#so they are being welcomed by a little promo

[starstcff-z]

If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad.     independent multimuse, featuring muses from literature, sci-fi, marvel and other sources.    loved by odette.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

It Started With A... || CarLandOscar

Summary: Whoever thought love was limited to one person was an idiot. Love had no limits and you knew that better than most when a rookie found himself carving out a third of your heart. Warnings: established relationships, fluff, angst, pining. WC: 7.5k

It started with a smile. It was stiff and polite and made you pity the rookie who was being introduced to everyone so fast he would surely forget their names. 

“It took me a few months, but you’ll figure out who is who,” you encouraged him as the welcome committee went back to work in the factory and Oscar looked for guidance on where he was meant to go next. 

“I hope so. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you in the PR team?”

You looked down at your black skirt and white blouse and thought you probably did look like someone from PR or legal. “Contrary to belief, I am actually what people would call a PR nightmare,” you said as you held your hand out. “Y/N Y/L/N, Lando’s girlfriend.”

“It's nice to meet you. I suppose I’ll see you around here a lot then.”

You smiled ruefully and shook your head. “I’m studying at Royal Holloway but we wanted to be here for your first day so we stopped by.”

You looked around for Lando and found him returning from the cafeteria with a takeaway coffee cup in his hand. “I wondered where you went,” you teased as you happily accepted the hot drink and the kiss he placed on your cheek. 

“Figured you needed this, love. I kept you up pretty late for a school night.” Lando nudged Oscar and winked. 

The Australian’s ears turned pink and you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's humour. “He was steaming until some ridiculous hour this morning. You’ll probably find him crashed out on a couch somewhere this afternoon while I will be struggling through lab tech.”

“You’re the smartest person I know, I don’t think you even need to go to class.” Lando tipped your chin back, giving you a deep kiss without care that his new teammate was watching the interaction. “We should go, love, don’t want to make you late again. You want to come for a ride too?”

“Shouldn’t I go inside?” Oscar asked as he looked to the double doors that led into the employee only section.

“They want us to do a few icebreaker promo vids to get to know each other so you’ll just be waiting around for me to get back anyway.”

“You should probably get used to that, he likes to keep people waiting,” you joked. 

“When have I ever kept you waiting?”

“I’m still waiting for a win.”

Lando chuckled and playfully swatted your ass. “I’m working on that. Hard.”

You cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb over his pouting bottom lip. “I know you are, baby, and it’s gonna come.”

Oscar cleared his throat and jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “I can just go wait inside.”

“Nah, come on,” Lando said as he grabbed his keys from his pockets. “You should see where her classes are in case there's an emergency.”

You frowned in confusion. “An emergency?”

“Yeah, like if I’m running late.” Lando draped an arm over your shoulder and led the way to the handful of reserved parking spots near the front door. “It’s only 15 minutes down the road.”

Lando opened the passenger door to his Range Rover and you glanced at Oscar who just smiled and opened the back door. “I’m okay back here,” he said as he climbed in. You settled into your usual seat but adjusted it to give Oscar’s longer legs some extra room. 

The drive took a little longer with the tail end of rush hour traffic but it seemed to pass quickly with Lando and Oscar making small talk. You could almost feel Lando’s excitement vibrating off him when he spoke about the upcoming season while Oscar was far more reserved. You quickly understood that he was merely the quiet type, not that he wasn’t excited. 

“You should come over for dinner,” Lando said, one hand resting on your thigh while the other steered. “I’m heading back to Monaco this afternoon but I’ll be back for the weekend.”

He squeezed your leg when he caught your eyes dropping down at the reminder. “It’s only a few days, love.”

“I know, doesn’t stop me from missing you.”

Oscar tried to turn his attention to the scenery out the window, feeling intrusive in the intimate moment, but Lando caught his eyes as they glanced over you. “Oscar could keep you company. Maybe you could show him around Surrey?”

Oscar’s eyes widened as if he had been caught red handed and his cheeks flamed again. “I, uh, sure, I mean, you’re probably busy studying though.”

“I can make time. I actually get through it a lot quicker without this distraction in the house. Who would have thought?”

Lando gasped, “Me, a distraction?”

“Mhmm, you always need attention, baby. But that’s okay, I still love you.”

“Good to know.” Lando dropped a lopsided grin and winked before pulling up to the front of the Science Block. “I love you too, and don’t forget Carlos is picking you up this afternoon.” 

You leaned across the gearbox and kissed Lando farewell before turning to Oscar. “It was really lovely to meet you.”

“You too. Should I get your phone number?”

“Asking for my girlfriend’s number in front of me,” Lando scoffed. “Mate, that’s fucking rude.”

You slapped Lando’s arm and he burst out laughing. “You should have seen your face. Classic.”

You smiled apologetically to the Aussie. “I’ll put it in your phone,” you offered as you held out your hand for the device. You quickly entered the number and hit the green icon until your phone rang in your pocket before taking a selfie and adding it to the contact. “There, now you’ll remember who the name belongs to.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, taking the phone back. “I would’ve just put ‘Lando’s Missus’.”

“I like that, you can still update it,” Lando chuckled. “It’s a good title.”

“One I’m still waiting for,” you said as you waved your empty ring finger. The movement drew your attention to the watch on your wrist and you swore as you saw class was about to begin. “Bye, baby, have a safe flight.”

You bundled up your bag but when you reached for the door it was already opening and you gave Oscar a quick hug as you stepped out. “Bye, Osc.”

Half the students had disappeared into the halls and you speed walked up to the heritage building where you would spend the first half of your day.

Lando watched you walk away while Oscar took the front seat. “You’ve done something right,” he commented as he put the SUV in reverse, “it took me two weeks to get a nickname.”

A dark blue Ferrari was surrounded by dozens of students when you left your last class and you cradled your textbooks tighter, prepared to bustle your way in. Carlos had been keeping an eye out and was quick to spot you leaving the building. He moved assertively through the crowd and met you at the edge of the circle so he could use his body to shield you. 

“Nice and inconspicuous,” you teased him when you were safely deposited into the passenger seat.

“Sorry, hermosa, the flight was delayed. I didn’t have time to go home and switch cars.” He drove slowly as the last of the fans moved aside and tried to peer through the tinted glass. “How was school?”

“I didn’t fall asleep, so there’s that,” you said with a yawn and felt Carlos’ hand close around yours as you closed your eyes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Carlos lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles before resting them on his lap. “Lando said you made a new friend.”

You smiled and opened your eyes to see Carlos glancing across the car as he sped along the highway home. “You two are the worst gossips. Oscar’s nice. I think they will get along well as teammates.”

“Better than me?”

“No one could beat you and Lando as teammates, baby, that was pure magic.” You rubbed soothingly along his thigh to reassure him. “I don’t know if he will get more vocal as he gets comfortable but I get the feeling Oscar is just a quiet person. He’s very different from Lando, and you and Daniel, which could be a good thing.”

Carlos chuckled to himself. “It sounds like you have spent a lot of time thinking about him.”

“There may have been moments,” you admitted. “But there was someone I thought about a lot more.”

A wicked grin grew and Carlos’s hand drew yours higher up his leg as he turned onto the narrow lane that led to the private property Lando had bought. Set halfway between the McLaren factory and your university, it was the idyllic spot to live and Carlos could fly in from the Ferrari HQ in Maranello whenever he had free time, or, when Lando didn’t want to leave you on your own. 

“And who exactly did you think about?” Carlos asked as the front gates opened. “Was he handsome?”

“Very, very handsome, with dark hair and a sexy accent. And he’s so fucking fit, I could break my teeth on his abs,” you hummed happily as the car pulled into one of the few spaces left in the large garage. “I could go on and on about him. Charles is just-”

“Cha-“ Carlos’ foot fell heavy on the brake and the car jutted to a sharp stop. “Charles!”

Your giggle filled the empty car as Carlos ran around the front and opened your door. The world tipped over as he grabbed you out of the seat and tossed you over his shoulder, swatting your ass as he marched you into the house. 

“I’m sorry, I was joking,” you spluttered between laughing and gasping as he spanked you again. “I was thinking about you, doing something surprisingly similar to this actually, just less clothes.”

The world spun again as he tossed you on the bed and caged you beneath his body, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “You hurt my feelings, mi amor.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and combed a hand through his thick dark hair that had grown in the week he had been gone. “Then let me make it better.”  

It started with a text, asking if you had any recommendations for the local takeaways. It was Oscar’s cheat day and you were feeling like you could use a little pick me up of greasy food so you offered to show him your favourite spot. Carlos had been called away a day earlier than planned so you had the whole house to yourself and its grand size always seemed scary on your own. 

The buzzer from the gates sounded and you hit the remote button to open it after, swearing as you realised you lost track of time. Open textbooks covered the kitchen table and highlighters were strewn amongst them as you tried to colour code the notes you had made on post-its. It was a mess, but it was too late to clean up as Oscar knocked on the front door.

“I promise I didn’t forget you were coming, I just thought I had time to finish my homework first,” you said as you opened the door and waved him in. You looked down at the grey sweatpants that came from Carlos’ drawer and the hoodie that came from Lando’s, not quite what you had planned to wear into town. “Obviously, I thought wrong. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just get changed real quick.”

“You don’t have to get dressed up,” he said as he took his shoes off and closed the door behind him. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You smiled at the sincerity and gave him a quick hug, inhaling the musky cologne that clung to his shirt. “You’re sweet, Osc, but you’re a rookie and it shows.”

He frowned as you pulled away and started to head to the stairs for the second floor where the bedrooms were. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You paused at the bottom step and looked over your shoulder. “You’ll see in an hour.”

The chicken shop had been almost empty when you entered before the dinner rush but there was a crowd growing outside. You were used to having cameras pointed your way after publicly dating Lando for over two years, but Oscar had only shot to fame in the last month when his infamous tweet aired on Drive to Survive. He hadn’t been known outside of the smaller F2 circle but now he was a household name. 

“I see what you mean,” he said as he did his best to ignore the people knocking on the glass. 

“You get used to it, eventually.” You popped a hot chip in your mouth and chewed it while you watched him, a small frown tugging his brows together. “The trick is deciding early on what your position is.”

“What position?”

“With the fans, the paparazzi, all of it.” You glanced at the window and waved. “When we started dating, Lando tried to protect me from them and hide our relationship but they were like sharks after blood. We found we had more privacy if we acknowledged them, then they just moved on.”

You didn’t try hiding with Carlos so no one ever dug too deep into it. Everyone just assumed you were close friends given how close Lando and him were too. It was easier for everyone to believe you were just friends.

Oscar turned to the glass window and forced a smile before waving to the children. Cameras flashed as the fans got the face shots they wanted and then they dispersed back about their day, with the exception of a few stragglers. “Huh. Are you sure you’re not in PR?”

“I’m sure,” you said with a smirk. You weren’t joking when you said you were a PR nightmare - if the world found out about the unorthodox relationship between you, Lando and Carlos it would be. “I have just been through it all before so I can be your personal guide.”

“Thank you.”

You pushed the leftover plate of fries his way knowing he was probably like every other driver who had the ability to consume three times their weight in carbs on a cheat day. “You can thank me with another dinner date, it beats going cross-eyed studying.”

“I’m not sure your boyfriend would appreciate that,” he said as he dragged the plate of fries closer and finished the last of them.

“Lando appreciated what makes me happy, and he’s secure enough to trust what we have isn’t going anywhere.” 

The idea was foreign to him and you could see the doubt he had about it, but he settled instead for a polite, “That must be nice.”

“Your PR team is going to love you,” you chuckled as you grabbed your wallet to pay. “A driver who actually keeps his thoughts to himself, that’s a rarity.”

Oscar’s long legs quickly overtook you and he had some cash out ready. “I invited you,” he said with a stern look that caught you by surprise. “I’m paying.”

Raising your hands in defeat, you smirked and slipped your wallet back into your handbag. “Yes, sir.”

You watched his eyes linger on your lips before he shook his head of the wayward thought and led the way out of the store. “So what do you usually do when Lando is in Monaco?”

“Carlos usually comes and keeps me company, or I just study. Not exactly the epitome of excitement but it’s my last year and then I’ll go to Monaco too.”

Oscar quietly accepted the knowledge without questioning it, though you could see them swirling in his eyes. He wanted to know about Carlos but he was too polite to ask, or maybe he knew it wasn’t something you could answer. “Well, you have my number so if you get sick of studying you can always call me.”

"You can call me too, Osc.”

Term break arrived with as much turbulence as the plane you took to Austria. On one hand you were excited to be able to travel to a few races but on the other you nervously awaited two assessment results and continuously checked your phone for updates until Carlos locked it in the hotel safe. “You can get it back when you promise to relax.” 

“I won’t relax until I know what I got,” you argued but between him and Lando they distracted you well enough, for a while at least.

“We need to get going,” Lando reluctantly said as he climbed out of bed and tried to restore some control over his mussed hair. “You can have your phone back, but just so we can contact you, not so that you can worry about your damn exams.”

Carlos laughed as he unlocked the safe that also had your passports and valuables stored. “I’m sure she will listen to you,” he said as he handed the phone over and saw the unread text messages from Oscar light up the screen. “Though maybe she won’t have time to check her emails now.”

The two managed to shower in a matter of seconds before they reappeared and sorted through the pile of clothes on the floor, tossing red one way and papaya the other. 

“Is Oscar on his way?” Lando asked when he was dressed and ready to go to the track. 

“He’s already there,” you replied, barely looking up from the messages that were coming in rapidfire succession except to kiss Lando goodbye. “And he said you’re going to be late again if you don’t hurry up.”

“I was on time yesterday,” Lando grumbled, pulling his shoes on as he hopped to the door. “I just looked late because I was the last to arrive.”

“Better than coming too soon,” Carlos joked as he leant down to give you a kiss too. “See you later, mi amor.”

You arrived at the track just before the driver’s parade began, when everyone was too busy making their way to the grandstands so the paddock was much easier to navigate. The results had been posted and a smile had been plastered on your face since seeing the grade, but you wanted to tell Lando and Carlos in person. 

“Hey, you’re actually here.” The aussie twang greeted your ears before you turned and found Oscar opening his door opposite Lando’s. “I was starting to believe you were a figment of my imagination.”

Oscar opened his arms and you stepped into the hug you were pretty sure you had trained him into expecting every time you met. He was already in his fireproof skins and they hugged every inch of his torso so you could feel the muscle that lay beneath. 

“I got in last night,” you said as you brushed a hand through his soft hair and giggled when it flopped back over his forehead. “How has your week been?”

“I’m pretty sure you know almost everything that’s happened.” Referring to the hundreds of texts that were religiously exchanged. 

“It’s not the same without seeing your face, I can’t tell if you’re lying or not.”

He tucked your head back into his collar and held you a little tighter. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You would if you thought it was protecting me.”

He didn’t have a response for that, at least not before Lando’s door opened and he leaned against the panel with an amused look on his face. 

“Are we celebrating or commiserating, love?”

You had completely forgotten why you had come to the building and a bright smile lit up your face as you bounced on the balls of your feet. “A+, baby.”

“Knew you could do it!” Lando wrapped his arms around you and, incidentally, Oscar too. “Fuck the diet, we are going out tonight.”

You looked up at Oscar. “You’ll come too right?”

“Of course he’s coming,” Lando answered with a wink. “Gotta thank the guy that looks after my girl when I’m away. She would never get her nose out of a book if you didn’t take her out.”

You had quickly learned that it didn’t take much to make Oscar blush and Lando loved to make it happen. 

“It’s no problem,” Oscar murmured as he scratched his heated neck. 

Oscar understood more than anyone why there were always rumours about Carlos. Every time pictures were snapped of you and the Spaniard, or all three of you, the gossip began anew. After spending quite a bit of time with you over the last six months he had his own fair share of rumours but he knew nothing had happened with you. It was hard not to gravitate closer to you or to hug you at any given chance - there was a magnetism he couldn’t explain and he didn’t want to fight it. 

“You saved me from total starvation on numerous occasions,” you praised, rising on your toes to kiss his pink cheek. “My hero.”

Oscar’s face grew another shade deeper and he tried to change his racing thoughts to something other than the feel of your lips. It was impossible, he was too far gone and was helpless to his own feelings that wanted more than you could offer. He couldn’t even look at Lando after the betrayal he had just imagined doing. That was his teammate and you were his boyfriend.

“I’m going to head to the garage,” he choked as he took a step back and grabbed his balaclava from his room. He could feel your eyes in him as he left and when he reached the end of the corridor he turned with a frown as he realised he had missed something. “Congratulations on the grade, you deserve it after the effort you put in.”

Those eyes he had come to love in the last six months softened and you smiled. “Thank you, Osc. Good luck out there.”

It started with a kiss. While Lando and Carlos were celebrating the points they had earned, you were keeping Oscar’s glass full as he stewed in his mind over what he could have done better. You could almost see the calculations running through his head as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass and it was like he couldn’t even hear the music in the nightclub. 

“If you don’t drink that I will, and you don’t want to see what happens to me when I have whisky,” you warned him. 

He looked at the glass and sighed, putting it down. “I think I should just call it a night. You should go have fun with them.” You followed his sight to Carlos and Lando jumping with the crowd, Lando’s mouth moving with the words and Carlos’ arm draped over his shoulder.

“They can keep each other company, I want to be here with you.” You took his glass and lifted it to your lips. “Last warning…” The liquor burned down your throat and you rushed to take a gulp of your fruity cocktail to wash away the taste before a shiver rolled down your spine. “Oh god, how can you drink that?”

You poured another glass from the bottle on the table and held it out until he took it with a small laugh. “It’s meant to be sipped, not shot,” he clarified before drinking a small amount.

The whisky hit your stomach and you felt warmth spread across your skin. The bar menu suddenly became a necessity and you fanned your face with the cardboard as the flush reached your hairline. “We should dance.”

“I, I’m not a good dancer,” he said, looking concerned at the idea.

“No one is good at dancing,” you pointed out, the crowd basically just jumping to the beat or moving side to side. “Just follow my lead.”

He accepted your hand and you grinned triumphantly as you towed him to the dancefloor before turning and stepping closer to his body. Your hands came to rest on his chest and you swayed your hips to the beat before realising he really did need to be led because his hands were still limp at his sides. 

“You can touch me,” you teased as you grabbed his hands and put them on your hips. “Just relax and feel the rhythm.”

Oscar’s fingers flexed when he felt you start moving again, your body brushing against his, and he released a shuddering breath when you turned in his arms and tipped your head back on his shoulder to look up at him. 

“You okay?” you asked as you watched his blue eyes darken in the laser lights.

“You’re beautiful.”

You turned to face him with one of those smiles of pure joy that always made his day better and he forgot about his poor race result. He could hardly breathe when your hands roamed his body, climbing the thick column of his neck to rest on his racing pulse. He was pretty sure he was going to pass out when you rose on your tiptoes, eyes closed and lips pursed to give him one of those sweet kisses on his cheek.

Someone knocked into him and he turned to growl a warning but then your lips were there, pressed to his lips and he lost the words. Time slowed to the space between one heartbeat and the next as he savoured the sweet taste of your drink, unable to stop himself from taking a little more. 

You had kissed his cheek enough times to memorise the feel of them and knew it was not what you were kissing. A soft gasp slipped past when his tongue parted your lips and your fingers found themselves tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as your body yearned for more.

“Uh-oh, someone’s had a bit of frisky whisky,” Lando purred in your ear.

Oscar startled back and wiped his lips that were the same shade as your lipstick. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. Someone pushed me,” he stammered as he looked around but had no idea who had barged into him when there were hundreds of people in the club.

“Relax, mate,” Lando said with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. You cozied into Lando’s arm and tried to process what had happened while your lips tingled from the kiss and your heart fluttered. “It’s the whisky.”

You wanted to tell him the whisky hadn’t kicked in yet but kept quiet as Oscar exhaled in relief. Hiding your face in the crook of Lando’s neck, you screwed your eyes shut and pushed away the image that told you he had regretted the kiss. The knowledge settled in your gut that twisted and turned and you gripped Lando’s shirt harder at the rejection. 

“Can we go?” you begged quietly. “Please?” 

Lando kissed your forehead and nodded. “Okay, love, let me just tell Carlos.”

Your hands were left empty as Lando darted back into the melee to find Carlos who would probably stay until the club shut down. For the first time since meeting him you felt awkward in Oscar’s presence knowing you had made him uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to say and it was clear he didn’t either as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed as you took a step away, hoping the crowd would swallow you whole.

When you woke the next morning for a moment you could pretend it was some strange dream, or nightmare, until Lando blinked his sleep eyes open and pulled you into his arms. “Good morning, beautiful.” The timbre of his voice when he was just waking could always bring a smile to your face but your lips merely wobbled and he sat up concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I fucked up, with Oscar.”

“Baby, it was just a kiss and you were both drunk, I’m sure he’s probably already forgotten about it.”

The thought that he could forget something that to you was so profound only compounded the ache in your chest. You didn’t want him to forget, you didn’t want him to regret, and you voiced as much to Lando as you cried in his arms.

“Sweetheart,” Lando murmured softly as he wiped away your tears. “I think this is a conversation we should have with Carlos.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you grumbled, tearing yourself from his embrace. “It wouldn’t work out anyway.”

Lando got up and followed you to the bathroom as you turned the shower onto the hottest setting. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“You and Carlos are best friends, and while you are always close to your teammates I know he doesn’t have the same interest in Oscar.” You stepped under the cascade and welcomed the burning heat that rained down. “I don’t want to lose what we have by wanting more.”

You didn’t hear Lando leave as the steam fogged up the glass and you let your head fall against the cold tile wall. He left you to your thoughts and gave you the space needed to reconcile your feelings to the past.

It started with a phone call. The urge had woken you from a deep sleep and you couldn’t shake the need to reach for your phone and dial the number you knew by heart. It had been a good weekend for the McLaren team with double podiums both in the Sprint and Grand Prix. The two third place caps were hung on the post of the bed as testament to the productive weekend but Lando had gone to bed deflated. 

