#the videos in the source were a lot to take on this monday night if i'm honest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it��s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #goldenclosetnet #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk♡#jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #mine

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1234-angelika · 3 years

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Fateful Encounters

an:this is the first part of my Happily Ever After series for Luke. He's definitely one of my favourites so I'm super excited to share this one with you. I hope y'all like it

words:1.1k

warnings: I don't think there are any, if you see any just let me know.

summary:"You often meet your fate on the road you took to avoid it."-French Proverb

masterpost|taglist|have an idea?

You had started your day in the early hours of the morning, 4 am to be exact. You had made a career out of blogging, much to the chagrin of your parents. You had tried university right out of high school but, you could feel that it just wasn’t for you. Not to mention, you didn’t really want that debt looming over you. It has been a process, though, to get to the point you’re at. A lot of blood, sweat and, tears have gone into making your career successful.

On the side, you ran a YouTube channel, often for clothing hauls and try-on videos, but occasionally, you would vlog. Clothes and just lifestyle topics were something you became super passionate about near the end of high school. Many of the people you thought were your friends dumped you as soon as you dropped out of university. Your channel was created out of a love for clothes and had become your second source of income. You spent the better part of your morning at the mall, picking up some clothes you had your eyes on for a while. You also emptied your PO box of all the PR packages you had gotten from companies.

Turning into the park, a shortcut back to your apartment, really, you held up your camera to finish off your vlog, arms full of bags. You felt like a circus act, and you definitely should have ordered the uber you were thinking about.

“Hi friends!It’s been a while since I’ve been on here but, I am back and excited to be so—“ You paused to pet a dog that ran up to you, “—I’ll probably be doing weekly vlogs so I can catch up with you all and so you can see a bit of what happens behind the blog. Today I went shopping and I picked up all the packages from my PO box so I’ll be filming a separate unboxing for those on Monday—“

You continued through the park, smiling at all the babies and puppies, petting the ones that came up to you. You kept walking and stumbled upon a coffee cart; you wouldn’t say no to a bit of caffeine. You ordered yourself a drink and then took a seat on the bench opposite of the cart. Taking a little break, you let yourself relax and bask in the sun on the unseasonably warm fall day. Slowly, you sipped on the coffee and looked around the park. There was an adorable little girl, with a woman who seemed to be her mother, throwing coins into the fountain. A mommy group hanging out by the playground like they do every week, without fail. And there was no shortage of attractive people jogging along the paths paved through the park.

After finishing your coffee, you checked your phone quickly before disposing of the cup and heading back on your way. You continued down the winding paths, pausing every so often to shift the heavy bags. And then you came to the part of the park where the path no longer worked for you. Meaning, you had to walk across the grass, which in itself is not entirely safe, but with dogs and flying toys, it becomes more of a danger. As you walked across the grass, some genius part of you decided it would be an excellent idea to vlog again.

You were so busy talking into your camera that you had stopped paying attention to what was going on around you, minus the occasional glances at the ground to ensure you didn’t trip. You were almost out of the park when, all of a sudden, you were hit with a foreign object.

“Ow!” You exclaimed as the object hit you.

Looking around, there was nobody in the near vicinity meaning that whoever threw the offensive object had a pretty good arm. Down on the ground, where it had landed beside you, was a ratty old tennis ball that had definitely seen better days.

Over the hill, a dog came running toward you, adorable as ever. The dog picked up the tennis ball and then sat by your feet. You bent down to read her collar.

“Roxy, huh?” She barked in response, tail wagging. “Do you want me to throw the ball for you?” She barked again and dropped the ball.

So you set your bags down carefully along with your camera and threw the ball. It didn’t go as far as it had come, but it was still a decent distance. You started to pick up your bags again when she returned with the ball to you. You weren’t expecting this. You were expecting her to go back to her owner. So, you picked the ball up and threw it again, a little further this time. You did this for a while before your arm got tired, and you had to stop.

The ground was dry, so you took a seat on the grass. Setting your bags down beside you and made yourself as comfortable as you could on the hard ground. Roxy dropped the ball by your feet and laid her head in your lap. Gently, you pet her, soothing both yourself and the dog. You planned on staying with her until her owner came to find her. Faintly, you could hear a man calling out for the dog.

“Roxy?!” “Roxy?!”

She only barked in response, not moving from her spot beside you on the grass. He jogged up to the two of you with a gorgeous smile on his face.

“Hey Roxy, it looks like you made a new friend huh?” He said, laughter in his tone while walking closer to the two of you. “And sorry for hitting you with the ball. It was an accident, I didn’t think I would throw it that far.” He apologized sincerely, looking at you.

You just smiled and said, “Maybe it was an accident…or maybe it was fate. Either way, I’m glad it happened. My names Y/N.” Standing up, you outstretched your hand for him to shake.

Shaking your hand, the dazzling contagious smile still on his face, he said, “My name’s Luke and you’ve obviously already met Roxy.”

You chatted for a few minutes before you realized how late it was getting. You picked up your bags, bid a farewell and, continued on your way home. You just couldn’t help but thank your lucky stars that night that you had a chance to meet Luke. The one thing that you couldn’t get off your mind.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #happilyeverafter #hea

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thanatophobia-thoughts · 3 years

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Moving on from Routine, let’s look at Emotional Self-Care. This is Self-Care that you use to improve your emotional stability. This is what Emotional Self-Care can take the form of (though I do not use all of these; I will talk more about the ones I use):

Comfort Food

Taking a “mental health day”

Napping and/or Sleeping In

Binge-Watching Comfort Shows/Reading a Comfort Book/Listening to a Comfort Podcast/Comfort Music/Comfort Video Games/Etc.

Long Baths

Venting

Reflecting on the Good

Meditation

Taking a Walk Outside or Hitting a Treadmill

Turning away from Social Media

Lighting a scented candle

Giving Gifts

Crying/Screaming/Emotional Outburst

Breaking Breakables

Playing with and/or Petting a Pet or Animal

Telling Other People You Don’t Want To Interact With Them (Right Now)/Boundary Setting

Taking care of Plants

Journaling

Cleaning

Treating Yourself (non-food)

Every time I googled “emotional self-care”, I got some things like “set boundaries”, “learn to say no”, and “create a support system” – all of which are very good things, but they don’t really fit the quick regulation criteria that I’m going for here.

So, which of these do I personally use? Comfort Food, Mental Health Days, Sleeping In, Comfort Media, Venting, Reflecting on the Good, Meditation, Hitting a Treadmill, Scented Candle, Giving Gifts, Crying, Animals, Boundary Setting, Cleaning, and Treating Myself.

I’d take care of plants but right now I don’t have a good space for plants.

I’ll look at comfort food last, because I have a list of food.

Mental Health Days, I usually try to schedule ahead of time, around days or times I know are going to be hectic. I know that after a convention, for example, I need “cooldown days”, so usually I will take the following Monday-Wednesday off from work to cooldown from the convention.

If I don’t know ahead of time, I do feel comfortable enough to call in sick, but I vastly prefer being able to plan it, simply because of who I am as a person. It is sometimes a necessity. Sometimes there is just too much going on, and I need to step away from everything. Usually on these days, I will sleep in, or sleep for most of the day, with the promise to go back to normal tomorrow – and that is how it should be.

These are tricks to put you back in line in caring for yourself! To get you back to normal!

Now, most weekends I do sleep in a little. I wake up every day at 6am, so on weekends, I will absolutely let myself sleep in to like, 9-11. It’s a good thing I have this blog on a schedule.

Binge-Consuming Comfort Media: I do not consider this the same as observing New Media, because often for me that is a Personal Self Care, and not necessarily Emotional Self Care. It can be, but more often than not, it gets my thinking fired up and engages me in a wholly different fashion. For example, I consider playing Final Fantasy XII to be a “comfort game”, but I will not consider playing Elden Ring for the first time to be “comfort”, so much as Personal, because the former I have already done, while the latter is something new and is creating new experiences for me. One regulates my emotions, the other does not do so in a foreseeable fashion. In new games, I do not know the experiences I will have, whereas with old games, I can predict them.

I will usually use Binge-Consuming Media in downtime that I have nothing else to fill, but do not have the energy to try something new right then (usually with the promise that I will return to new things in the near future, usually the following day when this happens on a weekend, or the next weekend if this happens on Sunday). Binge-Consuming Media also tends to occur normally on Weekday Evenings, as I tend to lack any desire for new media after work. It thus helps me to stay in a calm mood throughout the night, and prepares me for the next day of work by maintaining mood, rather than changing it.

Venting has to be done with care; I have friends I can vent to, but the vast majority of them only end up aggravating me more when I vent to them. Venting is something I tend to reserve for after I’ve figured out what I’m going to do, and I just need someone else to know my pain, because very rarely are people actually able to give me decent advice. Yet, venting is still useful because it lets me finally express it, and lets other people into my life, which is healing, and allows me to move forward without feeling like I’m keeping a secret.

Akin to that, reflecting on the good is a bit more of a solitary action, but it’s useful to remember that a “bad day” isn’t a bad life. To think of the people who love me, to think of the good things that did happen, even amidst the bad, and to remember there are more good things to come. After a particularly bad day at work, remembering good things, good phone calls with customers, and just good people, is always helpful, and can prepare me to continue through the rest of the day.

Meditation is something I try to do every day, and I do feel that it helps me focus on the moment, as well as helps me work through my thoughts when I’m not meditating.

Back when gyms were safe, hitting the treadmill was great for days I just couldn’t fucking convince myself to do my weight training. It still got me in the gym, it still got me exercising, and it helped me beat out the anger while listening to a podcast or music. I felt like I could breathe. I miss this, a lot, and I look forward to being able to return to this, or getting the “Just Dance” games for my home so I can do a similar thing, without going to the gym. I was then usually able to resume weight lifting the next day – and it kept me from breaking my streak of going to the gym, back in the day.

Aromatherapy is just a thing. I enjoy it, it helps me, and I love candles, haha.

Giving Gifts is also something I like to do. Making other people happy, makes me happy, and this is often a surefire way to do that. It can be as simple as a bit of chocolate, it doesn’t have to be anything extravagant. Of course, I have to make sure I am financial stable enough to do that.

Crying – when I need to. Sometimes I will have to kind of force it, by putting on a movie I know will make me cry, because just bursting into tears from stress without additional stimuli can be hard, but once it’s done, it is so relieving, and it allows my brain to start to function again without feeling as much in a daze.

It’s true I do have pets, and they’re kind of around me everyday, so this is more of a routine one – the animals are a constant source of comfort, but if you don’t have pets, visiting a pet store may be beneficial to give their animals a bit of affection, or going to an animal shelter. Or perhaps watching cute animal videos if those aren’t options.

Boundary Setting is also important. While sometimes, it can be good to help others when you’re going through a thing – I find it helpful sometimes – at other times it is just too much. Being clear on that, and also giving your friend some idea of when to “check in”, is good. It also lets your friend know a bit of a time period, so they know it isn’t a permanent block on conversing. Being open and clear about your situation can only do you good when it comes to your friends – and checking in with them when you’re ready!

Cleaning is oddly enough something I do when I’m preparing for something that is Good. I feel like I must cleanse the area in preparation of the New Good Thing. I will do this when I buy a new gaming console, or a long-awaited game, for instance. It makes things feel fresh and rejuvenated. It lets me walk into the New Thing as if it is a New Thing, and it starts it off on good footing. Some of the anxiety and anticipation of it, is quelled.

Treating Myself, when it’s non-food items, is usually things like clothing for me, or new PJs lately. I will also invest in books I plan to read, one day, eventually, cute Star Wars things, shows and/or movies to watch that are new, or things that generally speaking bring joy into my life. Sometimes emotional regulation, is also about reward. If you’re doing good in your life, you absolutely SHOULD be rewarded for it! Otherwise, why bother with balance and moderation? Why not live a hedonistic lifestyle? That would be far more pleasant if balance and moderation don’t have rewards. Not all emotional regulation is just to stop being sad, it’s also to be vindicated and celebrate good events. Celebrating IS regulating, when it calls for it, obviously. So I’m not encouraging here spending your money on whims because you are sad, but spending it more when you’re happy, and doing good.

And then we get to Comfort Foods. What do I use for comfort foods?

Chipotle Gouda Pasta Salad

Lime-Chipotle Pasta Salad

“Chicken” Fried Steak (Scare quotes because I’m a vegetarian so it’s fake meat)

“Tuna” Salad

Cheesecake, particularly raspberry white chocolate, or turtle.

Ice cream, particularly from Cold Stone, but usually either Rocky Road or Raspberry with Chocolate Chunks. There’s also Love Potion #9 which I have to drive a significant distance for….

Extra Lattes (note the extra – I already have these planned in with my meal plans).

Hot Chocoalte

Potatoes O’Brien and Gravy

The idea behind Comfort Food: Eating tasty food often restores a mood, or at least puts us in a better mindset. They aren’t always the healthiest things, though they aren’t necessarily unhealthy. They have to be done in moderation, as you see I indicate with lattes it’s “extra” lattes that go on the comfort food side. I usually have two decaf lattes a week, one on Wednesday, and one on Friday.

Comfort Foods are for a “limited time”. An extra latte means I don’t get one the following day, or I don’t get one every single day of the week. I take the comfort it offers when it’s needed, and resume my usual drinking habits.

Things like Pasta Salad are for weeks when I need a bit of help, or when I’ve done good, because they’re multiple serving things. So like, my birthday week, eating a pasta is good. Or a week where everything went to hell, and I can’t focus on making something “new” and I just need to eat – but then it’s right back to normality after that week. This is not have pasta for an entire month, this is a way to set intentions, and work on orienting myself back to normal with food I love, and food I can make with my eyes closed.

Single-serving things, like cheesecake or hot chocolate, are usually Reward self-care. Like fuck yeah, I did great, I should give myself a little treat. It encourages my good behavior, and does not become an indulgence. It also ends up “planned”, and so the rest of the meals work around that indulgence so I don’t go overboard with it, either.

Knowing what foods, and what I use them for, helps me to use them when they will be most beneficial for me. Things like “extra lattes” also makes me think: Do I really want to do this now, or wait until the day I’m going to have it? Is there a reason I need it now? What will I do after I have it? How does this impact everything else in the balance?

So these are kind of the “quick trick” emotional self-care tools I use. Obviously, you should try to have a steady way of regulating your emotions, but shit happens. Cars break down, work days suck, friends are angry, people die…we need to have tools to get “back to normal”, or close enough to normal.

And you should also, absolutely, take time to treat yourself in self-care! If you don’t reward yourself, what’s the point in being “balanced”, and not just living a hedonistic lifestyle? That’s why comfort food as rewards is a thing! It’s why you can use these as rewards, if it helps, for doing good!

These are just what I do, and what I suggest. These are ideas to get you thinking about what you could put on a list, and how that could help you. If these same ideas work for you, great! If not, you just have to feel out yourself to determine what will help you! Brainstorm with your loved ones!

#self care #self-care #emotional self care #emotional self-care #self-care list #death anxiety help #death anxiety #existentialism help #existentialism #self-care ideas #self care ideas #self care list #emotional regulation #emotions

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faakeid · 4 years

Note

Ji "confession" written for Kyungsoo?

I wanted to talk about it in another post, but this will do with no problems.

