#And you'll have to wait until Monday for the result | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clubdionysus · 7 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #9] White

warnings: birdie time he he. honestly just very wholesome all round, but the embers are burningggg, they’re very wet! fantastic! (1) mention of Hang Sơn Đoòng (worlds biggest cave).

soundtrack: lemon - loco, hwasa; safety zone - j-hope

wc: 6k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist

It's mid-morning the following Monday when Jeongguk's message lands in your inbox. The sky is free of clouds, sun beating down on the windows of the subway carriage you're in. It's above ground, crossing the river.

Summer is reaching the end of its peak, but monsoons are still a looming threat. There have been weather warnings all month, but today seems okay. You've an umbrella tucked into your tote just in case, legs crossed as you flick through your notifications on the subway.

Three unread messages sit pretty at the top of your inbox.

Jeongguk: Still on for today?

Danbi: u, me, ryan reynolds in lycra, tonight. game?

Seokjin: such a tease, you know i love those shorts on you - if memory serves me correctly they were off far more than they were on whenever you wore them ;) you around tonight?

Jeongguk is probably the only one who needs a reply, and yet you can't help but stare at Seokjin's message for a little longer than you should.

If Danbi knew you were texting him, she'd probably confiscate your phone, like your parents used to do during your teen years. Jeongguk would probably throw all your stupid little origami birds at you. Would hope you'd get a paper cut.

It'd be deserved, you think.

Jeongguk had wasted his entire Sunday on you as a result of Seokjin's carelessness. You didn't leave until Jimin had taken a nap on the couch at just gone six, your day full of mindless chatter and harmless distractions from Seokjin. It had been nice. Comforting.

And yet when you'd arrived home, a text had been waiting from Seokjin:

heyyy, sorry I had to rush off. didn't wanna wake you. you looked toooo cute. was so nice to see you again.

It's kind of embarrassing, the way your heart seemed to settle at the sight of it; like things were as they should be once more.

You told yourself that Seokjin hadn't meant to upset you. That it was all a big misunderstanding.

He said everything you wanted him to in that message. Said sorry. Maybe he didn't give you an excuse nor an explanation, but he did give you a compliment, and that had you giggling.

Had you thinking that maybe you'd been reactive, and were too highly strung. Perhaps he was never the issue. What if it was you?

Still, it's Jeongguk's message thread you tap through to instead - yeah, just on the subway now! we're still meeting there?

You contemplate whether or not you want to tell him that you've spoken to Seokjin later. He'll no doubt ask about him, with a sneer on his lips, nose upturned at the mere thought of him.

And so naturally, you know you'll lie. "No. Not heard from him."

It's not that you want to be dishonest. Not in the slightest.

You're no stranger to a white lie or two, but Jeongguk had scooped up all of your broken pieces in the early hours of yesterday morning, and tried to washi tape them back together - only for you to run straight back to the person holding a sledgehammer.

You don't want to be reckless with the care Jeongguk's afforded to you; it's just that while Jin's got a sledgehammer in one hand, it also looks like he's got super glue in the other. It's a little bit stronger than washi tape.

Especially Jeongguk's rolls of washi tape; which are the entire reason why you're spending your day off on the subway, and not tucked up in bed, instead.

Jeongguk had devised a plan following the fall of your origami bird, but had neglected to tell you exactly what that plan was.

Had said "look, I won't lie - I can't help you with this. Gimmie the evening to think of a plan, though? I'll text you later."

He'd texted you an address by the time you'd arrived home. Told you not to search it up; said he'd meet you there at midday. Kind of felt like a challenge, and you don't like losing - so you'd done as he'd said. Other than putting the address into Naver maps to find the route, you were none the wiser as to where you were headed.

The subway leads you to the outskirts of town. Down by the river, just a little further up from the arboretum you always tell yourself you should visit more often. You're local to the city, but it's so vast that there are still areas you aren't too familiar with. This is one of them. You know what's in the general area - the arboretum, an old water park, and some museums, but you've no idea what the exact address could be.

As you climb the stairs, you're regretful of the fact you actually listened to Jeongguk. Should have looked up the address beforehand. Seen what was about; what dress code would have been appropriate.

Denim shorts hug your curves, and a little white blouse sits prettily on your shoulders. You're making the most of the summer while it lasts; skin exposed, despite the judgement thrown your way by the ajummas you pass on the street.

A mirror selfie had been sent to Seokjin before you'd left the house, in reply to his collarbone-wielding, broad shoulder-baring bed selfie. His hair had been messy, and there was a little pink mark on his neck. You're pretty sure you left it there. Didn't wanna focus on it for too long just in case you realised that you... didn't.

There had been a little tactful positioning of your phone in front of your face when you took your photo. Had been covering your eyes. Hiding the glitter.

And it's funny, 'cause it's the first thing that Jeongguk notices when he spots you.

You're looking around, realising exactly where you are, a frown slowly forming. He'd expected nothing less. You always arrive with a small frown whenever he's around - but he also always manages to get you beaming, too. It's part of the charm that comes with being around Jeongguk. Bad moods dissolve into nothingness.

He smiles, just like he always does. Waves. Throws you not one, but two peace signs. His thin lips plumpen into a pout as he wiggles his shoulders, the ease of acting childishly coming naturally when he's around you.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He glows as if he hadn't seen you less than twenty-four hours ago.

Strolling towards you, he ignores the slight scowl that's resting on your neat brows. Just continues smiling. All doe-eyed and dainty. Hopes you won't be able to resist breaking into a smile, too.

He likes your glitter today. It's just in the corners of your eyes. Thinks you look like a fairy.

"I'm wearing white!" is all you can say, a little exasperation clouding your words, before laughter begins to tumble from your lips whether you want it to or not. "You asshole! You should have warned me!"

Jeongguk's wearing all black. A pair of shorts, a long sleeve swimming shirt and one of his many oversized black t-shirts over the top. See, he's dressed according to his plans - the plans that he neglected to share with you.

But he's a man. How much can you really expect from him? You doubt he's ever had to run home in the middle of a thunderstorm with his arms crossed over his chest to protect his modesty. Doubt his eyes have ever felt the unwelcome intrusion of sodden mascara running into them.

"Oh, chill out, Disco Ball," he banters, rolling his eyes as he twiddles his lip ring with his tongue. He comes to a stop in front of you. Pouts. Pushes his lips to the side, and his cheek slowly rises like a freshly baked loaf of bread. "It's only a little water. Worst comes to the worst, we'll just buy you another shirt."

When Jeongguk says it's only a 'little water,' he's telling a big fat lie.

You're both well aware that 'little' is hardly the appropriate word to use.

Not when you're standing next to the entrance of the largest outdoor waterpark in the city.

You don't want to say definitively, but you think it might be the largest waterpark in the entire district. Biggest you've ever been to, that's for sure, not that you really make a habit of it.

"Look," he says. "You're the one who wrote the bird, not me. Blame yourself."

"And you're the one who didn't give me a dress code," you reply with a small scoff. He's unbelievable.

It's not like he was ever supposed to see your birds. Your intention had only ever been for the pair of you to vent out your frustration; to see them in black and white and maybe colour them in.

"You could have just looked at Naver. Seen where you were going."

"You told me not to!"

Jeongguk smirks to himself, a little pleased with how much you seem to have blindly trusted him. He also thinks it's incredibly foolish, and adds it to his list of things he needs to worry about in the future. While it's him that you're mindlessly following the orders of, it's okay, he supposes. Knows you're safe. Nothing to worry about right now.

"You'll be fine, Byeol," he says, hooking an arm around your neck, rubbing his knuckles against the crown of your head. You don't even bother to scramble away, sensing his grip tighten when your back edges out from his grasp. With arms like his, you're ensnared whether you like it or not. "You bring your bird?"

He keeps his arm locked around your neck, resting on your shoulders, but stands a little straighter as you head in direction of the waterpark. His relaxed posture allows you to rummage around in your tote bag for the small piece of folded paper. It's in the bottom, a little crumpled, but still quite clearly in bird form.

Jeongguk pinches it from you as soon as you retrieve it, not seeming to care much for the fact that it's your bird. You're locked in by his arms as he strengthens some of the creases that have fallen lax thanks to the lack of attention you'd been paying when you tossed it into the bag.

"You're gonna give yourself bad bird luck," he tells you. "Gotta preserve them, Byeol, or otherwise you'll never overcome your fears."

"I'm not really sure we'll be overcoming any fears today," you mutter in response.

He takes great offence to this. Tells you to 'stop being a negative Nancy', and that 'you'll never overcome your fears with an attitude like that'. You pinch him through his shirt. He recoils away from you, finally giving you a little room to breathe.

And then he calls you a goblin.

"That's rich," you snort, peering into your bag once again to get your wallet, shooing his hands away as he brings out his own wallet from his shorts pocket. "Nah, this is on me. My fear. I'll pay."

There's an attempt from him to protest, but you just tell the cashier you're paying for two, and there's very little he can do about it. He feels bad. This is, after all, his idea. He gave you no wiggle room. You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him.

A bathroom? Maybe.

But not here.

"Absolutely not," you had exclaimed yesterday afternoon after reading the bird. Jeongguk couldn't stop laughing. "Stop! You'll give me a complex."

He hadn't meant to find it so funny - he was just taken by surprise. It's a reflex.

"No, no," he cooed. "It's cute. Really sweet, actually. Should have told me last night. Could have actually done something about it."

It was at that point that you flicked him on the forehead. Told him to go touch some grass. Get his head out of his ass.

And then, finally, you told him, "You're never showering with me."

In typical Jeongguk fashion, he'd just smirked. Found your defensiveness funny. "And nor is anyone else, apparently."

The bird resting on Jeongguk's stomach was laying flat, open on your words:

SHOWER WITH SOMEONE ELSE.

He thinks it's the all caps that cracked him up so much. So aggressive. So cute. A bit like you.

Showers had been one of your favourite forms of intimacy during past relationships. You'd even found it fun with casual hookups.

But now?

Feels forbidden. Tarnished. Dirty.

It's almost as if someone else running their hands over your skin beneath the water will rid you of the stain that Seokjin left - and if you're not his, whose are you?

It's stupid because you don't belong to anyone but yourself. You'd spent months resenting the removal of your identity, but now that you have the chance to reclaim it, you're still letting his mark remain.

You had told Jeongguk later that afternoon - with absolute certainty - that he'd never be facing that fear with you, only for him to say, "it doesn't have to be that big of a deal. I'll prove it to you."

And now he's trying to do exactly that.

He leads as you follow and make your way into the park. It's been a fair few years since your last visit, but it always looks the same; paint work a little tatty, white watermarks tarnishing pipes, and slightly dated equipment available for hire. In fact, you think the inflatables sitting pretty and ready for renting might be the same ones you used as a child on family trips.

"Still don't understand how on earth this is supposed to help me with my fear of intimacy," you speak softly once Jeongguk is done telling you about the tallest waterslide in the world. It's in Brazil, and he insists that he doesn't understand why on earth they called it Kilimanjaro when it's not even remotely close in height nor geographical location.

You tell him he's pedantic and he smiles as if you've just given him a gold star.

"It's helping because we're making it less scary," Jeongguk states all very plainly. Seems simple to him. His logical mind leaps from A to B, while yours is still spiralling round and round like a hula-hoop. "What do you do in the shower?"

"When I'm with someone else?" You raise a brow. "Not sure I want to say it out loud in a kid's waterpark."

"Oh, ew, no, not that part. I mean the basics," he sighs, before choosing just to answer for you. "You get wet. That's the first hurdle."

"Gguk, that's barely even the first meter," you counter. "And after that? There's still a billion hurdles left to jump."

"Well, you have to start somewhere, don't you?" He nudges his shoulder against yours, before spotting the concessions store up ahead. "See. Told you you'd be able to buy a shirt. Here."

He hands you his wallet, only for you to pass it right back.

"It's good, I'll get it."

"I dragged you here."

"And I'm the one who made that stupid bird," you laugh. "It's fine. Tell you what though, if they only have ugly shirts, you're gonna have to get one too. Can't be doing this alone."

"Watcha mean?"

"Well look at you," you shrug, as if it's plainly obvious. "You're in all black and - not that I agree with this, but - I'm sure some people will find you 'okay' looking. You know all the yummy mummies are gonna be swooning over you instead of looking after their kids."

"Swooning?" He grins with a small chortle. "Are you trying to insinuate something, Byeol?"

You gasp, and take a step away from him. "Are you saying I look like a mother?"

This, he decides rather quickly, is dangerous. You almost sound like you're flirting. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it, just that he knows he shouldn't indulge himself and yet-

"Maybe I'm into MILFs."

You've a remarkably good poker face. He can't tell if you're actually annoyed, until you look at him with a small smile. It's hidden by the sultry, tempestuous expression you're throwing his way, but definitely still there.

"So first I'm a mother, and now you wanna fuck me? Well, aren't you full of surprises?"

If there's one thing Jeongguk enjoys, it's a girl who knows how to twist words. Regretfully, it always gets him thinking about other ways they could twist their tongues. The thoughts are unsavoury. Sordid. Lewd.

But you're you.

You're off-limits, and he knows better than to play with fire. He needs to get you wet.

Just, like, not in that way.

"I'll put you under that fountain if you don't stop twisting my words," he asserts as you walk through the park. To your right is a pool, with bright slides twisting in all directions around it. Families play, and laughter prevails. It's nice.

To your left is a row of spouting fountains for kids to run through, water pitter-pattering against the warm concrete floor. They're tall enough that even Jeongguk could stand beneath them without issue. You always think they look like reverse umbrellas; water pouring where protection should be.

Puddles of water interrupt the walkway, but neither of you care all that much.

"Maybe if you got your head out your ass and stopped flirting-"

"Not flirting."

You scoff as sarcasm wraps itself around your words. "Yeah, and I'm a MILF."

He pauses. Stops walking. Laughs.

"Right," Jeongguk says. "That's it."

It's said in a tone so light and airy that you almost don't realise he's wrapping his arms around you with a grip tight enough to crack a rib. Your playful shrieks are ignored by other park visitors, chalked up to you being a pair of young lovers enjoying the frivolity of a waterpark together.

