#I was screaming at my laptop bc I felt like it was a bad idea... and then Conner's ending happened and I screamed even more

[squish--squash]

I just finished watching someone play the entirety of Detroit: Become Human for the first time and I am both chewing and being chewed on by this game I am insane over it rn like why aren't people still talking about this game constantly???

[cno-inbminor]

a/n: drabble dump for our boy kuroo -- i love him loads and think about him endlessly. i also apologize beforehand for the awkward ending bc i’m terrible at ending things. hope you all enjoy! gonna go knock back a melatonin and sleep my wooziness away

w/c: ~2.4k; some angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol

you’re avoiding tetsurou, and he’s keen on figuring out why. college!au, friends to lovers.

“you’re not as slick as you think, y’know.”

instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine, electrifying you in quick, tiny bursts. those eight, nine words were more than enough to let you know who was standing behind you, peering over your shoulder in an effort to catch your gaze. his voice made your heart clench and lungs fight for oxygen – you begin to curse the high, intellectual level of tetsurou’s observational skills. you just wanted to make it another day without seeing his face outside of class, opting more for longer walks and just looking back to see the back of his stylishly mussed hair in the far distance. it frustrates you how much you’ve used the word ‘infuriating’ when it comes to him, but there’s no other better word you can think of without having to consult the thesaurus.

you have a few seconds to dart your eyes around, desperately searching for a way to escape. your productivity typically thrives within the library, but he’s always there, so with lots of pleading and promises of baked goods and decent coffee, you were able to borrow a close friend’s ID, a graduate student, and access the graduate resource room in a less traveled hallway. and in the expanse of that area, you’ve tucked yourself away into the back corner behind some shelves where almost no one visits. but it leaves you cornered and vulnerable – no matter which direction, in combination with his long legs, tetsurou would catch up to you in a heartbeat. you thought you had finally found a way to permanently escape his grasp, but apparently not.

much like you, he’s not supposed to be able to access this area. after all, you’re both senior undergrads so –

“how did you get in here?” you quietly hiss. you’re pretty sure you’d be booted out if you made any sound above 15 decibels, and you’re not about to let tetsurou ruin this haven for you.

there’s a rustle of clothing, a hand that rests on the back of your seat, and the hairs on the nape of your neck spike, before a delicate whisper informs, “you’re not the only one with grad student friends, love.”

if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself rigid, body absolutely understanding of the effect that this man has on you, you definitely would’ve shivered from the proximity. but the gentleness in his tone sends you back to three weeks ago – you’re no longer under a fluorescent light tucked between cream-colored walls, but rather basked in a somewhat garish hue of crimson. your veins were tinged with alcohol, the substance leaving you feeling like you were on clouds, a silly smile breaking across your face uncontrollably. other bodies surrounded you but the only one you were focused on was the one in front of you, following your swaying movements to the beat of the music coming through someone’s speakers. even in the warmth of the house, tetsurou’s hands on your waist seared your skin, branding the feeling on you for eternity. his eyes twinkled with apparent affection, unbridled and screaming at you for you to understand the line he wanted to so desperately cross, that the alcohol pushed it behind his efforts to deny himself the one thing he’s been searching for in all these years.  

“i’m a little drunk, but fuck, you have no idea how bad i wanna kiss you,” he had murmured just loud enough into your ear, then ghosting his lips over the shell of it. everything around you dissolved into a blur as you could only focus on his breaths and the tightening of his grasp on you. his confession wasn’t completely unwarranted – not at all.

tetsurou and you had met in the quantitative analysis lab freshman year, having been assigned as partners for the semester just by how the ta’s drew the seating chart. he was a friendly, kind soul – had saved your ass multiple times from overshooting your titrations, prevented multiple beakers and graduated cylinders from falling over, always down to compare numbers to help ensure that neither of you were fucking up too hard.

coincidentally, the two of you were registered to the same ochem lab the next year and immediately gravitated towards each other, grateful to find some familiarity in all the anxiety. he witnessed your breakdown mid-lab, did his best to comfort you and salvage your sample so there was enough for recrystallization because you somehow got landed with a shitty, leaking separatory funnel, and stayed back with you when you had fallen behind in the cleanup process. from then on, it was a weekly habit to study together and work on your lab journals and reports together, not taking long to become close friends.

tetsurou did his best to keep his growing feelings at bay, knowing that you had explicitly mentioned swearing off relationships as you tried to figure out your future first. he wasn’t oblivious enough to think that you didn’t feel anything for him whatsoever – you were stubborn and tenacious at best. the house party at miya atsumu’s was simply a suggestion for the both of you to relax after a brutal midterm in your inorganic chemistry course, to let loose and treat yourself. he really hadn’t meant to say what he said, but just looked so good, so lovely and beautiful and enthralling, and you were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky – he knows he’s sent that same look to you multiple times when you weren’t looking, completely sober and unfazed.

he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close into you that night and you hadn’t stopped in – he knows he should’ve resisted, but feeling your soft lips against his was easily one of the top ten highlights of his college career, and his love for you only surged beyond his hold, overwhelming him to the point where all he could think about was nothing but holding your cheek in the palm of his hand so he could get a better angle and let himself indulge just this once.

that’s all it was – kissing and kissing in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor until there was no more oxygen left in either of your lungs. like a decent human being, he dropped you off at your apartment and bid you goodnight, hoping that you wouldn’t forget all the events that had transpired. and maybe, just maybe, he wished that you would let it happen again, that you could make him the exception in your plans.

evidently, you did remember it, because suddenly your responses to his texts were delayed and dry. you were picking up extra shifts, showing up to class at the very last minute, and leaving as soon as the professor dismissed you, allowing practically no room for him to make small talk. and while he would usually pass you in the halls of the chem building at some point, you were always too far from him and scurrying away in a different direction. tetsurou did his best to give you your space, but the less he saw of you, the more nervous and frustrated he grew. there was a wrench thrown into his daily routine, and your presence had always managed to bring some peace to him. so when he realized that you had truly abandoned your usual study spot in the library a week and a half later, he set himself on a mission to find out exactly where you were hiding.

it honestly had been sheer luck that he saw your figure ducking around into a hallway he’s never bothered to go down, and by the time he caught up, the door to the graduate resource room had just closed on your and there was no way he could get in without some help. luckily, his mentor who had stayed at the university for their phd was pretty nonchalant about letting him borrow it for a few days, preferring to study at home or in a coffee shop off-campus themselves.

he knew that since you were hiding, you were probably going to be in the most inconspicuous spot possible. so while there was some time dedicated to navigating the new maze of an area, he immediately felt a sense of relief when he saw your back hunched over your notes, hair tied up into a messy bun, and your laptop open with a spotify playlist.

after you’re done reminiscing, you begin to pack your stuff up, opting to just nor respond to tetsurou and ignoring the pleasant sensation that his term of endearment for you brought. he pulls back and stands straight to give you some room, but the tapping of his foot against the tile floor speaks to his blooming agitation at your silence. you’re still wordless as you weave between the shelves to the exit, knowing that the man plaguing your dreams is not far behind. the game of ‘follow the leader’ (or is it ‘cat and mouse’?) continues until you both have exited the main door, and right before you can walk down the granite steps, tetsurou seizes the opportunity to run ahead of you and stand in your way.

“tetsu, please,” you sigh, avoiding his piercing stare by fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “is there something you need?”

“you can’t play coy with me,” he chastises, bending down slightly in hopes that you’ll finally look at him. “you know why i’m here.”

it’s a bad habit of yours to nibble on the inside of your lips when you’re searching for the right things to say. tetsurou only picked up on it just last year – the action itself is very subtle to the outside viewer, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention back then. “don’t bullshit me right now.”

“do we have to do this now?” you whine a bit.

“yes, or else i’m never gonna get you to talk to me. come on, you don’t do this, love.”

“what do you mean?”

“you’re running away. that’s pretty cowardly, don’t you think? you’ve had 3 weeks—”

you start to walk forward and around his tall, lanky figure. “i’m not humoring you with this—”

“with what—”

“—you’re doing that provoking thing, you’re trying to get me to think that i’m wrong in avoiding you—”

“so you have been avoiding me—”

“i said not now!” you protest in a raised voice, path once again blocked. tears of frustration are beginning to build in the corners of your eyes, and you’re cursing yourself for feeling so weak in this moment. part of you wants nothing more than to run into his arms.

it’s dead quiet for a few seconds – the ambient noise of the wind and the occasional passing car this late at night fail to make themselves known over the pounding of blood in your ears. only tetsurou’s first knuckle underneath your chin to raise you up grounds you, and you can no longer avoid his gaze. small crests of guilt wash over you as you recognize the uncharacteristic brokenness in his eyes – the last three weeks must’ve been much harder on him than you thought.

“just hear me out for a few minutes, okay? you can make your decision then.”

he takes your nod as a signal to continue, but also softening a bit at how nervous you look.

“i’m in love with you,” he softly confesses, a smile of defeat gracing his complexion. “and i have been for a while. i don’t think i’m bullshitting when i say i think you feel something for me, too, but i knew it wasn’t in your plans. didn’t wanna push or force you into making a decision when you weren’t ready. so i held back – but i couldn’t help it at the party, and…i’m sorry, love. i really am.”

tetsurou doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes. “so does that mean you regret it?” you bite out, nails clenching and digging into the fabric of your jacket sleeves. he shakes his head.

“i don’t regret kissing you at all – it’s all i’ve wanted to do for the last two and a half years. but i’m just sorry that i did it without your explicit, sober permission. i went against your wishes in a time of vulnerability, and that’s pretty shitty of me – i’m not gonna excuse myself either just because i was a little drunk, so i hope you’re able to forgive me.”

he watches you sniffle and fight the grin that’s trying to creep across your face. “someone had their shot of respect women juice this morning, didn’t they?” you chokingly tease.

“five shots directly injected into my veins, every morning,” he jokes back, thumb sweeping over to catch your falling tears. “but i mean it though – i’m really sorry.”

“you’re forgiven, and i appreciate that more than you know. but if i’m being honest…it was something i’ve wanted to do for a while, too. i was just really scared because it was so unexpected and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for our relationship to change, or like if i would be emotionally available enough for you, y’know?” you blubber, hand reaching up to rest against his on your cheek.

“hey—”

“i really want this to work out.” tetsurou can hear your voice shake, and he’s sure you’re almost trembling. “you’re one of my best friends – i can’t lose you, tetsu. and what about grad school? what if we end up too far away from each other and video calls aren’t enough? what if you get tired of me or—”

“i know you hate it when i interrupt, but honestly (y/n), you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. i’m gonna do everything i can to make this work, too, mmk?”

“okay,” you whisper. “okay.”

his thumb gently sweeps back and forth against your cheek for a little bit before speaking up again. “not to ruin the moment, but do i have permission to kiss you now?” his eyes shine despite the midnight sky, and you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your chest.

tetsurou swears up and down that your kiss in response is much, much sweeter than the one at the party, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for you two.

[malfoysmaybank]

a/n: ofc! honestly i love this little idea bc it’s vv me hdbfubfjhsdbfjebfer the pet name i used was bubba/bubs/bub because IMAGINE JJ CALLING YOU THAT PLEASE. also for specific details this is a kook reader haha

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JJ was good and pissed with you. You weren’t taking care of yourself and you were overworking yourself with school. He wanted, no needed you to take a break. This quarantine had taken a toll on both of you. Since you and your family didn’t want JJ staying at home for however long this would last, JJ stayed at your house under the expectation that you two wouldn’t be up to anything but don’t worry, you knew how to be quiet. 