First of all, I want to bring the lyrics and observe some points of it. Like how JI actively participated on the lyrics composition. It’s different from Spoiler, for example, that had other composers and neither JI or CY were involved (Loey also was credited in Confession lyrics). At the same time tho, there’s no much background or publicity about this fact of the story behind this song. Which is kind of a paradox, since JI participated actively on this process.

There was even a live JI did at 191229 where he mentioned a bit about revealing Spoiler to the public.At 2:53 he mentions how it’s totally different from Confession and is about to explain the difference when he, suddenly, stops himself and quickly finishes the livestream.

youtube

Another points that gets my attention while listening to Confession are:

It’s originally a very sexualized song (the title Favorite Position says it all lool), but it changed drastically with JI’s composition (although the stage is sort of sexual since he’s shirtless and all of that). In other hand, Spoiler gets more evident in terms of sexualization lyrically speaking, using terms like “let’s skip the conversation” and others that lead the characters to a sexual encounter and what may happen after that;

The fact Confession doesn’t use female pronouns to refer to the partner JI is singing to. You imagine he’s singing to a woman because he’s a man (which doesn’t invalidate the hypothesis of singing to another man but ok) and because there’s a backup vocal that mentions “girl” once or twice in the middle of the song. That’s it. Because the lyrics don’t talk about a girl at all. And he composed this song meanwhile, again, Spoiler wasn’t composed by him. Moving on;

It’s bizarre how, somehow, the composers of Spoiler seem to make a reference to Confession using this word in the lyrics “ What do you want, a frank character? I need your confession” (this part is written in English). The way it was put, it seemed to me like Spoiler was a remake of confession or a sequel, evidencing it more in a modern way of, perhaps, a temporary relationship between a man and a woman based more on sex. In other words, taking the ambiguous feel Confession left.

The lyrics itself

There are some people who interpreted the lyrics in their own way. That’s a positive thing about music: it’s open for different points of view. So some aspects may differ from what people said, but replying to your main question: yes, I believe Confession was written with KS in mind.

Points that make me think that:

Your poker face cannot be read

elegance pervades your whole body

Pilates makes gestures more elegant and harmonic

From Monday to Friday there's no way to find exit because I fall in love even more with you: It talks about how he’s involved through all this time, every day. Clearly a different process seen in a sexual gathering. Instead of feeling satisfied and go to someone else, the inverse happens here. There are new layers, more reasons about why he falls in love with the person;

I replaced the lie with a more exact and complete truth: JI accepts that he does feel a lot for the person, that’s why he said he replaced the lie (that he doesn’t feel anything) with the complete truth;

You don’t need to hide something inside your ego, take it off. The deeper secret is the feeling that changed you. Confess it all to me: the recipent feels the same and JI knows it. But, at the same time, doesn’t want to admit the feelings are mutual. It’s a deep secret the recipient needs to hide, probably because of his ego. JI wants the person to be open about it and admit his feelings. It shows how the song is not simply a “hello, I want u let’s fuck”. There’s more involved and we can interpret this relationship happens for a while to develop such feelings admist the life routine and boredom it brings to some people;

I just wanna know ya, time for confession. Time for confession. Hit yourself up: this part may pass the impression JI and the recipient don’t know each other very well. But it’s not true, When he says, “I just wanna know ya”, it’s because it’s estabilished the recipient hides his own self, his own feelings and makes harder for JI to fully meet the person he’s involved with. And when he says “hit youself up” it’s the way to mention how the recipient needs to make an action, to connect and contact first, say his name (as a way of aknowledgment) and confess;

Your voice is deeper than the darkness of the night: that is another key point that give away the fact this song wasn’t created with a female in mind. Even scientifically speaking, a female voice tends to have a higher range than a male;

An adult woman’s average range is from 165 to 255 Hz, while a man’s is 85 to 155 Hz (see sources). Men’s voices are generally deeper because the surge of testosterone released during puberty causes their vocal cords to elongate and thicken (source).

Besides, KS’s voice is well known for being low in both singing and speaking. Won’t show videos for that since it’s a well know fact already.

Your gaze is focused, as if you are looking for something, that’s all: some gifs I posted above show this side of KS as well hehe.

I still want your limp body. All I want is your love: another sentence that shows it’s not a casual relationship for JI. It doesn’t matter if the body is weak or getting old or if there are injuries along the way. He wants the soul, the feelings, the love from the recipient;

Wake up slowly. Don't worry, it's time to let it go. You don’t need make up: this sentence can be ambiguous, especially because it uses make up. Some people interpret it as a literal make-up and it could be the real meaning because it talked about getting older and the action of waking up. But it also may mean make up something or pretend and it also has base in what JI said before. So both meanings could be valid here (when looking for translations in other languages the meaning was surrounded by a literal make up but anyways). Embracing the idea of a literal make up is a poetic way to embrace imperfections. When we are around someone we love, we want to show the best sides of ourselves. A perfect face, flawless body and mental health in check. But JI accepts the recipient the way he is and wants him to do the same. Go to him the way you are, without restrictions or inibitions;

Come even close to me with your head up and feel sad right now: there’s a process going on here. The recipient needs to be vulnerable and get closer to the person he loves (in this case JI). But this person also needs to do it confidently (with the head up) and feeling sad, which means the recipient needs to accept his feelings even if they’re dark or if he wants to naturally hide them.It’s another clue that this process is not only sexual. On the contrary. There are many layers in this relationship and the song shows them all.

Coincidentially, I came across this article talking about KS’s voice and the person mentions in some occasions how his insecurity affects his performance If a vocal coach can notice his insecurity, imagine those who are close to him;

Baek also said once that KS needs to believe in his heart and not listen to what others think, which could show a bit this side of him (that matches the song accurately).

Come even close, I want more. Know what I’m saying, you know what I’m saying: again, the closure JI seeks is not only physical. It’s not only the body, the satisfaction, the sex. There are a lot of feelings involved from his part and he wants the confirmation they’re mutual, he wants the closure to the recipient. And ofc, the recipient knows it pretty well.

So, if I believe this song is about KS? Oh yeah 😜

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pxlmtrecs · 2 years

Text

(—) ★ spotted!! THEO ALVAREZ on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 25 year old looks like SHAWN MENDES, but i don’t really see it. while the SOCIALITE / MODEL / CEO OF RITZ-CARLTON is known for being CHARISMATIC my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be SELF CENTERED i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song HEARTLESS by THE WEEKND {he + him / cis male}

tw: chesting, tw: alcohol, tw: drugs

BACKGROUND:

so sweet little theo rafael alvarez was born on july 28th, 1998 in nyc and lived on the upper east side of manhattan . his dad (david) is the heir an owner of the ritz-carlton chain and his mom (sofia) is a well known interior designer . his parents weren’t happy, but they knew the were an empire , and you can’t walk away from an empire

so even though theo grew up having EVERYTHING he ever wanted, and his parents spoiled him like no one other and always made sure to show him as much love and affection as possible, it was certain and clear that showing each other affection and love was not in their books.

theo caught his mom cheating on his dad on multiple occasions, as well as his dad. they weren’t very good at hiding it .

he was quite the troublemaker, growing up. so, when he turned 14 his parents decided to home school him. since they were always caught up with work, they got him the best tutors they could find in manhattan.

he wasn’t thrilled about it. his parents’ decision drove him away from them which only caused him to act out ever more. he would sneak out, go to parties and would be disrespectful to his teachers on purpose. his parents weren’t thrilled about it but they didn’t know what they could do, so they just ignored it.

at the age of 17 one of his mom’s clients saw him at her office and decided she has to sign him to her modelling agency .

since the age of 17 theo has been modelling. he has done multiple runways and worked with the biggest companies you could ever think of. he ended up moving out to la after he turned 17. his parents are paying for his house and they try to keep in touch with him but he doesn’t really give a shit ??

when he was 18 , he was a mess , he went to a ton shit of parties , got drunk , and got high . flirted and hooked up with anyone who would look his way . his parents saw all of it and thought it would be best if he would join the family business -- and own the all of the ritz carltons in california .

that was until he met the girl who ended up changing his views on love and life in general . she made him change his bad habits . he really was her little golden retriever man. he really kept clean for about a while .

it wasn’t until the last 6 months of their relationship that theo started spiralling back . he had a lot of pressure , with making sure everything is running smoothly at all of the hotels , to modelling whenever he got a chance . he needed to take the edge off and breath, and the only way he know how to do so was with drugs . there wasn’t a day that passed without him being high off his mind . he wasn’t himself . he started going to parties again , going on a 3 day banter , returning home on monday morning after going out on friday nights . he hid all of it from his girlfriend , because ‘secrets are what keeps the relationship alive’ was what his mom used to say .

it only took one bad night for the truth to come out . he met a girl at the club , as he was getting high and drunk . and she was there , at the right time and the right place . it didn’t take long for someone to pull out their phones to film them dancing and making out . everyone knew he wasn’t single . the morning after , this video and pictures from that video were all over the internet , the tabloids and what not .

he tried calling his girlfriend , tried apologizing , but nothing helped . he fucked up too much .

his parents obviously saw that too , and realized that it was time to take action . they sent him to rehab for about 6 months , hoping that it might help him get cleaned . he’s been out of rehab for about a month or so .

SOME FACTS & TRAITS & AESTHETICS

he’s very flirty

he’s hot tempered

if you’re really close to him he would give you EVERYTHING

he’s not the most loyal unless you’re like family to him ?? but he’d basically have no problem hurting people he knows . he’s super self centered .

he can come off as very careless

he doesn’t talk about his past relationships or about feelings

he’s an emotional mess but would never show it to the outside world

he’s really soft on the inside and he truly is loving and caring, it’s just really hard for him to show it to the world but i swear he’s a cutie pie

some of aesthetics: faux leather jackets, ripped jeans, bruised knuckles, late night drives, traces of hickeys all over the neck, dark rooms with neon signs, shattered glass all over the floor, empty bottles of whiskey on the counter. here’s a link to his pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/gaya1483/theo/

character inspo : daniel meade (ugly betty) , jj maybank (outer banks) , travis maddox ( beautiful disaster THE BOOK not the movie ) , nate jacobs ( euphoria ) , a mix of farleigh and felix ( saltburn )

#ℴ this is real this is me — ooc ℴ

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sooibian · 4 years

Text

Flambé (Preview)

poster and edits/collage credits to @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt !

🍜 pairing: kyungsoo x fem!reader

🍜 description: pull up a chair. take a taste. come join us. life is so endlessly delicious. - ruth reichl

🍜 themes: fluff, crack (ish), slight angst, a lil bit of spice (in the future), rivals to lovers au

🍜 word count: ~ 2.8k

🍜 a/n: a little preview of a chef kyungsoo story that i've been working on. while i have the plot fleshed out it'll honestly be a while before the long one/two-shot comes out since a lot of research goes into the details. and....i write at a snail's pace. thank you for your patience and lmk if you'd like a tag in the updates!

this story is inspired by a lot of random yt videos and netflix's shows - street food and chef's table.

tagging *deep breath* @j-pping and @changshapatrol (the real rotten banana is here!)

___________________________________________

Water bobbed in frenetic bubbles in a massive ancient stone pot that was perched atop a fort of raging wood. Amidst brutal peals of thunder, a gushing stream rose from a nearby hill, obscuring the shrill cries of the sacrificial crab.

Chanting a spell, you lifted the enormous crustacean by its pincers and lowered it into the growling, pitch black utensil. Blubbering helplessly, it lodged its claws at the rim of the pot in desperation - seeking escape. The sound of your maniacal laughter reverberated through the cave as you thrust it back into the violent undulation with the flick of a bladed-spatula.

All of a sudden, a wave of unconsciousness swept over you. You felt your skin singe as boiling water started to fill up your lungs.

You were alone - at the bottom of the very same utensil.

“Help!” frantic, you staggered up, gasping for air. But the bladed-spatula wielding crab, who was now free and hovering over you, roared at your defenseless form.

Maybe your spell didn't land, you thought.

“Please, Chef!” you whimpered.

In one swift motion, it swooshed down to your eye level.

Bushy black brows sprouted on its forehead, just a little over a pair of big brown circles for eyes. Then came the nose, followed by a bloody red mouth that snarled at you.

zzzz...

“Late again?” It drawled in a jarring tenor.

zzzz...

zzzz…

4:00 a.m., your phone blinked.

In a sleep befuddled state, your hand reached out for the wailing device. ‘Late again’, Chef’s cold, deep voice sounded in your consciousness as you wiped the droplets of sweat off your forehead.

Chef.

Doh Kyungsoo had insisted on the title and you'd defiantly refused to call him that. What business does a man working at a Kalguksu stand in Gwangjang Market have, being called a chef. You'd seeked redressal with the higher ups. The owner. Your aunt.

"Aegiya, he has something that you don't."

"A dick?"

"YAH! He has a degree in culinary arts. It's only befitting that we give him the respect his degree deserves!"

"Imo, haven't you watched Parasite? Anyone can forge documents these days and if so then why is he here? He could very well get a job at Four Seasons like Hyun Jin. Think, Imo. Think!”

“Exactly! With forged documents, he could be anywhere. But he’s here, no?”

“Maybe you’re just easier to manipulate.”

"Chef. You're calling him Chef."

Every time the egotistical madman opened that darned mouth of his, it made you want to knock him down with a roundhouse and beat the living daylights out of him.

But, with a deep breath, you always resisted the temptation.

Because one day, one glorious day, you’d take over your aunt’s business and the very first item on your agenda would be….well, the obvious. With a glimmer of hope, you floundered out of your comforter, muttering every cuss word you’d learnt...and crafted in the course of working with the devil himself.

“Ahh 3000 is a bit too much for cucumbers", he said to the middle aged vendor, flashing a boyish grin.

The face of sourcing had drastically changed in the last six months since Kyungsoo’s arrival. Prior to his dictatorship, your aunt had a tie up with some of the local vendors who’d hand deliver the produce every single day, without fail. Guess Kyungsoo didn’t fully comprehend the benefits of customer loyalty. ‘There could be better quality ingredients out there, Sajangnim...economically priced, I might add’, he’d convinced your aunt using his military corporal voice. No matter if it meant awkward break-ups with the vegetables ahjumma or the prawns ahjussi. You had to do the dirty work.

And tag along for the routine 5 a.m sourcing runs. Every morning, he greeted you with an accusatory ‘you’ve killed my cat’ expression.

You groaned, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. If only he’d quit flirting with every woman in the market and hurry up! The purchases had long exceeded the capacity of your humble cart. Flailing your numb arms awake, you urged him to speed up with a nudge of the knee but he glared at you like you’d asked him for a kidney.

Kyungsoo had a tendency to overbuy but never would he help with a single bag. ‘I don’t like to sweat’ was his excuse. Which was pretty ridiculous considering he spent over ten hours a day overseeing a scorching frying pan. But you knew better than to argue. Because as much as you loathed every fibre of his existence, he terrified you a little. The man possessed the duality of a psychopath. As fierce as he was in the Market, ruthlessly competitive even, he was quite the sweet talker. And you could bet your life on the fact that every woman - whether or not a rival - would take a bullet for him.

“Ahdeul-ah”, the woman cooed at him, making your insides violently contort, “you know how tight the market is these days. But I’ll throw in some more only for you.”

The additional weight of three kilos on your right arm ended your sourcing run for the day.

***

“Chef”, huffing, you said to him on your way out, “I had a late night last night.”

“And I need to be privy to this little nugget of unwarranted information because?” He paced ahead of you at his usual lightning speed.