"I'm in white!" is your final cry before he pulls you under the cascade of a fountain with him.

The worst part of it, you think, is how goddamn happy he sounds, laughing at your misery.

"And I told you to stop twisting my words, Byeol," he says like the bastard he is, while you struggle against him again. Finally releasing you, he keeps a clasp on your wrists to prevent you from straying. "You made your choice."

"I made no such thing," you wail, but the stream of water has you spluttering - and then you're laughing.

Laughing just like he is; like how you imagine Galileo would have laughed when he first pointed his telescope skyward, and saw the rings of Saturn. It's unadulterated. Blissful. Pure.

Jeongguk loosens his grip on your wrists. He rests his elbows on your shoulders, using his hands to create a barrier between the stream of water and your eyes. There's glitter on your cheeks, now, forced to part way with your eyes thanks to the water pressure, and Jeongguk finds himself grinning at how you manage to look like a party even in the middle of the day.

Perhaps he's a lot more like Galileo than you first thought. Maybe he's laughing because he's looking at the stars, too.

Water barrels down on the pair of you, soaking your hair, your clothes, your skin. It's heavy, the pressure of the fountain far heavier than a shower, but you suppose the outcome is the same.

You don't want to look at Jeongguk with anything but moderate vexation, and yet there's a fond smile tugging at your lips.

Strands of wet hair stick to his face, droplets catching on his lashes and falling down his cheeks. He shakes like a dog caught out in the rain, only to continue getting drenched because he doesn't move from the fountains trajectory. It'd be so easy for him to just manoeuvre himself out of the fountain's direct line and hold you in place, but he chooses to be caught up in it, too. Chooses to be with you. Experience with you.

You'd done his bird together. Only fair for him to do yours with you.

"You still scared, Byeol?" Jeongguk asks, voice quiet beneath the water pummeling down on you both, and yet it has your attention loud and clear.

You want to banter back, say something that will get tripping on his words just like you seem to be - but the rope tied around your ankles seems to be around your tongue, too. Instead, you just shake your head.

"See," he smiles, now. Pulls a hand away from your forehead to wipe at his. Puts it back. "Are showers really that scary?"

And then you do laugh. "It's not a shower. You know it isn't even close."

His face scrunches, water catching in all of his little ridges.

He'll admit the water is annoying. Keeps having to close his eyes. It's bothersome, and it's not like he even cares for boundaries anymore at this point, so-

Fuck it.

His pinkies are against your forehead, index fingers outward. He lowers his head, mirroring you. Rests his forehead against his index fingers. Swears. Can finally fucking see.

And now that he can?

He's looking at you.

With his head angled to such a degree that your chins couldn't be further apart, you still manage to fool yourself to believe that your lashes could brush.

"It's as close as we'll get to one," he counters. "You are showering with another person."

"I'm under a stream of water with another person."

"And how is that any different to showering with someone?"

He isn't stupid. He knows the answer. Knows that you're pedantic enough to go into all the clauses and stipulations that would ever stop this from being classed as a shower - and so he doesn't let you.

Instead, he pulls away, grabbing your wrist as he does so. Leads you further into the park with a smile so big you're surprised he doesn't dislocate his jaw.

"That's the hard part done," he assures you. "You've had a shower with someone. Say thank you."

There's an acute awareness between you both that he's not helped you to overcome your fear in the slightest - but he does have you laughing as you walk through the park, absolutely sodden, without a single care in the world. You're not even bothered by the fact your black bra is visible through the soaked fabric of your shirt.

See, Jeongguk's gotten you relaxed in a situation when you know you'd typically be frantic. He's taking the pressure off. Got you giggling. Got you facing a fear, even if it's not exactly how he set out to do so, nor the fear in question.

In his defence, he really had thought his contrived little plan would count. He'd have never insisted on actually taking a shower with you. He understands why you consider them so intimate. He does, too. Something about the vulnerability really gets him. It's not even the sex that inevitably comes with one that makes him weak at the knees.

He thinks of the girl who folded paper butterflies for him, and how he'd shampoo her hair, chest pressed to her back, and the fact it was in the confines of his bathroom that he realised he was in love with her.

So, Jeongguk gets it. It's why he wouldn't even consider anything but his dumb little waterpark shower as a remedy of your insecurities. He hopes a lesson is learned even if a fear isn't overcome: you can let down your guard without giving up all of you.

What it comes down to, you think, is that Jeongguk isn't a taker. He's not a giver, either, really - but when your walls start to crack and crumble, he doesn't intrude. Stands at a safe distance. Offer you back your bricks. Most men you knew would see a weakness in your defences and claim what's yours as their own.

He's not always been this way. Used to have a 'what's yours is mine' understanding of his relationships, too.

His butterfly girl had taught him that no, just because he was given temporary access to something didn't mean it was his. He'd learnt the hard way after he'd always swapped his heart with hers, not realising she'd ever want it back.

And so while Jeongguk will never fully understand whatever you went through - not unless you choose to share it with him - he can empathise. Treat you how he wished someone would have treated him while he was still healing.

As the clouds migrate across the sky, fluffy white shapes occasionally hiding the careful watch of the sun, the day rolls into stupid competitions and races down the tallest slides in the park. The reason you'd ended up here doesn't seem to matter.

Jeongguk races you to the top of the slides again, and again, and again, just to try and beat you down them. He never wins.

Not until you hold back by just a millisecond.

It's just enough to give him a slight edge, and have him roaring in victory - "ha! suck it! loser!" - as he slaps at the water, a smile larger than Hang Sơn Đoòng eclipsing any desire you had to win. You'll let him have this one. Let him have one victory.

The haze of late-afternoon sun grazes down on the pair of you, while you lounge by the 'adults-only' pool area. A lot of families have gone home already, but sometimes it's nice to be away from the shrieks of kids messing about in the water.

You're not exactly the maternal type. In fact, Jeongguk's the one who's been pointing out how cute the kids are in their little armbands and sprout hairstyles. He's not wrong. They're incredibly adorable - you're just not that naturally inclined to go 'awww'.

It's all swings and roundabouts, though. Getting away from kids meant being surrounded by, well, some less wholesome auras.

Jeongguk thinks he notices it first; the unwelcome gaze of a middle-aged man. He's felt it for a little while. Upwards of ten minutes. Thinks you're none the wiser. Tries to figure out what's so fucking interesting. Stares him out a little bit - but is ignored.

See, the man - who is probably old enough to be your father - isn't looking at Jeongguk at all. Too busy staring at you, and that shirt of yours which is still yet to dry out. You're on your back, sunning yourself, clothes sodden and sticking to your skin.

Jeongguk thinks you look no different to anyone else in the park. It's typical to wear regular clothes in places like these. Would be more shocking if you were in a bikini. And so while yes, he has noticed the fact your bra is dark, he couldn't tell you the colour because he's been trying not to look. Actively avoiding it, actually.

Annoyance isn't something that Jeongguk's ever been able to hide well.

As he sucks in a little bit of air between his teeth and mutters a small curse to himself, you glance over.

"Hmm?" you ask.

It's not like you don't know the man's staring. You had warned Jeongguk about your attire earlier. Was always gonna happen. He just hadn't realised that this was the reason why you'd been so insistent about the fact he was an asshole for not giving you a dress code.

Realistically, you could have bought a second shirt - but the pair of you got distracted. Didn't care so much when you were laughing and joking about how you both look like rats with your hair all wet.

"Here," he says, tugging on his shirt at the nape of his neck. There's resistance, the weight of the water dragging against his skin, but he pays it no mind as he pulls the shirt over his head. You're still laying down on your back, and turn onto your front with a small grin.

"Y'know if I really was all that bothered, I'd just do this," you say, talking about your change in position. It's not that you want the man to stare - you just know he will regardless. Know that your shorts have ridden up a little, and so he's getting a whole new type of show.

Jeongguk doesn't laugh. Smiles, but doesn't let it reach his eyes. Leans over and drapes the fabric of his shirt over the top of your legs. Over your ass. "You'll burn."

"I'm wearing suncream," you purr, knowing that this has nothing to do with keeping your skin safe.

And so Jeongguk just shrugs. Considers staying silent. Chooses not to.

"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he almost growls beneath his breath, feigning indifference through his body language. "But I don't."

"You saying you can't help yourself?" You tease, to which he just rolls his eyes and lays back down.

"I can help myself perfectly well," he says, tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek. "Just didn't finish my sentence."

"Oh?" you chirp with great curiosity.

There's a boldness to the way you're engaging in conversation with him. Makes you realise that Jeongguk is just the same as any other boy. He can see you as a sexual object, apparently. Just chooses not to. It's all very interesting.

"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he repeats, crossing his arms over his torso, a defensiveness to his posture, even when he's flat on his back. "But I don't want him to."

Though his eyes remain closed, Jeongguk can hear you move to sit on your knees.

Your back is to the sleazebag, Jeongguk shirt bunching by your heels. You pull it around and bundle it in your lap, mouth resting open in a slight stare of shock.

Unspoken words beg for him to look at you.

But he doesn't. Keeps his eyes firmly shut. Grins. Just says, "Lie back down, Byeol."

The worst part is that you want to. You really do. When his voice is that low, the look on his face that cocky, you want to fold like a sheet of fucking origami paper. Have him bending you about like one of those damn birds.

But then you take a second to think, and realise you're no better than that guy who is still staring at you so intensely you're surprised he doesn't burst a blood vessel. Makes you feel bad. Guilty.

So instead you toss Jeongguk his shirt back and, as you stand, say, "I've a fear of intimacy, Jeongguk. No fear in telling men to fuck off."

He's not surprised by your response. Quite amused by it. Sits up on his elbows. Watches with curiosity as you walk away from him - and then is stunned to see you beeline for the man.

It's the kind of thing he'd see in a movie, background characters slowing to a stop, time ceasing to move except for the leading lady.

And then you're pointing. Accusing. Jeongguk's not sure of what - he can't hear you from this far away - but he knows it isn't nice. Watches the blood drain from the man's face. He's ghostly. And then it all returns, red and raw, with such a vengeance he's surprised blood doesn't start leaking from his nose.

When you turn on your heel, Jeongguk observes with morbid novelty at the scene unfolding; the intense shame on the man's face and the pure brilliance on yours.

"Men," you sigh, as you sit back down next to him. Mirroring his position, you're up on your elbows until you casually let yourself fall back into your original position. "Sorry, where were we? You told me to lie down? Done."

Jeongguk doesn't say anything. Just grins. Collapses back down, too. Doesn't tell you to cover up. Knows better.

Doesn't shut up about it for the rest of the day, though.

Relays the story to you as if you weren't there - weren't central to it - with so much animation that you think he might turn into a cartoon on the subway home.

He's still talking about it between the part where he invites you back for dinner - "Jimin's gonna be in but it's cool. We haven't eaten all day, you must be starving." - and the part where he stands by your door, taking a whole twenty minutes to say goodbye.

You've declined the offer. Told him it'd be a bit weird seeing Jimin. Wouldn't know how to explain it. Jeongguk just says "of course, yeah, you're right. Didn't even think of that. My bad."

There's a little silence afterwards. You know why. It's rejection. Not romantic, nor for anything serious, but it's still the same difference. He'd spent the day trying to help you break down walls only for you to put your bricks on top of his.

It's as he's heading down your stairs (after his fifteenth and final 'bye') that you realise how rude you've been. Just 'cause you wouldn't feel entirely welcome at his doesn't mean he's not welcome at yours.

"Hey, wait a sec! Danbi's home, but do you wanna eat here?" You chance. "We don't have much in, but I can order or we can-"

"My God, I thought you'd never ask," he grins immediately turning on his heel and back towards you. "So hungry I might die."

"You won't."

"I could."

The pair of you bicker as you enter your apartment, Danbi glancing up from the sofa. She looks at you, then looks at Jeongguk, and takes a second to place his face. Definitely knows it - and then it clicks.

She considers asking why the fuck your favourite barman is following you in. He's known within the confines of your apartment as the Barman That Smiles (more commonly referred to as BTS boy), Jeongguk's name a secret just for you to know. Danbi doesn't realise all of those nights you waste are the bar are wasted on him, nor does she realise he's the reason you snuck off the other night.

What she does wonder, however, is if this is all part of your master-get-revenge-on-Seokjin-plan.

Instead of voicing any of these queries, she settles on "what are we having for dinner?"

You shrug. "Ask Jeongguk. He's paying."

He raises a brow as if to question your assertion - only for him to cough up the bill for the pizza delivery that feeds the three of you through a Deadpool rewatch.

When he leaves, Danbi tells him he has to come back next week for Deadpool 2. You grin as you walk him out.

"She just wants you to pay for more food," you tell and he nods. Says he knows.

But then he calls back over to Danbi, "See you next week."

She does a little cheer, and it's all very sweet. They get on well. His humour is welcome in your apartment, and so is his presence. Danbi also hopes it means she'll get more free drinks next time she's at the club.

"She'll play you like a damn fiddle if you let her," you warn just out of her earshot.

"Good," he grins. "We can double date with you and Jimin."

You tell him to fuck off - but also insist that he lets you know when he gets home. The way you care about him is so casual that it feels as if it's been this way for years.

As he heads on home, Jeongguk kind of hopes it will be. Hopes it's the kind of friendship that stands the test of time. Worries that he shouldn't take the flirting too far - but then he's distracted by the little fleck of glitter on the top of his hand. His thoughts are lost, a smile unwinding on his lips as he strolls back to his place.

The skies are void of stars tonight, and yet, for the first time in months, Jeongguk's eyes are full of them.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

#by holly #jk #jeongguk fanfic #jungkook fanfic #Jungkook Fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook ff #jeongguk fic #bartender!jungkook #BD #bad decisions #bangtan #bts fanfic #dappleddaisies

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copperbadge · 2 years ago

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Hi, I have started a new office job! It's good, I like the people I work with and the work itself but it's sooo different from what I'm used to? I don't always feel I have enough to do, which is partly b/c of the time of year and cause I'm still new, only 30 days, but is this normal-ish? I am trying to be self directed and going thru my responsibilities but somedays, there's just not a lot? Have you ever found that in any of your jobs?

