments ago, freeze.

“WHAT?”

And Suguru’s laughter echoes throughout the room.

★ a/n: finally! i'm relieved that i've finished this fic (promised from far months now...) well, i hope you'll enjoy it! <3

★ tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @alwaysfreakingout @mutsu422 @lymsfm

[kingofbodyrolls]

Jungkook fic recs 2024 🥳

In honor of Jungkook’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Jungkook stories, that I’ve read this past year (2023-2024) 💜 I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹🥳

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell or contains dark themes, so minors dni.❗ 

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the fic, it might seem like a tiny gesture, but it really means a lot for writers and I can guarantee it will put a smile on their faces💜 Let’s share and give lots of love!

Looking for more to read? Check ‘The Library’, last years Jungkook recs or  last years recs 🙂

[index] → jan | feb (jhs) | mar (myg) | apr | may | jun | jul | aug | sep (💜)(knj) | oct (pjm) | nov | dec (kth)(ksj) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻, fantasy = 🪄. 

⭐When the End Comes (series; completed) @oddinary4bts [77.9k] // jjk x f.reader // breakup!au, slice of life!au, photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!reader // 🌩️🌩️🌩️🥵

📝 seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

🗨️ this is a sequel to ‘The Forgotten Spaces’, which was just *chef’s kiss* 😘 The series is completed now – and afsfdfdsfg it was just so damn beautiful and the ending!!! It was definitely worth all my tears 🥹💜

⭐Stretch You Out @chateautae [24k] // jjk x knj x f.reader // college!au, s2f2l, gym employee!namjoon, gym employee!jungkook // 🥵🥰

📝 you have a plan for your crappy, diabolical ex who’s set on ruining your life; making him jealous by snagging a raunchy photo with two hot employees at the gym. what you didn’t have a plan for? befriending the mischievous pair to aid in your revenge and ending up underneath not just one, but both of them.

🗨️ holy fucking shit 🥵 🫣 this was so exceptionally good! So deliciously filthy, it really delivered on every freaking aspect 💯 incredible 👏🏾 perfection 👏🏾💎

⭐The Wedding Planners @gukyi [28K] // jjk x f.reader // e2l, wedding!au // 😂🥰🌩️🥵

📝 Jeon jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. then your best friend hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly jeon jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding. 

🗨️ what I love about this is one, is definitely the slow-burn and the enemies to lovers aspect too. The banter between reader and Jungkook is just so priceless and reading how their relationship slowly unfolds and develops through the months of the wedding planning was just everything 💯 Hoseok and Yoongi’s personality in this also makes this fic truly amazing.

⭐Fragment of the Past (1)(2)(3) (series; completed) @ctrlsht [28.1K] // jjk x f.reader // patient!jk x psychiatrist!reader // 🌩️😈👻🥵

📝 you are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

🗨️ another first for me, with the thriller vibes and damn it delivers on that! It’s really, really good 👏 Pacing is really good and how we see more and more of Jungkook’s disturbing traits is just brilliant ✨

⭐Brother’s best friend @lavishedinjimin [5.3K] // jjk x f.reader // brothers best friend!au // 🥵

📝 in which Y/n owns a smut blog dedicated to her crush and brother’s best friend, jungkook. it was all fun and games until he finds out about it and acts it out with you. 

🗨️ at first I was like ‘this is very cute’ and then it turned so dirty so fucking fast I almost got whiplash 😂✨

���To Give a Helping Hand: pt1 + pt2 (series; ongoing) @oddinary4bts [1.8k] // jjk x f.reader // idol!au // 🥵

📝 when Jungkook comes home from the gym, he goes feral thinking about you.

🗨️ I don’t know where to begin… everything Ella writes is pure gold, why would this short one be any different? 🥵 I fucking loved it; it was hot and Jungkook was so needy! And you know what? I think she’s working on part two!!!!! ✨🥵 (seriously, can’t recommend this enough!!!)

⭐When Worlds Collide (series; ongoing) @letjungcoook7 [currently loading…] // jjk x f.reader // college!au, slice of life!au, s2l, fuckboy!jk, virgin!reader // 🥵🌩️

📝 since your mother's passing a year ago, life has been a whirlwind. balancing your passion for ballet with a low-key presence at college, where you’re the top student, was your norm until Jungkook stepped into your world. known for his reputation preceding him, jungkook is the talk of the campus with his casual rendezvous that have the girls buzzing. despite his allure, you're puzzled by his need for your tutoring prowess, especially given his own academic merit. yet, succumbing to his persistent requests, you reluctantly agree, only to find yourself thrust into the spotlight you've always avoided.

🗨️ this story is so good! It’s still being updated and there’s so much drama in it that is slowly being unraveled! 💜

⭐Liquor Lips @letjungcoook7 [1.5k] // jjk x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵

📝 left intentionally blank by the author.

🗨️ it was incredible good, like I want to read more (it’s not a series though!). It’s the perfect dirty little one-shot/drabble ❤️‍🔥

⭐Chasing Cars (series; completed) @oddinary4bts [218.5k] // jjk x f.reader // brother’s best friend!au, forbidden love!au, college!au, slice of life!au // 🥵🌩️🥰

📝 when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

🗨️ the series has just ended and it is seriously so fucking good ✨ But you should pack some tissues, a hot cup of tea or coffee, because you’ll want to read through everything because of the cliffhangers and drama - also remember to read the drabbles for JK's pov too 💖

⭐Bottle Up Old Love @wintaerbaer [4.6k] // jjk x f.reader // exes to lovers // 🥵🌩️🥰

📝 Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

🗨️ I really love how protective Jungkook is in this one, and damn the smut 🥵 It’s so fucking good!!!

⭐Hold Me Close + Hold Me Closer @ahundredtimesover [22.6k] // jjk x f.reader // brother’s best friend!au // 🥵🌩️🥰

📝 when Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

🗨️ omg this was so fucking amazing 😭✨ The characters are amazing in this, there’s cute backstory, details and the sibling bond is top tier, and the chemistry between oc and Jungkook is so fucking good! The tension is perfect and I love the slow burn 🥰 I feel this was also a bit on the existential side, which I really love. Like the dialogue had me thinking about my own life! I love when that happens! And it was so fun reading about siblings, and I’m missing my own baby sister right now. Anyway, it was exceptionally good! Amazing! 💯 And there’s a mention of Jungkook’s glazed potato incident you can’t miss! It was so fun (both this and the run episode 😂). Can’t recommend this one enough!!

⭐Jump Then Fall (Into You): pt1 + pt2 + pt3 (one-shot; completed) @writtenwhalien [52k] // jjk x f.reader // bf2l, cruise!au, fake dating!au // 🌩️🥰🥵

📝 bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

🗨️ I seriously can’t recommend this one enough! I love longer stories because it gives a chance for the characters to develop better! And this does that perfectly; even the minor/background/supporting characters have such a deep and rich story it’s just brilliant!! 💎 And the relationship between oc and Jungkook? 🌶️ Delicious tension, having to pretend to be a couple, when you’re practically already a couple, but haven realized it yet? 🤭 It is just perfect!!!

⭐Ultimatum @parkmuse [10.3k]  // jjk x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵😂

📝 your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

🗨️ omfg 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 I don’t know where to start with this one, first off, if you haven’t read it before, please go read it, because it is fucking hilarious, even in the smut scenes 😂 Which, fyi, they were really good, smutty and funny!  Okay. There was one scene in there right, I laughed way too hard at!!!! Really good and amazing! 👏💯

⭐Will it Fit? @jeonsweetpea [6.7k] // jjk x f.reader // roommates!au, i2l // 🥵🌩️🥰😂

📝 so what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…

🗨️ the banner alone had me giggling way too much! Like his face, and with the title— it’s just fucking hilarious 🤣 And the story did not disappoint one bit, fuck, everything was so good and amazing! Their banter, tension and humor was just perfectly on point ✨ This was just incredibly perfect 💯

⭐Dumbo @cinnaminsvga [17.2k]  // jjk x f.reader // s2l // 🥵😂😂

📝 you know what they say about boys with big noses… {or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

🗨️ this was just so fucking hilarious I don’t even know where to begin 😂 I don’t know how many times the word ‘dick’ or its many different variations is used in this fic, but damn it a lot, and damn is it fun! 🤣 There’s so many dick jokes it should be criminal! It was so good though, the story was just too funny, almost absurd (lol), but dammit it’s a new favorite! 💯

⭐Fool for You (series; completed) @btsgotjams27 [24.9k]  // jjk x f.reader // college!au, fake dating, s2f2l // 🥵🌩️🥰

📝 when Jungkook is finally single, you shoot your shot.

🗨️ This is a short series and it’s really good— it’s cute, has angst and a happy ending ✨

⭐Make it Right @jungkxook [11.5k] // jjk x f.reader // band!au, exes to lovers // 🥵🌩️

📝 you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too.

🗨️ gaaaaahhh, I’m crying 😭 This was so beautiful, bittersweet 😭 I loved it so much and their love, omg, so pure, so precious. His song for her, I’m just like 😭 (can you tell I’m a sobbing mess?) Definitely a new favorites and I loved the fact that, they both knew they were broken, waiting for each other, and even though broken, they will heal and take it slow 😭💯

⭐Coffee Stain @oddinary4bts [1.9k] // jjk x f.reader // grief!au // 🌩️🌩️🌩️

📝 you grief, and it's the expression of your everlasting love for Jungkook.

🗨️ do you want to cry, but not able too? Go and read this! It’s so fucking sad, but so incredible beautiful and sweet, it will make you tear up in now time. As said before, Ella just have a way with words, and in this one, they sure do hurt a lot 😭 But I fucking love it ✨

⭐Bite Me, Jeon @sailoryooons [19.3k] // jjk x f.reader // f2l, vampire!au, college!au // 🥵🌩️👻🪄

📝 somehow you convince Jeon Jungkook to look into theories of vampirism for a research paper. What Jungkook doesn’t expect, is for vampirism to become a very real and very personal problem for him.

🗨️ this one is insanely good! It’s so amazing! This one reminds me of Ghostfacers from Supernatural, lol. It was so freaking funny. I was pleasantly surprised at the plot, and I loved it. If you haven’t read this one yet, and you love vampires, this one is definitely for you!!! 🥰

⭐Confided @cravetive [5k] // jjk x f.reader // neighbor!au // 🥵

📝 y/n didn't think testing out a new sex toy would cause so much havoc but no worries, her next-door neighbor Jungkook doesn't mind lending her a bit of assistance.

🗨️ holy shit it was amazing and the smut….. Fuuuuck I’m not gonna lie here okay, I was dripping, I was feeling it so fucking bad and damn. It was hot. The plot was so silly and hot, like omg 🥵

This is my little corner with my own fics— I don’t write that much (I prefer to read), but it would mean a lot to me if you checked out my work or read it. You don’t have to, it’s up to you of course 🥰

⭐Say That Again (I Dare You) [13.1k] // jj x f.reader x pjm // est. relationship (jjk), threesome, slice of slice!au // 🥵

📝you moan in your sleep, and your boyfriend knows this, but when you keep moaning another man’s name in your sleep - and that man just happens to be one of your friends? What will Jungkook do? 

🗨️ this is just pure smut, lol. I wrote it as a birthday gift to all you people 😂

⭐Say I Do [5.2k] // jj x f.reader // wedding!au // 🥵

📝you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

🗨️ again, this is just pure smut, nothing else 😂

⭐Till We Meet Again [11.4k] // jj x f.reader // mermaid!au, fantasy!au, childhood f2l, nostalgia // 🥵🪄🥰😂

📝when your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook.

🗨️ this is a favorite of mine, and it’s just really really cute and fluffy with a sprinkle of smut 🥰

And as a something little extra, here’s a few fics that I haven’t had the time to read yet, but damn I’m buzzing to get to read them:

Red Light (series; ongoing) @bunnybubae

Ember Burning @kpopfanfictrash

Seven Days (series; ongoing) @kithtaehyung

Dextrocardia (series; ongoing) @jeonstudios

All That Glitters (series; completed) @aquagustd

In This Paradise @ressjeon

Make You Mine @mercurygguk

Castaway @hamsterclaw

For Science (series; completed) @boymeetsweevil

Heart of the Storm @ladyartemesia

Happy birthday to our GOLDEN man Jeon Jungkook!!!! 🥳💜✨

[tomura-complex]

ღ A helpful dose of assistance ღ

Pairing: Employee!Tomura X CEO!Reader Synopsis: Tomura gets a raise after many years of hard work meeting you, his boss. The promotion sends him to a higher position becoming your personal assistant. And with this whole new job comes new responsibilities. Warning: cunnilingus, p in v sex, oral (F recieving), creampie, office sex, kinda power dynamics, fluff at the end

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Tomura was working really hard for the last two years. Working overtime and… quite isolating himself from everyone. Always looking formal and spending most of his break time working. The time of the year comes along again. Promoting. You thought about one person to promote. You are the CEO and every statistic spoke to itself. Tomura was the best. He deserves a promotion. You called him in your office before the end of the shift. “Tomura, nice to see you.” You smiled at him and saw his confused and… scared face. He looks so nervous. “Sit down, I have something to tell you.” You smile at him and he nervously sits down in front of you. “I went through the data and the statistics. And it speaks to itself. You did an amazing job here and I’m really happy.” You smile at him. “Are you firing me?” He mumbles and you stare at him confused. “No! Of course not. I… I’m promoting you for a better position. You will be my assistant.” You beam at him and he looks at you slightly confused but then relieved. “Thank you so much Miss.” You smile at him. You give him all the instructions. He will be your first assistant.

Weeks flew by and he finally got comfortable with his new job. You are quite routine based. He knocks on your office door and walks inside, placing a cup of coffee on your table. Today is different. You are exhausted since you came to work and irritated. “Do you need help with anything?” He mumbles and hands you your planner for today. “No, not really Tomu. It’s okay. Oh and please don’t forget to call the radio for the interview. We need to plan it for next week on Tuesday.” You smile at him, but he feels that the smile isn’t genuine. Something naggs you in your head. Tomura silently leaves your office and starts working. But the thought of you always lingers in his mind. He spends so much time with you. Your body, your attitude, your everything. You are always on his mind. Maybe it is not healthy. You are the CEO, his boss, he shouldn’t think of you this way.