Oscar had won his maiden race before him. A rookie had done what he had waited years for, what he still waited for. 

“Hello?”

You had assumed the call would go to voicemail after ringing for so long so you weren’t prepared to hear Oscar’s sleepy voice in your ear.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay, is everything alright?”

You swallowed and shook your head before remembering he couldn’t see. “I just wanted to say congratulations, I thought you would still be out celebrating.”

“There’s no one to go celebrating with,” he said so quietly you wondered if it was even meant to be said out loud. 

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what for exactly but you felt the need to say it anyway. It was about the only thing you had said to him in weeks. “I should let you get back to sleep.”

“It’s, uh, it’s good to hear your voice,” he admitted and you a little bit of the weight on your shoulders eased as you realised whatever you had wasn’t completely ruined.

“You too, Osc. Good night.”

“Night.”

It was naive to think that one phone call could repair the divide that had chasmed between you because when you returned home for your last semester you still felt his absence everywhere. There were no daily text messages, or invitations to dinner, no sudden appearances as you left class. He was a memory that haunted you and it was always worse when both Lando and Carlos were away.

Four Months Later

It started with a bouquet. The small card was almost lost in the overflowing explosion of blossoms that left a sweet scent in the air but when you flipped it over your heart skipped a beat. Congratulations, OP x 

You were still smiling just as brightly an hour later when you arrived at the graduation ceremony to receive your Honours degree. You had kept the bouquet with you and inhaled the fresh scent as you waited for your name to be called. A loud cheer erupted from the rows where Lando, Carlos, your friends and family sat but it was the lonely cheer at the back of the hall that caught your attention. 

Unfortunately it may have been a hopeful hallucination as you didn’t see him again after that or at the celebration Lando threw for you at home.

“Pack your bags, baby, it’s time for Monaco!” Lando engulfed you in a hug and spun you around so your ceremonial robes billowed out and you clutched your cap to keep it from flying off. “I’m so selfish, I can’t wait to wake up to you every fucking day.”

Another set of arms tugged you away and you fell into Carlos’ embrace. “I’m so proud of you, hermosa.”

You were practically a marionette the way you were passed from one person to the next until finally the bottles of champagne ran dry and the party came to an end. You collapsed onto your bed with a giddy laugh that the long journey was finally over and you toed your heels off, letting them fall to the floor. 

“You can’t sleep in your dress, amor,” Carlos chuckled as he walked into the room with Lando after locking the house up. 

“Then you will have to undress me,” you teased with a beckoning finger that faltered when you saw Lando had the bouquet in a vase that he had found downstairs and he placed it on the bedside drawers beside your phone. “I saw him.”

“I know,” Lando said as he straightened the card among the roses. “I invited him.”

“Thank you.”

The next bouquet was one that you sent to him on his birthday. He barely kept the flowers alive for a week but he did keep the card that was attached. The two little xx’s you signed off with were almost faded from how often he traced his thumb over them before slipping it back into his wallet. He was no longer a rookie but he found this season harder to bear without your companionship and he wished he could somehow fix what he broke.

The problem was that he couldn’t settle for just your friendship anymore so he had to keep his distance instead. He had tasted your lips and nothing less could sate the addiction that had festered in the absence of another hit.

Miami was torturous for Oscar. The car was running great and his qualifying was great, but after five rounds of racing he was still stunned every time he watched you enter the paddock. At least in China the weather was horrible so you were bundled up in Lando’s hoodie but Miami, Miami was hot. Monaco had been influential in your fashion and the dress you wore was worthy of the runways in Paris. 

Stacks of passes hung around your neck and fell into your cleavage as you entered the grid and joined Lando where he was talking to Carlos. Oscar watched with envy as you hugged them both and kissed their cheek with well wishes for the race while he failed to hear what his race engineer was explaining. He was distracted by the fact you had seen him, and smiled. It was small and shy, but it was a smile nonetheless and one of his own growing as you waved your fingers and disappeared back into the garage.

One hundred and ten races he kept you waiting, but finally Lando won his maiden race and there was nothing that could bring him down. He had not stopped smiling, or dancing, or talking since winning and he wasn’t even sure if any of it made sense. The hours were a whirlwind of alcohol and noise until it all turned black and Carlos had to help you get him into bed.

Lando was fast asleep with his mouth open and snoring, which heavily down to the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed at the after party. He didn’t even stir as you slipped out of the bed and left the room to answer the call that lit up your phone. 

“Hey.” You kept your voice low even though you knew nothing short of a fire alarm would wake your boyfriend.

“Hey.” You could hear the smile in that word and your own lips curled up in response. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I just needed to hear your voice.”

You navigated your way through the dark hotel suite to the balcony and opened the door just wide enough to fit through before closing it. The humidity was instant and the satin nightgown clung to your warm skin as you hung up the phone. “You didn’t wake me.”

Oscar was so close you could almost touch him, but the balcony one room over was just too far away. He even looked down the gap to see the fifteen storey high plunge and you could see his brows burrow together like he was calculating his chances of making the leap across. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him. “I didn’t come out here to see you fall to your death.”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing and he sighed in defeat. A smirk soon tugged at his lips and he brushed his hair back over his ear as he eyed the sheer slip you wore. “But you did come out here to see me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, aware of how thin the material was and all it bared. “I wanted to check how you were.”

Oscar’s lips pursed at the reminder of his poor race result. 

“Could have done without your boyfriend’s boyfriend crashing into me.”

He didn’t know how close to the truth he was with that statement and you wondered if he knew about the relationship that Lando and Carlos had or if he was just playing on an old fan rumour. You wondered how shocked he would be if he knew that Carlos was passed out on the other side of Lando right now. 

“It is a part of racing,” you reminded him. “There’s always a risk battling it out.”

Oscar dropped his head with a little laugh. “It’s a good thing I didn’t call you for sympathy or I would be disappointed.”

“Why did you call me?” 

You knew why.

“I told you, I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Osc,” you sighed, your hands falling to your side, and he lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes so similar to his teammates.

“I’m not an idiot,” he said as he let go of the rail he leaned on and rose to his full height. “I know you love him.”

“I do,” you confirmed with a small nod, unable to look in his direction as you turned your focus to the view of the ocean instead. 

You didn’t hear him move until his feet landed quietly on the concrete behind you and you spun around to face him. A small shocked gasp escaped your lips when his palm glided over the satin at your waist and pulled you closer to his body. Your hands found their own space on his chest and he froze as he waited for you to push him away, but your fingers curled into the white shirt he wore.

“I know you love him,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But I think you might love me too.”

“You have ignored me for months.” It wasn’t a denial and he caught the admission of those missing words.

“I can never ignore you, and now I know I can’t even keep my distance from you.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours as his large hands cradled your face. “I need you, Y/N.”

“You don’t know what you are asking for,” you whispered as you fought the urge to tell him just how much you needed him too. 

“I’m asking for a chance to show you how perfect we are for each other.” He pulled back to see tears shimmering in your eyes and he sighed. “I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

“Wait-”

“No, you don‘t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I don't want you to cheat on Lando.” He kept backing away but you followed with each step until his back was pressed to the railing. 

“Lando isn’t the problem,” you promised as you reached for his face and cradled his sharp jawline. “Remember when I said I was a PR nightmare?”

Oscar nodded as his brows furrowed together. 

“I’m trusting you with a secret no one else knows.” His confusion grew as you took his hand and led him inside the suite. You pressed a finger to your lips as you reached the bedroom door and nudged it wider so he could see what was inside. In the dim light it was hard to make out what he was looking at but then everything came into focus like the Ferrari shirt on the floor and the CS55 cap on the nightstand. 

Oscar’s jaw slackened as he recognised the two bodies spread across the sheets and he eyed the empty space that you had filled. A thousand questions muddled in his head and he swallowed them down until you had closed the door again. His hand slipped out of yours as you walked back to the balcony and you wondered if that was the last time you would ever hold it.

“No one can know, please,” you whispered as you hugged yourself and stared at the moonlight on the waves. 

“Help me to understand what I just saw. Are the rumours true then?”

You laughed and turned to face him, crossing your legs and you leant against the rail. “They're not wrong,” you admitted with an evasive shrug. “They love each other and have a relationship, but it’s not the same relationship that I have with them.”

“You’re not exactly helping me to understand this,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face as he sat heavily on the outdoor settee. 

You had never needed to explain it before, the addition of Carlos to yours and Lando’s relationship had naturally fallen into place and been accepted without having to understand why you all felt the way you did or how it was going to work. But now you were going to try.

“I met Lando first and what we had was instant, he was funny and sweet and kind. Then he introduced me to Carlos who was so charismatic it was impossible not to love him too. It didn’t mean I loved Lando any less so he supported me having a relationship with Carlos too.” 

“Okay.” He nodded like it made some sense and it gave you a slither of hope. “But what about them?”

You watched Oscar’s eyes linger on the skin bared by the satin and they darkened when you uncrossed your legs to step closer. He sat up straighter as you approached and his legs opened for you to step between and he did nothing to stop you when you took a seat on his lap. 

“You want to know if it's a package deal?” you teased, toying with the strands of his dirty blonde hair. “You want to know if you can have me, but at what price?”

His throat bounced with a deep swallow and his tongue wet his dry lips before he could speak again. “Is it?”

You thought about teasing him more but you settled for the truth. “No, like I said, they don’t have that sort of relationship. Yes, we may sleep in the same bed more often than not and on occasion they share me, but that is as far as they go. That is where the rumours are wrong.”

“Share you as in…”

“Threesome, Oscar,” you confirmed with a laugh as his cheeks turned pink. Seeing that colour again reminded you of the kiss and you shifted on his lap to straddle his hips. “I can’t stop thinking about you. It feels like a part of me has been missing for months.”

His hands slid up your back and pulled you closer. “I know what you mean.” 

His lips were so close you could feel their warmth and they begged you to close the distance, but you couldn’t just yet. “I want you, Osc, and you’re right, I do love you.”

You could see the sadness in his eyes as he asked, “But?”

“But I don’t know how this works when you and Carlos are battling each other every week.”

“I know things sound heated on the radio but that is just on the track,” he promised, his thumbs drawing soothing circles over your spine. “I have no problem with Carlos, I swear.”

Carlos had said the same thing but you weren’t sure if they were just trying to placate you. Only time would tell.

“It’s not just my heart that will break if this doesn’t work,” you whispered as your eyes fluttered shut and you surrendered yourself to him.

“Then we will just have to make this work.”

[taegularities]

colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough. 

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription. 

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep. 

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.” 

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But. 

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room. 

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive. 

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything? 

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ big gym energy (is this my fantasy?) | fushiguro toji

wc: 2.0k

summary: who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday?

contains: gn!reader, non-curse au, college au, appearance of itafushikugi (mostly nobara), reader has a huge and lowkey delusional crush on toji, age gap

a/n: the gym toji fic! tone in this is a bit different from what i write, and it's lowkey a crack fic but i hope it's still enjoyable! listened to: big energy - latto & area codes - kaliii

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: going to the gym for yourself (and totally not for that cute guy who sometimes says hi)

“You’re going to the gym?” Nobara halts smack in the middle of the busy hallway. Groans huff behind her, the rest of your class filing out of the lecture hall. You bow your head apologetically as you pull her to the side. 

“Yes.” 

She squints, skeptical, “You.” 

You nod.

“The gym.” she says it slower this time, tilting her head down. 

You nod again. 

Nobara blinks, shifting her weight as she reaches one hand inside the pocket of her overalls. There’s a long pause, rushed footsteps amplifying the suspense, then—

“Okay, what’s the bet? How much did Maki put out? I want in.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you loop your arm around hers and continue walking. 

There’s good reason for her to doubt you; she knows you best after all. In your little quad, you are the least likely to be found doing any physical activity or sport whatsoever—and that’s saying a lot, considering the other fourth of your group is Megumi. But at least he walks his dogs regularly. 

“Rude,” you scoff jokingly, “there’s no bet, just testing it out because they have a free trial promo.”

It shouldn’t hurt to check it out, you think. One of your resolutions this year is to finally get started on your fitness journey, whatever form it may be. 

“You should come.” 

Nobara snorts, “Wrong person,” you both turn at a corner, “ask Itadori.”

The gym is just a few blocks away from your campus, a good 18-minute walk if you’re counting—which is also part of what makes it so appealing. The ad you’d seen for the free trial is an early bird promo to attract new customers for the gym’s new branch launch. 

And it does make the most sense to ask him; he is the sports science major after all—

“No way,” you step out on the sidewalk, “telling him is practically committing to a membership.” 

—but Yuuji is a bit too eager when it comes to things like this. No doubt he’ll be at your heel, wagging his figurative golden retriever tail at the prospect of being your certified gym buddy. It’s endearing and you know he means well, but that’s way too much pressure for someone who’s just starting out. 

She laughs, readjusting her bag, “He’d know how to use the machines though.” 

“I watched some videos…” you mumble, because Nobara has a point, but if you’re being honest, you feel just a teensy bit embarrassed at the idea of anyone else knowing about your attempts at fitness this early on, lest it fail in the end. “I can probably ask someone there…” 

“Try the most jacked up person in the gym.” 

You shove her jokingly, her laughter echoing down the road. 

. 

The first person you meet at the gym is the lady at the front desk. Her ponytail sways as she greets you, a chirpy smile welcoming you in as she holds an iPad to her chest while touring you around—at the center, the main floor plan is decked out with machines; towards the back sit the squat racks, and to your sides are the private cycling rooms and multifunctional spaces. According to her, they also offer yoga classes every 6:00 p.m. on Wednesdays. 

You’d expected a lot more people to be in here at 7:00 p.m., but you suppose it makes sense others would prefer to spend their Friday nights elsewhere. 

Looking around, you spot a middle-aged lady you swear is Megumi’s English professor; on the treadmills, a couple your age share a laugh as they try to match pace. There are some machines you’ve never even seen in your life, Youtube videos included.

You take a deep breath. You can ask for help. 

After all, the crowd feels friendly enough, not too intimidating—

—until your eyes land on him, on the benches; an absolute tank of a man doing chest presses with what you think are probably the heaviest dumbbells on the rack. 

You try not to stare, catching only a glimpse of the way his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his black compression shirt. 

Don’t be a creep, you tell yourself, walking towards the leg press machine. You may be new here, but you’ve learned that gym etiquette isn’t so far off from acting like a civilized human being. 

Thank god you never take Nobara seriously, because you can’t even imagine the stuttering mess you’d be if you had to ask him how to work any of these god forsaken machines. 

.

It’s a good thing, then, that help comes to you without you having to say a word. 

This is number four out of five sessions in your free trial promo, and you have no idea how to get the goddamn plates out of the barbell. You pull some out from the other side and the whole barbell comes along with it. When you attempt the other side, it does the same. Then when you finally do manage to get off the plates on one side, the whole barbell drops, clanging loudly against the metal foot of the squat rack set-up. 

(Now that you think about it, maybe it isn’t such a good thing that you’ve been offered help instead of you asking. There must be a reason someone thinks you could need it.)

Someone, who is also the last person you could ever possibly want to embarrass yourself in front of.

Someone, who just so happens to be the jacked up tank of a man you’ve admittedly glanced at a few times in your past few visits here. 

“To make it easier,” he crouches beside you, laying down a smaller plate and rolling the larger ones on the barbell over it. 

He unloads them like they weigh nothing—and with his physique, it isn’t hard to believe that they probably do. His biceps look to be the size of your head, chest popping out in ways you’ve only seen on those Tiktok thirst edits; his one hand is larger than a 2.5 kilogram plate, and his forearms look like they could ch—

Mind out of the gutter, you blink away, focusing instead on the metal bar in front of you. 

God, you don’t even know this man’s name. 

“T-thanks.” you stutter, embarrassed. 

He gives you a half-smile, lips turned on one side, “Sure.” then he walks away, the tightness of his black compression shirt hugging the ridges of his back muscles. 

You gulp. 

So begins your year-long gym membership.

(And maybe, just maybe, the kind-of-meet-cute of a lifetime. Who knows, really?) 

.

“Who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday,” she snorts, fingers grazing over the curved edges of the heart-shaped watermelons in the fruit aisle.

You hush her, scanning the area around you for anyone who might have overhead. 

It’s 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday, so you doubt it, but you can never be too sure.

“He’s nice, you know.” you pout. 

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Nobara gives you a look. 

You glare, touché. 

Maybe you don’t know his name. Yet. 

But he’s always offered to stack on the heavy plates for you, and will oftentimes help in unloading them too. There are times when you aren’t quite sure how to work the machines and he swoops in like the gym buff version of prince charming, teaching you proper form just so you don’t get injured. He’ll wipe down a mat for you to use some days, because—

“Stretching is important,” he never fails to mention.

He’s nice. 

And you have an insanely delusional crush on him, but you don’t care, because why else would he be giving you this much attention if he wasn’t interested in you too? 

.

You find out many things about your gym crush, most of them completely unexpected. 

One: his hair is unusually soft for someone who looks so rough. Or, well, you think it looks soft, you can’t tell for sure; you haven’t actually touched it to be able to tell. The black mop on his head falls flat over his eyes on the few days you assume are right before his next scheduled haircut. It surprises you even more when he walks in the gym with a small hair tie holding his bangs up. 

Two: he does a considerable amount of bodyweight exercises for someone his size—Calisthenics, specifically. 

You watch him pull himself up the bar, biceps and back straining against the movement. The muscles ripple across the fabric of his tee, and it’s impressive how smoothly he’s able to go up and down; as if he isn’t exerting any effort at all. Then, the push-ups and dips. He can do them all, in every variation you never even thought existed, and it’s always done with so much ease. 

It gives you reason to believe that he could be gentle, controlled. In what? Well. You know. 

Three: he likes fruity things. You expected his go-to to be straight black, maybe a chocolate protein shake on other days too. But he shows up one day with a smoothie in the shade of vibrant magenta. Dragonfruit, you assume, from all the black specks floating in it. 

This also happens to be the first time you initiate the conversation with him.  

“Your smoothie looks good,” you mumble, a little hesitant. 

God, so awkward. 

He looks up from adjusting the plate stoppers on your bar. 

A hum rumbles from his throat before he flashes you the same half-smile he always does, “Strawberry, banana, and dragonfruit.” 

You don’t really know what to say after that other than, “Cool.” 

And you mentally facepalm yourself. 

. 

In your fourth month at the gym, you learn a few more unexpected things that change everything. 

You’ve just finished freshening up and you’re on the way out when you bump into— 

“Megumi?” 

He looks up from his phone, dark strands hitting the tips of his eyelashes as he pushes back one side of his headphones. He raises an eyebrow, confused and surprised.  

“You gym?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Pink dusts his cheeks as he ducks his head, motioning for you to go first. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, “I started going here a few months ago. You?” 

He looks a little surprised by it, probably more so at the fact that you’ve kept it a secret from him for so long, but he nods, “That’s good. You did mention wanting to work on your fitness more this year.” then, he shifts, adjusting his weight before hanging his headphones by his neck. 

“I’m waiting for my dad.” 

In the past few years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never mentioned his dad. You never bothered to ask because you suspected there was a good reason he never talked about him in the first place. 

And so comes number four, and maybe the last unexpected thing you find out about your gym crush— 

“Megumi!” 

You both turn around to the voice of none other than Nobara’s proclaimed rippest DILF in Japan; the most jacked up tank of a man who also happens to be the man you’ve crushed hard on for the past four months.  

Everything is snapping into place, information forming bridges you would rather not cross right now. 

He walks up to Megumi, duffel bag slung across his chest as he reaches for your friend.

Megumi looks like he wants to wither away, embarrassed at you seeing him tucked under his dad’s arm. But all your brain can really comprehend is that Megumi, your good friend, is currently squished between the bicep and chest you’ve been staring at since your first day at the gym.

You hold your breath, the realization creeping to the forefront of your mind. There had been signs that your gym crush was a dad; apart from being built like one, he’d offhandedly mention ‘son’ a few times. You didn’t think it would be—

“Oh, you two know each other?” your gym crush tilts his head, turning to you, “you didn’t tell me your friend signed up for this gym, Megumi.” 

“I didn’t know,” Megumi grumbles, and the look on his face can rival yours, for sure. Tough competition on ‘who looks like they want to die the most right now?’. 

But he can’t win. 

Because when Megumi begrudgingly introduces your gym crush to you as his dad, you’re pretty sure you’ve buried yourself twelve feet underground. 

(It doesn’t ease the embarrassment when you learn unexpected thing number five: he’s been a trainer at the gym this entire time.)

thank you notes: to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for encouraging me all the way!! ily ari

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[therealcocoshady]

Coco!! Just wanted to say THANK YOU for indulging another one of my requests and so QUICKLY too. I know you’re busy, busy and I really appreciate it! This was everything I ASKED for and more! Love me some sweet and sexy Marsh 🤍💪🏼🧘🏻‍♀️💦💋🌶️🥵🧸

Hope you enjoy a ☕️ or 2 on me! 😉

A/N : Hi bestie 🌟. Thank YOU for supporting me and being my first ever commission ❤️.

For those of you who didn’t know, you can support my writing by giving tips on my Ko-Fi account and I am now open for commissions as well 😏.

@shady-577 kindly allowed me to post the commission on this blog, too, to I hope y’all enjoy 🌟

Sweat Session

Marshall was a very healthy person and it showed. On your very first date, he’d told you about him trying to lead a healthy lifestyle by maintaining his sobriety, eating well and exercising and, two years into your relationship, he was more than consistent. You had recently moved in together and you got to see just how seriously he took it. And as he was getting ready to drop a new album, perform regularly again and do some promo, he started exercising even more. Not only it kept him fit, but it also helped him deal with his stress. He got up even earlier in the morning to hit the gym and, even though you enjoy the fruits of his labor (what with him being even more buff than before), you were a little grumpy not to have your man in bed with you when you woke up. And since he spent even more time at work, polishing the album and working on the promo, you didn’t see him as much as you liked, which made you a little frustrated.