Yeah, a lot of office jobs are like this -- mine have almost all had a great deal of empty space in them. It's not universal for sure, but it's not at all unusual. The only time I've had an office job where I really didn't have any time free during the average week was right at the end of my last job when we were heavily downstaffed and I was doing about three peoples' worth of jobs. Even then, my schedule had some flex to it.

Especially as a newbie you're going to have a lot of downtime because people are giving you time to settle in, or they're trying to work out what they can assign to you, or they're waiting until you're fully trained to start assigning you more responsibility. And you may have less work at this time of year because a lot of people are out of office or for other reasons (this is actually a busy time for me and my crew, because we get a lot of end-of-year donations, but a ton of nonprofit work is backwards to the rhythms of normal for-profit office work).

I recommend never, ever telling anyone at work that you are not busy, however. For one, most people in any given office know that we aren't working at 100% for 100% of the time, because if we were we'd all be exhausted. Two, it means you'll be given more work. :D Which, okay, some of that is "Why work when you don't have to" but some of it is also that it is GOOD to have slack built into your schedule. It means you can ramp up when needed, and also that you get periods of brain rest, and also that you have time to work on independent projects should you wish, whether those are for work or, say, fanfic. I actually at this point tend to lower expectations by waiting to submit work -- I'll finish a project a day early and submit it the day it's due regardless.

In one job, I had to process documents being converted from PDF to Word, then pass them on to our proofer; he could only proof about four documents a day, but I could process about 20. So on Monday I'd process all 20 documents, and send him four of them -- and the rest of the week I'd send him four a day, and write fanfic for hours on end. Occasionally they gave me other jobs to do, but at that job I was essentially paid full time to work one day a week and show up to do nothing the other four.

The average office worker only works four hours a day. In some jobs I've literally booked out those four hours and fucked around the rest of the time. When I needed to, I'd break into Fuck Around Time in order to do more work, but otherwise -- they're paying me for results, not for sweat. As a front-desk receptionist it was baked in, actually; they said to me "There's going to be long periods of time where you are doing nothing. Your job at those times is to entertain yourself in ways that don't make it look like you're goofing off if someone important walks in." I wrote a lot of fanfic and novels, read a lot of books, did a shitload of origami. I loved that job; if it paid better I probably never would have left it.

Eventually, too, you will learn the rhythms of your job and workplace, and figure out when you're most likely to have empty time, so that you can build around it. For instance, on Fridays I get a data document that I have to evaluate and present to my colleagues the following Wednesday. Friday and Monday are therefore my busy days; Tuesday and Wednesday are for work I might have put off during the busy days. Thursday is generally just an open day; I can do long-term work projects, or I can spend the whole day dicking around. If a rush job comes in, I can push work into Thursday to get the rush job done, regardless of when it arrives.

In any case, you have a couple of options for continuing to look busy even when you aren't. If you can read on a computer screen, queue up some books or fanfic (be careful what you access on company internet, of course; I have more free range than most and am not monitored because my job is researched-based and I have to go to some weird shit places). Read newspapers you might have access to, or work on your own writing/creative endeavors on cloud-based apps. A couple of times a year I'd dedicate the empty space in a week to going through old files and organizing them, or cleaning out my email inboxes.

You can also, if you desire, work on independent projects for your actual employer. In my spare time I've built several tools to make my life easier, some of which I've shown to my bosses to impress them. Some just make my work go faster and my bosses don't know that, and don't have to. Again: they are paying for results, not for me to sit there like a booby doing work I don't have to do. If there are ways to streamline processes, you can use the time to think about implementing them (although ask other people they may impact, first). The other day I was giving a mailing list one last scroll-through before sending it to my boss, and idly realized there was a fantastic opportunity to do a little data visualization, so I whipped that up and added it to the email I was sending, like "Hey I also noticed this, see what you think."

For a while, in my last job, I had enough lee time in my schedule that most days I could work my second job as a transcriptionist while at my primary job. That can get perilous and I don't recommend it, but it can be done...

Anyway, be at ease, this is supposed to be the case and it's a great bonus when it actually does happen :D Do your work competently and efficiently and don't worry too much about the empty spots, just take breaks and keep yourself entertained.

#sam works #office work

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cottonraincoat · 11 months ago

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making of monday: the stressed student's guide to binge writing a one-shot

(not that I'm a very good writer, but I loved seeing these on the dash, and decided to join. all this is only a little tongue-in-cheek.)

step one: try to work on an irl assignment*

(* not fandom related at all. preferably an intellectually challenging task that is also time-sensitive and reasonably important.)

There's nothing like the looming dread of deadline that stimulates the mind! Combine the perfectionist's fear of beginning, the procrastinator's tendency to distraction, and the pressure on the brain to produce something— for the most bizarre results. Namely, mildly unhinged fic ideas. Just sit down (curl up into a ball in the corner of the room), relax (stress), and wait for inspiration to come!

step two: "just, uh, just to note this down for later"

You never know when the idea would come, but it does. Now, you've got a seed, that your brain has instantly latched onto. It's growing and blooming and taking over every thought. "damn it," you think, "this is a fun idea. I can't write it before I finish the assignment though!" But the idea doesn't let you go, it's like a haunting, which is in all honesty very rude. Well, what can you do.

You open a doc.

Within half an hour, you realize that you should have known better than believing the idea (tm) would leave you alone.

step three: give in. you're writing the fic instead.

Congratulations! Your brain has once again chosen the path of least resistance instead of what you should be doing. But there's no time for guilt when you have to finish the fic (and finish the assignment after that). So you're writing the fic like your life depends on it, and the words come surprisingly easy because given the baseline stress, you aren't overthinking every single word or ridiculously lines of narrative. It's been hours, your mind's afloat, and you (unfortunately) forget approximately every duty to your body. But it's fun and you swear you've never written like this in your life.

From time to time you swap back to the page where your assignment stares helplessly back at you. You blink. You drop it back under the metaphorical rock.

step four: "fuck, the deadline is in [x] hours. I can't do this anymore"

By now, the first draft is probably sitting there in a messy, wonderful glop. And depending on the circumstance, it's either [start editing now, future rain can deal with this shit] or [despite all evidence to the contrary I actually do not want to fail this degree. time to pull myself by the hair into doing the Thing]. Either way, you've maybe slept for 6 of the last 40 hours, and you're contemplating the strange quality of your vision and why you can hear the inside of a conch at the back of your head, etc etc.

step five: sleep, and spare a moment to pause and wonder what the fuck is your life

when the assignment is done, it's like someone's poked a hole in your sand balloon and your entire being sags. it's a nice feeling, kind of. the fic stops you from spending too much time wondering why the hell are you doing the degree at all.

time to turn the glop into coherence! this is the most time consuming part, and could take up to days after the initial burst of [stuff].

step six: edit until your eyeballs fall out

what it says ^

step seven: when you finally cannot stand another minute of re-reading and editing, throw it onto ao3, and hopefully never think about the fic ever again.

that's a lie. you'll be checking the ao3 stats approximately every two hours for the next two days at least.

fics that actually happened like this:

Infinite Joy (the one that started it all)

Designation (in which I forgot Plo Koon had a mask)

on not sleeping with your students

(the first chapter of) the prophecies spoke of you and I

family line

#making of monday #shitposting

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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year ago

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bad decisions - jjk | nine

"You made your choice." "I made no such thing," you wail, but the stream of water has you spluttering—and then you're laughing. Laughing just like he is; like how you imagine Galileo would have laughed when he first pointed his telescope skyward, and saw the rings of Saturn. It's unadulterated. Blissful. Pure. Jungkook loosens his grip on your wrists. He rests his elbows on your shoulders, using his hands to create a barrier between the stream of water and your eyes. There's glitter on your cheeks, now, forced to part way with your eyes thanks to the water pressure, and Jungkook finds himself grinning at how you manage to look like a party even in the middle of the day. Perhaps he's a lot more like Galileo than you first thought. Maybe he's laughing because he's looking at the stars, too.

Bad Decision #9 - White

warnings: birdie time he he. honestly just very wholesome all round, but the embers are burningggg, they're very wet! fantastic! (1) mention of Hang Sơn Đoòng (worlds biggest cave).

soundtrack: lemon - loco, hwasa; safety zone - j-hope

wc: 6k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

It's mid-morning the following Monday when Jungkook's message lands in your inbox. The sky is free of clouds, sun beating down on the windows of the subway carriage you're in. It's above ground, crossing the river.

Three unread messages sit pretty at the top of your inbox.

JK: Still on for today?

Danbi: u, me, ryan reynolds in lycra, tonight. game?

Seokjin: such a tease, you know i love those shorts on you - if memory serves me correctly they were off far more than they were on whenever you wore them ;) you around tonight?

Jungkook is probably the only one who needs a reply, and yet you can't help but stare at Seokjin's message for a little longer than you should.

If Danbi knew you were texting him, she'd probably confiscate your phone, like your parents used to do during your teen years. Jungkook'd probably throw all your stupid little origami birds at you. Would hope you'd get a paper cut.

It'd be deserved, you think.

Jungkook had wasted his entire Sunday on you as a result of Seokjin's carelessness. You didn't leave until Jimin had taken a nap on the couch at just gone six, your day full of mindless chatter and harmless distractions from Seokjin. It had been nice. Comforting.

And yet when you'd arrived home, a text had been waiting from Seokjin—heyyy, sorry I had to rush off. didn't wanna wake you. you looked toooo cute. was so nice to see you again.

It's kind of embarrassing, the way your heart seemed to settle at the sight of it; like things were as they should be once more.

You told yourself that Seokjin hadn't meant to upset you. That it was all a big misunderstanding.

He said everything you wanted him to in that message. Said sorry. Maybe he didn't give you an excuse nor an explanation, but he did give you a compliment, and that had you giggling.

Had you thinking that maybe you'd been reactive, and were too highly strung. Perhaps he was never the issue. What if it was you?

Still, it's Jungkook's message thread you tap through to instead.

You: yeah, just on the subway now! we're still meeting there?

You contemplate whether or not you want to tell him that you've spoken to Seokjin later. He'll no doubt ask about him, with a sneer on his lips, nose upturned at the mere thought of him. You know you'll only lie. "No. Not heard from him."

It's not that you want to be dishonest. Not in the slightest.

You're no stranger to a white lie or two, but Jungkook had scooped up all of your broken pieces in the early hours of yesterday morning, and tried to washi tape them back together—only for you to run straight back to the person holding a sledgehammer.

You don't want to be reckless with the care Jungkook's afforded to you; it's just that while Jin's got a sledgehammer in one hand, it also looks like he's got super glue in the other. It's a little bit stronger than washi tape.

Especially Jungkook's rolls of washi tape, which are the entire reason why you're spending your day off on the subway, and not tucked up in bed, instead.

Jungkook had devised a plan following the fall of your origami bird, but had neglected to tell you exactly what that plan was.

Had said, "Look, I won't lie—I can't help you with this. Gimmie the evening to think of a plan, though? I'll text you later."

He'd texted you an address by the time you'd arrived home. Told you not to search it up; said he'd meet you there at midday. Kind of felt like a challenge, and you don't like losing, so you'd done as he'd said. Other than putting the address into Naver maps to find the route, you were none the wiser as to where you were headed.

The subway leads you to the outskirts of town. Down by the river, just a little further up from the arboretum you always tell yourself you should visit more often. You're local to the city, but it's so vast that there are still areas you aren't too familiar with. This is one of them. You know what's in the general area—the arboretum, an old water park, and some museums, but you've no idea what the exact address could be.

As you climb the stairs, you're regretful of the fact you actually listened to Jungkook. Should have looked up the address beforehand. Seen what was about; what dress code would have been appropriate.

There had been a little tactful positioning of your phone in front of your face when you took your photo. Had been covering your eyes. Hiding the glitter.

And it's funny, 'cause it's the first thing that Jungkook notices when he spots you.

You're looking around, realising exactly where you are, a frown slowly forming. He'd expected nothing less. You always arrive with a small frown whenever he's around—but he also always manages to get you beaming, too. It's part of the charm that comes with being around Jungkook. Bad moods dissolve into nothingness.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He glows as if he hadn't seen you less than twenty-four hours ago.

Strolling towards you, he ignores the slight scowl that's resting on your neat brows. Just continues smiling. All doe-eyed and dainty. Hopes you won't be able to resist breaking into a smile, too.

He likes your glitter today. It's just in the corners of your eyes. Thinks you look like a fairy.

Jungkook's wearing all black. A pair of shorts, a long sleeve swimming shirt and one of his many oversized black t-shirts over the top. See, he's dressed according to his plans—the plans that he neglected to share with you.

When Jungkook says it's only a 'little water,' he's telling a big fat lie.

You're both well aware that 'little' is hardly the appropriate word to use.

Not when you're standing next to the entrance of the largest outdoor waterpark in the city.

You don't want to say definitively, but you think it might be the largest waterpark in the entire district. Biggest you've ever been to, that's for sure, not that you really make a habit of it.

"Look," he says. "You're the one who wrote the bird, not me. Blame yourself."

"And you're the one who didn't give me a dress code," you reply with a small scoff. He's unbelievable.

It's not like he was ever supposed to see your birds. Your intention had only ever been for the pair of you to vent out your frustration; to see them in black and white and maybe colour them in.

"You could have just looked at Naver. Seen where you were going."

"You told me not to!"

Jungkook smirks to himself, a little pleased with how much you seem to have blindly trusted him.

He also thinks it's incredibly foolish, and adds it to his list of things he needs to worry about in the future. While it's him that you're mindlessly following the orders of, it's okay, he supposes. Knows you're safe. Nothing to worry about right now.

Jungkook pinches it from you as soon as you retrieve it, not seeming to care much for the fact that it's your bird. You're locked in by his arms as he strengthens some of the creases that have fallen lax thanks to the lack of attention you'd been paying when you tossed it into the bag.

"You're gonna give yourself bad bird luck," he tells you. "Gotta preserve them, Byeol, or otherwise you'll never overcome your fears."

