#But it was so delicate because they relied on each other so heavily

[the-dragon-hearted]

Currently thinking about how the death of Polites fractured the dynamic of the crew which led to quite literally the rest of the Odyssey in EPIC the musical. The entire crew relied on this man and NO, I am not exaggerating.

Polites served as the temperance of Ody; the diplomatic and optimistic council who was a liaison between the captain and his crew. Why? Well, Polites is never acknowledged to hold any power in the crew (we're talking EPIC canon here) but is clearly respected and valued by the captain. This combination is familiar; the crew is comfortable approaching Polites because he's their equal and Polites is comfortable approaching Odysseus with their problems because they're friends. That is his role.

Now I have my own issues with Eurylochus but I do think he's written well. And I also do not think he is fully in the wrong. HOT TAKE I KNOW, but hear me out: Eury was Ody's right hand. Odysseus is clever but he's also pretty humble (excluding the whole "I am the infamous Odysseus" but Bro had a right to crash out there). Odysseus does not surround himself with "yes-men", he surrounds himself with friends who are willing to challenge him. Case and point; Eurylochus and Polites.

Polites challenges his morals and instincts - Polites is always trying to ensure that Odysseus is doing what is best for himself. "You can relax my friend" is not something you tell your leader to do casually. It's what you tell your friend to do when they're working themselves too damn hard. "Greet the world with open arms" is not what you tell your commanding officer who you're trusting to get you home.

Eurylochus challenges his decisions. Always does, in every scene and NO that is not a flaw. He serves as a point of resistance so that Odysseus is forced to consider every option carefully. He makes sure Ody has considered the worst-case scenario and is fully prepared to back him up when that happens. Bro was ready to burn the Lotus island down if his friends didn't come back. Eury is the guy who's willing to strike first and make the difficult decisions, much like Ody is. He is a good second in command.

The point is: the two filled massively different roles in the crew. Eury is supposed to challenge Odysseus and question his decisions - that is his job; to make sure that his captain is making the best decisions for the crew. Polites is supposed to support Ody; he is a friend, a confident, and a source of trust and camaraderie.

What makes them such a well-oiled machine is that they all have specific roles and they are good at them. Ody makes the plans and decides what battles to fight, Eurylochus takes initiative and counterbalances Polites optimism, Polites offers ethical and moral support while counterbalancing Eury's cynicism. That is why the crew works so well.

Odysseus has someone to rely on and someone to challenge him. The crew has someone to confide in and a second in command to consider their needs. They have a captain who listens to both. Eurylochus and Polites have each other to balance out and a captain who values their opinions.

It works. It's balanced. It's a powerful type of leadership.

Then Polites dies, and so does that balance.

Eurylochus finds himself having to fill two roles. He has to question his captain and calm the crew. He has to place complete trust in Odysseus as Polites did, but he can't. His and Ody's relationship has always been based on challenging one another to ensure that they're considering every angle. He has spent his entire life being critical of Odysseus' plans because he knows that's what he's supposed to do. He doesn't have blind faith, he's a realist - optimism and trust were Polites forte.

Odysseus finds himself without that support and line of connection to Polites. He grows disconnected from the crew because of it and flounders when it comes to dealing with Eurylochus.

This is seen clearly in the song: Luck Runs Out

Eury was not in the wrong for pointing out how fucking crazy it is to casually ask the Wind God for some help. Sure let's go knock on a god's door and ask for loose change; HELLO!? There are so many ways it could've gone wrong and it has always been Eury's job to point such flaws out. It's what he's always done - probably what he's done for Ody throughout the war.

But Odysseus? He just lost his best friend and his mentor. His entire support system is crumbling, so being challenged by the one person who he needs to have his back pushes him into a dangerous space as a leader.

On the one hand, he cannot afford to have Eury question his every move, especially since Polites isn't there to challenge him for Odysseus. Especially now that he doesn't have Polites instilling trust in the crew - he can't afford Eury's challenges to eroding what trust remains in his disheartened crew.

On the other, pushing Eurylochus away and demanding staunch obedience from him is so out of character for their relationship that all trust between Captain and SOC is suddenly up in the air.

That is why Eurylochus opens the windbag. Not because he wanted "treasure", but because the captain who demanded he "be devout" is not the captain he's followed all this time. The captain who sits awake for four days, eyes following every crewmember with a glimmer of distrust is not the Odysseus Eurylochus knows.

Eury knows Odysseus with Polites. If Polites had been alive, he would've been able to quell the crew's distrust because he would have had full trust in their captain. Odysseus would've been able to trust his crew because he could trust Polites. He cannot trust Eurylochus to have that same blind faith, because Eury doesn't have it; and the crew knows it.

Everything's changed since Polites

It's not a throwaway line; it's what the crew whispers to Eurylochus. He's different. He's changed. Odysseus is not the same. Maybe it is treasure. Maybe he's lying to us. How do we know? How do you know?

And Eurylochus doesn't know. He isn't certain. Odysseus is his friend and his captain; that's a difficult power dynamic to balance.

So Eury opens the windbag, because he doesn't trust Odysseus. It's a different sort of mistrust though - not one of constructive criticism from a friend, but earnest dangerous mistrust of your superior.

Eurylochus leads the mutiny, because that was always his role as Ody's right hand; to question and stand against what he felt was wrong. To speak for the crew as another leader.

But Eurylochus never wanted to be captain. He never wanted to betray his friend. He felt he had to - Yes, he was willing to leave crewmates behind in Circe's lair because he has always been willing to make those hard calls.

Odysseus? He so rarely does what Eurylochus wants to do because they are not the same person. Eury doesn't want Ody to be him (Eury has flaws, but ambition is not one of them. He recognizes he isn't a good leader hence he immediately falls back on Ody's judgment after the holy cow bit) - he wants Ody to listen to him and consider his insights. So for Odysseus to sacrifice six of their crewmates without a word to his friend - without consulting anyone - without leaving space for his right-hand man to question him... that is when Eurylochus loses faith in Odysseus. Because that is not his captain. He doesn't know who it is. But his captain would never.

Hypocritical? Yes. But also rather insightful.

And Odysseus? He loses the last pillar of support he has in the crew, not because Eurylochus changes - not even because he changes. He loses it all because it is doomed to fall apart without Polites. It was all doomed to fall apart when they lost their counterbalance.

It is not Ody's mercy or ruthlessness that kills them. It is not Eury's distrust. Both of those existed far before it all went to shit. It was Polites dying. It was the fact that the three of them were so well suited for leadership as long as it was the three of them.

It had to be the three of them.

[tojisun]

price catches it first — that whiff spreading in the den, clogging up his throat like ratafia. it makes him pause, words failing him now, and he snaps his jaw shut at the start of a rumble pulsing from his chest.

he turns just as the others do, watching as you rub on your throat and grumble to yourself. it is bare, the first it’s ever been since you’ve arrived at the base, and his eyes drop to your collar in wonder.

he’s heard of those before — collars that conceal scents. they’ve become a privilege, not quite a necessity, so only a few are found with them. still, rarer are those who would wear them for hours on end, and in the base, you happened to be the only one to do so.

intriguing, if not at least worrying, because price had seen your file. you’re an alpha. an alpha prime, it seemed, based on your presentation records, and yet you came to him with a collar on your throat and your scent heavily suppressed. he didn’t ask, this is not the line of work where one can, and just demanded for your loyalty and skill.

so this is the first that they’re smelling of you. it is overwhelming, like all other alpha scents usually are, but it curls at the end. sweet but burnt. crackling firewood and smoke. it is pleasant but not just; like at every turn, there has to be something that gives. something unexpected; something unusual.

john breathes in sharply, his muscles going taut underneath the fatigues when he realizes what it is. the rest of the squad follow — they sit up straighter, their shoulders drawn higher, and their scents rap against each other, mixing in dizzying blends. the den becomes packed with worry, apprehension, horror, anger, protectiveness, protectiveness, protectiveness.

still, you only look at them with a cocked brow, daring them to go. to speak of what it is weighing down on their tongues.

it is kyle to do so. kyle who you trust more than anyone else.

“you’ve been bitched.”

he says it with no malice, but just as a fact rolling off his tongue, one that makes your fingers twitch while your face stays frozen, still a mask of normalcy. of measured strength and quiet fortitude.

“i have,” you reply, also void of emotion. any other day he would commend the control you have of your emotions to not even let it slip into your scent, especially after having relied on your collar so much, but tonight isn’t the right time. tonight, john’s mind swirls, his tongue heavy with the things he wants to say.

so he tries.

“was it—”

you blink at him. then, you laugh. “oh! yes, of course. i wanted it.”

your reply fills him up, stuffing him with cotton. he realizes that your tension was of worry; you were afraid that they would judge you. and john feels lighter, elated and calm now, but also he feels disjointed, like he is floating, and john, he–

he tries.

he tries not to imagine the weight of your words. he tries not to give them shape. but his mind is faster than his conscience, and john now thinks of you, alpha prime, begging for another alpha to turn you. to fill you up and drown your scent glands with their own before gnawing on your skin. biting. biting. biting. until it takes root, upending every fibre within you to make room for the submission. for the delicateness. for the heat.

john’s thoughts only grind to a halt when the new scent is snuffed out from the room, extinguished in its entirety, leaving no trail. his eyes find you fastening the collar on your neck again, your roughened fingers unlatching the buckle to loop the leather.

he swallows like he is a man parched, but his throat only grows dryer. there is nothing for him to feast on.

it goes by so slowly; your familiarity with the collar does not aid you in fastening its loose end, and john wonders if you might need help, after all. only, just as the question is building on the tip of his tongue, he realizes what you’re doing.

what teases you are leaving.

“so,” you say like you have not just presented an opportunity for them to latch onto. “can i be dismissed?”

john hums his ascent, and ends the meeting for tonight. they watch as you gather your files before waltzing away with only the sound of your boots following you. the rest of the squad stays, awashed by the… offering.

because it was everything and that.

it was a proof of your trust, and a question of their own, one that john knows that they will eagerly prove to you. but it was also an invitation; a revelation and now a question.

john watches the way simon’s knuckles turn white as he balls his hands into fists and wonders if his boys would allow him to be the first to you.

——

this is nothing and everything alike; experimenting on omegaverse in hopes that i’ll get out of my slump </3

[elysiumania]

title: when the moon descends

pairing(s): jing yuan, reader

characters: jing yuan, reader, fu xuan, yanqing

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: in the midst of his daily routine, jing yuan finds solace and delight in the presence of a certain individual who never fails to brighten his morning.

As the first rays of the sun creep into his chambers like tendrils of light, Jing Yuan feels as if he's being beckoned by a siren's call to stay in the comfort of his bed. The weight of his responsibilities as the Luofu General bears down upon his chest, compelling him to evade the challenges of the forthcoming day. However, he understands that yielding to such temptation is not an option, for the affairs of the Xianzhou Luofu demands his undivided attention and his subordinates depend on him to steer them through the tumultuous waters. So, with great effort, Jing Yuan shakes off the heavy cloak of lethargy and begins his day.

Jing Yuan acknowledges that there have been instances in which he has entrusted some of his obligations to the Master Diviner, Fu Xuan. But he knows that he can't rely solely on her, for there are still other pressing matters that require his attention. Though discreetly. 

It's like a delicate balance, trying to delegate tasks to others while also shouldering his own share of responsibilities. Despite the weight that comes with it, Jing Yuan knows that it's all part of being a leader—the ability to juggle multiple tasks and make the tough decisions that can impact the lives of many.

Although Jing Yuan is tempted to stay in bed all day, the sheer amount of paperwork on his office desk is urging him to begin his day. It is imperative that he completes those towering documents as soon as possible, not only to free up his leisure time, but also because they contain crucial information that requires his attention. The requests and reports from various commissions must be addressed promptly by the General. 

Who knows, maybe amongst these papers lies something that will pique his interest and provide a welcome distraction from his monotonous routine.

Jing Yuan starts his day with a heavy heart, knowing that his responsibilities as a General would be demanding, but he continues to walk with a purpose. 

As he traverses the bustling streets of Luofu, people pay their respects to him, bowing in reverence to his position. His subordinates, with their eyes locked on their tasks, take a moment to acknowledge their General's presence and extend their greetings. The aura around him demands respect and deference, marking him as a man of great authority and responsibility.

To Jing Yuan, his routine was as steady as the flow of the river, never faltering or swaying. The daily tasks and responsibilities that came with his position were second nature to him, like a well-oiled machine that worked without a hitch. The only thing that could disrupt the serene pattern of his life was a crisis that threatened the peace and stability of Xianzhou Luofu. In such dire circumstances, Jing Yuan would act with urgency, convening a meeting of the commission heads to ensure the safety of the people he swore to protect.

As he enters his office, Jing Yuan's eyes are immediately drawn to the pile of papers resting atop his desk, a sight that never fails to elicit a deep sigh of weariness from the Xianzhou General. It is a task that he cannot avoid, no matter how much he wishes to do so, an inescapable responsibility that weighs heavily on the shoulders of the wise and valiant leader of Luofu. 

A defeated scoff escapes his lips as he trudges towards his desk, mentally preparing himself for the monotonous task that has become his daily routine.

Jing Yuan peruses through the stack of papers, carefully analyzing each document before signing off on the ones he approves of, he separates them into two piles–one for those that require immediate attention, and the other for those that need further work. 

As Jing Yuan's eyes dart back and forth across the pages, a sudden knock at his door jolts him out of his concentration like a bolt of lightning. And then, he hears the sound of a voice that is as soothing and sweet as honey, a voice that always makes his heart skip a beat with anticipation. In an instant, his eyes light up like stars in the sky, sparkling with excitement at the prospect of seeing the owner of that enchanting voice.

Because it is none other than his most favorite being. (Name).

Jing Yuan grants you permission to enter, his gaze fixated on the door as he waits for your arrival with the eagerness of a child anticipating their turn on the playground. When the door creaks open, his eyes are immediately drawn to your radiant face, despite the pile of documents clutched in your arms. The General pays no attention to the paperwork, his entire focus directed solely at the sight of your smile directed towards him. To him, nothing else holds as much importance as you, his beloved partner, who never fails to bring a smile to his face and ease his worries. 

"Good morning, General," you address with a courteous bow, paying respect to the esteemed leader of Luofu.

The General gazes at you with his customary smile, despite having previously expressed his desire for you to address him by name in private. Yet, you persist with your habit of addressing him with formality, even in the privacy of his office.

Jing Yuan comprehends your predicament fully. Your clandestine affair is something that must remain a secret from the rest of the Xianzhou, and given that you are under his command, he acknowledges the importance of maintaining a professional demeanor.

At first, Jing Yuan was puzzled as to why you wanted your relationship with him to be kept under wraps, but after learning that you were not yet prepared to reveal your relationship to the natives of Xianzhou Luofu, he acquiesces to your request. Your thoughts and emotions matter to him, and he respects your decision. He'll patiently wait for the day when you feel comfortable enough to share your romance with everyone.

Jing Yuan understands the gravity of the situation, and he doesn't want to put any undue pressure on you. He knows that if your relationship is made public, it will draw the attention of many, and it will become a hot topic of discussion amongst the citizens. 

Being the honorable and respectable General of Xianzhou Luofu, he is aware that his actions are under constant scrutiny, and any news of his personal life could easily become tomorrow's headline. 

Therefore, he doesn't want to risk ruining the comforting and peaceful company he already had with you. No.

Being with you brings Jing Yuan a sense of serenity that he seldom experiences amidst the chaos of his duties as a general. You are his sanctuary, a tranquil harbor where he can dock his restless heart. Listening to your voice and watching the subtle movements of your lips as you speak is akin to watching a mesmerizing dance. Your eyes, like two shining stars, holding his gaze in a trance, and he finds himself lost in the vastness of their beauty. In your company, he is content to forget the world and the worries that come with it.

Despite his reputation for being a quick dozer, Jing Yuan never wants to miss a moment of being with you and hearing about your day. He knows that being in your company is a rare and precious indulgence, like savoring a delectable treat that is too fleeting and too limited. 

Although he's constrained by the secrecy of your relationship, Jing Yuan remains hopeful for a time when he can freely spend his days with you without fear of being exposed. He yearns for the day when he can finally engage in all the activities he's been dreaming of without any reservations. He's optimistic that this day will come, and until then, he will cherish every moment he gets to spend with you in private, relishing the comfort and safety that your company provides.

The prospect of that day fills him with immense anticipation, and he longs for it to arrive.

“Here are the reports of the Sky-Faring commission, General.” You hand over the reports to Jing Yuan, not daring to meet his intense gaze. 

His amber eyes seem to penetrate through your very being, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It's as if he's peering into the depths of your soul, examining every thought and emotion. You can't help but feel uneasy under his watchful stare. After all, it's Jing Yuan, the highly respected General of the Luofu Cloud Knights, and his imposing presence is impossible to ignore. Despite being his secret lover, you still feel conscious of your every move and appearance in his presence.

“(Name), come here,” Jing Yuan utters in a gentle tone, but the authoritative edge in his voice is unmistakable.

At the sound of Jing Yuan's voice, you are inexorably pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. The gentle curve of his lips and the tender warmth in his amber gaze resonate with you, enveloping you in a comforting cocoon of affection. It's almost as though he has woven a spell that ensnares your every movement, compelling you to draw near to him with a sense of captivation and awe. His commanding presence is both palpable and irresistible, and you find yourself drawn to him without any conscious effort.

You glide over to Jing Yuan, and it prompts him to swivel his body to face you. He's perched on his chair, and as he gazes up at you, you catch his amber eyes with your own. 

Upon locking gazes with you, Jing Yuan experiences a surge of emotions that swiftly courses through his being, evoking the rapid flutters of a hummingbird's wings in his chest. He finds himself captivated by the sight of you, who exudes an aura of luminosity and grace that enraptured his senses. Even in the absence of the sun's warmth, you shine like a celestial body, illuminating his world and imbuing it with a sense of wonder and admiration. As he continues to gaze upon you, his affection for you only grows stronger, as he is powerless to resist the alluring force of your magnetic pull.