- You know, you could hit the gym with me, he suggested with a smile when you told him about your annoyance. Might do some good.

- Is this a sneaky way of telling me I’ve gained weight ? You asked as you side-eyed him.

- What ? No ! He immediately said. I’m just saying it’s healthy to exercise. You could wake up a little earlier and join me in the gym.

- Or you could skip a day and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning, you suggested with a charming grin.

- Not happening, doll, he said with a smile. Need to be consistent.

- Fine, you groaned.

With the public appearances and photo shoots he had planned, as well as music videos to shoot, he wanted to look buff. At 51 years old, he didn’t want to be seen as some « aging rapper who let himself go ». And sure enough, the results were there. His chest was chesting and he had Twitter go feral over the outline of his pecs, clearly visible on the latest pics of him at Dre’s Walk of Fame ceremony.

The next day, you woke up to the sound of his alarm going off and let out a groan. He whispered an apology and kissed your forehead before going to the home gym in the basement. You tried to fall back to sleep but without your man by your side, the bed felt cold and empty. That’s when you decided enough was enough. You got up and put on a cute working out outfit, which looked more like underwear than clothes you could actually work out in, consisting of a bra and the tiniest shorts ever. Just enough fabric to highlight your figure and make your ass and breast pop out. When you got downstairs, you saw him working out on an incline bench, absorbed on what he was doing. He was wearing simple sweatpants and sneakers, not even bothering with a teeshirt. The view reminded you of how lucky you were. You looked at him from afar for a good while, him so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there, practically drooling.

- Hi handsome, you said seductively. Mind if I join you ?

- You decided to get up after- he began. Jesus Christ…

- Yes ? You said innocently.

- You’re gonna work out in these ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You don’t like it ? You asked.

- I don’t think that’s enough fabric for me to critique, he hummed.

- Far be it from me to distract you, you said with a smile. Unless…

- I have to work out, babe, he said with a frown. But you’re welcome to join.

You shrugged. You’d been dating for a while but, clearly, he should know better than to assume you didn’t have more tricks up your sleeve. You kicked off your sneakers and grabbed a yoga mat, strategically placing it so that he’d have a good view. You started stretching, going from pose to pose. He kept on working out next to you, though you could see his gaze.

- Like what you see ? You hummed.

- Making sure you’re doing it right, he said with a grin.

- Sure, you giggled.

He got up while you were in downward facing dog and put a hand on your hip, helping you stretch your back a little.

- You know, these tiny shorts don’t hide much, he whispered in your ear. Especially not in this pose.

- Oh yeah ? You asked as you switched to a three-legged down dog that gave him an even better view.

- Fuck, he muttered under his breath.

You kept your flow going under his watchful eye, looking at you as if you were a snack.

- I think my flexibility is not too bad, you remarked.

- It’s really good, he mumbled. Really good.

- Thank you for correcting my posture, my love, you said innocently. Let me repay the favor and spot you.

He hummed and laid back on the inclined bench, grabbing some halters, working on his arms. You gently ran your hand on his biceps, feeling how much bigger they had gotten in the past weeks.

- So muscular, you said seductively. You are so strong…

- Am I ? He mused.

- And that chest, you continued. It’s all for the « Stan » shirt lift for your upcoming tour, isn’t it ?

He looked at you with a grin, knowing this particular move drove you absolutely crazy. You watched him exercise. He clearly didn’t need you to spot him, and you knew it, but this allowed you to stare. He sat back up and grabbed his water bottle, taking a big gulp. You were staring at each other with « fuck me eyes » and you could tell he was trying hard not to give in to the temptation.

- You’re awfully distracting, woman, he said.

- Maybe you need to take a little break, you suggested. I think it’s time you were shown some appreciation for all this hard work…

He smiled and playfully shook his head before taking another gulp of water. Some of it missed his mouth and trailed down his neck and chest. You stepped closer and ran your tongue on his neck, catching the iced liquid. He let out a groan, letting you know how pleasurable it was.

- Let’s not be wasteful with water, now, you said seductively. Oh, I think I missed some…

You proceeded to kiss his chest, catching the water with your mouth. You took advantage of the moment and placed a kiss on one of his pecs. He chuckled and pulled you to him so that you’d sit in his lap before kissing you passionately.

- You’re impossible, he hummed between kissed. I can’t focus.

- And you’re a fucking tease, you retorted as you kissed him back. I’m only human, you know ?

- I’ll give you teasing, he grinned.

With one movement of his knee, he had you spread your legs for him, before running his fingers on the inside of your thigh. You hummed in pleasure as his hand got dangerously close to your pussy, eventually cupping it over the thin fabric of your shorts, making you sigh in pleasure.

- Is this what you wanted ? He asked playfully.

- Yes, you whined.

There was nothing more you loved than to sit in his lap, his arms around you, free to run his hands across your body. He knew it and he happily obliged, keeping on teasing you over your clothes, cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples with his fingers. He freed one of your boobs from your sports bra and pinched the nipple, making you moan in pleasure. You automatically started grinding against his thigh, your body desperate for some release.

- Look at this, he chuckled. You don’t need me to take care of you. Looks like you’re doing it on your own.

- Please, you asked breathily. Marshall.

- Patience, love, he whispered in your ear before letting his hand go back to your pussy.

He played with you over the fabric, no doubt feeling how wet you were. His head was buried in your neck and you could feel his smile against your skin. You kept on moaning, desperate for more. Eventually, you took matters in your own hands and knelt between his legs. You decided to put him through the same misery and stroked his high through his sweatpants, going higher and higher with each motion. Even through the fabric, you could see his growing bulge. You looked up to him and saw that he was looking in the mirror across the room, admiring the view of you, kneeling for him.

- You’re so beautiful in this position,he said as he ran a hand through your hair.

- Keep enjoying the view, then, you suggested with a smirk.

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to allow you to lower them, eventually kicking his sneakers so that you’d remove the whole thing, along with his boxers. There was something about him, naked on the bench, his massive erection showing you how excited he was. You stroked his cock and gave it a few pumps before approaching your face.

- I could leave you like this, you mused. Like you’ve left me alone in our bed…

- Babe, no, he pleaded. Please.

You thoroughly enjoyed reversing the power dynamic. By the look he was giving you, you could tell that he was wrapped around your finger, eating in the palm of your hand. You gave him a mischievous grin and started licking the tip of his cock, earning sighs of pleasure in the process. You kept on stroking the length while kitten licking the head, knowing it drove him crazy, that he wanted nothing more than for you to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually, you did and he moaned loudly, still holding on to your hair. You kept on sucking him, hollowing your cheeks to pleasure him even more. You took as much as you could, making you drool all over his cock. You stared at him from below and saw he was bemused by the reflection of you sucking him in the mirror. You could feel him twitch inside of your mouth, a sign that he was about to come.

- Stop, he warned.

- You can come, you said as you kept on stroking him.

- Don’t want to, he said. Not yet.

He helped you get up and kissed you hungrily before undressing you. He sat back and pulled you so that you’d straddle his lap, giving him an opportunity to suck on your tits while grabbing a handful of your ass. He lined himself at your entrance and inserted himself, making you whimper. There it was. What you’d been craving. The sole sensation of him inside you was heavenly. His mouth traveled between your nipple and your neck, proving that he knew your sweet spots all too well.

- is this what you wanted ? He asked breathily.

- Yes, you whispered.

He started thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to bottom into you and hit your sweet spot. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily, dying to be close to him as ever. The making out was hotter than ever and you always wanted more, desperate for some release, knowing this man could make you come like no one else before him.

- Faster, you begged. Harder. Please.

He gave you a smirk and carried you to another bench that was slightly higher. He had you on your knees, ass up and face down and penetrated you roughly, making you scream before thrusting violently. He was going so fast that you had trouble catching your breath. But at the same time, it was so good, so hot to have him use you. His thrusts became slower again and he put your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look in a mirror in front of you. You could see your faces twisting in pleasure. His gaze met yours and he gave you a smirk before quickening his pace. He closed his eyes and all hell broke loose. His hips moved faster than ever, hitting you deep. There was no doubt that you’d be sore for the following days but, in the instant, neither of you cared, lost in the pleasure. You moved your hips in sync, trying to keep up with him. You didn’t want it to end and, yet, you could feel you were both so close to climax. The coup de grâce came when he looped a hand around you to reach and rub your swollen clit, making you cry in ecstasy. You could feel your juices flowing, forming a puddle underneath you, in which you inevitably collapsed, Marshall on top of you.

The both of you stayed still and silent for a minute, taking the time to catch your breath. Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss there that made you shiver.

- Are you alright, love ? He asked as he got up.

- Y-yes, you replied as you were still struggling to breathe properly.

He chuckled and got up with a grunt, grabbing a towel to clean you and a water bottle to help you hydrate. You let him clean you and sat up on the bench, taking a good look at his naked form. In spite of rocking a buzz cut, he still looked disheveled and insanely sexy.

- You’re so hot, you said lovingly.

- Is that why you jumped on me ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe, you giggled. Been missing you, lately.

He gave you a smile and wrapped you in his strong arms before kissing you.

- Missed you too, he said. But you do realize you’re the main reason I’m doing all of this for, don’t you ?

- Am I ? You mused.

- Of course, he hummed. When I’m making music, I think of how much I want you to be proud. And when I’m here… my main motivation is you. I want to look good for you. You’re always on my mind.

You cooed and kissed him tenderly. He was too adorable.

- Well, I am proud of you. And I do think you look incredible me you complimented. I’m proud to be yours.

- I love you, he said. How about a shower before you need to go to work ?

- Ok, you said with a pout.

You got up and he grabbed you by the waist before leading you out of the home gym.

- I like fucking you in here, he hummed. I can’t believe we waited so long for this, though.

- We’ll have to do it again, you said with a smile. I can think of a few creative ways to use that gym equipment.

- Oh believe me, next time I’m putting those resistance bands to good use, he chuckled. I guess it completes the tour of the house. We’ve officially done it in every room of the house.

- Does that make me a permanent resident ? You grinned.

- It does, he chortled.

- Oh no, there’s one room missing, though, you said.

He looked at you with a frown, knowing exactly where you were going with this. He sternly shook his head as he led you to the stairs.

- Nope, he said. Don’t even thing about it. We’re not doing it in the hope studio. I have rules.

- We’ll see, you grinned.

- I’m not going to cave in, he warned.

- You know I like a challenge, you said innocently. Besides… you love me. You wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He chuckled, failing to keep the annoyed look on his face. You knew he loved you being all needy, and that there was only so much charm offensive he could resist.

- We’ll see, he hummed before bringing your hand to his lips and then placing a loving kiss on your ring finger.

[harrysfolklore]

Instagram concept with Sami miro as the face claim and she’s Harry’s stylist and they eventually start dating

HERE !! i loved this concept i hope you like it <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by sza, harry_lambert and 55,927 others

yourinstagram starting the job of my dreams this week 🥺

view all 5,098 comments

yourfriend SO PROUD OF YOU !!

jefezoff Welcome to the team 🤘🏻

harry_lambert Couldn’t think of a better person to take my place, you’ll do amazing darling ❤️

↳ yourinstagram i love you 🤍

chiaraferragni 💖💖

fashionfan I love all of your projects! I’m excited to see what’s coming

madisonbeer good luck wifey

liked by yourinstagram, jefezoff and 189,637 others

harry_lambert Goodbyes are bittersweet ❤️ I had the best time dressing my angel sue @harrystyles for half a decade. H, you will always be my #1, and you’re in good hands @yourinstagram ❤️

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harryfan1 NOOOO LAMBERT :(

jefezoff 🥺🥺🥺

harryfan2 we’re going to miss youuu

harrystyles Thank your everything, Lamby ❤️

↳ harryfan1 ilysm

yourinstagram you’re always going to be the 🐐🐐 thank you for this opportunity 🤍 and thank you to the lovely harry fans for being so nice already, i promise to give you the looks you want

↳ harryfan2 wtf i already love her

↳ harryfan3 maybe lambert leaving is not a bad thing

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 7,098 others

harryontour Harry’s new stylist is YN, a designer, fashion blogger and stylist who has worked with celebrities like SZA, Madison Beer, Jacob Elordi, Bella Hadid and more !

Fun fact: She designed this jumpsuit harry wore back in 2017 for HS1 promo

view all 1,689 comments

harryfan1 she’s super talented i love her

harryfan2 she’s also so sweet and nice

harryfan3 we love a successful woman on harry’s team. those outfits are going to slay

yourinstagram Thank you guys 🤍🤍

↳ harryfan2 SEE she’s super sweet

liked by harrystyles, jennierubyjane and 102,389 others

yourinstagram some fun facts about me:

i'm a scorpio

my favorite one direction song is stockholm syndrome

i prefer tea over coffee

love on tour starts tomorrow !!!!! 😳😳

view all 10,837 coments

harryfan1 she's so cool

harryfan2 bestie let harry go shirtless on stage tomorrow

↳ yourinstagram your wish = my command

↳ harryfan3 YEEEESS

harrystyles Stockholm Syndrome. Great bop.

↳ harryfan1 harry styles what are you up to

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harryupdates HARRY IS PERFORMING STOCKHOLM SYNDROME RN !!!!

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harryfan1 OMFGGGGGG

harryfan2 AHHHHH MY FAVE

harryfan3 SO RANDOM BUT IM NOT COMPLAINING

harryfan4 THANK YOU TO WHOEVER MADE THIS POSSIBLE

YN AND HARRY VIA TWITTER

//

liked by jefeazoff, yourinstagram and 2,255,903 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. Horsens I. May, 2023.

view all 41,927 comments

harryfan1 AHHHH

harris_reed little boy blue 💙

harryfan2 MY BABYYYYYY

yourinstagram nice outfit 🕺❤️

↳ harrystyles Thanks, the girl who put it together for me is pretty dope x

↳ harryfan1 HUUUUHHHH

↳ harryfan2 us he flirting?

harryfan3 he missed the stage so much

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harryupdates “We have a new band member with us, please welcome Madi Diaz to the stage! We also have someone new backstage, someone who gets me looking all fabulous every night, give it up for my new stylist, YN!" - Harry in Horsens tonight !

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harryfan1 AWEEE

harryfan2 yn is the coolest

harryfan3 LOVE THEM

harryfan4 the video of yn's reaction was so cuuuteeee

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yourinstagram FIRST STOP OF LOVE ON TOUR DONE !!! thank uuuu for all the love on h's outfits, putting them together for each night has been so far the coolest thing i've ever done as a job, see you soon munich 🤍🕺

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harryfan1 SLAYYYYY

sza Congrats ❤❤

harryfan2 MORE OUTFITS WITH HITTIES PLEASE

harrystyles Who's Harry Lambert anyway, EW?

↳ harryfan3 WTFFFFF

↳ harry_lambert Hey!

↳ yourinstagram not you quoting taylor swift please

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Horsens II. May, 2023.

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harryfan1 BABYYYYY

annetwist Love love ❤❤

mtv me after totally wrecking the office bathroom

harryfan2 i can't wait for my show

yourinstagram you people don't knoe this but ____ was playing in the background

↳ harrystyles That's a special bop x

↳ harryfan2 he's obsessed with the word bop i swear

FANS VIA TWITTER

//

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 9,376 others

harryupdate HARRY ON STAGE IN COVENTRY TONIGHT !!! YN UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT LOOK AT THE HITTIES !!

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harryfan1 OMFGGGGG

harryfan2 THIS IS OBSCENE

harryfan3 LONG LIVE YN BEST STYLIST

yourinstagram glad you liked it besties, also 'hitties' might be my favorite new word

↳ harryfan1 SLAAAAY

liked by alexademie, harrystyles and 201,109 others

yourinstagram snap from the other day !! also spoiler alert: the theme for edinburgh night one will be donus ily harries

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harryfan1 she's so gorgeous

harryfan2 is this from their date? 👀

jennierubyjane ❤

harrystyles Decent photo x

↳ yourinstagram credits to harry styles i guess 🙄

↳ harryfan2 OHH SO IT IS FROM THEIR DATE

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harryupdates Harry playing golf today in Scotland !

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harryfan1 BABYYYY

harryfan2 such a slay

harryfan3 why do i feel like im staring at boyfriendrry rn

harryfan4 I LOVE HIM

TEXT BETWEEN HARRY AND YN

//

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 8,083 others

harryupdates Harry having dinner tonight !

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harryfan1 that jacket is soooo iconic

harryfan2 BUUUBBB

harryfan3 HES IN ANOTHER DATE WITH YN BYEEEE

↳ harryfan1 how do u know

↳ harryfan4 she posted a story with the same background

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harryontour "The hitties are out tonight! YN taught me that word !" Harry on stage on Edinburgh tonight !

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harryfan1 OMFGGGG

harryfan2 so yn teaches him words now 😵

harryfan3 they're definetely dating lmaooo boyfriendrry is HERE

harryfan4 MY BABY

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Edinburg II. May, 2023.

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harryfan1 BABYYYY

harris_reed Little shooting star 💫

harryfan2 this outfit was 10/10

annetwist ❤️

yourinstagram damn your stylist has such a good taste

↳ harrystyles Bet x

↳ harryfan3 STOP FLIRTING IN FRONT OF US

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @waitingroomharry @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @peterparker1sgf

[beccarodeupontheafternoontrain]

Guest in the Relationship

Damian Wayne x reader

Word count: 3024

Summary: Damian keeps forgetting about your dates and this night is the final straw

Warnings: mugging, some violence, slight angst and unedited

Part 2

First work I’ve written in a long time so constructive criticism is welcomed, but please be kind and I hope you enjoy :)

I looked at the clock on my bedside table. 7:34. It had been over an hour since Damian was supposed to pick me up for our date. I'd been discussing how much I wanted to see this film for months at this point - ever since the first promo trailer dropped. The tickets I had bought for opening night went unused in my desk drawer from another date Damian had forgotten or been late to.

The number of dates planned but gone uncompleted seemed insurmountable now, endless even. In the year and a half I'd been dating Damian I had gotten used to the constant family emergencies, other plans he had or straight up just him forgetting you had plans in the first place. Damian always apologised profusely afterwards and I had always forgiven him. It was a non-problem. Yes it hurt and was annoying, but it wasn't till recently his inability to prioritise you had become a problem. Jon had gotten himself a boyfriend, a boyfriend who showed up to every date early bearing gifts for Jon. I was beyond happy my best friend had finally found himself someone, but a green lens always covered my vision when he told me about how perfect his relationship was. Especially when he mentioned how him and his boyfriend had gone to see the film I seemed to have mentioned in nearly every sentence I'd spoken as of recent. To top the cake this conversation occurred at a friend lunch date which Damian cancelled going to last minute because of a 'family emergency'. I refused to think about what or rather who a family emergency was. I glanced at the clock again, 7:43. If I didn't leave soon I'd miss the film, again, I wasn't going to waste anymore cinema tickets. With a sigh I braced myself and my heart for once again doing something alone that I was supposed to, should be doing with Damian.

The film had barely reached the halfway point when I finally decided to leave the screen. The vice grip holding my heart captive was too much to handle, the pain was making me physically sick. The film was just as good as Jon had said, I just wished Damian was there to see it with me or had at least replied to one of my texts asking where he was. My heart hurt so much from the disappointment of not only missing Damian, but also from not being able to enjoy the film i'd been waiting for, for so long. Did I really mean so little to Damian? Surely he would have broken up with me by now if he had no interest in me. But then why did we barely see each other anymore, I couldn't even recall the last time we saw each other outside of school. Maybe he just didn't know how to break up with me. My heart burned just at the thought he didn't want me anymore. Tears started rushing down my face, harder than before. I couldn't walk back into the screen like this, I just needed to go back to my house. Despite the 45 minutes in the dark it would take, I decided to walk home, I couldn't bear the idea of anyone on the bus giving me funny looks for crying. I should have really performed a risk assessment before walking around Gotham at night, but I was too focused on trying to calm my heavy breathing and halt my tears.

My steps sped up when my front door became visible, I really just wanted to sleep. I was too distracted to notice the balaclava clad man who had been following me for two blocks already. He grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth to prevent me from screaming for help and pulled me into the closest alleyway. I knew a bruise was going to form from where he shoved me against the wall. My tear's amplified significantly, this was quite frankly the worst time I could be mugged. A knife found its way against my neck "empty your pockets." his words were slow and clear - no fear of being caught by one of the many vigilantes who called Gotham their home. "I don't have anything." Any attempts I was making to appear strong to the man in front of me failed miserably due to the cracking of my voice. My never ending crying from past hour and a bit had done me no favours. The mugger placed the knife more firmly against my neck "I won't repeat myself again" his lips were so close to grazing my ear "empty your pockets." I couldn't see any clear escape from this situation, I needed to try and diffuse it. "Please, I really don't have anything!" My voice was considerably louder and more firm this time. I could feel the edge of the knife slowly cutting into the skin of my neck. Where was the obnoxious bird inspired superhero when you needed him. He always seemed to be lurking around your neighbourhood, so why now was he failing to grace you with his presence. The mugger pushed me further against the wall, hard, so hard I could feel the brickwork through my raincoat. He pushed one hand into my pockets while the other kept the knife placed at my throat. The man got increasingly angered as spare change, my film ticket and a piece of gum fell to the floor. When he finally took my phone out of my pocket, I could tell there was a low chance of me escaping this encounter unscathed. My 5 year old iPhone would barely get him enough money to buy a meal at Bamonte's. The man's body language caused my heart even faster I feared it might actually leave my body. I had never seen someone so angry. He grabbed my face with both hands, the roughness of his hands could leave cuts on my skin themselves. His grip became impossibly tighter on my face in order for him to smash my face into the brick behind. A loud pained yelp escaped my lips. Pleads begging someone would help invade my mind - bird themed hero or neighbour, anyone. The man stepped back, twirling his knife in his hand, staring at me like he was contemplating what to do next. I screamed. It was the only option I had left, there were no other means to escape this situation. There was no way I could overpower this man, especially when he was wielding a knife he'd already cut me with. All I could do was scream for help and pray someone would hear me.