The time flew by and he is recently taking notes from a meeting that you lead. Everyone can sense that you are irritated. The meeting ends and everyone leaves. You huff and start looking through your phone. Then you groan and tuck the phone away. Something is definitely going on. “Um. Your shift ends in half an hour.” Tomura tries to lighten the mood. You look at him and smile at him. That smile. That beautiful caring smile. “Tomu, I’m sorry but… Can you get me a coffee please?” You mumbled and he nodded. He hands you the notes and then leaves for your coffee. You sat down in the office and groaned. You need a savior. You need a D. A proper and passionate fuck. It was so long. Since you started the firm. You never found the time for anyone and you can feel that your body needs it. Your pussy throbs the whole day and it’s annoying you want to cry. You whimper and lay your head on the table. This is so bad. You don’t know what to do. You don’t hear Tomu walk in and place your coffee down. “You okay?” He whispers and you look at him with tears in your eyes you didn’t know were there. “What’s wrong?” He said worried. You sat up and rub your eyes. “OH um Nothing I.” You mumbled and then sigh. “I have such a primitive problem. It’s stupid.” You mumble and he looks at you. Then he kneels before you. “What is wrong. It won’t be stupid. I won’t laugh.” He promises and you blush. Your whole face is red and you cover it in your hands. “I need to make out.” You whisper into your hands and Tomura looks at you confused. “What?” You chuckle. “No, It’s really stupid. Thank you for the coffee.” You mumble, totally mortified. Why did you say it? In front of him. He stands up and silently leaves. He heard you. He heard you clearly. You were irritated because of this? He sits down by his desk and notices his tent in his pants. He gulps and tries to stop thinking about you and your… perfect cleavage. The phone rings and he takes it. “Good evening, We have got a delivery for Miss Y/n L/n.” Tomura quickly answers it and goes to pick it up. 

Tomura walks into your office with a package. “I have a package for you.” He mumbles and gives it to you. You look at it and almost choke on your coffee. “Thank you so much Tomu. Um. You can leave.” You smile at him. When he closed the door, you quickly opened the box. It’s your new two toys. You send it to the wrong address. Thank god that Tomura didn’t see it. You  pick up the tentacle dildo and look at it. It’s beautiful. So long and… The design is great. You gulp and hide it. You don’t know if you can wait till the night. You really need it. Tomura barges in and walks to you with a paper. You quickly stand up and push the box out of the way. “We just got an important message from our biggest partner. They want us to-” The box hit the floor and the plastic filling scatters all over the floor. “I’m really sorry Miss.” He says and hands you the papers then kneels down grabbing the box. You look at the paper and groan. It is not important. It was just a notice, nothing important. He is still nervous in his position. Then you realize it. The box. You quickly kneel down, but it is late. Tomura is already holding it in his hands. A tentacle dildo and a bullet vibrator. You blush madly and look at him, noticing his raging boner. “Ah, this is so inappropriate. I’m really sorry.” You mumble and quickly grab it and hide it in the box and under your desk. Tomura can’t help but look at your thighs. Those big silk thighs. He gulps and bears himself with every courage he has. “I. I heard you before.” He whispers quickly and closes his eyes. Ready for anything. Even for you firing him. “Ugh, I’m really sorry. I’m just.” You sighed. “I’m really desperate, you know. It has been so long and… I’m the one working and every guy is like oh, you are a strong woman, you can be independent. And other things. Nothing helps me now and my body is on fire all day. I don’t even know what to do anymore. No one ever made time for me-” “I will make time for you.” He says and kisses you. The kiss is firm, but also sweet and caring. You pull away and look into his eyes. “I’m your assistant. I will help you with everything.” He whispers with lustful eyes. You look at the clock. It’s 6 pm. Everyone should have left already. “Will this be our secret?” You whisper and he smirks. “Our little secret. Whatever you need, boss.” He whispers and kisses you passionately. He grabs your hips and sits you on your desk.

This is going to end up badly. He is your assistant… Thoughts quickly left your head when he started kissing you on your neck. You started unbuttoning your shirt. Tomura kneels down and unstraps your heels. He looks at you with hunger in your eyes and kisses your feet. “You must be so swollen and tired.” He whispers and starts to massage your foot. “Ugh, fuck it. Come with me.” You mumble and stand up. You grabbed the box, your bag and quickly drag him out of the office. “Let’s continue in my apartment, shall we?” You mumble. Tomura smiles and grabs his things. “Perfect plan boss.” He smiles and walks you to your car.

The ride home was pretty quick. But you couldn’t help it. Your body couldn't handle it. You and Tomura got into your apartment and locked your door. His kisses travel from your neck to your shoulders and to your breasts. You fall with him on your bed and start to undress. Both of your clothes fall on the floor. You blush. He looks so stunning. Lean, but toned body, visible V-line and a small happy trail from black hair. And then his dick. Only slightly trimmed, slightly hairly, quite big, pretty large and veiny. His balls heavy. You gulp and look into his eyes. He looks at you and then at your breasts. Two perfect big mounds. He grabs them and smirks. They are spilling out of his hands. His hands travel down your tummy and his fingers hook under your panties. Lace black panties. Perfect. He slips them down and throws them on the floor. He kisses your thighs and slowly nears your hand. Your fingers in his hair stop him. He looks at you confused. “Please. I need you. I need all of you. I can’t wait.” You whine out and he chuckles. “So needy.” He smirks and slowly sinks his tip in your core. You whimper and wiggle your hips. You slowly feel him sink into you, filling you to the brim. You moan and relax. Finally. You look at him and then at the place where he enters you. He grabs you and lays you down in the center of the bed between pillows. “I shall treat you like a real princess.” He smiles at you and you giggle. You grab his cheek and he leans closer. You look into his beautiful dark eyes and kiss him. His lips were rough, but so sweet. “I wanted this.” He smiles. “I wanted you for so long.” He sighs and you smile. You grab his tie and lower his face to yours. “Then be a good assistant and fuck me properly.” You grin at him and he grins at you. He firmly grips your shoulders and starts pounding into you. You mewl out and throw your head back. You were missing this. He looks at you and smiles. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest. He starts ramming into you with full force, his balls slamming against your ass. You moan out grabbing his hand. You can feel your climax coming. Maybe it is too much? “T-tomu.” You moan out and he whines. “That’s it. Say it. Say it louder.” He grins and kisses you. Then he starts kissing your breasts. “Tomu… I can’t. Oh, Tomu.” You moan and close your eyes. Maybe it is too much. Then it hits you. The sudden wave of your orgasm. You moan out in his arms, feeling his hands holding you. In his embrace. He quickly pulls away and comes on your tummy. He huffs and looks at you. “Sorry… for not lasting longer.” He mumbles. You chuckle and let him lay down beside you. “Thank you so much.” You smile and cuddle into him.

The next week was amazing. Everyone felt your happy aura. You beamed at everyone and helped everyone. The meetings were more productive. But the biggest change is the smile that was on your face when you looked at Tomura. That honest smile with… love in your eyes. Tomu always brought you coffee. Three times in a day and lunch. But everytime he stays for a little longer. Making you feel happy and satisfied. It was one of those times. Tomura brought you coffee ten minutes ago and now, you are resting in your chair, eyes closed and enjoying the feeling of Tomu’s skillful tongue. You look at your planner. Just two more hours and you are finally done. You hum happily and look at Tomura. He is enjoying it so much down there. Kneeling on the carpet in his clothes that are too tight for his liking, focusing everything on the little bundle of nerves that was glistening with his spit. He huffs and pulls away smiling at you. “I… I thought about something…” He mumbled kissing your pearl. Your fingers entangled in his beautiful hair. “What is it?” You mused. He looks at you. His eyes are sparkling and wide. Just this one look and something just snapped. Something inside of you. “Can it wait a little longer?” You huff and he looks at you and then nods. You quickly sit down on your desk and he stands up. He quickly unbuckles his belt and frees his painfully throbbing dick. His left hand grabs your hips and his right hand helps his cock to nudge at your heated center. His dick slowly sinks right into you. You whimper and look at the door. “Don’t worry. No one will come in.” He whispers and kisses you passionately. You moan into his mouth and kiss him back. His hips start moving, his pelvis brushing against yours. He grins and holds your beautiful silk legs, pulling them to his chest and hugging your legs. You quietly moan out. Oh how you loved your service, your personal assistant. You grab his tie and hold him close, kissing his lips. This happened too many times. Files scattered around the floor, coffee almost spilled, the smell of the sex everywhere and the picture of him above you. Sweaty, but confident about his work. His pace sped up and became sloppy. His thumb encircled your clit, steadying at the perfect pace that has you speechless. You mewl out and come on the spot, squirting a little. And then you felt it. His cock pumps you full of his white seed, making you feel full. He huffs and slowly pulls out, quickly covering your fluttering hole with your black panties. Your eyes slowly close and he helps you sit on your chair. He held before you your coffee and you slowly drank it. “Feeling better?” He smiles and you nod while arranging your businesswoman dress. “What did you want to tell me?” You smile at him, watching him trying to look formal again. He looks at you and tries to look confident. “I… I want to ask if you would like to go on a date with me? To a restaurant… or to get a coffee… A warm coffee.” He mumbles and looks away feeling stressed. He wanted to tell you this for so long. The hookups were amazing, truly, but since the first time, he caught feelings for you. “Of course. I… Of course I will go out with you. That is so amazing.” You smile at him and stand up, holding his hands. He smiles at you. “That’s great! If you want, we can go to dinner together. Wherever. It’s up to you.” He beams at you. “So we will meet out of your office at 17:05?” He smiles and you nod. He beams and leaves to his desk.

You look at your work and smile. So it’s the first official date… It will be nice and pretty. And you can’t catch feelings for him. Because you had caught them long ago… 

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading this oneshot, it makes me really happy that someone enjoys my writing!

[corriganatheart]

Never Enough Pt. I (Jude Bellingham x Reader x Hector Fort)

You stare up at the billboard above you. It was the new Adidas campaign starring one of the biggest uprising football player. Your friend weren’t lying when they said that your ex boyfriend was everywhere. From being in Vogue magazine to being the youngest player to score for England in the World Cup. He was everywhere.

You looked back down and pull out your phone. There are two messages from your best friend and three missed calls from Hector. You sighed and clicked on his contact. You should’ve known to keep your ringtone on because he was always calling to check on you. And recently he has become very protective of you after it was revealed that your ex boyfriend was engaged to the daughter of the wealthiest man in Spain.

“Hey Y/N do I need to hunt you down?” He threatens after the first ring.

You rolled your eyes, “Hector is there anyway to speak to your elders?”

You hear him muttered something impolite, “cut the crap you’re only three years older than me.”

“That’s still three years of experience before you. Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?” You asked.

You hear a garage door opening in the background indicating that Hector just got home from practice.

“Whatever. I ordered dinner for us can you pick it up on your way home?” He asked, basically demanding.

You looked back up at the billboard and turned towards the employee parking lot. “Sure I’ll be home in about an hour.”

Hector says bye and hangs up. Typically teenager.

As you drive to the restaurant, you think of the last few years. It has been three years since you moved to Barcelona and you’re a month from graduating college. Life has been good to you but you always missed home. Sometimes you regret moving away from England, but you would’ve never moved on properly from him if you stayed there.

Now that three years has passed, it didn’t matter that he was now in Spain, you have left those feelings in the past and is now looking forward to your career as a journalist.

“Took you long enough,” was the first thing that you heard when you walked through the door.

Hector was sitting in the living room in a white t shirt and black shorts. His black locks is still dammed and he smelled like fresh cologne. “Sorry, I had to stop by to get us these drinks,” you shrugged.

He smirks, “how was the interview?”

You bite your lower lips, “it went well, I got hired.”

Hector hums and makes his way towards you. He grabs the take out bags out of your hand and walks to the kitchen. “My mother is going crazy about your graduation. She has already hired party planners.”

You scrunched your head, “oh gosh, I knew I should’ve waited to tell her.”

He chuckles and starts laying out the food from your favorite Chinese restaurant. “Actually I think it’s a brilliant idea. Get you to go out more.”

The idea of loud music and dancing till five in the morning has never worked well with you. But Hector’s family always throws lavish parties for special occasions. For Hector’s 18th birthday, you remember the unlimited amount of alcohol in the cruise ship. The whole trip cost more than your salary of two years.

You watch as Hector moves around the kitchen. He was no longer the five year old kid that you met when you were eight. His family is a mutual friend, and your father would take you to stay with them when school was out. Overtime, he became a little brother to you, and the two of you were practically inseparable.

You were thankful for his family to say the least. After graduating from high school, and breaking up with your boyfriend, you made the decision to attend college in Spain. His family invited you to stay with them, and at that time Hector was only fifteen but was already training under FC Barcelona. When he turned seventeen, his parents moved to a different city, leaving the two of you to be roommates.

“Why didn’t you invite Gavi or Pedri this time?” You asked while looking at the amount of food on the kitchen island.

Hector glares at you, “Why? Just so they can hit on you?”

You rolled your eyes, “you know they’re just joking right?”

This time it was him who does the eye rolling. “You are always oblivious Y/N. We aren’t kids anymore and for your information Pedri is the same age as you.”

You cross your arms and tilt your head. Hector has been more and more agitated with you lately and you aren’t sure why.

“Did something happen?” You asked.

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m 18 now,” he mumbles.

You nodded.

He glances at you and shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Come on let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

You stare up at the ceiling, contemplating on whether to do it or not. The news were out that he was engaged. And you heard whispers down the street about his age and how young he was. People were saying that he will end up ruining his career over this.

Biting your lips, you download the Instagram app again, and reactivate your account.

Hector has warned you about staying off the internet but now that three years has passed and you’re finally heal, this would be the perfect opportunity to start over.

You smile when you see your account pops up. It was still private with only three hundred followers. They were all family and friends.

You look through your following list. He was no longer following you and you were no longer following his. The only person closest to him would be Jobe, who somehow still follows you. His account now has a blue check mark.

You smile when you see Hector’s account. He no longer has that one hundred followers but over a million. You were a proud sister.

Scrolling through your feeds brings back memories. People from your high school were now in their respective careers. Some became teachers, nurses, and models. Others were in the same position as you, no post since 2021.

You really didn’t want to make a fool of yourself but there was no harm in checking your exes instagram right? It wasn’t like you were trying to reach out to him or anything. You just wanted a glimpse.

judebellingham

Liked by trentarnold66 and 3,047,678 others

judebellingham See you in 5 months 💍

View comments

r.jb.5_

Smile if you need help bro

definitely_not_caleb

Nah bro is getting that bag no matter what. RESPECT.

enhyproy

Does anyone think this is all sketchy? Jude loves soccer and there’s no way he would ruin his career by marrying a girl. 🤔

Becca_egh

He definitely got threatened

Ok maybe stalking your ex was a bad idea. His Instagram page has been filled with nothing but his achievements and a single photo that hints his engagement. You don’t see his fiance on any of his posts though.