In his subliminal state, he extends his hand to grasp your hands in his sizable ones, sensing the heat emanating from your palms, and he relishes the sensation of it.

In this very moment, as Jing Yuan finally takes hold of your hands, he begins to caress your knuckles with his thumbs in the most gentle and soothing way possible, treating them as if they were a delicate and fragile crystal that he is afraid of damaging. As he continues to rub, his fingers slide effortlessly in between yours, elegantly interlacing and entwining them together. The unexpected tenderness of his touch causes a warm blush to spread across your cheeks, taking you by surprise, yet you remain motionless, as if tamed by his presence. Although he can feel the faint tremble in your hands, he is grateful that you do not pull away, and he continues to hold onto you, cherishing this rare moment of intimacy.

As he tried to contain his amusement, a small, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped from Jing Yuan's lips, betraying his attempt at composure. 

Jing Yuan couldn't resist the urge to tease you a bit and asked, "Are you feeling nervous?" 

He felt a subtle tremor in your hand, signaling him that you were indeed feeling apprehensive. The sight of your sudden reaction elicited a sense of amusement from within him, causing the corners of his lips to stretch into a small, yet visible grin. However, his amusement was short-lived, for he soon sensed that you had regained your composure and settled into a state of calmness.

"General, I suggest you should release me. It would not be ideal for us to be seen in this manner," you calmly remind, conscious of the potential consequences of being caught in such a compromising position. However, you are unable to deceive the sharp eyes of Jing Yuan, who can sense the underlying emotions beneath your composed exterior.

"Let them see it." You became aware of Jing Yuan's remark, and let out a soft gasp at his boldness. 

Even though he had previously expressed his intention to honor your wishes and wait for you, he spoke truthfully at that moment. It was of no consequence to him if anyone were to witness your intimate exchange, as he desired for everyone to acknowledge that you were solely his.

"General—"

"Jing Yuan," he interjects, longing for the sound of his name on your lips.

"But we're—" again with him interrupting you.

"I have but one desire, (Name), and that is to hear you speak my name," Jing Yuan implores with a subtle plea, his grip on your hands tight as he urges you to comply with his request. His eyes seem to gleam under the sun's rays, almost as if they were hypnotic, coaxing you to surrender to him.

Your lips tighten into a firm line, unwilling to yield to Jing Yuan's indolence yet determined nature. It's one of his many qualities that leaves you with no choice but to relent and give in to his wishes.

Therefore, you relinquish, your shoulders dropping in resignation as you release a defeated sigh.

"Jing Yuan," you utter, finally giving in to his request. He couldn't hide his delight upon hearing his name from your lips. Even if it may seem insignificant to others, it means the world to the General, enough to brighten his mood.

"Very well," he replies with a subtle nod. "I earnestly request that you continue to address me by my name when we are in private. It's not desirable for me to feel a sense of separation from you due to our current circumstances. Do you comprehend my sentiments, (Name)?"

A smile graces Jing Yuan's face as his gaze lingers on you, and you take a brief moment to observe him before answering.

"I understand, but we must stay vigilant. There are prying eyes everywhere you go. I do not wish to bring any more difficulties upon you," you admit bashfully, averting your eyes from his.

Jing Yuan squeezes his grip on you and speaks in a soft tone, "Look at me, (Name)." He waits until he has your full attention. "I want you to understand that if it concerns you, it is not a burden to me. You hold great significance in my life, and I assure you that any inconvenience you may cause is of no concern. In fact, I would be delighted if you require my assistance.”

Jing Yuan's voice is gentle, reminiscent of the gentle caress of fluffy clouds on a bright summer day. He doesn't spell it out, but you can tell he's trying to assuage your worries in his own unique way. His words were already indicative of his intent, and although you have conflicting emotions, they dissipated when Jing Yuan delivered his heartfelt speech.

Your countenance brightens up as you acknowledge Jing Yuan's words with a smile that reaches your eyes, revealing the depth of your gratitude towards him. The General doesn't miss the tenderness in your look, and it stirs a fluttering sensation in his chest that he can't ignore. In response, he mirrors your expression of fondness, beaming with an equal measure of warmth and affection.

Jing Yuan yields to the irresistible impulse to draw you closer, settling you onto his lap, which catches you by surprise and causes your heart to race uncontrollably.

He envelops you in his embrace, his arms delicately encircling your waist, and he presses his nose into your hair, savoring the captivating fragrance of your shampoo that has grown to be his familiar fixation. It is a scent that he will always connect with you, a fragrance that will remain etched in his memory.

"Jing Yuan," you stutter, aware of the blush that suffuses your cheeks from both embarrassment and your close proximity. "Your actions could potentially expose us to being caught by someone."

Jing Yuan is acutely aware of your embarrassment, even without visually confirming it. Despite having shared moments of intimacy in private settings, you still appear unaccustomed to his unpredictable yet affectionate gestures. He finds it perplexing that you are still taken aback, given the likelihood of more instances like this in the future.

He contemplates whether he should demonstrate more of these affectionate actions in the hopes that you'll become more accustomed to such intimacy.

"I have already made myself clear, have I not? Let them see," he declares, as he maintains his embrace and presses his face onto your head. His unwavering action conveys his steadfast resolve to keep you close, unmindful of any prying eyes or onlookers that may come.

“You’re being overbearing, Jing Yuan.” You deliver the comment with a hint of amusement, making him laugh knowing full well that he can sense your eyes rolling in exasperation.

You feel his arms tightening around you, his hold on you growing firmer. "Worry not, no one may enter my office without my permission," he reassures you, though he quickly follows up with a caveat. "With the exception of my retainer, Yanqing, I'm afraid."

You let out a sigh and attempt to shift your position to release yourself from Jing Yuan's hold. Unfortunately, his embrace on you only grows stronger, making it impossible for you to escape his grasp.

Your tone is assertive as you convey your concerns to Jing Yuan. "I suggest it would be appropriate if you release me now. Yanqing could walk in and catch us in this position. Furthermore, Lady Yukong has a meeting scheduled shortly, and my attendance is necessary," you state, underscoring the importance of the matter.

Jing Yuan contemplates whether he should accede to your request or not. However, he comprehends that it would not be prudent to cause you any vexation on account of his own indulgence, especially given that you both have obligations to attend to. Despite the limited time you share, he remains convinced that there will be future opportunities where he can have you as he desires.

"Would it be permissible to remain in this embrace for a mere five minutes?" Jing Yuan inquires, his tone low but exhibiting a gentle and almost imploring quality.

When Jing Yuan receives a nod of your head in response, a smile spreads across his face. He holds onto you tightly, savoring every moment he has left to spend with you. He takes comfort in knowing that you will see each other again later.

As the minutes ticked by, Jing Yuan adhered to his promise and reluctantly let go of you, the loss of your warmth and proximity leaving an ache in his chest. You stood up swiftly, smoothing out your attire and trying to regain your composure. Jing Yuan watched you intently, taking in every detail of your movement and memorizing the way you looked in that moment. As you turned to face him, he remained silent, his gaze fixed solely on you.

With a sense of remorse and a weight on your heart, you implore Jing Yuan. "I know our situation is hard, but please bear it for a little longer."

You are aware that he has no reservations about disclosing your relationship, but you are hesitant due to the potential negative ramifications that it may bring. The prospect of being scrutinized and shunned by others because of your association with the General preoccupies your thoughts and causes you to be ill-equipped to handle the aftermath of a public announcement.

Jing Yuan is not oblivious to your troubled expression as he observes you closely. The way you look down at your feet and clench your fists, he already knows what is weighing on your mind. It is the same expression you wear whenever your secretive relationship becomes a topic of discussion. He truly understands your worries and concerns. Therefore, the only recourse Jing Yuan can offer to alleviate your distress is to offer comfort and assurance. He assures you that he does not object to waiting until such time that you are ready to divulge your relationship to the public, and that he will be there for you every step of the way. In his own inimitable way, he consoles you until your concerns are dispelled. Because that is the only thing he can do for you at this moment.

"(Name)." Jing Yuan once again calls your name and it didn't take him a second to gain your heed. "Will you lean in?"

You were confused by Jing Yuan's sudden request, but without hesitation, you leaned in towards him. Sensing his hand on the back of your head, you felt a rush of emotions. As he pulled you closer to him, your eyes widened in anticipation of what was to come. Jing Yuan's lips landed gently on top of your head, eliciting a tingly sensation that traveled down to your fingertips and stirred butterflies in your stomach. The contact of his lips on your head lingered for a moment briefly before he drew away. His lips curved into a smile as he gazed at your blushing cheeks and slightly parted lips as you looked into each other’s eyes.

Jing Yuan was greatly amused by your reaction, which was one of the many reasons why he took pleasure in teasing you. Your reactions were absolutely priceless, and he simply couldn't get enough of them. It only served to fuel his desire to tease you even further whenever he saw you react in such a way.

Indeed, he is satisfied.

"It would be best if you left now," he suggested, his hand tenderly resting on your head as he gave it a reassuring pat. "I understand that you have other pressing matters to attend to, and I wouldn't want to keep you from them," he explained, his eyes reflecting a blend of melancholy and solicitude. "However, please know that should you ever require any assistance, my door will always be open to you," he offered, his tone composed and reassuring.

As you blink, you snap out of your stupor and quickly straighten your posture. The blush on your face remains, a lingering effect of the surprise that Jing Yuan had given you. It was astounding how effortlessly he could catch you off guard, leaving you constantly on edge, unsure of what he might do next.

He is indeed a mysterious man. 

"Thank you, Jing Yuan. I appreciate your kind offer," you reply, clearing your throat in an attempt to compose yourself. "I shall keep that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave."

You cast a quick glance at Jing Yuan, and your eyes catch him gazing at you with such tenderness that it leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy inside. It was a look that he always gave you, even from afar, and it never failed to make your heart melt.

Jing Yuan observes you quietly as you collect yourself to leave his room. He feels a sense of disappointment knowing that you will soon be gone and that he will be left alone in his spacious office. However, he understands the urgency of your matters with the Sky-Faring commission and would not want to be the cause of your tardiness to a meeting that is soon to be held. It would be unwise of him to delay you, even if he wished otherwise.

As Jing Yuan is lost in thought, he suddenly feels a cool sensation on his forehead, interrupting his musings. He soon realizes that you had surprised him with a kiss on the forehead without any prior warning, making his body stiffen unwillingly.

Jing Yuan was astonished yet pleased by your unexpected display of affection. He had not anticipated such a gesture, but it was one that he valued greatly. His body soon relaxes and the warmth in his heart swelled as he closed his eyes, basking in the moment and enjoying the sensation of your touch.

It was a moment that he wished could last indefinitely.

However, the moment of intimacy between you and Jing Yuan came to an end as you pulled away from him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment as the warmth and tenderness he felt instantly dissipated. Jing Yuan adjusted his posture, backing away slightly as he looked at you. He was a bit surprised by the intensity of your gaze, which conveyed a deep admiration and affection that was reserved only for him. This was a look that had the power to make him feel weak, but he always put up a tough front and never revealed his vulnerability to you. 

If only you are aware how much you affected him this much. Will you still be able to grant him more, or minimize because of embarrassment? He does not know. But he hopes it will be the former.

"I will take my leave now as I may be late," you say in a hurry. Jing Yuan simply waves a dismissive hand, giving you permission to attend to your duties.

"Good luck with your work," he said with a smile, and you nodded in response.

As you turn to leave Jing Yuan's office, you pause and take one last glance at Jing Yuan, who's comfortably sitting in his seat as he watches you.

You lick your lips and convey the words that you wanted to say. "I'll see you later."

With a final smile, you exit the room and make your way towards the Helm Master who was waiting for you. 

Once you are no longer in his office, Jing Yuan couldn't help but smile as he reflected on the brief encounter you had just shared. The sensation of your lips on his forehead is still palpable, like a vivid painting on a canvas. The warmth of your touch lingers, leaving an indelible impression on his skin. 

The encounter bestowed upon Jing Yuan gives him a profound sense of contentment and exhilaration, stirring within him a delightful mixture of emotions. The satisfaction he derived from that fleeting interaction proved to be truly intoxicating, leaving him with an insatiable yearning for more. His craving persisted, unquenched by the mere taste of that moment.

Jing Yuan redirects his focus to the documents before him, delicately resting his chin on his palm. The faint smirk that creeps his face persists as though it was a lasting imprint on his features.

How can he not be pleased when his morning was a very welcoming indulgence he had? It indeed gave him the satisfaction that he needs.

If you consistently become the first person he encounters and shower him with your affection every time the moon descends, his mornings will no longer be laden with dreariness as they were originally destined to be.

Jing Yuan will perpetually welcome anything and everything as long as it involves you.

[tubulartoasts]

You. I have been searching for one like you for some time now.

First of all, I wanna ask for Davesprite in that image. I may love Joyful Spherical Creature with all my heart but frankly a Homestuck deserves to be there and Davesprite is a cool guy.

Second of all, I want your opinion as both a Homestuck knower and a Touhou knower. See, I don't have much drawing beans right now but at some point I'd love to draw Touhou characters as Trollian shipping quadrants. I figure Matespritship should be whoever are most heavily implied to be a couple (I'm going Merry and Renko); Kismesissitude is Kaguya and Mokou for obvious reasons; and, Moiraillegiance, after reading up on it and noting its focus on two people complimenting each others' traits or sometimes more specifically one person taking care of another, would best suit Tenshi and Shion.

However, I don't think I know enough about all the characters to accurately say who best fills the role of Auspistice. Not only do I only know some Touhous (quite a lot I would say but there is a lot a lot to know) but Auspisticism doesn't get much attention even in Homestuck. It's mostly just referenced in passing.

If you can think of someone who qualifies (mediates two (or more I guess) people's rivalry to prevent it from becoming an outright archrivalry for one reason or another) I really want your opinion on it.

Hello. First of all I would like to thank you for your inquiry. Secondly sorry for leaving you hanging there

You're right its hard thinking of good fits. It doesn't help that the majority of touhou characters will just sorta let people beat each other up.

I think a good fit would be Futo and Tojiko with Miko as the auspistice.

Before they died, Futo and Tojiko hated each other because they were of warring factions. It wasn't until they both went along with Miko's resurrection plan that they began to tolerate each other. Despite Futo fucking up Tojiko's resurrection- making her a ghost, they've been on pretty good terms with a mutual hatred for buddhism through Miko. nice and simple!

I also have a secret second answer..

Gensokyo relies on a delicate balance between all of its inhabitants, specifically between the youkai and the human village. Should the scale tip, the existence of youkai would be at stake. If humans stop fearing youkai, they become powerless and Gensokyo becomes no different from the outside world. If youkai threaten the village, they put the humans they rely on in jeopardy. They must remain safely at odds with each other. There is one person tasked with maintaining this balance, and that's Reimu. I'm suggesting that Reimu be in an auspisticism with the two halves of Gensokyo itself. You can't really draw that though so feel free to completely disregard it.

anyways here's davesprite he's fuckin sick, hell yea awesome!

[nowis-scales]

Ryoma Birthday Headcanons

I definitely did not almost forget to prepare any of these in advance because I forgot that April 31st wasn’t a thing, haha… noooo, who would do that? I’m sorry Ryoma. You’re still my 2nd favourite Fates character, I’m just busy. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this year’s round!

‣ Honestly, after the events of Revelation, he’s a little embarrassed that his first act as king (without being directly coronated, of course) was to declare war. For one thing, Hoshido is a country of peace. Very few kings during their reigns opened them by starting a war. For another, the problems with Nohr that drove them to battle were half the fault of a [REDACTED] working behind the scenes to worsen relations, and the other half were his fault for being ignorant. Thankfully for the most part people talk about his efforts to bring food to Nohr and end battles more than they do his tendency to start them, but it does make Ryoma more weary of how he handles conflicts afterwards.

‣ A lot of people believe that Ryoma is just naturally good at everything and never fails or has embarrassing moments. No. The man is actually just really, really good at a poker face, and it tends to convince people. No, that clang you heard was not him knocking his dessert spoon off the table, Prince Xander. You must be imagining things. The fact that his dessert spoon is now gone must surely be a coincidence, and likely evidence of another visit from a cute, pig-tailed prankster named Elise. Ryoma genuinely does fail fairly normal, but he has just learned to roll with the punches and keep going, and he has found that most of the time people will just believe him. Of course, this can only make it more embarrassing when there’s no way he can convince anyone that he didn’t misjudge the doorway’s height and bash his head, because there’s a bruise forming already. He just turns a little pink then.

‣ For someone who wears red a lot and is heavily associated with the colour, his favourite is actually blue. He doesn’t mention it much because he still does like red, but he finds the colour very calming. If given the opportunity to dress himself in casual clothing, it’s usually the colour he will go for the most, and he usually does for a deep, midnight blue tone.

‣ Contrary to popular belief, he and Mikoto did not have a magical mother-son connection. They genuinely liked, loved, and respected each other, but after losing both of his own parents, Ryoma tended to try and keep his parental figures at arms' length after that. Mikoto, loving mother that she was, always tried to connect with him anyway, but they weren’t as close as many people believe. A lot of that comes from the fact that he showed immense support for her at the beginning of her reign, calling her “Mother” and taking her opinions and advice very seriously. He genuinely did grow to think of her as his mother and would sing her praises all day long, but in the end their bond wasn’t similar to that of the ones she had with Sakura or Takumi. They relied on each other a lot politically and socially, but emotional connections could be sporadic. It’s why Yukimura’s choice of words for their connection is “cordial”.

‣ I imagine one of Ryoma’s first political moves is to change the succession order to being just by age, rather than age and gender. He does this as a way to honour Queen Mikoto’s memory, as she was living proof of the power of an influential female leader. It’s considered quite the controversial move, but we all know our boy can be manipulative when he wants to be — so when people try to question him, he will always asks them if they’re insinuating that Mikoto was anything less than perfect. Do they think they could have done better than her, if they were to walk in her shoes? They tend to shut up quickly after that.