“No, I meant, could we stop”, panting you continued, “could we stop for a quick cup of coffee.”

Halting abruptly, he turned around to look you in the eyes, “No.”

“Asshole!”

“I heard that.”

Monday at Choi Yoonsun’s was busier than usual.

It went by in a daze amidst a cacophony of a sizzling girdle, clanging of pots and pans and your aunt’s relentless vocalization inviting customers to the stall. Having served thousands of bowls of Kalguksu and Kimchi Mandu, you heavily relied on muscle memory to get you through a workday’s demands.

Despite its chaos and commotion, you quite enjoyed working in the Market.

Not being particularly skilled at much and having nearly flunked out of high school, cooking was the one thing that defined you. It was your safe harbour. You’d lost your father in an accident at the tender age of ten and your mother was forced to work long hours to put food on the table. So you honed your culinary skills, little by little, because you thought it vital for your own well being as well as your mother’s.

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

At the end of yet another gratifying day, you left a wet towel soaking in vinegar for Kyungsoo to clean the iron girdle and proceeded to tend to the dirty dishes.

“Yahh!” Imo called out for Kyungsoo and you, thumping her hand on the table, gesturing for you to join her.

“Ahh! Imo, there’s a huge pile of dirty dishes!” You cried, only to turn around to find that ass-kisser already at the table, schmoozing with your aunt. Hastily taking off your grubby apron, you washed your hands and wiped them clean with a rag cloth. Straightening your black shirt and flattening unruly flyaways, you rushed toward the table but she was already up and ready to leave, “We’ll have dinner together tonight. I want to have a chat with the both of you.”

“But -”

“Sajangnim”, Kyungsoo interrupted, wagging a finger in your direction, “this one’s had a late night last night -”

“Chef! So I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight. As if seeing you every day of every week wasn’t enough already!”

An overtly saccharine smile spread across your face and his jaw tightened in response.

“Aish….you two...I’m leaving now”, she sighed, shaking her head, “see you both in two hours.”

Kimchi jjigae, pajeon, tteokbokki, jajangmyeon, some leftover bibimbap with sides galore from Hong Lim Banchan Stall. She clearly had something important to talk about.

But the vibe at the dinner table just didn’t sit right with you.

The reason could be the bespectacled black hole of negativity that was seated besides you in all black clothing but there was something off about Imo.

She was being a little too...nice.

Fear gradually started to settle in your bones. Was she finally closing down? Was this delectable fare an attempt at softening the blow? After all, she’d settled her husband’s debts and her sons were doing well for themselves. Quite well, in fact. One of them was a banker and the other even went to culinary school and was working as a chef at Four Seasons’ Chinese restaurant. It only made sense for her to trade the Market’s gruelling ways for some much deserved peace and quiet.

“We’re closing down the stall”, she said coolly.

It was like a punch in the gut.

“Imo -”

“Aga”, she said resting her chin on her hand, “the Market’s given me everything. It’s given me a sense of pride...a sense of independence. It put my family back together. I used to think that I’m nothing without my husband and my sons...but the Market gave me an identity.”

A million scenarios cascading through your head drowned out your aunt’s voice. Would you now have to go back to Bucheon? Or invest in a stall of your own at the traditional Gwangjang that’d never accept your big and bold ways with cooking? And to start from scratch? With a new recipe? Kalguksu with a twist, perhaps? But you had no insight into your aunt’s special broth. She’d barely even let you whip up the hand-cut noodles.

You realized that you weren’t the only one caught in the eye of the storm. Kyungsoo’s eyes were scarily fixated on the bowl of jajangmyeon before him. His seemingly miserable state gave you a fleeting sense of relief and it was right in that moment that he chose to say something unpalatable.

“Sajangnim, you’ve worked too hard. It’s time for you to reap the fruits of your labour. We’ll be fine you don’t have to worry about us.”

Of course he’ll be fine.

All the stall-owners in the Market have been vying for him ever since the day he set foot into Choi Yoonsun’s. Whereas, you had nowhere to go. The world conveniently assumes your aunt hired you only because you were her poor sister’s daughter who she sought to help financially. Not because you had what it took to be there and survive.

"Did I say I was ready to retire?” She laughed, eyeing Kyungsoo quizzically, leaving you dumbfounded.

“Here’s the thing..I met up with a friend last month. She was looking for a buyer for her little family run marinated crabs restaurant in Gangnam. So I took out a loan, made her an offer”, balling her hands into fists she sighed, “put in the deposit...and the place is pretty much mine now!”

“IMO!”, you yelled, “why did you scare me like that! I thought I was laid off!”

“Well, it’s a big move, I’m not sure the two of you are ready to make...requires a tonne of work and I may not be able to pay half of what you earned at the Market for at least two months until we open! It’ll take us two years or so to break even and only then will I be able to afford you a pay raise. I could help you get a job at the banchan stall since you love seasoned spinach so much and Kyungsoo stands a chance at even managing one of the Pakgane stalls!”

Pakgane was the mung bean pancake stall that had gotten so popular that the owner had managed to branch out of Gwangjang. So even your beloved aunt believed that you’d make for a better “help” and Kyungsoo, a Manager.

Ugh!

“I’m coming with you”, you said firmly, “I’ve saved up a little and Mom will gladly pitch in, if need be...”

At this point, you’d expected Kyungsoo to be ready with his luggage considering the little sycophant he was but his expression was stoic, eyes still glued to the jajangmyeon bowl. It filled you with insane hope.

He was going to jump the ship...finally!

“Chef...”, you couldn’t resist, “you don’t have to worry about us...I’m more than enough for Imo. You may...”

He shot you an angry glare making you chew on your unsaid words. But you wanted to rile him just a little more. So you excused yourself to bring a bottle of ketchup and squeezed it generously atop the stack of pajeon while eyeing him maliciously.

Ketchup.

The tangy, unassuming condiment was the sole reason Kyungsoo despised you. As this dinner marked the end of his torturous regime, you celebrated with ketchup - lots of it - right in front of his nasty eyes.

Steam swirled in different directions and at every twenty metres a contrastive redolence tickled your olfactory senses. Experiencing Gwangjang as a customer was a far richer experience compared to the donkeywork involved in a life as a vendor.

A proper send-off was essential lest Kyungsoo decided to stay, even if it burned a hole in your pocket. You planned on giving him a final tour of the Market where he (and you) could say his goodbyes while receiving a premium fuel of vitamins, minerals and carbs.

A whole lot of carbs.

“Let’s start with Pakgane”, said Kyungsoo, with a skewered sausage in his hand.

You shook your head in response. You wanted to start with the best and mung bean pancakes weren’t it. This was going to be a farewell he’d never forget.

With every step you took, the aroma of scallops drizzled with butter and cheese grew stronger. You started your tour by ordering two portions of the delectable street food which set you back considerably. But you were too elated to care. You refused Kyungsoo’s offer to pay as the woman set the scallops on fire with a blow torch.

“Do you know what that technique’s called?” Kyungsoo gave a little nod in the direction of the aflame food.

Another teachable moment.

You’d made a firm resolve to not let any of his condescension bog you down so with a sweet smile, you replied, “No, Chef. I do not.”

“Flambé. But minus the alcohol. Do you know how they manage that?”

The ahjumma came to your rescue and you jumped to collect the order. You could’ve sworn that you caught the corner of his mouth twitch slightly.

***

The Market supposedly looked the same as it did fifty years ago and you quite enjoyed eating your way through it. The tour made your heart grapple with nostalgia even though your partner’s personality was akin to a mug of insipid coffee.

Although you’d spent only a little over a year with Choi Yoonsun, the goodbyes were long and hard. Some of the vendors squeezed you and Kyungsoo in heart wrenching hugs, the others gave you a little cash to help you through the transition and for some of the food, you paid in smiles and love.

After a gastronomic fiesta that entailed tteokbokki, pajeon (minus the ketchup - you did it Kyungsoo’s way), sashimi, kimbap, different types of banchan, a thousand more teachable moments, the both of you ended the day on a sweet note with hotteok.

The ahjussi wished you both luck, making you choke back tears.

Kyungsoo noticed.

“Are you…. Is the hotteok spicy? No, I mean it’s obviously not...erm”

The dam of your tears burst.

You were going to miss this place. Even the less appealing aspects of it. You were going to miss the kimbap unnie who greeted you with a hug everyday, also the snooty mandu ahjumma who could hardly stand the sight of you. You were even going to miss washing dishes in the winters with water that was supposed to be ice and the sweltering summers which had you sweating through every layer of clothing.

Hell, you were even going to miss Kyungsoo.

“No”, you sniffled, “No, no Chef, it’s nothing. Take care of yourself. As much as I’m glad that our fateful working relationship has met its rightful end, I truly, genuinely, wish you luck. And learn to smile more often, yeah?”

“Are you dying?” He gleamed.

“What? NO! What? You’re leaving. What is wrong with you?”

“Who says I’m leaving?”

“You! You’re not coming with us to Gangnam!”

“Says who?”

“Your stupid face that looked like it was hit by a freight train when Imo broke the news last week!”

“I’m not leaving?” He mused.

“This is no time to joke, Chef. You are leaving!”

“Says who!”

“Your stu-”

“Stupid face? I wasn’t planning on leaving at all. I’ve even found myself a place close to the restaurant. Oh yeah, sorry for having misled you. It was really just - my stupid face.”

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j9only · 3 years

Photo

Today with J9 Rumours are pouring in about all the contestants, One said either Patrick or Nine made such an impression on Sunday that the mentors said he could definitely take a spot in the debuting group. So High compliments there. Confirmation was also given that Nine is no longer in possession of his phone, so the updates from him will all come from official sources or instructed fan accounts. It is also rumoured that ranks have been decided for the first set of the show. Chuang works with ranks to determine talent and screentime. Rank A is said to be 11 members, so those would be the 11 current trainees that should be in the boyband. Tomorrow (Tuesday) the boys will finally move into the dorms, so today they got one last rest day in their hotel. Though they might not be spending the nights in the dorm, as other rumours are talking about the boys going into the forest for their first challenges. Chuang2021 is starting to look a lot like Chuang2019 which many fans find disheartening because that season treated the boys very badly. With overcrowded dorms of 50 men per room, no real personal space. And insane challenges that have nothing to do with being an idol such as running 10 miles with their backpack. It’s also winter in China, so I hope if they do go to the forest they won’t be staying in tents, but have houses they will be lodging in. Regardless We wish Nine a lot of luck, cause these shows get crazy and hard, and any care for their mental, emotional or psychical well-being is not there. Onto Joong: One fan saw him on Sunday and posted this one Weibo:

I showed joong the video of nine in the #CHUANG2021 ‘s conference, and joong laughed so happily. When he knew I was going to see nine, he asked me to say Hi to nine for him. I shipped so much! (pic 1) How cute is that! J9 still being J9. And as always Joong is captain of the ship ^^. She showed him the video where Nine introduces himself and it’s the cutest thing who happy he laughs at it. Joong looked super fashionable outside going to the dance studios. (pic 2) And then he posted on IG from the hotelroom asking us if we were okay and telling us he was. (pic 3)

Pic 4: Nine on Sunday Pic 5: Joong on Monday Other news: Earth has been cast to play a role in Secret Admire, an upcoming BL director by P’Aam (2moons2). So he’s back to work. And MV launched the twitter account of 2moons3, the Ambassador. But quickly put it on private. But looks like casting will start soon.

#twj9 #Nine's already up btw #first footage of 19/1 got posted #but that is for in 2/3 days ^^

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akitokihojo · 4 years

Text

Delicate - Chapter 7

Inuyasha sighed out, a barely-visible puff of air appearing before his face as he walked along the length of the gate outside of the schoolyard. He felt abnormally exhausted this morning, and like anyone, he blamed it on the fact that it was Monday, the clouds were dreary, and he may have been up late playing video games. He had a chemistry test this afternoon, and he could only hope to wake up a little more by then to properly focus.

He’d caught her scent just before entering the building, his attention blindly following his nose as his eyes scoured the grounds for her. She wasn’t that far off, standing in a misshapen circle with Sango and three other girls, one of them enthusiastically telling a story that had the lot of them giggling. That smile, the rosy color of her cheeks, the way the tip of her nose was a light shade of pink from the chill of their morning, it was all like a buzz of caffeine for him. The more he watched, the more he listened to the melody of her laugh, the lighter he began to gradually feel.

Kagome was wearing black tights beneath her charcoal uniform skirt this morning as opposed to the knee-high socks she usually opted for, sparing her legs from the small nip in the air. Over her white button up, she donned a dark, knitted sweater, the baggy sleeves shielding her fingers. But, her neck wasn’t covered. Sure, her hair was worn down, waving over her shoulders in their natural order, but what good was that compared to something literally manufactured to keep heat in? The dummy was just asking for a cold. Whatever combatant thought that formulated in his head deliberately went ignored as he turned away from the building to walk toward her, a horrible fluttering expanding throughout his abdomen. Sango’s gaze met him first as he approached, then Kagome’s as the group of girls’ chatter died off into a curious and muddled silence. God, he didn’t think there was anything capable of rivaling the annoying sensation in his stomach at the moment, but when she smiled wider at him as he stopped just a foot or two before her, his heart gave a thunderous pound that he worried would wound his ribcage. His cheeks went hot, then his nose, then the remainder of his face, and the thought of his evident blush only made him heat up furthermore. Her greeting was soft and happy, bringing him to huff out, his jaw clenching, and his amber eyes drifting off to the side. As planned, Inuyasha removed the muffler from his neck, untwisting it so he could hand it over. From his peripherals, he gathered that she was confused, not immediately taking it from him, so he decidedly did the damn job himself before he ended up spontaneously combusting from flames of embarrassment. Carefully, the hanyou looped it behind her neck, twisted, then looped it again so it bunched properly to keep her warm, her raven hair billowed beneath.

She was staring up at him with large eyes, her pink lips pinching together then growing into a shy and appreciative smile. Son of a bitch, she was fucking cute.

He walked away, heading toward the entrance of the building without a single word, and Kagome’s blush maddened as her friends made hushed and cheery noises at what had just happened.

“So, what? Are you guys together now?”

“When did you two even become a thing?”

“Wasn’t that Inuyasha? I’ve never seen him not mad.”

“Nah, he still looked mad. Just a flustered sort of mad.”

“And to think just a couple days ago you were worried.” Sango teased.

“Yeah, but y-you know happened.” Kagome said, feeling like she was standing under an intense spotlight.

“Uh, we don’t!” Eri stated, bringing the attention back to them. “Hello, hi. Details, please.”

“Oh, look at the time.” Kagome pulled back the sleeve of her left hand to look at the invisible watch along her wrist, beginning to walk backward toward their school building. “I need to - I’ve gotta - I mean, class is starting soon, so yeah. Bye.”

Sango laughed, waving and knowing full and well that her friend was heading to catch up with her favored half demon.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell us?”

“Sorry, guys.” She shrugged, smiling. “The best friend privilege is knowing, and the code is not spilling business that isn’t mine to spill.”

Kagome wandered over to his locker in the third row, spotting him just as he closed the small, metal door. He glanced over, his eyes never leaving her as she sauntered his way, and though his cheeks continued to reveal some of his timidness, a soft smile on his lips further ignited the spark between them.

“I don’t need it back if that’s what you’re about to ask.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

“After school. Keep it until then.”

“I actually came to walk with you. If that’s okay?”