Sighing you shut your phone and turn off the lamp.

“I saw that you are on Instagram again?” Hector asked while pouring a large amount of gravy on his biscuit.

“Yeah I thought it would be good to reconnect with the world again,” you shrugged.

He hums and handed you a glass of milk. “So does that mean I get to post you and tag you in shit now?”

You frown, not understanding what he means. “I thought you wanted me to have a private life.”

Hector shrugs, “you’re technically my family so there will be times when I’ll post you.”

Thinking about it, you didn’t mind. But you are aware of how crazy his fan girls can get. “As long as you make it clear that I am your family.”

Hector nods, “as you wish princess.”

“Oh by the way, you coming to my game in two days?”

You pull out your phone and check the calendar. “Yeah I am available.”

“Great!” He exclaimed.

You smile and the two of you go into conversations about your graduation party.

hctorforrt_

236,976 likes

hctorforrt_ I got the support on the stand 🤟

View all 2,398 comments

Barcafanpage

1,678,768 likes

Barcafanpage Wow! After the game last night 18 years old Hector Fort left with a mysterious girl. She was in the VIP stand. Could it be his girlfriend?

View comments

Justme768 pretty sure that’s a family member but I could be wrong 🤷🏻

jhusnj I think he follows her on instagram. @y/nisme

hectorforgirly she’s so pretty omg!!

hello first Bellingham now him😭 we keep losing our menzzz!

coraliltime I went to school with her. She’s Jude Bellingham’s ex girlfriend.

“HECTOR!!!” You screamed while running downstairs. As soon as you woke up this morning. Everyone blew up your phone. From Hector’s mother to former classmates. Everyone was welcoming you back and some was wondering if you were dating Hector.

Although you have known him for years, you knew him before he became very famous. Back then no one cared for the teenager that was still training, and when he finally made his debut, you went into hiding so you were never seen with him. Family and friends knew that you guys are basically brothers and sisters, so this was no news for them. But people that haven’t seen you in years or doesn’t know your relation with him are going crazy over the pictures.

“What is the meaning of this?!” You slammed your phone down.

Hector was in the middle of cooking breakfast when you slammed your phone on the counter so hard you’re sure the camera cracked. “It’s just people being nosy,” he shrugged.

How can he be so calm?

“You do understand that my Instagram is being blown up because of this right?”

Hector shrugs again. “You have it on private so just ignore them.”

You gasped, “people thinks I am your girlfriend and you’re ok with that!!”

Hector winces at your yelling, “it’s better to just let it die down instead of making a fuss about it.”

You wanted nothing more than to smack him in the head. “It doesn’t work like that! Now everyone is going to call me a cougar!”

Hector frowns, “you’re not. You’re only three years older than me, quit treating me like a kid. And don’t you want to be a famous journalist? This is actually going to help spread your name.”

You sighed and shake your head. Hector was right, everyone will forget about it. This wasn’t the first time he was caught up in a dating rumor.

“Fine but if your fan girls starts acting up we are never being seen again!”

“Yeah yeah,” he mumbles. “I do think you should start putting your name out there. Social media is a great way to start a career especially if you want to make money from being a journalist.”

You sat down and Hector handed you a plate of food. He was also right about this. Social media is a great marketing tool. The more you’re known, the more people will support you or talk about you. In the journaling world, it was all about connections. You wanted to start that connection as soon as possible.

“I suppose you’re right,” you sighed.

Hector smiles, and you wonder what scheme he is planning.

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Author's Note

Hey PEEPs! it has been a while. How are you guys doing? My summer vacation is about to end and I wanted to give you guys a gift by writing another series. Jude Bellingham has been a hot topic among the football community lately and his popularity is sky rocketing.

This series is more realistic than the other series that I have written so you can be calm. But I love writing dark romance and adding plot twist but sometimes it so awkward to write Y/N as my main character. So to avoid that, for my next dark romance series, I want to to select one of you to be my female lead. You just need to drop your first name and I will choose a last name. I will also have four ML (FL will only end up with one), and all of them will have different occupation including a soccer player, a kpop idol, a volleyball player, and a mafia member. Be aware that although I chose a celebrity to play that role, it doesn't mean that they have that occupation, it just means that the character looks like them. I am so excited to start another dark romance series. Please list who you think I will cast as my male leads. I look forward to your input!

[glossysoap]

ready to comply v - изоляция

изоляция or isolation is defined as;

the process or fact of isolating or being isolated.

tags/warnings: pov change from 141 to reader, phantom limb/pain, talk of human waste (sorry), uncleanliness, torture, hallucinations, fake death.

prev chapters here!

word count: 2,876

🏷️: @viylikescats @warenai @briacreations96 @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @zvdvdlvr @lunitalloronaa @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad @itstokyo-cos @c1rice @venusianlustt @bugonawall @wakusbonkus @blackrose4242 @blackgaladriel @lilpothoscuttings @thvxr @tapioca-marzipan @undercover-smutlover @nickangel13 @luvmeijii @atjamesbbarnes @h-leigh @writingmybeloved @chloeforde @divine--serenity @hunterbunter3000 (if ur name is striked out, it means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag, sorry)

When you assumed that the 141 wouldn’t send out a search and rescue team for you, you were right.

When you assumed that by the time the 141 discovered you were missing, that it would be too late, you were right.

When you assumed that they would be too preoccupied with the next mission to look for you, you were right.

That much was proved to be true when Shepherd uttered the words, “You know I can’t let you do that, John.” The General couldn’t send out his best soldiers to go searching for some medic that was probably already long dead by now. The General wouldn’t.

John chuckled without humor, shaking his head in disbelief.

“So what then, General? Because they were the only surgeon I trusted with my team!” He shouted, nostrils flaring.

Shepherd chose his next words carefully, still paranoid after being ambushed in that conference room and almost assaulted by the Lieutenant.

“So, we’ll hope for the best and prepare for the worst. We will have a list of potential.. replacements as soon as possible.”

John’s throat tightened and tears pricked his eyes but he didn’t let them fall. No, not in front of the emotionless, insensitive General, who John knew never liked you that much anyway.

So the Captain pressed his lips together and nodded to himself, before walking out of the conference room. He walked the halls of his base with a clenched jaw and a feeling of barbed wire wrapped around his throat.

Soon, you were also right about being replaced.

Corporate quickly pulled your name from any employee record or planners. Your name was pulled from payroll and all of your previous medical cases were sealed forever. Any of your current patients were transferred to a different surgeon, along with the medical plan you had created. Your room was even cleared of all of your belongings and put into a box - down to every last post-it note, picture frame and candle. The gold plaque on your door that had your name printed on it was even scraped from the wood, leaving it blank for someone else’s name.

Worst of all, was when the interviews began. Way too soon in the Task Force’s opinion. Laswell, Price and Shepherd had formed a panel including themselves and your previous medical assistants in order to find the best replacement. Price tried to ignore the sullen looks on your assistants’ faces when they were trying to find a new surgeon. You were their friend and mentor, after all.

Once they had finally found someone suitable for the job, the new surgeon moved into your medbay the medbay. They put their grubby little hands on it. They rearranged all of the medical supplies into a different order, one that made no sense compared to the way you organized things. Even the way they triaged patients irked the Task Force, it was all way too busy and chaotic instead of the coordinated way you triaged.

When it came to being treated by your replacement, 141’s hackles rose. They would glare daggers at the surgeon, tempted to refuse treatment from anyone other than you. No one could administer injections like you could. No one could insert an IV like you, they would always end up losing a vein or leaving the patients arm with bruises. Your replacement took too long to come up with diagnoses, leaving the team out of commission for longer than necessary.

At every single turn, the entire Task Force knew that if you were here, you would’ve put that “replacement” to absolute shame.

But when you assumed that the team would be better off with you gone? You couldn’t have been more wrong.

The atmosphere at the base shifted immediately after you were announced missing in action, and presumably killed in action.

It was an unspoken grief that neither Simon or Johnny could swallow, no matter how hard they tried. Where the warmth usually resided in their chest, a piercing ache replaced it, leaving a hole where you should be. The hole in their chest was always there, digging deeper and deeper with each passing minute without you.

Their throats went raw and tight every time they found themselves looking for you, on pure instinct. They would search for you wearing your scrubs in the medbay, only to find your replacement standing in your place. They would listen for the pitter-patter of your feet as they worked out in the gym, so accustomed to you talking to them while they lifted weights. They would listen and listen, expecting you to pop up next to them — only for you to never appear. They would find themselves walking by your door and slowing to a stop. They would raise a fist to knock on your door, only to stop an inch from the door when they remembered that you weren’t there.

Everywhere they looked, they were reminded of you. They saw pieces of you everywhere on base, pieces you left behind.

(….)

For days or weeks on end, you were locked in that room as you slept on that uncomfortable cot.

Days passed, you weren’t sure how many, but you knew they were passing nonetheless. It could’ve been two days, five days, or even weeks. You had no idea.

You were kept in that room with no water. Your stomach was constantly growling and aching for even a sleeve of crackers. Your throat was dry and sore, even swallowing hurt because of how thirsty you were.

The only nourishment you were granted was two protein shakes a day, tossed into your cell first thing in the morning. They tasted of protein powder and synthetic nutrients, making you cringe whenever you sipped it - though you did savor it as the only ‘food’ you ever got.

The shakes were the only calories you could rely on so that you didn’t starve to death in that cell.

The effects of dehydration had already begun taking it’s toll on you. Your head was constantly pounding and you found yourself pressing against your eye socket to try and relieve the migraine. You had already emptied your stomach multiple times throughout your imprisonment because of the nausea, the smell wafting from the buckets only making it worse. You were only thankful that you hadn’t started experiencing hallucinations.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed because there were no clocks or windows. There was no sunlight to illuminate the room or tell you when the sun was rising or setting. There was no dusk or dawn. Just a cold, grey concrete room.

The lighting panels on the ceiling was the only thing providing light to the dreary room. The light never turned off, not even for an hour. You were thoroughly convinced that your captors knew you might use the light schedule to measure time, so they just kept the lights on. Every minute of every day. Burning your corneas and making it impossible to get any rest.

The room was filled with a disgusting, nauseating odor that stemmed from two buckets in the corner of the room. You were forced to relieve yourself in those buckets, the smell of your waste making you gag with almost every breath.

The only way you could ever sleep during that time was to pull your shirt over your head. At least then you wouldn’t have to see that bright light or smell that putrid odor.

In all that time you were kept there, you sat in the same pair of cargo pants and muscle shirt that you woke up in, never granted a shower much less freedom from this room. For days or even weeks, you were stewing in your own dirt and sweat. Your body reeked and your greasy hair was tangled up in a rats nest in the back.

You could only imagine what you looked like.

You had no socks or shoes, so your feet were adorned in scrapes and bruises from being dragged around weeks prior. From not having any access to a bath, much less a moisturizer, your feet were becoming dry and cracked. There were also scabs decorating the heels of your feet due to pieces of glass and debris scattered on the floor of the room. You winced and limped with any step you took on your bloody, raw feet.

Your body was sore, no doubt holding wounds under your skin. Sore burning wrapped around your right wrist and elbow, serving as a reminder of when those soldiers tore you from that redhead and dragged you into that room. You knew that if your left arm was still there, your real left arm, you would feel the same burning soreness mirrored there.

Your stab wound was messily stitched shut and bandaged over, still leaving you with sharp pains if you twisted or turned a certain way. Your neck was sore and bloody due to all of the needle pricks from off market drugs, steroids and sedatives.

Throbbing, stabbing pain radiated from your left arm shoulder all the way throughout your body. It was pain you couldn’t place — pain that you knew didn’t truly come from your shoulder, but that was the last part of your arm that remained. Logically, that was the only place it should be coming from.

It wasn’t just surface level pain either. It dove deep into your nerves that ran all through your body, shocking each one with a jolt of electricity that made you wince and whimper in pain.

It consumed every cell in your body. Lighting every blood vessel on fire, flaying your muscles alive. It made the nerves in your back and arms tense up, rendering you immobile until your body finally relaxed.

Sooner or later though, delirium would begin setting in. Forcing you to crumble from the pain and surrender to exhaustion, and letting your eyelids flutter closed.

Even in your unconscious state, you were miserable. Your heartbeat pounded in your already aching head. Your throat scratched with every inhale and exhale. The skin that met metal on your left shoulder was still searing as if you were being branded like cattle.

In some ways you were.

With every labored wheeze, your chest screamed in white hot pain that was reminiscent of the knife piercing your abdomen. The stitches threatened to rip open with any sharp intake of breath or involuntary muscle twitch. Every single scrape, bruise and gash that littered your body still screamed in pain while you slept. Your face was still screwed up in agony, brows furrowed and eyes clenched shut.

Your dreams were filled with light and warmth, blossoming safety and protection. You dreamed of your safe haven that lied solely in Johnny and Simon. Your dreams were filled with Johnny's warmth. His tan skin and cerulean eyes, crinkling with his booming laughter at some stupid joke you told him. His big arms that were corded with muscle, wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. His husky, accented voice that sounded like pure honey as he complimented you. Your dreams were filled with Simon's instinctual protection. Flashes of him braking hard in the Hum-vee, making sure to lash out a tattooed arm in front of your stomach to shield you. Flashes of him gently taking your chin in his hand and tilting your face after an explosive goes off, ensuring that your ears weren’t bleeding and no debris had hit your face. Flashes of him sweeping you off your feet and carrying you in his arms the second he sees you sporting limp on a mission.

In the dream, you heard their voices as clear as day. You welcomed it, even in the dream, because you feared that would be the last time you ever heard their voices.

“Bonnie,” Johnny's accented voice echoed in your head, a bit cloudy from being submerged in the rest of the dream.

“Lovie,” Simon's usually commanding voice had softened remarkably, as if he wanted to comfort you and drag you further into slumber.

Their voices continued overlapping in your dream, acting as a tether to your unconscious state. You hung onto every last word, every last syllable, desperate to be out of this hell hole. Even if dreaming would be your only escape, you would gladly take it.

In your dream, they would cup your cheek and wipe away the fat tears that fall down your face. They would pull you into their chests and let you bury your face in their vests, soaking the fabric with your tears and snot.