“Y/N, take a break, you’ve been doing homework since noon.” JJ groaned. “JJ, I just need to get these 2 essays done by midnight.” You said groggily. JJ walked over to your desk and shut your laptop. “What the fuck, dude?” you snapped, waking up a little bit from the loud noise. “Y/N, you haven’t taken your eyes off of that screen for more than a goddamn second since September! You need to take a break, for your sanity and mine.” He said sharply. You were taken aback but continued. 

“I can’t fail this semester, my parents would kill me!” You were getting louder. “They’re out on a grocery run, just take a break until they come back!” He challenged your volume. “Why can’t you just let me get this done?!” You screamed. He was on the other side of the room at this point and no matter how bad you wanted to just hug him, you couldn’t.

“Because! You’ve had this ‘all work no care’ attitude for way too long. All I want is for you to be happy and healthy, bubs!” He said. Once you heard him call you that, you were done. “Just... come here please.” You said and he walked towards you. You held out your hands in a grabby motion. He gathered you in his arms and kissed your forehead. 

“Let’s just calm down, take a shower, and watch a movie or something. I can even do the assignments for you, I think I already did them so I’ll just change the words up a little bit.” He said softly as you felt the vibrations of him talking through his chest. “I’d like that. And thank you, I really owe you, JJ.” You sniffled, feeling awful for yelling at him when all he wanted to do was help you. “Don’t worry about it, bubba.”

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a/n; PLEASE this was so cute and fun to write, I’m currently working on more requests but feel free to send in more! I have school again tomorrow plssss.

[dewykth]

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle​​​ and @dewykth​​​ collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj  word count. 7.5k+  warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr​​​​ !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳  i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter. 

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head. 

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry. 

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel. 

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation. 

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go?  Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

[lovieebby]

dreaded corner

a/n: i know this isn’t the oneshot/fic i promised but here’s something i whipped up! i thought since i’ve imagined for a hot minute that id just spit it out. thank you @viking-raider for rereading this for me 😂 ily & also i apologize again bc im posting this thru my phone so im sorry if the formats funky!!

summary: you thought you could be a big girl, instead its sassy and rude and daddy is fed tf up.

word count: 2.2k (wowza)

pairing: henry cavill x reader (y/n)

warnings: um henry himself? implyed smut, sub!reader, daddy henry is fed up, description of readers pussee, i made a bad pun, that cursed blue tank top

tag list: @hell1129-blog 😘

you and henry have been dating for some time now and your sex life was off the charts, but about six months ago you both had started dabbling in the bdsm dynamics as a couple. henry already knew what he was doing, you, not so much. you had an idea but you never really completely understood how to be a submissive, you where naturally that way in the bedroom but anywhere else outside of that felt off to you and plus you never had a dom that was as strict and as serious in this lifestyle as henry, your past partners just in it for the hype of the kinky sex.

you loved being his submissive but it was hard at first, you had always looked out for yourself and so it became a habit to take things into your own control and set up walls. but after time and love henry slowly took down those walls and you where able to trust him with your whole being. after a while, you really loved being taken care of and being able to hand the control over to someone else, it feeling like you could finally breathe.

you felt like you where a genuine good submissive, theres never really a right or wrong way either, henry had told you, easing your mind when you had gotten concerned. most days you listened, wanting to please him and get praised for it. you lived to be a good girl for him, but some days where more rough than normal. some days you just wanted to be independent and in charge of yourself, doing what you please, and more often than not, henry caught on to it fast and put you back into your place.

you stood in the kitchen, standing by the fridge trying to figure out what to drink. you rubbed your ass, stinging still from the spankings you got earlier. ten hard swats on each cheek and you didn’t get to orgasm once the first punishment was over, no orgasm was your second punishment.

bummer.

henry sat in the living room, on his laptop replying to an email. he wore his blue tank top with his sweat pants, feet perched up on the ottoman. he had started an email once he had given you the much needed aftercare and reassurance. you both had cleaned up taking a shower together and getting into your lazy day clothes.

henry heard the fridge being closed roughly and the shelves within it shaking. he had talked about this with you time and time again, you used to do it at your own home, but now you two lived together, so that meant respecting your surroundings. what was so hard about that?

“don’t slam it, please.” he had said, making eye contact with you when you spun around to look at him.

“i didn’t! it was the suction from the door!” you explained, getting a little snappy with him, not wanting to get caught that you did, in fact, do it again. you turned around, not wanting to be called out, and made yourself busy looking in another cabinet for something to snack on.

henry looked at you questionably that quickly turned into a stern disapproving glare, “don’t talk back to me,” he sighed out, turning back to his email. he thought your attitude dissolved, clearly it just doubled.

“i’m not, im just defending myself,” you sassed out quietly, making a mocking face while you searched in the cabnet.

“excuse me?” his voice boomed out. he pressed hard on the send button, sending the email, he didn’t bother double checking if everything was typed out correctly. henry moved the laptop over to the empty seat. he crossed his arms, frowning at you, surprised at your returned attitude.

“did you fart?” you sassed again, closing the cabinets, you spun around and crossed your arms. coping him while leaning on the counter arching your eyebrow, biting the inside of your cheek.

bad move, bad move (y/n).

henry was baffled, you just got done with a punishment not even an hour ago. he had beaten your ass pretty well, and he rarely had to do that. he thought if you wanted a challenge, you would quickly lose. he stood up from the couch, and slowly walked to you, once he got the the kitchen island he put his hands down, spreading his fingers out. he towered over you even if it was a couple feet away, his eyes piercing into you, daring you to continue your attitude.

he’s never had to punish you multiple times in one day, but if it was needed, he was going to.

“little girl,” he started, his voice dropping an octave, “drop the attitude, i won’t tell you again.”

“fine.” you snapped, you where definitely not going to. “but i didn’t slam the door.”

“(y/n), i don’t care,” he punctuated each word, leaning forward.

“i didn’t though! i’m not lying!” you threw your hands down, almost stomping your foot on the floor.

you where acting out, you knew he was getting back in his dominant role, but you where serious too! you didn’t want to be dominated at the moment. you didn’t want to say your safe word, it wasn’t needed, you were just being a brat. you just wanted to be you for two seconds, not henry’s baby, you felt big.

“alright, get over here.” he stood up straight, walking away from the counter, clinching his jaw. he was fed up, you had no reason to act this way and he was quickly going to put you in your place.

you suddenly realized that you became a big mean brat more than a big girl, now you wanted the floor to eat you whole, like right now. utterly embarrassed that you thought you where so confident about yourself and your actions. you didn’t want to move, frozen under his glare, you where already thinking of what he was going to do, and you where praying he wasn’t going to swat your ass again, his spanks weren’t light and your ass was as rosey as ever.

“move it missy,” he said, snapping his finger down in front of him where he wanted you, “now.”

you slowly moved to him, your confidence completely leaving your body as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. you stood in front of him, not making eye contact, his eyes too intimidating. if you looked at him, you’d beg for forgiveness, but at the moment you where still trying to hold on to a useless lie.

henry breathed in deep and let it out slow through his nose, he knows its hard for you sometimes to comply and completely listen but you both agreed to the rules henry had set. he let you stand there, making you think. it also gave him a moment to calm down, he didn’t want to just lash out and show his frustration, but he still wants you to know who’s the boss.

he honestly just wanted to sit down with you and junk out after getting his business done, but clearly he needed to punish you again because apparently you didn’t get the memo the first time.

“we agreed on the rules, did we not?” he questioned you, crossing his arms. he looked out at you, you looked anywhere but him.

you nodded your head, agreeing with him.

“oh, now you have nothing to say?” he taunted, ticking his jaw. “you had so much to say earlier.”

“we did.” you whispered, looking down at your fidgeting hands.

“look at me when i’m talking to you,” henry gripped your chin, tilting your face up to him. you whimpered dropping your hands to your side, his grip making your bottom lip jut out.

“if you don’t agree with the rules, you know what to say, if not, shut it,” he sternly watched you, waiting for you to say something, putting a little more pressure into his grip, shaking your face a bit, waiting for you to say the word. when you didn’t, he continued, “now i don’t know what got into you, to think you can speak to me like that, but that needs to end. quit your shit and stand in the corner, hands behind your back.”

you frowned, opening your mouth in disbelief, now you where upset all over again, the submission leaving your body. you’ve been put in time out a couple times but right now you weren’t feeling it, this is dumb!

“like a kid?!” you loudly questioned.

“yes! because you’re acting like one!” he let go of your face and with one hand he pushed you to the corner by the breakfast table with his other, he pointed to the known corner.

you picked up your feet and scoffed, this was unfair, you weren’t a child! you clinched your jaw when you got the corner, so frustrated you screamed in your mouth.

once henry heard you whining and carrying on he walked up behind you and smacked you ass, harder than he intended but it worked, he needed to make a point. you gasped and jolted forwards, bracing your hands on the wall, your ass was still tinder. he stood behind you, putting his hands up on the wall caging you in. he put his mouth right next to your ear.

“you did this to yourself, so take your punishment like a big girl and shut up. i don’t want to hear you.” he said, leaning into you, making himself known, “you don’t run shit here missy, and i’m here to remind you of that.”

he pushed off the wall, backing up from you and smacked your stinging ass again, giving a warning. you held your whine in and closed your eyes tight.

he turned around and stood by the counter, he looked down at his watch and set a timer for twenty minutes, he could probably get some small chores done, so he could waste time waiting on you. he didn’t want to stand there and watch you because you’d notice and probably say something and he just didn’t want to hear it. you where always so good, but when you got bratty and sassy, he nipped that shit quick, not wanting it to happen again. as he was leaving the room and gave kal a quick pat to follow him, he doesn’t need you petting him while you’re in your corner.

you were embarrassed to say the least, you were in a corner with your hands behind you, flustered in an uncomfortable wetness from your arousal. henry made you flustered on any given day but when he became daddy, it was so much more worse. you where still soaked from the first spanking and from the rough sex you just had earlier.

you moved side to side discretely, you only wore an over sized cotton tee with your soft sleep shorts with no panties, not wanting any extra material on your bum, the shorts already a little scratchy on your bruised cheeks.

regretting your attitude, you wanted to apologize, but you knew if you spoke up, you would get reprimanded from henry. so you stood there, trying to pass the time by trying to find shapes on the textured wall.

after some time you noticed you haven’t heard henry, you perked up and peeked over your shoulder, you didn’t see henry anywhere not even kal. usually if you tapped the wall kal would come over and you could at least have some type of company. you tapped the wall a couple times, but no response from the pup. you turned back around to the corner, trying to patently wait, wanting to be good for your daddy.

what felt like hours, you finally heard henry come back into the kitchen, pulling a chair out from the breakfast table and assuming, sitting down in said chair. you wanted to apologize so bad, you weren’t ever bad like this before, you felt terrible for being snappy and bratty at him. but you stayed and waited for him to tell you, you could come out.