“You don’t need to ask, dummy.” Inuyasha replied, though there was the hint of tension in his tone. He gave a notch of his head to lead the way, shoving his hands into his pant pockets to appear as casual as possible. She walked at his side, just as close as they’d walked on Saturday night, and he found it to be a source of comfort. Progressively, his preservation melted away with her warmth, wanting less to hide his affection behind a barricade and wanting more to give it to her so she’d always smile like she had before.

“So, uh, how’d you do on your last math test?” He asked as they began their ascent up the stairs and to the second floor where their classes were.

“Oh, I totally forgot! I meant to show you!” Kagome opened her book bag at her side, pulling out the quiz after wiggling it free from between two notebooks. She held it out, positively beaming and excited for him to see her accomplishment.

Inuyasha took in the “B” next to her name before taking the paper into his grip, a smile of his own forming as his pride for her swelled. “This is the best one yet! Soon you’re not even gonna need my help.”

“I don’t know about that.” She quickly countered, a little nervous at the sound of losing any easy opportunity to see him outside of school. “I still struggle a bit. And, I mean, you do call me a dummy.”

“Not as an insult.” He chuckled, handing the test back to her so she could shove it back into her bag.

“It originated for a reason, and then just became an endearment of sorts.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb.” Inuyasha said, still smiling. He glanced at her, noticing the uncertainty in her eyes, shielded behind a small grin. Was she looking for validation? He felt something click in him, like he didn’t actually need to question what she wanted. The quick rebut she’d served just a moment ago to his comment, the look she was giving, the warm sensation building in his chest - it made it easy not to second guess his intuition. This was an understanding he’d been privileged to receive from being with her so often, from falling in love. Not a part of him desired to resist what surprisingly and so simply came to him right now, the back of his hand grazing her knuckles until he hooked one of her fingers with his own. They both stopped walking, and he pulled her closer by another inch. “Relax. I’m not going anywhere; we’ll still study together. Maybe you’ll even end up tutoring me.”

“Doubtful.” Kagome muttered with a shy smile, her finger gently clutching his in return.

“Which part?”

“Me tutoring you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He chuckled, her responding giggle like a gift. The bell rang and he knew the halls were about to get busy as everyone filtered through to class. He took the opportunity he had, never letting go of her finger. “Tomorrow? I’ll walk you home and we can study.”

“Okay.” She nodded, smiling.

Using his free hand, Inuyasha twirled some strands of her hair around his finger, ones that were short, and framed her jaw, and weren’t held captive by the muffler like the rest of it all still was. “Come on, dummy.” He grinned, leading her to her class with a yank on her finger.

—

Sango puffed out her cheeks in a mock pout, standing by a tree with her arms crossed over her chest after school. “Call me repetitive, but I still cannot believe you’re ditching me for a boy today.”

“You’re repetitive.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not even ditching you,” Kagome laughed. “I said he’d be walking with us. You’re the one who chose to walk home alone.”

“Excuse me, look me in the eyes and tell me I’m third wheel material. I dare you.”

She laughed a little harder from her best friend’s dramatic exasperation. “He’s walked with us before, Sango! It’s just like every other time.”

“Bull and baloney! The last time he walked with us was before you guys got over the majority of your romantic constipation.” Sango ignored the weird look that took over Kagome’s expression, proceeding on with her argument without hesitance. “Things are better now, you’ve both gotten a clue - thank god - and moves are being made. When he said he wanted to walk you home, he meant he wanted to walk you home. Therefore, if I tag along until we hit my route, he’s gonna be uncomfortable up until then and I’m gonna be the cockblock.”

“What? Not even!”

“Oh, yeah.”

“So, you’re just gonna avoid us forever now? This is it? Whenever Inuyasha wants to come with, you’re out?” Kagome grinned, leaning her head to the side in a playful challenge.

“No, of course not. Not forever. When you guys are in an established relationship - and by established, I mean passed the mushy crap - then I’ll make my return. Maybe even sooner if I land myself a stud, because then I wouldn’t be a third wheel.” Sango shrugged.

“You’ve got one guy in mind that can’t even talk to you passed ‘hello,’ so that could take a while.”

“See you on the flip side, my main gal.”

“You realize then that this isn’t me choosing a guy over you, but you choosing your pride over everything?”

“You bet, but I’m still blaming you.”

“You know what? I’m gonna do you a favor.” Kagome cocked a brow, her smile shifting into one of deviousness.

“What? No, wait. No. I know that look, and I hate it. What are you gonna do?” Sango’s face twisted in suspicion, her brows furrowing deeply as Kagome turned about, seemingly searching the school grounds. She had a sinking feeling in her chest as a scheme had obviously just popped into Kagome’s head, and who had she just mentioned? Bad, not good, very bad. “Kay, I swear to Zeus if you -“

“Oh, there they are!” Kagome beamed, practically skipping her way over to the pair of far-off boys.

“I have no best friend!” Sango hissed, quickly ducking herself to hide behind the tree.

Inuyasha’s golden stare transferred from his friend to her as she approached, the plain expression he held while Miroku talked changing to a gentle grin. He notched his head in a silent greeting while his friend finished his sentence.

“Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She apologized, stopping before them, a little closer to Inuyasha than in the center.

“Nothing to worry about.” Miroku kindly dismissed. “Since you’re here, let me ask you something: Do you prefer me with or without the rattail? I need a lady’s perspective.”

“Oh, god no, definitely without.” Kagome answered a little too quickly, giving a small grimace when she realize how rude it could have come off, especially as Inuyasha stifled his snorted laugh. “I mean, it’s your choice, of course! I just think the style is a bit outdated. And, this shorter cut suits you much better. Were you thinking of growing it back?”

“Wow. Not anymore.” Miroku blinked, pinching his lips into a tight line.

“Thank you.” Inuyasha boasted, like he’d finally gotten his way. He gave another small nod to Kagome, gesturing in the direction of the gate. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Hang on, I have a question.” She said, stopping Inuyasha before he could lead her off. She looked over at his friend, watching him go from feigned defeat to slightly curious when he realized it was for him. “I’m sorry if this is none of my business, but do you mind if I be a little upfront for a moment and ask how you feel about Sango?”

“Oh god, you’re gonna break him.” Inuyasha murmured beside her.

“No, I promise I won’t tell her anything. I’m just wondering.” Kagome assured.

“You mean, I haven’t made it painstakingly obvious?” Miroku asked monotonously, his grin devoid of any real emotion.

“So, you like her?”

“Something like that.”

“Why haven’t you asked her out?”

“Remember that time, a few months ago, when I stopped you guys on your way home from school?”

“Yeah.”

“I was going to try and get her number then. I had a classic pickup line planned and everything, and yet the only thing that came out of my mouth was her name. I can’t function around her. I panic around her. I freeze, I sputter, and I shave a few years off my life every time I’m around her. You see my problem?”

“Okay, you’re not good with girls. It’s fine, you’ve gotta start some-“

“I’m fantastic with girls, you take that back!” Miroku retorted defensively.

“Really? You can actually claim that right now?” Kagome earnestly asked.

“You really think you have the room to talk when you two still aren’t even dating?” Miroku chided, pointing to both Inuyasha and Kagome. He didn’t even have time to flinch before Inuyasha slugged him in the arm, his pained groan gurgled and deep. “Okay, withdrawn!” He clutched the offended spot, respectfully ignoring Kagome’s embarrassment as he continued speaking to buffer the awkwardness. “Look, there’s just something about her that fucks me up. Little-by-little, I’m talking! I’m getting better! I’m growing! I’m not always melting down like I used to! I’ll get there eventually!”

“What if I make it a little easier on you?” She offered with a simple shrug.

“How?”

“Give me your number and I’ll give it to her. That way, you don’t have to stress yourself out by asking for hers, and that’s one objective down.”

“Wait,” Miroku tilted his head skeptically. “Are you - are you saying she’s interested?”

Kagome feigned a believable frown. “Actually, I don’t know.” She lied. “Sango’s a pretty private person. She doesn’t often talk about her feelings, even to me. I’m just doing this to help you out. You’re a nice guy, and I’m her best friend. Easy in-between.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“No catch?”

“She said no catch. Just do it.” Inuyasha griped. “You’ve been going on and on about this since last year, and now you’re gonna question the opportunity?”

“Because, there’s gotta be a catch! She owes me nothing - you owe me nothing. So, why do me a favor?”

“No catch.” Kagome repeated, shaking her head. “Honestly, I’m just a nice person. If you want to do it yourself, by all means. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable or push you to do something you don’t want to do. But, if I do it, we eliminate the potential to wreck yourself even more in front of her, and then the ball’s in her court. If she’s interested, she’ll text or call, if not, then nothing happens and you have your answer. Besides, I think she’s already headed home, so I can talk you up a little and say you wanted to give it to her today but she’d already left so you gave it to me to pass on.”

“No catch?”

“No catch.”

“No one’s that nice.”

“I am. Oh, and just think. It’s always easier to talk through text because you have time to think through what you want to say before you say it.”

“He’ll still mess it up.” Inuyasha quietly mentioned.

“Nah, I don’t think he will.” She said, smiling, redirecting the conversation back to Miroku. “Then, you’ll adjust, realize Sango’s super easy to talk to and there’s nothing to be nervous about, and talking to her in person will be as normal as talking to anyone else.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah okay. You drive a hard bargain, Higurashi.” Miroku eagerly opened his bag, bringing out his notebook and opening it to the first empty page. “Inuyasha, your pen.” He requested, holding his hand out as the half demon pulled his pen from his front, pant pocket. Taking the writing utensil and clicking the ballpoint end out, he began scribbling along the upper-right corner.

Kagome could tell it wasn’t just his number he was jotting down, but she didn’t try to peek, instead giving a quick side-glance to Inuyasha and winking so he knew she had this planned. Miroku tore the edge of the paper, folding up his little note and handing it over to Kagome which she happily took and slipped into the small pocket at the front of her book bag.

“Say something nice about me when you see her.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Now, can we go?” Inuyasha spoke, taking back his pen and sliding it into his front pocket once more. Kagome smiled, giving a nod and waving goodbye to his best friend before walking off with him toward the exit. As soon as they were out of the gate, and effectively out of earshot of Miroku - who had to stay behind for his stupid student council committee - he shot her a sly look. “What was that all about?”

“Just helping things along.” She replied, giving a measly shrug.

“Ka-go-me!” The shout was menacing and chilling, over-enunciated for full, grounding effect, and bringing Kagome to look wearily toward a fuming Sango who was running right toward her. Hastily, she dodged around the half demon, using him as a shield to protect herself from the temperament of her best friend.

Inuyasha stood stiffly between the two, thoroughly confused and unsure whether this was actually something he should literally be in the middle of.

“No! Wait! Don’t be mad, I didn’t do anything wrong!” Kagome proclaimed.

“What did you say!?” Sango asked, brows pinching together but no real malice to her tone. She was frantic for an answer, and naturally defensive, but Kagome should have known better than to pull one of Sango’s own stunts on her.

“Nothing about you!”

“Freaking liar!”

“No, I swear! I didn’t! In fact, the one question he asked about you, I lied about and turned the subject back on him!”

“And, what was the subject, Kagome!?”

“About whether he liked you or not!”

“Oh my god! You can’t just ask someone that!” Sango cried, shoving her face into her palms.

“What!? On Saturday, you said -“

Sango shushed her, the noise high pitched and tense. “I know what I said, but that advice wasn’t for me!”

“If it’s any consolation, he said yes!”

“He did!?”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her.” Inuyasha mentioned, turning his head to peculiarly glance at her from the side.

“Oh, because it wouldn’t be obvious when I gave her his number?” Kagome retorted, not yet coming out from the shelter his body provided.

“What?” Sango asked, slightly shocked.

“Yeah, see,” Kagome fished the folded up paper out of the pocket of her bag, sliding her arm around Inuyasha’s waist to hand it over. Her friend snatched the note like a monkey snagging a banana from its handler, unfolding it to read its contents. “I didn’t read it, I promise. He really wanted me to give that to you.”

Sango studied what was written, her cheeks becoming a bright shade of pink before lowering the small shred of paper to peer at Kagome, her eyes large and pleading. “Did you seriously ask him for his number for me? He’s gonna think I’m desperate!”

“No! I offered to give you his number for him! I told him I didn’t know if you liked him, but I just wanted to do him a favor.”

“And, he fell for that?”

“Yup. Whatever else that says is all him. I didn’t suggest a note, just the number.”

Sango quickly handed the note to Kagome, making sure Inuyasha didn’t glance to read it, her hand held open for Kagome to return it when she was done.

I’m sorry I’m weird around you. I literally get dumbstruck by your beauty. I don’t want to mess up anymore, so here’s my number. Give me a chance. - Miroku.

Kagome beamed, slipping the small piece of paper back into Sango’s palm. “So, what do you think?”

“I don’t know. He really has no idea how I feel?”

“Look, I can honestly tell you he didn’t suspect a thing. You can go into this whatever way you want, and the guy wouldn’t know the difference.” Inuyasha testified, leaning his head to the side in a careless manner.

“You,” Sango pointed up at the hanyou’s face, a scowl forming on her own, successfully intimidating him as he flinched back an inch. “Will keep this conversation to yourself, got it? I mean it. Don’t tell him anything that happened here.”

“How are you so scary for a small chick?” He held his hands out defensively in front of him.

“My dad’s a cop.”

“Ah.”

“Believe me, he won’t say anything.” Kagome assured, finally coming out of hiding. “So, are you gonna text him?”

“You’ll find out when your friendship timeout is up.” Sango sneered, pursing her lips and crossing her arms.

“How long!?” Kagome pouted.

“To be determined.” She shrugged, walking off to take a different route home.

“Determine!”

“Two hours.”

“Hours?”

“You’ll be busy anyway, so you won’t even notice.”

“Sango!”

“Bye!” She waved from behind, crossing the street.

“You guys are weird.” Inuyasha remarked, walking on ahead.

“You really won’t tell, right?” Kagome asked, upping her speed to reach his side again.

“What? That Sango likes Miroku? Nah.” He confirmed, his tone level as he gave a small shake of his head. “I kind of figured you wouldn’t just do Miroku a favor out of the blue like that. Even before you winked.”

“So, you blindly backed me up?”

“Yup. Stupid, huh?”

She smiled, turning her head so he wouldn’t see how happy it had made her. The muffled chime of Inuyasha’s phone went off in his pocket, bringing her attention back his way as he pulled it out, his brows giving a small twitch together as he whispered an apology to her and answered.

“What’s up?” She couldn’t hear who was talking on the other end, but she continued walking at his side, minding her business to the best of her abilities, even when Inuyasha grumbled. He stopped walking, pinching the back of her sweater with his free hand to make her stay with him, his head lolling back in exasperation. “Yeah, fine, I’ll go check. I swear, you’re getting too old to leave the house.”

He hung up, grimacing deeply. “My uncle thinks he left the stove on and he won’t be back until late. I can run home real quick and I’ll meet you at your place. That okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kagome nodded understandingly. He flashed a small grin, his pace hastening slightly as he walked ahead to the corner, about to cross to the right where she’d just go straight. She watched him stop even though it was perfectly safe for him to go, an unsure expression on his lips as he pressed them together, eventually turning back to her as she finally reached the corner, herself.

“Unless, um, unless you just want to come with me? It’ll be a quick stop.”