Luckily for me and unfortunately for the man in front of me, a caped shadow appeared from behind the man. Relief possessed my body as I watched the mugger be knocked out. Where moments prior rough hands gripped my face, now gloved hands cradle my cheeks. Jade green eyes analysing my face in a silent question. A question I was not yet ready to answer. Instead I wrapped my arms around Robin's shoulders burying my head in the crook of his neck, the phrase thank you becoming my mantra. Me and Robin had only stumbled across each other a handful of times previously, usually on a late night walk of mine where he started off by lecturing me of the dangers of walking around alone at night and ended with us stargazing on my fire escape discussing our secrets.

I am unsure what happened over the next few minutes, shock and tears overtook my body. All I am sure of is that Robin held me throughout it all. He let me stay holding him, kissing my temple and stroking my hair, reassuring me everything was okay now. When I finally felt like I could breathe again, I removed my head from where it rested against Robin's shoulder so I could look at him "I'm sorry." I said, my voice reverting back to its hoarse quiet mess as a result of my crying. He shook his head at me, removing the remnants of my tears with his fingers. "There's no need to be sorry." I hesitantly smile at him "I guess I should have listened more to your lectures." My attempt at brightening the mood fails when Robin doesn't reciprocate my smile. "I need you to promise me that you'll never walk alone at night again." His greens pleaded with me to listen to him as he continued even more seriously. "If I hadn't gotten there when I had" Robin cuts himself off, looking away from me and swallowed harshly. "I need you to promise me so I know you're safe. I might not always be there to protect you." When he finally looked back at me the desperation in his eyes was clear as day. I presented him with my pinky "I promise." His bodily visibly relaxed in front of me as he joined our pinkies together.

"Do you know what time it is?" I asked Robin. "Nearly half 10. Why?" He seemed genuinely baffled as why that would be the first proper thing I thought about after the type of attack I just endured. "Do you know where my phone is?" I chose to ignore his confusion. Robin looked at the floor, searching for where the mugger had dropped my phone. Fortunately, bar a few scratches to the screen, my phone had survived the attack. I had two notifications, one from my mum which arrived before the attack asking for my ETA and another from Jon asking if me and Damian enjoyed the film. No messages from Damian. None. It had been over 4 hours since we were supposed to meet. I could feel the tears start to well back up in my eyes. This wasn't the first time he hadn't responded to my messages, but it had never happened at a time where I really needed him. I needed to go home and I didn't mean the building across the road. I needed to be in Damien's arms.

I looked towards Robin who was collecting my belongings from where the man had dropped them on the pavement. I wanted to escape this situation now. Taking a breath in an attempt to contain my tears, I watched as Robin paused when he picked up my film ticket from the ground an almost incoherent curse coming from his mouth. "I really need to get home now." My teeth clenched, I was so close to crying again. I refuse to cry in front of Robin again tonight. "Thank you so much for everything." Robin opened his mouth as if to respond but I turned around before he could speak a word, practically sprinting to my front door. I just needed to hide in my bed from the world for a while. Too much had happened in such a short space of time. I needed to debate what to do about the whole Damian situation and process the attack I just experienced.

Two hours later and my phone had not stopped buzzing. Damian had been calling and messaging me non-stop to apologise and ask if I'm okay. While all I wanted was for him to hold me and make me feel safe again, how could that happen when I felt like a guest in our relationship. I know I needed to message him to reassure him I was okay and that I just needed time, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Taylor Swift was blasting through my headphones so it was no surprise I didn't hear the knock at my window, or the second, or the third or when the red caped vigilante entered my room. I only noticed him when the duvet protecting me from the rest of the world was removed around my head.

"Hey." Robin seemed nervous. He was never nervous. I sat up in my bed curious as to not only why he was here but also to why he looked so nervous. "Hi." My voice sounded stronger than it had the last time we spoke. He pushed a small rectangular piece of paper into my hands, it was the film ticket I'd left with him before. I looked up at him, tilting my head in confusion. "I just came to return this." His speech was hurried. "And to make sure you're okay of course." I'd thought nothing could ruffle the feathers of this bird, but seemingly I was wrong and I needed to get to the bottom of why he was acting so weirdly. I decided to answer him truthfully. "Apart from the cut to my neck and the probably never ending trauma, I'd say I'm doing okay considering." Robin's eyes flew to my neck, he hadn't noticed the cut till now. "It's really nothing, I'm okay, I swear." I patted the bed next to me as an offer for him to sit, but also in an effort to eradicate the new found fury on Robin's face. Turning to Robin I say "now why don't you tell me what's wrong with you." Robin's anger quickly turns back into apprehension, but his eyes never leave the small cut on my neck. "I don't know what you mean." He replies, words slightly slower than before. I roll my eyes at him, I repeat myself . He's short with his response "nothing." There was no way I was letting this boy leave my room without a proper explanation. "So you go to every damsels room after you rescue them then?" Robins quick response of no was partnered with a shake of the head so familiar to me. Odd. "Then why come visit me after?" Robin was stumped by this question, constantly opening his mouth to answer before closing it again. He finally settled on an answer. "You seemed upset about something else other than the incident earlier" he looked me in the eyes before continuing, god they looked so similar to my favourite pair. Obviously missing Damian was making me look for him in places he had no right being. "As somewhat friends I wanted to see what I could do to help." I'd blanked out half of what Robin had said with my thoughts of Damian. If I was going to get to the bottom of why Robin was acting so weirdly I needed to tell him the truth first. "In all honesty" I started, hands playing with the Wolf teddy given to me by Damian "I'm having some relationship trouble and I don't know what to do about it." Robin's back got impossibly straighter "Problems?" He said through gritted teeth, like he was in pain. "What kind of problems?" I gripped the Wolf harder "I don't think my boyfriend loves me anymore." Tears started to fall down my cheeks as Robin sucked in a breath next to me. He looked just as shell shocked as I felt admitting the fact out loud. Robin placed his arm over my shoulders and drew comforting circles on my arm. "What makes you think that?" Robin seemed to really struggle to ask the question, I found it even harder to answer. "I'm not a priority to him anymore, if I ever was. He's constantly creating excuses not to see or talk to me. Damian is keeping so many secrets from me and there's never ending lies." Tears were falling freely from my eyes now, I didn't care if Robin saw them anymore. Robin was shaking his head, but I finished my ramble about mine and Damian's relationship before he could get a word in "I think there may be another girl." Robin looked stricken, panicked, immediately voicing his disagreement with my conclusion. "I can assure you that is not the case at all" his hands are on my face, trying to get me to look at him but I keep my gaze averted. "How would you know?" Venom tainted my voice. I didn't want to be mean but how on Earth would Robin of all people know of Damian's feelings. Robin called my name, desperation plaguing his words. When I still didn't look at him, too angry to dare, he called me by my nickname "Habibti."

My head whipped round to face Robin's. "What did you just call me?" Instead of answering me, he covered my hands with his and directed them towards his domino mask. "What are you doing?" I ask hesitantly "It's okay, Habibti." I slowly peel away the mask to reveal my boyfriend's face. "I can assure you that I do love you Beloved, more than anything." Damian moves my hands to cover his heart "I'm so sorry my actions have made it seem otherwise. You mean the world to me, Habibti." I moved away from him, sitting on the opposite side of the bed to him. "You lied to me." I said. This was obviously not the reaction Damian was hoping for because the calm that had passed over his face once I removed the mask had quickly turned back into panic. He said my name softly and tried to get closer to me. I clambered off the bed in an attempt to get away from him. "I think I need some time." Damian looked as if I'd just burnt down his whole word and moved towards me again. I retreated back a step, halting his movements and causing more anguish to paint his face. "No." I said "Damian, I need some time to think. Please give me that time." He simply nodded his head, fixed his mask back into position and left through my open window.

I chose to keep Damian's Gotham Academy Orchestra hoodie on as I slipped back into bed, cocooning myself in my duvet and replaying the scene that just occurred over and over again in my head. What was I going to do. What was I supposed to do. I grabbed my wolf teddy and clutched it tighter to my chest. I had no idea what the next move I was going to make was, but I knew I had to decide soon.

[gucciwins]

a talk show and a surprise 

word count: 1827

a/n: okay, don’t know if you’ve seen haley lu richardson being surprised by nick jonas on FaceTime during an interview and it gave me this idea, and it’s something short and sweet i hope you enjoy, mis amores 

_____

Talk shows were not your specialty, in your opinion. It felt weird talking to a host and having a live audience told to react at different cues. After appearing in the second season of The White Lotus, there was promo to do as expected. Still, there was a new population of fans following your Instagram tripling your following weeks since the show premiered. Your content was being shared as fans deemed you “real” for posting after-running selfies, photos of you cuddling your parent’s corgi they got after all their children left home. Their favorite was a video of you crying on your living room floor to “fine line” as it played on your record player.

It’s a video that managed to be shared thousands of times. To top it off, your best friend decided to offer them a new treat by posting a video of you at Harry’s Wembley show, happily dancing in the rain. The video ended with you pointing to the stage, screaming that you loved Harry Styles. You were obviously a fan, but your paths never crossed, not that you were surprised you still felt like you were getting your footing on what stardom meant. While Harry literally had the entire world charmed.

Bee assured you it would be fine; a few questions, a few stories, and it would be over. She prepared you for the mention of Harry because hosts loved the views and a good clickbait. It wasn’t your first time and would definitely not be your last. Jimmy Fallon was an angel, and you would be fine.

“Welcome our guest for the night, Y/N Y/LN.”

You walk out dressed in a beautiful black velvet mini dress. It features a lace bib with scalloped trim, diamonte piping, and satin bows. It had a flowing mini-length skirt with romantic blouson sleeves. You loved it from the moment you put it on and knew the crowd would eat it up as well.

Jimmy welcomed you with a hug and gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. “It’s great to have you here, Y/N.”

“Well, thanks for having me.”

Jimmy laughs going on to share about your past works and how you are a well-loved guest on the show.

“White Lotus is just amazing. You’re an absolute stand-out.”

You laugh, trying not to get too flustered as the audience cheers loudly for you. “Thank you. I have had the absolute best time. There’s nothing better than getting to film with Aubrey Plaza and Jennifer Coolidge.”

“While in Italy,” Jimmy adds on.

“The cherry on top.”

Jimmy leans closer, “now tell me, were you even a little bit nervous.”

“Oh, I was a mess. I was sure they cast the wrong person, but Bee, my manager, assured me that they thought I was the perfect fit.” You shared thinking back to when you first heard you got the role.

“Heard Aubrey Plaza got you a gift.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he brings out a photo of you with a signed headshot of Aubrey. “A little birdy told her I was a fan. There was a note that said: Now you don’t have to be nervous around me.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s framed in my house.” You share. Not at all lying. “The cast was so welcoming. There was not one bad day. Aubrey really took me under her wing, and yeah, one of my best experiences ever.”

Jimmy holds a hand over his heart, “that’s amazing to hear. It can be seen through the show, so if you haven’t watched it, you can head over to HBO Max and watch the talented Miss Y/N Y/N and the rest of the cast. We’ll be right back.”

After a short break you spent with Jimmy laughing and having your lipstick touched up, the cameras were ready to roll.

“Now, Y/N, I was told you love concerts.”

You nod, “I live and breathe them, Jimmy.”

“Who have you seen recently?”

“Oh too many, my good friend Phoebe Bridgers, Haim, oh Wolf Alice was wonderful recently in Los Angeles. My social media is a surface level of the few I’ve gone to this year. I drag my friends to different shows all the time. They love it. It’s the easiest place to fall undetected. At least I don’t think I’m famous enough to be recognized,” you joke, knowing it’s relatively easy to blend in a crowd when you are not the main star.

“Come on now, all these fans in the audience would say otherwise.”

The chant for you is loud, and you take a moment to take it all in. You’re quick to undermine your talent, but it’s clear that you have an audience that loves you.

“Now, what do you have to say about that?” Jimmy smiles, sensing how the cheers made you tuck into yourself for a moment before you began to blow kisses to the fans, thanking them endlessly.

“It’s surreal. Something I definitely don’t take for granted.”

The interview has been moving on smoothly, Jimmy asking you questions about the show and a few about your childhood. You're thankful he doesn’t have new childhood pictures of you to show. Your mother does that proudly on her Instagram.

“Now, you know we have to talk about this viral video of you.”

“Oh no,” you gasp.

Jimmy and you turn to look at a screen playing the video of you standing in one of Wembley’s boxes, dancing to Harry Styles as he sings to a sold-out stadium. It was a special day because your best friend surprised you with tickets that Bee helped her get. You had been working when tickets went on sale and were heartbroken to hear they were sold out nights. Thankfully, Bee has enough connections that she managed to get you tickets

“That is you at a Harry Styles show.”

You feel your face warm, hoping this interview will never reach him. “Looks like me.”

Jimmy shakes his head, “was that your first time?”

“Nope! It definitely won’t be my last,” you share honestly.

He shakes his head, “I’ve been to my fair share, and boy does he put on a hell of a show.”

“He really does. He’s created such a wonderful environment for many I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Jimmy grins mischievously, “I have a little surprise for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “is it a mug with his face on it?”

The audience and Jimmy laugh. You’re too distracted and don’t notice Jimmy’s hand going under his desk until he calls your name. You’re met with a phone, and the shock quickly sets in.

“Hi, love.” A familiar accent you recognize instantly.

You look away from the phone pointed at you, instead bury your face in your hands as the audience's laugh rings loud. Harry’s laugh is the only one that stands out for you.

“That’s–hi,” you manage to breathe out, not believing that Harry was on a facetime call to you. You look around and manage to find Bee on the side. “Is this real?” You ask her, pointing to the phone.

She gives you a big grin and thumbs up. You can’t believe it.

“Are you surprised?” Jimmy questions, clearly knowing the answer.

“A bit,” you express breathlessly.

All the cameras are pointed your way, and you have to face him. Harry’s smiling, and you feel yourself melting in your seat as you can see his dimples clearly. This is not real. Your celebrity crush is not staring at you through what seems like your phone the close you look at it.

“Hi Harry,” you give him a small wave.

“How you doing, love?”

“Good, good. A tad bit embarrassed. Trying to remember how to breathe.”  

Harry laughs at your response.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Jimmy cuts in, knowing you’d probably stare at the phone all day, not wanting to hang up on Harry. “Harry has something he wanted to say.”

His green eyes shine bright, and you know he’s enjoying this conversation with you. “I just finished White Lotus.”

“Shut up! You did not!”

Harry nods, “absolutely did. My band and I would get together to watch it every Sunday. Gave us something to relax over during the tour. You were my favorite,” he confesses.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “This is not real.”

“I hope you can come to a show next year. I would love to meet you?”

“I’m there,” you promise him without a second thought.

Harry nods, “good, we’ll be in touch.”

“Can I tell you something before you go?” You look at Jimmy, then back at Harry.

“This is your call, Y/N. Go ahead.” Jimmy grins, urging you on.

“Harry, thank you. I know I can say that you are an absolutely amazing person. Thank you for creating such a welcoming and safe environment at your concerts. It, in some ways, feels like coming home. I mean, you surely didn’t have to do this, but you did, and I’m so thankful. You’ve always shared your kindness with the world from when you were just a teen to now, and it just goes to show how true and honest your character is. Send my love to your Mom. She truly raised a wonderful human being.”

The crowd awes, not having expected such an emotional confession, and neither were you, but you weren’t sure at the next opportunity you would have to tell him. Harry stares at you for a few seconds with flushed cheeks and a timid smile.

“Thank you, Y/N. That is so kind of you to say. I do hope we get to meet soon. I know we’d get on fabulously. All the best to you. Good night, Jimmy. Good night, Y/N.”

Harry hangs up the facetime, and you bring your hands to your face, not believing what just happened. That did not feel real. You hoped, looking back at it, you wouldn’t cringe with embarrassment.

“That happened,” Jimmy jokes.

You reach forward and grasp Jimmy’s hand tightly. “You are my favorite person.”

“After Harry Styles, right?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Obviously.”

____

After the surprise of a lifetime, you ended the interview and walked to your dressing room, where you tried to process what in the hell happened in the last half hour. Bee walks in with the proudest smile handing you back your phone.

“We’ll head out at twenty.”

You take the time to slip off your heels and rest on the couch, unlocking your phone and seeing you have three new messages. It’s all from a new contact that you know you did not have before today.

Harry S.

It was lovely chatting with you.

Heard you’re going to be in London in a few days, would love to get dinner with you.

This is Harry, by the way.

Yeah, it seemed your life was about to get very interesting.

[pimosworld]

Only if you catch me

Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!reader

Series Summary-You meet Frankie when you least expect it. Both of you hiding from your past and trying to find each other won’t be easy, but it’s worth it if forever is with him. 

Series Warnings- 18+,MDNI, NSFW, Angst, hurt/comfort, Slow-ish burn, Explicit Smut, D/S dynamics, canon typical violence, Tom is mentioned (but dead), The boys got the money, Frankie helping reader open up in the bedroom, mentions of past abusive relationships, recovering addict, PTSD, tough family relationships, healing through therapy, protective Frankie, protective TF boys, found family, reader is a photographer , no description of reader other than the nickname Flash. 

WC-7k (who am I?)

A/N- This introductory chapter got me so excited for this. I hope you love these two as much as I do.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 1. Aperture

This should be a simple shoot.

  In and out. 

  Easy enough to dust off the cobwebs and get your name out there in a new city. An amateur boxer about to go pro. He needs a promo bill for some huge fight he has coming up. The details don’t really concern you about why. It’s the who. 

  Capturing a good shot isn’t about the camera or the angle, it’s not even about the time of day or lighting. That’s all secondary to who and what is in front of the lense. The emotion makes the image feel one hundred times better than the camera could ever try to capture. 

  You figured this would be a good way to dip your toes back into working. 

  You're early. An odd habit you picked up from knowing that the most meaningful shots are captured when everyone’s guard is down. When the family is setting up or when the bride is hanging out with her friends. When everyone is too preoccupied to pose…that’s when the magic happens. 

  It’s a modest gym, warehouse style on the edge of town. Thankfully not far from your new apartment so you didn’t have to stress about still not knowing your way around. Judging by the minimal trucks in the parking lot it’s a private shoot. That helps your nerves settle a little more not having to be in too large of a crowd. 

  You can tell you’re stalling so you brace your hand on your tote bag and the other on the door handle and haul yourself out of the old green Jeep. The most tried and true possession you own besides the Nikon Z nestled neatly in its case. 

  ****

  Low rumbles of men’s voices hit you when you enter the gym. The scent of sweat soaked leather and old wooden floors. The faint hint of liniment and gym mats. 

  The front desk is empty but you wait there for a brief moment. Taking in the clean front entry way  with various pictures on the wall. Some posed and some candids of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. Just beyond the desk is a large framed photo of some of the men and one brunette clad in military gear. 

  A huge roar of laughter sounds from the other room, a welcoming sound that you feel yourself being pulled towards. So you take a deep breath, shrugging your strap higher on your shoulder and venture towards it. 

  You wanted to look nice,professional on your first job. Now the heels clicking against the wood, signaling to the men that a woman is approaching seems like the worst idea you’ve ever had. All eyes land on you as you enter the main area of the gym. There’s two men in the ring. One man is hunched over, dripping sweat as he looks like he ran several miles. A tall blonde leans on the ropes, looking the opposite of exhausted as he does nothing to disguise the way he rakes up and down your form. A huskier version of him is making his way towards you, a look in his eyes almost like he’s stalking prey, yet there’s something familiar there and it dawns on you that they were in the photo. 

  Another man across the room leans against the wall, his broad back turned away from everyone while he talks on his phone. His hand flits nervously to the back of his neck as he continues his conversation in hushed words. 

  “You’re early. I like that.” The man extends his hand and you compose yourself briefly to offer a former handshake than he expected. You can see it in his eyes as he releases it. “I’m Will, that’s my brother Ben in the ring that you’ll be taking photos of.” 

  “Hi sweetheart.” Ben blows you a kiss with his gloved hand and you raise your eyebrows at the forward gesture. Handsome, cocky, definitely not your type. 

  “Ignore him.” 

  “It’s kind of my job to do the opposite.” You offer up as you make your way to an open bench and he laughs genuinely. 

  You can feel the nerves rolling off you in waves as you open your bag to set up your camera. You know they’re watching, waiting for instruction and something about having the cool heavy metal in your hand always turns you into a bit of a bossy bitch. You don’t mean it but you can tell around these men you’ll have to hold your own or run the risk of being treated like a joke. 

  Will had already gone over in great detail via email what his vision was for Ben’s promo. The man was meticulous in his description of how he wanted his brother to look. You could tell how much he cared about his image in the way he wanted you to capture his youthfulness and passion for the sport. You didn’t need any further direction when you squared up alongside the ring. 

  “You here to capture my boyish good looks?” Ben flexes his muscles as you take a photo catching him slightly off guard. 

  “Just pretend I’m not here.” You gesture towards the other man in the ring who’s finally gained some composure. 

  “That’s James, don’t worry about him. He likes getting his ass kicked.” 

  “Oh…I guess you would know.” Ben scoffs and Will has to hide his smile behind his hands at your banter. Not one to back down from a little teasing and unbeknownst to Ben capturing candid photos while he tries to flirt. 

  You flit your eyes to Will in a silent communication. 

  “Ben! Focus please.” 

  It’s almost immediate the way he switches to fight mode. Dancing around his opponent, toying with him like he’s a child. He doesn’t seem phased by the snap of your camera as you take a few test shots. 

  The way he bites his lip when he’s squaring up his opponent. How he bounces left to right when he doesn’t have a good shot. Maybe only you notice because you’re watching him so intently when he realizes he’s found his opening. His vision zeroes in and his movements cease. 

  That’s when you take the shot. 

  “He’s too photogenic.” The low sultry voice registers behind you but it doesn’t cause you to startle. 