“We got you,” they would murmur in your dream, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

They kept repeating that phrase, turning into a mantra of sorts, becoming louder with each repetition.

They became so loud in fact, that it pulled you from your state of consciousness and made you gasp awake.

“We got you, Y/N!” They shouted as you took in your surroundings.

What you saw made tears pool in your eyes. Captain Price, Kyle, Johnny and Simon. They were all storming into your room, dressed in their usual combat gear and sporting their preferred assault rifles. Racing over to your cot with concern etched onto their faces as they took in your injured state, tear stained face and your new arm.

Before they could make even two steps toward you, gun shots rang out from Russian soldiers.

“No!” You wailed, vision blurring and lips trembling.

Blood spattered on the walls and onto the floor as the bullets tore apart the bodies of the four men in your life. Their corpses bodies fell limp on the dirty floor, blood pooling around them. Their guts and intestines were spilling out of their stomach. You could see their muscle and fat, covered in a sheen of crimson.

You could only sob as you watched the life drain from the four men’s eyes.

Captain Price was still just looking at you, his lips freezing in a sad smile as his eyes glazed over. His hat was knocked off during the shooting, revealing his hair bloodied and matted. Brain matter scattered the surrounding area.

Kyle was staring up at the ceiling, eyes looking but not actually seeing. In addition to taking multiple rounds in his chest, his carotid artery was shot, leaving him to quickly bleed to death.

You screamed into your hands when it came to your last two boys, to the loves of your life.

Johnny was smiling, somehow. Even as his mohawk was soaked in blood and brain matter. Even as his face was splattered in his own guts, and blood was leaking from his mouth. He was still fucking smiling at you, his pearly whites now tainted by the crimson liquid. His eyes drove a knife through your heart and twisted. His once vibrant cerulean eyes were now empty and drained of any life. There was no emotion, no warmth.

Looking at Simon is what took that same knife that was buried in your heart, and thrusted it back in. Over and over and over. His mask had fallen off from the hitting the ground so hard. His honeyed eyes that once entranced you, enthralled you, were now rolled back into his skull. His face was revealed for anyone to see. Only it was covered in blood, every single inch of it. His bleach blond hair was drenched in crimson, the strands sticking to his forehead. His eyelashes that used to be so white and pretty were now covered in the same liquid as it dripped down his face. His mouth was open in a silent scream, blood trickling out of his mouth. His neck was torn apart, allowing you to see every muscle and tendon and even some bone.

Both Johnny's hands were outstretched, reaching towards you. Even when they were dead. Murdered. Slaughtered. They were still reaching out for you.

No pain in the world could compare to this. You clutched your stomach and screamed, trying to get rid of the pain in your heart but you couldn’t. You just kept wailing and gasping for air.

They were all dead.

Dead because of you.

No matter where you looked, there was blood. On the walls, on the floor, on the cot. Some had even splattered onto you.

Fitting, considering their blood was on your hands. Literally and figuratively.

You tried to close your eyes but all you saw was dead eyes and gaping holes, skin torn apart and muscle shredded to pieces. You tried to convince yourself that it was all just a dream, conjured up by your state of delirium. But every time you peeked your eyes open, your worst fears were just confirmed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You sobbed.

“I’m so sorry. It should have been me.”

Suddenly, the door to your room creaked open and in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The scene before you completely disappeared. All of the bodies were gone, along with all of the intestines and guts piled around them. The pools of blood were gone, the floor wasn’t even stained from it.

The room was exactly the same as it had been for weeks.

It was all a hallucination. They never came for you. They were never murdered right in front of you. They were alive.

You were going insane, but they were alive.

The relief that flooded your chest was short lived once you saw who opened the door. It was the same doctor who wielded the bone saw.

The doctor that dismembered you.

next chapter

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[unreliablesnake]

The dress (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: You're looking for the perfect wedding dress.

Note: I mentioned the wedding in Hold on tight. So why not? / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

“I don’t like it,” Vincent stated, his tone not giving room for disagreement. “This silhouette doesn’t look good on you, mon amour. Try something else.”

The employee of the bridal store nodded nervously, but you had a hard time keeping your cool. “Vincent, you shouldn’t even see my dress before the wedding. Go home,” you ordered.

He slowly stood up and walked over to you. The sales associate took several steps back, giving you the chance to talk as privately as it was possible in the middle of the store. You looked into his green eyes as if you were challenging him, and the barely visible smile tugging on his lips gave away that he liked this little game of yours.

While he wanted to control your life, you kept testing the limits, reminding him that you only stay as long as you can have relative freedom. He didn’t like that, but he was willing to accept it for now. The wedding was something he wanted to keep in his own hands, though. He hired Europe’s best wedding planner to help with the event, and he wanted it to be a surprise for you. You could take part in the planning every once in a while, but you weren’t allowed to see the full picture before the big day.

“You want me to leave?” he asked you as he ran a finger down from your chin to tour your cleavage. “Say the word, love, and I’ll leave.”

You wanted him to leave, but as you thought about it, you realized that you were completely alone here in Paris. You didn’t have any friends, no one other than your fiancé to help you with choosing the dress. He knew that perfectly well, this is why he was so certain you would let him stay.

No, you shouldn’t let him control you like that. “Please, leave. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” you said quietly as you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Vincent drew in a sharp breath as he watched you. “All right, I’ll leave. But don’t expect to leave the bedroom anytime soon,” he told you with a predatory smile.

Nodding, you watched as he turned around and left the store. You knew you weren’t completely alone, he surely left some members of his security team around to keep you safe, but that didn’t matter now. After taking a deep breath, you turned to the employee with a wide grin and said, “Okay, let’s see something show stopping. I want his jaw to drop when he sees me.”

“As you wish. I have the perfect dress in mind,” she said kindly. “Please, wait in the fitting room, I will be there in a minute.”

Ten minutes later you were looking at your reflection in the mirror, admiring the dress you had on. It was perfect. As it turned out, this one came straight from the runway, and you could feel it in your bones that this was the one. But you needed a second opinion, and it sure as hell wouldn’t come from a sales associate who wanted to sell it to you.

God, you were thinking like Vincent already. You would have taken their advice back in New York.

You had your phone with you, so you quickly started a video call and waited for Winston to answer. You couldn’t tell your parents you were getting married to a guy you barely knew and they hadn’t met yet, but Winston knew about Vincent, and he was the closest thing you had to a father.

“Well, good afternoon to you,” he said with a smile.

“Good morning, Winston. I need your opinion.” He raised an eyebrow as he waited for your explanation. “I’m in a bridal store and I’m wearing a dress that I love, but I’m alone and I need a second opinion,” you said.

You could see the way he froze at the word bridal. Shit, you hadn’t told him yet. “Are you getting married?” he asked slowly. You bit on your lower lip as you nodded. “Congratulations, I believe.”

You glanced over at the employee, giving her a look that said she should leave the room for now. This was another trick you had learned from your fiancé, one that came in handy every now and then.

“I know it sounds bad, and rushed, and I shouldn’t do it, but–”

“You love him,” he finished for you. When you nodded, he let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you one hundred percent sure that this is what you want? A divorce can be messy, especially from him.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t hurt me.” It was a lie, you knew he would, but you didn’t want to worry him. Not when you were trying to focus on one thing at the time, in this case the dress. So you cleared your throat and began to change the topic. “As for the dress,” you said with a smile, “I wanted to go for something special, something grandiose. I want him to forget how to breathe when he sees me at the altar.”

You asked the employee to return and help you with the phone. She took it from you, introduced herself to Winston shortly, then began to film you from every angle. You couldn’t see Winston’s reaction, but you got more and more nervous as the seconds passed.

Then the woman gave you back the device, and you finally saw your friend. “What do you think?”

“It’s gorgeous,” he replied with a smile.

Nodding, you turned to the employee and told her you were choosing this one. When she left to take care of everything related to the purchase, and also giving you some more privacy, you turned your attention back to your old boss.

“How are you? We haven’t really talked in a while,” you added guiltily.

It was your fault entirely. He tried to call, but you never really picked up, and barely answered his messages. Everything happened this way because of Vincent, who kept you way too occupied to think about home. You were addicted to him, and sadly he knew that perfectly well.

“Well, I’m all right,” came his reply. “The new concierge seems to be good. Not as good as Charon, of course, but she will learn all the tricks eventually.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You know, I was thinking about going home for a week or two to visit my family. If I go, can I visit you too?”

“You’re always welcome in the Continental, dear.”

With a smile, you nodded and promised you would visit then. After this you quickly said your goodbyes, and you headed back to the fitting room in the company of another employee to get out of the dress. It hurt you to leave the beautiful dress behind, knowing it would take a while to get your very own, but you had to be strong for now.

It was late in the evening when Vincent got home from a meeting, and he immediately dragged you to the bedroom with a wicked smile. “I missed you so much,” he whispered against your lips.

You buried your fingers into his hair as you returned the kiss, smiling to yourself at the proximity that you were craving. But then you stopped and pulled away a bit, causing him to give you a questioning look. “I want to go home,” you began, suddenly realizing you phrased it quite badly. “It’s just a visit, for a week or two. I would see my parents, and maybe I would stop by the Continental.”

Vincent visibly relaxed after hearing the explanation. “You want me to stay here without you for that long?”

“I thought you should come with me. Not to the Continental, of course. I’m thinking about visiting my parents together,” you said.

He placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose as he thought it through. “I assumed you didn’t want to introduce me,” he noted with an interested look.

You shrugged. “I changed my mind. But you’ll need casual clothes, not these suits. They must believe that you’re just some guy from Paris,” you told him with a smile.

“Just some guy? Is that so?” he asked as he playfully bit your earlobe, then let his lips travel down your jawline. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Try. For me. Please,” you added, looking up at him with your big, begging eyes.

You knew this would work. “How could I say no when you’re begging me like this?” he asked huskily before pulling you into another, hungry kiss. “But I’ll make you beg all night in return, my love.”

[ikemen-translations]

Morganatic Idol Prologue 1/10

Just as each star shines differently, each person has a different charm.

I believe that everyone has their own brilliance.

However... sometimes there are stars that emit light many times more intense.

The sparkle is so intense and dazzling...

The light is so strong that it blurs the surrounding stars, attracting everyone, making them yearn for something... and sometimes even giving them the courage to live.

I never knew that there were such overwhelmingly beautiful stars until I met them.

This is my Cinderella Story, guided by those dazzling stars...

Office

The sound of someone typing on a keyboard echoes in the noisy office

(I think this is fine)

After I finished entering the data, I let out a sigh.

(All you have to do is check it and submit it, and all your morning work is done)

Eiko Mori: Mr. Kawanaga, have you done what I asked you to do?

MC: Ah, Mori-san. Yes, please check it

Mori: Then next time, please hurry up more and give me a copy of the document

Interrupting my words, Mori-san quickly placed a stack of materials on the desk

MC: "Oh, I understand..."

I sigh softly as I listen her leaving with the sound of heels clicking.

(Additional work, huh? It can't be helped. let's hurry and get it done!)

This is Aegis Public Holdings, a company located in Tokyo.

It's a major advertising agency that handles a wide range of advertising on TV, magazines, internet, etc.

The department that produces advertisements is the Create Division, I work here as a temporary employee

When I was looking for a job, I went to the final interview at Aegis and unfortunately failed.

(I was really disappointed at that time. Fortunately I was able to get a job offer in another industry...)

I had always dreamed of becoming an advertising planner, and I just couldn't give up on working for Aegis.

That's why I chose to become a temporary employee

(When I think about that, I can't keep whining)

(I've always admired Aegis for a long time. And being able to work in the Create Division is an amazing thing in itself)

Lunch break

As i walked through a nearby park with my lunch in hand, I remembered the materials I had copied earlier.

(If I remember correctly, that was a commercial for drinking water that Mr. Mori worked on)

(That's amazing... I want to do someting big like that someday)

Mr. Mori is a full-time employee and the leader of the team I belong to. She is said to be the ace of the department.

The other employees are all people who have built up their careers through their upbringing.

(Everyone is doing a good job, looks stylish, and is full of confidence)

It's so sparkly and dazzling... I still don't have that kind of confidence...

(I mainly work as an assistant, and I don't have enough experience to be involved in the main work...)

Even in eating lunch , the difference is obvious... I make my own lunch to save money but the full-time employees get a special lunch from a fancy restaurant

(... No, no, no... The bento that I took so much effort to make won't taste as good but It's ok)

I Shake my head to get rid of the dark feeling

(I got into Aegis anyway, so now I'll work steadily and gain solid experience)

And... someday, I want to be promoted to a full-time position, create wonderful advertisements and give dreams to others

Just as I was once encouraged by an advertisement I saw when I was feeling down... that is my dream

(Okey, let's do our best this afternoon too!)

Office

(What is it? It's kind of noisy)

Manager: Everyone, listen please! The sales department has just landed an incredibly large project!

The section manager looks excited and speaks in front of everyone

Manager: It's a commercial for a new perfume from the major French brand "Esance"!

Manager: This product will be rolled out worldwide, and of course the commercial will be aired all over the world!

MC: The whole world!?

(Amazing! But why did such a worldwide project go to a Japanese agency?)

Manager: Actually, this time, Ezans has specified the image character to be used in the commercial

Manager: Exe Creed!

At that moment, the screams of female employees rang out

Exe Creed is a Japanese male idol group that is popular all over the world

Their strength lies in self-production, from song writing, composition and choreography to costume design and stage direction

With their outstanding singing and dancing, they quickly exploded in popularity as soon as they were formed and rose to the top

Their momentum is not limited to Japan, but they are a global group that has topped the American hit charts

(Even I, who don't know anything about idols, know about it)

There is not a day that goes by that I don't see them in the media and I hear that they have many passionate fans all over the world

(I see... The reason Ezans entrusted the commercial to Japan was to use Exe Creed)

(But up until now, famous Hollywood actresses have always done the commercials for Ezans)

(Japanese idol... and It's outrageous that a man is nominated...!?)

Apparently, the advertising agency that will handle this project will be decided through a competition between multiple companies

Manager: We will definitely win, we are putting the prestige of our company on the line!

The enthusiastic manager said something even more surprising

Since the person chosen was a world-famous idol we asked for a wider rang of opinions but in the end, all employees seem to be able to come up with plans, regardless of department or position

(This is a great opportunity! Even as a temporary worker, I might be able to be involved in creating advertisements from the planning stage...!)

My heart pounded violently. The feeling of "I want to try it" overflows

Female employee 1: If I'm selected does that mean I will be able to meet the Exes?