“come here baby,” he said, patting his thigh.

you looked over your shoulder, shrinking into yourself a little apprehensive about moving, “you sure daddy?” you softly asked, you didn’t even know if you wanted to leave the corner, you where rude.

he chuckled softly, he patted his thigh again, “yes i’m sure baby, come on.”

you turned around and stood between his legs, you put your left hand over your shoulder, messing with the hem of your tee shirt. “i’m sorry daddy, i was rude and i really did close the fridge hard.” you said as you rose your head to look at him.

“i know, you don’t lie very well,” he smirked, rubbing the back of your thigh, loving the feeling of your warm skin. “you know why you went into your corner, right?”

you breathed in, sighing, “because i got snappy with you,” you said, henry blinked and gave you a knowing look, waiting for you to continue, “and that i lied.” you quickly said the rest.

he hummed, nodding his head, “good job baby, you did good.” he squeezed your thigh, as you relaxed and put both of your hands on his thighs leaning into him.

you smiled sheepishly and leaned all the way down to give him a kiss. when henry kissed back, he put his other hand on the back of your head, softly intertwining his fingers to massage your scalp.

he pulled back, looking at you intently, “don’t lie again, i like having my good baby.” you nodded your head and gave gave him another kiss.

a/n: thank you guys for reading, feedback is always nice so dont be afraid to say something 🥰

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 6: Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Finally, I write most of the chapter before the day I’m supposed to post it. This was mostly done on my laptop (which I’m not used to) as we just moved and my PC is barely set up, so forgive anything that looks weird or wonky. As always, I hope you enjoy. I love getting all your kind messages <3 (Also message me if you want to be on the taglist - I suppose I should be better about that!)

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 6, Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter Summary: Events during a new case test your ability to keep your feelings hidden, and a night out takes an unforeseen turn. 

Words: 3736

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Turns out, lying to Hotch was easier than you thought.

It helped that you were lying to yourself too, of course - that you pretended your gaze didn't linger on his form whenever he was in your vicinity, that the swell of pride in your chest when he agreed with something you said was purely professional. There were times, though, that the facade was much harder to maintain. The most recent case had been one of those times.

You had been tracking down an unsub abducting children in a rural Iowa town. Three kids had gone missing in the span of two weeks, and after Garcia matched the victimology and MO with neighboring states, it looked to be close to a dozen in the years before that. The case started off rough enough - locals refused to believe it could be one of their own, police resisted the BAU’s guidance, the usual - but it came to a head when a fourth child went missing during the investigation.

Thankfully, the team figured out the identity of the unsub relatively quickly. Reid did a geographical profile of all the locations where victims were taken and found a public health clinic that had branches in each area. Garcia cross-checked the employee records to find that only one doctor had done travel shifts at each clinic during the time the children were taken, and within minutes, you were rushing to his address.

The SUV carrying Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss arrived long enough before yours that by the time you pulled up, they were already kicking down the door and entering the home. The first thing you heard after you flung the car door open was the deafening crack of a weapon firing, and despite your lack of training with firearms, it was apparent that it was not an FBI-issue pistol.

You would never describe yourself as fragile - you couldn't be, not in this line of work. But when you registered the implications of that sound, your knees buckled, instantly bringing you down onto the dusty ground outside the farmhouse. The rest of the team sprinted in, guns drawn. You faintly registered Prentiss yelling inside, then more gunshots, but your head was ringing so loudly from the visceral panic that you couldn’t make out anything specific.

When Hotch burst back out onto the porch, you thought you might honestly sob with relief. That is, until you caught the glint of the sun in the slick, dark blood dripping down the sleeve of his suit.

That was when you puked.

Something about the sight of Aaron Hotchner bleeding felt so wrong that even as you struggled to your feet and stepped over the pile of sick you left in the dirt, even as you got closer and saw the rivulets of blood drip down to his fingertips and dot the wooden floors of the porch, you felt like you were in a dream. Your mind couldn’t grasp the sudden shock of his mortality, that he could bleed, that he could die, even, and he very well might, depending on what vessels were hit. You made it up the steps, only managing to call out his name - his first name - your throat still burning from bile. Despite the chaos of the current moment, he still whipped his head around at the sound of that, as if hearing the name Aaron desperately falling from your lips was more attention-grabbing than the rest of the team gathering around him trying to stem the bleeding.

“It looks worse than it is,” said Rossi, peering through the holes in Hotch’s mangled sleeve. “It was just buckshot, and he barely hit you. Nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

He turned out to be right, thank god, and later that afternoon, Hotch was freshly bandaged and sitting across from you on the return flight to Quantico.

So, yeah, the “lying to yourself” thing wasn’t going so well at that moment. Hotch was absorbed in paperwork while the rest of the team napped - because of course he was; even being shot didn’t sway his apparently relentless refusal to relax - and each time he winced at the movement of his arm, your vice grip around your chest tightened a little more.

He must have sensed you staring, because he looked up, frown softening slightly as he saw the concern on your face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he assured you with a half smile.

Teetering on an emotional precipice, too scared to respond for fear of falling over the edge, you went back to your reading. After a few minutes of listening to him write while not turning a single page in your book, he set his pen down and took a breath.

“You were screaming my name,” he said, quietly, despite you two being the only ones awake.

“What?”

“Earlier,” he clarified, “when we went into the house. I could hear you outside, yelling my name.”

You looked at him, incredulous. “Of course I did. I heard the shotgun go off. Clearly,” you gestured at his arm, “I had a reason to be worried.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, as if you didn’t understand the question. “Dave and Emily were with me. Any of us could have gotten hit. You only yelled for me.”

Oh.

You shrugged. “You’re the team leader. It’s my instinct to call for you when something goes wrong."

It was a lie, and a bad one at that, but Hotch gave you an unreadable look and let the subject drop.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and when you finally made it back to your apartment, you had no plans other than to sleep off the stress of the case and the embarrassment of Hotch calling your actions into question. Garcia, however, wasn't about to let that happen.

BAU-tiful People Group Chat

Garcia: *added You to the conversation*

Garcia: Ok, my lovely children, I know you’re all tired, but I miss your faces, so I’ll see u at Whimsy tonight at 9! Notice I didn’t use a question mark bc it is NOT a question!

You knew from overhearing the team talk that Whimsy was a bar downtown they liked to frequent, but you’d never been invited before. Despite your overwhelming exhaustion, the idea of going out with the team, of finally feeling accepted by them, was enough to make you amenable to the concept. It may have seemed insignificant on the surface, but Garcia adding you to their group chat was the biggest welcome gesture you’d received yet.

Morgan: Only if you wear that dress you know I like ;)

You lived for the day they would realize they were actually flirting with each other instead of just pretending to.

Prentiss: Garcia… you’re killing me… but you know I’ll be there.

JJ: Contacting the babysitter as we speak.

Morgan: Fuck yeah!!! Pretty Boy, you in?

Reid: Can’t we ever go somewhere quiet?

As the group chimed in with various iterations of, “Shut up, Reid,” you hesitantly typed out a text to confirm your attendance. You were excited, of course, but nervous to be the new kid at their favorite hangout. After today's events, though, the desire not to be sober won out over nerves.

You: I’ll be there! Thanks for the invite!

Rossi: Hope you kids are ready for me to drink you under the table, as usual.

Morgan: Eyyy, you KNOW we party hard! See y’all tonight.

____________

Turns out, Morgan was not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. By the time you arrived, 15 minutes late, everyone looked to be at least 3 shots deep. Garcia ran over to greet you, squealing, and wrapped you in a suffocating hug.

“I’m so glad you came! What do you drink? Tequila? I’ll grab the next round!”

You laughed and confirmed that tequila sounded great, and as she scurried off to the bar with Morgan on her heels, you had a chance to look around.

The atmosphere of the club surprised you - it was all glass and steel and modernity, packed with people dancing to something with intense bass - not the low-key joint you’d pictured the team wanting to unwind at. But as you watched JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi cheer on Reid as he threw back a shot, doubling over in hysterics as he coughed and sputtered at the taste, you realized that this place was just loud and energetic enough to keep them from thinking about anything other than work. In that way, you definitely saw the appeal.

“I come bearing shots!” Garcia yelled as her and Morgan made it back to the table. “Grab yours… here we go- whoops! Alright, everyone got theirs?”

She turned to you, grinning behind a pair of hot pink spectacles. “Cheers not ONLY to rescuing four kidnapped children alive, but also to our lovely intern and her first Whimsy outing!”

The team erupted in cheers and you smiled back, downing the tequila. You chatted with the group while Garcia ordered more drinks, and then more drinks, and soon you felt a pleasant buzz filling your head.

“Morgan, you better ask me to dance right now before I go find another man to do the job,” Garcia said with a wink in his direction.

Morgan grinned and mock-bowed, holding out a hand for her to take, and led her off to the dancefloor.

“Should we join them?” JJ asked around the table.

“Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t do anything worth getting kicked out for,” Prentiss shot back. You giggled and followed the girls, leaving Rossi and Reid behind at the table in the midst of a heated debate about childhood brain development that you couldn’t even hope to comprehend.

Not long after you started dancing, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and turned around, looking up into the stunning green eyes of a man who looked to be about your age. It was hard to really tell what he looked like in the dim lighting, but by the way Prentiss was giving you a thumbs up and mouthing, “Go for it,” from your side, he was good enough for you.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked above the music. You smiled and nodded in confirmation, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to his hips.

He knew how to move, that was for certain. He ground against your backside lightly, snaking his hands around your stomach. You weren’t used to this kind of thing - dancing with random men at bars, letting them touch you like this - but the combination of the music and the booze and the relief at the last case being over was making you feel more free than you had in recent memory.

You exchanged grins with Morgan, who was dancing a few feet away in a much more R-rated manner with Garcia. The man behind you (whose name you didn’t know, but who cared?) leaned down to kiss your neck and you arched against him in response, reaching up to run your hand through his hair.

Throughout the song, you had rotated back to facing the table where the rest of your team was sitting. You glanced over, saw Reid and Rossi still deep in discussion, along with another man in a black button-up with a very familiar side profile and-

Hotch.

Hotch was here, and as if the powers that be were insistent upon proving to you that the opposite of serendipity existed, at the exact moment you had that realization, he turned and made direct eye contact with you. Drunk, wearing a skintight dress, a random man grinding on your ass, and staring right back at your Unit Chief at the motherfucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and if you had been drunker, you might have hurled tequila all over the dancefloor. Instead, you pulled away from the mystery man behind you, ignoring his shocked, “Wait!” and beelined to the bar.

“Tequila. Shot. Please, I’m sorry, just saw someone I didn’t expect to,” you blurted out to the bartender, swearing you could feel Hotch’s eyes on your back from across the club.

The bartender, probably having seen much worse, nodded in understanding and poured your drink. You gulped it down, wiped your mouth, and leaned on the bar to get your bearings.

It’s not weird. It’s not. It’s a bar, it’s outside of work hours, it’s perfectly fine that you’re buzzed and dancing and having fun. Everyone else is!

Really, it wasn’t that you were worried about your job, or even that he would judge you (he probably would, but that was unavoidable regardless of the setting), it was just that you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for the possibility that he would come. He was in the group chat - obviously, if he had seen Garcia’s invite - but had never struck you as the social type, the kind of boss that would interact with his team outside of work.

“Did you see that Hotch is here?” Prentiss asked breathlessly, appearing at the bar beside you.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one surprised.