Her smile grew brightly, her nod coming before her brain could actually initiate the response. When he smiled back and notched his head for her to follow, she couldn’t help the wild flutter that made home in her belly. She’d never been to his place before. She was excited.

As if things couldn’t get any better, he’d grabbed her sleeve, pulling her closer to walk at his side again. In all honesty, she’d expected him to let go once he’d gotten his way, but he didn’t. He held onto her sleeve, keeping her with him as they walked, the silence undeniably comfortable. Kagome wondered if it would be okay to actually hold his hand. Would it make him shy away? They practically held hands yesterday, so they may as well, right? Was this the way he preferred it, or should she make the move? Maybe she’d try it slowly to properly read the situation. Because, she really, really, wanted to hold his hand.

Carefully, she angled her hand upward, her forearm following through as necessary, so she could brush the side of his fingers with her own. He didn’t look at her, nor did she look up at him, their eyes straight ahead or on their surroundings. His hand didn’t inch away, and his grip on her knitted sweater slackened, even more so as she brushed his fingers again. That second time, though, she slipped one of her fingers in the curve of his hand, then another when he welcomed her in, helping to build her courage. Inuyasha dropped his hold on her sleeve entirely, taking her hand in his, accepting the way she entwined their fingers and steadily following suit with his own grip.

Maybe it was due to her infatuation with the boy, but she sincerely felt safe with her hand in his; protected from everything uninviting the world may put before her. After a moment, her embarrassment even faded away, far quicker than she’d ever expected it to. His hand was large and hot, engulfing and wonderfully gentle, his nails never a threat to her, but his unexpected tenderness was, his thumb smoothly rubbing back and forth over the back of her palm, threatening to provoke an eruption of butterflies in her abdomen.

“It’s this one.” Inuyasha said, guiding her through the small, front gate and pulling his small set of keys out of the pocket of his bag. Begrudgingly, he pulled his hand free from hers to open the door, letting her walk through first before following in and shutting it behind him. “Come on.” He walked up the hall a bit, her small, padded footsteps close behind him as he took a left into the kitchen, seeing the stove was off all along.

“False alarm?” Kagome giggled.

“Better safe than sorry with that guy.” He groaned.

“Your home is nice.” She smiled, turning about to look at the small amount of decoration in the kitchen. It was a man’s home, that was for sure; it didn’t have a typical woman’s touch to it. Nonetheless, it was comfortable, kempt, and rustic.

“Well, it’s his. Totosai’s.” Inuyasha corrected with a dismissive shrug, sauntering back into the hall and toward the living room, making sure she followed.

“You live here, don’t you? And, he adopted you, so I’m sure you’re more than welcome to call this place yours.”

“I don’t know, sometimes I feel out of place.”

“You’ll only make yourself feel more out of place the more you say things like that.”

The half demon turned to her, brows furrowing speculatively. There was no animosity behind it; in fact, his smirk prodded her to elaborate.

“Like, okay say I’m feeling insecure about my looks. I don’t feel very pretty or attractive, and it’s weighing on me. I look at myself in the mirror and then I tell myself I’m ugly. Not just once, but I end up telling myself that on a regular basis. The insecurity will definitely sink through a lot faster than it would if I maybe told myself the opposite. I’d believe it wholeheartedly then. And after that, I’d never feel comfortable in my skin, or my dresses, or skirts, or jeans, or maybe even my frumpy clothes. No amount of makeup would do the trick, either, because what I did was empower my self-consciousness. I didn’t do myself any favors by allowing myself to think my negative thoughts were true. I, instead, made my own situation worse. Why do that? Insecurities, on any level, are natural, and sometimes it’s hard to convince yourself of the opposite, but it’s so much more worth it to try. And, you’d be happier when you come out.” She took a step closer to him, smiling. Inuyasha merely gazed down at her, no air of discomfort about; he simply listened. “Your situation - it’s understandable. I’d even be so bold to say it’s natural to feel out of sorts sometimes. This wasn’t the home you pictured living in as a child, and those feelings don’t need to go neglected. But, this is a home you’ve been welcomed into. Your uncle signed the papers and brought you here. I’m gonna assume you have your own bedroom, and furniture, and your clothes fit you properly so he’s definitely providing for you. You’ve got a key, and look -“ Her grin grew larger, her enthusiasm a little too pronounced as she turned to the mantle and spotted a candid picture of Inuyasha as a pre-teen, sitting on a park bench with much shorter hair. “He’s even proud to have photos of you on display. This is definitely your home.”

Quickly, flustered Inuyasha walked the few paces over to the picture and slammed it down. “Alright, alright. You made your point.” He drawled, looking back at her. “You’ve got a motivational speech for everything, don’t you?”

“Pretty much.” She giggled.

“Mind if I go change out of my uniform real quick?”

“Go for it.”

Inuyasha walked out to the hall, leaving Kagome in the living room, his stomach feeling heavy while his chest fluttered with something uncertain. He’d stopped at the frame of the entry, his hand braced on the polished wood as he looked back at her over his shoulder, watching how she didn’t even seem to notice he was still there. She was carefully resetting the picture of him that he’d planted facedown, the pads of her fingers smoothing over the edge of the cheap frame.

“Is that what you were feeling?” The half demon asked, his tone husky. Kagome turned to him, slightly surprised, but the notch her head gave told him she didn’t immediately grasp what he was referring to. “Saturday. When you were sad. You mentioned insecurity. Was it because you didn’t feel beautiful?”

Kagome’s nerves flared dully, a small lump beginning to form in her throat. His amber eyes appeared gentle, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d thought of that night since. The shake of her head came slow at first, hardly there, but then grew into something more steady and honest.

“Will you tell me?”

She swallowed, her lips parting slightly. She still wasn’t fully comfortable talking about it, the humiliation remaining fresh, but he wanted to know and her reservation was superficial. He’d been opening up to her, trusting her, and she should do the same. He’d dropped whatever he was doing and ran to her that night. Literally ran. He calmed her down, he walked her home, he held her. Just him asking, revisiting the topic, had her feeling warmly invited to rely on him with her emotions, despite the minor apprehension holding her tongue. And, if the logic of the situation wasn’t enough, the patience he was exuding as he stood in place and waited for her to speak was. There was no caution in his expression, because there was no caution necessary between the two of them at the moment. The feeling she was receiving from him was almost the same as what she’d tried to procure during her little speech just moments ago. Safety and comfort. And, though Kagome wasn’t suddenly confident in spilling her vulnerability - as anyone would naturally feel - it wasn’t hard to let him in.

“I -“ The hesitance wasn’t planned, but she breathed to push passed it, her eyes inadvertently shying to the ground. “I wasn’t quite sure how you felt about me. I was constantly going back and forth with myself. After a while, it became too much and, um, yeah. That’s what Saturday was all about.”

Inuyasha tensed slightly, entirely unsuspecting of what she’d just stated. He’d racked his brain numerous times since Saturday night, since seeing her cry and feeling the way she clutched onto him for support, pretending he knew the deep ins and outs of Kagome’s mind so he could try and figure out what, exactly, she’d been feeling so he was better prepared to help her out of it should the situation occur again. The typical scenario that pops into a person’s head when told another is feeling insecure is looks, and he felt rotten just thinking a girl as gorgeous as she didn’t feel comfortable in her own body. He’d almost taken it as absolute confirmation when she’d brought up the hypothetical scenario just now. Another idea was her grades, or her future - because she’s in her final year of high school, and what senior isn’t panicking about their future at the moment - or maybe even something pertaining to her family. More specifically, playing backup guardian to her younger brother to help her hardworking mother out. That could easily weigh on a person, and he wouldn’t blame her for crumbling out of sight from the pressure. Inuyasha was almost prepared to make a list of the many positive attributes this one girl holds so he could help her see what he sees; so he could hopefully prevent another breakdown in the future. For some reason, he never thought it was about him. Not with how she was the first to walk into his arms, or with how she called him when she was fighting off tears. After that night, she must have understood how he felt about her, but that’s only three days of security. It made sense now that he thought about it; the half demon wasn’t known for his open displays of affection. There had never necessarily been a person he wanted to be openly affectionate with until now. As he had been coming to terms with his own emotions, gradually forcing himself out of his damaging and abrasive habits, somewhere along the lines he’d just assumed she knew. And, only ended up confusing her. That’s a good chunk of time that they weren’t on the same page, and he had no fucking idea. If she needed more obvious gestures, he could provide that. It was nerve-racking, but he would do it for her.

“Well, I hope you feel better now, because that’s a stupid thing to get upset about.” He watched as she seemingly took in his response, a small smile curving her lips, comprehending his language. “Wait for me, I’ll be right back.”

He came down the stairs, adjusting his hoodie as he went, spotting Kagome at a bookshelf at the far end of the living room as he came back through. Her brown eyes were glued on a photograph, never peering away to look at him as he approached.

“My dad.” He spoke, stopping just inches behind her.

“You look so much like him.” Kagome seemed almost astonished by the resemblance.

“Just the hair. I think I look more like my mom.”

“And the jawline.”

“And the jawline.” Inuyasha chuckled, nodding as he agreed.

“Is that your uncle with him?”

“Yeah, that’s the geezer. Come on, let’s go.”

She smiled up at him happily, following him out the door, waiting for him on the sidewalk outside the gate while he locked up. As he strode back over to her, he gave the shoulder of her sweater a small yank to lead her down the path he took to her place, his fingers casually sliding down the front of her arm until he reached her hand, tangling their fingers as they’d been before.

Their notes and homework assignments were sprawled on the floor of her bedroom between them, mostly used for reference when necessary as he quizzed her with random questions, a movie playing on the tv for soft background noise and their backs resting against the side of her bed.

“Wait, you already asked me that one!” Kagome complained, scrounging through the papers before her for the answer.

“Yeah, you got it wrong the first time, and you still can’t remember the answer I gave you.” He responded, his tone brassy but amused, breathily chuckling as he watched her go from one sheet of scribbled notes to another.

“It’s here somewhere.”

“You never wrote it down.”

“Dang it, Inuyasha!”

“Not my problem!”

“You probably distracted me.”

“It isn’t hard to do.”

Quickly, he protected his face with his hands, laughing as Kagome chucked a small, decorative pillow at him.

“So funny.” She mocked, reaching over and grabbing his notes from beside his knee. “Oh.”

“Hm?” His ear closest to her flicked, waiting expectantly for her to give him the answer.

“Oda Nobunaga.”

“So much for being a history buff, huh?” He remarked.

“You’re so sassy tonight.” Kagome laughed, putting his notes back where they once were.

“Okay, chemistry question: What’s the formula for hydrochloric acid?”

“Do you even know that off the top of your head?” She countered, grimacing.

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“What a nerd.” Kagome murmured, once more shifting through her study material. She sighed out slowly as she searched, her face scrunching like usual, and bringing the paper closer to her face, neglecting the glasses on her nightstand. “H-C-I.”

“Good. Since you’re looking at it, phosphoric acid?”

“H-3-P-O-4.”

“Mhm. Now put the notes down. The next question I ask, you should know by now.”

“Oh no.” She grumbled, complying.

“It’s easy. Say you borrow ten-thousand dollars from the bank. By the time you pay it off, you’ve paid a total amount of ten-thousand, four-hundred. What’s the additional four-hundred represent?”

“Oh, interest!”

“Good. See?” He smiled. “One last question and then I’ve gotta go. You ready?”

She hummed an affirmation, nodding as she turned to fully face him.

“It’s gonna be the toughest one. You get it right and I’ll take you out for ice cream.”

Kagome smiled eagerly, whispering an okay as she waited.

“Alright, you sure?”

“Come on.” She half-whined, the anticipation spiking. She wondered just how hard the question was going to be considering he used a reward as incentive.

“Okay, what’s sixteen divided by two?”

“What? It’s eight.” Kagome laughed lightly, brows furrowing in query.

“Yup.” He feigned a defeated sigh, shrugging and gathering his notes together. “Fair is fair. You busy Saturday?”

“No, I’m free.” She smiled, thrown off since she was sincerely expecting a tricky question.

“Great, I’ll take you out on our date then.”

She perked, her expression faltering minutely out of surprise but then growing into one of subtle elation. “Date?”

Inuyasha picked himself up off the floor, bringing the strap of his bag to rest over his shoulder. He glanced down at her as she followed suit and stood, shrugging his brows and smiling slightly in a meager response to her question. “See you tomorrow.”

“Wait, I’ll walk you out.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He said, opening the door to her bedroom and giving her head a gentle shove backward. “I’ll text you when I get home.

—

He crossed the street, seeing the designated meet-up spot in the short distance, the sun still barely keeping the sky illuminated. Hues of fading orange and pink danced on patches of clouds overhead, a deep indigo overriding the majority of the sky. He didn’t see her at the statue, and he was glad he’d beat her; he didn’t like the idea of her sitting alone waiting for him. As he approached, he pulled his phone out of the front pocket of his black jeans, making sure she hadn’t texted.

His stomach was in absolute shambles, his nerves riddled and wired. Their first date. It was about time, yeah, but that didn’t make the ordeal any less unsettling. He’d never technically done this before, so his worst fear was fucking it up. He tried pretending it was just another ordinary hang out so he’d calm down a bit, but he knew that wasn’t true. This was a date. He was finally taking Kagome out on a date. He figured when they got the ball rolling, it would be a lot smoother since being around each other was easier than he’d ever imagined it would be, but up until then he felt just about ready to puke.

To busy himself as he waited, Inuyasha adjusted his grey t-shirt beneath his jacket, making sure it didn’t look too wrinkled or disheveled. He knew people were technically supposed to dress up for occasions such as these, but outside of his school uniform, he refused to wear another button up unless absolutely necessary. It wasn’t his style. He still looked appropriate, and he vaguely remembered the way her eyes lingered on him the last time he wore this shirt around her.

“Well, well, well.” Inuyasha’s gaze, heating instantly, shot to the side, landing on the tall, slender delinquent that ambled over. He’d been so distracted waiting for Kagome that he hadn’t even fucking noticed the scent of the motherfucker. “Look who it is.”

“Fuck.” Inuyasha breathed, the word dragging out hoarsely. “I’ll give you twenty bucks to leave me alone tonight.”

“Who do I look like, Jakotsu? Gonna take a lot more than that to buy me off.”

“Not tonight.” Inuyasha’s tone was clenched and assertive, staring straight into the dark eyes of the man that continued to approach.

“Why? What’s on the agenda?” He asked, carelessly. An arrogant smile expanded on his face.

“I’m serious, Ren.”

“Yeah, see, the last time we saw each other, you shoved my face into a brick wall. I’m not feeling very understanding at the moment.” He sneered.

“You came at me first.”

“And, it wouldn’t keep happening if you’d just fix the mistake you made.”

“It’s on my to-do list. Right there next to making you kiss my ass.”

“You son of a bitch.” He swung his fist, but Inuyasha dodged in time, swerving around to the backside of his opponent and giving the quickest look around the surrounding area to make sure Kagome wasn’t in the vicinity. Multiple times he’d gotten out of these fights unscathed, and he hoped, fucking hoped, he could do the same right now.

“I gotta say, not a really good way to convince me to leave you alone.”

“Figured you wouldn’t, anyway.” Inuyasha’s shrug was barely visible, waiting for Renkotsu’s next move. He wasn’t the strongest fighter, but he was a tactical one. He liked to bait Inuyasha along, or whomever he was up against really, getting their tempers to flare so their fighting strategy was sloppy. In addition, he was, unfortunately, fast and nimble on his feet, and even though Inuyasha was good at swooping himself out of the way, Renkotsu was better at getting back in his.