Female employee 2: I'll do it!

Mori: It's amazing that It's on a global scale and It's with Exes, I can't miss it!

While the office is buzzing with excitement, a fire is burning inside my heart. I was thinking of a plan, and I started to feel anxious.

I'll show them what I can do!

(Let's do it. I'll think of a plan and I'll definitely grab this chance!)

Next

[eleganzadellarosa]

Business Before Pleasure

Part 1

💕 pairing: Cha Eun Woo x fem!reader, Cha Eun Woo x OC

✨ genres: Dark Romance, CEO!au, eventual smut

💕 summary: After losing your job, you pursue your dream of working as a secretary. What you thought would be a piece of cake, turns into more because your boss is a POS

✨ author’s note: This fic is based off of an IG pause game lol. This will be a multi part fic so I will upload them as I write. If you would like to be tagged when I upload, please leave a comment! This first part is short but I hope the following parts will be over 2K words. Thank you for reading and enjoy your day <3 P.S the pictures I'll be using for this are not what the character looks like, just as reference to their style or personality.

💕 word count: 2.26K

To say you hated your job was an understatement. You had been working as an at home event planner, only visiting the office for important meetings or to meet with certain clients. It's been 3 years since you started working for the company and to think you bared through the stress for this long should be counted as an achievement. Truthfully you stayed for the pay. Yes it wasn't amazing but it paid your bills and anything else necessary so it slightly outweighed the cons. Tonight however, you regretted your tenacity with how the woman on the other end was yelling at you. She complained and complained about how her entire event was ruined because of a simple mistake that wasn't even on the company’s part but she felt the need to be compensated.

"Yes ma'am, I understand the problem you're having and I'm doing my best to help you. However, I am only able to do that if you stop yelling."

That only seemed to fuel her anger more and she blurted some obscenities before hanging up on you. You rolled your eyes and looked over at the time. It was already 9:45 pm aka 45 minutes past your time to get off. You sucked your teeth and quickly clocked out before shutting down your computer and standing to stretch your legs. Punctuality was one of your biggest traits, especially when it came to your meals but with you staying over time, you had no energy to stand and make yourself dinner. Takeout was your best bet now and as you scrolled through the many options available, an email notification pops up on your screen. You cringed when you saw it was from your boss and already knew why he bothered emailing you so late.

He was an asshole to say the least. He always treated his employees like crap and would penalize them whenever they worked overtime. He especially seemed to hate you for some reason and you were never really sure why. You open the email and read its contents, predicting what you would see, only to be utterly shocked.

Dear Ms. Meng,

I am regretfully emailing you to inform you that due to complaints and interactions with your client tonight, we will unfortunately have to terminate your contract with us. At this time we are unable to reconsider this decision. We hope that you will succeed in your future endeavors.

Best Regards,

A.P Wilson

This could NOT be happening, especially after you took the time out to try and help her as best as you could with an issue that wasn't even your fault. You never received client complaints, so she would be the first and apparently last. You immediately scrolled through your contacts and selected your boss' number and gave him a call.

"Ah Ms. Meng I expected you to call. Unfortunately as I said in my email, the decision is not up for discussion."

"Mr. Wilson" you put on your best fake smile even though he couldn't see it on the other end of the call. "Would you care to inform me how one complaint from a client lead to my termination? Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"A bit much? You were 45 minutes over time with a client you weren't even being considerate to. She said you yelled at her and didn't help her at all. What am I, as a good boss, supposed to take from that?"

"I don't know, maybe ask your employee first before you just let them go? But I forgot, you have your head so far up your ass that you are so busy worrying about paying your employees extra for overtime that you didn't notice that she tried to get a full refund and then some for an issue that wasn't even our faults! Fuck you and fuck this company!"

You didn't even bother to hear what else he had to say and hung up. This job was never really worth it and maybe now you could get an office job that you actually preferred with a boss that you actually liked, no matter how hard those are to come by. You sat on your bed with your brows furrowed and tossed your phone to the other end. You were pissed and now you didn't even want dinner.

Flopping onto your stomach at the other end of your bed, you picked up your phone and immediately typed in a job searching website. Office jobs were common and shouldn't be that hard to find, yet after scrolling through almost 20 pages and finding nothing, you ended your search early. It was only the first day and unemployment should process quickly so you had a few months before you were flat broke. Surrendering to the growling in your stomach, you settle on some tacos for the night.

There was no point in sitting at home sulking when you could be enjoying your unintentional vacation. You never had much time for your friends before, so now was best to call them up to hang out. It was a unanimous decision on meeting at a cafe to chat and have some decent coffee.

"Hey girly!" your best friend Priya called out to you, wrapping an arm around you as she approached. "This is great, finally some time to yourself and time for me!"

Priya has been your best friend since high school. She was your ride or die, there for you whenever you needed her. She was on the much more outgoing side personality wise, but you liked that about her, it helped you get out of your comfort zone. To say this friendship was a blessing would be a severe understatement. You were grateful for her and so was she for you.

"How are you handling everything?"

"I'm doing great actually. I'm going to take this as a sign to go for what I really want." You push the door open for her and allow her to walk in.

"Optimistic as always. We love a consistent girl like you Faye."

A few minutes later, two more friends, Liz and Ada, popped into the cafe and happily rushed over to where you and Priya sat. You slid over to make space on your end of the booth for Ada to fit.

"Someone must have sold their soul to get this girl out." Ada says, bumping her shoulder against yours.

"Haha no, I actually got fired."

The whole table spent about 10 minutes cursing out your boss and praising how much of a good worker you were. As much as you hated how everything was handled, you were telling the truth when you said you were fine.

"Actually, one of my friends from college works at this business and they're looking for a new secretary. If you want, I can hook you up with all the info." Liz interrupts the "boss bashing" and you focus solely on what she has to say. "And I heard the boss is super hot."

You laughed and shook your head. She was always trying to be the matchmaker of the group and almost always ended up failing. You appreciated her efforts though, you haven't had a boyfriend or any love interests since highschool. Boys weren't really on your mind since you broke up with your last one, he was just like every other douchebag guy you knew of.

"Actually Liz, I'm going to have to take you up on that offer. Can you ask your friend if she minds that I have her number? I want to ask her about a few things before I apply."

She quickly nodded and immediately got to typing on her phone.

This was it. Your dream job coming true before your eyes and you didn't know how to handle the happiness. It checked off all the marks you wanted and then some. Sure there were a few things you didn't like about the job but nevertheless, it was what you wanted and you didn't let the chance pass you by.

Today your interview was scheduled for "noon sharp" as the secretary informed you just a few days before. You were all about great first impressions, so you made sure to be here 15 minutes early.

The building was huge and slightly overwhelming. You walked through the revolving doors that lead to the large space. It made you feel important and like the characters you would see on dramas that scanned their key cards to get past the turnstile gates.

There was a middle aged fair skinned woman sitting at a large desk on which the words "information" was read, with a phone between her face and shoulder.

"Hello, can I help you?" She looks at you with a bubbly smile, teeth pearly white.

"Yes, I have an interview with EWX"

"Oh yes, they're expecting you. Take this elevator on the left and go to the 4th floor."

You silently thanked her and waved goodbye as she took another call. The more the elevator ascended, the more your anxiety rose. It's been years since you were last on an interview and you suddenly felt like you left all your experience and skills with your old job. The elevator dinged when it reached the 4th floor and the two doors opened. There was another woman at the front desk on this floor and she smiled when she saw you.

"You must be Faye, here for the interview?"

"I am! Do I need to sign in?"

"Not at all, go ahead and take a seat and they'll be out here shortly."

You sat in the small waiting area for about 5 minutes before you heard someone call your name. When you turned around and looked, there was a girl, seemingly around your age looking over the front desk to see where you sat. Admittedly you were short, but she looked past you as if expecting to see someone a bit older.

"Oh, you're Faye?"

"Yes, I am." You chuckled and put your hand out to shake hers.

She sneered and hesitated to shake your hand. "Wonderful.” She says, sarcasm heavily laced in her voice “Right this way."

You didn't want to think negatively about her behavior but there was only one way to assess it. That's not what you were here for though and you wouldn't let it affect your professionalism. When you entered the interview room, there were two other people there; a man and another woman.

The interview went well. They asked you about yourself, your work history and how you found out about this position. They appeared to be pleased with your answers and said they would be contacting you within the next few days.

The first girl you met eventually introduced herself as Ashley and walked you back out to the waiting room.

"Don't get your hopes up, the boss doesn't really like people like you and most people don't last long."

You looked at her as you pressed the button for the elevator. "Do you mind elaborating on 'people like me'?" She was leaving a bad taste in your mouth but you gave her one last chance to turn it around.

"You know, extremely bubbly, overzealous. Just stop trying so hard and maybe you'll have a chance."

You wanted to roll your eyes. She obviously either has a crush on this man or secretly fucks him and thinks she's better than everyone else, but you bet money it was the former. "Well Ashley, I guess we'll just have to see if the boss wants 'someone like me' to be a breath of fresh air after dealing with someone like you." The elevator opened as you finished your sentence and you stepped in. "Have a great day!"

It's been 3 days since you last spoke with them and the weekend was quickly approaching. It was only your first interview so you knew not to put all your eggs in one basket, but you really wanted for it to work out.

You stood at the stove, phone propped up against your toaster as you made yourself a quick lunch. "I'm so excited to hear back from them whether they want me or not."

"I'm glad you're looking on the bright side and not letting it get you down." Ada praises your optimism and confidence.

"Same and for not letting that jealous bitch get to your head." Priya added.

"I'm sorry if they say no, I'm going to feel like it's my fault for even mentioning it." You looked over and saw a pout on Liz's face.

"Aww Lizzie, don't feel that way. I'm actually so much more eager about finding this type of work so this interview was a big step."

Just then, a number you don't have saved rings your line and you quickly put your friends on hold to answer it.

"Yes, is this Ms. Meng?"

"Yes, speaking!"

"Oh great, this is Sabrina with EWX, I was just letting you know that we would like to offer you the position. Are you still interested?"

"That would be wonderful!"

"Great! We would love for you to come in this Monday to get a fresh start and learn the ropes. Is that too sudden?"

"Not at all! Thank you again for this opportunity and I will see you all Monday!"

"Wonderful, it was a pleasure speaking with you Ms. Meng and we'll see you Monday!"

You quickly switched back over to the group call with your friends and they immediately knew of the great news with the huge smile you wore. They all screamed, clapped and congratulated you.

You never expected to get over this big hump so quickly but you were no less than grateful. This was big for you and you couldn't wait to see what your new job had in store.

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

WIP Wednesday- Wedding Planner AU Babymoon

This won the poll from yesterday, so here's some of what I got so far. Thanks to the anon that reminded me of this idea that I had months ago!

 “I think she knows when you get home by now,” She gently took Sasha’s hand, placed it on the curve of her stomach, and waited. After a few seconds, Sasha felt the familiar thuds from Anetra’s bump under her hand. She smiled, that feeling would never get old. 

“Five more weeks,” Sasha said, her hand staying in place as she reached up to peek Anetra on the lips.

Anetra smiled, “Baby wants pasta for dinner,” she said as she led Sasha through the hall, passing by the empty bedroom they planned for the nursery. “With a lot of garlic bread,”

“Whatever baby wants, we’ll take it,” Sasha said, sitting on the stool at the breakfast bar as Anetra started to get ready to cook dinner. She found the pile of mail from the day on the counter, none of it touched yet. 

As Anetra took out a cutting board with a knife to chop the vegetables, Sasha started organizing the bills and spam mail. At the bottom of the pile, a small bright yellow piece of paper caught her eye. “What’s this?” she asked out loud.

“I found it taped to the front door, but I didn’t know what to do with it,” Anetra shrugged as she threw the onion skin in the trash. “I didn’t know that we could get evicted from a house we own,” she said as she chopped.

“Evicted?” Sasha said in surprise as she pulled out the paper to read it. The paper had the words ‘Eviction Notice: Please call the number provided for additional details in regards to your housing’ printed on it, with a local phone number at the bottom. 

Sasha fished her cell phone from her purse, “I’m gonna call this number. I don’t know if this is a prank or what but-” she said as she typed the number on the keypad. She paused as she noticed that the number was already saved in her phone. 

“Hello?”

“Luxx, you better have a good reason for evicting your boss from her own damn house.” Sasha sighed into the phone, too tired for her employee’s shenanigans. 

“Relax, you only have to leave for a few days, I just need you two out of the house while we work on the nursery,”

[winchesterwild78]

Chance Meeting pt 22

Master list

18+ Minors DO NOT interact

Please be kind and all mistakes are my own. All work is mine. Please don’t take or copy it.

Warnings: Fluff, a little sadness (Jensen is leaving for a bit), wedding planning, a little light smut

A/N: Fluffy chapter leading up to the wedding. Jensen has to leave for work. I edited this quickly, so please overlook any errors. A little long, sorry got carried away.

———————————————————————

The next few weeks were filled with answering the same questions over and over again. Family, friends and news organizations reached out to you and Jensen about your statements and about the situation. Your families and friends were excited you moved up the wedding day and they looked forward to the celebration. Jensen was busy getting ready to head to Toronto to do some work on a new project and wanted you to go with him. He was still worried about leaving you since Ashley made bail.

“Jensen, I have to stay here and work on wedding stuff. I promise I’ll be okay. The bodyguard Clif recommended has been working out great so far. If I need anything I promise I’ll call Gen and Jared.” You said as you hugged him. “If you’re sure then I’ll let them know I couldn’t convince you to go.” Jensen said with a little pouty face. You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled into his chest. “Babe, don’t worry I’ll be okay. I want to go but since the wedding is coming up soon I need to finalize some things. I still don’t have my dress.” You said holding him tight.

Jensen smirked and said “I’d be okay if you didn’t wear anything”. “I’m sure you would, but I doubt our families and friends would appreciate that.” You said laughing. Jensen’s phone rang and he answered it. It was his manager and they needed him in Toronto the day after tomorrow. The filming schedule was ahead and they wanted to keep it rolling. “Hey sweetheart, I have to leave earlier than expected. Filming is ahead of schedule and they need me.” Jensen said grabbing his suitcase from the closet.

“I get it. I’ll help you pack. Do you have a flight yet” you asked walking towards the bedroom. “Yeah, I leave tomorrow morning at 7am” he said walking behind you. “Ugh, so soon” now you were the one pouting. “It’s fine. We’ll just have to make the most of the time we have. Should we see if you can get the kids tonight so you can spend some time with them before you have to leave” you asked him. “I’ll call her in a little bit. I’m gonna pack first.” He said grabbing some clothes from the closet.