"I'm not really sure we'll be overcoming any fears today," you mutter in response.

And then he calls you a goblin.

"That's rich," you snort, peering into your bag once again to get your wallet, shooing his hands away as he brings out his own wallet from his shorts pocket. "Nah, this is on me. My fear. I'll pay."

A bathroom? Maybe.

But not here.

"Absolutely not," you had exclaimed yesterday afternoon after reading the bird. Jungkook couldn't stop laughing. "Stop! You'll give me a complex."

He hadn't meant to find it so funny - he was just taken by surprise. It's a reflex.

"No, no," he cooed. "It's cute. Really sweet, actually. Should have told me last night. Could have actually done something about it."

It was at that point that you flicked him on the forehead. Told him to go touch some grass. Get his head out of his ass.

And then, finally, you told him, "You're never showering with me."

In typical Jungkook fashion, he'd just smirked. Found your defensiveness funny. "And nor is anyone else, apparently."

The bird resting on Jungkook's stomach was laying flat, open on your words:

!!SHOWER WITH SOMEONE ELSE!!

He thinks it's the all-caps that cracked him up so much. So aggressive. So cute. A bit like you.

Showers had been one of your favourite forms of intimacy during past relationships. You'd even found it fun with casual hookups.

But now?

Feels forbidden. Tarnished. Dirty.

It's almost as if someone else running their hands over your skin beneath the water will rid you of the stain that Seokjin left - and if you're not his, whose are you?

You had told Jungkook later that afternoon—with absolute certainty—that he'd never be facing that fear with you, only for him to say, "It doesn't have to be that big of a deal. I'll prove it to you."

And now he's trying to do exactly that.

"Still don't understand how on earth this is supposed to help me with my fear of intimacy," you speak softly once Jungkook is done telling you about the tallest waterslide in the world. It's in Brazil, and he insists that he doesn't understand why on earth they called it Kilimanjaro when it's not even remotely close in height nor geographical location.

You tell him he's pedantic and he smiles as if you've just given him a gold star.

"It's helping because we're making it less scary," Jungkook states all very plainly. Seems simple to him. His logical mind leaps from A to B, while yours is still spiralling round and round like a hula-hoop. "What do you do in the shower?"

"When I'm with someone else?" You raise a brow. "Not sure I want to say it out loud in a kid's waterpark."

"Oh, ew, no, not that part. I mean the basics," he sighs, before choosing just to answer for you. "You get wet. That's the first hurdle."

"Kook, that's barely even the first meter," you counter. "And after that? There's still a billion hurdles left to jump."

"Well, you have to start somewhere, don't you?" He nudges his shoulder against yours, before spotting the concessions store up ahead. "See. Told you you'd be able to buy a shirt. Here."

He hands you his wallet, only for you to pass it right back.

"It's good, I'll get it."

"I dragged you here."

"And I'm the one who made that stupid bird," you laugh. "It's fine. Tell you what though, if they only have ugly shirts, you're gonna have to get one too. Can't be doing this alone."

"Watcha mean?"

"Well look at you," you shrug, as if it's plainly obvious. "You're in all black and—not that I agree with this, but—I'm sure some people will find you 'okay' looking. You know all the yummy mummies are gonna be swooning over you instead of looking after their kids."

"Swooning?" He grins with a small chortle. "Are you trying to insinuate something, Byeol?"

You gasp, and take a step away from him. "Are you saying I look like a mother?"

This, he decides rather quickly, is dangerous. You almost sound like you're flirting. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it, just that he knows he shouldn't indulge himself and yet-

"Maybe I'm into MILFs."

"So first I'm a mother, and now you wanna fuck me? Well, aren't you full of surprises?"

If there's one thing Jungkook enjoys, it's a girl who knows how to twist words. Regretfully, it always gets him thinking about other ways they could twist their tongues. The thoughts are unsavoury. Sordid. Lewd.

But you're you.

You're off-limits, and he knows better than to play with fire. He needs to get you wet.

Just, like, not in that way.

To your left is a row of spouting fountains for kids to run through, water pitter-pattering against the warm concrete floor. They're tall enough that even Jungkook could stand beneath them without issue. You always think they look like reverse umbrellas; water pouring where protection should be.

Puddles of water interrupt the walkway, but neither of you care all that much.

"Maybe if you got your head out your ass and stopped flirting"—

"Not flirting."

You scoff as sarcasm wraps itself around your words. "Yeah, and I'm a MILF."

He pauses. Stops walking. Laughs.

"Right," Jungkook says. "That's it."

"I'm in white!" is your final cry before he pulls you under the cascade of a fountain with him.

The worst part of it, you think, is how goddamn happy he sounds, laughing at your misery.

"I made no such thing," you wail, but the stream of water has you spluttering—and then you're laughing.

Laughing just like he is; like how you imagine Galileo would have laughed when he first pointed his telescope skyward, and saw the rings of Saturn. It's unadulterated. Blissful. Pure.

Jungkook loosens his grip on your wrists. He rests his elbows on your shoulders, using his hands to create a barrier between the stream of water and your eyes. There's glitter on your cheeks, now, forced to part way with your eyes thanks to the water pressure, and Jungkook finds himself grinning at how you manage to look like a party even in the middle of the day.

Perhaps he's a lot more like Galileo than you first thought. Maybe he's laughing because he's looking at the stars, too.

Water barrels down on the pair of you, soaking your hair, your clothes, your skin. It's heavy, the pressure of the fountain far heavier than a shower, but you suppose the outcome is the same.

You don't want to look at Jungkook with anything but moderate vexation, and yet there's a fond smile tugging at your lips.

You'd done his bird together. Only fair for him to do yours with you.

"You still scared, Byeol?" Jungkook asks, voice quiet beneath the water pummeling down on you both, and yet it has your attention loud and clear.

You want to banter back, say something that will get tripping on his words just like you seem to be—but the rope tied around your ankles seems to be around your tongue, too. Instead, you just shake your head.

"See," he smiles, now. Pulls a hand away from your forehead to wipe at his. Puts it back. "Are showers really that scary?"

And then you do laugh. "It's not a shower. You know it isn't even close."

His face scrunches, water catching in all of his little ridges.

He'll admit the water is annoying. Keeps having to close his eyes. It's bothersome, and it's not like he even cares for boundaries anymore at this point, so—

Fuck it.

His pinkies are against your forehead, index fingers outward. He lowers his head, mirroring you. Rests his forehead against his index fingers. Swears. Can finally fucking see.

And now that he can?

He's looking at you.

With his head angled to such a degree that your chins couldn't be further apart, you still manage to fool yourself to believe that your lashes could brush.

"It's as close as we'll get to one," he counters. "You are showering with another person."

"I'm under a stream of water with another person."

"And how is that any different to showering with someone?"

He isn't stupid. He knows the answer. Knows that you're pedantic enough to go into all the clauses and stipulations that would ever stop this from being classed as a shower—and so he doesn't let you.

Instead, he pulls away, grabbing your wrist as he does so. Leads you further into the park with a smile so big you're surprised he doesn't dislocate his jaw.

"That's the hard part done," he assures you. "You've had a shower with someone. Say thank you."

There's an acute awareness between you both that he's not helped you to overcome your fear in the slightest—but he does have you laughing as you walk through the park, absolutely sodden, without a single care in the world. You're not even bothered by the fact your black bra is visible through the soaked fabric of your shirt.

See, Jungkook's gotten you relaxed in a situation when you know you'd typically be frantic. He's taking the pressure off. Got you giggling. Got you facing a fear, even if it's not exactly how he set out to do so, nor the fear in question.

So, Jungkook gets it. It's why he wouldn't even consider anything but his dumb little waterpark shower as a remedy of your insecurities. He hopes a lesson is learned even if a fear isn't overcome: you can let down your guard without giving up all of you.

What it comes down to, you think, is that Jungkook isn't a taker. He's not a giver, either, really - but when your walls start to crack and crumble, he doesn't intrude. Stands at a safe distance. Offer you back your bricks. Most men you knew would see a weakness in your defences and claim what's yours as their own.

He's not always been this way. Used to have a 'what's yours is mine' understanding of his relationships, too.

And so while Jungkook will never fully understand whatever you went through - not unless you choose to share it with him - he can empathise. Treat you how he wished someone would have treated him while he was still healing.

Jungkook races you to the top of the slides again, and again, and again, just to try and beat you down them. He never wins.

Not until you hold back by just a millisecond.

It's just enough to give him a slight edge, and have him roaring in victory —"Ha! Suck it! Loser!"— as he slaps at the water, a smile larger than Hang Sơn Đoòng eclipsing any desire you had to win. You'll let him have this one. Let him have one victory.

You're not exactly the maternal type. In fact, Jungkook's the one who's been pointing out how cute the kids are in their little armbands and sprout hairstyles. He's not wrong. They're incredibly adorable - you're just not that naturally inclined to go 'awww'.

It's all swings and roundabouts, though.

Getting away from kids meant being surrounded by, well, some less wholesome auras.

Jungkook thinks he notices it first; the unwelcome gaze of a middle-aged man. He's felt it for a little while. Upwards of ten minutes. Thinks you're none the wiser. Tries to figure out what's so fucking interesting. Stares him out a little bit - but is ignored.

See, the man—who is probably old enough to be your father—isn't looking at Jungkook at all. Too busy staring at you, and that shirt of yours which is still yet to dry out. You're on your back, sunning yourself, clothes sodden and sticking to your skin.

Jungkook thinks you look no different to anyone else in the park. It's typical to wear regular clothes in places like these. Would be more shocking if you were in a bikini. And so while yes, he has noticed the fact your bra is dark, he couldn't tell you the colour because he's been trying not to look. Actively avoiding it, actually.

Annoyance isn't something that Jungkook's ever been able to hide well.

As he sucks in a little bit of air between his teeth and mutters a small curse to himself, you glance over.

"Hmm?" you ask.

It's not like you don't know the man's staring. You had warned Jungkook about your attire earlier. Was always gonna happen. He just hadn't realised that this was the reason why you'd been so insistent about the fact he was an asshole for not giving you a dress code.

Jungkook doesn't laugh. Smiles, but doesn't let it reach his eyes. Leans over and drapes the fabric of his shirt over the top of your legs. Over your ass. "You'll burn."

"I'm wearing suncream," you purr, knowing that this has nothing to do with keeping your skin safe.

And so Jungkook just shrugs. Considers staying silent. Chooses not to.

"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he almost growls beneath his breath, feigning indifference through his body language. "But I don't."

"You saying you can't help yourself?" You tease, to which he just rolls his eyes and lays back down.

"I can help myself perfectly well," he says, tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek. "Just didn't finish my sentence."

"Oh?" you chirp with great curiosity.

There's a boldness to the way you're engaging in conversation with him. Makes you realise that Jungkook is just the same as any other boy. He can see you as a sexual object, apparently. Just chooses not to. It's all very interesting.

"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he repeats, crossing his arms over his torso, a defensiveness to his posture, even when he's flat on his back. "But I don't want him to."

Though his eyes remain closed, Jungkook can hear you move to sit on your knees.

Your back is to the sleazebag, Jungkook's shirt bunching by your heels. You pull it around and bundle it in your lap, mouth resting open in a slight stare of shock.

Unspoken words beg for him to look at you.

But he doesn't. Keeps his eyes firmly shut. Grins. Just says, "Lie back down, Byeol."

But then you take a second to think, and realise you're no better than that guy who is still staring at you so intensely you're surprised he doesn't burst a blood vessel. Makes you feel bad. Guilty.

So instead you toss Jungkook his shirt back and, as you stand, say, "I've a fear of intimacy, Jungkook. No fear in telling men to fuck off."

He's not surprised by your response. Quite amused by it. Sits up on his elbows. Watches with curiosity as you walk away from him - and then is stunned to see you beeline for the man.

It's the kind of thing he'd see in a movie, background characters slowing to a stop, time ceasing to move except for the leading lady.

And then you're pointing. Accusing. Jungkook's not sure of what - he can't hear you from this far away - but he knows it isn't nice. Watches the blood drain from the man's face. He's ghostly. And then it all returns, red and raw, with such a vengeance he's surprised blood doesn't start leaking from his nose.

When you turn on your heel, Jungkook observes with morbid novelty at the scene unfolding; the intense shame on the man's face and the pure brilliance on yours.

Jungkook doesn't say anything. Just grins. Collapses back down, too. Doesn't tell you to cover up. Knows better.

Doesn't shut up about it for the rest of the day, though.

Relays the story to you as if you weren't there—weren't central to it—with so much animation that you think he might turn into a cartoon on the subway home.

You've declined the offer. Told him it'd be a bit weird seeing Jimin. Wouldn't know how to explain it. Jungkook just says, "Of course, yeah, you're right. Didn't even think of that. My bad."

"Hey, wait a sec! Danbi's home, but do you wanna eat here?" You chance. "We don't have much in, but I can order or we can-"

"My God, I thought you'd never ask," he grins immediately turning on his heel and back towards you. "So hungry I might die."

"You won't."

"I could."

The pair of you bicker as you enter your apartment, Danbi glancing up from the sofa. She looks at you, then looks at Jungkook, and takes a second to place his face. Definitely knows it - and then it clicks.

She considers asking why the fuck your favourite barman is following you in. He's known within the confines of your apartment as the Barman That Smiles (more commonly referred to as BTS boy), Jungkook's name a secret just for you to know. Danbi doesn't realise all of those nights you waste are the bar are wasted on him, nor does she realise he's the reason you snuck off the other night.

What she does wonder, however, is if this is all part of your master-get-revenge-on-Seokjin-plan.

Instead of voicing any of these queries, she settles on, "What are we having for dinner?"

You shrug. "Ask Jungkook. He's paying."

He raises a brow as if to question your assertion—only for him to cough up the bill for the pizza delivery that feeds the three of you through a Deadpool rewatch.

When he leaves, Danbi tells him he has to come back next week for Deadpool 2. You grin as you walk him out.

"She just wants you to pay for more food," you tell and he nods. Says he knows.

But then he calls back over to Danbi, "See you next week."