  “Disgustingly so.” 

  He laughs, and there it is again. The boldened, unadulterated laugh that these men have a lock on. 

  You don’t have to turn around to know the mysterious voice is accompanied by the man that you’ve been eyeing since you got here. He’s confident enough to penetrate your bubble of safety to occasionally peek over your shoulder as you check the shots you're getting. 

  If he notices you flinch at the sound of leather meeting skin he doesn’t say anything. 

  “It’s a shame such a handsome face chooses to subject itself to such torture.” You say as you continue to adjust the angle. He glances over to you, watching you work. Trying to keep his eyes off your legs exposed in your knee high sundress. 

  His body is closer to you now, this stranger. 

  “He doesn’t make a habit of getting hit.” He smirks when you look at him and there’s no cover for you as your lips curl into a smile. “It’s easy to not pretend that he’s so good looking.” 

  “Don’t sell yourself short.” 

  He looks at you then as he brushes his fingers along his lips. Chocolate brown eyes piercing into you and you can’t help but snap a picture. 

  It’s brief. The moment of apprehension from him as you study the photo on your lense camera. This stranger is awaiting your approval. Likely not having his photo taken in such an intimate setting in quite some time. Another one of the handsome men from the front desk picture. 

  It takes you by surprise when you see it. 

  If he notices he doesn’t say a word. 

  He’s beautiful. An old world beauty with all hard lines and soft eyes. He sidles up next to you and the warmth emanating from him is enough to have you delirious. 

  “So…what’s the verdict?” 

  You bite your lip and hold on as you glance up at him. His mouth slightly parted in an o shape as he watches you release it. 

  “You’re a natural.” 

  “Francisco.” 

  You give him your name and he says it like a command. 

  “Hey, I’m not paying you to take pictures of his ugly mug.” Ben’s voice cuts through the little moment you were having with him as he flips his friend off, looking a little sheepish at having displayed it in front of you. 

  You send him an apologetic look as you get back to work. You occasionally check the images to make sure the lighting isn’t off. It’s glaringly obvious that Ben is posing and it’s throwing you off. You want him to look more natural but instead it’s coming off like a cheesy catalog. 

  “So…you borrowing that camera from Andy?” There’s that voice again, so close to you and you can’t deny it does something that you wish it wouldn’t. 

  You smirk glancing down at the black and white label just above your lense. 

  ANDY

  “No, that’s her name…Andromeda.” Offering up no further explanation you continue shooting, walking around the ring because you have to find a way to work around Ben's chaos. 

  He’s following closely behind as his heavy footsteps creak on the old wood floors. His arms crossed against his chest as you look over your shoulder. His face reads exactly what you would expect from purposefully leaving someone in the dark for your own amusement. 

  “Andy because Andromeda wouldn’t fit…Andromeda was rumored to be the most beautiful and…” You trail off as you admire it in your hand. “She’s the most beautiful in my collection and the most important to me.” 

  Running his tongue over the front of his teeth you think he wants to make fun but it’s quite the opposite. You’re distractingly beautiful and cute and if he was feeling adventurous he’d call you Andromeda but he’s not confident enough to dish that one out. So he stays quiet. 

  Too quiet. 

  You’re panicking thinking how you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of this handsome man and you should back pedal. Explain away your ramblings because you’re so used to not being understood. Yet he surprises you. 

  “I have a heli named Lucy.” 

  He mentions all casually and you have to register that he means helicopter. Subtle 

  “Francisco.” 

  “Frankie, my friends call me.” 

  “Frankie…you own a helicopter?” 

  Will stepped into the ring to let Ben know he can stop torturing James. Frankie has to thank his friend as he sees him grab Ben to keep him from intruding on one of the best conversations he’s had in awhile. 

  “It’s not meant to be a brag, but yes.” 

  You hum in approval as you turn to look at him. Your eyes pin him to the spot and he feels his face grow hot. 

  “Lucy is a lucky lady.” 

  It’s the gleam in your eyes. The way his stomach does a flip when he gets a whiff of your perfume. He’d throw away all notions of the cliche love at first sight because maybe he finally sees how it’s possible. It also welcomes another uneasy feeling. The feeling that people are so quick to settle for less, something he’s done most of his life because that’s what he thought he deserved. His last few relationships he settled just to feel comfortable and one of those almost took him under. 

  “So did you turn me into a model or what?” Ben slaps Frankie on the back and he’s never wanted to strangle him more. “Or what.” Mumbled under his breath and he catches your smile ear to ear. 

  You don’t answer as you see Will approaching already knowing who has the final say. 

  Ben’s ribbing him, sending all sorts of suggestive eyes at Frankie as he wraps his sweaty body on his shoulders and you slink away to handle business. 

  ****

  “These look great.” You know Will is being nice when it comes to your work…you don’t want nice. You want honest. 

  “They could look better.” He snorts as he looks over at his brother shadow boxing Frankie.

  “Tell me more.” 

  ****

  You’d said your goodbyes and made your way out of the gym with your dignity intact. Stepping out into the parking lot to take the first deep breath in over an hour. 

  Will was thoroughly impressed with the photos. So impressed that he asked you…practically begged you to photograph Ben's upcoming fight. You think this may have just been an audition for that but you can’t be mad since he paid you for today and you got to meet Frankie. 

  He could sense your apprehension and assured you that the fights are nothing but professional and he would be there if you had any concerns. Of course you were secretly hoping Frankie would be there as well. 

  Since moving to Tampa Florida a year ago you knew dating was out of the question. The dramatic fashion in which you ended up here was enough to have you swearing off all forms of a relationship. As the months passed and you watched your savings dwindle you knew it was only a matter of time before you picked up your camera again and tried to find that sliver of hope that you hadn’t lost the passion for something you once loved. 

  Meeting Frankie was unexpected and it makes you wonder if you’re even ready for this. It seems you’re getting a little ahead of yourself because all you received when you left him was a polite nice to meet you. You didn’t miss the way his friends looked at him as though he had more to say. 

  You put the keys in the ignition of your old Jeep praying to anyone listening that it will still turn over. You know it’s on its last leg but you definitely can’t afford a new car right now. The weak ac blows in your face as it roars to life and you curse yourself for having chosen a place so humid that everything clings to you to the point of suffocation. 

  Your phone is buzzing in your tote and you already know who it is before checking. 

  “Hi Dom.” 

  “How’d you know it was me?” You take a long pause and hear her chuckle on the other end. 

  “Dominique, you’re the only person I talk to.” 

  Your sister, the only family member you can still stomach talking to. The only sane one who understood your struggles and didn’t dismiss your need to separate from your toxic mom and stepdad. 

  You felt bad leaving her behind but she had a family of her own that kept her afloat. Her wife Elise and your adorable nephew Casey were the only family you acknowledged at this point. 

  “So how was the shoot?” You can hear it in her voice. You know what she’s really asking. Are you okay?

  “It was great honestly.” You pause long enough for her to seem worried. She always worried, being your older sister. 

  “Hmmm.”

  “I’m being honest. It went a lot better than I thought. I was having second thoughts at first with this being my first one, but the second I started it was like riding a bike.” 

  “And you were fine with the fighting?” A beat of silence. 

  “Yes…it wasn’t really fighting, more so just throwing a few punches and dancing around.” You clear your throat. “The boxer is actually a sweetheart. His friend and brother were there too and they were really nice.” 

  “Ohhh tell me more about this boxer.” 

  “Oh no he’s not the one.-“ You hadn’t stopped yourself in enough time to catch the way you specified that there was one. 

  “The brother…wait no let me guess.” You groan at your sister’s incessant detective skills. “It’s the friend isn’t it?” 

  “It’s no one actually.” Which isn’t quite a lie. “Oh shit.” 

  You hear your sister frantically asking what’s wrong when you see Frankie exiting the gym. It looks like he’s coming right towards you but maybe he’s just parked near you. You don’t seem to be that lucky when he rounds the side of your car and taps on the window. 

  “Give me a sec Dom.” 

  You roll down the window as you try to calm your beating heart. He leans against the side slightly ducking to shield himself from the sun and you notice how snugly his shirt fits around his bicep. 

  “This Jeep has to be almost twenty years old.” He glances in at the pristine interior admiring your mini camera charm hanging from the rearview mirror. 

  “Wow, we’re starting off with insults.” You smile and he can’t help the way it’s already so easy with you. 

  “It was meant as a compliment.” The way he drops his voice and his close proximity has you sweating, or maybe the humidity is taking over. “Anyway…I just wanted to let you know I’ll be there on Friday. Will said you seemed a little nervous.” 

  You groan as you hide your face in your hands “Was it that obvious?” 

  He hesitates as he looks at the worry lines between your brows, wanting to smooth them out with his thumb and he thinks me might actually be losing his mind over you. “No…I’m sure it was fine.”

  Fine

  He removes his cap as he runs his fingers through his hair and it’s not evident if he’s doing it on purpose or if it’s a nervous habit but you wish he would stop looking so handsome. 

  “I look forward to seeing you and Andy on Friday.” His eyebrow arched and his lips curled up into a smile. 

  You plop your hands dramatically on the steering wheel. “I’ll be the awkward one with a camera if you can’t find me.” You both laugh and a moment passes as you wait for something, you’re not sure what. “Bye Frankie.”

  You roll up your window and sigh at the cool air hitting your damp skin as he takes one last look at you over his shoulder. You think he’s heading to leave but he retreats back into the gym and you realize he came out here looking for you. You are so fucked. 

  You shakily hold the phone up to your ear. “Dom, you still there?”

  A shriek echoes in your ear as you hold the phone away. 

  “I’m deaf now…are you happy?” You can practically see her face on the other end. All teeth and tongue as she tries to contain her sarcasm. 

  “Who’s Frankie, how does he know about Andy? What’s happening on Friday?” She’s spiraling now and you don’t have the patience to sit in this parking lot any longer. 

  “I gotta go Dom, I’ll explain later.” 

  “Don’t you dare hang up-“

  ****

  Friday

  You’d been nervously counting down the days leading up to the fight for several reasons. The thought of seeing Frankie again and the fact that Will had a lot of confidence that you were going to be perfect for the job. Despite never having watched a professional fight let alone photographed one terrified you. 

  Blood made you squeamish and the thought of possibly witnessing any broken bones had you sweating through your shirt. 

  You’re early again but Will was impressed by that. The fight is being hosted at a much larger gym so you wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost on the way. Giving yourself a once over before hopping out of your car with your tote and Andy in tow. 

  Heels didn’t seem appropriate for a fight so you went for a casual look of jeans and some thrifted tee shirt from ages ago that had Mike Tyson on the front. 

  Going anywhere alone always gives you anxiety but you muster up the courage to head inside. The moment you step through the door it’s an assault on your senses. The unmistakable scent of stale sweat and cheap cologne greets you. There’s a lot of people already here crowding around the ring and taking their seats. The air vibrates with a hum of conversations, discussions of strategy and predictions. 

  There’s a clear divide of supportive colors, some people clad in red and other patrons in all black with Miller boxing on the back of their shirts. 

  You’re thankful no one seems to notice you as you mill about searching for that one familiar face you’re hoping is here like he said he would be. 

  You’re taken aback by a promo poster of Ben along the wall. The image of the tall blonde flexing with his arms raised, looking proud as a peacock was definitely a photo you took the other day. Whoever designed the poster did an amazing job at not taking away the raw charm of the original photo. 

  “Admiring your work.” Will steps up next to you, arms crossed as he stares proudly at the photo. 

  “This poster looks pretty good for such a quick turn around.” You told him with a genuine smile. 

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I dabble here and there with photoshop.” 

  He notices you glancing around him, a small smirk gracing his features. “Looking for someone?”

  This isn’t the first time you notice how obnoxiously intuitive he is. “No, just taking in the scenery.” It’s a lie he'll let you get away with for now. 

  “I’m actually glad you’re early, if you don’t mind snapping some shots of Ben in the locker room.” He gestures towards the large double doors across the room. 

  You have to laugh at him. “I don’t mind doing my job, Will. It’s what you hired me for right?” 

  He starts walking and you follow close behind. “Sorry, I’m used to giving orders to men and asking for permission from women.” 

  “Will, please don’t ever apologize for that.” You add before he opens the door stepping aside to usher you in. His presence is so reassuring, it’s dizzying being around men that actually make you feel safe for the first time since you left home. 

  Will whistles and it echoes off the walls in the locker room. Ben glances up from his hands being taped and shoots you a nervous smile. You can tell his attitude is in fight mode, his adrenaline no doubt focused on his opponent. The bouncing, jovial man from the other day is subdued, concentrating on the task in front of him. 

  Your hands instinctively reach for your camera  to capture the pre-fight moments. There’s a woman taping his hands with red hair and strikingly beautiful green eyes. She doesn’t seem to mind as you close in on their space to get a shot of her intricate tape. Ben’s hands shake slightly but he does his best to hold them still. 

  He’s clad in all black shorts and shrugs off the Miller boxing shirt when she’s done taping. He can’t help himself as he turns to you and flexes. 

  “I think this is your signature pose.” You say as he turns to his brother, sending him a look of  ‘I told you so’. 

  “Don’t encourage him.” The woman adds as Will slides up next to her planting a kiss on her cheek. 

  “I think you both forgot why she’s here.” Ben gestures to you. “Yours truly is the main event.” 

  “I don’t know how the other guys gonna fit in the ring with Ben and his ego.” Will and the woman laugh as Ben looks less than amused and you snap a photo, candids being your favorite. 

  “I’m sorry, excuse my manners.” His hand placed gently along her lower back as he ushered her towards you. “This is my wife Amber.” 

  She raises her eyebrows at him as you offer your name and you look slightly confused as Ben scoffs. “I’m his fiancé, but I should be flattered at how eager he is to be my husband.” 

  “Wife has a better ring to it.” He leans in kissing her again and Ben just groans. 

  “They’re like this all the time. It’s obnoxious.” He says with mock disgust. 

  You snap another photo of the intimate moment, since they didn’t protest the first. I think it’s beautiful. 

  ****

  Still no sign of him

  But you can’t think about that right now as Benny prepares to enter the ring. The bright lights surrounding the room and the raucous noise is starting to get to you but you take a few deep breaths and hope you can hold out. 

  Amber and Will are preoccupied on the sideline, hyping Benny up as he sized up his opponent. Who somehow seems two times the size of the young blonde. Something tells you not to underestimate him as the stone cold look washes over his features, making anyone who stands in his path sorely regret it. 

  The crowd roars as the bell signals the start of the fight. Your camera poised and ready with your nerves and excitement swirling in equal measure. If you thought Ben sparring the other day was bad, you were wildly unprepared for the sound of the first blow to his opponent’s face. You wince behind your camera flash as the distinct grunt of a possible broken nose is evident. Ben takes a wide shot to the ribs but he doesn’t falter. Blow after blow and it seems you’re getting more comfortable with the onslaught of violence for some odd reason. 

  Perhaps it’s the way Benny has handled each one or the fact that you’re finally getting the shots you so desperately wanted the other day. He’s actually focused on what’s in front of him and not on you. You can drown out the rest of the noise besides Will's coaching and Ambers cheers of encouragement. The shutter of Andy is all you need. 

  “Sweetheart, you should take my picture.” 

  You recoil at the sweaty palm on your lower back and the pungent smell of cheap liquor invading your senses. It’s no surprise when you turn to see a random man, bloodshot eyes from too many long nights and too much booze. You already knew by the sound of his voice that it wasn’t who you’ve been expecting. 

  “No thanks.” You gesture to your camera. “I’m sort of working here.” 

  You continue to try and focus back on the fight as it seems Benny has him on the ropes and it’s not too long before the other man is going down. 

  He’s closer now, caging you against the ring as his hand threatens to move lower and everyone is too preoccupied to notice that you want to crawl out of your skin. 

  “Come on hun, you don’t have to be bitch.” The last part he practically spits at you and with his opponent keeled over momentarily Benny’s eyes flash to you like a caged animal. 

  You think for a brief moment he might jump over the ropes but he flashes you a wide grin and continues to back up as the ref gestures his hands for the countdown. 

  The pressure is suddenly off you and you feel like you can breathe again, as you whip around to see where he went. “You know you shouldn’t touch women without their permission.” Frankie’s large palm is gripping the man’s shirt as he struggles to get out of his grasp. 

  “Get the fuck off me Morales, I know you’re not gonna hit me.” Frankie's eyes flash to you briefly in worry, a signal that he knows this creep and doesn’t want to be associated with him. 

  Frankie drags him by the collar just out of earshot as he sees you turn back to the fight so as not to miss any important shots. 

  “Listen up Jones.” He grits out through clenched teeth. “You’re gonna get yourself in some real trouble one of these days.”

  “Hey, Morales I didn’t know she was your lady okay.” 

  “She’s not…” He lets out a sigh of frustration. “Just quit fucking around, I can tell you’ve been drinking again. If I don’t see you at a meeting this week I’m gonna throw you into the ring with Ben and see if he can knock some sense into you. Comprende?” 

  He releases him with force as he shrugs his shoulders, trying to smooth out his shirt. “Ya ya, you’ll see me.” 

  Frankie watches the man disappear into the crowd toward the direction of the bar and just shakes his head. You’re still there as the ref signals that Benny won the fight and he shoves his way back through to you on the sideline. 

  There’s a look of relief and something else on your face when you turn to him. 

  “Benny won!” You flash him a bright smile as he laughs to himself. 

  “He always does.” It’s said assuredly and proud as you turn back to the ring. His arms lean protectively on the ropes beside you, careful not to touch you but close enough where no one would try to push you out of the way. 

  You glance down at the monitor to take a deep breath as you feel him behind you. His woodsy cologne mixed with the fresh body wash wafts towards you. That mixed with the fact that he was so instantly protective of you has your head spinning. 

  Trying desperately to focus back on your job you realize the last shot Benny’s slightly blocked by the ropes. You let out a huff of frustration as Frankie leans down close to your ear. 

  “Everything okay hermosa? Is it Andy?” No it’s you

  You close your eyes as you let the deep lull of his voice calm you. The voice you’d waited hours to hear. The one you couldn’t stop thinking about since that first day. 

  “Ya everything is fine.” You laugh to yourself at his genuine concern for your most prized possession. “I just can’t see very well.” 

  He worries his lip hoping he’s not overstepping after your encounter earlier. “I have an idea.” 

  Intrigued, you turn to him as he gestures to the side of the ring. “Step up.” You tilt your head at him and he raises his eyebrows and points to the ledge. 

  “Frankie.” 

  “I promise I won’t let you fall.” You falter for a brief moment, but the crowd cheers as Benny runs around the ring and you can’t waste another shot. 

  He steps up behind you, careful not to touch until you’re ready as you take one hand and hoist yourself up with the rope. Your other hand is securely on your camera. You think you’re fine but the rope gives a little and you start to fall back but the breadth of his shoulders is right behind you as he instructs you to lean on him. 

  Your heart is going to pound out of your chest as you realize how intimately he has you wrapped up. His arms around your thighs hold you steady and yet you can tell he’s doing it with the utmost composure to make you feel comfortable. 

  Benny runs over to you, flexing his arms with his signature pose, coined by you. Your hands still aren’t moving and Frankie nudges you slightly. 

  “I’ve got you.” You sure hope he does for your sake. The way he’s looking at you and holding you right now, you don’t think you’d be able to stand up on your own. 

  You turn back to Benny and snap a few shots of his winning smile. 

  “Fuck me, the flash is on.” You make a few adjustments and disable the automatic flash. The bright lights surrounding the ring provide plenty of light amongst the room. 

  Frankie has to take a few deep breaths, especially when your choice of words has him thinking things he shouldn’t with your body as close to his as it could get. He’s trying to be professional, he did suggest this after all and it would be rude to take advantage of the situation. 

  He can tell you’re relaxing as you go back and forth between glancing at the screen and Benny. Your ass is perched  perfectly along his shoulder as his arms protectively bracket your legs to keep you upright against the ropes. He can smell vanilla and something familiar, even through your jeans which he’s grateful for, if not for them his cheek would be touching the smooth skin on your thigh. 

  The crowd starts to disperse as Will and Amber join Benny in the ring. Benny playfully jumps on his older brother as he shrugs his sweaty body off of him. Despite you not taking any more pictures Frankie still has you wrapped as they come over to join you. Amber sends you a knowing look and your face grows hot as you halfway pretend to look over photos. 

  “So…how did it turn out?” Ben bounds over with a gleam in his eye. Adorned with a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise untouched. 

  He leans on the ropes as you hold out the camera flicking through a few of your favorite shots. His arm draped over you and the sweat and adrenaline is rolling off him. You can’t be too upset, the man just single handedly pummeled his opponent like it was just another day. Frankie swats him playfully to save you from the post fight stench about to seep through your tee shirt. 

  “Sorry, he doesn’t really know what personal space is.” You glance down to Frankie and realize how ironic that statement is coming from the man who's been the closest to you physically in over a year. 

  “Oh shit, she got a perfect shot of me crushing his nose.” Ben jumps up and down as Will sends you a half apologetic look. 

  You’re slightly knocked off kilter as Frankie tightens his grip on you. 

  You look over to see another handsome dark haired man pulling himself up to the ropes next to you. 

  “Who might you be?” His aquiline smile and toned muscles rippled through his shirt as he grips the rope. You recognize him from the photo on the desk but opt to stay silent. Assessment was your strong suit and he seems like the type that likes a challenge. 

  Amber looks like she’s going to say something but doesn’t get the chance as you’re quite literally swept off your feet. Your grip on Frankie’s arm tightens as he pulls you away from the ropes and the sickeningly sweet man beside you. 

  “Relax hermosa, I’ve got you.” He gently sets you down and grabs your hand, pulling you even further from the prying eyes as you try to catch your breath. 

  ****

  Santiago points at you and Frankie as he shrugs his shoulders. Indignation dripping off his features. 

  “Oh, I know he’s frustrated when he’s gone non verbal” Ben teases as he ruffles Santi’s hair. 