‣ I’ve mentioned that I think Ryoma probably doesn’t believe too much in the “women are inherently inferior to men and need to be soft and delicate” idea on the surface, considering he was raised by and is deeply bonded to four (or five, considering Corrin’s gender) strong women, but I think he definitely still has a problem with understanding that protective paternalism isn’t helpful. He’s very absorbed in his expected gender role as a man, to the point that he doesn’t really even consider how patronizing he comes across. He genuinely thinks he’s helping and doing something good, because his one main job in life has been protector. He’s not thinking about how unfair it is to assume that the women in his life need his back-up or can’t handle things, he just thinks he’s being chivalrous.

‣ Not a morning person, mostly because he's a really bad sleeper. Total grumpy grump. He’ll get up when Saizo or Kagero wakes him, but he’s not happy about it. In fact, for the most part they’re very uninvolved in his morning routines because he wants them to stay out of the way. Just give him the clothes and he’ll fuss with his hair and they’ll all be presentable in a bit. Until he’s had his coffee for the day, don’t talk to him. In fact, unless you’re bringing his coffee for the day, don’t talk to him.

‣ Speaking of Ryoma and his terrible sleep schedule, I like to think he is also a 3 a.m. snacker. And not just like, a small snacker — heavy snacks. The reason he knows how to cook is at least partially because he needs to cook his own 3 a.m. meals. His sleep schedule is so bad and his eating schedule isn’t much better. He gets wrapped up in whatever he’s doing and then suddenly eight hours have passed, and all he’s had is a cup of tea. So he goes out to search for and prep midnight eats. Admittedly, he’s a little embarrassed that he does this — especially because, per Revelation, Xander won’t. stop. catching. him. (“Listen — if you would like a helping of beef curry, just ask instead of skulking around in the dark in such a manner!”)

‣ Kinda prefers not being called by his royal title when he can help it. In the Japanese version of Birthright, he actually tells Scarlet to call him by his first name when his identity is revealed (approximations because I am working from memory here, but… ENG: "You may simply call me Lord Ryoma", JPN: "Ryoma is fine"). For close friends, Ryoma will often just ask people to call him by his first name. The title is fine and everything, he cherishes it because it is representative so much and it is technically a gift from his parents, but there’s a certain ease that comes to talking to people without it. It’s like the equivalent of actually being able to let it go for a little bit when his friends don’t feel the need to call him “lord” and “milord”. Honestly, he’ll even allow cutesy nicknames, too… but they do make him a little embarrassed. He’ll never get used to Camilla calling him by her variation of pet names. Just Ryoma is fine, why does she insist on things like ‘honey bun’? (The answer: she likes that it makes him flustered.)

‣ Of all of the Hoshidan royal siblings, it is the most difficult to make him cry, but let it be known that it is not as difficult to make him cry as you think it might be. Still pretty hard, but certain things can and do get the water works flowing. He just also tries rather viciously to deny the tears, so by the end of it when he finally does start to cry, his face is usually quite pink and he’s really trying to hide behind his hair. He finds crying really embarrassing and tries to avoid doing it in public at all costs, but is more likely to allow it if it’s for happy occasions. Like if one of his siblings was getting married? Then it’s okay to be a little glassy-eyed. They’re worth it.

[byakuyasdarling]

『 ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴀɢᴀᴍɪ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ {ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ} 』

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎: First childhood friends, to a one-sided rivalry, and now close once more.

It’s been almost a year since Freya and Byakuya fell in love at their former high school, Green Hills, and are now attending Hope’s Peak Academy. And yet, they still cannot admit in words what they feel for one another.

❝ 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. ❞ — 𝘍. 𝘚𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘵 𝘍𝘪𝘵𝘻𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘥

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡ — Short Fic

[ Okay to Reblog — reblogs are appreciated :) ]

Two sat within a nook of a wide expanse, obscured by the metaphorical labyrinth of intertwining bookcases and the shadows they cast from the warm glow of dusk. There was an intimacy in the dimly lit and confined space, as each shallow breath became audible as the sound reverberates around the nook. The two read silently while indulging in their quiet affection, being engulfed in the plush fabric of bean bags — the young female’s idea, of course. Her other half, the taller male, pulls the chain of an antique lamp situated next to them — the light’s warm hues flooding the secluded space.

The girl places her delicate hand atop his, causing him to tense slightly before clumsily grasping at her fingers with his, letting his thumb rub against the side of her palm.

“Freya…” he murmurs, before gripping her hand tighter, “this… we can’t have this.”

Freya makes a soft sound, almost of pain. “No… no… we can. Don’t be like that, Byakuya.”

He exhales somewhat heavily, shaking his head. “It’s not just about your desires, Freya.”

“— Our desires, Byakuya.” she corrects, as he consequently sighs.

“Our desires.” Byakuya repeats rather reluctantly. “I’m sure you need no reminder of our positions, regardless. We can’t have this.” He squeezes her hand tighter on that last word, almost painfully so, yet the passion his gesture communicates is blatantly for her.

She mulls over her options, but decides on a rhetorical to force him to articulate and justify his position, “Why?” she asks.

“I’m not playing mind games, Orator,” the coldness is apparent in his tone. She looks at him a bit wistfully, though he avoids any eye contact and vulnerability, guilt, or regret that may ensue by merely looking at her hurt expression.

“Byakuya… talk to me, look at me… please…” the desperation triggers his protective instinct for her, snapping his gaze to hers instantaneously; his eyes can’t help but soften. Damn it.

“I cannot go against my family and it’s traditions that have lasted generations. This is how we’ve survived, this is how we stay in power. This? Us? It holds no benefit to my family. It is weakness.”

“Is that what 'us' is to you, Byakuya? Merely a point of weakness?”

“If that will stop your pointless dribble, then yes.” he cuts. Silence follows his remark as Freya blankly stares at him, knowing that was an obvious cop-out. With a dismissive “Tch”, he continues, “Even if I chose to pursue you, do you really think I could actually escape the shadow of my family? Or the expectations of society? So what if it is all archaic and outdated? It works.”

“Yes, actually. Byakuya, you’re the heir, they rely on you now. They can’t get rid of you, they can’t replace you, and they can’t dismiss you. You make the rules now. Do you even hear yourself? You’re letting them dictate your life, you’re acting powerless!”

“Powerless?” A hint of venom slithers its way off his tongue. “I’m not powerless.”

“Stop acting like it then.” However firm Freya sounds now, there was an undercurrent of care in her voice. She dials back to a softer tone — it’s hard for her to be so angry or even argue. “They control and abuse you like a tool. You owe them nothing. If they don’t like it, they can deal with it because they’re the problem, not you.”

“Abuse? That a rather bold claim, I hope you can back it up.” he scoffs.

“They never parented you, they never treated you with kindness. What did they actually do for you except giving you wealth? They use you and you know it.”

If it were anyone else, he’d demand an apology for such accusations. But this is Freya, he can’t falsify some conjecture about the grandness of his family — or that cold hard discipline was a gift to make him a dedicated, efficient man. Byakuya wants to say that, wants to think that, wants to believe that… but such is cognitive dissonance, which goes against his principles of honesty to her. Because she’d see through it in an instant; she would never believe it, hence speaking lies benefits no one.

So instead, they stare at one another in a perpetual, solemn silence. Their deep, exhausted breathing and her whimpers bounce around the nook, echoing and magnifying the sound of heartbreak. He can’t stand the look in her eyes, the tears obscuring her starry eyes he has looked into over many years… over many iterations of herself; yet she always remained soft and kind, yet he always loved each and every version of who she is. And in that moment, he isn’t the man his father groomed him to be, he was a lost boy longing to be found, and wanted to hold the hand of the little girl he called his first friend, his only friend, and his only love. He swallows a lump in his throat, breaking the minute of quiet.

“What do you see in me?”

Part of her wants to lash out and run, distancing herself from the situation. Part of her wants to frame it as ineffectual with pretty conjecture with words like glass diamonds — but when faced with the hard malice of reality, a counterfeit diamond shatters and the beauty along with it, leaving only the hurtful truth. Freya meets his eyes with her own, the steely blue of his has lost their lustre. In that brief instance, she finally realises he’s hurting too… and badly. His eyes resemble that of a wounded animal far more than the predatory gleam he usually possesses.

“Everything… I see everything.” Her voice is reduced to a gentle whisper, weak and fragile — passionate still, yet destitute of the oratory prowess that cemented her speaking talent as ‘ultimate’. “But what I see most, is a loyal, principled man who will always do what’s right. But I also see a lonely man, and a man who never got the chance to grow outside of his family. I see a man who still needs to find himself and come to terms with the fact he isn’t a machine. And I know you, Byakuya. Because I’ve always known you, ever since we were children. I still see that boy in you, and he is crying.”

Byakuya sits in the quiet left after she spoke, perhaps for a little too long judging by her pleading eyes — but he starts gently rubbing his thumb up against her palm again. Finally, he forces out an answer.

“We first met here, in this library…”

Freya nods gently in an encouraging manner and a gentle, small smile, “Yes, of course.”

“We were so different.”

“Not really.”

Byakuya takes a moment to think, “Perhaps not.”

…

“Freya?”

“Yes, Byakuya?”

“I'll make sure we always stay together, I promise.”

[musicinstrumentsins]

9 Things That Will Make You Rethink to Know About the Clarinet

The clarinet is a fascinating instrument with its graceful curves and emotive sound that has made it a cornerstone of the musical world. Beyond its role in creating familiar melodies, the woodwinds hold a rich history and unique qualities that make it a compelling subject of study.

Here are 9 intriguing facts that will open your eyes to the clarinet's depth and versatility, and leave you with a newfound appreciation for this remarkable instrument.

1. A Register Rainbow: Unlike most woodwinds, the clarinet boasts a unique range with distinct names for each register. The lowest notes are reminiscent of its ancestor - the chalumeau. It resides in the aptly named "Chalumeau Register." As you move up, you encounter the "Throat Tones," followed by the bright, trumpet-like "Clarino Register." Finally, the highest notes reach the stratospheric "Altissimo Register," demanding exceptional breath control. Mastering these transitions and fingerings specific to each register is a challenge that keeps clarinetists on their toes.

2. The Twelfth Night Surprise: Unlike its other cousins that typically overblow an octave when you push the notes, the woodwind has a trick up its sleeve. When you engage the register key, the lower notes jump a surprising twelfth. So, a low E magically becomes a middle B-flat! This quirky characteristic adds another layer of complexity to mastering the instrument.

3. A Family Affair: The Bb clarinet might be the most familiar, but it's just one member of a vibrant family. The higher-pitched Eb soprano and alto clarinets add a touch of brilliance, while the mellow bass woodwind brings warmth to the low end. There's even a contrabass version, a gentle giant that produces earth-shaking notes. This diverse family allows composers to paint rich sonic landscapes.

4. Mozart's Mysterious Muse: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's love affair with the clarinet is well-documented. He composed a wealth of concertos and chamber works featuring the instrument. But some historians believe there might be more to the story. The rise of Freemasonry, with its emphasis on wind instruments, might have influenced Mozart's compositions, further solidifying the gear’s place in the orchestra.

5. Material Matters: While most of these woodwinds are crafted from grenadilla wood, a type of African blackwood, that's not always the case. In the early days, clarinets were made from a variety of woods, including boxwood and rosewood. Today, some musicians opt for synthetic materials like hard rubber or composite resins. These offer advantages like greater durability and resistance to moisture, making them ideal for marching bands or outdoor performances. However, regardless of the material used for carving a woodwind, it is a delicate gear and needs the protection of a dedicated clarinet insurance plan.

6. The Multitasking Marvel: The versatility of this piece extends far beyond the concert hall. It's a mainstay in jazz ensembles, adding soulful riffs and playful improvisations. Klezmer music, with its roots in Eastern European Jewish traditions, relies heavily on the gear’s expressive capabilities. And who can forget the iconic solo in Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue," blurring the lines between classical and jazz?

7. A Transpositional Trendsetter: The Bb persona might be the standard bearer, but its music is often written in a different key. This is because the clarinet is a transposing instrument. The Eb soprano type is another example. Understanding transpositions is a crucial skill for clarinetists, allowing them to play music written for other instruments or in different keys.

8. The Three (or Four) Clarinet Challenge: Back in the 18th century, a single clarinetist's life wasn't easy. Orchestras often required them to switch between multiple options in different keys throughout a performance. Imagine juggling a Bb, A, Eb, and maybe even a C type – a true test of agility and mastery! So, if you own one, get it covered under a comprehensive clarinet insurance policy.

9. Beyond the Single Reed: The single-reed mouthpiece is a defining characteristic of the clarinet family. But there's a lesser-known relative: the basset horn. This instrument also played with a single reed, boasts a curved neck and an extended range, offering a unique and mellow sound. Mozart, unsurprisingly, was a big fan of the basset horn, composing several works specifically for it.

[pollencoveredman]

something less delicate

mac mcdonald has always liked when people rely on him. no matter what for, important or not, he likes to feel needed. like he has a purpose, even if only for a short while.

which is why when he starts to notice he and dennis are depending on each other less and less, he freaks out big-time. it’s also why he’s laying on the couch watching jeopardy reruns, contemplating if he should check up on dennis in his room again yet. he’s been feeling shitty all day, and mac knows exactly why.

sure, he feels bad about slightly poisoning him, but it’s not like he’ll die or anything, right? it’s just his stupid sensitive body overreacting like always — not that dennis would ever admit that.

it’s when he hears a few rough-sounding coughs coming from dennis’s room that he decides he’ll keep him company for a minute, though he’s not entirely sure he’ll be welcomed.

“den?” he says softly, knocking on his bedroom door. “hey, den, can i come in?”

he gets a groan in response, followed by another cough. mac frowns and knocks again, a little louder this time.

“go away, mac.” dennis’s voice is hoarse and muffled behind his door, though mac can hear how exhausted he sounds. 

he sighs heavily, knowing he’s not going to get anywhere if he doesn’t just get this over and done with. “alright, i’m coming in.” he announces, preparing himself for the inevitable outrage and berating when he enters without permission.

or not, he thinks to himself, blinking in surprise when dennis merely glances up and mumbles something to himself, barely lifting his head from the pillow. he’s curled up on his bed in the fetal position, shivering in his sweats and t-shirt on top of the covers.

“hey,” mac whispers, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “do you, um… do you want me to get you anything?”

dennis shakes his head, curling further into himself as a violent shiver wracks his body. mac swallows, and, god, is he guilty. he feels awful, because dennis feels awful, and it’s his fault.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, though he knows it’s a stupid question.

“too cold.”

mac snorts. “dude, that’s ‘cause you’re laying on top of your sheets. you’re meant to get under them if you wanna be warm.” he reaches for a throw blanket on the floor, but dennis weakly bats his hand away before he can get it. 

“you… don’t want it?” mac questions, eyebrow raised in confusion.

“too warm.”

it’s not unlike dennis to be this picky, but it’s also not unlike mac to get pissed off at things he’s used to by now. “my god, dennis, you are… so annoying. c’mon, just this one; it’ll make you warmer, i promise. it won’t be too hot.”

dennis just nods. he’s too tired to protest, and if he’s honest, mac’s probably right — he just gets a kick out of being difficult sometimes.

mac carefully drapes the blanket over dennis, and has to stop himself from tucking him in. “all good?” he asks as he absent-mindedly brushes a loose curl from dennis’s forehead.

“yeah.”

“good.” mac smiles tightly. “you sure you don’t want anything? like, do you want another shake, or—” he catches himself. maybe he should cool it on the shakes for now. dennis is already feeling bad enough, and he’s certainly getting somewhere with the dependency aspect of things, so he’ll give him a break for while. “actually, i gave that last one to charlie.” he says, as if he can’t make another one, and he hopes dennis is too out of it to care.

“i need tissues,” dennis mumbles. “the pollen’s getting to me.”

mac thinks for a second, crafting a mental image of their medicine cabinet in his head. “i think we ran out, so you’re out of luck there. sorry, buddy.”

dennis groans. “nothing then,” he says quietly, an edge of annoyance to his voice. he sits up slowly, sniffling and coughing into his elbow.

“aw, den,” mac frowns. “you really don’t sound good, dude.”

he wonders if it’s obvious that he’s doing this on purpose. he wonders if dennis realises that this migraine, the stomach cramps, the overall shitty feeling plaguing him aren’t all from fucking pollen.

“hey, why don’t you lay back down and get some rest, hm?” mac suggests, gently patting dennis’s leg under the blanket. “you’ll feel more better in the morning if you get a good night’s sleep.”

dennis shrugs in response, clearly not 100% listening. either he’s too tired to hear what mac’s saying, or he really just doesn’t give a shit. 

“c’mon, den, go to sleep. you’re, like, super sick. you need your rest.”

“not sick. just pollen.” dennis insists. “i’m a god. gods don't get sick.” his statement is immediately contradicted by another set of painful-sounding coughs, followed by a sneeze stifled into his elbow.

mac winces sympathetically and rubs his hand up and down dennis’s back as he catches his breath again. “god bless,” he mutters, rubbing little circles into his shoulder blade with his index finger. 

he wonders for a second if dennis might be coming down with something else on top of the poisoning. if he is, then goddamn, he feels bad. alternatively, maybe it is just pollen.

“i don’t need to be blessed, mac; i’m a god, i just told you.” he complains, flopping face-down onto his pillow. 

“right, of course.” mac sighs heavily. “look, just go to sleep, dude. it’ll help, really.”

dennis is quiet for a second, before he pats the side of the bed next to him, gesturing for mac to come over. he quirks an eyebrow, slightly confused, but obliges anyways. 

“what’s up?” he says softly as dark brown eyes meet blue-green.