"She'll play you like a damn fiddle if you let her," you warn just out of her earshot.

"Good," he grins. "We can double date with you and Jimin."

You tell him to fuck off, but also insist that he lets you know when he gets home. The way you care about him is so casual that it feels as if it's been this way for years.

As he heads on home, Jungkook kind of hopes it will be. Hopes it's the kind of friendship that stands the test of time. Worries that he shouldn't take the flirting too far—but then he's distracted by the little fleck of glitter on the top of his hand. His thoughts are lost, a smile unwinding on his lips as he strolls back to his place.

The skies are void of stars tonight, and yet, for the first time in months, Jungkook's eyes are full of them.

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

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clarkes-and-god · 1 year ago

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The Clarke Trailer, Monday morning, 6am:

As the deep winter's sky started to fade into a crisp blue, Tobias dragged his feet through the snow, on the last leg of his journey from the local bar back to the trailer. Reaching the door, he rose his pale hand, shaking from the cold, and knocked the door twice on the thin, frosty glass. He should probably bring a jacket next time, he thought.

Almost immediately, a familiar figure slipped out the master bedroom, flicking the light on and hurrying to unlock the front door. Standing in the doorway, Cherish had a wide smile plastered on her face, her eyes frozen on Tobias like a startled deer, not knowing what to expect from this potential threat. Pulling her in by her ribcage, Tobias felt his wife freeze up, before softening and letting him pull her in as he kissed her cheek.

Her smile crept up to her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Tobias, squeezing him tight. "You're back! I thought you wouldn't come back, you know? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said all that stuff to you, I was being stupid and I swear I'll pay more attention to you now." His cheek pressed against his wife's, Tobias struggled to contain a smile at the apology.

"I know, babe. It's ok though, I've forgiven you and I'm sure you'll be better now. Let's go in now, this shirt is polyester and I'm super cold, and I guess you are too", he replied. Cherish smiled and opened the door, wiping the snow off her bare feet and onto the stained carpet as she lead him to his sofa.

"Look, I didn't mean to hit you, I was just so angry that you weren't listening to me and how I want our household to be. I'm your husband, babe, I just want what's best for you and Tyson, and I can't help you when you're not obeying me like how the Bible tells you to. I love you so much, and I don't want you to go to hell, you understand?" Tobias paused, waiting for a nod from Cherish before continuing. "But yeah, I promise that I'll try to never hit you again, or walk out on you like that."

"I understand, honey. I didn't make it easy for you acting like that, I should've just listened to you and it wouldn't have happened. Anyways, do you want to see Tyson? He normally wakes up about now, and he'll be so happy to see you, he's really missed you."

Babies. Tobias felt his nose wrinkle at the thought. He always had liked the idea of having children, people to tell what to do, and carry on his last name, and look just like him. However, he had decided that babies must be the worst stage of childhood. If Tyson was left alone, he would fuss and yell until Cherish came to dote on him, even if his diaper was clean and he was fed. Tobias had tried to yell at the baby to be quiet, but he wouldn't obey. Tyson would just scream more, scared of the booming noise, frustrating Tobias as he watched his wife rush in to soothe the baby, completely ignoring him. Even when it wasn't demanding attention, it seemed to Tobias that Tyson was the only thing his wife would talk about, down to the dullest details of what the little bastard's nap time was like today.

Today seemed to be no different, as Tobias zoned back into what Cherish was saying. "He can eat solid food now! Do you want to give him his breakfast?" Tobias swallowed, imagining all the smeared baby food and yelling that would result, but ultimately decided to accept. After all, he had to be nice for a day or two, so she would believe the promises.

It was better than Tobias expected -- luckily, Tyson was still sleepy and he liked the yogurt, so there was no yelling. The mess was gross, but Cherish was ready to scoop up the baby and clean him and his chair. What really annoyed Tobias, was that Tyson clearly had a favourite. He was constantly looking for his mom, and giggling at her, wanting her to pick him up. Tobias may as well have been a random babysitter to the kid, and he felt a deep resentment towards Tyson growing inside him. His own child, not listening to him, not showing him the same attention that he showed his mom, and stealing all his wife's time in the process.

a/n: new post style i'm considering for conversational posts, what do u guys think?

#cherish #tobias #tw domestic abuse #long post #fundie sims #quiverfull sims #fundie snark #modest sims #fundie simblr #satire #homeschool sims #tobiascherish

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booasaur · 2 years ago

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Hi idk if you saw but the The Nevers got moved over to Tubi and they are releasing all episodes like over the span of next week "live" lol whatever that means for tubi but they are playing the episodes that never got released!!

Kind of exciting no? Like I know the show is dead but it would be fun to watch that team one last time

What are your thoughts? Oh I also think all the episodes will be available on Roku in the future too like summer.

And another anon:

Boo, did you see that were finally getting new eps for The Nevers?!?!? New episodes will start on Tuesday feb 14 on Tubi but it sounds like they can only be watched when they’re being “streamed live” and if you don’t catch it the first time around you gotta wait until it’s “aired” again?????

What?? I mean. Wait. Lol, okay, so it's returning, yay. So soon? I'm not prepared! And it's gonna air live on a streamer??? Over a week??

Okay, Monday, THIS Monday, the 13th, it'll just start? Where's the buildup...

All right, so Monday, the 13th, it'll air the first five eps, which all already have aired:

12:39 pm ET The Nevers Ep 101 “Pilot” TV-MA

1:48 pm The Nevers Ep 102 “Exposure” TV-MA

2:53 pm The Nevers Ep 103 “Ignition” TV-MA

3:52 pm The Nevers Ep 104 “Undertaking” TV-MA

4:52 pm The Nevers Ep 105 “Hanged” TV-MA

Then on Tuesday, the 14th, great timing for this show with no promo:

1:28 pm ET The Nevers Ep 106 “True” TV-MA

2:38 pm The Nevers Ep 107 “It’s a Good Day” TV-MA

3:46 pm The Nevers Ep 108 “I Don’t Know Enough About You” TV-MA

4:47 pm The Nevers Ep 109 “Fever” TV-MA

Ep 6 also already having aired so the new eps really start at 2:38pm on Tuesday.

And then on Wednesday, the 15th, rounding off the last eps:

2:40 pm The Nevers Ep 110 “Alright, Okay, You Win” TV-MA

3:45 pm The Nevers Ep 111 “Ain’t We Got Fun” TV-MA

4:50 pm The Nevers Ep 112 “I’ll Be Seeing You” TV-MA

And if you don't catch it during these times, in the middle of the day, you'll have to wait until the next live airing? I mean... I have work. I hope someone rips them.

But no, I am grateful that they're airing at all, considering. Plus, I guess I shouldn't be too negative about Tubi, they're also putting up Genera+ion and Raised by Wolves and other stuff, better to have some home at all than lose the results of all this effort.

Oh, and thanks for letting me know, anons! I guess I gotta get ready for Pen and True!

#replies #femslash related stuff #even if only ever subtext #sent on 20230210 #Anonymous #5 #the nevers #the nevers spoilers #the titles are probably helpful to people smarter than me

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 2 years ago

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Midoriya-sensei AU

Part 8: Monday

Part 7 | Ao3 | Part 9

Excluding Todoroki, the other teachers thought Izuku was a try-hard.

They were right, of course. Izuku wasn't ignorant—he knew he was a try-hard. Maybe it was because he wanted people to like him; maybe it was because he wanted to prove himself; maybe it was the result of being forced into silence his entire childhood. The reason didn't matter. At twenty five years old, Izuku was a try-hard, but regardless of what his co-workers thought, he persisted.

He rocked on his feet, hands clasped in front of him, as he waited for his students to arrive.

He'd set up the "Greeting Board" shortly after starting at Musutafu Shōgakkō. The others—sans Todoroki and the Head—had told Izuku not to bother; it was a waste of time. He remembered smiling politely and pointedly ignoring them.

The concept was simple: the board was split into six sections, containing a number and a drawing, and when a student tapped one of them, he greeted them accordingly. The number one accompanied a picture of two people bowing to each other, number two signalled a high five, three was a fist bump, four was a little dance, five was a hug—demonstrated by a picture of six year old Izuku hugging a giant All Might plushie—and number six was a comment.

Izuku smiled as his first student skipped towards him.

'Hi, sensei!' Nagisa chirped, tapping the number four, before flapping her arms and twirling.

'Hello to you too!' Izuku mirrored her moves with a laugh. 'Your dancing is getting better every day.'

She giggled as she entered the class, while Touta speed-walked towards him at an alarming rate. After he firmly tapped "1", the two of them bowed.

'Good morning, sensei!' Touta straightened up and adjusted his glasses, then followed Nagisa inside. Now that Shoto had pointed it out, he really did have a likeness to Ingenium… How hadn't he noticed sooner?

As the rest of his students filtered in, Izuku found that dancing and comments were the most popular—as was usual for Monday mornings. Distantly, he wished he had as much energy as they did.

A few more minutes passed, and just before the first bell chimed, his final pupil arrived.

'Hi, sensei!' Hiru panted, examining the board for a moment, before pressing the number six and looking up at Izuku expectantly.

Hiru was best friends with Nozomi, and was one of the three heteromorphs in his class. His quirk was called "Hedgehog", so while most of his body resembled a regular—if not hairy—human, his head was covered in fur, accentuating his pointy nose, beady eyes and rounded ears that were similar to the small mammal. His uniform also had to be custom-made to accommodate the plethora of spines on his back.

Izuku thought he looked super cool, but knew from experience the sentiment was not shared by his student.

'Hi, Hiru-chan.' He smiled warmly, noting how skittish he looked and how rumpled his clothes were. 'You're energetic this morning! Too much sugar over the weekend?'

'Nope, just eager to get to class!' He laughed nervously, whilst looking over his shoulder.

'Hey.' Izuku crouched down to be at eye-level, which gained Hiru's attention. 'You can talk to me if something's bothering you. We're HQA buddies, remember?'

HQA stood for the "Heteromorph and Quirkless Alliance", which was formed as the original safe space for people whose discrimination was a result of quirk-focused society. They still had a long way to go with acceptance, but the alliance was internationally recognised, as well as part of the reason why their rights were protected and enforced by law. Most high schools had a HQA extracurricular club, but Izuku had been the first to set one up in a Japanese primary school—after pestering the Head until he finally signed off on it—so he could support his students and assure them they always had someone to talk to.

Izuku was a try-hard, sue him.

'We are.' Hiru said slowly. 'But I don't think you'll be able to help this time, sensei…'

'What makes you think that?' He tilted his head to the side, patient.

‘Because if I tell, it’ll only get worse, because they’ll know I told.’ Hiru rubbed his arm, looking at the ground. ‘And I don’t want to get people in trouble.’

Izuku pulled his lips into a thin line. He knew this behaviour and mindset well; the closed off posture, the averting eye contact, the lack of trust in the school to solve a problem, not wanting to incriminate anyone. He'd been the same growing up, and despite his best efforts, it was now happening to his student.

'Hiru-chan, I want you to know that I will always have your best interests at heart.' He smiled softly. It was difficult territory, especially with the school's policy around safeguarding; depending on what Hiru did disclose, this could escalate. 'You can talk to me, and if something is wrong, the only people I would tell would be those who can help the situation. Okay?'

His student fidgeted, unsure, and held his chin in his hand, while his pointed nose twitched in thought. However, when the bell chimed, he jumped and looked up at Izuku, hesitant.

'Can I think about it, please?'

Izuku regarded him—expression never wavering—then nodded.

'Of course.' He slowly got to his feet and gestured for them to enter the classroom. He knew better than to force the issue. 'I'm here when you need me.'

Hiru bowed, then crossed to the middle of the class, where he took his seat next to Nozomi. Izuku sighed, smile faltering slightly, before he shut the door and walked over to his own desk, facing his students.

At the start of the year, the classroom had looked clinical, the only decoration being the kanji and maths cut-outs scattered around the walls, along with the All Might poster he had pinned up at the back of the room. Even after just one term though, everything was significantly brighter: blank display boards had been filled with creative work, personalised workbooks were neatly organised on shelves, and several drawings now surrounded All Might.

Some teachers called them distractions. Izuku thought they were miserable fucks in the wrong profession, much to Todoroki's amusement.

'Okay, Mighty Minions!' He clapped his hands twice, and the class fell silent. 'I hope you all had a great weekend. I'm going to quickly do the register, then we can head down to the assembly hall.'

Izuku called out each name with no issues—only one explained absence—and soon, he was leading his students to the main hall. Luckily, they weren't the last class to arrive, and after his kids were seated, he stepped over to the side of the hall, next to Todoroki.

'Hey.'

'Morning, Midoriya-kun.' She smiled, eyes crinkled; it was that rare time of the day when her glasses weren't smudged in some way. 'How was your weekend?'

'Good, thanks.' He pointedly looked away as he felt his ears redden. Despite the nonchalant way she'd asked the question, Izuku knew for a fact that she was privy to what happened yesterday. 'I was going to text you, I promise, but I needed to recharge after everything.'

'Mhm.' Todoroki crossed her arms and leant forwards into his field of vision with pursed lips, which were upturned with amusement. 'So, when am I going to get all the juicy details? Shoto's given me nothing, and it's driving me bonkers! It's like you're his little secret—it's like the boy has forgotten that you're my best friend, damn it!'

Izuku's mouth pulled into a gentle smile, filled with affection.

'We're best friends?' He searched her eyes, and when she shot him an unimpressed look, he fumbled. 'L-Like, it's obvious that you're my best friend, but I figured you had tons of others to choose from.'

'Honey, we've got to work on your self-esteem.' She patted him on the shoulder, both of them watching the last class enter. 'Of course you're my bestie, and I wouldn't have it any other way… even though you dodged my original question.'

Izuku's eyes shone with emotion—he quickly blinked them away—before releasing a wet chuckle, which was thankfully swallowed by the idle chatter of the rest of the room.

'Okay, bestie.' He nudged her playfully. 'How about we head to the gym after school, and I'll tell you everything that happened?'