  Will sidles up next to his fiancé, wrapping his arms around her as he leans in. 

  “You’re staring at her like a piece of meat babe.” 

  “Sorry.” She hisses under her breath. “It’s just…she would be perfect for the wedding.” 

  “I know, but why don’t we give her some space. Let her get settled in.” He nods his head toward the two of you. “Also maybe give Frankie a chance to ask her out before you ask her to photograph the wedding. It would be awkward if she said no to him.” 

  “How do you know he’s asking her out?” 

  Will lowers his voice as Santiago raises an eyebrow at him, doing his best to pay attention to Ben and eavesdrop. 

  “Look at his stance, he can’t stop moving from one foot to another.”

  “He’s taken his hat off twice.” 

  “Now his hands are in his pockets, and I can almost guarantee he’s sweating.” 

  ****

  You’re not sure what to do as he stares at you. His scent envelopes you even now that you’re apart. 

  Frankie clears his throat awkwardly as he bounces from one foot to another. He’s nervous and you’re not entirely sure why, seeing as though you’d spent the better part of the fight attached to his shoulder. 

  “I ugh…hope this wasn’t too traumatizing for you.” 

  You laugh as you dip your head. “It was definitely eventful. But you made it a lot easier to handle.” 

  He tries to hide his smile as the red creeps up his neck. His obvious nervous tick as he takes off his hat for the second time, running his fingers through his hair. You have the sudden wild urge to do it yourself as you busy your hands with the hem of your shirt. 

  “We usually go out for drinks after his fights to celebrate.” He leaves it open ended as he watches you visibly tense. 

  Shit 

  Shit

  “It’s been a really long day.” Not entirely a lie. 

  You can see his demeanor go from nervous wreck to utter panic and you can’t leave him out on a limb. 

  “Listen Frankie, I have to be honest with you. I don’t drink. I’m not a buzzkill or anything but…”

  “I’m sober.” He doesn’t mean to shout it at you but it comes out all rushed and now he can feel the sweat dripping down his back. “If that changes anything, if not I understand.” Frankie feels like he’s scrambling and realizing how much easier this was when he wasn’t sober. 

  You let out a sigh of relief as you glance to your right at the small audience huddled around the ring. Santiago quickly turns around while Amber and Will do an awful job of seeming interested in the ceiling. Benny flashing you a thumbs up as you chuckle to yourself. 

  “I would love to join you guys, another night maybe. I think I’ve had enough action for one day.” You hope the open ended invitation isn’t completely shutting you off from any chance with Frankie. 

  Every nerve ending in his body is screaming at him to stop but you do something to him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. That small subconscious part of his brain knows if he leaves it like this he may never work up the nerve to say something. 

  “Would you be up for dinner? Maybe sometime next week?” His voice cracks a little at the end like he’s some kind of pubescent boy. If the floor could swallow him whole or Benny could come over and just put him completely out of his misery that might suffice for the next few weeks. 

  You bite your lip, consciously or unconsciously. He doesn’t care either way. Some wild part of his brain wants to reach out and pull it down with the pad of his thumb. 

  “I would love to go to dinner.” 

  Relief floods his features and you have to fight the grin that crosses over your face. 

  “So it’s a date.” 

  Fuck a date. 

  You haven’t been on one of those in ages. 

  “Ya Frankie, it’s a date.” 

  He’s finally stopped fidgeting and he seems so much more confident now that you can really appreciate him. 

  You're both in your own little bubble of flirtation and you could care less who or what’s going on around you. 

  “Would it be okay if I hugged you?” 

  You smile. “I think after how close we were for the last hour it would be weird if you didn’t.” 

  His arms wrap around you instantly and that familiar scent is becoming so comforting for you. You have to fight the urge to deeply inhale as your nose is pressed against his chest. His touch is so delicate and grounding all at once and you fear you’ll grow to associate him with someone safe. 

  Why would that be a bad thing?

  The last time Frankie was this impulsive he got himself into a lot of trouble. This doesn’t quite feel the same as he tries not to inhale the scent of your shampoo as his cheek rests on the crown of your head. The way your body molds perfectly into his. The way he has to gain some level of composure when it comes to you and yet all reason has gone out the window. 

  It’s dizzying when you finally break apart. Your shoulder bag slipped slightly down and he reached over to secure it for you. 

  “Well, I should say bye to everyone.” 

  “I’ll do it on your behalf if you want to make a break for it.” He winks at you and your knees might give out right then and there. 

  Letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re a lifesaver Francisco.” 

  You wave goodbye to more than a few confused faces and exit the gym to a mostly empty parking lot, inhaling the fresh night air. 

  ****

  “Did she let you down easy?” Benny teases as his brother smacks him on the back. 

  “Yee of little faith gentleman.” Amber says as she directs her attention to Frankie. 

  “As a matter of fact, we’re going on a date next weekend.” 

  Amber squeals and Benny pats his friend in the back as Santiago looks thoroughly annoyed at still being left in the dark. 

  Will's phone pings in his pocket and he pulls it out, the widest shit eating grin plastered on his face. 

  “Our boy is a little rusty.” 

  All heads turn to Will confusion written among their faces. 

  “You’re gonna need her number if you’re gonna take her on a date, Fish.” 

  Okay, so maybe he was a little rusty but he had a date. With you. 

  “Alright boys…and Amber. Let’s get some drinks to celebrate.” Benny jumps over the ropes like it’s nothing and heads toward the locker rooms as the rest of the men follow. 

  “Is someone gonna tell me who she is!?” Santiago yells out to them as they all leave him seemingly in the dark. 

  At least for now, Frankie’s gonna keep you to himself. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Taglist- @sawymredfox @morallyinept

Next

[v4mp-reads]

Hello. I hope you had a great Christmas and New Year. I would like to request a Rhea X Pregnant Reader where reader is due in 3 weeks ( and with Twin babygirls if possible) and is backstage watching The Judgement Day open the show before getting up and walking to get something to eat before getting confronted by Karrion Kross and Scarlett who end up scaring her and sending the reader into early labor. If you can't thats perfectly fine. Thanks and Have a Great Day

Twist and turns

Rhea Ripley x prego!fem! Reader

Tw: struggles with Ivf problems, many failed attempts at pregnancy! Early labor! Small pregnancy complications

word count: 1.3k

Y/n’s pov

I sit in the judgment day locker room alone to say, this is the first time in 9 months I’ve sat in here alone, but no one could sit in because they had a big promo they had to do. I hold my stomach feeling my baby’s move around, I’m so excited to meet them, they are going to be welcomed into such a lovely family. I thought as my mind drifted off to the years before. Me and Rhea got married when we where both 21, that was almost three years ago, this has been a very long possess, i sat up countless nights crying because we picked up yet another negative test, this whent on for about two years until the day i remember it like it was yesterday.

Flash back

Me and rhea sit in our bathroom floor, “darling..you know if this test comes back negative we will have to wait at least six months before starting all of this over” she looked up at me as we wait for the five minutes to past “dont think like that baby. I have a felling this time” i whispered softly, smiling at her, i move from the tolet to her on the floor as she holds me. “Beep! Beep! “ the alarm had whent off, rhea whent to grab the test off the counter when it falls off onto the floor, i glance down at it to see two lines, TWO LINES! I instantly began to cry tears of pure happyness “Rhea! Its postive! We are having a Baby!!” She jumps up picking me up and spinning me around kissing me like a million times, we where so happy, this was actually happening. We stayed in the bathroom for about half our just crying with happiness. Soon we walked back to our room and called the judgment day group chat. They knew today was the day I was supposed to take my test, and we called them every time even when it was negative, we tryed to hide the smile on our faces. Dom was the first to pick up, we waited for the others to join before saying anything. “Hey y/n hi rhea what’s it say?” Finn asked in a soft tone not wanting to hurt us anymore if it was negative. I couldn’t help but smile and that’s when damien caught on “oh my god!! Wait?!” He said loudly over the phone the other two boys looked so confused. “A little baby Ripley is on the way!” I yelled. They all cheered, dom even started crying with me, “oh my god I’m so happy!” I cryed into Rheas shoulder. It was the best day of my life.

End of flash back

In three weeks I get to meet my little girls, three weeks, every thing is planed perfectly, Rheas family is flying out in two weeks, Rhea and the rest of the judgment day are getting a month off in two weeks, I’m just so happy, all this excitement made me really hungry, and I was out of snacks in the locker room. I know I’m not supposed to leave the locker room that was everyone’s rule the second they found out, just because people would bother me to get at the others

I started to feel sick so I needed to get up and get some food, I got up putting on rheas hoodie before walking out of the locker room, no one was really out, so I made my way to the where I know they had food.

I must have made some turn the wrong way because now I find myself in some random hallways that’s kind of scary, I get this wave of anxiety come over me and I feel like I’m being followed so I continue to walk faster, eight almost nine months pregnant with twins, it isn’t easy to walk fast, I quickly realize that I have to turn around this hallways was a dead end. I turn around and instantly get met with karrian cross and his girlfriend or what not Scarlett, “um..” I say softly “miss little y/n Ripley, how are you and your little baby’s doing” karrian reached out to touch my stomach, I quickly stepped back “please don’t touch me” I said fear clearly in my voice “don’t tell me what to do Mrs. Ripley, I will touch you if I want!” He reached out once more this time I backed up and I ended up cornered, “please leave me alone, I don’t want any problems” I start to panic “please, please don’t hurt me or my baby’s, they are innocent, they are pure” I begged. I started feeling horrible pains in my stomach, and I panicked “Mhmm, I don’t know, I don’t know how innocent they are, saying how long it took you to get pregnant with them, what was it I heard? Two years?and you have struggled your whole pregnancy” Scarlett spoke, tears came rushing out from my eyes “please! Leave me alone!” I yell the pain in my stomach becoming almost unbearable. “Hey?!” I hear someone yell, “what the fuck leave her alone” I look up to see one of my close friends Sami zayn. That’s all I really before I passed out.

“Is she okay, are my girls okay?!” I hear yelling as I wake up to see a bright light in my eyes.. “R-rhea..?” I mumble out, instantly her head shoots over to beside my head, “oh my god, your okay, darling, what happed! Why where you in that hallways, why did you leave the lockeroom?” She questioned me, “are the girls okay?” I asked simply, “maam, you are in late stage, early labor, we are transferring you to the hospital, where you should be able to deliver with mild complications.” All I could feel was the pain, from what I was guessing was contractions, it made my head spin. Rhea held my hand as I cryed out in pain as we made our way to the hospital.

We soon made it to the hospital, where I had to be taken in for emergency cessation surgery, i remember waking up to rhea hold our two little girls in both of her arms when I finally woke up. “How are they..”I asked weakly “healthy and absolutely beautiful..just like their mother”she said before carefully handing me the girls “Athena, she’s the one with the darker hair..and Kyra she’s the one with the birth mark on her cheek” Rhea said before kissing me “I love you, I love you three so much” I said softly. “If it’s okay, the boys want to come over in a bit, dom tried to force them to let him come in right after the delivery.” She said softly “of course our girls need to meet their uncles, what about your parents?” I asked her “they are heading down tomorrow” she said.

I slid over in bed as I laid there with rhea and my girls, all three of them sound asleep, it was so peaceful, well that was until the boys got there, dom come rushing through the door, almost tripping when he got in causing Rhea to wake up. “Good going dom dom” I joked and gave him a weak smile, to which he returned with tears in his eyes “why are you crying dom?” I asked “I was just so worried about you, I haven’t slept. I’ve texted rhea and the boys all day, and I just couldn’t wait to meet my nieces when rhea told me that you guys where healthy” he rambled on before Finn stopped him “don’t talk the poor girls ear off”, they all walked closer seeing the two small baby’s in my arms, them asking their names, and us continuing talking, they stayed there for about two hours before leaving because I was tired.

The end! Thanks for reading! If you liked it please leave a request of your own!

Xoxo, v4mp-

[aew-needs-to-do-better]

Need I remind you that it was CM Punk who twisted the events at All In and said that he calmly approached Jack and said ‘he didn’t punch anybody’ or how it was Punk who leaked to Fiteful saying that Jack pushed and bumped Punk first and Punk retaliated with a chokehold? He waited until Jack calmly put his hands in his hair to throw a punch. Jack backed up. Then Punk grabbed Jack’s hair in order to put him in a headlock ie not a sleeper. Jack stepped out. And then Punk threw more punches before Joe, Hook, Hero, and the ref grabbed them both. Shit lasted a couple seconds. But not before Punk lunged at Tony and knocked over monitors. And no, this was not the incident that made Tony fear for his life. That happened after Punk’s match with Samoa Joe.

Jack Perry did nothing wrong.

Like it was Punk who leaked that story to Nick Hausman about the story regarding real glass to save face after he went on another tangent to burry Hangman Adam Page. That is why Jack was mad. He leaked a story that made Jack look bad so Punk could make himself look better. In hindsight, I am starting to believe it was Punk that was spreading stories about AEW like wildfire to the press. Before Punk, there were rarely any leaks that didn’t involve Sammy Guevara. It’s no wonder that since then, no story has been leaked. No locker room gossip. Nothing.

Punk was a condescending piece of shit in a company built on the idea that the type of hierarchy where top guys like Cena threatening Gabbi Tuft, then Tyler Reks. That is why Hangman broke script to begin with and what that promo was about. Punk kept needling at everyone backstage and bring a piece of shit. And Page saw the culture change with Punk openly disrespecting his peers and pushing people off of AEW like Colt Cabana and using his position to get his way.

Now I’m questioning Brawl Out. I starting to think that the Elite didn’t kick down that door and start that fight. Now I think hotheaded and paranoid Punk escalated that confrontation after the Elite went to his locker room. If Punk has shown those little tendencies to twist a story in his favor like saying Jack bumped into him or confronted him or threw the first punch or was condescending to him when we were just shown footage that it was Punk who did it, I am starting to think Punk was always the problem. In fact, him getting ousted from WWE the first time is starting to make sense. Punk is a carny piece of shit with a fragile ego.

Tony should have not punished Jack at all. He should have fired Punk from the jump.

Should the footage have been shown? Yes. Punk is a fucking lying narcissist who prides himself on being the realest yet he,under the guise of being some guiding veteran, tried to sabotage Perry’s career and reputation. For months, Jack has been made out like some little bitch and all he did was back away and let some 40+ year old man throw a tantrum. The Scapegoat moniker makes sense. Maybe they should have released it online.

They didn’t mention Punk once. The Bucks have been referencing Jack for weeks now since they started this EVP gimmick. Their angle was to accuse FTR of only beating them at All In because of what happened with Jack while redeeming Jack and welcoming him into the Elite. That’s the story. At the same time, it was petty. Will this convince Pepsiman diehards? No.

And this had nothing to do with WWE. It had to do with a former disgruntled employee who lied. Good fucking riddance.

That being said, this show was uncharacteristically mid. The Jerichoverse should die and Mox, Page, O’ Reilly, Thunder Rosa, or fucking someone should have had a ten minute match. The card was disappointing overall.

But regardless, we can stop creating fanfic about this stupid overblown event. If Punk were anyone else, he would have been blackballed from wrestling along with Teddy Hart. There is no excuse for attacking your fellow employee. If it were anyone else, Punk would have been arrested for assault.

Still would have preferred to see a Takeshita match.

[muddyorbsblr]

a tale of ice baths and hot sauce

See my full list of works here!

Placement: the day after 'a sizing mishap'

Summary: An effort is made to find out who your mystery boyfriend is during the Elementals challenge when some members of the staff see some marks on your neck that weren't there before…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: mango mention (no really i did that here lol); bit of insecurity from Reader if you squint

"You think anyone would notice if I just pinched a chip from the bowl?" you joked while setting up the table for the Elementals-themed challenge that a handful of the Soccer Aid players were going to voluntarily subject themselves to with Joelah, the host for most if not all the promo videos for this event. You raised an eyebrow playfully at her when she approached the table with a giddy little skip in her step, practically twirling in her outfit of relaxed fit jeans and a diagonal cut asymmetrical crop top. "Please tell me where you go shopping I'm in desperate need of cuter clothes. I mean, 'raiding the boyfriend's closet chic' is cute and all but…I also drown in fabric whenever I do it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Y/N, I think you're faring pretty damn fine if I do say so myself." She waved a hand at your current getup of a cropped loose olive green halter top and a black ruffle skort. "Players seem to enjoy it well enough," she mumbled with a lower tone, as if warning you that you were currently being ogled. "Oy! Eyes on the ball, you pervy lads!"

"Thanks," you told her with a smile, pulling your hair into a ribbon so that it wouldn't stick to your sweaty neck. "Now…do you wanna share with the class why you were skipping--"

"Bloody hell, Y/L/N, your neck!" she gasped, pointing at the right side of your neck and collarbone. "You didn't have that when I last saw you yesterday--Oh my lordy me, you hooked up with someone here! Is it one of the players? That social media star on the World team? One of the pros? Sam Claflin??"

"No on all fronts, Jo," you laughed off her questions. "My boyfriend's working the event, too. I was with him." Her jaw dropped to the ground with your revelation. "We're keeping things a bit…low key, you know?"

"Oh you and your secrets," she teased, still motioning toward your neck. "If that isn't a sign that screams 'Horny blokes step the fuck back', I haven't the faintest idea what is. Anyways, what were you asking earlier?"

"Ah, right. I was gonna ask why were you skipping on your way here like you were back in school and teacher just gave you a gold star?"

"Oh…Oh! Because I just got the players for the Elementals Fire and Ice challenge and Number 6 lit'rally up and volunteered to represent Team England." She made a motion fanning herself. "That godly bod dripping wet and clothes just clinging to him? Lordy me have mercy. And whoever put him in the teeniest jersey and shorts imaginable, I just wanna eurgh! Wanna grab 'em and thank 'em to the high heavens, y'know? Thank 'em for their service."

You are very welcome, you thought to yourself.

"Maybe if you leave an iced coffee on the table and go pspspsps they'll acknowledge your gratitude," you joked, once again pointing to the chips. "I'm taking a pinch. And trying out these sauces, I've been deadly curious since yesterday."

"You take the green one, I'll take one of the reds," she offered, already getting a large chip for herself and placing a few drops of the brighter red condiment. When you had placed a dollop of the green hot sauce onto your own chip, you clinked your pieces together before taking thing whole and bracing for the worst. "Fuck all that is hellish!" she mumbled around her piece, eyeing you incredulously while you just continued on chewing and letting the taste of the sauce linger for a moment or two. "How in the…"

You grabbed all the bottles and looked over the labels with a scrutinizing eye. "The green's deceptive. Makes you think you're getting the milder one but it's got the highest level of Scoville units. I feel sorry to whoever's gonna end up with that."

There was some motion from the corner of your eye, which you quickly realized were the camera crew and some other members of the staff carting around numerous 10 gallon bottles of water and 3 drums. And following just behind them were the six players slated to play this little trivia game. You gave them all a little wave and a courteous smile, making sure to hold eye contact with each of them, and saving Tom for last so you could allow yourself the indulgence of holding his gaze for a fraction of a moment longer, which he returned with a small wave and an obviously deliberate infinitesimal twitch of his two middle fingers.

"Goodness, Y/L/N," one of the staff members, Allen, bellowed. "What happened to--"

"My neck?" you finished for him. "Don't worry about it. My boyfriend thinks himself a vampire," you answered with a casual shrug, earning you a round of chuckles from the rest of the crew and the players. You motioned toward the water drums. "Should we get that all set up then?"

"Oh. Yeah, for sure." He waved his arm toward the drums as well. "Have at it."

"I could help you," Scarlette chimed in, already taking the end of the drum in front of you and jutting her chin in the direction of your neck. "I didn't see that on you yesterday when I picked up my uniform. I take it your boyfriend's somewhere in the building then?" She capped off her question with a cheeky wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Yes, and I'm not saying a single word on where and who he is. But I won't deny it if anyone guesses correctly. The only catch though…you only get two guesses each," you offered, looking at both her and Joelah.

"Claflin," Scarlette spoke immediately, causing the other one to make a motion as if to stop her but all too late.

"Aaaaand that's one wrong guess. Also makes you the second person in this place to for some reason think that I'm bumping uglies with Finnick Odair."

"I could've told you it's not Mister Clock App, or Claflin…or any of the pros," Joelah grumbled out. "We're down to three."

You two set up the last of the water drums, making sure that they were equidistant from one another, and after thanking Scarlette you moved toward the massive water bottles to start filling them up. "Let me help you," Tom spoke up, already placing his hands under the bottle, brushing his hands across yours before taking most of the weight of the bottle and leading you both toward the drum. "You reckon they'll guess me, darling?" he asked under his breath.

"Absolutely not," you answered, keeping your voice down. "I don't think they'll even consider it a possibility that I can pull you."

"Personally I think you pull me just fine," he shot back, smirking when you had to suppress a chortle from his words. "More than fine, actually."

"Menace," you hissed, trying to covertly take deep breaths while the two of you walked to the next bottle and repeated the process.

"Only for you, sweetheart."

"Okay you must be built all kinds of different, because I don't think I coulda kept my wits about me being that close him with the guns on full display, and in close proximity to…what was it the internet called it again?"

"The mango?" you prompted Joelah, causing you both to break out in stifled giggles while waiting for the camera crew to finish setting up.

"Yes! And I saw that little hand brushing, too I mean—how were you not absolutely swooning the second he walked up to the bottle? Hell, how did you even function?"

I have been under those guns on full display and touched more than just his hand, you thought to yourself, holding your words back and instead gave her a little shrug. "Worked with him before. You get used to it," you bluffed. "Besides, I've got someone, and I'm really happy and stupid in love. So there's that, too."

"We need a hand here!" Scarlette called out in your general direction, her and Bugzy already on their feet but pointing at Tom who for some unknown reason, currently had both feet sticking up and out of the drum and putting him in a position that made it exceedingly more difficult for him to get up and out of the drum.