“stay with me,” dennis says in that whiny voice he’s been talking in all day. “just, like, until i fall asleep. please.”

mac can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as dennis curls into his side, gently carding his fingers through his hair.

“i’m sorry you’re feeling so bad, dude.”

and he is sorry. he’s really sorry, because this whole thing is all his fault, and as much as he likes when dennis needs him, he hates seeing him so miserable. 

“s’alright,” dennis sniffles. “not your fault.”

mac swallows. he knows he should tell him, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. instead, he settles for pulling the blanket a little over his own lap, making himself comfortable.

“get your own blanket, thief, i’m cold.”

“shut up and go to sleep, dumbass.”

they lay together in silence for a while, mac keeping dennis warm as he quietly drifts off next to him. 

nice, he thinks to himself. mission accomplished.

[bluerose5]

On the topic of turian headcanons...

I like to think that a turian’s talons are a point of pride, kind of like their fringe. Size doesn't matter so much as cleanliness and upkeep. Instead of relying heavily on utensils during meals, they rely more on their talons, due to having a mostly meat/protein-based diet. Now, I don't mean that in the "feral turian/tearing their meat to shreds" kind of way, but they approach their meal preparation with discipline like with most other things in turian society. Some of them even treat it as an art.

Being able to cleanly carve and cut one's food shows off the sharpness of one's talons, whereas dull edges are often looked down upon during meals and public events. Typically, when eating, it's important to note that they only use utensils for support. Since cleanliness is expected, turians tend to eat solely with their hands, delicately pinching cuts of meat between their talons to feed both themselves and others. As a matter of fact, mishandling and shredding the food demonstrates a lack of control and —if sharing with others— a lack of consideration for those with whom the turian is dining with.

Although turians seem to avoid some forms of physical contact in public, it is not uncommon to witness turians feeding each other, given their society's focus on service to others above self. Preference differs from one turian to the next. Some will only feed close family, friends, and other loved ones. In contrast, other turians will feed anyone who they dine with, even strangers and acquaintances. Soldiers eating together often do so because some turians believe that it strengthens bonds between them individually and as a unit.

[husbandomail-archive]

Hello There! Found you while I was hunting for Guzma headcanons. I was wondering if I could make a request for more, specifically if he found out that his S/O was a multi-regional Champion?

I love Guzma SO MUCH I'm always so excited when someone requests him dfghjhgfd

Over the years, Guzma has learned that the only thing he can trust is his feelings— and when he looks at you, something feels different. You’d said you were new to Alola, and your Pokémon had been young when the two of you met, but… you didn’t carry yourself like a brand-new trainer. And there was no way a trainer with such little battle experience could absolutely trounce him over and over like that. He has to know more about you.

And then the battles are over. Alola— the entire world— is safe again, at least for the moment. Now Guzma has nothing better to do than waste his time with you. Although he relies on them heavily, he’s never been one to voice his feelings; instead of saying he wants to hang out, you’re just constantly and conveniently running into him all the time. That slowly turns into him buying you a drink at the Pokémon center while you wait out the rain together; he starts challenging your Alolan throne, more to see you again than because he wants the title. He’s still too nervous to approach the topic of what your relationship truly is, so for now, it hangs in the balance.

As Champion, you’re constantly caught up in all sorts of work, so late-night meals at 24-hour diners become more and more common. Guzma joins you, of course, spotting you through the restaurant’s glass windows and deciding to drop himself right into your open booth. You’re so comfortable together that you don’t even need to greet each other anymore, just sitting quietly as you scarf down your meals.

Washing down your mouthful of food with a swig of your drink, you’re the first to break the silence. “I’m gonna be heading back to Hoenn in the morning.”

Guzma stops mid-chew, his eyes wide, sheer confusion painted across his face. “Back? Is that where you’re from? I didn’t know that.”

You smile across the table at him— it isn’t often you admit this to people. It’s always a blessing when you’re unrecognized. “I’m the Champion there too, actually.”

Silence. Guzma’s eyes get wider. Your grin gets sharper. “I’m also the Unova Champion, y’know. And Kalos. And—”

“What?!” Guzma’s voice pierces the delicate 1 a.m. air of the all-night diner. You laugh loudly as his jaw hangs open. “The hell you mean Champion? How many regions? No wonder you kicked my ass—”

Flustered now, he slams his jaw shut, staring intently at his now-empty plate. He couldn’t believe he’d been spending so much time with someone so much better—

You hum as you reach for your drink again, your eyes slowly wandering up to Guzma’s embarrassed face. “Y’know,” you start quietly, “you could come with me, if you wanted to.”

[echo-of-sounds]

love languages

Small headcanons on the love languages of Aizawa, Toshi, Hizashi, Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog.

Aizawa Shouta

Aizawa’s is definitely any form of physical touch. It’s difficult for him to vocalize his thoughts and feelings so he relies on his body. And his body is nothing but warmth and comfort. 

Your touch isn’t only comforting, but it’s grounding and reliable as well. After a nightmare, an anxiety attack, or just a difficult day, feeling your hands and hearing your heartbeat is a constant reassurance he’s safe. The flashback or nightmare wasn’t true. Your body is what’s real and present. It makes the panic go away.

Shouta also uses physical touch as a way of communication. He knows it’s hard to ask for help or to say you need a break from the crowd. It happens to him. It can happen to anyone. He’ll squeeze your thigh, silently asking if you’re okay. You don’t need to verbalize a response. Simply shake your head for ‘no’ or smile for ‘yes.’  When he starts feeling overwhelmed, he’ll tightly grip your hand, asking if you and he can leave.

He likes receiving words of affirmation. They don't have to be flowery words pomped up with ridiculous adjectives. That would get annoying to him. Tell him you love him when he gets home. Whisper how much he means to you when he’s laying on your chest. Hearing your delicate praise for him just existing in your life means so much. It warms his heart. Not that he’d ever say it though.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshinori is a mix of quality time and physical touch. His life has been bombarded by cameras and people. Getting time with only you is critical to your relationship. On Saturday nights, turn your phones off, relax on the couch with a glass of wine, listening to soft music, and talk. It doesn’t matter about what- your week, your jobs, your current projects, a recent movie you saw- just talk to each other. A partner actively listening with a smile on their face is something he never thought he would get. 

Touching is simple but important. Lean on his shoulder as you watch TV. Kiss his knuckles when you're holding his hand. He'll sit behind you and wrap his arms around you, resting his head on your upper back. Just cuddle. Just let him feel cherished and treasured and safe. Your body against him is the most secure thing to him.

You’ll notice there is a small sprinkling of words of affirmation. After a difficult night, a note will be on the counter, complimenting and encouraging you for the day. Toshi’s texts are full of love and gratitude and cute pictures to make you smile. He doesn’t realize he does it half the time. It’s become an instinct to check in with you throughout the day.

Yamada Hizashi

Words… just a lot of words of affirmation. Sometimes, he doesn’t expect you to listen. He knows he babbles on and on. But sometimes, his words catch your attention. He’ll talk about you, how much you’ve done for him, and how much he adores you. And when you sit down and actually engage in his interests, he bursts. If you recognize his loving words, it’ll only grow. 

It should be noted that physical touch is also important. Though he isn’t as vocal about it. The way he squeezes you isn’t him being clingy. It’s him needing to feel your body as a way to recharge his energy. Your importance and willingness to just be in the moment with him calms his often racing mind and eases his muscles.

If yours isn’t receiving gifts, it might become just that. Trinkets, candies, toys fall out of his pockets. Whenever he sees something he thinks you might enjoy, he scoops it up, even if you only put the little fairy statue on the shelf. He wants you to know he appreciates you and is thinking of your happiness. Your smile is beautiful and he wants to see it as much as possible.

Toyomitsu Taishiro

Taking walks, cooking, and going to museums is important quality time to Taishiro. They’re not big, venturous dates. They’re only simple times you can spend with each other. Tip his nose with cake batter while you’re trying out a new recipe. Kissing, dancing, and laughing until you’re nearly peeing your pants is something he wouldn’t want with anyone else.

He clears parts of his schedule to assure he’ll get enough time. If it’s been a while since he’s had distraction-free, one-on-one time with you, he starts to feel weird. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you or gets angry if you’re busy. He just wants you. Your laugh, your questions, your love hooks him and when he’s deprived of it, he’s left wanting and waiting.

Receiving gifts lets him know you were thinking of him. They don’t have to be big. In fact, he prefers smaller, near ‘unremarkable’ ones: a coffee mug with a little bag of candies, homemade bread, or just a new box of UNO cards. He’s always beyond enthusiastic when you give anything to him. And he’ll plant so many smooches on your cheek.

Gang Orca

Whispered words of affirmation in a dark room while you’re snuggled together makes him so warm. Though he’s grateful for any words, telling him he’s beautiful and you love him for him nearly boils his heart. He can’t blush but he will nuzzle your neck, hiding from your smile and tender words.

Kugo gives acts of service. He wants to help you with everything. He can change the light bulb. He’ll throw your clothing into the washer when you’re tired. He carries the bags in from the car. Helping you with everyday tasks is how he wants you to know he cares. He wants to take care of you. He wants you to know how important you are. Because you are his top priority.

Do it back to him and he’s flustered. People don’t take care of him. He’s strong, a top Hero, and a leader people follow. They never think of helping him in smaller, more meaningful ways. After a long, tiring day, he still wants to cook for you. Tell him to take a bath and relax while you make dinner. Throw his Hero costume in the wash for a deep clean. And rub body salve into his skin when he gets out. He appreciates your full-blown attention. The effort, as little as it is, is unable to be explained by him.

Physical touch weighs heavily in Kugo’s mind. It’ll take a while for him to be comfortable with a lot of touching. Like when you take care of him, he’s thankful for your mere presence. And like Toshinori, intimacy isn’t something he’d think he’d get in life. So when you ask to lay on his chest to fall asleep or kiss his knuckles as he’s leaving for work, it washes over his being, registering that someone genuinely wants to be with him. 

Hound Dog

Ryo doesn’t need grand adventures and brainy words. He merely needs you next to him. Quality time on the couch or going out for drinks on a Wednesday afternoon is more than exceptional. It takes some time for him to grow attracted or attached to someone and he savors any nighttime hangouts with you- no complications, no distractions, just you and him.

Not to compare him to a canine, because he’s still clearly a person, but those times build your bond much like when someone gets a new dog. Mutual respect and relaxed, entertaining time together assure him you’re actually in the relationship, to be in the relationship. You aren’t looking for a hookup or using him to pass the time until someone better comes along.

Give him gifts. He won't know what to do. Whether it's a new flannel or a movie he really wanted. It means a lot. Few people have taken the time to listen to what he needs and when you come home, giving him a better brush for his fur you happened across, his heart flutters. It’s a new, alien, but very satisfying feeling.

He’d also welcome any snuggles (physical touch).

[razieltwelve]

Slime on a Rock (Final Rose)

“It’s slime on a rock.” The Dia-Farron tilted her head to one side. “This doesn’t make any sense. Can you run the sensor sweep again?”

Her hamster dutifully complied, and she gave a shrug of her massive shoulders as her sensors returned the same readings as before.

“Huh...” The Dia-Farron rubbed her chin. “So this slime on a rock has the same amount of Aura as a hundred people?” Her gaze shifted to the other rocks in the vicinity. “And there’s just... more of it all over the place?”

Her hamster nodded before adding her thoughts.

“Yes, it would explain why the local wildlife was so hostile when we approached. This slime must form an important part of their diet.” The Dia-Farron crouched down and took a sample of the slime. “Hmm... it seems to be packed with nutrients and minerals. Just this little bit is probably enough to keep a person going for a whole day.”

The hamster sniffed at the slime and gave a low rumble.

“It smells weird? Well, don’t eat any just yet. We need to do further analysis. Your digestive system should be able to handle just about anything, but there’s no need to take any chances when we’ve got so much equipment at our disposal.” The Dia-Farron took a few more sample. “Well get these analysed back on the ship. If this slime is packed with Aura, as well as nutrients and minerals, it could definitely do a lot of good.”

X     X     X

Nutri-Slime was discovered during the reign of Her Imperial Majesty Averia VII on a planet along the galactic rim. That planet was essentially a death world, where vicious animals of all shapes and sizes did their level best to kill each other and anything else that showed up. There was evidence of earlier Grimm incursion, but the Grimm appear to have been wiped out by the local wildlife. Unfortunately, there was no evidence of advanced civilisation, with the closest thing being various mammals that worked in groups to handle large threats.

As for the slime itself, it was first noticed when the Dia-Farron picked up powerful but stationary Aura signatures. They then found a variety of different animals licking slime-covered rocks. After shooing away the animals, the Dia-Farron discovered that the slime was Aura rich and packed with nutrients and minerals.

In fact, just a spoonful of the slime contained all of the nutrition needed to sustain an average person for an entire day. Unfortunately, testing also revealed that the slime tasted awful, which might explain why the animals licking the slime were basically crying while doing so.

Of course, the sheer energy density of the slime meant it was a suitable backup food supply for animals that might otherwise struggle to secure the proper nutrition, given the murderous nature of the planet. The slime itself grew fairly rapidly and relied on its abysmally awful taste to drive away all but the most determined animals.

The reason it did not want to drive away all predators was because it needed to strike a delicate balance. The slime required proteins found in the saliva of the animals that ate it to multiply, but paleontological evidence found across the planet suggested that tastier variants of the slime had been eaten at a rate faster than they could reproduce. A nasty taste without being poisonous was the strategy that eventually led to long-term success.

Nutri-Slime has since been heavily investigated with the Dia-Farron using bio-smithing and gene-forging to improve the taste of the slime without damaging its nutritional contents. Strangely enough, Nutri-Slime does not produce feelings of fullness or satiation, which has made it a poor substitute for food on its own since whoever eats it will still feel hungry. Instead, it can either be used as an additive to nutrient-poor food or as an emergency energy-provider in situations where stopping to eat is not wise (e.g., combat).

Experimentation also revealed that when processed in a certain manner, Nutri-Slime is a powerful hallucinogenic, which might explain why some of the animals who ate it weren’t just crying but actually sobbing like the world ended. Thankfully, it has proven possible to remove the particular genes that allow this to occur while still retaining the value of Nutri-Slime. This hasn’t stopped certain people from trying to sneak onto the planet to harvest original Nutri-Slime to get high. This, of course, has led to people getting mauled to death by the local wildlife, which has in turn led to an Imperial ban on non-authorised travel to the planet, which is currently policed by the Imperial Fleet.

[georgiapeach30513]

i need fluffy nonsense to recover after that one. who’s Squish’s cousin bestie or Ellie and Papa nonsense or anything or the floofs pls my little heart is broken at Able crying over is Posie mama 😭

So Squish does have a bestie, but it’s not exactly her cousin. That’s not to say that she doesn’t play with her cousins. But her absolute best friend for life…Birdie Mae Rain Adler. Oddly enough their parents have um…well, they got real close. And even when they didn’t have extra curricular activities, they remain close friends. Iris would DIE if she knew what those four were doing! Iris Rogers would never!

Why do you think there’s been so much fluff lately! This ordeal is going to get worse in ways, more dramatic, chaotic, and won’t have a conclusion until next week.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Two Turtle Doves

Summary: The Turtle Doves

Pairings: Squish X Birdie

Rating: 🥺🥺

Warnings: Fable and Birdie Mae, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 700

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Papa & Mimi’s Grandbabies Masterlist

You knew the moment that Arleigh had told you that she, too was expecting that your babies would be the best of friends. With only six weeks in between their due dates, you loved comparing bellies, talking about what you were experiencing, listening to her talk about what was going on with her body, and just overall being giddy about the dual pregnancies.

You and her nearly talked everyday, and even Blade and Beau were talking more. Blade relied heavily on his sister’s pregnancies and what he should do comfort you.

You loved that your man was surrounded by a bunch of women, because he really did know what to do to make sure you were feeling great.

You of course were the first to find out the sex. Calling up Arleigh just to squeal with her about your little red bell pepper. That’s the size that Blade told you she was. The two of you even crying when you told her the name you had decided on.

But six weeks later when Arleigh found out that she was having a girl, it was sealed that Fable Pearl and Birdie Mae Rain would be the best of friends, bosom buddies, sisters, pals, but then Beau said, “Like turtle doves.”

You and Arleigh turn and look at him so fast. Your giggles almost instantaneously stopping. “You know, two turtle doves. They mate for life and represent love, friendship, faithfulness, purity. They’ll be friends for life. The Turtle Doves.”

“You stop Beau Adler,” Arleigh stars to get teary and only halfway annoyed he pulls her onto his shoulder. “Don’t you say anything. I can’t help it. I just cry all the damn time. But…our little turtle doves.”

And that was when Beaumont Franklin Adler dubbed those two little unborn babies, The Turtle Doves

And when it came time for Fable to be born, Arleigh was there. Even getting a reaction from Fable when she held her over the swell of her belly, and Birdie Mae’s nest. And goodness, when Birdie Mae kicked around at Fable sitting on top of her temporary home, you both took it as a sign for their love for one another.

It was no different when Birdie Mae was born. While still an infant, she did try to find Birdie’s hand to hold. Whenever you would hang out together Blade’s squishy girl and Beau’s sweet dove would sleep beside each other, that is when their daddies weren’t trying to hold them.

Your daughter always being of the fluffy variety, while Birdie was a sweet delicate swan like her mother. And the two of them never cried. They would whine, they would pout, but no tears.

When they were old enough to sit up, Fable and Birdie Mae would carry on the sweetest of conversations with each other. Animatedly moving their eyebrows and throwing their hands out while they babbled.

When they started to crawl, Birdie Mae could crawl, while the squishy Fable scooted. Her belly was always getting in the way. But Birdie Mae would turn around with a sweet scrunchy nose smile and wait on her friend.

But when those two started walking, and walking well enough, their hands were always holding each other. Being the sweetest of sweet friends.