'Ugh, you're insufferable.' Todoroki rolled her eyes, just as the Head cleared his throat and called for everyone's attention. As the hall fell silent, however, she tilted her head towards him and whispered, 'Fine, but I'll need to go home and change first. Didn't think I'd need my PE kit today, for some reason.'

'You fool.' Izuku teased, then crossed his arms and leant against the wall, turning his attention to the Head.

The assembly was nothing special; mostly formalities and reminders about Sports Day, which was coming up soon, along with a brief lecture about leaving the getabako clean and tidy. However, the final topic did gather Izuku's attention.

'As you all know, we had a very important visitor last week: number two hero, Shoto.' The Head flashed his first smile of the day, while his ant-like antenna rubbed together. His quirk allowed him to use their vibrations to detect the quietest of sounds. It was useful for determining who was paying attention, amongst other things, but Izuku didn't like to think about what kinds of unorthodox conversations he'd likely heard through the years. 'Let's take a moment to thank Todoroki-sensei for making that possible.'

The room clapped on cue, but with more enthusiasm than usual. Todoroki flushed at the attention and bowed.

Once the noise died down, the Head continued. 'Now, before Shoto-san left, we had a little chat, and I want you all to know that he was very impressed with every single one of you. You were respectful and eager to learn, and he's sure many of you will make amazing heroes one day, so you should all be very proud of yourselves.'

Automatically, Izuku's eyes sought out Nozomi, who was practically beaming. The sight resonated something within him, and his own smile played at his lips.

Shortly after, the assembly came to an end, and Izuku bid Todoroki farewell, before escorting their students back to homeroom. Once they were settled, they began the first lesson of the day: Basic Japanese. To start with, he used the chalk board to take them through sentence structure and placement of nouns, then wrote up an example for his kids to figure out themselves. Once they seemed confident, Izuku decided it was time to start the individual activity, but was interrupted by Hana raising her hand.

'Sensei?' Her eyes were wide and she was smiling—her look told him that she wasn't excited about the Japanese. 'Is it true you're friends with hero Shoto now?'

Izuku swallowed heavily and cleared his throat to deter from the quickly rising blush on his face.

'Hana-chan, that's not an appropriate question to ask.' He lightly chastised, trying to ignore how much more interested his class suddenly appeared.

'Sorry, sensei.' Hana, to her credit, looked a little apologetic, but it didn't stop her adding, 'It's just that my nii-san saw you two talking outside Shoto-san's agency yesterday, so I was wondering.'

Immediately, the class was in uproar—shooting questions and exclamations—far too quick for Izuku to comprehend, and he froze. Usually, he could handle their rowdiness, but this was unexpected, and the volume was overwhelming. Luckily, he'd trained to be able to persist in these situations.

'Alright, that's enough.' He raised his hands and clapped twice, loudly. 'Five, four, three, two, one!'

There were a few murmurs, but mostly the class quietened down—albeit they still looked excited. Izuku sighed as he watched them, even though they were settled, he could tell their concentration would be harder to repair. That being said, an idea suddenly emerged in his head; one that could turn out inordinately effective.

'Okay, I understand you're all excited, but there was no need for that.' He scanned the room, emphasising his point with a disappointed frown, before relaxing back into his usual expression. 'As a one time thing, however, I will answer your question, Hana-chan, but only if you all promise not to go crazy again.'

He waited for them to nod, before cutting the suspense. 'I did hang out with Shoto-san yesterday. We are friends.'

There were audible gasps throughout the class—several students even shook their desk buddy with excitement—but otherwise, they kept their promise. In all honesty, Izuku was surprised; he was proud of their restraint.

'That's so cool!' Daisuki whispered from his seat just in front of Izuku. His eyes were squeezed shut as he clenched his fists with passion, reminiscent of Red Riot.

'It is very cool, yeah.' Izuku smiled, doing well not to get carried away himself. 'So! I have an activity for you all. Using what we've learnt today about sentence structure and the placement of different kanji, I want you all to write a letter to Shoto-san about what you want to be when you grow up and why. Any questions?'

Haku's hand shot up, eyes wide.

'Is Shoto-san going to read our letters?'

Izuku's mind immediately pictured Shoto in his office, going through each one as he sipped his tea—a cute furrow in his brow as he read—before shaking himself.

'Maybe.' He shrugged, smiling. 'Depends on how well you write them. Heroes are very busy, after all. He would only have time to read the ones with perfect grammar.'

When there were no more questions, Izuku grabbed some lined paper and handed them out to his eagerly awaiting students, along with an array of stationary. Once everything was set up, the class got to work, surprisingly quiet. Occasionally, someone would raise their hand to ask whether a certain sentence was correct, and Izuku was always happy to walk them through it.

'Five minutes left.' He called, as their first period almost came to an end. 'Time to add finishing touches, and if you're already done, read through your work to see if you're happy with everything.'

By the time they moved on to second period—maths—Izuku had a pile of letters on his desk, and a room full of happy students.

Even Hiru seemed affable when he approached Izuku before lunch, resolute and determined.

'I've decided I want to talk about what happened, if that's still okay?'

Izuku smiled encouragingly.

'Of course.'

#Midoriya-sensei AU #midoriya izuku #todoroki fuyumi #platonic fuyumizu #tododeku #izushou #teacher au #quirkless midoriya izuku #quirkless discrimination #teacher todoroki fuyumi #teacher midoriya izuku #todoroki shoto #original child characters

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observeowl · 1 year ago

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Right By Your Side | Chapter 13 - Valentine's Day

Summary: In the world where wearing glasses makes you a different person. You were forced to swallow a pill that turned you into seven years old. Now, you're living with your crush in a small form, what would you do? Who were the ones who brought this to you? And, can you change back?

Chapter summary: Nat brought you to make chocolates with her

Series Masterlist

"Allie! Are you free today?" It was the weekend so you had nothing to do. Amy, George and Mitch went to have fun with their families for the weekend to celebrate the festival that was associated with red and pink. God blessed their family that was whole.

"Yes. I'm free." You replied to Nat as you turned your chair to face her. You were just wasting time watching YouTube on your laptop until Monday comes and school starts again. You were being the kid you never were able to be when you were younger, leaving your homework aside and rushing to your laptop once you were home. But at least your results were good, you kept telling yourself that.

"Get dressed. I'm taking you out today." Nat said quickly before closing the door again. You shrugged your shoulders not knowing why Nat just asked you out. What was she going to do with you on Valentine's day? Even throughout the years with Nat, you've never seen her celebrating this day before.

Nevertheless, you went to change and met Nat in the living room. Without saying anything, she nodded her head towards the garage and you followed along. It was really weird to be brought around without any knowledge but when it boiled down to Nat, you can't say no.

"Where are we going?" You finally asked when you were in her car for a few moments.

"You'll see." She refused to say anything with a smirk.

Sighing, you got comfortable in your seat until Nat told you that you've reached the destination. You knew from the time spent in the car that you didn't go too far, looking out of the window, your suspicions were confirmed as you were still in the shopping district where all sorts of Valentine's Day sales could be seen plastered along the window, displaying respective goods that the shops were selling.

As you walked down the street with Nat's hands in yours, sales person was trying to pass you their brochures in an attempt to boost their sales. There were plenty of people holding roses patiently yet anxiously waiting for their partner to arrive or buying their last minute purchase that they had forgotten.

"Wanda, you can stop hiding around." Nat's voice caught your attention and you looked at her before turning behind to see Wanda appearing behind a light pole. She chuckled nervously as she walked towards us and gave me a small wave.

"So? You're actually going there?" Wanda bumped Nat's shoulder with hers and wiggled her eyebrows.

"I just thought I'll let Allie experience it."

"Yeah yeah, whatever makes you sleep at night."

You looked between the two women, not knowing what they were talking about. Three of you continued making your way there. It was just a short walk but due to the crowd, it was very hard to walk through the sea of people. From an outside perspective, it looked like the three of you were a family as you were walking in between Wanda and Nat.

Standing outside the building, it looked like an ordinary brick building which was quite out of place here. There were significantly fewer people standing outside the door as there were no displays of any kind, no promotions or anything. You couldn't even see what was inside. Double checking that she got the right place, Nat pushed open the door and there were already a few people there talking, mostly ladies.

"You must be Miss Natalie Rushman." An old looking lady spoke.

"That's right. This is Allison and Wendy." Giving Wanda a fake name was as easy as she breathed.

"Nice to meet you ladies. I am Mrs White, the owner of this building. Since everyone is here, let's get started shall we?" She showed us around and to our stations before giving each of us an apron and you took it skeptically. Was Nat going to cook?

"We are going to make Valentine's Day chocolate. You can either give it to your crush, friend or have it for yourself." Everyone cheered before the owner continued again. "Making the chocolate would be easy, but I bet everyone would be excited for the decorating."

The ingredients needed were already measured out and placed on the table. Using the stool provided for you, you stepped on it and followed the steps as best you could. Of course, Wanda was really proficient in this while you and Nat needed some help from the owner and her. Once she was done mixing everything and placed hers in the fridge, she came round to yours to help you.

"You are doing way better than Miss Rushman over there." She teased.

"Just you wait Wendy. I'll destroy your chocolate before you can even see it."

---

Overall, it was really light hearted, Wanda and Nat were teasing and joking around that others started participating as well. There was a period of time where we had moments to spare as we needed to wait for the chocolate to set and harden before we could decorate.

"There are a few ice piping in front of you for you to choose from. For whatever reason if you don't have enough, you can always come and find me to get more." The ladies squealed and started decorating it the way they have been discussing during the break earlier.

Your mind was blank as you stared at the chocolate in front of you. There was only a certain amount of time you had to decorate before it started melting again but you had no idea what to put on it.

You looked around and everyone had a smile on their faces as they transferred their idea to the chocolate. Maybe you should just leave it plain and eat it for yourself. You took a peek at Wanda and she was decorating it with ease. Leaning towards her to steal a glance, she shifted away when she saw you coming closer. You gave her a look but said nothing, who would have thought she had a crush, no wonder she was attending this as well.

Looking at Nat this time, she was also decorating, not as good as Wanda but at least she had some colour on the chocolate already.

In the end, you decided to put a simple note on the chocolate, not really wanting it to be empty.

The owner gave us each a box and a piece of dry ice so the chocolate won't melt before we get home. Each time when there was an opportunity, Nat would try to sneak a peak at Wanda's but she would cover it up and quickly wrapped it up with her magic without letting anyone see. Everyone was happily taking photos of their finished products and posting them on their social media.

"Are you done wrapping, Allie?" Nat asked kindly. You nodded your head and passed it to her. "You want me to hold it for you?" You shook your head but continued holding the wrapped chocolate in front of her.

"I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me." You said shyly as you were looking at the ground, too shy to look at her.

"Thank you. I appreciate it a lot." She placed a finger under your chin and kissed your forehead causing you to blush furiously. Others might be seeing a tomato walking around.

"What about you, Nat? Who are you giving it to?" Wanda asked, knowing you would want to know the answer too.

"I don't know... I think I'm just gonna have to have it for myself." She shrugged her shoulders before we waved goodbye to the owner and headed back to the compound.

"What should we do when we head back?" Wanda asked excitedly from the passenger seat.

"I don't know, watch some random movie and head to bed. This little one still has school tomorrow." Nat said and you groaned at the back seat.

---

Somehow, all of us fell asleep on the couch in the living room. It was surprising that none of the boys woke us up but maybe because Tony was not in the compound with Pepper, because let's be real, he's the only one who would make too much of a fuss and wake us up with the only exception of Thor. He's just naturally loud.

I sneaked away and stood at the entrance of the compound and took out my phone to call Nat. Using the new gadget that Bill gave me, I was able to change my voice to any person I liked.

"See the dials over here? Just turn it until the correct number and you have the voices." Bill explained it to me. "There's all sorts of voices you can imagine there. There's even your voice in it." He said excitedly.

"That's nice, but why is it in the shape of a bowtie?" You questioned.

"I couldn't think of anything else to hide it in."

"This is nice. I'm sure it's going to come in handy. Thank you, Bill."

"Number eleven..." You mumbled as you tuned the dial to your voice. Pressing Nat's number on your phone, you cleared your throat as you waited for Nat to pick up. Your heart was beating on your chest as you waited nervously.

Nat

Hello?

Hey Nat... It's me. I went back earlier but you were sleeping so I decided not to disturb you...

Y/N! Why?

You need your sleep. It's not everyday you get a chance to rest.

Where have you been? Are you going to be done with your mission anytime soon?

No... I'm getting tied up. It's probably going to take a long while. Sorry.

I miss you... a lot. Everyone's missing you too.

I'm sorry. At least you have my phone number now. I don't know where my previous one went.

You heard Natasha pull away from her phone to check the caller ID on her screen.

You're giving me your number?

Just a head's up, you're going to get voicemail quite often. I'm rather busy. But let's not talk about this. I saw a peach shaped chocolate on the table and I got tired waiting so I took the liberty to eat it.

Hey! It's not a peach shape... If you were here so long, you should have woken me up!

Despite its shape, it's really tasty.

Where did you get it from?

I'm not going to tell you. It's my secret.

Okay okay, I conceded. I heard from Bill that you're taking care of the kid name... Allison?

That's right, she reminds me of you a lot.

That day, it was a long night talking through the phone as you continued to take bites of the chocolate until your phone ran out of battery. You missed being able to talk to her as yourself and hated seeing her being sad that you weren't there.

Series Masterlist

#natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #black widow 2021 #mcu #Right By Your SIde #my writing

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comfortlesshurt · 26 days ago

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November 2024 Plans - Special Edition

New month! As always, still all Voltron, still Keith-focused!

Plans are light this month because I'm writing 50k even if I'm not technically participating in NaNoWriMo, so I really don't have the capacity to commit to other goals that will require my active effort. Hopefully, in exchange for you all getting nothing this month, you'll start getting a whole polished chapter fic in February.