The hanyou was pushed back, but the stumble was short-lived as he grasped his bearings and threw his fist into the punk’s face, feeling the sting of his knuckle colliding with Renkotsu’s tooth. His lip must have pinched between, because blood was quick to trickle free, painting his mouth crimson as he smiled and laughed.

“You’ve gotten soft, dog boy.” He remarked, his hand hovering beneath his chin but not really even trying to stop the bleeding.

“Shut up.”

“Since when do you hold back?”

Since he was steadfast determined not to come out of this with a single indicator that would tip Kagome off or ruin her night.

“Come on, what’s changed? You been whipped or something?” He lunged, faking right but snagging Inuyasha on the left, clutching the front of his jacket and tossing him headfirst into the statue.

The pain just above his temple was sharp, instantaneously growing unbearably hot as he picked himself up to a proper standing and felt the light leakage of liquid sliding down the side of his face, the sensation dulling and becoming hardly noticeable over the headache pressing him. There was a physical spike to his temper, his blood beginning to boil as a growl bubbled in his abdomen. Of all the members of that dumb squad, Renkotsu was the most annoying.

Something in Kagome snapped, having watched the guy attack Inuyasha. She knew this sort of stuff was happening, but it was indescribably different when she witnessed it first hand. Shock transitioned to anger. Anger transitioned to infuriation. Infuriation transitioned to irrefutable outrage, and that was that. Her next move wasn’t subconscious; she knew exactly what she was doing. Kagome ran at them, speeding up, sprinting as quickly as her legs would go and shoved the bastard as hard as she possibly could. He was sturdier than his lanky body suggested, only stumbling back several feet before his glare met her challenging scowl. Arms braced around her waist before she could lunge again, a husky voice she knew was Inuyasha’s telling her to “fucking stop,” as he pivoted on his heel and tucked her behind him. That didn’t halt her, though. Demands for him to move were grunted from her mouth as she pushed his arms away, trying to climb her way around his protective stature.

“What the fuck is that, your pet pomeranian!?” Renkotsu jibed, finally taking a moment to wipe the mixture of saliva and blood that dribbled down his chin, and spitting off to the side.

“Funny coming from a guy with premature balding!” Kagome barked, finally getting Inuyasha to let her go. He stood close, though, and she knew he was prepared to snag her out of harms way if anything happened. “Who the hell are you!?”

“Who’s asking?” He smirked.

“His pet pomeranian.” She cocked a brow tauntingly.

“You’re feisty. I like that.” He chuckled. “Name’s Renkotsu. And, you’re interrupting a private conversation between the actual dog and I.”

“And, what problem could you possibly have with him!?” Kagome fumed.

“Many.” Came his brusque reply.

“Kagome, look -“ Inuyasha spoke low, only to her, amber eyes shifting from their offender to make sure he didn’t move any closer, to the side of her face - because her sight was glued straight ahead. “Just wait for me in the park. I’ll be right there.”

“What’s he saying? Trying to act like the hero and send you off?” Renkotsu teased. “He deserves everything that’s coming for him. You know what he’s done?”

“Yeah, pissed you off.” Kagome said, her tone dismissive. “I’m gonna tell you upfront that nothing you say about him is going to change my mind from thinking you’re the little bitch here.”

“If I were you, I’d reel that attitude in, little girl. You don’t know what you’re getting into.” Renkotsu warned, his amusement dwindling away. It wasn’t difficult to determine he was a hothead, easily set off by name-calling and back talk, and he didn’t take kindly to challenges against his pride.

“Am I supposed to be scared?”

“You will be if you don’t back the fuck off. I’ll give you thirty seconds to leave.”

“And, if I don’t?”

“You’ll have to watch me kick your boyfriend’s ass. Then, maybe, I’ll take you and -“

“Finish that sentence, Renkotsu! I fucking dare you!” Inuyasha growled dangerously.

“Get her to leave, Inuyasha!” Renkotsu ordered, his voice on the edge of getting even louder.

“We’re both leaving.” Kagome said with the tone of finality, grabbing onto Inuyasha’s wrist.

“The hell he is!”

“You’re from that group of assholes, right? The one Inuyasha left? Which means you’re just carrying out orders from the top. Well, tell what’s-his-face to suck a dick and to handle his dirty work, himself.”

Inuyasha shot a look of surprise at her, a smile spreading over his lips, and turning back to look at the bald delinquent, he notched his head in appreciation of Kagome’s profanity.

“You gonna let your bitch fight your battles, mutt?”

He shrugged, still thriving off her recent jab. “She’s doing a pretty good job. How could I not?”

“You know damn well if I take this back to Bankotsu, he’ll have us out for her, too. Shut her up.”

“Bankotsu?” Kagome grimaced, blinking bemusedly. “Are you guys siblings or something?”

“No?” Renkotsu asked more than stated, his brows furrowing deeply.

“What’s with the similar names, then? That can’t just be a coincidence; it sounds so fake. Is that your actual name?”

“They don’t go by their actual names.” Inuyasha mentioned. “It’s one of the common measures they take to help protect their real identities. All of them have a code name ending in, ‘-kotsu’.”

“Seriously? Are you kidding me?” Kagome laughed audaciously, looking Renkotsu straight in his dark, narrowed eyes. “Hate to break it to you, buddy, but twinsy names aren’t intimidating.”

“It’s not what’s in a name,” He began, walking inward, his jaw clenching and unclenching repeatedly, evident from the muscles flexing at the crook of his mandible. “It’s how you present yourself. I’ve never been one for hitting chicks, but a motherfucker just might now.”

Inuyasha swapped their grips, now the one clutching to her wrist and directing her to angle behind him with a firm tug.

“I gave you the opportunity to leave, but you wanted to push your luck. I don’t like women getting involved, but oh well. Fuck me, right?”

“Yeah. Fuck you.” Inuyasha seethed, the scowl returning to set on his features. “If you think you’re ever going to touch her -“

“And, what are you gonna do?” Stopping with a foot’s distance between them, staring into the golden eyes of his original target. “Because you’ve been so successful in warding the rest of us off? You, of all people - if we can even call you that - should know by now that we don’t give up so easily. Now, she’s in the mix. Should have made her leave when you had the chance.”

“Are we done here?” Kagome questioned, her tone sharp. His eyes flickered down to her, a single, thin brow shrugging in insolence.

“Sure. I like that dress, by the way.” He grinned briefly before pursing his lips and spitting on her, his saliva still holding a tint of red and landing in the center of her breasts to stain the pastel pink she donned.

Kagome, though repulsed and disturbed, immediately grasped Inuyasha’s arm, pinching her nails into the sleeve of his jacket so he wouldn’t retaliate. His muscles were flexed and he’d been ready to swing in her defense, and even though he could easily overpower her, he didn’t fight against her. His indignation remained rigid, though, especially with the creep standing so close to them, and she knew, by the way he glared at Renkotsu, by the furious air wafting about him, by the way his shoulders were squared and his fists were tightly clenched, that he wouldn’t hesitate to attack if Renkotsu made another move.

“See you around. Both of you.” He smiled tauntingly, turning on his heel and walking away.

It wasn’t until he disappeared around the corner that Inuyasha’s shoulders deflated, a heated sigh leaving his nose as he slowly, but gently, pulled his forearm out of Kagome’s grasp. She was still angry, but with each breath she took, progressively getting steadier and deeper, her temper was fading away. Finally, Inuyasha turned around, facing her, a frown of disapproval marring his handsome face.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” She inquired, her attitude still prominent.

“Jumped in like you did! You could have gotten hurt!”

“And, you’re mad at the thought of that, right?”

“You’re damn right I am!”

“Well, I got mad seeing it happen to you! So, I did something about it! It’s the same thing!”

“No, Kagome -“

“Yes!”

“No! It’s not supposed to work this way!” Inuyasha stepped in, leaving mere inches between them as they argued.

“I don’t care how it’s supposed to work! What does that even mean!?”

“That I don’t ever want you pulling a stunt like that again, got it!?”

“Excuse me!?”

“He might have hit you, stupid! You can’t take punches like I can!”

“So, that makes it okay to just sit back and watch the show!? Like you’re some kind of punching bag!?”

“I would have handled it!”

“Then you should have!” Kagome yelled. “I heard him; he said you were holding back! Why were you holding back!?”

“Because you don’t like when I get into fights, Kagome! I didn’t want you to know this was happening! He came out of fucking nowhere, and I was trying to fend him off before you showed up!”

The tension in her brow decreased exponentially, his words ringing in her ears. She felt like an ass for doubting him that way, but still, no matter, she wasn’t sorry for pushing the jerk away from him. She would never be sorry. “It’s not that I didn’t think you could handle it. I knew you could have. I just got so angry and wanted to help.” Kagome calmly admitted.

“Well don’t.” Inuyasha said, authoritatively. “I don’t need your help.”

“Quite frankly, I don’t care what you think you need or don’t need right now. It’s irrelevant.” He flinched to counter but she beat him to the punch, holding her hand up to silence him. “You’re saying it because you don’t want me in the middle or getting hurt, I get that. But, it’s the exact same way I feel about you, so you and I are only going to end up going in circles about this. You can’t tell me what to do, and you can’t force me to just watch your head get thrown into cement without reacting.”

In all honesty, he’d forgotten he’d been hurt in the heat of it all, more concerned about protecting Kagome than anything. He hadn’t expected her to come flying in like a bat out of hell, fully prepared to square off with one of the lowlives of the city. Especially, for his sake. Once he saw her, he just reacted. Probably the same way she had. “Now you’re involved, though. That’s exactly what I didn’t want.”

“We’ll handle it.” Kagome said, unconcerned. To get a better angle on his cut, she leaned her head to the side, reaching up to gently hold his jaw and bring him down near her height. He showed no resistance, his long lashes fluttering softly as he closed his eyes.

“It’ll be fine.”

It really wasn’t all that bad. It looked like the bleeding had about stopped, but it should still be cleaned and bandaged. Releasing his face, she reached for his hand, pulling him in the direction she’d come from.

His grip on her palm tightened as they approached her home, noticing her mom’s car out front, and the living room and kitchen lights on. If she saw them, him specifically, with dried blood on his head, she’d know the night was disastrous and he’d put her daughter in a dangerous situation. He couldn’t have that. He’d already felt like a failure, but to have someone else think that, too - Kagome’s mother, no less - would be mortifying. Kagome’s attention drifted up to him at his notable discomfort, stopping with his cue.

“Your mom…”

“She’s a nurse, don’t worry.”

“No, I - I don’t want her to see this. I don’t want her to know what happened.”

The realization was evident on her face, but she didn’t look disappointed, her head turning to glance at her house before turning back to him.

“Climb up to my window. I’ll let you in.” She smiled.

“You sure?” He asked, and she nodded immediately, letting go of his hand. Before she could move further, he stopped her, pulling off his coat and handing it over. It made the idea of their date more believable if she came back with his jacket, plus it’d help hide the detestable stain. As she situated it over her arms, he reached down to grab the bottom of the zippers on both ends that landed at her thighs, lining them up together and zipping it for her. Kagome smiled appreciatively, turning around and heading inside.

Inuyasha snuck around the front toward the far left end as soon as she shut the door, grateful the curtains were pulled shut. As soon as he reached the tree he used for footing, he leveraged himself up, climbing until he could silently step onto the small roofing of the second story. Her room was still dark as he waited for her at the window, and though everything was muffled, he could vaguely hear her and her mom talking from downstairs. The specifics of their conversation were hard to distinguish, but he knew Kagome’s cheery tone from her upset one, and to him, she sounded happy. Probably fooling her mom into thinking everything was perfectly fine, despite the fact that she was home so soon after leaving.

Her footsteps grew closer, shuffling along as soon as she reached the top landing of the stairs, and even as she entered her room, she didn’t turn on the light until the door was closed. Her greeting smile was natural, and he couldn’t help but wonder how the hell she managed it. Kagome had every reason in the world to be upset right now, but she truly didn’t seem like she was. And, as she hurried over and unlocked the latch for him, sliding the window open, he was engulfed by the powerfully sweet scent of her that stayed locked up in her bedroom, thoroughly muddling any residual, negative thoughts from the evening.

He shut the window on his own, nodding when she mentioned she’d be right back and taking a seat on the floor with his back resting against the bed. Kagome was true to her word, returning less than sixty seconds later with a small first aid kit in hand.

“No, I told you it’d be fine.” Inuyasha chuckled quietly, taking the initiative to turn on the tv to drown out their voices.

“Cut’s need bandages.” Was her simple reply, not even sparing him a glance as she shuffled through her dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of leggings and a fresh shirt.

“The cut’s already healing. It’ll most likely be gone tomorrow.”

“Humor me.” Kagome rolled her eyes, pursing her lips as she tossed her clothes on the bottom edge of her mattress. “Close your eyes, please.”

Without hesitation, he complied, turning away for added effect. The ruffling of his jacket sounded heavy as she removed it, the material of her dress considerably lighter in comparison. It wasn’t the coldest night they’d had recently, but he still found Kagome brave for wearing it - long sleeved garment be damned. Then, an ache twinged in his chest. She’d worn that for him. And, the gesture hadn’t only gone to waste, but the dress was probably ruined now and he’d never be able to appreciate her in it.

At her signal, he opened his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully look at her, regret taking its hold on him. It wasn’t his fault, he knew, but that didn’t help any. How could he make up for this mess? How could he make her happy like he’d intended to tonight?

Kagome sauntered over, crossing to his right and then sitting at his side, thigh-to-thigh, facing him. The first aid kit was in hand, and she set it on the floor beside her, opening it and taking out some cotton balls in a sandwich baggy before turning to him. She seemed so gentle, her hands light when she pulled his bangs out of the way to asses the cut before doing anything else. As if feeling his unsubtle stare, her brown eyes drifted over to his, curious and large, then shied downward as the smallest of frowns tugged on her lips. Kagome dropped his hair, her hands falling to her lap before she bowed her head slightly, hovering over his shoulder.

Sometimes, you could say those three words to let a person know how deeply you feel for them. Sometimes, you could speak your profound emotions with more, or less, verbally, or physically. And, so badly did Kagome want to figure out how to properly express it all to him. To know Inuyasha, to have him sit with her, hold her hand, tell her things no matter the context, was a privilege she was scared for a while she’d never get to experience. Inuyasha, in his own essence, was such a wonderful gift. To have him care for her, and convey how much he cared through tumultuous anger weighted her heart. Maybe not in the moment could she appreciate the gesture, or clearly see his reasonings, but now that things were calmed and they sat so close, touching, trusting, she understood. How lucky she was. On the surface, Inuyasha was brash and hard-headed, he presented himself in a carefree manner, but truthfully, he was the most beautifully delicate person she’d ever met.

Finally resting her head against his shoulder, Kagome breathed out slowly, taking in the faint and generic spice of a man’s body wash on her inhale. Funny enough, of all the guys she’d noticed it on, it smelled best on him. What had come over her was the sudden and dire need to tell him everything she felt for him. It had hit her like a freight train; intense and insatiable. Something, she needed to say something to subdue the fire igniting her nerve endings, but as she opened her mouth to speak, all that came out was a whispered, “I really like this shirt.”

Of course, then, she laughed at herself. Typical of her to chicken out.