If one of them fell and got hurt, it was like the other felt the pain and would sit with them, brushing their hair out of their face. These two when together were inseparable. Preferring to hang out at the farm, and Arleigh and Beau were always getting some kind of animal. Remy following behind the two Turtle Doves while they waddled around.

You knew that the two of them had found their soul mate. Their lifelong friend, and of course you and Arleigh couldn’t help but to be so giggly about it.

“So,” Beau starts, leaning back in his spot, nursing a beer that he brewed, while Arleigh leans over on him. The two girls playing off to the side with Remy. “When are we planning the next one? Let try to do this friendship thing again.”

Blade takes a deep breath, inhaling slowly. “As long as our kids don’t fall in love. I’m fine with planning a second. Or third. Or fourth. Or…”

“I’m out,” you answer.

“Yeah I’m good with two,” Arleigh responds leaving the men pouting. “When your stomach stretches to a watermelon, we’ll talk.”

Masterlist

[randombtsprincessa]

Brush His Picture

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Words: 12.6k I am sorry for getting carried away...again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst cause it’s me

Rating: General!

Summary: Your job of writing a bio for Kim Namjoon is thrown for a spin when feelings get involved...

Warnings: It’s Namjoon. I have gushed. I am not sorry.

A/N: Firstly a warm and cuddly hug for @wynniewright​ for whom this fic is written. I enjoyed our conversations and look forward to more of those! Secondly a big hug and heaps of thanks to @casuallyimagining​ for the gif banner because I suck at those. Thirdly thanks to @thebtswritersclub​ for hosting the wonderful exchange!

Smeraldo Books, in your opinion, was the best building in the small corporate complex located just a little walking distance from your little apartment. It was slate gray; concrete and glass which gave off a cold, aloof appearance from outside, but when you entered it, it was rich creams, warm browns with tons of plants and flowers. The smell followed you, as you climbed up the floors, multicolored as should be the place where you entered new dimensions via books.

Your own floor was pastel blue, pine wood and deep tones of red and browns sprinkled here and there. If you looked hard, you’d find some pink nestled somewhere too. Today it was on your own desk. You had outdone yourself to be early today. You’d packed up everything you could think of in a sensible tote – notepad, tablet, pens, pencils, heck you’d even thrown in a sharpener and ruler scale. You’d grabbed your hello kitty travel mug, filled it with yummy hot chocolate with a touch of espresso and strode down the street to work.

You would be getting the first assignments of the incoming season today and since it was your first writing assignment overall, you wanted to make a good impression – a very good impression. Your pressed clothes and smart shoes were testament of your frazzled fluttering last night, preparing for today. Making sure you had everything; you took a deep breath and made to enter the conference room at the back of the floor.

Each floor had one, for on-floor calls and projects undertaken by the different subsets of the publishing house you worked for. Yours, in particular, was the same blue and pine, a long oval table in the centre with purple and blue mismatched chairs around it. Light streamed in clearly from the high wide windows, with glass animals on the sill throwing rainbows on the wall. In the very centre of the table was a vase, sporting the very flower that the company was named after. The ethereal blue petals blushing with pinks and violets at their veins curled delicately, recently sprayed to look dewy and fresh.

You adored these flowers; you had three pots of them at home.

***

Rena arrived at sharp 9:45. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek high ponytail that you were semi sure could cut if she – ahem, whipped her hair back and forth fast enough. You’d mentioned that during a drinking night, and had been friends since. She was your mentor in more ways than one, and you relied on her heavily, this being your first year at Smeraldo. Your appearance today would reflect on her too and you wanted her to know that she could trust you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” She smiled at you.

“Good morning, Rena. Any news for the morning?”

She shrugged, unbuttoning her navy suit. She crossed her legs. “I know seasonal meetings are important, but you don’t have to be quite so stressed about them.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry, you’ll ease into it.”

You sighed in relief. If Rena was this unbothered, you had absolutely no reason to worry.

Your steady breathing remained until about ten minutes, when at 9:55, the door was opened and the head walked in with her assistants and the other members of the floor. You shuffled to the front of your chair as the meeting commenced.

As Rena had said, it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Your head was chill enough when she presented spreadsheets, delegating people to watch the stats and curves before the real reason for the meeting was dealt with.

The ‘projects’ were the writing, the works, the foundation of Smeraldo. Every ‘project’ floor had three to four of those. The stars, who would usually grab the opportunity to head out there, do the work your creative writing professor preached about and bring in the digs. The rest of the floor was the sheep, handling excels and graphs – like commoners.

This season began with two fantasy drafts, both quickly given out to the oldest, most experienced Stars, no questions asked. They were to draft first, present later before Smeraldo published them under their banner.

“Right then,” She looked up. “Now, I don’t suppose you need to be reminded that last year we joined hands to collaborate with HYBE. It is an honor that they chose us and we intend to honor them right back, don’t we?” The words were intimidating enough for us to all nod.

“We have already worked with them so it should be easier for us to get going on the contract this time around. Right Kayla,”

We all turned to look at each other while there was silence from where the Head pointed.

***

As a part of the Smeraldo-HYBE collaboration, personal booklets for each member were released along with quarterly albums, as a sort of promotion. Last quarter, it was Min Yoongi. Now the big season project fish was Kim Namjoon. These works were separate from Smeraldo fictions but equally as important, and if the Head was to be taken seriously, even more so.

After all, BTS was worldwide famous. To do them wrong, would mean our name was mud.

Kayla was the third writer on your floor, senior to you and she had handled Mr. Min’s book. It was a given that she would take charge for the other member’s books as well…

…only…Kayla was absent…at a seasonal meeting…

The fuming ears of the floor Head suddenly told you that maybe you did have something to worry about. With all due respect to Rena, you quietly celebrated showing up an hour early.

“Where the hell is she? What’s going on?”

We stared back dumbly.

“She didn’t call in sick or called off today.” One of the assistants supplied helpfully but cowered when the Head glowered at her.

“Well, that’s all very well, but who do I brief now?”

“Not to worry, you can brief Y/N.”

There was a longer pause in which the members of your floor, simultaneously, turned to look at you. Your jaw nearly dropped, head whipping to look at Rena; the picture of ease. She looked at you and smiled.

To her credit, the Head looked equally thunderstruck. “I…Y/N?” she asked.

You looked around meekly. “Yes ma’am.”

She looked at you askance, before resolutely glancing at Rena. “You will watch her, yes?” At Rena’s nod, she turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N, I won’t remind you that this project is extremely important to Smeraldo. I would expect your utmost best, understand?” You quickly nodded your head.

“You will be meeting with Bang Sihyuk and Namjoon himself in two days. All information about the album and the HYBE workings will be in a dossier in your mail. Don’t disappoint me.” she cast another look at Kayla’s empty chair, sighed in annoyance before swiping her files over to her assistant.

“Until next time, people,”

When the room finally emptied, you immediately turned to Rena, “Why would you do that?” You demanded.

Rena looked exactly the opposite of how you felt. Stretched onto your nerves now lay the weight of the world, your world. You had been thrilled to get an internship at Smeraldo, working your entire life around the business and after scoring an actual job here you had never thought that one day so soon you’d be at the risk of losing it.

If Kim Namjoon’s book tanked – you were dead. Dead, dead and very much dead…

“I told you, Y/N, you worry too much. This job is probably the easiest ever and since Kayla decided not to show up…I mean, come on, you’re one of our writers…the job was bound to come to you. Head madam just needed some time before she came to you. I hurried the process up. Besides, how will you learn if you don’t actually do the work?”

“But…it’s Kim Namjoon…” You mumbled.

“He’s hardly going to bite your head off, Y/N. Chin up and head to the meeting like the champ you are. You’ll be fine.” She tipped your head back with her hand before walking out herself, leaving you to scurry to your desk, feeling nowhere near as consoled as you should’ve been.

***

Two days in and you were getting dressed up yet again. Only this time, your nerves were sparking like a frayed wire no one was paying enough attention to. You chose a simple but professional outfit, worrying if there was any way anyone could nitpick on it. You ended up switching to something much more formal (and in your opinion, stuffy) attire in the wee hours of the morning, unable to get back to sleep.

HYBE’s building was situated in one of the most upscale business locales in the city. You had to take a cab to get there, already deciding that no way would you have enough time if you took a bus or the train. Already the buttons on your top felt like an over-tight corset. Thankfully, you seemed respectful and important enough to the cab driver that he stepped on the gas pedal, having you step out on the pavement in front of the building with almost twenty minutes to spare. You swigged at the espresso chocolate mix in your cup before stuffing it back into your tote.

You could do this. You had all the qualifications…if not the experience.

You could not possibly screw up that bad, could you?

According to the dossier, the meeting was set in the lounge, somewhere comfortable and open, probably a request of Namjoon’s himself. You knew enough about the man to take a guess.

Inside the building, security quickly but thoroughly sorted you out. You were patted down by a friendly lady, who smiled as she scanned you out an ID and rifled through your purse. She spotted your Hello Kitty cup and chuckled, giving you a wink that had you blushing all the way to where you were supposed to meet – directions given very kindly.

Along the way you knew. You knew that if you ever had to change jobs, you would dearly love to take one at HYBE. The place was an eclectic mix of practical and fun. There were artist posters and records and awards sprinkled around, the most prominent being BTS of course. Sunny gold lined the areas, with crisp blues and greens.

You might have even passed a little park arena.

When you reached the lounge, a sprawling area of lush moss like carpets and pink and purple art work on peach walls, there were only two other people in. The ones you were here to meet.

You recognized Namjoon from the door itself.

Insanely tall and thickly built in all the right places, he stood at a window. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy khakis, a thin blue sweater hanging over his frame, hiding just how muscular he truly must be. Your lips twitched at the deep rose pink hue of his hair.

The other man must have been Mr. Sihyuk, grey suited and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, steadily going through sheaves of paper. Both men looked up at your knock on the glass doors.

Mr. Sihyuk stood up first, hand outstretched but his smile looked a little confused.

“Um, Miss Kayla…how nice to see you, again…”

It seemed like a question, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to place you and you froze. Your hand paused just a little away from his, eyes darting around to the Idol who joined his CEO.

“It was wonderful to have you with us again on the bio projects for the albums,” He continued, seeming unfazed by your gob-smacked face. “You did a brilliant job on Yoongi’s. I was sad to be unable to meet with you before.”

Oh…dear…they didn’t know it wasn’t Kayla who was going to be on the job. Suddenly you felt like sinking through the soft carpets, right underground. They probably had dossiers of their own, with Kayla’s name across them. They didn’t know that she had slept in that one day and they didn’t know that they were now stuck with you.

“I’m – I’m afraid there's some misunderstanding, Mr. Sihyuk. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m afraid Kayla was unavailable for the project.”

There was absolute silence on both ends after you finished. Mr. Sihyuk’s shoulders fell at your words, mouth parting as his eyes went scanning you again. This time you could distinctly feel him sizing you up. His eyebrows twitched up just so.

“Well then,” The other man, Kim Namjoon, the one you were supposed to write about, extended his hand. “I suppose we should rehash that welcome. Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Kim Namjoon. I look forward to working with you.”

You jolted a little, even stumbling forward to shake his hand, now thoroughly shaken out from your humiliated stupor.

“Forgive us, we must not have read the email citing the change.” Bang Sihyuk continued, spreading his hands genially.

“Don’t worry about it. These things can happen.” You fiddled with your bag strap with a tight smile, ignoring the urge to sway on the balls of your feet. The thick tension had still not dissipated as the three of you stood in a triangle, wondering who was going to make the first move.

It had to be you, shockingly. “So, um, shall we begin?”

You were shown a plush red armchair, Namjoon and Bang-PD taking the matching sofa as you were given the preliminary data. A small biographical book of sorts, more of a booklet if you were being honest; talking about an important segment in Namjoon’s life and his process and journey throughout the inspiration and creative take of the upcoming album. Standard, new age stuff…same as Yoongi’s…you already had Kayla’s old notes on the write up forwarded in your email.

You scribbled in small notes in your notepad while Mr. Sihyuk slid a small calendar across. “This is the tentative production and release schedule that we want to follow. There is, of course, plenty of time for you to follow Namjoon around and get a feel of the work environment, the studio life and of course, Namjoon himself. You’ll have quite a lot of time to write. The book will be issued and launched before the press conference and promotions will be done along with availability of the bio in stores.”

You studied the calendar before slipping it into your bag. “Thank you, Mr. Sihyuk. This is most helpful. We’ll be starting work from next week then?”

You were met with nods.

“Well, I’ll be off. It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/L/N. Please, forgive us about the whole Kayla mishap.” Bang-PD stood, you and Namjoon following and with a parting handshake he marched out of the lounge.

You began to slide in your pens and notes back in the bag when you noticed that Namjoon hadn’t followed his CEO out. Instead he stayed back; hands behind his back, watching you pack up.

You glanced up at him in question, meeting his impish small smile with a confused one of your own. “I’m sorry, I just feel so bad about the…thing before.” He said.

“Oh please, really, don’t worry. I’m, like, very new to this so it was bound to happen.” You waved a hand, slinging your tote on your shoulder, preparing to leave.

“Drive safe.” He said, gesturing for you to walk before him.

“Don’t have a car,” You blurted out instinctively before mentally slapping yourself.

“Oh, do you need a car? I’m sure we can get one to take you back to the office.”

“No, no, please.” Your ears burned at the thought of taking one of HYBE’s no doubt lavish company cars to simply take you back to Smeraldo. “I’ll just take a cab.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, shooting a quick smile and wave as you nearly rushed towards the exit.

***

Next week saw a dip in temperature, with you arriving at HYBE wrapped in a coat and scarf. You pulled off your beanie when the kind lady at the desk handed you your lanyard, this time stamped across it were the words EMPLOYEE/ COLLABORATOR. It felt heavy around your neck, the figurative noose as it were, in case you messed up.

Namjoon met you near the reception desk, jogging over from one of the elevators. “Hey!” He smiled wide, rosy hair glinting under the lights. “You’re right on time.”

“Oh,” You wondered if they were watching you for slip-ups and punctuality was one area they were scrutinizing. “On time for what?”

“To meet up; it’s so cold we’re all taking coffee breaks every ten minutes. I thought we could just work in the café?”

Namjoon rubbed his large palms together, drawing your attention to his fingers – soft and perfectly formed. You cleared your throat, shocked at yourself – tightly smiling back.

“Sure, lead the way.” As if you were going to refuse a request from Kim Namjoon himself, you and he walked the same route as you had the first time you’d come here. Only this time, you passed the lounge and followed another hallway which led to what was obviously the cafeteria. The back was lined with counters and serving tables of buffets. There were couches strewn about, booths, and tables. You felt like you were back in school. You hoped the food would be better.

Namjoon led you first to the serving tables. Stirring himself a simple cup of coffee, he turned to you. “Anything you want, you can find here. Sandwiches, subs, ramen, noodles, yeah, we have to go out if you want something more…sustainable.”

“No, this is great.” You gratefully tore open a mixer packet of hot chocolate, bringing out your own mug to put it in. you’d sipped the drink in the journey over, before finally realizing you’d emptied it.

Your new muse raised his eyebrow at the Hello Kitty but didn’t say anything, only suppressing an amused smile. You pretended not to notice that.

Once you were sitting at one of the tables near the windows, you spread your recorder, notebook, pens and cup, ready to work. “Ok, shall we start?”

Namjoon took the final gulp of his coffee, nodding.

“Right so, you’re going to be writing the prologue of the book yourself.” You muttered, flitting through the primary requirements.

“Yep, it’ll be more of a front to my thoughts which you’ll be writing about. It’ll be a personal note to the members, the staff and ARMY from me. Something that is completely mine but it will set the tone for your work.” Namjoon turned his phone to you, tapping a note on it. “I already have the first draft for it. It’ll be revised of course but I’ll email it to you so you can start with that.”

You picked up your pen and then it was only Namjoon talking about how the primary idea for the album came to life and began to gestate in his mind. You found it incredible, how a small incident or a sound could inspire someone like that. You’d never had any experience that moved you like that. You told him as such, wistful of the kind of inspiration that might never ever come.

Namjoon placed an elbow on the table, looking keenly at you. “You’re a writer.” He pointed out.

“Not really; I am working as such, yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been inspired by anything. You have. I think you’ve been inspired since you were…what, fifteen?”

“I had a different beginning than yours, yes. But you can’t compare inspiration with experience. Experience comes after inspiration. Before, there’s only the feeling, the emotion that leads to it. Would you say that you started writing out of just an everyday inspiration, or did you feel something for the craft that drove you to it?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.” You fiddled with the pages of notes. “I know your beginning, of course, everyone does. I didn’t have that kind of harsh circumstances pushing me to motivation. To be very honest…I’d say I’ve breezed past life. I love my job, but I don’t have much to show in the journey to it.”

Namjoon was silent for a few moments. His tongue poked into his cheek as he regarded you shrewdly. Finally, he gave you a sweet smile, eyes scrunching and dimples popping. Your pen stopped twirling in your fingers, blood easing in your veins at the simple change of expression.

“And that’s okay,” he said, “Not everyone should have to suffer through awful situations to achieve things they aim for. Success shouldn’t be measured in tears, Y/N. The point of life, in my opinion, is happiness and in the end that is what matters; the fact that you end up happy.”

You blinked as Namjoon’s blinding smile dimmed, turning into moonshine as he ran a finger over the rim of his empty cup. The seconds stretched by, you silently removing your gaze from his and taking down everything he had said. Your eyes wanted very badly to return to his face but you kept them firmly on the page, pondering his words, until you realized through your daze that he was speaking again.

“I’m sorry again, about PD-nim and the whole Kayla thing. The email we got was sitting in the inbox but we weren’t informed and neither did we think of checking the company email before the meeting itself.” His voice had softened, turned apologetic that had you hurrying to ease his conscience.

“I already told you, it’s no biggie, really.” You insisted.

“It must’ve been nerve-wracking, especially on the first day.”