General goals:

Additional words drafted for ILaD: 46,125/50,000

Have VLD WC surpass Spider-Man: 63,314/100,258

All-time AO3 word count: 189,500/200,000

Uncontrollable for funsies AO3 goal: 300 overall comment threads

Okay, "do what I want" month went so well that I'm adjusting my schedule going forward. But it wasn't super helpful taking the entire month off. Honestly, the first week or so handled all the burnout. I think if I take a break more often, it won't get to the point of needing a whole week off, though. Instead of waiting until I burn out again, every Monday is now "do what I want" day. Can be writing the same 3 fics as usual, can be writing one shots, can be dipping out completely to go ice skating. Every Monday is mine now.

Of course, I'm saying this in my one exception month because even if I refuse to officially do NaNo, I'll still be writing 50k this month toward my big project. So no days off this month, BUT also no normal daily par for these fics. I'll just be doing the daily par to hit 50k written in November, and I'm allowed to distribute those words across any combination of fics in the ILaD series. Word count toward other projects outside of this series does NOT count this year.

ILaD:

Yes, I nailed down a final title for the series and all the main fics. Perks of taking a month off, very exciting stuff! All the fics below are eligible for counting toward NotNaNo word count, and in the theoretical universe where I add yet another side story in this universe, that also counts.

Starting stats:

(With the very slight risk that I draft a little more tonight...)

All in, it comes out just under 135k written as of the end of October. Any fic on this list is fair game to count toward overall word count during NotNaNo, but...

Main goals:

Get fic 1 to 100k

Get fic 2 to 50k

Longer term:

Will depend on NotNaNo results, but this is the optimistic timeline!

November 2024: rough draft focus for ILaD

December 2024: final rough draft for ILaD fic 1 & ALL events are outlined for fic 2 and 3

January 2025: major continuity edit for ILaD, drafting fic 2 and 3

February 2025: technical edit for ILaD and begin publishing

March 2025: continue rough draft for fic 2 and 3

April 2025: final rough draft due for fic 2

As of right now, based on my average rate, all drafting for the entire series will be done by the end of July 2025, but that's making the big assumption that I can continue drafting 40k to 60k every single month, not including any short-term projects outside of this.

#month goals #fellas it is finally getting SO CLOSE #this is the longest thing i've ever worked on by FAR #also different project completely but uhhhh #talking about mayyyyybe doing a klance collab with someone down the line #we'll see!#also i got myself grubhub as a pre-nano treat and please tell me why my delivery driver just drove through a river with no bridge nearby #also he's fully going 70 in a 25 right now.....

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hotchshands · 2 months ago

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Chapter 1 | First Day of Class

Masterlist | Taglist | Other Chapters

Summary: The first day of class is upon you and first up is Professor Hotchner's lecture, Intro to Profiling. You've been anxiously waiting for this day to arrive, having picked out your outfit and prepared yourself for his lecture weeks in advance.

Word Count: 2.3k

Contains: professor!hotch x student!reader

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of Teacher’s Pet, a Professor!Hotch AU (Yes, I changed the title for the second time). Oh, and imagine readers wearing the outfit above. Last thing to keep in mind, the university is totally made up, but the mechanics are modeled after my uni.

The start of the new semester rolled around quickly, signaling the end of summer and the start of yet another academic year. You weren’t looking forward to the start of the semester until you reviewed your course schedule and saw his name, Aaron Hotchner. The name alone brought back memories of why you registered for the class in the first place.

Fall registration rolled around sometime in March. You had put it off for a while, but you needed to sign up for a university lecture, as your school required every student to take two before graduation. Luckily you were able to take one relevant to your major, so all you needed was one more.

As you scrolled through the course catalog, you were doomed to be unlucky. Everything was completely out of your field of study, and none were remotely interesting, though there was one that sounded like it could be. Intro to Profiling? Hmm.

You click on the course to read more. As you read the course description, the class seemed to be more and more like something you should register for. The lecture meets on Mondays and has discussion sections on Wednesdays at 10 am. The course would be taught by Aaron Hotchner and some TAs would lead the discussion sections.

Aaron Hotchner? Because you weren’t a criminology major, you’d never heard the name before, so you decided to do some research. You did this every semester: Look up the professors and see if there were any major red flags before signing up for their courses. As you Googled Aaron Hotchner, all you saw were articles upon articles about his achievements at the Behavioral Analysis Unit or BAU. Most are about the cases he has worked on, and others about his leadership as the Unit Chief of the BAU.

Clearly, the man was well-educated in the field of profiling, not that it really mattered to you. Now for the ultimate final test: RateMyProfessor. You go on the site and type in his name. Thankfully, several results popped up. Most were from Georgetown University in DC, but a few were from your small private school.

The reviews varied, but they all had one commonality: the man was strict. “Insanely strict,” one reviewer put it. That same reviewer went on to complain that he "failed them." You started to become hesitate. As you continued scrolling through the reviews, more and more said things like “Don't take his class” and “He refuses to give A’s.”

As a person who craved academic validation in the form of a 4.0 GPA, straight As, and high praise from your professors, your brain was screaming RUN. However, a small voice in the back of your head told you to continue your research, so you did.

You read through some of the more nicer reviews. “He's strict as hell, but put in the effort, and you'll get a B.” another reviewer said. Another wrote, “Forced to take this horrible class, but my God, does the professor put the hot in Hotchner!” Your eyes widen at that. Secretly, you always wanted to witness the hot professor trope in action; maybe this was your chance.

You go back to Google and look for images of the man. Since he had been in the press quite a bit, it wasn't hard to find several photos of him in action. Some of the photos were from press conferences, others were taken from the scene. You study each picture you come across like it was a painting. You take in the lines on his face, the browns of his eyes and hair, and the mole on the right of his nose. Right then, your mind was made up; you were taking his class.

As you were preparing for the start of the fall semester, you huffed at all the clothes in your closet—or, according to you, the lack thereof. Hours later, you decide on a more preppy look. You choose a pale blue button-up, a plaid skirt, and a navy blue blazer for your outfit on Monday. The look felt like a cliche, the teacher's pet kind of cliche, but you wanted to impress Professor Hotchner, so you pushed the doubts aside.

The weekend could not have gone by any slower. By the time Monday came, you were antsy. You woke up later than you would have liked, at 8:30, giving you less than an hour to get ready if you wanted to be early for class. One thing you did not want to do was show up late on the first day, especially to Professor Hotchner's lecture. Another commonality those RateMyProfessor reviews had was that Professor Hotchner hated lateness.

You rushed out of bed, brewed yourself a cup of coffee, and got dressed. By the time you were dressed and ready to go, it was nine o'clock. Crap! You didn't have time to make breakfast, so you left the house, stopped in your favorite local cafe, and grabbed a quick bite and another cup of coffee. You were by no means a morning person, so caffeine was a must for a 10 am class, especially one you feared would kick your ass. He had better be worth it, you thought, as you made your way to the classroom listed on your schedule.

The campus was quiet in the mornings, so thankfully, you didn't have to deal with crowds of students. You searched the halls of classrooms before coming across room 213. The door was closed, making you think you were late, but when you glanced at your watch, it was 9:46. You sighed and slowly opened the door into the classroom. Your heart was pounding as you entered the room, which was empty except for one man. You gulp as you look around.

“You're early,” a deep voice spoke.

You look at the man standing in front of the class. He was facing the chalkboard, so you couldn't see his face, but you knew who he was. After he finished writing on the board, he turned around and faced you. “Well, I didn't want to be late on the first day, so...” your voice trailed off as you took in the man now facing you. He looks down at a sheet of paper on the desk in front of him. “What's your name?” he asks while looking at the sheet of paper.

“Y/N,” you answer.

“Y/N, Y/N... Ah, found you,” he mutters, assumely marking you present for class. The sound of your name falling from his tongue mesmerized you. His voice was deep and commanding, and you didn't know if it turned you on or terrified you. He looks up at you again, taking in your frozen state. “Well, uh, find a seat. We'll start at exactly ten o'clock,” he said, returning to work.

You walk toward the middle of the classroom, not wanting to sit in the front or back. Once you sit down, you take out your note-taking materials and wait as students begin to fill the empty seats.

As soon as the clock struck 10, Professor Hotchner began class.

“As many of you already know, the next fifteen weeks will be your introduction to the study of profiling. I will be your instructor on Mondays for the lecture portion of the class. On Wednesdays, my TAs will lead you in discussion. We'll get to introductions in a moment,” Professor Hotchner pauses, picking up a thick stack of papers before handing them off to one of the TAs, who begins distributing the papers to the students.

“The syllabus for the semester is going around. I expect you all to keep up with this, and should any of this change, I will let you know via email. Now, does everyone have a syllabus?” the professor scans the room before continuing. “Good. Let’s get started. My name is Aaron Hotchner. I’ve been a profiler for almost twenty years now and am the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit over at Quanco. My TAs are my colleagues who help me profile all sorts of cases from kidnapping to serial crime.”

Professor Hotchner goes on to talk about his work at the FBI. You dazed off into space shortly after. Rather than pay attention to what was being said, you paid attention to who was speaking. That one review was right. He was hot and completely your type—no one would ever know this because you knew admitting to liking older men would elicit judgemental looks of disgust. Although you were well aware of your preference, you couldn't help but feel like it was a fucked-up fantasy that would never come true. Regardless, it couldn't hurt to dream a little.

“I will expect a level of professionalism from you all and will require your undivided attention during class. If I catch you glancing at your phone, that will be the last time you will have it out during class. You may get away with stuff like that in your other classes, but not in this one. Do I make myself clear?” He pauses, remaining authoritative. The class nods as if this was the moment in the horror movie when the victims knew they were going to die.

“I also expect you to arrive to class on time as we start promptly at ten and end at eleven thirty. If you are late, you will receive dedications in your final grade. Attendance accounts for twenty percent. Remember that,” Professor Hotchner scanned the room, ensuring everyone understood his expectations. His eyes stopped toward the middle of the classroom where you were sitting before turning his gaze to the desk before him.

Man, he sure has high expectations. Do people really fail for being late? I was never one for lateness, but sometimes it's inevitable. I looked around the classroom. Everyone looked terrified, as if they were going to pee their pants. One or two students looked up to the challenge, eager to learn from him—makes sense considering he's the best profiler out there.

Professor Hotchner's firm voice continues, “For your midterm, you will present a profile. For your final, you will write a ten-page essay, which we will discuss in further detail later in the semester. Just note that if you pay attention in class, study hard, and take notes, you'll pass. You may not pass with an A, but I'll admit this class isn't an easy one, so simply passing is quite that accomplishment.” His eyes once again seem to gravitate toward you, and this time, they linger.

“I can already tell whose going to pass and who isn't, but I hope I'm wrong, and you'll all pass. So, prove me wrong,” Professor Hotchner chuckles as he prepares to go over the syllabus.

“How?” you ask before you even realize it. Once you realized you spoke, your eyes widened, and there you were, a deer in the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall.

A hint of a smirk appears on Professor Hotchner's face. You were eager to learn, and he liked that. “Body language reveals so much. I can learn a lot about someone just by observing them,” he spoke professionally.

You ponder his words before speaking, “So you can profile us based on our body language?”

Professor Hotchner's smirk fades and his expression becomes more serious. “No, not exactly,” he answers, his tone firm and serious. “Profiling is about using observations and knowledge to get a sense of a person's behavior. Body language is part of it, but a lot more work goes into it.”

You nod and go back to remaining silent.

Professor Hotchner finishes the class by going over the syllabus in great detail and answering questions, ��Alright, that's it for today. I will see you all next week.” Students quickly begin leaving the lecture hall, and the TAs follow, leaving you and the professor alone in the big, empty classroom.

“I appreciate your questions in class today. I hope you'll continue asking questions throughout the semester. Don't be too intimidated by the content. I know it's a lot, but I can tell you're one of the brighter students in the class,” Professor Hotchner said as you exited the row you were sitting in.

You smiled at that. It was nice to hear a professor praise you for once. “Thanks, I didn't mean to interrupt you or anything—” you began before he cut you off.

“Nonsense. You didn't interrupt me.”

You pause at that. For someone so strict, you seemed nice, almost welcoming. “Well, uh, thanks away. I'll see you next week,” you said, turning to exit the room.

“Wait! I uh couldn't help but notice you don't seem like a criminology major, so why take this class?” the professor ejects, looking you over.

You face him, surprised that he knew without actually knowing you. “How did you figure that out?” you said.

He chuckles, looking down at his shoes. “Well, you're dressed like a schoolgirl. Your demeanor is curious yet kind, and you looked at me the entire class rather than at the syllabus or your classmates. Criminology students tend to be professional and overly confident and see their peers as competition. They show up to class right on time, not early, dressed like they already work at the FBI, and pay most attention to those around them.”

You were stunned. How did he observe all this in only 90 minutes? Was he really paying attention to you?

“So what's your major?” Professor Hotchner repeats his earlier question.

“Literature,” you answer.

He smirks, “That makes sense. It suits you. Hopefully, you'll find my class just as suitable.”

You smile, “I hope so, too. Goodbye, Professor.” You exit the class, taking one look back at him before closing the door behind you. He is going to be the death of me, you thought as you walked down the hall, anxious for it to be Monday again.

Taglist: @zaddyhotch @none-of-your-bullshit @snapessecretdiary @uselessnewt @presidentdangdang @lalaehlaa @de-duchess @targaryenswhxre @chicagotrio101 @barbeddreams @adrienneleclerc

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #professor!au #professor!hotch #professor x student #professor!hotch x student!reader #student!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x y/n

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watermelonlovershigh · 2 months ago

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A Trip to the ER {part. 16} (housemate!harry series)

Aftercare {part. 15} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: this took me so long to write. one because i didn't even know what to write for this chapter for a while until one day this idea came to me and i thought it would be a perfect filler chapter between all the smutty chapters. i hope you enjoy. make sure to leave your feedback and feel free to send in your ideas.

This story contains: mentions of sex (sexual acts), crying, distress, comfort, vulnerability, mentions of vomit, mild angst, fluff

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 3,118

You accidently fall in the shower and end up breaking your foot, which results in Harry having to leave work early and come home to help you get ready for a trip to the ER.