"How in the actual fuck did he even get like that?" you started thinking aloud. A strangled noise slipped from your mouth the second his head dipped below the water and his hands lost their grip on the edge of the drum.

You knew that he would be able to find his way back up, but it didn't stop the way your heart caught in your throat. The way that your legs were involuntarily twitching as if taking on a mind of their own and urging you to make your way to him.

If he hadn't stuck his head back out from under the water just a few seconds later, you would have been more than ready to run to him and help him to his feet, check on him the way he often checked on you when he would see you short of breath on set. You wouldn't have given a damn about the cameras capturing your every move.

But instead you were frozen in place, watching as he ascended and took a big heaving breath, shaking the water from his hair and his eyes before finding your gaze. You were suddenly acutely aware of nearly every minute movement of your body trying to fight back every reaction you had to the excessively obvious bedroom eyes he was giving you, resorting to subtly digging what little fingernail you had into the palm of your hand to at least focus on something else until he looked away.

You moved the moment you clocked the excitement on the faces of Joelah as well as some female members of the staff, already undoubtedly about to speak up that they would gladly help him out. "Can we cut?" you hollered toward the cameraman, who responded to you with a simple thumbs up, pressing a button on his equipment that stopped recording. You quickly whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of Tom in the precarious position before you reached him.

"Really, Y/N?" he huffed, feigning exasperation but you knew that tone better than any other person around you at the moment. He was amused. And you would be in trouble later tonight. You even began to doubt if you could completely walk properly in the morning or if you would walk into the briefing area with a more than slight penguin waddle.

"Had to," you quipped, shrugging your shoulders and scrunching your nose at him reflexively before placing your phone back in your pocket and holding your arms out toward him so he could brace himself. "Tuck your feet back into the drum."

You heard the slightest grumble from him before he wrapped a hand around one of your arms, did exactly as you said, and then wrapped his other arm across your shoulders while he tried to find his footing in the undoubtedly slippery interior of the water drum. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered under his breath, pulling you closer as you gripped the towel that was handed over to you and making quick work to spread it out and use it as a cover from prying eyes and wild cameras once his feet were firmly planted on the ground again.

The heavily curious gazes of everyone around you gave you enough pause to not wrap the towel around his waist, realization quickly dawning on you that the gesture would definitely be seen as a show of intimacy. You avoided his gaze as he took the towel from you, opting instead to lead the way to behind the backdrop, picking up his cleats and bag on the way.

You felt the irrational bristling of your skin as the sound of women giggling and commending your boyfriend on his form throughout the drills hit your ears, your hands finding it difficult to grasp the small laundry pouch you'd packed in his bag and a fresh pair of socks from the near violent shaking. When a familiar ridiculously large hand appeared in front of your face, you looked up abruptly to find Tom standing above you, the smile on his face growing brighter when you placed your hand in his and stood up.

"You're shaking," he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Come here."

He caught you off guard when he tugged you into his arms, a small yelp escaping you before you could stop yourself that had you hoping that nobody on the other side of the backdrop heard it. "What're you doing?" you questioned him in hushed tones, holding back your giggles as he pressed the fluffy sleeves of the bathrobe that he wore to your face and neck. Your hands wrapped around his wrist when he started patting at the exposed skin of your chest. "Sweetie!" You couldn't hold back your giggles when he used his free arm to wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

"You're wet," he said simply, continuing to pat at your dampened skin.

"Well I'm your girlfriend, it kinda comes with the territory," you quipped, letting out another barely muted squeal when he pulled his hand from your grasp and grabbed the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. Almost immediately you melted in his arms, both of you smiling against each other's lips as you wrapped your arms around him. "Private--"

"This is private, goddess," he cut you off, capturing your lips in another soft kiss. "Public would be bringing you to the center of the field and marking you again with everyone as witness so that there isn't a shadow of doubt in anyone's mind that you're mine."

The sound of the camera crew calling out for him snapped you two out of your moment. "Give me a minute," he hollered out, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before loosening his hold on you and letting you step back from him. You offered him your hand to hold himself steady while he changed out the soiled socks from the challenge. "Did you take a look at the hot sauces on the table?"

"Of course I did," you quipped, scrunching your nose at him when his eyes flickered to yours. "Don't take the green one, it's a trap."

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, eyeing you with a smirk when he stood upright and you took his shin guards from him. "And what exactly are you doing, darling?"

You answered him with a playful grin. "Oh I'm sorry. Would you like to try putting these on through two layers of fluff?" He answered you with a minute shake of his head. "No? Well alright then." You proceeded to crouch down and place the shin guards under the knee-high socks, only stopping when you heard a shutter from above your head and looking up at him from your position with a bemused smirk. "Really, Tom?"

"It needed to be done," he said with a chuckle, waving your phone tauntingly in his hand. "After all, you do look so tempting from this angle. Let me just send this to my phone really quick."

You made a point to audibly snap the garter of his sock against his skin, making him jump the slightest bit and squint his eyes at you as you rose to stand upright again. "Give it back," you cooed, holding your hand out. Instead of doing just that, he grabbed hold of your hand and closed the distance between you, placing your arm over his shoulder as his hands roamed down your back before settling in your back pockets.

Before you could say a single word, he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss and you could feel the weight of your phone back in your pocket. As well as his hand grabbing a handful of your ass before he pulled away. "I love you," he whispered, briefly brushing the tip of his nose across yours before stepping backwards, back to the set so that the World Team could have their turn at the ice baths.

"I love you, too." The sound of the crew calling out your name this time and telling you to come help in setting up the next batch was enough to wipe the smitten grin off your face and send you running in the other direction.

A/N: Starting off my 5-day weekend strong with a new Soccer Aid piece out! I have one more that I'm gonna focus on before I give Soccer Aid Hiddles a break from the page for a while to focus on…'relinquish the crown: plans & protestations'! 😳👀 It's been too long since I've written those two blorbos and I miss them so they're next 💖

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee

[sulfurz]

ೃ༄ VERY CONVINCING (edge x fem!reader)

ೃ༄ PAIRING: edge x fem!reader

ೃ༄ REQUESTED BY: @slutforoscarisaac

could you possibly write a one shot with heel!fem! reader and judgment day edge? edge wants reader to join judgement day but she refuses (cause she’s an independent badass) on live tv which pisses edge off. so after their segment edge follows reader to her locker room to convince her to join. if you could please add your little sprinkle of nsfw that would be amazing!

ೃ༄ WARNINGS: sprinkle of nsfw n slight aggression

ೃ༄ WORD COUNT: 2.6k

ೃ༄ NOTE: i have not proofread this so excuse how messy it is. it’s messy in general tbh i’m sO SORRY but my god i am very attracted to this man (i’m actually gay and ace but that’s just his power)

standing in ring, mic in hand as you listened to the boos of the crowd shouldnt been have exhilarating as it was. but as you surveyed the arena, one hip jutted out to the side to see the majority of those around you jeering and giving you disapproving gestures, you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. it probably seemed menacing to the crowd, a sadistic show that you felt no guilt for the betrayals you had done, but truthfully? you could get used to being so hated. most great wwe legends had this period in their career, and seeing your name up on this lists made it all worth it.

backstage, you had your friend and the crowds you stuck around. in the ring? the only allegiance you pledged was to yourself, and the audience were well aware by now that this loyalty to your own cause ran deep enough to turn on those who appeared to be your allies. you had a goal — the belt — and you didn’t care what you’d have to do to get to it.

“missed me?” you asked the wwe universe, satisfied with the heckles you received in response. your break had only been short, simply recovering from a surface wound doctors had advised needed time to heal over, but you had wasted no time in ambushing one of your fellow superstars backstage on your return, and the fans were shown once again you were back and undeterred from your backstabbing saga.

taking a few steps forward, your leant against the ropes that surveyed the right side of the arena.

“it seems in just a month you’ve all forgotten who runs this show huh? hope my little display reminded you all.” you growled out, voice as sultry as you could manage. you were a villain they loved to hate, after all. “i’m getting pretty fed up of you all doubting me. how many times do i have to prove i’m the best before you start to believe me?”

your taunts were welcomed with angry calls, coupled with the occasional fan who cheered as they stuck by your side. those that loved the underdog always made themselves known.

you were just about to launch into the purpose of your promo when the arena went dark again, and the first sign of trouble was when the animated wings spread ferociously across the screen at the back of the stage. really, with the track you were on, you should have expected this sooner.

still, nothing could have quite prepared you seeing the newly drafted judgement day appear at the opposite end of the arena to you, damian and rhea flanking their leaders side as edge honed his attention directly on you.

he looked so eerie in the dark, an unsettling feeling settling momentarily in your stomach as you dragged your eyes over the kingpin of the stable. he only smirked back menacingly as they made their way towards you.

as expected, playing their role as perfect lackeys, rhea and damian took their places either side of the ring, ready to jump incase you made a break for it — but not edge. oh no, he climbed into the ring gracefully, not stopping until he was a mere foot away from where you had returned to stand front and centre of the stage. from here, he towered over you, something you were sure on camera looked more intimidating than most things wwe had seen.

lifting a mic to his lips, judgement days leader began his proposition, not breaking eye contact once. “you’ve made your statement y/n. you’ve got what you wanted — an opportunity.”

after an intense stare down, edge stepped away from you, and suddenly you could breathe again as he paraded the ring in a circle around where you stood.

“you have a lot of things to offer: the heart, the mindset, the strength — but what you haven’t got? a lot of allies.” you daren’t turn your head fully to look at him, feeling how the intimidating (yet, gorgeous) man stopped behind you. all you were willing to give was a weak glance to your side to see rhea grinning in the darkness. “you could be so powerful if placed with the right people. you have everything it takes, but way too many enemies to take them all down at once.”

edge circled back around, acting like a vulture as it waited for its prey’s final breath. they were determined to wear you down, but you steeled yourself as you let the man continue.

“you have no aid, and when those you’ve betrayed turn on you — well.” edge chuckled to himself, sinister and gravelly in a way that went straight through you. “i’d hate to have a front row seat to your downfall when you could have had so much more.”

poking your tongue into the side of your cheek, you stretched out your neck as you inserted yourself back in the conversation. “your side getting cold, mister? need another body to warm your titleless stampede?” you sneered, finding satisfaction in the glare edge sent you in response. “if you think i’d join your faction just because i’m alone then you don’t know me at all.”

edge clenched his jaw, taking a step towards you as another chant was ignited amongst the crowd. “i know you’re a smart woman, y/n. i think you know we could be the leg up you need to finally take what’s yours. and i must say you’d be better to have us as allies than enemies.”

you pretended to mull it over, but your decision had already been made from the moment you saw them appear. you had gone it alone thus far, and if anything, it was now a matter of proving to yourself, and everyone who doubted you that you could do it.

“do you know what i think when i hear you talk, edge?” this time, it was you who took a step forward, crowding edge where he stood. you had to look up to speak directly to him, but your presence was large enough to veto the difference. “i hear a man who is scared. you all know perfectly well what i’m capable of. none of you could come out to face me one on one, so you just had to band together to prove a point.”

you clicked your tongue before continuing.

“that’s the difference between you and me. i’ve been doing this alone. my enemies don’t try to get to me because they know it’s a losing battle. and i’ll promise you something else,” you placed a hand against his chest for effect, sliding it steadily down until it rested on his sternum “when i win this, alone, without your pathetic help, you’ll be the first person i mention in my thank you speech.”

with that, you dropped your mic to the ground, giving an exaggerated curtsy that had long become your signature, before you clambered out of the ring and made your way down the catwalk to the familiar sound of your music. even those who hated you couldn’t help but cheer after the display, and you weren’t about to stick around to see how judgement day picked up the pieces of your rejection.

there was a certain level of pride in your actions, knowing you had stuck to your own guns. you had barely even faltered when cornered by the hall of famer, and you could use that as a testament to your determination. the congratulations you received from various superstars and company men as you headed backstage (even paul heyman stopped to praise you?!) certainly told the promo had been an overall success despite the interrupt.

there would be a lot to sort at a later date, surely some damage control that your manager would be responsible for, but for now you deserved a shower, and maybe some takeout.

the locker room welcomed you with a familiar squeak of the door, finding the room which you shared with just two others empty due to their lack of scheduling at the company tonight. these were you favourite shows, when you could stretch and take as much time as you needed, no fear of others bursting inside whilst you were kid costume change.

or at least, you thought.

it was just as you were brushing through your hair with your hands, a button down shirt hanging open on your frame over the underwear that the door opened with a clatter. you moved to cover yourself, and scream at whoever was entering unannounced, but then you turned to see the figure standing in the doorway.

edge stared you down, eyes only leaving yours when he took the opportunity to take in the sight of your half dressed body. you buttoned up the mid section of your shirt on instinct, stepping back to your back as the judgement days leader closed the door behind him.

“my answer is still no.” you muttered, trying your best to ignore how he locked the door behind him.

“i know.” he hummed, playing with the bottom of his suit jacket. you had to turn back to your things to avoid his cold gaze “you made that pretty clear with your attempt to embarrass me.”

“nothing personal, sweetheart.” you taunted, surely adding insult to injury.

edge gave a faint growl, suddenly crowding behind you a lot like how he had in the ring. you felt a tug to the hem of your shirt, slapping his hand away before you were even fully turned to face him. he was closer to you now, having chest nearly colliding with your own when you whipped around to shoot him a glare. but all your possible retorts died in your throat when you saw how he was staring at you.

like he wanted to eat you alive.

“oh trust me, sweetheart, i know. to turn down such an opportunity on a personal grudge? now you’d have to be more stupid than i first thought.” one of his hands reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but it wasn’t sweet in the way most would take that action, it was a fight for ownership.

you stepped back in an attempt to put some space between you and the man, but were met by the bench against the back of your knees, almost causing you to tumble. just before you could slam down against the seat and the hard wood of the locker spaces, an arm was around your waist, steadying you but leaving very little room to breathe.

“get off me.” you whispered, no real heat to your own request.

he knew that too, lips curling in a smirk as he realised he had you right where he wanted you. “you don’t want that, do you, y/n?”

steeling yourself, you choked out an unconvincing “i do”, and just to prove a point, edge released his grip just enough to allow you to slip.

you weren’t proud of how quickly you reacted, grabbing at the collar of the black suit to keep yourself upright and igniting a low chuckle from the man in front of you.

once you had steadied yourself, he was the one to move to release your hands from his collar. you thought he might move back after having made his point, but he didn’t make any attempt to even release his hold on you, instead, taking a step forward until your back was curved as it pushed against the hard wooden beam behind you. the only things holding you up now were the angle and the way you levelled your legs against his.

he used the position to his advantage, sliding his knee in between your thighs, knowing you couldn’t push him away for fear of falling. one of his hands came around your body, not quite touching in a way that would provide pressure, but dancing along your bare thigh enough to pull goosebumps from your skin.

“your little stunt has caused quite the rift amongst us.” he growled, low and rough as his eyes raked your upper body. the top of your shirt had slipped open enough now that you were sure he had the perfect line of view of your chest. “i think you owe me an apology. what do you say?”

his free hand, the one that wasn’t teasing your thigh, journeyed back up your body, coming around rest on the back of your waist. you couldn’t help but arch on instinct, head lifted enough that the space between your faces was almost minimal. he leant forward, breath ghosting over your lips as you mustered as much power as possible to whisper a half hearted “fuck you.”

edge chuckled again in response, hand on your waist giving a firm squeeze before his lips were on your neck. your brain was screaming to move away, but the pleasant sensation that rushed through your body told you otherwise. “you’d like that wouldn’t you.” he mumbled against your skin, trailing a line of kisses down the side of your neck and across your clavicle. you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out as he attached his lips to the bottom of your throat, nipping at the skin there “tell me to stop, babygirl, and i will.”

there was your out, all you needed was to say the word and, despite his harsh acting exterior, the gentleman inside would stop. but you both knew you couldn’t, not with how his hand massaged at your waist, and his lips sucked what would surely be a bruise come the morning into your sensitive neck.

“edge,” you whispered out, hands coming around his neck to tug him closer. he obliged, hand around your waist pulling you up and flush against his body. the movement caused just enough pressure of his knee against your crotch, and the involuntary groan that left your mouth was welcomed by him smashing his lips against yours.

he kissed you ferociously, not wasting any time before sliding his tongue into the mix. then, your feet were off the floor and legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he pushed your back against the locker spaces once more, his waist pressed firmly against yours so that you could feel just how affected he was. you were sure you weren’t much better, feeling the way your body reacted on instinct to the man’s touch.

he supported you enough with his thigh to release one hand from under you to practically undo the two buttons holding your shirt together with an expert flick. the air conditioning hit your body once more, and for someone who wrestled in underwear, you had never felt more exposed than now.

“still not joining.” you mustered up enough courage to whisper the rejection again, gasping loudly when edge used your distraction to cleverly unhook your bra. it didn’t slip off due to the issue of your shirt still being over your arms, but he seemed pleased with himself as he kissed down your chest.

the hand that had worked the magic on your top trailer down your centre, teasing finger pressing until he reached the hem of your underwear. he attached his lips momentarily to your left breast, before his hand found its goal and he cupped your heat through your underwear, a snarky “even now?” breathed into your skin.

you couldn’t help the moan that tore out of you once again as edge slipped your underwear to one side, but this time all that followed was a chuckle of your own as you used your hands to direct his head upwards. just before you collided your lips together once more, you punctuated your laugh with a sly “actually, you’re very convincing.”

[invisiblegarters]

(Absolutely not) Micro BL and GL Reviews

I spent the last couple of weeks being ill in bed with very little energy. Not great, but also it meant that my limited ability to get up and move around much gave me endless time to catch up on a bunch of shows that I'd let fall by the wayside (or never even started in the first place), and now I have thoughts to share!

Joy? Joy! Welcome to yet another set of my talks about shows that is supposed to be small but never actually is.

Completed

Wandee Goodday: This wound up being way sweeter than I expected from the promo material, but I'm not complaining. I genuinely love shows where most of the people are just trying to get alone while being decent, and that was certainly the vibe here. I was happy with the sex positivity and the introduction of Kao being ace, although I will admit that I felt like it was a little too "let me educate you" about that bit at certain points. That said, it's a topic that maybe needs that kind of thing in this context? I also really really loved that Dr. Dee and Yak got it together and spent a bunch of episodes just being adorable and dealing with struggles that had nothing to do with their relationship. It's so refreshing to see adults being in an adult relationship and actually acting like it. There were several times when the show could have just manufactured drama for drama's sake and chose not to and I really respect and love that. It was also fun to see Title appear in a role that wasn't to cause problems. And Char and Yei were fucking adorable my god. 8/10

We Are: Way better than I expected, if I'm honest. It got a little draggy for me at the end, but Pond and Phuwin always give solid chemistry and I finally got to see what everyone likes so much about Winny and Satang paired together. I never watched MSP and I never will because it's just a little too young for me, but Toey and Q were fucking cute so I get it now, guys. I especially adored Toey - Satang plays endearing brat very well. I also really liked Tan and Fang - their teasing dynamic worked for me. Also Boom is so pretty my goodness. I do think that it was trying to juggle too many couples but as I already said it dragged a little for me at the end so I think they could have done it with better pacing. It seems to me that New has a thing for dramas driven by internal conflicts, and that was We Are all over. The plot advanced as the characters did, which I can understand might be frustrating but I find that if I'm in the right mood I eat it right up. Especially ones like this, with mostly sweet people just living their lives and trying to do right by themselves and each other. Cute, earnest, a really good friend group. It probably won't be something that I revisit much or that sticks in my mind for a long time, but I had a good time. Giving it a 7/10, mostly for the pacing stuff I already mentioned. It kinda lost me towards the end.

My Marvelous Dream is You: idolfactory's second GL and I think I wanted to like it more than I wound up liking it. The chemistry was good and I love the cast (even if I think my girl Silvy was way underutilized), but the plot was a little...not great. I'm still not entirely sure what it was going for, or why the shared dreams were important. I really liked Ae (Kim's mom). And Wan was my favorite. Girl was messy and brash but my kind of messy and brash if I'm honest, and I cheered aloud when she went off on Mawin's family. They were awful. Awful, too, was Mawin in the end. I get being hurt but I always get a little (a lot) irritated when people mess with someone's livelihood out of pettiness, so him fucking with Kim's business because she broke up with him (and yes, in a really shitty way but also lbr here he knew she wasn't into him in some ways he did that to himself) was never gonna do anything but piss me off. It does amuse me that Heng has now played 2 dudes in idolfactory GLs who very nearly marry one of our heroines when she really really doesn't want him and he's very aware, though. I find myself wondering if he's gonna go for the third in The Loyal Pin (I hope he does). 7/10

Love Sea: I loved this one. I knew I would. The premise had me from moment one, lol. And frankly, Fort and Peat deliver on chemistry so it was kind of a no brainer for me. I knew that Trongrak was gonna wind up being really messy the second love came into the picture, and I was absolutely right. I love how he was perfectly fine with Mahasamut holding him and defending him against his shitty dad and following him around and getting all jealous when he implies he's going out to fuck other people (and whether or not he'd have done it is up for debate - I think he would have forced himself to try and failed miserably because that's my favorite lol) and take care of his niece like family, etc...but the second the word "love" actually makes its way out of the dude's mouth he can't handle it. My only quibbles were Prin - why was she so awful for no reason, MAME? The dad - he was not an effective villain to me. I wish that he'd been a little more menacing but I guess it works that he just let Tongrak think that he'd done a lot of things that he hadn't, and I do like that he was basically squeezing money out of both Tongrak and his mom just by showing up on occasion and assuming that they wouldn't talk to each other (which they weren't, both trying too hard to protect their family from his sliminess). I also like that it was finding that out that made both of them snap out of it. And last but not least - what the FUCK, MAME. How dare you give me that lesbian side couple and make it SO COMPELLING and actually get me invested than then not actually offer a resolution because oops, we're on episode 10 now and it's time for the love issue between Tongrak and Mahasamut to rear its head? How very very DARE you. Genuinely this made me the angriest and dropped my personal enjoyment a lot. I haven't seen the special yet so maybe that gets addressed (it SHOULD I was INVESTED), but while I would probably have given it a 9 (I really liked it a lot okay) I am dropping it to a 8/10 for that. Tempted to drop it to a 7 because I am petty.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans: Another one I really liked! The chemistry between Sailub and Pon is absolutely scorching and while I have noticed that actors are getting a lot better about it in general, I always take notice when they are so entirely comfortable with not just the steamier scenes but the emotionally intimate ones as well. I love when I am watching a show and I can believe that the characters want each other and like each other, and not like a part of them isn't flinching at the very idea of it (unless that's the character, but just go with me when I say that there's just a very specific vibe you get when one (or both) of the actors isn't comfortable and I think it actually happens more with the sweet, couply stuff than it does the steamy stuff. But I digress). Chemistry like that can help me forgive quite a bit.