You huffed, air whistling from your lips at him, before acquiescing, “Yeah, ok, maybe a little.”

That moonshine smile brightened again, defeating the sun beams that streaked through the windows. “Allow me to make up for it by giving you a tour of our studios. Same time, tomorrow.”

At that time, you were only glad that you could gaze at his face without an excuse.

***

It took you a few days, getting used to the new schedule. You were used to the short walk from your home to Smeraldo. You were used to the morning crispness on your cheeks, the thud of your feet on the pavement and then the warm confines of your office cubicle.

The new pattern involved you having to catch a cab everyday to HYBE. It wasn’t too expensive thankfully, and the hours you spent in the expanse of HYBE, shadowing Namjoon to his haunts and work areas was starting to prove much more enjoyable and rewarding than anything you’d be doing in Smeraldo.

You were drawn into the chatter and gossip of the makeup artists, the lady who intercepted you daily at the desk struck up more conversations with you when you entered. She had a son, you’d learned. Her husband worked away from the city but he commuted every weekend and they found time for getaways whenever they could.

The most jolting experience was meeting the rest of Bangtan.

Namjoon had asked you to accompany him to one of the group practices and when you entered the huge mirrored room, you spotted the rest of the boys sitting here and there, some on their phones, the other stretching.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon slipped the strap of his work out bag over his head, turning slightly to the side to show you standing behind him to the rest of the idols. You raised a hand awkwardly, waving.

“You brought a friend?” One of the men at the back asked – Jimin, with his baby features and an inquisitive smile.

“Actually, this is Y/N. She’s the one doing the bio book for the album for me this time.” He placed a hand gently on your back, pushing you ahead when you failed to step forward.

“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, “nice to meet you all. I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah, Hyung just said.”

Your cheeks immediately heated, helplessly turning to the one who’d spoken.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, be nice.” A taller man – Jin - smacked the back of the maknae’s head, before smiling at you. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you going to be working while we practice?”

The gentle voice of the older man did wonders for you. Reminded of Rena’s composure, you immediately brightened, bowing to them naturally. “Yes sir, I am supposed to be shadowing Mr. Kim so…I hope you don’t mind.”

This made them burst out laughing – Namjoon included.

“‘Mr. Kim’, wow, Namjoon you’ve traumatized the girl. Please don’t be so formal, we’re not used to it.” Jin chortled.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, taking your elbow gently to guide you to sit on one of the cushions against the back wall. “You can sit here and watch. We won’t kick you in the face that way.” He winked and you managed a weak giggle back when you had recovered enough.

Why, oh why did he have to be so attractive? In those loose black shorts, that blasted white tank, you hadn’t been able to quite meet his eyes ever since you’d met him today.

You decided to obey the laws of ‘work’ as BTS practiced their routines. You pulled out your usual supply of pens and your trusty notebook and began to scrawl everything you’d observed, this time the process of choreography and how the dynamics between the group members and Namjoon worked in these hard routines. It took you about five pages, filling out and circling details that you would highlight in the bio.

Soon enough, you ran out of work to distract you. You folded your hands in your lap neatly, simply watching in awe. Each member hit the beat with a different type of attitude. If Jungkook was sleek as a panther, Hoseok was a coiled serpent, but none of them ever missed a beat. There was a tandem between them all, which made you sure that they took this very seriously. After all, they were known for their work ethic and it was their bread and butter.

They couldn’t slack in this just as much as you couldn’t slack in the bio.

Your eyes drifted back to Namjoon. Even though you knew, he wouldn’t describe himself as a dancer primarily, he was no less behind in his steps than his members. He moved with an awkward grace not unlike people of his height. God of Destruction – you remembered – and yet, you couldn’t help but watch when he moved. His chin jutted in concentration and you balled your fist under your chin, chiding yourself.

You were self aware enough to recognize the flow of your emotions and right now, they were particularly worrying. You were in awe of Kim Namjoon, anyone with any semblance of sense would be. He was intelligent, chivalrous, generous, charming, thoughtful, and humorous and in the days you’d worked with him, more than just books and music. He was a fun and charming person to be around and he attracted people like moths.

But…he was way beyond human leagues.

Someone like Kim Namjoon couldn’t be human. He had to be some eldritch being, put together into conception out of pure matter and stardust. There was no way his mind and his soul were meant to be meandering on this planet. And while you were aware he was far from purposeless, you wondered if he would ever be satisfied with his purpose in time.

Maybe…maybe not…

And you, as the self aware person as you were, couldn’t – shouldn’t – be having such tumultuous emotions regarding him. He was pink roses, a dusty shade of gold that had been polished and made to shine from a young age and he basked in the glow of adoration. He was at a peak you couldn’t hope to touch.

Never mind the fact that feelings mixing with work were always dangerous. You had no room for failure if these got in the way. You couldn’t afford to lose your job. You would lose everything you had staked and for what? You couldn’t throw your life away for an unattainable man. You sighed, closed your eyes and ducked your head before any of the men could notice your hard stares.

***

If you had to pick a climax for your journey with Namjoon, you’d pick the day he texted you a weekly schedule filled with interviews and media covered events that you couldn’t shadow him to. What would you do? You couldn’t exactly carry a notepad and pens in your mouth after him like a loyal puppy while he did his job. The interviews were okay, all you had to do was stand at the back behind the camera and note the way he answered his questions and if it was an English interview, the way he deflected stupid and rude questions from his members. Although it was clear by their now unimpressed faces they knew exactly what was going on.

The trouble was the red carpet event that you couldn’t push through. It would be a shame too, since this would be one of the prime times to jot a piece of Namjoon down. In front of flashing cameras, strutting with his head held high, knowing and projecting assurance. It would’ve been a great detail in the bio.

Apparently Namjoon thought the same, because as soon as he saw blue ticks in your text chat, he called you.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“About what, the event…? It’s too bad, I’ll watch it on TV and you can tell me how it goes over ice-cream.” You answered, in the face of his snort.

“Or…you could just come with me as my plus one. As a friend, of course, you can sit with that little note of yours and keep writing while people scream in my ear.”

You clutched the phone hard. He wanted you to come with him? He wanted to take you with him to an event? A red carpet event at that…on his arm, with people around…but as friends of course…

“Um…it’s kind of short notice…I don’t even have a dress.” You hedges unsteadily, hoping he didn’t notice the abrupt breathiness of your voice.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a fashion extraordinaire handy. Text me your dress size,”

The next you heard from Namjoon was when a huge, pure white box made its way to your apartment door. The delivery man took your signature on a tablet, wearing a sleek blue shirt and pressed pants that nowhere in the world could be a uniform for couriers.

You carried the heavy box to your couch in confusion, fingers fluttering with the navy blue ribbon around it in trepidation. Should you dare open it? It looked very expensive. Maybe this was a mistake and it got delivered to you in a mix up. But it couldn’t be. The name on the tablet was yours, the address yours…

You took a deep breath and pulled the knot loose.

The ribbon fell away gracefully, the top of the box grasped in your fingers and then you opened it up.

If you weren’t holding your breath…you’d have gasped.

Inside was a gown. Ok, that was a massive understatement. The fabric was thick, layers and layers of silk and glitter draped over each other to make a thing of dreams. The delicate straps of it felt like gauze, slipping over your skin when you pulled it out in pure awe.

You couldn’t possibly wear something like this. You could never pull it off. You glanced at the mirror near your door, the skirts catching the light of your room and sparkling.

You’d be wearing a million stars sewn on your body.

Your phone chimed the very moment your weak fingers were about to drop the dress, a sacrilege that proved you unworthy of it.

Hope you liked it J I’ll pick you up at 7.

And he didn’t take your calls. He didn’t hear you out. He didn’t listen to you list the reasons why you couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this.

Your heart was already beating drums in your chest, each set letting you know that it was misreading this gesture. Namjoon wasn’t wooing you with this dress. He was simply making sure you didn’t look like a garbage can next to him. After all, red carpets meant celebrities, paparazzi, superior expectations. He couldn’t afford to show up with someone looking like they had barely been able to put together an outfit fit for the walk.

After hours of trying, at five you gave up, beginning to get dressed.

You washed and dried your hair, putting it up in a roll that was easy and you had mastered for your interview. It couldn’t be faulted…maybe it was a little simple but hey, you hoped the attention wouldn’t be on your hair. Not with that dress…

As you had guessed, the dress was heavy, weighing your body down till you had to carefully bunch handfuls of the sparkling skirt just to walk. You paired it with the lowest heels you owned, and a simple silver set – a gift from your parents upon graduating.

The brilliant shade of lipstick applied, you prayed and prayed that Namjoon wouldn’t find you disappointing. Of course, only so; that you wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment to him and HYBE and Smeraldo. It had nothing to do with you wishing you could be swallowed by the earth if Namjoon looked even slightly put off.

He arrived sharp at seven, even climbing out to greet you. Your trip in the elevator had been thankfully solo. No peeking neighbors to comment on your appearance but of course the building manager caught sight of you, gaping through the glass door of his office. You hoped he wouldn’t attempt to raise your rent.

Sleek and pristine in a black suit and silver shirt, open at the throat, your breath did catch at the vision he made. His hair was pushed back now and he grinned when you slowly tottered over. “Hi,” he said simply, eyes glinting in the glow of the dress.

“Hey, you didn’t take my calls.” You blurted out, again wanting to smack yourself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry; I got busy with speech training and fittings. They messed up though; I’m wearing shoes one size big.” You and he both glanced down at the polished black shoes with silver toes. you shook your head at the distraction.

“Namjoon, this dress…it’s too much; I can’t say anything right now but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me – it was Taehyung who picked it out.” His eyes moved down the dress before he looked away suddenly, hand moving to rub his neck. “You look great – beautiful, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

Namjoon helped you climb into the car, bending down so he could collect about nine drapes and pleats of silk to lay them on the car floor before shutting you in. You glanced at the driver of the Cadillac that Namjoon had brought and decided to stay mum for the drive.

The sprawling expanse of the hall where the gala was taking place sent you into nervous jitters. You touched the edge of the top, wondering if it was tight enough, if the necklace was enough to draw attention away. Of course, the dress was the highlight of your outfit, but suddenly all you could think of were the faux pas that could get you kicked out and possibly fired.

You had no time to turn to Namjoon with these worries, to beg him to allow you to stay in the car when valets were opening the doors.

Flashing lights, camera with too bright heads blinded you momentarily and all you heard was a quiet ‘wait’ from Namjoon before he was exiting the car.

He shot easy smiles at the front line of the media before turning to assist you. Maybe they realized that Kim Namjoon had indeed brought someone with him because the screams increased in pitch and volume, deafening you as well.

You were completely disoriented when you felt Namjoon’s arm go casually around your waist, one hand still holding your skirts so he could walk you at least to the main photo calls and away from the paps.

“Hey, easy, okay, they’re always like that. Are you okay?” Namjoon mumbled in your ear when you were a safe distance away, turning you to face him.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…I just…wow, it’s a lot to take in.” You grabbed the skirts that Namjoon had let go and began to set them around you properly.

“Okay, all we have to do is walk this bit, get some photos, talk to that man at the end and then we can head in.”

You followed Namjoon's instructions quietly. Smiling lightly, when Namjoon posed in the centre of the carpet with the logo of the sponsors behind you two; Your posture probably wasn’t the most glamorous because the camera man shrugged before letting you pass – to the interviewer.

“Kim. Namjoon.” The white suited man gasped as if Namjoon had just landed from outer space and said something scandalizing.

“Oh dear, should I be worried?” Namjoon laughed breezily but his hold on your back stiffened.

“Not at all, it seems…who is the lucky lady? We’ve never seen you. Are we finally seeing the elusive RM being snatched up off the market?” The man took the time to level a polite smile at you before Namjoon waved his hand.

“Rubbish; I could never hope to snag someone like her. This is my friend; she’s accompanying me as part of a job.”

You noticed he never gave your name, thankfully.

“Ah…just friends? Pity, you look stunning together.”

“She is stunning but I would never claim to be as lucky as that. Do please excuse us, heels and all.” The interviewer laughed as Namjoon ushered you inside the hall.

Your smile had glazed over by now and when Namjoon sat you in one of the chairs next to him, you made sure to not move too much while he had to mingle.

As heavy as the gown was, the weight of it was something completely different now. Your wings had wilted back into nothingness, bringing you down to the earth with a less than pleasant thump.

Here, in the hall with actual stars around you, it didn’t matter if stars covered your body tonight. You couldn’t be part of this. You belonged in your cubicle at Smeraldo with books that had been your lifelong companions.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Namjoon being an idol was a consequence as well as reality. His proximity had blinded you, with those bewildering smiles and irresistible dimples. He’d poetically woven a spell that with him being now gone was breaking.

You were worlds apart.

Maybe this could be a story someday.

But it would never be reality.

***

Your realization couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. As days went by, time spent with Namjoon waned; instead you went back to your little pastel cubicle, typing away at your laptop, pouring facts mixed with sentiment onto the digital document.

Soon, pages of this would be flying off the shelves along with an album. Your connection with Namjoon would be severed and you both would part ways as acquaintances.

That would be that. You tried not to think too much of it like that. It colored your work a little melancholy and you’d have to go back and redo it so it would be upbeat.

It was one of those days of you clacking away when a shadow fell over your cubicle. You didn’t lift your eyes at first, engrossed in the mild noises your keys made when the presence started to…feel hostile. You glanced up curiously, meeting the curve of an arm first and perched on it, was the weight of Kayla.

She wasn’t looking at you; instead her eyes were on the screen of your laptop, reading your work with a tilt to her head that – to you – was condescending.

“Kayla,” You called in confusion and her eyes flitted to you.

“Carry on, carry on, I’m just going to watch. I want to see how you’re going to do this.” Maybe you were paranoid…but she definitely sounded snide.

“Do what, type…?” you mumbled under your breath, about to turn back to work but she heard you and decided to answer.

“I want to see the new worker ruin Namjoon’s story. That way we can all go back to our normal lives.”

You stopped. Your eyes widened in surprise at the blatant vehemence. You turned to her.

“Excuse me, but I’m not ruining anything. It was you, who decided to sleep in and you who missed the meeting. If anything, you’re the one who ruined your shot.”

“It wasn’t a ‘shot’ for me, Y/N. It was a guaranteed project. I was sick, it happens. I’m just surprised they let the newbie take on such a big collab. But then again, being a lapdog pays in this industry. Connections are more important than talent, I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, you definitely would be the one doing Namjoon’s story justice with that attitude.” You snapped back. If there was one thing you wouldn’t stand for, it was her sullying Rena.

She smiled again, removing herself from your cubicle wall. “Petty fights don’t matter to me, Y/N. I’m still your senior and soon enough I’ll be back to doing my rightful share of work.” She walked off in a very final manner, leaving you to stare after her a good while before you could turn back to your screen.

The blinking cursor taunted you, each second that passed without it budging, a point in proving that Kayla may have been right. You growled internally, rubbing your dry eyes.

You needed a change of view.

***

Your laptop was now perched on the same table you and Namjoon had sat on that first day. Your back was to the rest of the café, eyes free to drift out the window. You sipped on a simple smoothie and tapped away, making good progress. At this rate you could hand in the first draft in less than a week. A hundred pages worth of a booklet formed much easier when your mind was clear. You wondered again if you could change places here.

You hoped at least this way you’d be safely out of Namjoon’s path and could also enjoy the lovely environment of the building. After all, one sin didn’t have to equate to ditching another, did it?

No sooner had your mind finished that thought when you heard his voice. Your fingers rattled over your keyboard, printing the stupid version of words on your screen and you had to halt in case he had seen you and was coming over.

When you didn’t hear that cheerful deep voice that was now uncomfortably familiar to you approach from behind, you took the chance to peek over your shoulder, just to see how he was – just that.

He wasn’t alone, thankfully. Next to him stood another familiar figure; much shorter and just as broad. Min Yoongi hadn’t been very verbose with you when you’d been introduced but then again, you knew the man wasn’t a fan of small talk with strangers. He was under no obligation to chat you up and you weren’t expecting him to either.

They finally picked up their orders, sitting at one of the tables in your line - Comfortably far away so that they wouldn’t notice you; but also within earshot of you. You sighed, returning your attention to the document on your screen.

“So, how’s the book coming? Any news yet?” You heard Yoongi’s baritone.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s going to come along fast. Give or take a few days maybe,” Namjoon took a loud gulp, scrolling through his phone.

“I hope so. She was new, wasn’t she? I didn’t remember seeing her when it was my turn. It was that other girl…Kayla something. What’s your girl’s name again?”

You silently cleared your throat, expecting Namjoon to snap in that you weren’t ‘his girl’ but he only hummed. “It’s Y/N. We messed up that day, called her Kayla. Guess we must have thrown her off her game that whole day, but she was amazingly professional. It was stupid too, that email was sitting right in the office email, and an intern missed it and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t treat your workers right. Even interns are deserving of respect. Maybe if they were catered to the way the company expects them to cater to it, it would -,”

“Hyung, I love your rants – but please.”

Yoongi shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. You cracked a smile, biting your lip to stifle a giggle at Namjoon’s dazed expression.

“So, what’s she like? You hung out with her quite a lot.” Yoongi’s voice dipped, muttering something to Namjoon whose fingers stopped scrolling, a pensive expression on his face now. You glanced back at your screen, frowning, wondering what Yoongi must’ve said.

Namjoon didn’t answer for a long time and you had to keep glancing over, just in case he was actually muttering too and you were just not hearing anything but nope. He remained silent for a good long while, staring down at the coffee cup in front of him.

“I think…I think I would’ve preferred to work with this Kayla.”

You froze, your fingers hovering over the keys, making zero noise. You wished the other people in the café would quiet down and Namjoon would repeat himself but only this time you’d hear something else, something positive, something not so utterly crushing.

“Oh, she’s not up to the standard?” Yoongi asked.