This was not how you envisioned your week going. It was supposed to be the week you went on a date with Harry and he makes you wear those vibrating panties you purchased on Amazon. Teasing and edging you all night until you get home where he can fuck you senseless. But that all changed when you had an accident that landed you in the emergency room.

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

It's Monday morning, and you ultimately decided to leave the comfort of your bed. Harry left for work roughly an hour earlier, and you needed to get up to start the work you do from your laptop. However, after the activities you and Harry did the night before, the idea of a shower was quite inviting first and foremost.

While your shower was heating up, you stand at the sink and brush your teeth. Once your mouth is feeling and smelling fresh, you hop in the shower and begin your normal shower routine. Everything's going smoothly until your foot slips on a glob of shampoo you dropped a minute prior, causing your whole body to fall down.

Immediately, you feel a sharp pain radiating from your ankle to your toes on your right foot. Tears well up in your eyes as you attempt to stand, only to realize that's impossible for you to do. You can't put any weight on your foot. Great, you've likely fractured your foot, and in the shower, no less. How embarrassing.

Sitting on the shower floor, you're overwhelmed with pain and tears, praying that the next seven hours will not stretch on until Harry returns. As you look to your left, just outside the shower curtain, you notice your phone lying on the closed toilet seat. A sense of gratitude fills you. Your phone is conveniently within reach. Once you turn off the shower, you gather your strength to stretch your arm out and grasp your phone.

With wet hands and tear stricken cheeks, you dial Harry's number. You truly hate to bother him at work but this is sort of an emergency. It rings approximately three times before you hear a quiet, "Hello." You're sure if he wasn't in class he would have said 'hello baby', but opted not to say that in front of his students.

"Harry," you cry helplessly over the phone, "I..... I'm sorry.... to bother..... you. But, but, I fell.....in the shower and, and my foot. I think it's broke. It hurts so bad." As soon as Harry hears the real distress in your voice, he steps out in the hallway to have more privacy.

"Baby, slow down f'me. You fell in the shower?"

You nod but realize he can't see you, so you mutter in a weak voice, "Yeah."

With his phone to his ear, Harry reassures you in the most calming voice he can muster in this moment of internal panic for your wellbeing, "S' gonna be okay, baby. Gimme twenty minutes and I'll be home. Think you'll be okay until I get there? If not, you should call 999 f'me."

Still crying, you answer back, "I'll....I'll wait for you. It just hurrrts."

"I know, baby. I'll be there as soon as possible."

The call ends and Harry steps inside his classroom to tell his students, "Class, v' got to run to the office for a second, be on your best behavior, alright." All twenty-five students nod their heads and continue on with their worksheets. Harry books it down the hall until he reaches the schools office.

"Mr. Styles, everything alright?" the older secretary asks as a frantic Harry bursts through the double doors.

"Um, actually, is there anyone who can watch my class for the rest of the day? M' girlfriend is in a bit of an emergency and I need to leave school."

The secretary gives Harry an apologetic look and assures, "I'm sure we can find someone. Go gather your things and I'll send someone down to your classroom."

With relief, Harry replies, "Thank you so much, Mrs. Mabel." He marches back down to his classroom and once inside, hurries to pack all of his things that he normally takes home each day.

"Mr. Styles," one of Harry's students begin curiously, "you're leaving?"

Taking a brief pause, he raises his gaze to address the class, explaining the situation. "M' girlfriend is experiencing an emergency, and I need to leave for the rest of the day. A staff member will be comin' to supervise you until school ends. I expect you all to behave appropriately in their presence, understood?" The students nod in acknowledgment, though some show their disappointment at the fact he has a girlfriend. Like their prepubescent selves had a chance with their hot, much older teacher anyways. He rarely talks about his private life with them because they are still very much kids, so it's understandable that they didn't even know he has a girlfriend.

As Harry steps out the classroom with his satchel slung over his shoulder and an empty coffee cup in hand, a member of office staff arrives to take over the class for the day. He hurriedly approaches his car, and the moment he's inside and starts the engine, he speeds off in the direction of his home. The knowledge that you're suffering alone fills his stomach with nausea and his chest with worry.

He manages to reach home in half the time it typically requires, clearly driving above the speed limit. When he nears his street, Harry calls you to notify you that he's almost there. "Harry......" he hears you cry through the phone and it's breaking his heart.

"M' here, m'love. Pullin' in our driveway now."

With a voice hoarse from your sobbing, you manage to whisper a quiet, "Okay," before hanging up the phone. Just then, the front door opens and you hear hurried footsteps making their way to the bathroom where you are. Harry, not pausing to knock as he occasionally would out of respect, enters without hesitation to assist you. The moment you catch sight of your boyfriend, you're engulfed by another surge of tears—tears of relief that he's actually here, tears of embarrassment over this entire ordeal, and tears resulting from the actual pain in your foot.

As soon as Harry catches sight of you, his eyes become misty with his own tears. He's pained to see you in such distress. He rushes over to the tub to see exactly the situation he's dealing with. He first notices you're soaked, likely due to your inability to grab your towel, and unclothed, clearly from your recent shower. He takes your towel that's hanging up beside the shower and kneels down beside you. "Shhh, everythin' will be alright. M' gonna take you to hospital. You'll be okay."

He drapes the towel over your shoulders to provide you with warmth and then rises to his feet while lifting you. Harry gently scoops you up in his arms bridal style before placing you on the closed toilet seat. "It hurts, ouch, ouch," you cry when your foot lightly touches the floor.

Once you're comfortably seated on the toilet, Harry initiates the drying process to prepare you for clothes. He positions himself beside you and gently runs a towel through your dripping hair. Luckily, you had rinsed all the soap out prior to your fall. He then kneels down in front of you and continues to dry your body. When he reaches your injured foot, he opts to not drying it, recognizing that it will air dry on its own, eventually. The swelling in your foot is quite pronounced, indicating how serious your fall was, which encourages him to move quickly in getting you the help you require.

"Alright, all dry. Do you want me to carry you to your bedroom to get dressed? Or do you want me to bring your clothes in here?"

You respond softly, "In here." Following your words, Harry steps away to fetch you a set of clothes, leaving you feeling particularly exposed while seated on the closed toilet. Although you're aware that Harry's your boyfriend now and you've witnessed his vulnerability on numerous occasions throughout your relationship, even recalling a time when he saw you in a vulnerable state before you became an official couple, when your period caused you such distress. However, him coming to your aid while you're naked after injuring your foot in the shower is quite embarrassing at present, though you're certain that in the years to come, you'll find humor in this incident.

A minute later, a distressed Harry comes in with clothes for you to wear. He places them by the sink and reaches for your bra first, but you stop him. "No bra, we're just going to the hospital. Plus, I'm already in pain and I don't want to add to that."

"Understood, no bra then." He hangs your bra on the hook located behind the bathroom door for your convenience the next time it's needed, and then retrieves your shirt. This shirt is one of his t-shirts that you've made your own. Despite the urgency of getting you to the hospital, he takes his time to assist you in dressing. With care, Harry places the shirt over your head and helps you maneuver your arms through the sleeves. He then kneels down to pull your panties up your legs until they're positioned mid-thigh. He selected a pair of shorts, believing they would be the most practical choice for your injured foot, and you appreciate his thoughtful approach.

Harry attentively helps you rise on your good foot, taking hold of the waistbands of your underwear and shorts to pull them up until they provide full coverage over your bottom. Him doing this evokes the feeling of being a small child that's having help getting dressed by a parent. Once you're seated again and fully dressed, minus shoes, Harry verifies that he has his keys and both of your phones in his pockets before lifting you into his arms once more to carry you to his car. As he exits the bathroom, he ensures that your potentially broken foot doesn't strike the doorframe.

Right as Harry steps outside with you cradled in his hold, your arms looped around his neck, you moan, "I feel sick."

Harry stops dead in his tracks to question, "Are you gonna throw up?" If you were, he'd much prefer you to puke outside in the grass before you got in his car.

"I don't knowww. It just really hurts, H.... The pain is making me nauseous." He chooses to help you into his vehicle anyways, ensuring that your injured foot remains undisturbed as he helps fasten your seatbelt. He then hurries to the driver's seat to begin the journey.

Before departing for the hospital though, Harry opens the glove compartment and retrieves a hospital-grade vomit bag, commonly referred to as an emesis bag. Due to his previous experiences with motion sickness and passengers with motion sickness, as well as drunk friends, he keeps a supply of these bags for emergency situations.

Harry hands you the blue barf bag and says softly, "If you feel like you're gonna be sick, use this alright." You take it from him and he speeds off in the direction of the closest hospital.

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

Thankfully, you reach the hospital without getting sick, despite feeling queasy during the entire trip due to the pain in your foot. Harry parks the car near the emergency entrance and swiftly enters the building to obtain a wheelchair. He emerges quickly with the wheelchair and goes around his vehicle to opens your door, followed by helping you sit inside the wheelchair and pushes you towards the entrance.

Upon entering the Emergency Room, Harry approaches the receptionist and explains your circumstances. She provides him with the necessary paperwork and informs him of the estimated waiting time. Fortunately, the wait is shorter than you anticipated it would be for an ER to have.

Because you're in a considerable amount of pain and unable to concentrate, Harry takes the initiative to fill out the papers himself, although he does ask you a few questions that he's not 100% certain on. You just sit beside him in your wheelchair, clutching the emesis bag, trying not to get sick in front of the few people also sat and waiting to be seen for their injuries and illnesses.

After completing and submitting the required paperwork, you find yourself waiting for an agonizing forty-five minutes until a nurse calls you into room number four. Harry helps by pushing your wheelchair into the room, where the nurse begins to take your vitals and poses relevant questions to determine the cause of your injury. "I observe that your foot seems to be a bit swollen. Can you tell me how you injured it today?"

Breathing deeply through the pain, you respond, "I was... taking a shower. I must have slipped on some shampoo that had collected on the tub floor. I didn't hear a crack or anything, but the pain is unbearable. I think it's broken. I can't apply any weight to it."

The nurse listens closely before glancing up at Harry. "And you are?" she directs at him.

"Oh, um, m' Harry. Y/n's boyfriend. We also live together. But um, I was at work when this happened. She called me at the school where I teach, and was cryin' and distraught, tellin' me she fell in the shower and asked me to come home. Which, of course I did. Then helped her change and brought her here."

"Okay, well let's get some x-rays of your foot and from there we'll determine what needs to be done next."

You and Harry spend an additional ten minutes in room four of the emergency room before the nurse arrives back to escort you to the radiology department for an x-ray of your foot. The entire time, Harry remains by your side. It's evident that he's making an effort to appear strong for your benefit, yet it's clear that he's quite shaken up by the situation. His reaction is entirely reasonable; if you were to receive a call from Harry saying he had been involved in an accident, regardless of its severity, you would likely feel just as distressed, if not more so.

Once you finish getting the x-ray, you're placed back in room four to wait for an actual doctor to show up with the x-ray's results. "Harry, why aren't the going faster? We've been here forever. I'm in so much pain!" you groan with your head leaning on Harry's shoulders as he stands beside the tall bed that's wrapped in white paper, which you're currently laying on.

"I know, baby. M' sure they're goin' as fast as they can. There's a lot of people with emergencies in London." You whine at his words because they don't make you feel any better. Luckily, the next thing you know, a doctor knocks on the door and steps inside with photocopies of the x-rays of your foot.

"Ah, Ms, Y/L/N, how are we today?" Dr. Smitts questions as he comes in the room cheerfully.

Giving him a moody look, you rebuttal, "I'm in the emergency room. How do you think my day's going?!? Just tell me if my foot is broken or not!" Dr. Smitts and even Harry are taken back by your biting tone, though they both understand you're in tons of pain, which explains your sour mood.

"Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, from looking at your x-rays today, it looks like you did fracture your fifth metatarsal bone. The good news is, it looks to be a clean break, so no surgery is needed. The bad news is, you'll need to wear a cast for six to eight weeks for it to heal correctly."

Although you're unhappy about the prospect of wearing a cast for two months, you're grateful to have received a clear diagnosis of your injury. The doctor takes you to another room, where he carefully places the cast on, with Harry present for support of course. You select a black cast to ensure it wouldn't draw too much attention.

When the cast is secured around your foot and lower leg, the doctor prescribes you pain medication for the first few days to help manage your discomfort. He makes sure to ask if there's any history of addiction in your family, to which you reply with, "No." Nonetheless, he cautions you to use the medication sparingly and only when absolutely necessary.

(^ photo not mine!!)

The hospital provides you with a set of crutches, yet allows you to use a wheelchair until you reach Harry's vehicle. Harry assists you in getting inside, carefully positioning the crutches on the back seat, and then proceeds to drive to the pharmacy to collect your medication.

On the drive to the pharmacy, you speak up, "This sucks! How am I gonna do anything for myself. Oh God, even worse, how are we gonna have sex."

Harry glances over to see you actually have tears in your eyes and laughs. "Y/n, you just broke your foot and your first thought is how we're gonna have sex?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm sure I'll still get horny but you won't be able to fuck me with the ginormous cast on my foot and leg. Oh my God, what are we gonna do. I guess I can always use one of my vibrators to rub one out. Or..."

Harry interrupts you, "There's still options, baby. I can always finger you. Or eat you out. I love doin' that for you. We don't always have to have intercourse to be intimate."

Looking over as he drives, you fight back, "Yeah, but what about you? You'll get hard sometimes and.... and, we won't be able to have sex."

"Y/n, you didn't break your hand or your mouth did you?" His words shut you up real quick, realizing he's right. You could always use your hands or mouth to pleasure him while your foot is healing.

The remainder of the car ride is silent, besides your low groans from the pain that's still present. When you arrive at the pharmacy, Harry goes inside to pick up your prescription and purchases you a bottle of water so you can take a pill in the car.

Upon his return to the vehicle, you swiftly open the bottle of pills, extract one, and place it in your mouth, hoping to alleviate your pain, even if only temporarily. As Harry drives back home, your thoughts are consumed by your exhaustion of today's events and the apprehension you feel regarding the recovery period for your foot.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

A Week in the Life with a Broken Foot {part. 17}

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nurmohammadblog · 1 year ago

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bestfaresflight · 2 years ago

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