Kagome could feel his head come a little closer to hers, his cheek gently brushing against her hair as he said in return, “I know. I wore it for you.”

She smiled. He couldn’t see it, but she smiled.

“Are you okay?” Inuyasha asked, and she quickly sat up straight, forcing herself to appear fully recovered, as if nothing had ever fazed her.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Kagome replied, moving back to her prior task without delay. After opening a small bottle of peroxide, she doused a cotton ball with the liquid. “Could you hold your hair out of the way?”

His expression spoke volumes on how useless he found the gesture to be, but still, he did as she asked, eye roll and all. She gently rubbed the cotton ball over the small wound to clean it, then around the surrounding area to wipe the dried blood away. His attention was roaming over her, and she tried not to pay attention to the way it alarmed the butterflies in her stomach, focusing on her task. It was like his ember irises were actual, flickering chars, and wherever his eyes landed, she felt a pleasant, burning sensation. Her cheek, her lips, her chin, her neck, her collar bone, her lips, her neck, her shoulder, her lips. All alight.

“Some first date, huh?” Inuyasha remarked, his tone dull.

Kagome’s soft smile in response was unintentional but genuine, dropping the dirtied cotton ball on top of the bag it came out of, and as she chose an appropriate bandage, she shrugged. “That doesn’t matter to me. I mean, we could have chilled and watched tv and slapped the first date title on that, and I would have been perfectly happy.”

“But, instead you got to see me in a fight. Kagome, I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” She asked, opening the bandaid packaging and carefully holding the very edges of the adhesive strips. She angled it properly over the cut, gently sticking it down and smoothing it out. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Besides, the way I see it, I got to yell at one of the jerks that’s been terrorizing you. Trust me, it was a good time.”

Inuyasha laughed, flinching as she rubbed her fingers over the entire bandage. “Ow.” He said playfully, instinctively grabbing her hand and pulling it away. She giggled and mumbled an apology, using her free hand to smooth down his ruffled bangs as he let them go. “By the way, we need to talk about your profanity. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk like that. ‘Suck a dick’? Is that peak Kagome temper right there?”

“I tend to lose my filter when I’m mad.” She exclaimed.

“You’ve got quite a vocabulary on you. It’s impressive. Remind me not to get on your bad side.” He mildly joked.

He was still holding her hand, his grip adjusted to rest it against his chest, his thumb tenderly caressing over her skin.

“So, you’re not mad at me anymore?” Kagome asked, her voice softening to take on the hint of bashfulness.

“Do I look like I’m mad at you?” Inuyasha responded soothingly. He leaned a little closer to her body, relaxed, warm. “I just - I really didn’t want you getting involved, Kagome.”

“It was kind of impossible not to.”

“I know. I get that. Now, I’m just gonna worry about you whenever we’re apart.”

“They’re not like an actual gang, are they?”

“No, they’re just like you said; a group of assholes. They tend to take their crap out on others and act like they’re tough. Some of them, though, are something to be concerned about. Statistically speaking, they’re not all gonna grow out of this phase. They’re on a gateway path, and I wouldn’t doubt if Bankotsu already had dirty affiliations.” Inuyasha said, letting go of her palm as he leaned even more towards her center, his right hand now braced on the floor by her legs in a casual manner. The closer he got to her, the more comfortable he found he felt. So comfortable, in fact, that he thought nothing of the way her fingers busied themselves in the loose tendrils of his hair along the sides of his face.

“How long were you with them?” Kagome asked.

“Not long enough to actually do anything I’d regret, aside from the obvious.”

“So, you were never actually one of them.” She stated. It felt like reassurance to the stress he already carried about having made the mistake of walking with them in the first place.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his mind blanked. Not in a hopeless way, but in the sense that there was nothing that needed to be said. As he basked in her confidence in him, calmed by the tips of her fingers continuously running through his bangs and loose strands from his ponytail, he realized that neither of them were going anywhere. What the hell was he waiting for?

There was no apprehension in his lean, the fingers of his free hand curving around the side of her neck and beneath her hair, intentionally holding just before meeting her lips. Kagome leaned in the rest of the way, her mouth soft and molding against his perfectly. And, she smiled into his kiss, giggling breathily, happily as they broke.

“I want to be with you, Kagome.” He spoke, tone husky, just as content. “You and I.”

She nodded, feeling so full and light at the same time it was difficult not to be consumed by her elation.

“Yeah?” Inuyasha smiled, almost teasing because he could tell how shy she was getting from the fresh and deep shade of her cheeks. Again, she nodded, her head ducking slightly. “Is that a yeah?”

“Shut up.” Kagome laughed, taking the initiative to kiss him again, his sigh hot against the side of her cheek while he firmly clutched her to him.

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#yeep #inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #miroku #sango #inukag #mirsan #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #InuKag fanfiction #inukag fanfic #InuKag fic #high school au #coming of age #my writing #delicate #akitokihojo

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linlin123sblog · 3 years

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transparenttriumphzombie · 3 years

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Harry Styles On Vogue

Source:

https://www.vogue.com/article/harry-styles-cover-december-2020/amp?__twitter_impression=true

From Vogue MAGAZINE

Playtime With Harry Styles

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style transformation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’ ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matchesfashion.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Jackie bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

#harry styles #non binary #men wearing dress #harry styles in dress #transgender #trans pride #transgender woman #dresses #men in dresses #dress

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cozywritings · 4 years

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Stitches ch5: Be Alright

It was finally Friday. The one day of the week that you didn’t have classes, so you slept in, your alarm clock read 10:36 when you looked over. Reaching for your phone you noticed a screen full of notifications, mostly from Emily talking about some cute guy in her anatomy class. Until you caught sight of a text you weren’t too surprised to see.

McDreamy: Good morning honey 😊 I’ve got my 4 hour lecture today and then I’m headed off to stay at Brian’s for the night. Meet me before I leave for enough kisses to last the evening?

To McDreamy: I’ll be waiting.

After pressing send, you got up and took a shower, washing off the week and just taking some time to relax before you started studying for the next week of lessons.

You’ve decided that the best thing about your dorm, besides your boyfriend being across the hall, was the fact that you had your own bathroom in your room. You could shower as long as you wanted, play music as you showered, and you didn’t have to worry about if you forgot a towel or your clothes.

As soon as you stepped into the hot water, you let out a sigh. The hot water feeling absolutely amazing, and you knew it would relax your muscles from the first week stress. Although it was gonna be pretty boring this weekend without Shawn there, you needed to catch up on the notes you missed on Monday during proff com. So you knew it was probably best that he wasn’t here.

The longer you were in the shower, the better you felt. Until you realised it was now noon and you had yet to eat. So you shut off the water, wrapped yourself in a towel and walked out to get dressed. All the while thinking about what you wanted from the buffet in the cafeteria next door.

After your lunch of mac and cheese and a sandwich, you found yourself packing up your backpack to move across the hall. Sure you had your own desk, but Shawn’s was so much nicer and his blackout curtains made you less stressed when you were in a deep study.

Walking into Shawn’s room, you looked around at the clothes on the floor and the unmade bed and sighed. So, you dropped your bag on the desk and took a few minutes to tidy up the room for him. When you were satisfied with your work, you kicked off your sneakers and got to work on your notes, taking Shawn’s notebook from the drawer and copying everything you missed from that first day.

It was a lot of important due dates and when the chapters should be read. Honestly, you weren’t missing much, but you still found it important to have them in your notebook to help you remember them.

Around 2:30, you heard the doorknob jiggle, and your smile widened. Half an hour ago you decided to move to the bed to read your chapters and take notes. When Shawn walked in, he was shocked to find you nestled into his bed with your Sociology textbook in your lap. He was quick to drop his backpack and collapse on top of you, pressing a few kisses to your jaw.

“This is a nice surprise.” He smiled against your neck.

“Your room seemed like the better study option.” You shrugged, running your fingers through his curls and scratching at his scalp. When he let out an involuntary moan you giggled, “feels good Bub?” He nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing his thumbs along your lower back.

You closed your eyes at the feeling. The two of you laid there in silence for a few minutes before Shawn said, “Maybe I’ll skip Brian’s and stay here to do this instead.”

You let out a soft laugh, “No you’ve gotta go have guy time. You’ve been with me almost every day this week, you need to see your friends.” He shook his head.

“No.” He leaned back to show you the cutest pout you’d ever seen.

“Shawn. Go out and have fun. I’m probably going to just catch up on project runway and maybe go see the movie in the planetarium with Em later tonight.” He gave you a huge smile, glad you were making good of your Friday night, considering every other night this week you were stressing over classes.

“What movie are they showing?” He mumbled, pressing his face into your neck again. Damn, he was making this really hard to tell him to go to Brian’s.

Threading your fingers into his hair and massaging his head you told him about your plans. “It’s called Abduction. It’s a Taylor Lautner movie. I’ve seen it before, but Emily hasn’t seen it yet so I told her I’d see it with her. After that I’ll probably just come back here and do some more reading.”

You felt him nod, curls tickling your neck. “Back to your dorm or mine?

You lightly smacked his shoulder. “Like I’m gonna come sleep in your empty bed. You’re crazy.” He just shrugged.

“I don’t see why not. The D.A’s never check on the upper classmen and it’s not like you’re sleeping with me. You’re just in my bed.” The idea was really nice. The bed smelled like him, and you were pretty sure that his TV was bigger than yours.

Biting your lip, you gave the idea a pretty good thought. “I’ll think about it.” He looked up at you and smiled, leaving a kiss to your chin.

---

“What do you mean you’re probably gonna sleep in his bed alone!” Emily yelled over a mouth full of pizza as the two of you sat in her dorm.

You just smiled at her. “He’s staying at Brian’s tonight and offered me to stay in his room. I thought it was cute.” A blush rising on your cheeks. The longer you thought about it, the more you wanted to.

Emily let out an exaggerated groan. “You two are disgustingly cute. But anyways. Do you want the details on Eric?” Eric was the guy from her class that she felt compelled to text you about during her lecture. “Well he’s super tall, and has these gorgeous blue eyes. He’s obviously a frequent gym goer. Oh! And he’s 21.” It was so cute to watch her fawn over him, because you’re positive that’s what you look like talking about Shawn. “But also, there’s this girl, Ashley, god she’s so fucking cute. But I don’t know if she’s into girls. So I’ll probably never pursue that one.”

You looked at her a bit shocked. “Em, I didn’t know you were bi.” She looked down quickly, her cheeks pink and eyes wide. “No, no babe it’s okay. I don’t care, I just didn’t know. You didn’t mention it to me before.”

She shrugged, giving you a lazy smile. “I just don’t feel like people believe it’s a thing. And it’s not something I just blurt out. ‘Oh yeah, I love both’” you just smiled at her.

“Well I know a girl in my accounting class that’s flawless and she’s gay, if you wanna know about her.” You swore you’d never seen anyone so happy in your life.

The two of you spent almost 3 hours just gossiping until the conversation got serious. “So, um, I was wondering how you were doing after the whole ex thing? Are you feeling any better since then?” She asked softly.

“It’s okay. He’s actually in my speech class, but so is Shawn so I’m pretty safe. He sits right next to me and holds my hand and stuff. Actually, I have a meeting with an on campus mental health counsellor next week. So I’m going to get back on track soon.” Without any warning, Emily leaned over and gave you the biggest hug.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” She sighed, rubbing you back and playing with the ends of your hair.

---

Now settled back into your own room, you felt like something was missing. Your room was too quiet, even with Netflix playing some show in the background, and your bed seemed a lot colder than the one across the hallway. And it wasn’t because that one had a heated blanket nestled in the sheets.

Looking over at the clock, you smiled, 11:48. So you gathered your things: your charger, notebooks, and a pair of fuzzy socks, and made your way to Shawn’s room

The room was warm and dark, the lamp having been left on from earlier, was the only source of light. Your head was throbbing due to the laughing you’d done with Emily and the lack of actual sleep you’d been getting throughout the week, but knowing Shawn, he had a stash of medications somewhere. So you set down your things on the bed and searched the desk for a medicine drawer. Instead, what you found was a notebook with all the campus mental health counsellors written down. Next to eat name was a note.

-Dr. Moore: nice but not the right expertise

-Dr. Woodell: extremely kind, specializes in PTSD and rape victims

-Dr. Garcia: too harsh- probably not right for her

-Dr. Casey: way too mean, seems very unforgiving of personal issues- wrong specialisation

-Dr. Hendrix: very nice, another rape victim spec., also does depression and anxiety. (Top choice)

-Dr. Evans: see above note, but add that he’s the only male option (maybe not a good choice)

By the time you’d gotten to the bottom of the page, you were crying profusely. He had gone in and done research on the possible therapists you’d be seeing. He took the time to look into each option and make notes. But you couldn’t let him know you’d found it, so you put it back, opening the drawer labeled “meds”. How you didn’t see it before, you have no idea. So you took two Advil and moved back to the bed, turning on the heating blanket and flipping through the movies on Shawn’s amazon prime account.

It was almost 10am when Shawn opened the door to his room, he’d gotten maybe 4 hours of sleep at Brian’s. They spent all night playing video games, having a few drinks, and just talking about life. However, you were on his mind the whole time. He was hoping you were having a good time and wondering if you’d gone back to your own room.

Somewhere in the night, you had curled completely into the sheets, your body being covered by pillows and the huge blue comforter on the bed. So it was no surprise that Shawn didn’t see you when he walked in. Or when he plopped down on the bed. It wasn’t until he went to pull the blanket back that he noticed your small frame enveloped in the flannel blanket that was still radiating head. Instead of waking you, he just kicked off his sneakers and curled around you, a sleepy smile on his face.

The feeling of something other than the blanket around you startled you, and your eyes flew open in panic. That is, until you noticed that sparrow tattoo you loved resting on the bed. “Shawn?” You asked, not sure if he was awake.

“Shhh I’m sleeping.” He mumbled into the back of your neck, causing you to laugh.

“Can you at least let me roll over so I can see my boyfriend?” you smiled, trying you roll onto your other side.

With a groan and a kiss to the top of your head, he backed away slightly, allowing you to roll over and wrap your arms around his neck. “Wasn’t expecting you to take my offer. I’m glad you did though, I like seeing you comfortable in my room. Please stay?? My head hurts and I wanna love on you.” You responded by scratching at his scalp like you did the day before.

Once again, he let out a sigh, eyes closing as he nosed along the column of your throat. When your hand slid a little lower and rubbed the base of his neck he let out a soft moan. “You okay there Bub?” You giggled, your free hand being cradled in Shawn’s.

“Mhm. I’m fantastic.” He smiled, relaxing against your chest. “Just wanna stay like this all day. Didn’t sleep a lot last night.” You nodded, your lips pressing into his curls.

“We don’t have to do anything today. You can stay exactly where you are” he smiled, kissing along your shoulder as he wrapped himself around you.

And so you did. The day was spent right there in Shawn’s bed, cuddling, exchanging words of adoration, and plenty of kisses being shared. You were pretty sure that this was the best was the best thing to happen to you. That Shawn was the best thing to ever happen to you.

When it finally got dark, Shawn decided you two, more specifically you, needed to eat. So he called in Pizza Hut to be delivered to the dorm and, after learning it would be about an hour until the delivery driver got here, he settled on taking a shower, fearful he reeked of beer and whatever smell radiated from Brian’s apartment. “Shawn?” Your voice soft as you spoke. “Yeah babe?” He asked, closing the drawer full of shirts after he chose what he was gping to pt on after he was clean.