I liked how obnoxious Wan was in the beginning - I did not expect that and it was annoying but also kind of delightful. He grew on me despite my initial annoyance. Oab was a little different - he annoyed me right out of the gate by not calling Kao Suay and telling her about her dad. I get the respect thing, I do, but also what if he died and she was abroad, none the wiser? How would everyone have felt then? Keeping it from her was NUTS, and I don't even care that Kluer called her and told her for nefarious reasons. Someone had to. Oab's wishy washiness with her when she came back annoyed me too - a personal failing of mine has always been that I don't have time for that kind of waffling. I just wanted him to make a choice and stick with it (and was doubly annoyed as it became clearer and clearer what his choice was and he still couldn't just say it). Thank goodness he had Nubnueng there to gently prod him into finally doing the thing.

I wish Kluer's turn to villainy had been more evil, but I guess that wouldn't have made sense for this show, since no one really was, not even Enemy No. 1 Methas. Speaking of which, I wanted to like him and JJ more than I did in the end. I did like them, but I guess I just wanted more development there than I got in the end. They were cute though JJ was hands down my favorite character. I understood Methas so much. I also really enjoyed his relationship with Wan.

One thing that I thought was utterly hilarious was Oab's pettiness. As a petty person myself I can't help but find opening a new restaurant to steal all of your ex's customers because he wouldn't just apologize for, you know, deceiving you for most of your relationship and initially planning to sell your restaurant to the one man in the world you emphatically never wanted to own it absolutely hilarious. No notes Oab you keep rocking on. 8/10

Currently Watching

The Loyal Pin: Everything in this show is so damn pretty it's hard for me to think about much else. Especially Freen, and it seems like all the show wants to do is remind us of her beauty at every moment. Which, well. I am not complaining the woman makes my breath catch.

But this week I finally started paying a bit of attention to something more than oooh pretty, and I am genuinely wondering if this show isn't going to be all pretty dresses and gorgeous women falling in love and carving mangoes and if maybe there aren't some extremely serious things swimming in the waters.

Watching Anin wield her power this week hit me way way harder than all the ways that she'd been doing it before, and in a way that made me think a lot harder about how she'd done it before as well. I think it's because usually she sticks to manipulation to get what she wants - she's charming, she smiles, she talks people around - but last ep she dropped all pretense a couple of times, and we watched it cut more than once. Anin is a woman who knows exactly what she wants and she has the means to get it, she is spoiled and she will do whatever it takes. Other people have talked about it better, but I will say I am absolutely fascinated, and am genuinely curious to see if this is going to be addressed or if it's just the way it is. I also want to see if there's something that will butt up against Anin's frankly terrifying amount of power. Something she can't either manipulate or brute force her way through (although in the end I bet she manages to do one or the other anyway).

Also, kisses. Teach Pin more things Anin! She's a good student.

The Trainee: This show was not really on my radar at all, and I'm genuinely not sure why I decided to pick it up. Maybe because I was finishing up another GMMTV show and it was next in the youtube queue?

Whatever the reason, I'm so glad I did because I fucking LOVE this show. it's my favorite thing airing right now and that I never would have expected or believed.

It really is so good though. I think for me it's that it feels realistic - maybe in a way that can be uncomfortable for some but I love it. No one here is perfect, it's not just the mentors constantly schooling the kids because even though they are older, they are still growing too, and still have things to learn. Especially when it comes to Jane, who is my favorite character in the show I think and is hands down the best Off character I have personally seen. I am so iffy with Off normally that my adoration for Jane is confusing me, but he's so good. He's an adult and he handles most of his problems like an adult (which frankly I think is sometimes missing from these shows), but still has moments where he fumbles because he's still human. And I like that when he does fumble, he apologizes. I'm also really in to the whole deal that happens in the workplace where people think he's a certain way and judge him for it, but he's really just...dedicated. Strict, yes, but not entirely uncompromising. I dunno he's just a great character.

I also really like how this feels like an ensemble show with the romance not at the forefront. I don't always want that but this is so well done that I'm happy for it. I like that we have gotten to showcase each intern, their struggles and their achievements and just...growing up and learning to handle that scary point in life where you're really starting to enter the adult sphere, with all it's responsibilities, but still not ones that are entirely on your shoulders. If you do things the more traditional way, that is - I know a lot of us were in that world well before college. Still, it does resonate with me.

I am also enjoying the insight we're getting into the background of production. Such as how much work and effort goes into even the smallest change in filming even something that seems as simple and straightforward as an ad. Imagine how hard it would be to reshoot scenes from something like a TV show, especially considering the stuff like location, OT, cast and crew...I had already guessed a lot of it, but it's always nice to be proven correct. I like being right, what can I say? And the Ryan's awkwardly trying to draw people out without directly asking them how they are After Work Corner is very charming. I like that it gives insight into the business but also Ryan, who I do sometimes feel is the weakest of the interns. Which is insane because he's played by Gun Atthaphan, but there you go. I did like that he was brave enough to ask Jane about his feelings last ep, and I'm looking forward to seeing him more in his element (or at least what he's used to) next ep.

I really hope this show continues to impress.

1000 Stars - This is a rewatch for me as I roped a friend into watching for the first time. I warm up to this one more each time I watch it. The first time I was annoyed with Phupha's everything but I feel like I get him more and more as I go on. I also love a show that has heart (heh, this show has heart ror sure (and this is why we can't take me anywhere)) and this has a ton of it. It also amuses me whenever Phupha and Tian start doing their intense staring thing and there are other people around. I bet they're all just like "welp there they go again we've lost them, best go about our business" and leave them to it.

I also always forget Khaotung is in this one. Every time I watch I'm like "oh yeah" when he shows up. It's so funny to me.

Looking Forward To:

Peaceful Property (28 Aug) - Is it BL? Is it bromance? Who knows. Do I care? I...don't think so. Whatever the romance situation it looks like a ton of fun, and I am excited to see Tay back in glasses and to see this cast, especially doing comedy.

Kidnap (06 Sep) - This one also looks like fun. I love Ohm, Leng looks like he's doing a good job matching him, they seem to have good chemistry from the trailer. And pettily I'd watch this anyway because some of the shenanigans of certain fans have made me that annoyed. Good for me that it looks like something I'll like regardless, I guess.

Pluto (???) - GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME. It has been 84 years I am DYING here. If it doesn't get released this year I might actually cry, but I am hoping that it will.

There are others I am looking forward to (honorable mentions if you will): My Golden Blood, The Heart Killers, ReVamp (still a stupid title), Friendshit Forever, Hide & Sis, Us - but all of these are either not filming yet or so early into their schedule that I'm not letting myself get too excited for them. And for The Heart Killers especially I don't want this to be an Only Friends situation where I got really hyped and then was inevitably kind of disappointed (at first - I shook it off and came back around eventually lol). I just wanna go in there and have a good time - I'm excited to see that entire cast do a romcom, I think it'll be fun, and that's about all I want to expect out of it. I'll get excited when we get an air date.

Also thinking of picking up 4Minutes since it's on Gaga now, apparently. And maybe trying to find My Stand In since it's over and I can inhale those deliciously toxic fumes all in one (or two) sitting(s). And maybe, just maybe, poke around for BL and GLs outside Thailand, lol. I feel like it's been all Thailand all year for me when I used to watch JBLs and KBLs too.

Any recs?

[demonslayedher]

Not-very-spoilery thoughts on the movie release of Pillar Training (+SSV conclusion)

Behind a cut anyway just in case!

--Very nice to hear familiar background music brought back--Yuukaku themes when Uzui & his wives appear, Mitsuri's "Koi Kogare" BGM when she has a good batch of lines, Giyuu's BGM as he's like, "bye"

--I am very happy with the new OP, both sound and imagery-wise.

--One very short clip in particular made me, a fanfic writer, very very happy, but then there was more gratuitous focus that reminded me of another one of my best fanfics. The rewards of writing fic as closely based on canon as I could get them gives me the satisfaction of feel liking like canon-based imagery honors my fics by extension.

--Speaking of imagery in general, Ufotable is finding lots of ways to try to harp on the idea that everyone's wishes to destroy demons find their accumulation in Tanjiro, the Sun Breath user and first person in centuries to unlock the Mark. It is perhaps a little clumsy at times, but hey, that's a theme I like in this series.

--I was sad that Suma sounded so different, and had to look up afterward if she still had the same seiyuu. She does, but I think they might have given her totally different vocal direction so that she wouldn't sound too similar to Mitsuri

--Japanese crowds tend to be very quiet at movie theaters, but people could not contain their giggles at many of Mitsuri's lines

--I had the honor of sitting next to a huuuuuuuge fangirl who before the moving was saying stuff to her friends like, "(Hanae) Natsuki-san was at USJ the other day, and since it's a VR ride, you know, you have to wear the goggles, and I think, what if I wear the pair that he wore??? You know?? Our faces??? Would be so close?????" and then at the review of previous seasons at the beginning of the show, she started crying the instant the Mugen Ressha part started. Not loud crying, but crying.

--You can tell everyone was waiting for the "welcome back" scene, and although I thought Zenitsu would steal the show in that scene, it was indeed Nezuko. In the seiyuu greeting that was broadcast across all Japanese theaters on the opening day, Shimono-san noted that he thinks the audio was turned down on his performance of that scene. I think it was probably was too.

--So much happy daily life in this episode. If you have any friends who complained about last year's theater showing being a let-down because it was just regular anime episodes instead of a Mugen Train style movie, please tell them to just sit this one out and spare us their complaints. Most of this showing was just Tanjiro having a nice time after having a panic attack over Nezuko (oh, and like, killing Upper Moon Four, that too).

--Shinobu's hair seems distinctly longer. Giyuu's hair seems distinctly fluffier.

--Ufotable has put a lot of touches into humanizing Amane

--I wish Ufotable would stop trying to drive the "Zenitsu thinks Aoi is happy to see him (just because Aoi is a girl)" point. First off, yes, Zenitsu being a creep to girls is played up a bit in the anime. Second, the first fanbook states that the only kind of girl who is not so much his type is the Aoi-type.

--Also, on the promo art, I like the design they gave Shinobu's sword, but that's ignoring the fact that the four engraved kanji characters are on either side. Go ahead, Ufotable, hire me as your canon double-checker. EDIT: Oh wait, that is its sheath. Lovely, carry on.

--That said, the original filler they gave us? Gold star. Excellent. So happy with it. One... well, two tiny nitpicks that don't bother me much but stating it here would spoil it.

--One more non-spoilery thing to say about that filler: the people at Ufotable were probably like, "our fans are nerds. We already give them this, this, this, and that to nerd over. You know what else they are probably nerds for? Yeah. Let's give them that." Thank you, Ufotable. This nerd accepts and loved it.

--Tiny Nezuko filler as they set the stage talking about Muzan is probably looking for her? LOVE THAT TOUCH, at every level.

--Shinobu does have multiple goldfish, but they look a bit different?

--Genya's makes the best face in this whole episode

--Speaking of Genya, in the seiyuu greeting they had actors in big chibi costumes of the Kamaboko gang come out... PLUS GENYA. Giant chibi grumpy Genya was so, so, so, so freaking cute. Also, his seiyuu Okamoto got to join the stage with everybody and was talking about how he always used to scroll through his social media seeing the other seiyuu at KnY events and he was like, "sigh... sure looks like everyone is having fun..."

--Hanae Natsuki and his wife are big Genya fans, though, it seems

--Okamoto had a lot of trouble performing young Genya in the flashback, especially the emotional screaming. The desperation Genya always displays as he fights? That was Okamoto. --Meanwhile, Matsuoka always looks very overwhelmed at these things. I think having to embody the spirit of Inosuke terrifies him.

--IT WAS SO GOOD TO HEAR INOSUKE AGAIN

--Those actors in chibi costumes? The Zenitsu and Inosuke ones embodied them SO WELL. I don't usually care for those giant mascot character costumes, but these were legit so much fun to watch, like with Inosuke going right up into the cameras and Zenitsu trying to pull him back and then the two of them pushing and shoving. Zenitsu acting like he is being bullied and Inosuke showing off his muscles. I loved them. I am very sad that I will not be in town when they travel across Japan and come to my area.

--Also, the baritone voice of Oyakata-sama's personal crow? LOVED IT.

--Himejima at the the Pillar Meeting is such a statement. The new promotional material has a tag line that prominently uses one of the kanji in his name ("cry out"), and I feel like this is set-up for him to have a lot of impact later on in this season. Here's hoping!

--I am probably gonna go watch it again in a couple weeks, ufufufu

--Which is worth it for that KIZUNA NO KISEKI REMIX WHICH SOUNDED SO COOL IN SURROUND SOUND, OH MY GOSH

[louisisalarrie]

okieeeeee dokie. I have gotten several messages about the F jerseys and whether or not louis is giving up larry and whether or not we should just step back because he’s still pushing the narrative and just people being sad in general about all this thinking he doesn’t care about us.

SO instead of replying to you all individually, this is the last im gonna comment on this bullshit unless something massive happens. I hope I can comfort y’all and just overall make this feeling of doubt and grossness and turn it into the fight that we’ve been fighting for 14 years and remind you all to stay strong.

Multiple anons, and anyone else interested, welcome to the show.

So, to start this off, im gonna provide you all with some links, to remind you of just how orchestrated bbg and all of this is. This will preface this conversation with a much stronger tone because well… you have to remember how fucked up this stunt is and how poorly it was conceived (pardon the pun).

Links here, here, here, and here

Okay. So. BBG is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard (reference fully intended). This shit was so poorly done, with so many mistakes, and so many things that didn’t add up. All on top of a young dude who’s meant to be marketable to the masses as attainable, to provide more sales etc., and not a bad boy that fucks multiple women and gets one of them pregnant. That’s just… not good PR, first of all, and also negatively affects not only him, but the band as well, regardless of them going on break. Why not just have Louis single and attainable? Market him as a bit more charming and sexy and maybe doing the Harry thing, to ensure more promo?

Well, because Louis was the punching bag for SC and friends and they didn’t want him to take the limelight off Harry for a solo career, and needed to be as far away as possible from each other to ensure Harry’s coming out. ANYWAY you’ve heard me talk about this shit before yada yada yada. So, im gonna chat about what’s happening now instead.

For the last little while, Larries have been given small sips of water while being stranded in the desert, is kinda the best way I can describe it. We’re only getting content from Louis, also, which is something to remember. We’re not getting double the content from Harry so it’s been fairly quiet. Anyway. We’ve gotten green and blue lights, coded clothing, 7, gazing and pointing at the ceiling/boxes, all that stuff, but really, it’s no proof. It’s little tidbits in the grand scheme of things, and unfortunately in this grand scheme of things, exists bbg.

Louis has been single for a long while now, and his dating life doesn’t get traction in the press. Neither will these jerseys or really much else he does. Unless he were to be tied to a major artist/actress who’s super famous, he’s not gonna get any further press outside of the realm he is currently in, unfortunately. And I think perhaps that is something he tends to reference when he’s on stage. The whole “we did this together, we need each other, we didn’t need anyone else’s help, im so lucky that you accept me as I am” etc, because he’s not been stunting to up his market value. He’s just… doing well with the fans. It’s lucky he has such a dedicated fanbase. Artists don’t have this all the time.

Now, idk why tf LATAM has brought on so much F content with these jerseys, and I don’t know who in their right mind is actually spending money on this shit to gift to Louis (particularly in an economic cost of living crisis), but it’s truly bizarre. If I believed in bbg, I wouldn’t be giving him gifts for his kid, and I could’ve done it quite easily backstage by getting someone to leave it in his dressing room or whatever. But it’s weirddddd and a waste of moneyyyyy and doesn’t make him love you any more than other fans. Is it like a weird anti power play or something? Idk. But what I do know, is that these jerseys have had a very clear narrative.

Idk if something is coming or Harry is gonna come out or whatever, but Louis is doing his pretty little barely smile and wave and glancing at these jerseys before popping them on the stage. He doesn’t seem to look particularly over the moon with them, does he? He’s just like “oh okay thanks” and slaps the hell out of his chest and goes back to doing whatever he was doing. If he loved getting gifts from fans for F all over the world (and didn’t think it was weird nor was it a setup), I imagine maaaaaybe he’d show it off to the crowd a bit more? Maybe a “this is great, thank you! Everyone look at this sick jersey for my little lad! He’s gonna love that” because Louis is SO proud of that kid and loves that kid SO much and I just feel like he’d be more excited about it.

If bbg was real and he found it weird, he’d still probably smile a little more and be a little more into it than what he seems to be. This second time round was a bit more of a grimace and I just don’t see him being stoked about it. But let’s talk about that… why has there been two fucking jerseys for “his” kid given to him in very close succession? wtf is going on?

well, one of those times, apparently the Louis jersey was gifted to him backstage, but they saved the F jersey to give it to him on stage. Personally, idk, if I was a fan and brought these jerseys and got to go backstage (?????) to gift him them, I would probably give them at the same time. Because that makes sense. Because otherwise you need to carry it around and also try and get his attention from the crowd and it just seems surely like more of a fuck around. It’s weird, weird, and weird, and feels like way more of a set up than usual.

Because, it’s just a little reminder for everyone about bbg, and that it exists. It’s a good little thing to just upkeep that narrative without having to DO anything. It’s easy. But also interesting timing, and why now?

Harry’s coming back on the radar slowly, after a BUA, and so perhaps there could be a coming out in the near future that would encourage Louis to continue to look hettie af. Perhaps it’s to distract from any larry stuff that may happen or has happened around this time. Maybe it’s a good little way to upkeep the narrative if Louis and Harry start forming a friendship or liking each other’s photo online or SOMETHING. it can be for so many reasons. But, the main one isn’t to get rid of us. I promise you that.

Louis’ fandom, while it slowly continues to develop and grow, is majority larries. It’s just a matter of fact that more Larries flocked to Louis when Harry started getting a fucking crazy fanbase and started doing a million stunts. Louis felt safer, and continues to feel safer. Don’t get me wrong, still a huge amount of harries are larries, but as it stands, Louis has a very strong amount of us on his side. And he’s not an idiot, he knows that. He knows his demographic, he would be updated about that by PR, and they would analyse it too and see what needs to be damage control, what the age ranges are, what the social media content is between the fans, and how they view louis. All very basic stuff, and so he’d know. Hence the “so be it” comment. He knows that without us, there was a larger potential he could’ve flipped and would be playing theatres as opposed to arenas. He could’ve pushed us waaaaay further away than what he has with his weird little denials and F comments, he could have that kid at more shows and be flaunting him on Instagram, and could be actively trying to really squash it. But he doesn’t (some people say it’s because being linked to Harry gives him promo but that’s another conversation for another time so don’t bring that up please haha).

He states, very loudly and clearly, that he appreciates and loves every single one of us. He doesn’t make snide comments, he doesn’t say this kind of dismissively, he makes a point to say he loves all of us no matter what. He pointedly said that he thanks us for accepting him. And quite frankly, if I was in his position, I’d probably find a better way of saying that if I wanted to dispel the rumours.

These little jersey setups (which I believe one person has started and others have followed giving a great little way to remind us of bbg from louis’ team and UAs), are awfully staged and just cause fights within the fandom. It’s not ideal, but hell, it beats seeing him with that kid everywhere. And these days are very interesting with how fans get their information. Years ago, while we had groupies and insiders, update accounts weren’t manipulated the way they are now. We had blind items, sure, but anyone could write into that. We had receipts, and while many were real, many also weren’t. But now… with how big fanbases are online, the best way to communicate narratives are fan to fan, as opposed to media to fan. It seems more genuine. It seems less fake like media items are. It looks real.

So with these jersey incidences and UAs blabbering on and posting pictures of jerseys before the show and saying how much Louis loved them and all that, it’s manipulated as more real than what it is. You can’t write an article about everything, but you can tip off UAs or Deuxmoi with a fake name to get them to post shit for the fandom exclusively to see. It’s simple, but very effective. And it’s just… pure marketing, and encourages artist to fan interaction (which should be supported online but the boys can lack that these days which is shit on their behalf), and helps dispel the rumours within the fandom.

Wow okay. This turned into an essay and im not actually gonna reread it because I don’t have time but if you’ve gotten this far in my rambling, kudos to you. My main points are:

- no matter how many jerseys louis gets for F, he’s still not a dad

- those jerseys will not magically make him a dad

- these stunt narratives are sooooo see through and boring these days I just roll my eyes at it but thank god it’s a lot more lowkey to what it could be

- Louis loves us and wants us here bc we pay his bills and also accept him and support him and we’re on whatever journey he wants to take together

- these little ongoing narrative pushes can be the preface to a coming out on Harry’s side/reconciliation between the boys

- keep an eye on body language throughout these interactions

- giving gifts to ur fave relating to their kid no matter what you believe is creepy and weird and a lot of us seem to be in agreement on that

- this shit isn’t louis’ fault

- don’t believe everything you read on Twitter

- they missed the boat on ending this stunt years ago and ending it now is gonna be very fucking hard

- it’s easily arguable that even if Larry wasn’t real, Louis’ still not a dad

thanks team!