You slipped out of the room and called his ex. “Hey, Jens schedule got changed and he leaves tomorrow morning. Is there anyway you can bring the kids over so he can spend time with them before he leaves?” You asked her. “Oh, sure. I can have them there in about 30 minutes. Are you going with him” she asked. “No, I have so much left to do for the wedding. I’d love to go but since the wedding is in a little over a month I have to stay and finish planning. I honestly thought I had more time but since we bumped it up it snuck up on me.” You said laughing.

“Well if there is anything I can help with let me know. I’ll have the kids over there soon.” She said. “Thanks. I appreciate the offer and you bringing the kids to see him. I know he’s going to be excited. See you soon” you said as you hung up. Back in the room Jensen was busy packing his bags and making sure he had everything he needed. “Hey babe, I hope to be back in plenty of time to help you finish wedding prep. Let me know what I can do while away to help you out.” He said as he busied himself around the room.

“Thanks Jens. Between Gen, the wedding planner, your sister and y/f/n I think I’ve got everything covered. Besides, we already have your outfit so I don’t need you for that. Plus the employees at the brewery are being helpful with figuring out setup and planning for there. You just focus on the project and the sooner you’re done the faster you will be back home with me” you kissed him as he walked past you.

About 30 minutes later Jensen was packed and his bags were downstairs. It made you sad seeing his bags packed, but you love him and this is part of loving him. It’s a small price to pay to be loved by this amazing man. You were in the kitchen and the doorbell rang. “You expecting someone” Jensen asked you. “Yep, and so are you” you said with a smile.

Jensen opened the door to see 3 smiling faces looking up at him. He grinned and dropped to his knees throwing his arms around his children. “Daddy” they all squealed. They threw their arms around him almost knocking him over. The room filled with giggles and excitement. You walked over and his son ran to you “Mama y/n” I missed you. He said as he hugged you. “I missed you too buddy. I’m glad you could come see daddy and me” you said giving him a big hug.

Jensen was smiling and walked over to you and kissed you. “Thank you Y/N. I’m glad you went ahead and called her for me.” “Of course baby. I know you want to spend as much time with them as you can before you leave.” You smiled.

The kids were playing in the backyard with Jensen and you were standing in the kitchen making lunch and watching them. One of the things you loved the most about Jensen was how deeply he loved his children. He was an amazing father and his kids adored him. Once lunch was ready you carried it outside to the porch. You called everyone to wash up and to eat lunch.

You all sat at the table and started eating lunch. The kids were talking about school and friends while you and Jensen sat and listened. His oldest looked at Jensen and said “Daddy a girl at school said her mommy told her you were going to have another baby. Is that true” Jensen looked up from his food and made eye contact with you. “No, baby girl. That was a fake story. It’s not true at all. I’m sorry you had to hear that. Remember sometimes things get said about Daddy and your mom that aren’t always true.” He said with a gentle smile. You sat in silence replaying the past few months in your head. It has definitely been a roller coaster but being with him is worth it.

He’s one of the most genuine people you’ve ever met and he loves with his whole being. He’s the kind of guy you want through the good, bad and ugly. Jensen looked at you and mouthed “are you okay”. You shook your head yes. After lunch you cleaned up as the kids were playing. Jensen offered to help and you told him no and to go spend the time with his children.

He stepped off the porch and was running around the yard with the kids. The laughter and giggles made your heart happy. When he was home he wasn’t Jensen Ackles the star, he was just Jens or daddy. This was his favorite role, dad and fiancé.

As the day wore on you could see Jensen get sad. You pulled him into the kitchen and asked “Jensen, what’s wrong”. “I just don’t want to leave. It’s hard every time, but this time feels worse. Our wedding is soon and I’m leaving you with still so much left to do.” He said leaning his forehead against yours. You cupped his face and kissed him “honey it’s okay. I’ve got this and you’re not going to be gone too long. Besides, I have a ton of help.” He leaned in and kissed your lips softly. The two of you heard giggles behind you and you looked and saw the kids.

Jensen turned and said “who wants to make pizza and watch a movie”. “We do” all three kids said as they jumped up and down. You helped Jensen get the ingredients out and all three kids helped make the dough. You decided on individual pizzas because the kids all wanted something different on theirs. After the pizzas were in the oven the five of you went to the living room to pick out a movie. You all agreed on the new Little Mermaid movie. You helped Jensen set up a picnic area in the middle of floor. The kids all picked a spot and once the pizzas were done you helped Jensen bring them in.

Comfortable silence filled the room as everyone ate and watched the movie. Jensen sat back looking around the room at his kids and you. He loved how quickly his kids took to you and how you made room in your heart for them. His son found his way back in your lap. It quickly became his favorite place to sit. Jensen smiled as he realized how lucky he was. In about a month he gets to finally call you his wife and he was over the moon about it.

As the movie ended there was a knock at the door. Jensen answered it. His ex walked in with him to get the kids. The kids whined about leaving Jensen but they had school the next morning. Since Jensen’s fight was so early it was easier if they went home with her tonight. Lots of hugs, kisses and tears were exchanged. Jensen helped put them in the car and gave them all another hug and kiss. He promised to FaceTime them when he could.

When he walked back in the house he looked sad. You threw your arms around him and hugged him tight. “I know it’s hard to leave Jensen. You won’t be gone too long and they will be okay. I’ll see if I can get them a few times and they can come over and spend the night. I know it’s not the same without you here, but it might offer them some comfort.

He squeezed you tight and kissed you. “I love you, sweetheart. Having them here today was amazing and I think you having them come over while I’m gone is a great idea”.

“Come on Jensen let’s get some alone time in before you leave” you said grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs. He smiled and let you lead him to the bedroom. Once in the room you both removed your clothes while kissing each other like it was the first and last time. Jensen laid you down on the bed and started kissing you from your lips to your neck. Down your neck, across your collarbone and down to your breasts. The heat of his breath and the stubble of his beard set your skin on fire. You moaned with each kiss.

He was taking his time tonight. Studying and kissing every inch of you. He knew this would be the last time for a while and he was in no hurry. You had always felt uncomfortable with your body, but Jensen worshipped you and made you feel comfortable with every kiss and touch. His touch was slow and deliberate. You both savored every single moment you shared tonight. The two of you made love several times and each time was more amazing than the last.

After the last round of love making Jensen collapsed beside you on the bed. He took you in his arms and kissed your forehead. “ I love you, Y/N. I’m going to miss you so much while I’m gone.” He said as he kissed your lips. You cupped his face and whispered “Oh, Jensen, I love you too. I’m going to miss you too, but we will be together soon.”

The two of you laid in each other’s arms talking about the wedding and other things until you were both drifting off to sleep. As Jensen started to fall asleep he pulled you closer, kissed your head and told you he loved you. As you started to fall asleep you snuggled into his chest and whispered I love you too. Then both of you fell into a blissful sleep.

The sound of the alarm woke you up and Jensen groaned. He leaned over and turned off the alarm then pulled you back close to him. You sighed and hugged him tight. “Babe, we’ve got to get up. You have to be at the airport early.” You said as he pulled you tighter. “I know. It’s just so hard to leave you.” He groaned. He kissed your forehead gently and slowly got out of bed.

Jensen took a quick shower and you went downstairs to make him a coffee to go. He walked into the kitchen, hair still damp and messy and inhaled deeply. “Mmm coffee” he said. You smiled and handed him a cup. “I made you a cup to go too. Do you have everything you need for the flight” you asked. “Yeah, I’ve got my headphones, sunglasses and hat. My hoodie is in the closet but I’ll grab it” Jensen said as he walked over towards the hall closet.

His phone went off indicating it was time to leave. Your heart grew sad as you both walked to the door. You grabbed your purse and helped him grab his stuff. Jensen put his bag in the back and climbed in the driver’s seat. You hopped in the passenger seat. As Jensen pulled out of the driveway he took your hand in his. Interlocking your fingers and he placed a soft kiss on your hand.

Jensen knew you were sad, hell so was he. This was the first project he’d done since the two of you got together. Leaving was always hard on him and you knew it. You did your best to keep the tears back. The last thing you wanted to do was make it harder on him. A single tear slipped out and you quickly wiped it away. Hoping he didn’t see it.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart.” Jensen offered a soft smile. “I know babe, I’m just going to miss you so much” you stifled a sob. You tried to occupy your time with wedding talk. Jensen really wanted a huge chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. You laughed and told him the wedding cake was already ordered and it was going to be a surprise. He gave you a little pout and it made you smile. He didn’t know you ordered a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for the cake a few weeks ago. The baker thought it was a weird request for a wedding cake but she had some ideas for it and you told her she had creative control.

Jensen pulled up to the airport and parked. You helped him get his bags and the two of you walked in. He did an early check in on his phone so he was able to head straight to security. You couldn’t go through without a ticket so you two had to say your goodbyes there. He pulled you close and held you tight. He kissed your head and you lost it. Sobs muffled by his chest as tears soaked his shirt. He rubbed your back trying to console you. “I know baby. I’ll be home before you know it and we’re going to be married. Just focus on that. I love you, Y/N” You leaned back and took a breath. Jensen wiped the tears from your face and kissed your lips. “I love you, Jensen. I’ll put all my focus on the wedding and I’ll keep my phone near me. You FaceTime me whenever you can. I don’t care if you’ve wrapped for the day and it’s super late. You call me so I can at least hear your voice or see you.” You said holding him tight. “I promise baby. I’ll try to text or call on breaks and let you know how it’s going.” He kissed you deeply and said he had to go. You kissed him again and let him go.

You stood there watching as he went through security and headed towards his gate. He stopped and blew you a kiss and waved. You sat on a nearby chair and cried. You knew this day was going to come but damn did it hurt. You should be going with him. If you didn’t have a wedding to plan you would be by his side.

An older woman came over and sat beside you and asked if you were okay. You told her yes and thank you. You explained your fiancé had just left for work and would be gone up until the wedding. She offered you a hug and told you everything would be okay. You smiled softly and told her you had to go.

Jensen texted you and told you he loved you and the plane was getting ready to leave. He said he’d text when he could. You told him you loved him and to have a safe flight. Once in the car you headed towards the house.

Walking in the door you were greeted by silence. You sat on the couch and sighed. Pulling out your wedding planning notebook you decided to occupy your time. You looked at your checklist and realized most of the things were done. You texted Gen and asked if she was available to go dress shopping with you today. She said once she got the kids to school she was open all day. You two decided to meet at the bridal shop at 10am.

You went upstairs to shower and could still smell Jensen’s shampoo and cologne. You laid on the bed for a minute on his side breathing in his scent. You had no idea how you were going to make it through but hopefully wedding planning would be a wonderful distraction.

About 30 minutes later you were showered and dressed. You walked downstairs and turned on the tv just for noise. You couldn’t stand how quiet it was in the house. The house was usually filled with the sounds of the kids, Jensen singing or the laughter you two share. You looked at your phone and noticed you had a ton of notifications. Opening Instagram you saw Jensen made a post. You smiled looking at his photo. He took a picture of himself on the plane and you noticed there was a second picture. You swiped and saw a picture of you with his kids. You didn’t know he took it. The four of you were hanging out on the floor and his son was in your lap. That’s when you read the caption. “Heading out to an important meeting. I’m missing these four like crazy already. To my love, I can’t wait to come home and marry you. I love you Y/N.” You smiled and found your heart was a little more at peace.

You read the comments and most of them were very sweet and supportive. You ignored the ugly ones. You decided to reply and said: I love you too, Jens. I can’t wait to marry you as soon as you get back. I’ll be the one at the end of the aisle surrounded by our children. 😘💜💙. You made your way to the kitchen for a quick snack before you had to leave to meet Gen. You were so excited to pick out your dress and she was the perfect person to go with you.

Forever tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @jensengirl83 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373

[archiveikemen]

Morganatic Idol Prologue: Chapter 1

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Ever since my childhood, I loved looking up at the stars.

The tiny yet comforting twinkling of the stars resembled the different people living in this world.

Gentle, powerful, glamorous.

Just like how stars have different kinds of light, everyone has a different kind of personal charm unique to themselves.

I believed that everyone shines in their own way.

But… amongst them, there will be one who shines much brighter.

With overwhelmingly dazzling light…

A light so bright that it outshines the other stars surrounding it, drawing everyone’s attention to it and making them fall in love with it… occasionally, it also gives some people the courage to continue living.

Before I met him, I never knew about the existence of a star with such overwhelming beauty.

This is my Cinderella Story led by those dazzlingly beautiful stars—.

…

The clattering sounds of people typing away on their keyboards resonated through the bustling office.

(That should be all.)

I exhaled with a huff after completing my data entry.

(I’ll be done with all the tasks I have for this morning once I verify and submit this.)

Mori Eiko: Kawanaga-san, have you completed the thing I asked for?

Kawanaga Rina: Oh, Mori-san. Yes, I was about to verify the data entered before—

Mori: Then go photocopy these documents for me. Be quick with it.

Cutting me off mid-sentence, Mori-san quickly tossed a stack of documents onto my desk.

Rina: U-understood…

Watching her leave with the clicking sound of her high heels, I heaved a quiet sigh.

(More work, huh. I don’t have a choice. Let’s quickly get this done!)

Aegis Public Holdings — a Tokyo-based advertising company that handles advertisements across a wide range of media platforms including the TV, magazines, and the internet.

I worked as a temporary employee in their creative department, which was responsible for producing such advertisements.

I successfully progressed to the final interview with Aegis back when I was job-hunting, but I unfortunately didn't make the cut in the end.

(At that time, I was really disappointed. Fortunately, I received a job offer from another industry…)

I had dreamt of becoming an advertising planner for a long time, and I absolutely couldn’t give up on working for Aegis.

That was why I decided to start my career pathway as a temporary employee.

(Whenever I think of it, I can’t bring myself to whine about my own choice.)

(I’ve always admired Aegis, and being able to work in their creative department is already very commendable.)

…

Time for my lunch break. I was walking through the nearby park with my bento in hand, and I thought of the documents I photocopied earlier on.

(If I’m not mistaken, that was the advertising project for a drinking water company Mori-san’s in-charge of.)

(Amazing… I want to work on a major project like that someday.)

Mori-san was a full-time employee and my team leader, she was often referred to as the department’s “Ace”.