“Do you um, maybe want some company in there?” Your cheeks were a violent crimson when Shawn stuttered.

“A-are you sure?? That totally isn’t the reason I asked you to stay. You don’t have to do something you aren’t completely comfortable with. I mean- I’d love for you to, but you don’t have to if you’re not ready for something that intimate.” With a soft nod, you started to unbutton your shirt. “Okay baby, okay. If this is what you want to do we can definitely do that. But let’s get into the bathroom and let me do this right. Okay?” You smiled, following him into the bathroom. He really was trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

With the shower water running, and the room filling up with steam, shawn kicked off his sweats, leaving him in his black boxers. Then he turned his attention to you, his fingers slowly unbuttoning your top for you. But his eyes stayed on your face, watching for any sign of panic. “Shawn, it’s okay. Really. I trust you, and I know you’ll be careful. I wouldn’t have asked to join you if I thought I was going to be uncomfortable” With that, he tugged the shirt off your shoulders, eyes following the fabric as it fell to the floor.

You took it upon yourself to shimmy out of your shorts and panties the same time Shawn rid himself of his boxers. So there you stood. Fully naked in front of the only other person who’s had the privilege of seeing you this way. “You look, so beautiful. I didn’t know you had a tattoo.” He smiled, staring at the flower on your hip.

“It was a congratulatory gift from a close friend. She took me to get it after my acceptance letter came it. I have a second one.” You stated, twisting your hips for him to see the black cat sitting on a crescent moon on the other side. “That one I got in an impulse, a Friday the 13th special.”

“I like them.” He mumbled, watching as you grabbed his hand and ran his fingers over the now healed skin. This was the first time he’s touched your naked body, and to be perfectly honest, he wanted to take you right then and there. But he knew his limits, and this right here was a huge deal for you. So he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around you. “I promise I’ll take such good care of you.”

The water felt amazing on your skin, it was the perfect temperature. Shawn stepped in behind you, blocking the water stream as he washed his curls. You had to admit, you’d seen Shawn shirtless before, but seeing him with soap running down his body was something different. You let your eyes travel a little lower, looking down at him. All of him. He looked bigger than Josh, and that worried you a little. But now wasn’t the time.

“Can I wash your hair?” He asked with his arm outstretched, a puddle of shampoo in his palm. “I’d really like that. Yeah.” You smiled, turning around and pressing your back against his chest, sighing at the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp, occasionally rubbing out the knots in your neck, causing you to lean your head forward as the release of tension.

You let out a sigh at the feeling. “Babe, why are you so tense?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence as the water rinsed out your hair.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure really. Maybe just all the stuff that happened this week. And I have the worlds worst posture when I sit, so I’m sure that doesn’t help.” You laughed, taking your fingers through your conditioner soaked hair.

“Do you mind?” He asked, placing his soap covered hands on your shoulders. You shook your head, curious as to what he was asking to do. You had to clamp down on your lower lip to stop yourself from straight up mewling at the feeling when he dug his fingers into your neck, his thumbs sliding along your upper back easily due to the soap.

“What the actual fuck did you just do?” You asked after you were able to speak again.

His thumbs still running along your shoulder blades, he simply responded, “Pressure points to relive tension. You should probably do that at least once a week if you want to stay out of any back pain in the future.” You noddd, keeping that in the back of your brain as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Or you can come to me and I can do it for you. Ya know, to make sure it’s done right.”

You laughed, turning around to leave a kiss on his chest. Shawn was quick to wrap his arms around you and lift you up, looking at you for a sign to not do what he was about to do. Instead, you leaned in, wrapping your legs around his waist and stealing the first kiss.

Now dried off and in your “cute” pj’s, you sat on the bed stuffing your face with pizza while The Breakfast Club played softly on the tv. Shawn sat across from you, doing some reading on “nerves and the brain” or whatever the book was about. “Shawn?” He looked up, a grin plastered on his face. “Last night I was looking for some Advil for my headache and I accidentally came across a notebook.” Suddenly very nervous, you looked down at your nails. “And I saw that you did some research on the therapists on campus.”

His face paled. “Fuck. You um- you weren’t supposed to see that.” When he looked over at you, your smile calmed him down.

“I’m not mad Shawn. Actually it’s really sweet.” He reached over, closing the book to pull you into his lap.

“I just know that you wanted to see someone for a while and I wanted to make sure you were getting the best one. So I told them I was doing a paper on how they treated their patients and then I was gonna decide which one they should get you.”

You didn’t say anything. Just pressed a few lingering kisses on his jaw. “Thank you. It really means a lot to me. And thank you for everything you’ve done so far. I’ve never felt so loved and safe in my life.”

“Darling. You are loved and safe.”

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #Shawn writing #shawn fluff #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn fanfic #shawn smut #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #my fic #stitches #med student shawn #college shawn

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 4 years

Text

Ownership - Chapter 7 (A Kylo RenxOC AU)

Cora Ardmore and Kylo Ren work for rival companies, but they don’t know that until after they spend the night together. Once their identities are revealed to each other it’s a question of who will cave first?

This fic is pure porn, pure kinky porn.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. If you would like to be tagged let me know. You can find my AO3 here

Warnings: Technical revenge porn, Breach of trust, Language, Not really any real Kylo appearances in this chapter, Alcohol.

Chapter 7

Cora Ardmore

Monday rolled around, and I took my usual seat at the board meeting table. Leia sat at the head of the table, and Poe sat across from me. Finn, Rey, and Rose joined us an hour into the meeting. Finn made sure the door was closed, and pulled the blinds down, giving us the privacy we needed for the next delicate subject. Poe and I had been keeping a close eye on the staff recently. There had been story leaks and sources were dropping out, more so than usual. Meaning we had a mole. We knew it was likely one of the interns they’d started three months ago, which was when the leaks had happened. Now we just needed to make Leia aware and let her decide on the next course of action.

Closing my folder, I turned my attention to her, “Poe and I believe there’s a mole within the interns.”

Leia looked at me over the tops of her glasses, “Which one?”

“Thannison, Thomas Thannison,” Poe answered.

“And what evidence do you have? You know we can’t accuse him of it unless we have evidence.”

“When we took on the interns, a few weeks later the leaks started. And Thannison’s always been too quiet. Finn and I followed him after hours for a few nights-”

“You two followed him? Do you realize what trouble you could have been in if you were caught? I will not have you doing private investigator styled work,” Leia interrupted.

My phone vibrated, the screen lighting up to signify a message. I glanced at the screen. One video from Kylo Ren and a few images too. Oh boy, now was definitely not the time for dick pics. I ignored it as Finn came round to Leia with his camera ready to show her the evidence he had. My phone lit up again, another message from Kylo.

Kylo Ren:

Speechless, Kitten? I have to admit I was too when I watched it back.

Frowning, I hesitantly opened up the messages. There were three images and a video. My eyes widened in horror at the images.

They were all of me, naked, bound, blindfolded with my stomach covered in his cum. I locked my phone and got up from my seat, trying to seem as casual as possible. I mumbled an excuse and exited the room, heading straight for the female toilets. Locking myself in a stall, I threw up my lunch. What the fuck? So many thoughts raced through my head. What the actual fuck? I brought up his number and called him. He answered quickly.

“Hey Kitten,” he spoke, I could just tell he was smirking.

“Don’t you dare fucking ‘hey kitten’ me! What the fuck is that?” I snapped.

Kylo paused, likely stunned by my tone. I didn’t know whether to scream at him or start crying.

“You can see what they are, Kitten. It’s what happens when you don’t give me what I want,” Kylo replied.

It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. This was all because I hadn’t sent him nudes?!

“Are you fucking serious? You made revenge porn because I didn’t send you nudes!?”

Thankfully, the toilets were empty, and nobody could hear my conversation.

“Kitten your being dramatic. It’s hardly revenge porn when I’ve only sent it to you,” Kylo dismissed.

It was a good thing he wasn’t here, otherwise I would have slapped him by now. The more he spoke, the more he dismissed this or tried to write me off as hysterical, the angrier I got.

“You know what we’re done. This stupid arrangement is over. Don’t ever call me again,” I declared, tears in my eyes.

“Cora-“

I didn’t let him finish his sentence, hanging up and turning off my phone. I knew he’d try to call me back, but I was done listening. The coward knew how I’d react, that’s why he’d sent them to me when we were apart. Finally, the sobbing started as I racked my brain for what I could do in this situation. Kylo held all the power. He could release the pictures anytime, make me do anything he wanted so he wouldn’t leak them.

So, was saying we were over the wisest thing? What was worse about the situation, I couldn’t ask anyone for help without exposing myself. And he knew that. I hated how god damn clever he was. The door to the bathroom opened and closed. I quickly dried my eyes and flushed to make the bathroom trip seem normal.

“Cora, you okay? You’ve been gone a while, and you left in a hurry,” came Rose’s voice.

“I’m fine. Just got some bad news. I’ll be out in a sec,” I replied.

“I’m sorry, do you need anything?”

A time machine? So, I could warn my past self not to get involved with Kylo Ren.

“No, but thanks, Rose.”

I waited till she left before exiting the stall and splashing my face with cold water. Looking at my reflection in the mirror it was obvious that I’d been crying, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Let’s just hope nobody asked questions. Exiting the bathroom, I went back to the meeting room, taking my seat back at the table. I could feel everyone staring at me. Oh, who was I kidding, of course they would ask questions.

“Is everything all right, Cora?” Leia asked.

Oh, everything’s fine, only some rich asshole currently is holding my career hostage with a few nudes and a compromising video. I swallowed thickly, determined not to cry in front of everyone.

“I’ll be okay. Thanks,” I forced a smile.

Leia returned the smile, “you know we’re here for whatever you need.”

If only that were true. If I told them I’d probably have to pack up my office immediately. I’d be in every stupid gossip magazine for months. Instead, I nodded. This was a battle I had to fight on my own.

“Finn showed me the evidence...” Leia started.

My mind instantly went into panic mode. Until I remembered they’d all been talking about Thannison before Kylo had turned everything on its head.

“I want him fired immediately. Delicately or not, I don’t much care. Cora, are you and Poe able to do that?” Leia continued.

With how angry I was, firing someone would be a breeze. Nodding, I got to my feet, ready to get rid of that snitch. The meeting concluded and Poe and I headed out to the intern’s desks. Thannison sat at his desk, texting. Probably leaking more information. I felt like snatching the device from his hand, smashing it under my shoe. But I kept my cool, I didn’t need to get a lawsuit for destruction of property. With how quickly Thannison locked his phone when he noticed Poe and I, it was obvious that he was guilty.

“Tommy, we’re gonna have to let you go,” Poe announced.

Thomas spun round to face us in his chair, frowning as if he could still claim his innocence.

“Why? Have I done something wrong?” He asked.

My fists clenched at my side’s as I tried to remain composed. This little shit had the audacity to try to lie even more.

“We know it’s you that’s leaked some info to other magazines,” Poe continued.

“I wouldn’t-“

“We have photographic evidence of you exchanging information with other journalists. Either you pack your shit and get out now or I will have you thrown out!” I snapped.

The room fell silent, everyone staring at the commotion. I never shouted at anyone, I never lost my cool or made scenes. Poe seemed stunned. Thannison looked like he wanted to argue but decided against it. Instead, he packed up what little personal items he had and stormed out without another word. Good riddance. Poe was still staring at me like I’d grown another head.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s going on?” He finally asked.

“No. Whilst I appreciate the offer it’s something, I have to work out for myself.”

Poe followed me to my office. He wasn’t going to drop it anytime soon. One of his less likable qualities.

“Is it to do with the guy your seeing?” He asked.

I paused, for a second it felt like I could confide in Poe. Any other situation and I’m sure I’d be able to. Maybe I could tell him part of the truth.

“He turned out to be just another asshole. I’ll get over it, I always do,” I explained.

“You’ve never reacted like that-“

“Can we drop it?”

“Sure.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Poe left, I started crying again. Angry, stressed tears. There had to be something I could do in case he leaked them. There had to be some kind of law against revenge porn. Turning my phone back on there were five missed calls from Kylo and three texts.

Kylo Ren:

Kitten, answer your phone. Do not ignore me.

Kylo Ren:

Kitten, you’re not thinking clearly. Once you calm down, call me back.

Kylo Ren:

Cora, please. We need to talk about this properly.

As far as I was concerned there was nothing for us to talk about. We were done. What he had done was inexcusable.

Within the week, the apology gifts started showing up at my home. The gifts ranged from large bouquets of flowers, aged wines, rich chocolates and truffles, expensive lingerie and clothes. Most of the gifts I’d shoved in a cupboard where I didn’t have to look at them. If he was sorry, he should know to actually say it to my face than to buy my forgiveness. Although it’s not like an apology would fix this. Friday night I got home and noticed multiple packages on my porch. Taking them inside, I opened them up to find an entire new outfit inside. Dress, shoes, purse, lingerie. My phone buzzed, screen lighting up as a new text popped up.

Kylo Ren:

I hope you’ll join me for dinner tomorrow evening, and that the gifts are to your liking. Then I can start making it up to you ;)

Still no genuine apology, though. I opened the cupboard and pulled out one of the red wines and one box of chocolates. He’d probably paid a lot of money for all of this; I suppose it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Pouring myself a glass, I got myself comfortable on the couch. After my first glass I felt much more relaxed and poured a second. My phone buzzed again.

Kylo Ren:

Say yes, Kitten.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A wicked idea crossed my mind. I gathered today’s gifts and headed to the bedroom. I changed into the short, off the shoulder red dress. If circumstances had been different, I would have liked how I looked in it. I tamed my hair, putting it back in a high ponytail before putting makeup on. Once happy with how I looked, I slipped on the red heels and took a series of pictures of myself with my phone. After picking out the best ones, I sent them to him with a quick message.

No. I already have a date tonight, but thanks for the outfit.

I had a date with some good takeout food, the rest of the wine, my couch and some movies. I kicked the heels off and retreated to the couch. My phone lit up again, buzzing nonstop as he tried to call me. I smirked, sipped my wine and pressed the decline call button. I turned off my phone and got myself comfortable. One victory for me.

The third week without Kylo began. It seemed easier now. He had made no demands or threats with the images, which was promising. I sat in my office, writing up an interview when there was a soft knock at the door. I saved my document and called them in. Poe entered, smiling softly.

“Hey, you got any plans for lunch?” He asked.

“Usual plans. Sitting here or in the kitchen and eating whatever I packed for myself. Why?”

“You wanna grab something together?”

“Sure. It’ll probably beat sandwiches. Finn not coming?”

“His lunch break doesn’t match up with mine today.”

“Oh, so I’m your backup? Smooth Dameron,” I laughed.

Poe shrugged, “maybe I can find you a new guy to date, so you can get over that asshole.”

“Doubtful.”

Poe got back to work. There was still at least half an hour before our lunch breaks were due. Turning back to my laptop, I read over the last few sentences I’d written. After tweaking the last one a little, I picked up where I’d left off. I didn’t get much further as my phone vibrated.

Kylo Ren:

Kitten, I’m outside. And you are coming down for lunch. Otherwise I’m coming up there so we can talk about this. And I know you don’t want that. So make this easy and come down.

My eyes widened, and I glanced out of the window, down at the street below. There in his usual black suit stood Kylo Ren, looking impatient. Shit.

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