“I did,” you whispered back, despite the thumping music and the rowdy patrons making it logically impossible for your words to reach the table 20 feet away. “Does he usually join you guys?”

“Never,” she said, before thinking and correcting herself, “Not in years, anyways. When Haley… we used to drag him out, but we stopped after a while.”

“Why do you think he came tonight?"

She shrugged. “Who knows? Far be it from me to explain why Hotch does anything.” An idea seemed to pop in her head, and she grinned. “Maybe it’s because of you!”

“M-me?” Your reaction to the suggestion wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as you’d tried for, but Prentiss was too drunk to notice.

“Yeah, gotta help initiate the intern on her first night out, right?” She grinned and clapped you on the shoulder, then turned away to head back to the dancefloor, leaving you alone. You sighed, gathered yourself as much as you could considering the effects of the tequila, and turned around to go greet him.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Yes, well. Thought I’d show up for a bit; it’s been a while.” He gave you a tight lipped smile then looked back down at his glass of whisky, the awkward energy palpable.

Probably because he just saw you basically dry-humping some random dude.

“Well, I’m glad you came! Feel free to, uh, come dance if you want! Morgan and Garcia are showing us all up,” you said, gesturing to where Morgan and Garcia were in fact drawing the attention of several onlookers.

He chuckled at that. “They’re certainly a sight to behold, aren’t they?”

You nodded in agreement and headed back to the bar, the brief conversation pointing you towards yet another drink. Talking to him was so easy , sometimes, and others it was like pulling teeth to get a human response out of him. Could you blame him, though? Your last one-on-one interaction was you basically inviting yourself over to his apartment with takeout and listening to him spill his guts about his dead wife and kid, and he probably felt uncomfortable with you after that, and then you went right to this case without any chance for things to go back to normal, and then he got shot, and oh my god, you didn’t even ask him how his arm was doing, how fucking rude can you be, dumbass? and-

“Whoops! Shit, I’m sorry!”

You looked at the person you’d just bumped into in the midst of your internal crisis.

“Hey, it’s you!”

The man you’d been dancing with earlier, now much more obviously handsome in the brighter lights of the bar area, grinned in recognition.

“Hey, I thought I’d scared you off there!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. Just saw my boss and freaked out a little bit.”

“Oh shit, your boss is here?” he asked. “That’s uncomfortable, damn. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it’s just… yeah. Anyways. Wanna pick up where we left off?” you asked, more desperate than ever to get Hotch out of your head. If he didn’t want to see you having a wild night, he shouldn’t have come to the club.

He took your hand, looking pleased. “Lead the way.”

It really was so much easier, you thought, to let yourself feel attraction for guys like this. Uncomplicated, willing to take what you give them, no backstory to speak of. They weren’t riddled with tragic history, unattainable in both position and personality, not to mention impossible to even imagine ever returning your feelings. Guys like Cooper (you’d finally learned his name somewhere amid the grinding and groping) were easy and fun and they didn’t keep you up at night agonizing over whether that thing you said at work was impressive enough.

But then again, they didn’t give you the roller-coaster feeling in your stomach that Aaron Hotchner did every time you locked eyes.

And lock eyes you did - an increasingly frequent number of times, actually. It seemed like whenever you turned to face his direction, he was staring you down. He always went back to his conversation with Rossi and Reid, but you noticed that he seemed to get more and more pissed off with every song that played. His frown was deepened, his expression dark, and you could tell even from a distance that his knuckles were white from gripping his glass.

You shrugged it off as Hotch being Hotch - who knew what that man was thinking? And besides, you were trying to forget him, damn it. At least, that was until a particularly raunchy song came on and you were in the middle of getting your ass felt up, when you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder and whip you around, bringing you face-to-face with your boss himself.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” you asked, utterly bewildered as to why he was interrupting you.

He ignored you, instead staring down Cooper, who very quickly decided Hotch wasn’t one to fuck with and walked away.

“Hotch! Is there a case? Should I grab the others?”

He shook his head. “Can you come with me, please?”

Perplexed, you acquiesced (not that you had much of a choice, with the way he was gripping your elbow) and followed him through the crowd, out the back door, and into an alley. He let go of you then, sighing and crossing his arms.

Your mind was wild with questions - did you do something you shouldn’t have? Get too drunk? Everyone was drunk, though, and you weren’t even half as wasted as some of the others. Did Reid or Rossi tell him something bad about you? Were you about to somehow get yourself fired off the clock?

“The boy you were dancing with was bad news,” he said, after an uncomfortably long period of silence.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” you repeated, this time out loud, and you knew you shouldn’t be talking to him like this, but you were too caught off guard to conduct yourself more appropriately.

“He was a drug user,” Hotch said, as if that would explain everything.

“A drug user,” you repeated back, no less confused.

“Cocaine,” he continued. “He was high - his pupils were dilated, he was rubbing his nose, and he's been to the bathroom several times.”

“So… you’re going to arrest him? For doing cocaine?” you asked, still baffled as to what he was insinuating.

“What? No,” he said, “I’m trying to warn you not to get involved.”

You had entered some parallel universe, you decided. There was no other explanation for your boss, a man you’d known all of four months, dragging you outside a bar on a Friday night and telling you not to dance with a hot stranger because he was on cocaine.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you really did get yourself fired. “Sir, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think it’s really any of your business.”

His face hardened at that. “It is exactly my business,” he said, eyes boring a hole through your skull, “to watch out for things that may compromise my team.”

“Compromise your team?” you repeated his words again. “I was dancing, not getting engaged to the guy.”

“Should I allow you to dance with a sexual sadist if it’s just dancing?” he pressed, using the stern voice that usually caused any sort of dissent to whither and die right in your throat.

It didn’t work this time, probably because he was acting fucking insane. “Are you seriously comparing a sexual sadist to a guy who does cocaine while he’s out partying?”

“It’s not just while he’s out partying, by the way he conducted himself, he was a chronic-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you said, nearly yelling now. “You had no right! I'm sorry, what are you, my dad?!”

His eyes flashed at that. “If I hadn’t already had to sit through an 8 hour surgery not knowing if Garcia was going to make it out alive because her date shot her, then perhaps I would have no right. But as it stands, I do. Please be more careful with who you associate with, even if it’s just dancing.”

He spat that last part out, more vitriolic than you’d ever seen him, and stalked back inside. You were left outside in the alley, alone, reeling from confusion surrounding the entire interaction and shock at the emotional charge he’d leveled at you.

Reentering the bar, you saw that Hotch’s seat had been vacated and his jacket was gone. You rolled your eyes, and on your way to the bathroom, nearly ran into Cooper again.

“Hey!” he said. “What was that all about? You good?”

You looked up at his face and for the first time, noticed faint traces of white dust around his nose. He looked keyed up, jumpy - his pulse racing and visible on his carotid. You sighed.

“I’m good. Just not in the mood right now, sorry,” and pushed past him into the bathroom.

Hotch was an emotionally stunted asshole with a control complex, but he was also never fucking wrong.

[alitaimagines]

“the stars shining right above you. the night breezes seem to you whisper I love you. birds singing in the sycamore, dream a little dream of me.” 

PORCO GALLIARD ☆ ATTACK ON TITAN

☆ previous imagine: ♡ ☆ masterlists: ♡ ♡ 

☆ note: when season four drops, remember who fed yall bc I know you bitches finna be SIMPIN over my mans. 

“marry me,” Porco whispered in your ear, “marry me right here, right now. what’s stopping us?” he asked you as he stared into your eyes intensely. 

your eyes widened at the sudden question, “Porco, baby, what are you on about? what brought this on?” you responded trying to get him as clear headed as possible. 

Porco stood up from bed as you covered up your body with his blanket. he had that crazy look in his eye and you knew whenever Porco got this way, he wouldn’t drop it, at least not for a while. 

“because we can!” he exclaimed making you look at the blond with even more excitedly, “Porco, you’re not making any sense,” you tried to rationalize, “we need to think this through. we can’t just get married. that would be very stupid of us,” you told him. 

the two of you stared at each other not knowing what to say to each other. Porco grabbed your hand softly and held it up to where his heart was. Porco was never this soft with you unless he had done something he wasn’t supposed to do and knew you were going to get mad at him. 

“hear me out. I have a promise ring in my cabinet as we speak. I know it isn’t an engagement ring but we’re fucking college students so cut me a break. I love you and you love me so why not just do it?” 

you couldn’t help but laugh at his wild proposition. the two of you had been dating each other since your junior year of high school and although you both were college juniors now, the idea of marriage, especially so suddenly, caught you off guard. 

“I mean, what about your parents? and mine! if they find out we up and got married so quickly, they’re going to physically kill us. we won’t even make it to our honeymoon!” 

Porco was caught with his tail between his legs for a moment. he had never thought of that before and he knew that if his mom was not present for his sons marriage, she probably would actually kill him. that is if Marcel didn’t kill him first.

“they’ll get over it. you’ve never doubted me before and you shouldn’t stop now.” 

you grasped Porco’s hand and gave him a faint smile, “okay, lets do it. we need a witness and there’s not many people just willing to do that for us,” you reminded him as the two of you got dressed quickly. 

Porco waved that thought off immediately. he knew the one person who he had complete trust in and wouldn’t question him about it either. 

you both ran out of the dorm room as he told you to follow him up to the girls level of the residential building. you were sporting one of Porco’s band t-shirts and biker shorts which you knew you would get berated for later. 

the two of you landed at Pieck’s door. you knew that was Porco’s best friend and once you got together with Porco, you both eventually grew close with each other. 

“Pieck, don’t ask questions, we just need you to come with us,” Porco exclaimed making Pieck become frazzled, “wait, what? I’m not leaving until I at least get a vague answer to wherever it is you’re dragging me too,” she replied remaining at the door. 

“we’re going to court house to get married. our appointment is like in twenty minutes! are you coming or not?” Porco screamed as Pieck stared even more frazzled than before, “well, are you coming or not? we gotta go and you’re our witness!” you exclaimed as she grabbed her shoes off the shoe rack and quickly slipped them on. 

“you both are a bunch of fucking idiots.”

-

you were sitting with Marcel at lunch. both of you were swapping Organic Chem notes and trying to study. you were a year younger than Marcel but you had taken up advanced classes and befriended him. you knew that he had a brother in your grade but you had yet to meet him. 

“if our teacher doesn’t kill us, do it for me?” you asked making him laugh, “i can’t do that. I want to graduate this year and you need to make it to your senor year,” he replied making you playfully roll your eyes. 

you stayed looking down at your notes, not bothering to pay attention to your surroundings until you heard Marcel talking to someone. you took off your headphones to see who he was talking too and to your surprise, he was very attractive. 

“oh, ( your name ), this is my brother Porco,” he introduced, “Porco, this is ( your name ), the other pain in my ass,” you gave him a pout as Porco bent over the table to shake your hand. 

now that you put the name to face, you had saw Porco around school a few times. he was the quarterback of the school and saw him on multiple occasions fighting with the blond kicker of his team. his anger was one rumor that surrounded him.

“well, if you want to be with your brother, I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked Marcel, “I have to stop at my locker and I wouldn’t want to intrude any longer,” you said packing up your laptop and shoving it inside of your book bag. 