“It’s…its stupid. I know it’s a shitty thing for me to say, but -,” But he was still going to go ahead and do it. He was still going to get those words out, unaware that you were able to hear him and have your gut wrenched.

What was wrong with you? Why were you not good enough to work with Kim Namjoon? Was it the rambling or blurting out thing? Was it the inability to retain composure? Had you messed up during a meeting that he was holding a grudge against? Did you somehow embarrass him during the gala? Had he already complained about you to his management and members, told them that this was the last time you were to work with them?

They had hushed up now, clearly having a private conversation and you were thankful. You didn’t know how you could handle hearing more. And you definitely didn’t want the rest of HYBE staff to hear how pathetic you were to their stars. If word got back to Smeraldo, you’d be fired. You’d lose everything.

You shut the laptop screen quietly, a hand sliding your things from the table top straight into your bag. Slinging your stuff onto your shoulders, you walked out of the room – out of the building – away from anything related to BTS.

***

You were resolute the next day, walking into Smeraldo with no words of greeting spoken to anyone. You got to your floor and then marched straight into Rena’s office, hurriedly knocking the prologue to the urgency of your matter.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Rena frowned, actually getting up from her seat when you stumbled in.

Something did happen, yes. I got way in over my head.

“I…I…need to um, change – the BTS project. I can’t do it anymore.” The words rushed out, thick and unintelligible but Rena apparently got the gist of it because she dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms.

“What happened?” she asked flatly.

I have a crush on my subject and he thinks I’m the worst thing to happen since the rise of patriarchy.

“Nothing serious; I just…I’m not cut out for this Rena. I told you that day of the meeting. It’s too much, I can barely sleep, can’t eat.”

Ok, provided that was only one day because your mind was too obsessed thinking about what you heard but still – you could definitely apply the cases.

“What are you talking about? You just gave me your stats two days ago. You were fifty three pages in and climbing.”

“Yeah well I’m not happy with it. I’ve been writing in a daze. Please Rena.” You begged; you’d have gotten on your knees at that point but mercifully, after about nine seconds of shrewdly eyeing you, she finally sighed.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – and very, very surprised. You’re one of the better writers at Smeraldo, Y/N; I wouldn’t have pushed you for this if you weren’t. I believed in you. But I can’t make you work if you’re not happy and I certainly can’t let it affect this collaboration. It wouldn’t help anyone – so…fine. We’ll make the change. I’ll have the boss send an email…and you can personally go and hand Kayla all your material on the job so she can start as soon as possible. We still have time to make it up I think.”

You nodded, surreptitiously wiping a streak of moisture that had escaped without notice before you paused. And then you put in a request for Rena to consider before grabbing all your notes, drafts and your work laptop and walking up to Kayla’s more spacious cubicle.

She was reading a magazine when you tapped the side wall, eyes rising up to yours before her eyebrows raised at the amount of things you were carrying. Without preamble, you let them crash on to her neat desk.

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not doing Namjoon’s bio anymore. They want you to do it.” Namjoon wanted her, in particular.

Kayla stopped scowling, looking at you in confusion before her face darkened again. “Listen Y/N, I don’t care much for charity -,”

“It’s not. I swear it’s not Kayla. I really, really can’t do it anymore. Please…please just take it off my hands.”

Slowly, her face cleared, eyes still examining yours for any insincerity before she picked up your notebook, carding through the pages.

“It’s a little shocking, I’ll admit but fine. But you…why are you giving it up? It’s BTS. It’s probably the biggest break you’d ever get.”

You shrugged, unwilling to converse more than necessary about this. “I just felt bad…and ill about it.” You didn’t exaggerate and Kayla didn’t ask you to elaborate. You glanced down at the biggest bag which you’d placed under her desk. The box was still exquisitely white and unblemished.

“Can you just do me one last favor?”

“What?”

“When you see Namjoon, can you give that bag back to him? Tell him thanks for everything.”

***

The days passed quickly, each one easier than the last as you decided to stuff your stupid, pointless feelings – hurt and otherwise into one single compartment: DO NOT TOUCH.

Namjoon had had to meet with Kayla quickly, to put in effect the plans that the senior writer was going to play with. She already had your notes, but they would still have to spend some time together just so she could get a feel of his prologue and run with it.

It had taken about two visits from Kayla before your phone started to act up.

He sent a text first. At a decent time…you were at work, taking a small break when the ping came. You promptly slid the notification aside and pushed the nagging in your head to look at it into that one compartment. An hour passed…then another before another message came. You couldn’t help but glance at the words even as you slid it out of focus.

Are you ok? What’s going on?

Namjoon didn’t text again for the remainder of the day and you heaved a sigh of relief. It would be easier to not mess with that box of goodies in your head if only anything pertaining to Kim Namjoon was taken out of your path.

Only…he decided to call you…

As soon as you entered your little apartment and took off your shoes, flexing your toes, the trill of your ringtone made you fumble in your bag. You almost slid the call to accept, catching yourself just in time when you saw the big white KIM NAMJOON flashing on the ID.

You stared at the name, a proverbial finger dancing over the latch of the compartment. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t mope over him again; you had given an entire day of wallowing up to his name.

Again, you heard him preferring Kayla. You placed the phone onto the coffee table and went into the bathroom to change.

Namjoon’s persistence remained impressive though. He called and texted every day ranging from thrice to five times. Almost every time you frowned. You had given him Kayla. What more could he want? He was desperate to know if you were okay, wondering if something had happened to you and that Smeraldo was trying to cover it up but you couldn’t bring yourself to put him at ease.

Also, it was getting steadily difficult to keep his name out of your life. BTS was worldwide, he was a global entity. He was everywhere…the media, the news, there were even fucking standees in malls for them.

But your job was keeping you busy, mercifully.

The day you had gone to Rena to ask her to put Kayla on the bio project and take you off, you’d also asked to be moved to a different section of jobs, just for the time being – till you could come back to yourself, or so you told her.

In reality, the editing and beta reader position that you now held was time consuming and kept you focused and engrossed enough to not think about the idol. Not every piece of writing was amazing, but fiction was fiction and you gladly succumbed to romances and fantasies that were wildly improbable - simply because they were possible in their worlds.

You could not be more grateful to Rena for this. You finished more than your quota of three manuscripts a day, sometimes even staying up at night if one was particularly interesting. You knew you’d have to go back to writing someday but for now, you wanted to do a good job so you wouldn’t let down Rena more than you already had.

You shuddered to think of returning to your laptop. It was a mistake to think that you were cut out for this job. There was a certain level of coldness required to be a writer – the sheaves of paper in front of you proved that. You had none of that ruthlessness in you. You were too soft, too sheltered. You had grown attached to a subject that you were supposed to present as facts. Instead you had painted him in a fantastic palette of misdirected emotions that he was under no obligation to act upon.

And so now you were hurt…and it was your own fault.

To write again, you would first need a spine, one forged in titanium instead of the malleable clay that had wrapped around the fingers of others so easily.

In some days of your ruminations…Namjoon stopped calling and texting and you were then rudely interrupted by Kayla, striding over to deliver news you hadn’t asked for.

“Mr. Kim took the dress back.” she announced as soon as she pressed herself at your desk. You looked up from your fourth manuscript of the day, peering at her through your glasses. Your back was sore and your neck felt lodged.

“He’s asking about you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, clearing your throat before reaching for a bottle of water. “I’m okay.”

“He said he reached out but you never responded. Why don’t you respond? He’s obviously concerned.” She continued, putting an unnecessary emphasis on ‘obviously’. It irked you.

“He was my subject matter. Now he’s not. It’s inappropriate.” You barely kept from snapping, shrugging noncommittally. Kayla was still there, eyeing you in that way, that made you feel smaller than her.

“Well, I don’t think he feels it’s inappropriate. He’s enquiring about someone he considers a friend. He’s been known to care about friends.”

You put the manuscript down finally. You looked up at her blankly but she didn’t flinch. Instead Kayla returned your heavy look with one of hers, raking you down with an appraising look. After a few moments of silence she gracefully straightened and turned on her heel, returning to her cubicle.

You picked up your manuscript again.

***

The cursor was blinking again. The walls of your cubicle needed a wipe down. Some of the pens in your drawer needed replacing. You revolved on your chair once – twice – thrice before facing the darn cursor again.

It had been two days since Rena had asked (basically commanded) you to return to your original post. One because you had gotten through the work she’d set aside for you. Second because Smeraldo’s projects were lining up and they needed their writers to buck up. You being one of them now needed to get in the game.

Or you would lose your job. After all, even though Rena treated you like a sister, it didn't mean she was going to baby you forever. Her own job would be on the line.

So you returned, starting out slow, with slogans and advertising scripts. Only…advertisements meant media research…and you knew what you were going to see the first thing you delved into that.

When your phone rang, you were almost eager to get to it. Namjoon hadn’t called in a while – it was safe again. You glanced at the unfamiliar number once, curious before you pressed the accepted call to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,”

The deep thrum of his voice reverberated in your ear, travelling straight through your heart – setting it to thump unsteadily – and landed deep in your belly, burning uncomfortably.

Your fingers tightened around the device, unable to speak, unable to pull it away from your ear, unable to comprehend simply hanging up. Instead you helplessly muttered his name. The two syllables were heavy on your tongue, some emotion injected in them that you doubted he could sense over the phone.

It irked you that you had so easily been caught unaware. You had paid attention to every text, every call for so long, swiping him out of your sight to avoid the temptation and here he was, smartening up and using another number altogether.

You guessed his IQ really did pay off.

When he spoke again, there was no weight in his tenor, no sense of concern that Kayla had said he felt about your absence. If anything he sounded cold, indifferent – as if you were just another person he was talking to.

And you were...you couldn’t mean anything to him.

“How have you been? It’s been quite some time.” He said, formal, aloof.

“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve been keeping busy. What...about you? How are you?” You mumbled.

“I’m fine. The bio is going on fine, I heard from Kayla.” He seemed to be moving while he spoke, you could hear distinct shuffles around him.

“That’s nice. So, is something wrong? Did you need something? If you lost Kayla’s number –”

“Can I not call you unless there was something wrong?” he cut you off smoothly, pleasant while you stumbled to correct yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just –”

“Anyway, so the boys wanted to throw a party in celebration of the album finalization. It’s a dinner and games thing so be prepared to be bored if you’re not into that. They wanted to invite you because you were part of the bio making process.”

They...they were inviting you, not him. It seemed silly, to be stung by such a tiny little detail but you couldn’t help the down-turn of your lips, the frown settling upon your brows. “What about Kayla?”

“I don’t know, maybe one of the boys will get to it. So, do I count you in?”

“Why me, Namjoon, I left the project, didn’t I?”

“Is that a no?”

You sighed, annoyance surging at the way he deliberately ignored your pointed remarks. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“See you at 7. You know where the dorm is. Just tell the front desk you’re here for BTS and give them your name.”

He hung up before you could spill out another question, pose another objection. You looked irate at the blackened screen, feeling used and mocked yet again. He had reached you so long after you cut him off and he had had the gall to sound miffed with you? You stuffed the phone back into your back.

The evening would last long. You vowed that this would be the last time you would have anything to do with Kim Namjoon.

***

You had been intimidated by the idea of BTS before. After spending a few days with Namjoon, you could appreciate them being normal men, seven men who just wanted to make music, who were young, a little dorky but overall just themselves.

Coming here, standing in front and looking up at the gigantic building that housed the dorm of BTS and their separate private apartments, you could only feel the previous nerves spiking again.

Your fingers were shaky as you pushed open the heavy glass door, thick enough to stop bullets and made your way to the marble front desk.

The concierge, decked out in a cream vest outfit, politely smiled at your approach – too professional to not rove his eye critically over your modest dress. You were at the dorm of BTS, after all. You couldn’t show up in jeans for a dinner party.

He nodded when you relayed your name, giving Namjoon’s reference which had them flurry to get you an elevator. Once trapped in the sleek metal box, the chiming numbers indicated your rising panic.

What were you doing?

Why were you here?

You had cut them out of your life for a reason. Why would you willingly show up again? Inside, of course, you knew the reason. You had unsettled issues. You wanted to talk this out with him. But you couldn’t – which again, added to the question as to why you would accept his invitation in the first place?

There was no way you were brave enough to stand in front of Kim Namjoon and ask him to explain himself.

When the doors opened; the wide hallway only led to one set of double doors. You looked around once; just to make sure that you were on the right floor and not about to barge into some unwitting souls’ suite.

Walking to the etched wood, you knocked a hurried patter that sounded abnormally loud. You didn’t even have to wait long. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he was waiting right inside for you.

Namjoon stood in a simple black long sleeve, rolled up till his elbows. His jeans stretched tightly along the length of those legs. Huh, he was wearing jeans...go figure...

“Come in Y/N.” He said, walking back into the house. You followed, slower, clutching your bag strap like the first day.

It was...relatively clean, being the house full of men. It was also too big for you to take in everything. You supposed they needed the space, each one with a personality of their own but together all the time. You wondered if they had studios in the two storey house too.

You focused on Namjoon, who had by now moved to the sitting area, flicking through some pages, not paying any attention to you. There was no sound. No one came to greet you, not even Jin who you thought was the actual host.

It was...suspiciously quiet.

“Namjoon,” You called. “Where is everyone?” 

The man only shrugged his shoulders for a second and it seemed that he wasn’t about to answer your question at all. However, at the very last moment when you were about to repeat yourself unwillingly, he muttered. “They went out to eat.”

What?

They were out to eat? After calling you over to have dinner and play games? 

“So...we have to go and join them or something?” you asked.

Namjoon sighed painstakingly, as if you were disturbing his peace but he finally dropped the papers onto the coffee table and stood up, hands in his pockets.

“No, Y/N, we’re not going to join them.”

What the hell was going on here exactly?

“We’re going to talk.”

You had opened your mouth when he finished his sentence, pausing in contemplation to what he could possibly want to talk about. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I want answers, Y/N. Why did you stop coming over all of a sudden? Why did you stop working on the bio and give it to Kayla? Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called you? Why didn’t you answer my texts? What the fuck happened?”

You blinked, once, staring at him in shock mingled with annoyance. There was a lot to Kim Namjoon; you would be the first to admit it. But you never took him to be this cruel.

“Why are you even asking me these questions? I wasn’t competent enough for you. So I did the right thing, I gave the work to someone who could match your standards. End of story; I don’t understand why you had to bring me here.” Your vehemence faded by the end of it, leaving you to drop your head and mumble half the words at your shoes.

You kept staring down when Namjoon didn’t say anything in retaliation. Seconds ticked by and finally you had to glance up to see Namjoon’s face tight, jaw clenched and he drummed his fingers over crossed arms. 

“Unfortunately,” He began when your eyes met. “Doubt and Insecurity are two things that every artist struggles with in their line of work. There are no ways around them; you simply have to push through them. Work through them, Y/N; but you can’t let it take you away from your passion. If you felt doubtful of yourself, you should’ve talked to me, or any of us...you didn’t have to brand yourself incompetent and give into this negativity.”

If you had two cents of courage you would’ve screamed at him. Indeed, Kim Namjoon was a cruel man – a blind man.

And your nerves had finally grown into something more ferocious.

“I gave in? I’m sorry, Namjoon, but when your client is the one that ‘brands’ you incompetent, you kind of have to give in. You are the one who said you preferred Kayla. So I gave you exactly what you wanted. So stop pretending like you care about my insecurities and my doubts.”

Namjoon gaped at you like a fish, eyes wide and thoroughly confused. He held up a hand immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

You snapped. “I heard you, that day, talking to Yoongi about how you would’ve preferred it if it was Kayla who was working on the bio rather than me. If I was bothering you that much or if you found me – I don’t know, not a good writer, you could’ve at least been professional about it. You could’ve emailed the company and asked for a switch, instead of bad-mouthing me to your damn members!”

Both of Namjoon’s hands were up in the air now, defensively. His eyes flickered around his house as he attempted to place the scenario you were describing to him. You saw the light bulb go off about a few seconds after. His demeanour changed immediately. His hands lowered, face cleared and his eyes scrunched before he did the worst thing imaginable that he could’ve done at that moment.

He laughed.

His body bent forward, hands clasping his stomach as his shoulders shook. His head dipped, chortles echoing around you as you stood rooted to your spot, stricken by his mirth.

In the moments that he managed to raise his head, he caught sight of you and laughed again, eyes watering.

You were seeing red. His frame lit up in flames in your head, fuelling you to whirl about on your heel. You marched away, almost at the door when fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping your next steps.

You turned, seeing Namjoon already there, still smiling.

“Let me go.” You said firmly.

“I didn’t say I would’ve preferred Kayla to you because I thought you weren’t a good fit for the job, Y/N.” He said instead, hand loosening on your arm but not quite letting go. “I said it because...well, I was afraid I would be breaching our contract. Since...I kind of wanted to take you out.”

You stood there, watching Namjoon’s eyes flicker between yours, waiting for a reaction. His hand was still loosely cupping your elbow, fingers warm and splayed out over the skin. His thumb briefly brushed over the bone as if checking that you hadn’t frozen over.

But you had...you were standing stock still, staring up at the idol, uncomprehending the words that had spilled out of him. He had just said something very controversial, very brave...and very confusing.

You thought back to all your hangouts. The long talks that you scribbled down with your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth, the walks that you took, sometimes huddling together with shivers due to the cold weather, sharing hot coffees and chocolate ice creams. Telling him about yourself when he wanted a break and needed to listen instead of supply conversation. Then they changed to his texts, the good morning or good night texts that he would send, the occasional music recommendations and book suggestions.

And then the night of the Gala...that stunning dress...his behaviour...

Nowhere in any of these cases had you seen anything that spelled anything other than friends being friends. He had never flirted brazenly with you, simple banter being the only form of cheek you could recall. He was after all; your client and anything that could offend or upset him would result in your suspension.