The other employees who built their careers from the bottom up had stable jobs, dressed well… and were overflowing with confidence.

(They shine so bright… and yet, I still don't have that kind of confidence.)

(Most of my tasks are only the basic level work of an assistant, so I haven't had many opportunities to gain experience with handling the main responsibilities of our department.)

The stark contrast between myself and the full-time employees could even be seen in our lunches.

As a temporary employee on a budget, I would make my own bento and bring it to work. Meanwhile, the full-time employees enjoyed their lunches at fancy restaurants.

(... No, no, no. If I keep thinking of it like that, my bento won’t taste good anymore.)

I shook those depressing thoughts off.

(It doesn't matter how I landed a job at Aegis. I just have to work hard and gain work experience.)

Someday, I’ll be promoted to a full-time position and create advertisements that inspire those with dreams.

That was my dream… It was to inspire others the same way advertisements did for me when I felt hopeless.

(Okay. I’ll do my best in the afternoon!)

…

(What’s going on? Sounds like a commotion…)

Department Chief: Listen up, all of you! The sales department just secured a mega project!

The chief of our department was addressing everyone excitedly.

Department Chief: The project is to create an advertising campaign for a new perfume from the major french brand, “Aisance”!

Department Chief: This new product will be launched globally, so the advertising will also be aired all over the world!

Rina: W-worldwide!?

(That’s amazing! But if it's a global project, why would they approach a Japanese company…?)

Department Chief: Actually, Aisance has specified the brand ambassadors for their advertisement this time.

Department Chief: It’s exe Creed!

In an instant, the female employees in the office let out excited squeals.

exe Creed was a globally famous Japanese male idol group.

From songwriting, composing, choreographing, designing their own stage outfits, to directing their performances— being self-produced was one of their strengths.

Their outstanding vocal and dance skills put them on a quick road to stardom, topping the charts not only locally but even in America…

(Even someone like myself, who’s unfamiliar with idols, has heard of them.)

There was not a single day where they wouldn't be seen in the media, and I also heard that they had a very passionate fanbase around the world.

(I see. So Aisance chose a Japanese company for their advertising campaign because they want exe Creed to be their model.)

(But Aisance’s advertisements have always been featuring famous Hollywood actresses.)

(Now they’re choosing a group of Japanese idols… male idols… this is too surprising…!)

It seems that many advertising companies would be competing against one another to officially secure this project.

Department Chief: Our company’s reputation is on the line. We must definitely win this!

The enthusiastic department chief made an even more surprising announcement.

Due to the models being world famous idols, they were more open to opinions this time…

Everyone, regardless of their department and position, were allowed to submit their project plans.

(This is my golden opportunity! I’m only a temporary employee, so I might stand a chance to work on an advertising project from its planning stage…!)

My heart was racing and overflowing with the desire to give it a shot.

Female Employee 1: Does this mean we get to meet the members of exe Creed if we’re chosen!?

Female Employee 2: Count me in!

Mori: A global scale project featuring exe Creed? This is amazing. We mustn't let this opportunity slip away.

A roaring flame of passion burned inside me.

(... Let’s do this. I’m going to come up with a project plan, and seize this opportunity!)

[tact-and-impulse]

Three Strands Part I

@shinkaneweek, thank you for the prompts! This is kind of inspired by a dream I had a long time ago, plus I don't think I've ever done this trope. Mild allusions to Psycho Pass: Providence, but nothing too spoilery, at least in this installment! On FF.net and AO3

A cord of three strands is not easily broken. - Ecclesiastes 4:12

part 1: perspective

To be fair, he had asked for this.

The hotel’s upscale interior reflected the owner’s taste for finery. Ornate chandeliers, polished mahogany tables, delicate porcelain dishes. Begrudgingly, Kougami had to admit the coffee was good. Next to him, Akane had finished her own cup. He was used to her Holo disguise now, her lighter and longer hair, though he still had to move carefully, to adjust for the slimmer physique of his own.

Across from them, the planner opened a book of color swatches, already blurring into a gradient. “Now, I will say that most women want to be a June bride, but do you have a preference?”

“Autumn is fine.” Akane said. “I have no issue with waiting.”

“And you, sir?”

Kougami tried not to jolt. “Sooner rather than later.”

“Eager, aren’t we? I’ll put you for October then. How lovely! A wedding among the maple trees.” Then, the conversation veered towards budget and packages, leaving Kougami to reflect on how exactly this situation had unfolded.

***

To him, the mission was clear; the hotel had to be investigated. On the surface, Yume appeared to be a quaintly run business, but it had once been run by a criminal now in custody and the building had changed hands quickly. Too quickly. The new proprietress was Yanase Juria, a confident woman who appeared younger than her forty years. And despite her glamorous image in surveillance footage, reports of illegal immigrant labor were deftly buried in her file. And under her direction, the newly branded logo was a three-tailed fox.

So, Foreign Affairs had to be involved, and they met with Public Safety to negotiate jurisdiction. Unit One was already in the meeting room, Akane the newest addition. It might have been a pleasant afternoon, except for the arrival of the new chief. The man was deft and calculating, steering the discussion in Public Safety’s favor.

“And on that matter, we need to decide who will be going undercover.” Homura smoothly said. “Since this is a collaboration between our departments, it would only be appropriate to have a representative from each. Statutory Enforcer Tsunemori will be ours.”

Hanashiro nodded. “Of course. As for our end-”

Time slowed. There were a number of Foreign Affairs employees, experienced with undercover jobs. He didn’t know whose name Hanashiro was going to say, who she was going to pair with Akane. But he interrupted anyway.

“I’ll do it.”

All heads had swiveled towards him, a mural of shock and surprise. It was obvious what they were thinking: really? He could have been blistered by Gino’s appalled aura, radiating from the next chair over, and Sugo’s discomfort was marked by a cough. In his peripheral vision, Homura was like a statue.

Shimotsuki could no longer suppress herself. “Haven’t you already created enough trouble for her? And have you ever worked undercover before?”

“Someone wise told me to expand my expertise. Why not this opportunity?” And that was true. Also, he didn’t trust anyone else with her safety.

Then, Akane spoke up, her gaze warm. “I don’t mind. I’d be happy to work with you again, Kougami-san.”

“Likewise.” He muttered and promptly forgot the rest of the meeting. Foreign Affairs would reconvene at headquarters, and he was bound to get an earful but he didn’t care.

Afterwards, he found her by a vending machine, grabbing a bottle of flavored water. He punched the buttons for his own drink. “I guess we’ll have to call often, make our cover.”

“Well, it helps that we know each other.” She wryly pointed out. “The best ones have a core of truth.”

“So…what are we?” Damn, that came out wrong.

Akane raised her eyebrows. “What would you like us to be?”

An answer came to mind, but he suppressed the thought. “We’ll have to fit in with the clientele, while keeping our story believable. A business trip may not buy us enough time.”

She opened her wrist device, searching through photos of the hotel. “They host a number of events. Graduations, retirement parties, weddings…”

As casually as he could muster, he said. “A wedding would give us an excuse, even reserve rooms.”

She looked at him, her lips curving upwards in agreement. “Yes, it would.”

“If we’re engaged, you’ll need a ring.”

“Oh.” She glanced down, extending her left fingers. “Right. I didn’t think about that.”

He took her hand, turning it over in his own. “Let’s find you something suitable.”

Her skin was soft, her pulse a quick rhythm. “I can always borrow from Shion-”

“No. It should be yours.” Before he could stop himself, his thumb ran over that space. A ruby for her name, set in a thin band…

The sound of approaching footsteps brought reality back, and they pulled away from each other.

“We can talk more later.” Her cheeks were pink.

“Sure. I’ll call you tonight.” And he walked off, scratching the back of his head, where it felt intensely warm. Posing as a couple getting married…wherever he was, Saiga-sensei was surely cackling.

***

They toured the reception halls first, while the planner dug for details about their backgrounds. Kougami gave brief responses about their jobs – he was freelance, she was in the Ministry of Health. They’d met at work. The planner wasn’t satisfied, asking how long they’d been together.

Akane easily replied. “Eight years. But we’ve been on and off until recently.”

He flashed a sharp look at that, but she ducked her head. Still, her hand entwined with his, and he immediately noticed the cool silver of her fake engagement ring. It really did look nice, better than he expected, and he squeezed tight.

“And now, I’m not letting her go.” He sensed her eyes now, but he refused to give in.

They walked on, and the flashy taste extended to each offering; they made noncommittal comments, it didn’t matter anyway. However, the planner seemed to sense their lack of enthusiasm, beckoning them to a Japanese style garden.

It was actually outdoors; the rocks and shrubs were real to the touch. Smooth ceramic tiles outlined a path over the gravel, to a rectangular patio framed by elegant maple and pine trees. A fountain burbled, trickling water through three stony pools. This side faced the mountains, and at dusk, the sun would burn in the distance. There was no pretense here.

“It’s beautiful.” Akane breathed, and she stepped towards the middle of the walkway. She gave a whirl, her skirt aloft for an instant, and asked. “Don’t you agree?”

He stared at her smile, and his traitorous imagination clothed her in a white kimono, a white gown, a veil unable to hide a radiant expression just for him. “Yeah. Beautiful.” And it didn’t feel like lying at all.

[fenrislorsrai]

How to Get a 401(k) Match for Your Student Loan Payments

Wall Street journal article

Thanks to a provision in the Secure 2.0 Act, legislation aimed at improving retirement benefits nationwide, in 2024 employers will be able to start counting student loan payments as qualifying contributions toward retirement matching programs.

That means if your employer offers to match your 401(k) contributions, you could get that matched money without ever depositing funds in your retirement account. Instead, your monthly student loan payments would count as your “contribution.” 

The benefit could be especially significant for recent graduates, who often have moderate incomes ($58,000 to start, on average) and high levels of debt (an average of $33,000 for federal borrowers aged 25 to 35). 

“A huge portion of their paychecks go toward paying skyrocketing rent, mortgage payments and other living expenses,” says Joelle Spear, a certified financial planner with Canby Financial Advisors in Framingham, Mass. “Adding monthly debt payments to this mix can leave them with very little extra to save for their retirement.”

For struggling borrowers whose employers opt to offer these new matching benefits, it “will make a difference,” she says. Here’s what you need to know. 

How student loan-retirement matching programs work

In a typical retirement matching program, an employer opts to match some or all of the money employees save in 401(k)s or similar retirement accounts, up to a certain percentage. 

For a simple example, if you contribute 5% of your annual salary into a 401(k), your employer may throw in 5% as well. Under the new law, if you are paying 5% of your salary toward student loans—and potentially none toward retirement—your employer can still opt to put that 5% in your 401(k). If you make $70,000 a year, that could amount to up to $3,500 contributed to your account annually. 

-

-

-

If your employer does offer this benefit, there are rules. First, you’ll have to have an eligible retirement account—either a 401(k), 403(b), 457(b) or Simple plan—and make payments on a “qualifying education loan.” This means a loan used to pay for educational expenses for you, your spouse or a dependent.

You’ll also need to “self-certify” that you made the payments, according to the Secure Act, but the exact process for doing that isn’t clear yet. It will also likely vary by employer. “My guess is every employer is going to want to have proof in one way or another,” Vipond says.

Finally, keep in mind that your contributions cannot exceed annual retirement contribution limits set by the IRS.

[liferockingitout]

Theres something about holding the useless writings of a dead person

Not talking about sentiment cards or reminders someone wrote to themselves. I'm talking it's totally useless, there is no sentimental value to this small piece of paper in my hands. And yet, it is one of the last things written by a person I knew, a person who was loved, a person who is no longer among us.

Let me tell you about flea markets.

This isn't going to be about old diaries or journals or photo albums. This isn't going to be about recipe cards or family cookbooks. This isn't going to be about memo books, day planners, or to-do lists used as a bookmark.

In a flea market, the spaces you browse are called booths. Each booth is rented to a vendor-someone who comes in, dumps junk or stuff or old things into the booth, and leaves. The flea market sells the stuff in their booth for them, the store takes a cut (usually between 8-15% of the price not including sales tax) and the vendor takes home a check at the end of the month of the sales they had.

Most flea markets require the use of tags-with a vendor number, a price, and sometimes a booth location (not always, but some vendors are nice enough to include their booth location info to make returning misplaced stuff easier). Some vendors just use a price gun that spits out stickers and they slap those on their stuff.

Some vendors hand write their tags. And the tags are rarely completely and totally uniform. Some cut out, by hand, chunks of paper that they decorate in distinct ways so that their tags cannot be confused with anyone else's (it's a common thing, I've found in my years working in a flea market, for people to have similar hand writing styles so sometimes if a vendor forgot to write their number on the tag the employees get confused on who the item belongs to). Others use pre-made tags, of some variety, and just get very good at providing all information needed for the employee to complete the sale.

The nature of the flea market is that your vendors tend to skew older. The one I work in has exactly 1 vendor, out of 150+ who is under the age of 30. There's 5 who are in their 30s. Maybe a further 5 in their 40s. The other hundred-and-change who sell through our store are in their 50s or older. A fair chunk are in their 70s and 80s.

What I'm saying is, vendors die (and not always of "natural causes" like old age and not always in ways that you can "see coming" like cancer). We, the store, usually don't find out for a few days, sometimes weeks, after. Which is completely understandable-the family, or whoever is left behind by the loss, has more important shit to worry about than telling a flea market that sells junk that they're never going to see the face of someone they only might have known in passing again. But when we find out, we do our best to make things easy for the family or whoever is responsible for the things left behind with us.

When the month ends, we help them find the booth. We offer to help them pack up the items left in it (they usually refuse, I understand why-the sentimental impact of handling even junk that was also touched and handled by someone you cared about can be difficult and for the people who did not have a good relationship or relationship at all with the vendor just want to get it over with and with as little interference as possible). We get their sales added up and the check made for them to take on behalf of the vendor's estate (which gets settle via The State and any will left behind). We close the vendor's account in our sales system. It's mostly treated the exact same way as when a vendor decides to leave the store for any other reason, except the person packing up the stuff/junk/old shit *isn't* the original person who became a vendor.

And then, you're probably thinking, that's that-right?

Not quite.

I explained the tags before. My store keeps the tags taken off of sold items during the month and keeps them for some vendors to take with their checks at the end of the month (some people like to keep a detailed inventory of their stuff, don't ask me why I don't get it) so they can double check their sales. In my years working at a flea market, not once has the family/responsible-for-the-estate parties left behind ever taken the tags kept for a deceased vendor.