Marcel shook his head, “you’re not intruding. he just needed to get our car keys but if you need to leave, I’ll just see you tomorrow in chem,” you nodded waving the brothers off.

what Marcel and you had failed to see was that you dropped one of you keychains on the ground. it was a small anime keychain but if you were anything like his brother, you probably wanted it back. 

not only that but Porco didn’t know his brother was friends with someone so cute. he had seen you a few times around school. mostly with the clubs you were involved in and other times talking with your friends by your locker. nevertheless, giving back your keychain was another reason to talk to you again. this time without his brother. 

the following morning, you were sitting in cafeteria. you had opening in your schedule that gave you time to finish up homework or eat a quick breakfast before your next period. 

Porco watched you type away on your computer and check your phone every so often. he watched you laugh at whatever it was you were viewing and to be honest, your smile was beyond cute. Porco also wanted to be another reason why you smiled the way you just were. 

finally, after feeling like he was coming off as extremely creepy, he walked up to you and stood in front of you. you looked up from your laptop and perked up when you saw who was. 

“oh, good morning Porco!” you exclaimed taking off your headphones, “are you looking for Marcel?” for what felt like the first time in his years of living, he was struck silent. 

you stared at him in confusion. he still hadn’t said anything to you and it took until you clapped your hands in front of his face to get him pulled back into reality. 

“oh sorry,” he murmured as you gave him a smile to dismiss his odd behavior, “you dropped this yesterday when you left. figured you’d probably want it back or something,” he said.

you couldn’t help but laugh, “oh yeah, I saw that it went missing when I got home but I thought that someone probably threw it away and took out the second spare I had,” you explained before showing him the same keychain you had attached to your bad. 

Porco wondered why you even got a spare keychain, “anyway, you could throw it out or keep it, up to you! but I don’t take you as the kind of person to watch anime so if you want, you could give it to Marcel,” you offered. 

you watched Porco once again lose his composure but this time, he regained it before you could clap in his face again. he chucked his bag over his shoulder and attached it next the pin with his football number on it. 

-

you had been seeing Porco on and off since he started taking an interest in you. he would ask you to get a smoothie or join him and Marcel for a Saturday day out. little things here and there made you realize that he was starting to like you and you could say the same. 

Porco was playing a game that literally depended on his future. this game was the make it or break it scenario. if he managed to win it, he was getting a contract from his dream school and if he didn’t, community college it was. 

Porco partially wanted to win the game for two reasons.

one: he wanted a good college on his resume and two: his dream school was also the school you were attending. you had gotten accepted earlier in the year along with the other juniors who were at the top of the graduating class and if he managed to get the contract with the school, it would be the cherry on top of it all.

you were talking with Pieck about a few things concerning the student council when Porco approached the both of you. he was wearing his football jersey as it was mandatory that all players wore them day of. 

“can I steal her for a second?” Porco asked Pieck as she nodded as tapped her best friends shoulder. she had known what he was going to do and whispered a good luck before finding another one of her friends to walk to class with. 

Porco took you to a small secluded corner of the hallway and fished into his book bag before taking out the away jersey. you stared at the blond in confusion. 

“wear this for the rest of the day,” Porco asked quietly, “Pieck said you were going to the game and I wanted you to wear it,” you saw the small blush spreading across his face before quietly accepting it. 

being that it was late October, you had been wearing a black long sleeve shirt and just chucked the jersey over it. the moment Porco seen it on you, he realized he never wanted you to take it off. 

“make sure you wear it to the game,” he whispered in your ear before giving you a quick kiss and running off, “I’ll see you after school!” you yelled, trying your hardest to hide the warm feeling coming across your face. 

the night came in as you, Pieck, and Marcel had front row seats to watch the game. you were a bundle of bubbling nerves as you watched Porco and the rest of the team run out of the tunnel. 

you gave Porco a small wave which caused a few taunts from Pieck and Marcel. they were surprised to see you wearing Porco’s jersey as it wasn’t really knowledge to anyone in the school that Porco was seeing you. 

if you were being honest, you hated football. it wasn’t your cup of tea and frankly, you found it boring but considering you were seeing Porco and he asked you to wear his jersey, you knew you had to put up with it. at least for the time being.

the game continued as the score was neck and neck. you were biting down on your fingernails from nervousness as you looked up to the digital board. there was only a few minutes left in the game and your school at the ball. 

you had no idea what Porco or the rest of the team was planning on doing to give themselves the upper hand but before you could continue to question it, you saw Porco get the ball and try to do a hail Mary across the field. 

you instantly shot up from your seat as Marcel and Pieck did the same. you felt your voice instantly get shot from how loud you screamed when Porco managed to deflect all of the players and score. 

Marcel and Pieck hugged you as you tried to contain your tears. with a few seconds left in the game, Reiner made the final point before the whistle blew and the game was over. 

you jumped over the fence and ran to find Porco in the sea of men. he saw you looking for him and grabbed your wrist before lifting you up and putting you on his waist before kissing you. 

“I did it! I fucking did it!” he yelled as you nodded, “I know! I’m so proud of you, Porco. Pieck and Marcel are proud of you too! we knew you could do it!” you replied as he laughed to try and contain his own emotions.

“God, I’m glad you’re here to celebrate this with me.”

you nodded as you gave Porco a kiss which sealed the start of your relationship with Porco.

-

as soon as all of you got out of the car, you stared at Porco with a nervous smile. Pieck although she was lecturing the two of you the entire car ride to the court house, you could see the excitement written on her face. 

the three of you walked up the long stairs until you reached the marriage and divorce floor. you couldn’t help but wonder why they would put the marriage and divorce offices in the same level. 

the court room that they had sent the two of you to was at the end of the hallway. you could see the officiant standing in front of the wooden stand and fixing his papers. 

“can you give us a few minutes?” Porco asked Pieck as she nodded. she squeezed your shoulder before walking inside of the court room. 

you and Porco stared at each other as he grabbed your hand again, “are you sure you want to go through this? I know this is very sudden and I kind of pressure you into it but I want you to know that you can back out of this. I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with,” he reminded you. 

you got on your toes and kissed him softly, “I know I was very hesitant at first but I mean, us getting married this way is just very us, you know? the lectures that we’re about to get from our family is a given but I want to do this if you want too,” you replied as Porco nodded. 

Porco gave you another give before taking your hand and walking inside of the room. Pieck gave you an excited smile as the officiant made you and Porco stand across from each other while Pieck stood on the side. 

after the officiant read off the boring legal stuff, Porco reached into his worn out brown leather jacket and took out the bands. Pieck the moment she saw them felt as though she could choke Porco out for having that be your wedding ring. she knew it wasn’t the time or place to point it out but she was going to smack Porco for it later. 

“now, repeat after me, Porco Galliard. do you take ( your name ) to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death does you apart?” 

“I do.” 

“and ( your name ), do you take Porco Galliard as your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death does you apart?” 

“I do.”

the officiant made you exchange rings before looking back at the two of you and smiled, “Porco and ( your name ), I now pronounce you Mr and Mrs.Galliard,” he said as you smiled. 

Porco immediately kissed you. he held you with such tightness that it made it seem as though you were going to disappear. once you pulled apart, you saw Pieck signing her name on the witness line on the wedding certificate before she enveloped the both of you into a hug. 

“I love you,” Porco whispered in your ear, “I love you too, you big fucking clown,” you joked before giving him a quick kiss. 

“so, who do we tell first? your brother and then your parents or my parents and then your brother?” you asked making Porco sigh in a sudden wave of nervousness, “how about we leave that until tomorrow. tonight, I want to make sure I show you how much I love you,” Porco replied. 

you couldn’t help but laugh, “we just got married, Porco! I don’t know how else you show me?” you questioned.

“oh, don’t worry about that doll. just now the night isn’t even remotely over.” 

ALITA

[cheryyori]

Red Thread - P. SH AU

pairing(s): seonghwa/oc

genre: social media au, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers au, college au, fantasty elements, past life/ reincarnation au, fated lovers au, playboy!seonghwa, hwa is a bit of a dick at first, sumi is still a nervous baby like in the sk8terboy au, lots of pinning on hwa’s end later on bc i’m soft

summary: Park Seonghwa—business major, son of the CEO to Park Corp. and an overall cold-hearted playboy dickhead—has to help his father’s company by finding a new graphic designer, after firing the last one, for the company’s upcoming project he’s tasked to work on in order prepare him for the future (and maybe highkey work on his people skills). So when Yeosang mentions a particular graphic design student in mind, he wasn’t expecting his world to turn upside down by a red thread.

word count: 3.1K

MASTERLIST | MOODBOARD & PLAYLIST

06. it’s just stress << | >>

To say that there was a tense and awkward air lingering around in the cafe was an understatement. Some could feel the air become suffocating as two individuals sat in the corner of the cafe. Sumire was shaking in her seat, making sure to busy herself with her phone as she eyes staring at her. 

Why, why, why, why?! She screamed internally as she wanted to repeatedly bang her head against the table. Why him?! She cried. Meanwhile, Seonghwa sat directly across from her, eyes staring at her in deep thought.

He was...confused, least to say. No once did he thought the cute girl that bumped into him yesterday would be the very same girl to help him with his dilemma. His eyes watched as she remained quiet, using her phone to distract herself and avoided any direct contact with him, her form closed off as she tried to make herself smaller by keeping to herself. 

Somehow it tugged at his chest to see her like this, a frown on his face at the thought that he was the one that made her felt like this. Then again, as he had been told many times before, he was him.

Although it made him even more confused as he had these thoughts, why did he felt like this towards someone he just met only now, he asked himself. A sigh escaped from his lips as he decided to push those thoughts away.

“We should get started,” he suddenly spoke up, clearing his throat as he ignored the nervous flutters in his stomach.

“R-right!” She squeaked, her back sitting up straight, “Um...” she paused, a small frown on her lips. He glanced back up, seeing her twiddle with her finger nervously.

“Yes...?” 

“Uh,” she paused once more sway side to side in her seat. Cute, he thinks again as a rosy hue was seen on her cheeks almost prompting him to reach out and pinch them before he realize the thought that crossed his mind and stomped them out.

“What?” He sighed out, although he winced as he saw her lips quivering.

“S-sorry, it’s just...I don’t know your name...” she muttered. Seonghwa sat up straight, wide eyes staring at her. Did she really not know who he was?

“...did Yeosang not tell you who I am?” He asked. For a second, he thought she was acting like this because of his many reputations around the campus.

“He only told me that you’re an acquaintance of his and that even though you can come off as...” she paused, trying to find the right words without repeating the exact words Yeosang used to describe him, “...that you can come off as aloof and intimidating, that there’s more to you than that...I’m just saying what he told me but nicer,” she confessed.

“...I see,” he mutters, “So he never once told you my name?” She shook her head in response, he carefully noticed that her nervous state was slowly diminishing as they continued to talk, her shoulders were still stiff but at least she wasn’t mumbling and stuttering like before.

“No, just...a lot of bad comments...” she shrugged. Seonghwa frowned, of course Yeosang would talk badly about him behind his back though he was amused by her honesty at least.

“Of course he would,” he clicked his tongue, “Well since he didn’t tell you...” he trails off, “It’s Seonghwa,” he said. 

“Oh,” she uttered, “Seonghwa,” she repeated slowly, her voice was soft as the fluttering feeling in his stomach erupted in his chest, “That’s a nice name,” she said, a small smile on her lips. He felt breathless as she smiled, even if it was small. He opens his mouth to speak when he hears a faint voice near his ear.