“That’s...that’s...impossible. You never – not even once – I didn’t ever get the idea, not ever,” You fumbled over your words, pulling away or trying to once again but Namjoon shrugged, smiling sardonically.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it, could I? You were working with me, for my company. I know the kind of pressure you must’ve been under. If I did say something, you’d have been obliged to agree because you’d think you owed it or something, just to keep the job. I didn’t really want to put you in the spot like that. The night of the gala I got carried away. I had a plus one and if I had to take someone, I wanted it to be you. I begged Taehyung to put the outfit together because I’m shit at high end fashion but you looked absolutely gorgeous and yeah, I owe Tae a thousand favours now but it was worth it.” He took a breath.

“I was waiting for the project to be over so I could actually, properly ask you out but well, I guess you heard me being an idiot that day and...” he waved his free hand vaguely.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your eyes leaving him and travelling back down to the floor. What else could you say? Sorry, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and got my feelings hurt and acted like a child? Yeah, you didn’t think that’d go over well.

“Which brings me to the question, why did you stop?” His thumb brushed over your skin again, prodding your attention to him and you shrugged like him, mumbling something about doing right by the client.

“Bullshit, if you wanted to do right by the client, you would’ve waited for me to say something. Changing people like that could’ve resulted in a breach lawsuit and I doubt you’d have risked that.”

You looked up at him again, irritated. Why did he have to poke holes in your admittedly stupid story? Hadn’t he shaken your world enough by telling you that THE KIM NAMJOON wanted to ask you out?

“You hurt me.” You hissed. “You made me think I was inept and it hurt my feelings because I’ve been attached to you and this book since day one. I finished the bio at home, for fuck’s sake. I lost objectivity when it came to you because you’re adorable, scary smart, caring, generous, a total goof and it doesn’t help that you look like a damn sculpture all the time.”

You yanked your arm one last time, successful this time around because Namjoon smiled widely, shyly, deep dimples poking into his cheeks that had you internally melting from how cute he was.

“I want to kiss you.” he said simply. “May I?”

What were you going to do, say no?

Instead, horrifyingly you started to sniffle. “You better, because I’m really ashamed right now and I will start crying.”

Namjoon was quick to cup your face, cooing over your squished cheeks in his large palms and he brought you closer, closer and closer to himself. Your hands clutched at the sleeves of his shirt while he pecked you lightly, dropping a flurry of equally soft and fast pecks on your cheek, the tip of your nose and chin before returning to your lips, delving deeper, testing the waters.

Your eyes fell shut, revelling in the plumpness of his lips as he delicately trailed them over yours, smacking kisses over you till you let out a giggle.

“Finally, she smiles.” Namjoon beamed at you, leading you back until you were gently propped against the door, your head comfortably resting on the wood and he deepened the kiss, bowing and moulding his body with yours.

“Should we be doing this here?” You asked nervously, when his lips began to travel over your jaw.

“The boys won’t be back for a while but we can head to my room if you want?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, heat pooling into the skin he still held between his hands.

“Uh, I’m good here.” You muttered to his amusement. His eyes travelled back to your mouth, eyes hooding and then he was slowly leaning in again. You met him halfway and his mouth opened with the barest brush of tongue when loud pounding sounded right on the other side of the doorway, laughter and footfalls sounding the arrival of the rest of the band.

You moved away just as the door flung open, six boys piling in, “Can you believe none of us thought to grab our wallets, we have to go back and tell manager-nim to get the car again –” Jin grumbled with the boys stopping to gape at you in Namjoon’s arms as the two of you blinked at them like deer in headlights.

Then chaos erupted.

The whoops and cheers of ‘finally’ made you drop your head in a shy grin with Namjoon groaning behind you.

“Namjoonie finally got some!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

[slimepuparibaba]

My Genshin Universe Ship Dynamics

I've given so much info about ChiLumi, but I definitely wanna expand on everyone else, because their stories are interesting too! So, without further ado, here are the ship dynamics in as little time as possible. This is a long one, so it'll be below the cut! Thanks!

ChiLumi (Childe x Lumine)

Lumine is a sweet dazzling ray of sunshine who is a bit of a chaotic gremlin at times. Loves her boyfriend dearly and isn't afraid to make it known. Usually flirts with him without hesitation.

Childe is a simp. Usually, he is the one in charge and having everyone listen to him, but he will immediately bend to Lumine's will. Also responsible for most of the following ships out of protecting Lumine from any 'love rivals'

JeaLuc (Jean x Diluc)

Small feelings existed before Diluc's whole father incident happened. Then, the feelings got crushed. They hide their small lingering feelings behind mutual respect

Jean heavily respects Diluc and is eager to work together with him due to how he displayed himself in his younger years. She hopes that one day, that fire may come back to him.

Diluc is so tired of everyone and everrything, but he's tolerant with Jean. He sometimes checks up on her as she can exhaust herself on her duties. Deep down, and I mean REEEAAAL deep down, he still cares. He just doesn't want to admit it. (Tsuntsun? Kuu... tsun? Tsunkuu? I... I don't know)

Heavily advocated and supported by Childe. The ex-Fatui gives constant advice to Jean since she's the one more likely to make a move rather than Diluc.

If they were together, it would be one of the more mature, civil relationships. also klee is their surrogate child while alice is away fight me on this

AlbeCrose (Albedo x Sucrose)

Master and apprentice dynamic (obviously)

Albedo admires Sucrose for her work ethic and also sometimes sketches her when she isn't paying attention. He's not entirely aware of what love is, so his feelings are questionable to him. He would love it if Sucrose called him by his name, though.

Sucrose admires Albedo and looks up to him, to the point where that idolization grew into a crush. She tries to ignore it, though, because Albedo is her teacher, and she is his student.

Childe is not satisfied with Sucrose's conclusion and has since stolen pages from Albedo's sketchbook (with the help of oh-so convenient wind from Venti) that had notes about Albedo's feelings for Sucrose on it.

To his dismay, they are not a thing yet.

...he will keep trying, though.

XiaoYu (Xiao x Ganyu)

Cold, harsh tsundere with a delicate, but well-mannered partner

The ones closest to fruition. Lantern Rite helped move their friendship along and they're now in territory that can be assumed as 'more than friends, but questioning if lovers'

Xiao pushes away Ganyu on instinct because of his karma, but he does care. Ganyu sees this and continues moving closer to prove his karma won't hurt her and she's perfectly fine.

They also both babysit Qiqi and look like a family. Very cute.

HEAVILY advocated by Childe--Xiao is the worst love rival TO DATE

ZhongGuang (Zhongli x Ningguang)

A himbo god and an intelligent reincarnation of a God his intelligent wife that will point out everything (see John Mulaney for example)

Advocated by both Childe AND Lumine

Neither has made a move yet...

Both hold a mutual respect for each other. Both have expressed interest (albeit not in front of each other) of giving the other a chance, but otherwise, no actions have been taken

Zhongli, however, seems to be the one pining a bit more noticeably than Ningguabg. Sometimes, one can catch him staring at her as she looks out upon the city of Liyue Harbor as if mesmerized.

Ningguang may also have had a dream or two about him. She hasn't dove into explicit detail though.

These two old folk need a bit more time than everyone else.

BenBar? BarNett? ...BenAra? (Bennett x Barbara)

Debated between BenneFischl, but Bennett had custom-made balloons on his birthday with Barbara on it, so Childe went through with this instead (plus, he does owe Barbara for her help with him and Lumine, so...)

Plus, he does think her smile is dazzling

Barbara is super concerned about Bennett's wellbeing and constantly patches him up on their journey. Bennett just shrugs it off and says it's no problem

Both are on the younger side, so they're not looking to rush into a relationship. Currently, they are best of friends, with some crushes on each other (Bennett pining over Barbara just a tiny bit more)

Give them time. They're young.

Chongqiu / Xingyun (Chongyun x Xingqiu)

Buddies who are totally not gay

Chongyun is, despite popular belief, not very forward in pursuing Xingqiu. It's actually Xingqiu who does the pursuing.

Xingqiu found a bunch of romance novels, took them as relationship advice, and is torturing Chongyun with it.

Give Chongyun some time to reaffirm that yes, this is love, and yes, Xingqiu bullying him is just because Xingqiu thought the tropes in romances were all totally correct

It's basically Chongyun, the panicked gay, and Xingqiu, the confident gay

Ramber (Razor x... Amber?)

For reasons unknown, Childe has this down in his matchmaking notebook. No other information was actually revealed...

Lumine seems to have penned this as well?

Amber and Razor have apparently been reported to have been hunting together after Razor was sent to adapt to human society. He seems to rely heavily on Amber for that, since she's one of his only human friends around his age

It's basically Amber and her dog, but for some reason, Amber doesn't seem to mind pampering him every once in a while...

Not heavily advocated yet and needs more evidence, according to Childe and Lumine

ScaraMona (Scaramouche x Mona)

Made by Childe as a failsafe in case Scaramouche joins their expedition.

He wants to make sure Scaramouche does not woo Lumine, so he decided that Mona would be best to handle him.

If they got together, their dynamic would definitely be a bickering old married couple that never gets along but still loves each other

BONUS: Dainther (Dainsleif x Aether)

Supported by Childe--he won't push it, but he hopes it works out for Dain

Dain reminisces on the times he spent with Aether and constantly wishes to go back. He treasures Aether with all his heart and hopes that someday, they will be reunited again.

Dainsleif loves Aether and misses him dearly. He pines over his missing traveling companion.

Aether...

...well, Aether's feelings aren't relevant, now are they?

He set those aside long ago, anyway. He has a duty to uphold.

[jawllines]

Sorry to be annoying but I asked awhile ago and I think tumblr ate my ask but did you ever do tattoo Harry blurb? I love them and I miss them:( I’ve looked through your tags and there isn’t any on there if you have posted one

I CAN POST ONE I WROTE A WHILE AGO RIGHT NOW :D I DONT THINK I POSTED HERE BUT LET ME KNOW HERE YOU GO PET 

i.

“Baby -- baby, c’mon!”

It was rare that Harry ever woke Y/N with more than kisses and cuddles. Maybe an abrupt shoulder shake if the both of them slept through their alarms (and, considering that they are the only ones with the key to open up their own respective stores, they never typically arrived late facing happy employees -- or in Y/N’s case, employee -- Niall, in particular, was always more of a grump in that situation than Riktor even), but even that still managed to be tender, and soft. He always treated her so delicately, as if she were made up of porcelain in the morning and it was imperative to speak in a low, soothing voice with careful touches or she might shatter. And she really didn’t think it was because she was an absolute terror to wake up -- Y/N did quite well, even as early as 5 AM she was still in somewhat of a pleasant mood, certainly nothing to be fearful of -- she thinks he’s just gentle in the morning. He’s gentle all the time, but for some reason or another, he’s extra soft with her then.

They had both had a bit of a busy day, so by the time that they made it back to Y/N’s flat (Harry said he liked it there best because it smelled like her, and -- well, he softens her up and calls her Darling when he wants them to go over there, so it’s hard to say no), both of them were ready for bed. Neither of them could barely keep their eyes open as they scarfed down the burgers they’d picked up on the way home, and once they’d finished and brushed their teeth, they toppled into each other on the mattress. Y/N would reckon they both fell asleep before their heads had even hit the pillow -- she doesn’t even remember crawling beneath the blankets.

Apparently she had though, because now as her brain tunes in with the world around her and she realizes that the distorted voice that had begun to prod her dreams was actually a grumpy, dry throat Harry, she’s cuddling herself closer in the covers. This only makes him grumble at her more, “You’re such a blanket hog,” he whines and Y/N finally blinks her eyes open, being greeted with Harry’s disgruntled, pouted face illuminated by the sunlight beginning to slip through the blinds, “I’ve been trying to unravel it for like ten minutes, but you’re all wrapped up! I’m cold.”

Y/N smiles sleepily at him, not understanding the gravity of the situation entirely as she begins to un-burrito herself from the covers, “G’morning, beautiful,” she murmurs as she does so, finally disentangling from the blankets and while she was a little less warm, Harry was quick to wiggle in beneath them, “Sorry.”

“Don’ be sweet when m’tryin’ to be angry with you,” she puckers her lips at him dramatically, and though he sighs, he leans in and presses their mouths together softly, “Your kisses aren’t g’na sweeten me up, m’still grumpy, blanket hog.”

She can only hum as she cuddles closer to him, “Sorry,” she repeated, this time adding, “Like to swaddle myself like a lil’ baby. Reckon you weren’t holdin’ me well enough last night.”

An offended gasp leaves through his lips soundly, enough that it startles her, but his arms worm around her waist and draw her closer to his body, “Brat,” he grumbled, dipping his nose into her throat, “I held you so well and you just wiggled right out of my arms and took all the covers with you.”

“Like a worm -- I wiggled out like a worm or somethin’,” she tried to sit up but his arms tightened around her, “This worm has to pee though and she’ll soak the bed if she isn’t allowed.”

His arm loosens around her, “This worm sounds like she’s a sleepy sort of delusional that requires about two hours more of rest.”

Y/N stumbles toward the bathroom in her room, “Noooooooo,” she whines, frowning at nobody, not bothering to swing the door shut before she plops on the cold toilet seat to relieve herself, “We’re supposed to go get hot chocolate, no more sleep.”

“Baby, it’s 6 AM and I’ve been up the last 30 minutes freezing my bits off!” He calls back to her and she giggles some, her eyes trying to accommodate to the bright white lights of the bathroom, “Sleep just a bit more and we’ll get the hot chocolate when we wake up next.”

She waits until she flushes and washes her hands to respond to him, and though she knows that she is definitely going to crawl back in bed and fall asleep, she stands at the foot of it with her hands in fists at her hips. He had let his eyes flutter closed by then but she thinks he could feel her eyeballing him, so he looks up past the mountain of blankets now covering him so she could only see his eyes and his nose, “What’re you doing?”

“You’re telling me, you don’t wanna go at 6 AM, three hours before the kiosk even opens to get hot chocolate with me? You must really hate me, don’t you?”

He huffs a sharp breath through his nose which is how he usually laughs in the morning, when he can’t muster up the strength to have a proper giggle, “Absolutely loathe you, baby doll, but could you please come back to bed so I can loathe you in the warmth?”

It takes little persuading -- as she said, she knew she was just going to crawl right back in beside him -- and instead of relying too heavily on the blankets to provide her warmth (like wrapping up half of it around her so she was cocooned entirely. . .this is what she normally does, and she would say that’s probably why Harry almost never has any of the covers in the morning), she relies on him. Picks up his arm so that she can fit herself underneath it and lies her cheek on his chest, “Your pits better not be smelly.”

“I make no promises.”

.                             .                         .

“I love your hair.”

“Stop it, Sweetheart, I’m g’na start blushing.”

They had slept for four more hours rather than the two Harry had originally suggested, but that always happens with them. Y/N would say that they are just too content cuddled up with one another that they milk it for all it’s worth. If one of them wakes up before the other, then they just settle their head back down and close their eyes again. Unless they had somewhere to be, of course, but Harry had a free Saturday (no clients schedule, even though Saturday’s could often be some of his heaviest days) and he’d elected to spend it with her -- whether they were awake or asleep didn’t much mater, they just liked to be near each other.

When they finally did wake up, they lazily got dressed into about thirty layers so they wouldn’t freeze outside. The weather had grown frigid quite quickly this November, and neither of them stood the cold very well, but there was a park lined with little pop-up kiosks with hot chocolate, sweets, little holiday goodies, and an obscene amount of knitted blankets (it was a clever marketing tactic, Y/N thought -- everyone is more willing to spend money on a blanket when they’re freezing cold - she and Harry had certainly fallen for it today). Y/N bought them shoe warmers to keep their toes at least not numb, and Harry lets her borrow a pair of his gloves because she keeps forgetting to buy some of her own. They both have hats fitted over their heads too, and since Harry’s let his hair grow out, his curls stick out from beneath the pumpkin orange print and Y/N can’t stop staring at it. She’s always loved his hair, she told him as much one of the first nights they’d sat on her bookstore’s floor and talked about just a bit of everything. Back when she barely realized she had a crush on him. . . .when she didn’t know that in just a little time, she would be over the moon.

And she’ll never forget that people used to make him feel like shit about his hair, so she maybe overcompensates by telling him every time she has thought about loving it. Which means today, in the span of a short three hours they’d been awake, Y/N had complimented his hair about twenty different times. If she was running her fingers through it, fixing his beanie, or just staring at him, she let him know just how much she adored his curls.

“I hate to tell you this, Button, but your cheeks are already red as apples,” she shifted the paper cup of hot chocolate from her hand closest to him to the other, so she could reach up and tuck them behind his ear, that had reddened from the cold, “The air has you more bashful than I ever could.”

“Not true,” he murmurs, lowering his voice as he knocks closer to her ear, “I always blush when you go down on me.”

“God,” Y/N shakes her head, “You’re too much, d’ya know that?”

He laughs, nudging her with the cold tip of his nose, “You want the peppermint bark? We’re coming up on the seller.”

“Of course, I want peppermint bark,” she reaches for her wallet, “I’m stocking us up for the next hundred years or so.”

Harry slows for a moment, sliding his gloved hand into her own and squeezing, “Hey,” he begins, his voice soft, somewhat reflective and it brings her attention to him at her side, “Y’know when -- you remember how you said you just get random flushes of love for me and s’a whole lot and you just don’t know what to do with it?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, like every waking minute practically. Why?”

He smiles shyly, “I’m having one of those moments.”

“For the peppermint bark?” She teases, but his brows furrow and he swats her shoulder playfully, “Hey!”

“I’m trying to be sweet on you, and you’re still going on about this bloody chocolate,” he rubs the arm that he swats, even though Y/N has so many layers on plus the blanket that she bought wrapped around her, that he made no real contact with her body.

Y/N pulls him in for a hug, narrowly avoiding a child running past them as she does so, “Oh, you know m’only kidding. I love you too, Bug, more than words can describe and ten times more than the chocolate I reckon. . .well, unless it’s made really well this year.”

“I’ll leave you here, blanket hog.”