So what happens to the tags of a deceased vendor, after their stuff is taken out of the store and their vendor account is closed and the check is sent off? What happens to the useless writings of dead people you were acquainted with? What happens to the small pieces of paper that contain the scribbles of a person who is no longer alive, a person you knew? What happens to the last writings of a person you said "hi" to on a near weekly basis, you recognized the face of, and heard in passing chats about their days or weeks or family or friends?

Well, they get thrown in the trash.

But there's a moment. It's weird, it happens every time a vendor leaves the store (not just when they die, but when any vendor leaves the store), and it's never not a little mentally startling.

The nature of a flea market is that people touch stuff. They pick it up, they handle it, they inspect it, and sometimes people decide they want the stuff they've picked up and handled and touched and inspected. They carry it in their hands, under the arms, in a basket, in a cart around the store for a while. And, often, they bring it to the register and buy it. Rarely, people will change their mind about the stuff they picked up and touched and handled and-get this-they'll set it back down. But not always back in the booth they got it from.

It's a daily occurrence in the flea market that a vendor who is cleaning up their booth (because it's been torn apart by people picking stuff up and handling it and touching it) will find an item that does not belong to them and bring it back to the front. On the daily, first thing in the morning when I get to work, I'm returning misplaced items to the booths they belong in.

And, when a vendor leaves, it's almost 100% certain that they are not leaving with the full total of the items that actually belong to them. Because somewhere along the line during business hours, someone picked something up and carried it around and changed their mind and set that something down in a place it didn't belong. There is an ownerless item floating around in the store now. It could take a few days, a few weeks, rarely a few months. Once, it took 3 years for an item that belonged to a former vendor to show up at the front desk to be purchased by someone who had no clue that the item they're purchasing doesn't have a proper vendor any more.

Store policy is to sell it under the store's own vendor information (because the vendor's information is no longer active in the sales system) then contact the vendor later about their $5 we now owe them. Or, in the case of a deceased vendor, their family (if we even have that contact information, again I understand why people don't give that out to flea markets).

But, once again, what happens with the tag?

Well, it gets thrown in the trash.

But there's a moment. It's weird when it happens.

You realize, as you're holding it in your hand or between your fingers, that you will never see this handwriting again. You realize, in a strange moment of emotional vertigo, that you're holding the writing of a dead person. This ink was jotted down by someone who was loved or hated, someone who was known, someone who valued things you'll never know the meaning of. This scrap of paper was touched by someone you knew the face of. This meaningless, sentimental-less, now useless scrap was handled by someone you might have liked or hated or didn't care about or really think about at all. It doesn't matter. What matters is that once it leaves your hand, you'll never see it again. No one will. It'll be gone forever-just like the person who wrote it.

Then you let it go in the trash, with the rest of the other useless tags that other-living-vendors didn't want. You destroy it along with the other unsentimental and completely pointless writings of other, still living, people.

I dunno what my point is with this post. I had that moment again yesterday, I'll probably have it again today. And for the next few weeks, I'll keep having it every work day because another vendor just passed away and her booth is being cleaned out. I just wanted to share that moments like this happen.

I suppose, if you've lost someone you've loved, moments like this also happen in the aftermath. You go to throw out some old mail and you realize as you do it that there's a card in there written by a relative or friend who wished you happy birthday or a happy holiday of some kind or marked an achievement of yours. Maybe you're tossing out some trash and you find an old to-do list.

I dunno. It's just a moment you encounter sometimes. It reminds you that there was a person, of some kind, that used to be there. There's a person shaped hole in the world, a loss of some in-quantifiable kind, a strange absence that can't be identified nor articulated well.

It guess it's a reminder. People in a flea market are part of that forgettable-by-history mass of humanity, the peasants and the peons and faceless bodies that get forgotten because no one wrote down a name. I suppose a similarity would be: in the very meme-able and famous cuniform tablet that complains about Ea-Nasir's copper, Nanni (the author, the complaining customer) mentions his servant who picked up the copper. I don't believe this servant was ever named. We know nothing about this servant's family, if they had one at all nor their friends, if they had any at all. We just know they were there. Did Ea-Nasir have servants? Did he have apprentices who worked under him? Did he have family? Friends? Did Nanni have friends and family? Those people who we don't know if they existed to these known names and existences, that's what I'm talking about. That's us.

And sometimes, the last thing you wrote will be thrown in the trash. But...it'll be known. There's a moment that happens, it's weird, where the last thing to have left your hands will be thrown away or destroyed. That moment will be forgotten eventually. Either because the person who experienced it will die, or because they forgot years later, or it simply wasn't notable enough to be remembered in the first place.

But it happened. It happens.

I dunno what my point is, exactly. I guess what I mean to say is that the writing is irrelevant. What the tag says doesn't matter. What matters is that the moment happens, that the last tag gets thrown away. It's a note about the existence of the person and it might be forgotten and lost to history along with the rest of a bulk of humanity's existence. But it happened-that happened. It did.

And that has meaning. I don't know exactly what meaning, but it's there. It has weight, and it has weight because it happened-a year ago, a day ago, just now, a thousand years ago, ten thousand years ago. It has weight because it keeps happening-happens now, happens tomorrow, a year, a hundred years from now. It's a shared human experience, I think, to handle something that belongs to a dead person that was utterly meaningless but now has something about it that weighs on you because it belongs to someone who isn't there any more.

I dunno. I'm rambling now.

Anyway. It's a moment, it's weird. Randy and Red-people who's handwriting I've seen the last meaningless bits of. Dee, someone who's handwriting I will soon see the last meaningless bits of. These are people I liked, who's faces I still remember and voices I only half remember for one of and only barely knew for another and still think I'm going to hear for the last. People I learned about second-hand, from people who did know them. People I spoke with in passing, people I said "hi" to and "bye, see you next time" but there was no next time.

People that will be forgotten by history, just like me. Just like you. But that doesn't mean we are meaningless. We happened, and the fact that we happened has meaning.

Anyway. I guess that's all I wanted to say. It's a weird moment, when it happens, and I wanted to talk about it.

[konohamaru-sensei]

Nisi I really cannot decide, I will leave this to you but tetsuro x sayuri with either

"I'm chemically drawn closer to you"

Or

"I need you so much closer" (maybe they are ...very similar I'm sorry for that) <3 xoxo

FINALLY FINISHED THIS OH MY GOD. Its not very good. But ... you know!

This is an OC story about Ku/roo please do not read if you hate ocs. Thanks!

A gruesome two weeks of meetings, conferences, interviews, discussions and more meetings. Tetsuro felt drained after all the back and forth his new job entailed. He had barely started working at the National Volleyball Association and he was already expected to do everything. He did them all, of course, because he was good at what he did, but man did they drain him.

That he had had the time to go home and sleep was a miracle, though he really felt like he spent more time in and out of commuter trains than actually in his apartment. Living off cup ramen and 7/11 food for a while might have been fun when he was a student, but he expected to have it better once the full time jobs rolled around, and so far it really wasn’t. He couldn’t even bear to think of how bad the situation would be once the olympics rolled around.

He could have lived with this lifestyle though. It bothered him a little, the back and forth, the stress, the lack of sleep, but it would have been alright to him, if it didn’t also mean that he was entirely unable to see his girlfriend. Texting yes, even the occasional phone call was possible, but he was too busy to even stop by her apartment and she had her own work as well. In the last month they had barely met one another face to face and he was slated to go on a trip abroad soon as well.

Meanwhile Sayuri was also working on the beginnings of her own career. She’d snagged a job at a little sports magazine and covered the football section specifically to women’s leagues and while her goal was to eventually be a reporter for football regardless of player gender, it was at least a start. With how much she was on the phone, her laptop and managing her planner, Tetsuro barely fit in himself. 

Recently, when they had talked to each other, her reply to his question about when they could call next had been a shocking “I’d have to check my planner.” His mouth ran dry. They were leading a relationship on schedule now. 

And while he liked his job and would never try to take Sayuri’s career away from her, he missed hanging out and their time apart made him moody. He dared not tell her, because he didn’t want to show himself as clingy as he really was. But something needed to change, because at this rate they’d just drift apart.

I was working a press conference with the coach of the volleyball national team, the day the last straw broke. It had been two weeks since he’d so much as seen Sayuri and almost equally as long since they had spoken on the phone. Every encounter was subsequently cancelled and pushed to another day with an apologetic “Let's reschedule”. Tetsuroo was also guilty of this.

He’d come early, being on the front lines of preparations as any young employee ought to be. Slaving away to keep his seniors happy he only noticed that he had a phone message an hour later. His stomach turned when he pulled the phone from his pocket. “I have to go for an interview tomorrow,” Sayuri wrote apologetically. “I can’t stay over.” She didn’t even ask to reschedule which showed him how badly she felt.

What was he supposed to say? That she shouldn’t go? That he’d looked forward to seeing her tomorrow as much, he’d even made efforts to wash his sheets and towels? It would be selfish to say that. So he gritted his teeth and texted back: “Understood.” It was a little dry and he knew it wasn’t the nicest way to reply, but right now he was annoyed anyway.

Tetsuro decided that he would concentrate on work. If his relationship was going to go down the drain at least he’d have a job he liked. Not that he wanted to think about that right now, because really the last thing he wanted was to give Sayuri up. He was getting frustrated with losing points, but that didn’t mean the match was over.

Apart from a moment in which literally one of the lightbulbs in the stage lighting broke, the press conference went down without any major issues. The national team was preparing for a row of friendly matches ahead of the Asian Games and there was a lot to discuss about the starting lineup. There were more talented volleyball players in Japan than one would think with its average body height so choosing a lineup for such important matches always came with a lot of questions.

The end was drawing near and Tetsuroo was sitting on one of the stools at the edge of the stage. He was supposed to watch closely so he could completely lead these events in the future. Despite his short time working there  they had already decided that he’d be a leading figure for the association going forward. He played with the phone in his pocket and looked at his feet.

Sayuri hadn’t messaged him after he’d replied. Was she mad? He had been a little rude to her, though he had hoped it was clear that it was just his own frustrations with their situation. He gritted his teeth. He’d been able to put his worries for their relationship aside while he was busy, but now, with his mind wondering, there they were again.

Something in the audience caught his eye. A long black ponytail snailing itself around a group of reporters. His heart skipped a beat and he forced himself to blink, but when he looked again the hair was gone. Incredible. Now he already saw images of Sayuri running around. It was really time that he saw her again.

He shook his head and returned his gaze to his feet for a moment. He reminded himself that he was ready to give his all for this job and that though he’d been asked to pay attention, his thoughts were constantly drifting away. From now on he would focus on what was in front of him. He could worry about Sayuri later.

Looking up once more his heart stopped for another second, but this time it took a moment for it to start beating again. If Tetsuro was still just seeing images, then the images looked very real. At the back, behind the usual sport journalists, was Sayuri, leaning with her back against the wall. She noticed that he was staring at her, so she gave him a little wave.

He could feel his chest lighten and probably his face too. He felt so happy to see her, right there in person, that he didn’t even waste a moment to wonder why she was even here or how she had gotten into this closed off event. She had worked in a completely different part of the city and must have taken about an hour to get to him, but she had. He felt so happy that he had to pull himself together completely not to abandon his post.

Agonising 15 mins creeped by in which he watched Sayuri scroll her phone idly on the other side of the room. He tried to keep his hands still, but felt too excited to calm himself. Then, finally, the coach got up and bowed in thanks, leaving the stage to mark the end of the press conference. He held himself back for a little more to make sure he wasn’t just running away from his superiors.

It was an older colleague that finally released him from his obligations with a questioning “Isn’t that your girlfriend over there?” and then, in reply to Tetsuroos nodding, said “Do you not want to talk to her?”

He didn’t ask for permission a second time, instead he dropped the chair he had been holding and snailed his way through the journalists that were still packing up their electronics to head back to whatever tv stations they had been sent from. Sayuri was still at the same place she had been at since she had entered

“Oh, hi, I sneaked i-” she started saying once she noticed that he was approaching, but he cut her off immediately by pulling her into a kiss. Completely caught off guard by this Sayuri did not even resit, though she really wasn’t a big fan of public display of affection. Under usual circumstances he would also never do anything like this, but it had been too long since he’d been able to.

“What was that?” Sayuri, red in her face, said as soon as he gave her her lips to speak back. “People are staring.”

He wanted to apologise. The word was definitely on his lips, but that was not what he heard himself say when he opened his mouth.

“Move in with me.”

Sayuri looked at him as shocked as he felt. What was he saying? But then again, the more Tetsuro thought about it the more right it felt. She blinked. “What … why?” 

“I miss you constantly. And not only in the literal sense that we keep missing each other, but also in the emotional way.” All the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind came rushing out. “And I understand your career is important and I have mine, I do not want to interfere with that, but I want to see you, even if its just for five minutes every night or every morning.” The more he thought about it the more sense it made. “Just - you know, let’s live together.”

For a moment, she seemed speechless. His heart was hammering against his chest. Somewhere over his shoulder someone was giggling and whispering “Thats so sweet”, which embarrassed him. But he definitely wasn’t going to take it back. 

Then, an eternity later. “That is reasonable. I guess it would be practical. We would have more ti-” 

“So that is a yes?” Tetsuro decided to cut her endless analysing short before he got too nervous.

Her deep blush told him all he needed to hear. Ignoring her stammering he pulled her into a kiss again, though this time she pushed him away much quicker than before. “Stop it,” she hissed, now even redder in the face.

In the future they would at least have a few moments each day and most of the nights with each other. Tetsuro let out a deep sigh of relief. No more text messages of rescheduling and cancellations. Fumbling absentmindedly for the phone in his pocket reminded him of how Sayuri had first cancelled on him and then shown up out of the blue.

“Wait, how did you even get in here?” He asked confused.

Sayuri threw one of her hair out of her face. “I tried to explain that when you came over and you…. interrupted me..” She meant when he kissed her. “... I used my card from the magazine to get in, though I am not authorised to be part of the press conference but I was lucky nobody checked. As long as my boss doesn't find out….” 

So she was risking her job to come see him? She could be so oddly sweet sometimes. “And why did you come over?” “Ah, you know..” she mumbled a little. “We hadn’t seen each other in a while and I’m busy tomorrow…” He grinned. “Ohh, so you missed me.”

“Shut up.”

“Well soon you wont have to anymore. You can see my wonderful face every morning.”

“I told you to shut up.” 

“Right right,” he slung an arm around her shoulders and turned her around.