“I like it a lot. It fits you very much.”

He snaps his head, glancing around for a second. Sumire tilts her head, as she watched him glanced around suddenly, “Are you alright?” She asked. Seonghwa glanced back at her, seeing her staring back at him with confused eyes.

“No, it’s just...did you say something just now?” He asked. She scrunched her brows together, only becoming more confused.

"No, why?" She asked. He paused, furrowing his brows together before shaking his head.

"I thought I...” he paused, shaking his head, “No, never mind that," he sighed, "We should start working on the design now," he says. Sumire was still confused, but nodded her head as he pulled out some designs. Her eyes sparkled with interest as he laid them across the table.

“Oh, these are...?” She stared at them, grasping out for the one in his hand, their fingers brushed against one another. A sharp intake escaped from his lips as he felt a shock, causing him to suddenly jerk his hand away from her. She stared at him with wide eyes, her hands retracted as they were placed firmly in her lap, “O-oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t reached out like that so suddenly,” she said.

“No, it wasn’t that,” he said, “it’s just...you didn’t feel that shock just now?” He asked, his eyes carefully watching as she tilted her head at him.

“Shock? What shock?” She asked, sound more confused than before. Seonghwa frowned, wonder if it was all in his head. Perhaps the sudden stress of this whole situation was slowly staring to get him, though something in the back of his head told him otherwise.

“Forget it,” he says, “Anyways, these were some designs my...last partner made before leaving,” he says delicately. When he hands her the design, he noticed the corners of her lips twitch and brows furrowed together. After a minutes, she placed them down and stared back at him.

“Um,” she shifted nervously. He knew she wanted to say something, but held back her tongue as if she was afraid to set him off. He sighed, leaning his chin under one hand.

“Something you want to say?” He asked, raising one brow at her. She fidgeted nervously in response.

“Can I be blunt?” She asked in a small voice.

“By all means,” he replied, curious on what her answer would be.

“Well...no offense to your last partner...but these are pretty ugly...” she states. He felt his lips twitch into a small smile at her sudden declaration, “I-er-well,” she stuttered feeling her cheeks redden, “The colors don’t correlate well with one another either,” she added.

He hums, watching as she continued to nitpick at the design before speaking up, “I guess it is pretty ugly,” He agreed, making her cheeks even more flushed, “At least I wasn’t the only one that thought it was too,” he said giving her a small smile.

Sumire felt her heart heavy and cheeks burning as she pressed her hands against them, “Y-yeah,” she said letting out a small laugh. He fought the urge to smile as she glanced away nervously. He thought it was cute how nervous she seemed, how she fumbled with her fingers and bit on her bottom lips.

“I suppose we should get started on this right?” He said as he started to explain the original idea for the designs to her. She nodded her head the whole time, taking out a small sketchbook as she started making small thumbnail sketches that fit the description given to her. 

Once she was done, she would show him the sketches in hopes they fitted the original goal the company had in mind. And Seonghwa had to admit, they were much better than the original designer he worked with before that he had a bit of a struggle deciding which one was better before giving his input and opinions.

He watched as she concentrated on more sketches to improve on, her brows furrowed together as she tapped her fingers against the table to pause and think of more ideas. It was nice, relishing in the peaceful silence between the two, Sumire had been too focused that she didn’t noticed how he had been staring at her from behind his laptop.

A strand of hair fell out of place as she stared down at her sketches, without realizing his hand was already outstretched to place to lose strand back in its place when the door to the entrance slammed open.

“SUMIRE! I’M HERE! DON’T CRY ANYMORE!” A voice yelled, making the two jump in their seats. Sumire turned her head to see Rentaro by the front entrance, a bag in hand as a small furry tail poked out of it.

I’m going to kill him! She thought as she pressed her hands to her face. Seonghwa glanced over at the boy that came in and then toward her, noticing her expression. She sighs as Rentaro made his way over and pulled a chair next to her before plopping down in his seat.

“Uh...” He paused, glancing between her and Seonghwa, “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.” Both Sumire and Seonghwa said at once.

“O-okay?” Rentaro paused as he shifted nervously in his seat, before leaning close to Sumire, “I brought Iroha by the way,” he said as he opened his bag to reveal the small kitten.

She merely sighed before noticing Seonghwa staring at them, more so Ren in particular. A frown was seen on his face as Ren shifted nervously under Seonghwa’s gaze.

“Someone you know?” He asked, raising a brow at her.

“Yes, unfortunately,” she replied, she grabbed Ren by the ear and pulled him close, “What are you doing here?!” She hissed.

“I was bringing Iroha, remember? You know! Cuddles, because I thought you were going to have a nervous breakdown and cry?!” He answered, pulling away as he rubbed his ears.

“Well you can go now, don’t you have to come back later tonight for your performance?” She said. He merely shrugged, brushing her off.

“It’s fine, as a musician, I already have everything prepared, I’ll just have Yusung bring everything here then,” he added. Seonghwa’s ears perked up at their conversation.

“A musician?” He hummed, “That doesn’t mean much,” he says. Sumire sucked the air between her teeth, watching as Ren stiffened and frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  He asked, an annoyed look on his face as he stared at Seonghwa.

“Nothing, don’t mind me,” he said with a shrug as he went back to staring at some random documents, “Though, I’m curious on what your relationship is to one another,” he said eyes moving from Sumire then to Ren. 

He thought it was childish of him to engage in bitter feelings he felt towards this boy, especially over feelings he didn’t understand why he felt like this all of a sudden.

“Oh, Rentaro is my roommate-”

“Uh, I’m her boyfriend!” He blurted out suddenly. Sumire almost choked on air and stared at him with wide eyes. Seonghwa felt his fingers twitch suddenly in response, fingers crumpling the edges of the documents in hand.

“My what?!” She hissed, slapping his thigh in response as he winced. Ren kept his lips shut, not wanting to tell her that he wanted to tease her, but also he wanted to see how Seonghwa would react.

“You’re her boy...friend?” Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at him, a slight prick in his chest made him feel uncomfortable as the boy moved closer to her, one arm wrapped around her tiny frame. Irritation was the first thing he felt.

“No!” “Yes!” The two glanced at one another, eyes wide at one another’s answers.

“Yes?” Sumire asked, narrowing her eyes at Ren.

“No?” He echoed back, giving her a wide eye expression, one filled with mock hurt. She brushed him off knowing that he was messing around and glanced back at Seonghwa, who had been watching the two carefully.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Sumire insisted with a flustered face.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Ren started again, earning a harsh elbow to the side as Sumire turned towards him, giving the boy a nasty glare. He immediately shrunk back, “Kidding,” he said with a nervous smile, “I’m her roommate actually.”

Somehow, hearing that didn’t make Seonghwa feel better (though he wonders why he felt relieved when the boy admitted he wasn’t her boyfriend). The only thing he could do was sit back in his seat and let out a hum. A soft mew could be heard from Rentaro’s bag, gaining Sumire’s attention before Iroha poke her tiny head out.

“Oh, Iro,” Sumire crooned as she picked up the tiny kitten. She was thankful that Aurora was pet friendly and allowed pets inside as long as they behaved. Seonghwa watched as she coddled the kitten in her arms, a small pout on her lips as she kissed the top of the kitten’s head.

Cute, he thinks. Ren didn’t miss the way Seonghwa’s eyes softened as Sumire coddled with Iroha and had a thought.

Oh, Ren thinks before turning back to Seonghwa. 

“So,” Ren started, “Are you two friends?” He asked, eyeing between the two curiously. Seonghwa snapped out of his stupor and cleared his throat as he looked back at his papers.

“No,” Seonghwa sat up straight, eyes back on his papers in an attempt to focus his attention off of the girl before him.

“Oh,” Ren’s eyes widened slightly, “Is this a date?” He asked in a low voice, “If it is, I’m so sorry-”

“No!” Seonghwa snapped, his cheeks suddenly flushed at his suggestion, “We’re just working on a project together,” he said, straightening himself. His eyes went over to Sumire, watching as she was too busy playing with the kitten.

“Huh,” Ren paused as he saw how the other had a stiff posture, his eyes going back to the papers in hand, attempting to make them less crumpled as they were before.

Seonghwa felt slightly uncomfortable as he felt Ren was staring at him before clearing his throat, “Maybe we should end it here for today.”

Sumire glanced up, “Oh? Are you sure?” She asked, tilting her head slightly. He felt a slightly jolt in his chest and cheeks suddenly burning as she stared at him with wide eyes. He cleared his throat once again.

“Yes,” he said, “I have other things to do later on, plus we have been here for some time,” he notes at the time. Sumire pulled her phone, noticing the many messages from the group chat and that a few hours had passed. She wonders how did that happen.

“Oh,” she says, “I-I guess I didn’t notice,” she mutters before gathering her things, moving anything important out of Iroha’s grasp as the kitten stood on her lap and attempted to climb on the table. A soft mew was heard as Iroha moved towards Seonghwa.

His eyes glanced down at the kitten, seeing how they were staring up at him. He suddenly felt nervous as the kitten stared up at him with wide eyes, as if begging him to pet her. Hesitantly, he reached out and petted the small feline.

The soft purring Iroha let out made him relax as he smiled. As soon as Sumire was done gathering her things, she noticed Seonghwa petting Iroha, “Oh, she likes you,” she smiled as she petted Iroha’s back, not noticing how his finger stifled as they brushed against his.

“She’s...cute...” he said slowly, his eyes glancing back at her as he said that. She smiled before cooing at Iroha.

“She is, isn’t she,” she agreed, a sparkle was seen in her eyes as she continued to coo at the small kitten. Seonghwa smiled once again, his eyes lingering on Sumire before she picked up the kitten.

“Um,” he started, clearing his throat once again, “I’ll text you on when we can work on the project again,” he said. Sumire nodded and settled Iroha in her arms.

“Oh, alright then,” she said, for once she felt fully relaxed since upon entering the cafe. Maybe it was because Iroha was here in her arms, or maybe it might be that Seonghwa wasn’t as bad as she initially thought.

“I guess we’ll be taking our leave now,” Ren suddenly spoke up, reminding the two that they weren’t alone. Seonghwa frowned as Ren took her hand in his before leading her towards the entrance.

She glanced over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips as she waved back at him. Seonghwa felt his heart stutter as he hesitantly waved back, ignoring how there was a prang in his heart again as she left through the door.

As soon as she was gone, he sat back in his seat as his hands ran through his hair, “What the fuck just happened?” He asked himself as he felt his hands clammy and his cheeks hot. As he was deep in his thoughts, he heard a chair pull up.

“So?” Seonghwa glanced up to see Hongjoong staring at him with a grin.

“What?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the cafe owner. Hongjoong only shrugged, that stupid grin still on his lips.

“Nothing, just wondering if you enjoyed it,” he said with a wink. Seonghwa only grunted in response, slowly feeling annoyed by the other.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he glanced over at his laptop.

“Oh, really?” Hongjoong said, “So you’re telling me you didn’t try to reach out and fix her hair before her friend came?” 

Seonghwa slammed his fist against the table, his cheeks now red as he stared at Hongjoong, “Y-you saw that?!” He stuttered, making Hongjoong chuckle.

“You’re not as slick as you think you were,” he said, “I think you’re losing your touch against her,” he continued, “Hell even Jongho saw how hopeless you were being!”

Upon mentioning the youngest, the two turned towards Jongho who immediately looked away from his post behind the register, whistling as he did. Seonghwa huffed, running his hand through his hair again.

“Look, nothing happened, we were just working on the project and then her friend decided to show up,” he answered. There was no way he’ll tell Hongjoong the odd palpitation of his heart he felt whenever he saw her shift nervously in her seat. 

“Uh huh, sure,” Hongjoong grinned, “Whatever you say lover boy!”

“Shut up!” He grumbled, his eyes glancing to the side as he noticed a red thread in the corner, one end slowly floating down toward the ground next to him. His eyes followed as the thread extended out and saw it lead towards the entrance and outwards.

What the...?

“Seonghwa?” His eyes snapped back to Hongjoong, who seemed to have been trying to grab his attention just now. Seonghwa glanced back to where he saw the thread, only to find it gone. “Hey, are you alright?” Hongjoong asked, noticing how spaced out he was acting.

“Uh...” Seonghwa paused, before shaking his head. It’s just stress, he tells himself once more. “Nothing, just...nothing.”

“You sure, you seemed off just now,” Hongjoong said, giving the older a slightly concerned look. 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure what to say, his mind was already filled many thoughts of his own. “I’m fine, Hongjoong, thank you for your concern,” he told him.

It was all stress, he told himself, that had to be it. 

[svtxsoju]

02. morning glory fizz | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is! ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Joshua x baking major!OC, and more TBA!  ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, suggestions of sex, language  ღ Word Count: 4.9k words  ღ Binu’s Note: a week late but better late than never i guess 😌 i’ve been avoiding tumblr to finish writing this, but i just kept getting distracted by choi seungcheol. hit that mf like button if you relate. i’m so excited for the special album y’all the teasers and concepts are so sadkfklsj i love seventeen

anyway, i apologize not only for the late update, BUT ALSO bc this chapter is also a lot of exposition again 😔🥺 i promise i’m done setting it all up and that some real shit will go down in the next chapter!! hopefully people will still be able to enjoy this chapter huhuhu 😭💗 if you’re reading this, i love u and i hope u have a good weekend!! 

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Disclaimer ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ 》

《 Previous ⊛ Next 》

Having already completed the first half of her college career, Joohyun was well aware of the value of sleep. And yet, like most college students, she could never  seem to manage a decent sleeping schedule. She had only slept 2 hours when her alarm went off at 5:30AM. She groggily rolled out of bed, mentally cursing her past self for thinking that this was a good idea when clearly, the best idea at the moment was to snuggle back up under her covers and sleep in until afternoon. Only one of her eyes seemed capable of staying open as she pulled on her clothes and got ready for the day. When she suddenly heard the front door close behind her roommate, she cursed out loud, throwing her laptop into her bag before she rushed out the door. She half-wobbled, half-hopped along the second-story walkway while she tried to get her shoes all the way on.

“Bok Bongseon! Wait for me!” Joohyun called out in an aggressive whisper.

“HOLY SHIT! You scared me, Joo!” her roommate, a shorter girl with full cheeks and pouty lips, screamed at full volume. She clutched at her racing heart and leaned against the wall while she caught her breath. 

“Shut up, people are still sleeping!” Joohyun linked arms with Bongseon and dragged her down the steps leading to the street. It was still dark outside, but she could already hear the faint bustling of the mart located below their apartment. It was nice to know that they weren’t the only two people in Seoul insane enough to be awake at this hour. 

“I thought you were the ghost of my grandma, you bitch! You know she visits me in my dreams to tell me how disappointed she that I’m a baker,” Bongseon said indignantly, though she still cuddled closer to Joohyun when they were hit by the morning chill. Once they reached the street, they both headed towards the train station without having to say a word.  “What are you even doing up?” 

“I am simply accompanying my favorite roommate to work to make sure that she gets there safely,” Joohyun crooned sweetly, and made kissy faces at the girl, who in turn pinched Joohyun’s lips between her calloused fingers. She tried to protest but could only let out pained whines until she was mercifully released. “Ow!” 

“Sorry but I cannot fulfill your roommates to lovers, 12k slowburn fantasy,” Bongseon continued on nonchalantly as they climbed down the steps to the platform. “You had your chance, but I am a taken girl!”

“Oh, so you and Josh are together today?” Joohyun teased. Although it probably wasn’t the best idea, considering her lips were slightly throbbing from the girl’s attack. “I’ll just wait until tomorrow then.” 

“Wow, bold words coming from Miss Fish Lips.” Bongseon raised an eyebrow and smiled tauntingly. “Understandable, considering  that that was probably the most action your lips have gotten in your entire life. I could probably set it up on a blind date with my fist, if you’d like.” 

Joohyun’s laughter echoed off the walls of the mostly empty station, startling the only other person waiting for the morning train (an old woman, who was still half-asleep prior to being rudely awakened by two very loud girls). Bongseon often made some colorful threats, morning or not, but Joohyun was one of the very few people who could be assured that her words were empty. “Don’t you know that it’s rude to stare, lady?” she barked at the old woman, who was openly glaring at them. Everyone else, on the other hand, was subject to Bongseon’s sharp temper.

This even included her boyfriend of approximately 4 years. ‘Approximately’ being the key word, because the two often took breaks--  a natural phenomenon when one partner was easily provoked and the other loved to do the provoking. Jihoon had told Joohyun that the two had met at the cafe in their freshman year, when Bongseon came in as a part-time baker and Joshua was merely a barista trainee. They started dating within a month and moved into an apartment together in two. That went just as well as anyone would expect. By the grace of whatever entity that was chaotic enough to keep their relationship intact, they made it 7 months before nearly breaking things off for good. As luck would have it though, a new hire and his roommate were in the same exact predicament as them. Kind of. 

Joohyun shuddered to recall her freshman year when she and Jihoon somehow convinced themselves that it was a good idea to share an apartment. In principle it made sense; they had lived across the street from each other since they were in diapers. Two exhausting months into trying to irritate the other into breaking the lease first, they met Bongseon and Joshua when Jihoon started working at Smile Flower. It didn’t take long for Joohyun to suggest the switch— she would move in with Bongseon and Joshua with Woozi. Just like that, she saved both Bongseon and Joshua’s turbulent romance (temporarily) and her and Woozi’s fractured friendship (now thriving). 

She and Bongseon have been roommates ever since, and Joohyun knew her life was a little easier for it. 

“Joohyun, you better stop looking at me with those heart eyes before I really act up,” Bongseon warned. They had boarded the train, but hadn’t bothered to sit down since Mansae University station was only two stops away. 

“But I just love you so much,” Joohyun pouted, affectionately resting her head on her friend’s shoulder. “What does Joshua have that I don’t?” 

“A dick. And that’s about it.” 

“Damn you, heterosexuality!” 

Bongseon snorted out a laugh. “Seriously Joo, how are you awake right now? You’re only ever this lovey-dovey when you’re severely sleep deprived. I know you don’t have classes until 3PM today. You also don’t have your internship today,” Bongseon narrowed her eyes when Joohyun visibly tensed up at the mention of her current occupation. “Also, since when do you watch Youtube videos until 2am? And don’t think I didn’t notice that all of them were titled ‘Relationship Q&A’s’ and ‘I confessed to my crush and he said this!!!’. Got something to tell me, missy?” 

It was so quiet on the train that Joohyun worried that Bongseon could hear all the wires in her brain short-circuit. With Bongseon’s cross-examination skills, it was a wonder why she pursued baking instead of joining her family’s firm. Come on, Joohyun, just tell a white lie. Easy, simple. Don’t need to overcomplicate things. “Oh, uh I— um— well, I j-just thought they were entertaining?” She was done for. 

“Right. You thought random couples self-indulgently talking about their love lifes for 40 minutes with default iMovies effects were entertaining.”  

“Y-yes?” Joohyun threw in her most convincing smile for good measure, but it did nothing to soften Bongseon’s hard gaze. “It’s my new guilty pleasure, haha!”  

“Hm, interesting,” Bongseon was momentarily interrupted by the sound of the arrival bell. Joohyun eagerly pulled her friend towards the exit, hoping that the distance from the train could also get her further away from the topic. Unfortunately for her, Bongseon did not plan on dropping it so soon. “You sure you don’t want to tell me anything, Joo? About your internship?” 

Joohyun began to sweat. Was she really that transparent? “Okay, don’t get mad--”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m super jazzed that you’re getting into relationships and everything, but really Joo? Youtube? You could just talk to me if you need help talking to your new crush at your job!” 

“Oh.” Joohyun would have let out a sigh of relief if she wasn’t out of breath from climbing the mountain of stairs up to the sidewalk. “Right. Confessing. To my crush. That I definitely have.”

“It’s okay to admit you have one, Joo. I’m no  stranger to workplace romance,” Bongseon said, her breathing completely even. A measly flight of stairs was nothing compared to eight hours of kneading dough. “Who’s the lucky bastard, Joo?” 

“Well, I’m not sure I would call it a workplace romance, per se…” Joohyun laughed nervously. There was no way she could stick another clean landing if she kept talking. 

“Shut up, I bet that guy is in love with you already. Who wouldn’t fall for the only editing intern at The Front?” 

“Haha, I don’t know…” Probably no one, because the only editing intern at The Front doesn’t exist? 

Joohyun could not be more relieved to see the small store front of Smile Flower Cafe. It was one amongst the many cafes located near campus, but Joohyun felt like nothing really matched its comforting home-like ambience. But that probably had less to do with the soft wooden floors and pastel ceramic mugs, and more owed to the three years Joohyun had spent hanging around there, usually bothering Jihoon and joking around with Josh. 

The two boys already stood waiting at the cafe’s entrance, too bleary-eyed to notice Joohyun and Bongseon quickly approaching. “Hey, ugly!” Joohyun called out, snickering when both of them turned to look at her. 

“What the hell, why are you awake?” 

“Good morning to you too, Jihoon,” she answered, blowing him a kiss. “I’m actually here to see you, believe it or not. Don’t you feel special?”

“Oh? That’s interesting, because you told me that you came here for me,” Bongseon broke away from exchanging actual kisses with Joshua to look between Joohyun and Jihoon in a way that Joohyun did not like too much.  “I guess it wasn’t a workplace romance after all.” 

Joshua mirrored his girlfriend’s implicating expression as he unlocked the front door, simply because he knew it made his friends squirm. “Wow Joohyun, you woke up this early just to talk to Jihoon? You really couldn’t wait to see him, huh?” 

“Uh, yes because I need his help—”

“Ah, his help, gotcha! Come on, Bongseon, I’ll go help you in the kitchen while these two help each other out here,” Joshua snickered. Before Joohyun or Jihoon could roast the couple in retaliation, they had already disappeared behind the counter. 

After years of similar taunts, all Jihoon could do was shake his head. “Okay Joo, what is so important that you need my help at 6 in the morning?”

“I wrote my first response last night!” Joohyun whispered excitedly, taking out her laptop from her bag. “Well, a few hours ago. I wanted to show you before continuing on with the rest! Here, look.” 

① Dear Miss Soju, 

I just started my first year at MU and she’s an exchange student from New York. We met at a party and talked for two hours about comics, aliens, anything we could think of. It was perfect. She even asked me to walk her home. When the time came for me to make a move though, I kind of dropped the ball. Since we had just met that night, I didn’t want to come off too strong. Now I really regret it - I don’t even have her phone number. I feel like such an idiot! I can’t stop thinking about her, but I don’t even know if I’ll ever talk to her again. Did I make myself seem disinterested? Will we meet again? Will she even remember me?

Sincerely,

Big Cringy Idiot

She let Jihoon read the asker’s message first, then scrolled down to show her answer.

Dear Big Cringy Idiot,

You and your crush seem to have a lot in common. There is nothing wrong with being nervous around someone you like. In fact, it is fairly normal and is a good sign that you like this girl very much. She also seems open to any future possiblities, since she did ask you to take her home. You need not worry about coming off too strong in this situation, although I do admire your dedication to respecting women’s boundaries. I hope you are able to find this girl again so that you can truly tell her how you feel. Best of luck to you!

Sincerely,

Miss Soju

“Joo, that was…” 

“Poetic, beautiful, life-changing?” Joohyun grinned, and nudged her best friend with each suggestion.

“Boring. It was boring.” Joohyun’s face fell, and Jihoon could only offer the girl an apologetic smile. “Dude, you’re gonna put people to sleep if you keep it up like this. I almost took out a pillow to take a nap on the floor.”

“But this is how I write my articles— Informative and concise! How else am I supposed to write it?”

“I mean, that’s great for reporting articles, but this is an advice column. It’s supposed to be fun, sarcastic maybe. Like your promo piece! That was good.” 

“I wrote that as a joke, hoping they would fire me for it,” Joohyun admitted, eyes wide in panic as she looked at her best friend. 

“Huh. Well, I think it would sound better than this Wikipedia article you got going on,” Jihoon shrugged. “Try to be fun!”

“I am fun!” Joohyun cried out defensively, her nostrils flaring with passion. When Jihoon responded with a doubtful look, she let out a dramatic gasp and snatched up her laptop, stomping over to her favorite corner in the cafe. “I can be fun! I’ll show you fun!” 

 “Atta girl,” Jihoon’s signature cackle filled the cafe, further fueling the girl’s aggressive typing. 

Just another morning in the life of So Joohyun.

To the surprise of the cafe’s current occupants, a student already tapped at the glass entrance, clearly in desperate need of his morning americano. He had walked all the way from the freshman dorms after a restless night of tossing and turning. When his phone screen told him it was already 6:05AM, he decided to just give up on sleep altogether. So there he was, trying to start off his day right, at Smile Flower Cafe, only to be stopped at the door by the grumpy barista with the red hair. He always felt like the other one was way nicer, especially since he would go out of his way to sneak him free cookie samples and made pleasant small talk while ringing him up (what was his name? Jonathan?). 

  All the red-haired barista ever did was scowl at him when he asked for a student discount. Now, he scowled at him as he gestured at the sign that indicated that the cafe would not be open until 7AM. The fatigued freshman had half a mind to make some choice gestures of his own, but he refrained and just whipped out his phone instead. He gave the mean barista one last pout before turning around and walking towards the 24-hour convenience store on campus.

➠ [ to: vernonie 😌😎  ] Good morning king. Are you still on your shift ?

➠ [ from: vernonie 😌😎  ] gm seungkwan pls k*ll me 

Seungkwan took that as a yes. It didn’t take long for him to arrive, the entrance bell ringing lightly when he stepped into the small store. At the register sat his roommate, who was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. “Wol-cuh ‘n—” he tried to greet through a wide-mouthed yawn. “Excuse me, welcome in! Oh, hey Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan answered with a grunt and headed straight for the refrigerated coffee section, choosing the largest can.

“Uh dude, you good? You look like—”

“Like I haven’t slept all night? I am aware,” He immediately opened his coffee and took a long gulp of the beverage in hopes of feeling even a little better. When it did nothing after 30 seconds, he frowned at the concerned cashier. “Vernon, I will not be paying for this drink, because it is clearly defective. Coffee is supposed to fix everything.” 

“Is this about your audition today?” Vernon asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Your monologue sounded really solid last night though. Your audition songs were great too. You totally got this in the bag!” 

“It’s not just about the audition, sweet Vernon,” Seungkwan sighed. “It’s about who I’m going to see at the audition. I still don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“Oh yeah, you are probably going to see them later.” For the past week, all Seungkwan could talk about was the theater tech sophomore that he had met at the theater department’s welcome party. They had sat beside Seungkwan and had helped him through all the fast-paced drinking games, and even took some of his shots when he kept losing. Surely, this was what love felt like.

That was what Seungkwan hoped anyway, because whatever it was made him feel all warm and tingly inside (or it could have just been the alcohol). Nevertheless, he had made big plans to confess to his crush as soon as possible. His dilemma for the past several days was merely a matter of how it would be done. “Not probably! I know for a fact that they will be there, because they told me that they couldn’t wait to see me,” Seungkwan let out a wail and slumped over the counter. “They’re the sweetest, most beautiful person to ever walk the earth and I just want to tell them that I would actually jump off a bridge for them. Why is that so difficult?” 

Vernon nodded sympathetically as he always did. “I mean, if you’re not ready today, maybe you could wait?”

“Wait?! No offense babe, but last time I checked, waiting didn’t get you anywhere,” Seungkwan said,  patting his roommate’s arm. Vernon cringed as he was forced to remember his own romantic blunder from the past week. “Clearly, we are both in major need of help. That Woozi guy’s show didn’t do anything for us! Also, we still haven’t heard from that Miss Soju character and it’s been what? Two days? If she’s such an expert, she would know that love is time sensitive!” 

“Ugh, I know. I keep refreshing The Front’s website just to see if she’s posted it yet.” Vernon sighed forlornly, which was a common punctuation to his sentences lately. “It’s getting me really antsy. What if she doesn’t even choose to answer our emails this time?” 

Seungkwan quickly covered the other freshman’s mouth. “Don’t say that! The universe manifests what we say will happen. We should ask for divine intervention instead.” He cleared his throat in preparation and threw his hands up to the sky. “O Eros, god of love, please shine your blessings down upon my and Vernonie’s love lives for we are but two humble, clueless freshmen in need of romantic guidance. Send down two of your swiftest, sharpest arrows, so that those that we desire may hear your soft whispers—”

Ding. The sound of the entrance bell rang once more, stopping Seungkwan’s prayer short, much to his irritation. “Is this a bad time?” the new customer, an ethereally handsome blonde, asked amusedly. He strode into the store and grabbed two spicy tuna triangle kimbab’s before approaching the counter. 

“Jeonghan hyung!” 

“Ah, Vernon!” Jeonghan smiled. “I didn’t know you worked here. You should come by my and Cheol’s apartment again soon, that was fun!”

“Hyung, this is my roommate that I told you about-- Seungkwan. And Seungkwan, this is Seungcheol hyung’s roommate,” Vernon said all while ringing up Jeonghan’s food. On the side, Seungkwan bowed sheepishly after unfreezing from his previous pose. “How’s your morning going? You wake up pretty early!” 

Jeonghan laughed heartily, shaking his head. “Oh no, I just finished an all-night stream. I just came by to get a snack before heading to bed. Seems like you two have been having a fun morning, though. Do you two always start your day off by praying to the ancient Greek god of desire?” 

Seungkwan flushed a deep pink. “Uh no, it was more like a cry of desperation. Vernon and I are having a pretty tough time confessing to our crushes, so I figured we should just try out anything that might help us. Nothing else seems to be working…” 

“Wait, that’s so cute,” Jeonghan cooed. 

“Would you be able to give us some advice, hyung?” Vernon asked. He didn’t know anything about the senior’s love life, but he did give off the vibe of someone who would know… a lot. 

Jeonghan’s eyes twinkled dangerously, a lazy smirk on his lips. “I mean, I could go talk to your little crushes for you, if you’d like. I’m sure I could get some sort of response out of them.”

One look at Jeonghan had Vernon and Seungkwan shaking their heads vehemently.

“No, we’re good.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” 

“Mm, good call.” Jeonghan took his food from the counter, and winked at the two boys. “I really wish I could help you both more, but I’m sure you’ll get what you’re waiting for soon! Today, if you want it enough.” 

There was something in the way that the senior stated those words that made Seungkwan believe him without a question. It wasn’t a naive suggestion or an optimistic prediction; Jeonghan spoke like it was the truth plainly written on the walls. He finally felt a long-awaited wave exhaustion wash over his anxieties, softening them until they fizzled away alongside the ebbing foam. All that was left behind were grains of sand. Suddenly, Seungkwan yawned,  and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his twin bed at the dorms. 

“Well, I should be heading off to bed! Looks like you should be too, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan said, suppressing his own yawn. The freshman nodded in agreement. He definitely needed to rest up— this was going to be a big day, after all. 

“Say hi to Cheol hyung for me when you get home!” Vernon said. 

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully as he made his way back to the entrance of the store. “I will if he’s there! He didn’t come home last night.” He turned to leave the boys with one last sleepy smile, seeming to laugh at something only he knew. 

“At least one of us is doing something right.” 

“Jihoon, why can’t I get this right?” 

“I’m sorry! This just sounds nothing like you,” Jihoon shrugged. It had been a rather busy morning, but things slowed down as it approached noon, giving him the chance to look at Joohyun’s fourth draft of responses.  “I’ve never heard you say stuff like ‘rad’ or ‘hella’... Like are you aware that you sound like a skater from the late 90’s?” 

“That’s because the reference I’ve been using is from 1997!” Joohyun huffed in frustration. She was already backspacing albeit with a little more force than necessary. “I wasn’t even born in ‘97!” 

“Exactly, so stop trying to write like that. What if you tried to—” 

“Eat my ass, Hong!” The sound of the kitchen door slamming open interrupted Jihoon’s (probably unhelpful) suggestion, and the two best friends watched as Bongseon stormed out of the cafe in a familiar rage. Luckily, there were no customers to witness it this time. 

Instinctively, they looked to the kitchen door, where Joshua stood with a resigned smile on his full lips. “Oops,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck apologetically. “Guess it was too soon to joke about our last break. Sorry about that, Jihoon. I’ll try to call in the head baker early to finish up the rest of the pastries for today.” 

He walked over to where they sat and plopped himself across from Joohyun. She offered Joshua a look of sympathy, but he responded by twisting his face up in a dumb expression, reassuring her that he was just fine. Still,  she couldn’t help feeling worried for both of her friends. No matter how many times Bongseon and Joshua broke it off and no matter how much Joohyun joked about it, she knew that their strong feelings for each other meant that it hurt a little every time they got into a fight. At least, that’s what she gathered from the various nights she spent soothing Bongseon while the girl cried into a toilet bowl, soju bottle still in hand. 

“It’s okay, Josh, you probably don’t have to worry too much. Knowing her, she’ll probably be back in 30 minutes to make up with you and then Jihoon will have to find someone to take over your shift,” Joohyun piped up. “But please take it back to your apartment this time, because I don’t make enough money to have every surface of my apartment sanitized again.” 

Joshua let out an easy laugh, as though he were not a man in deep shit. “Thank you, Joo. You always know what to say to make me feel better,” he sighed. “I should probably go after her. I’ll be back soon, Jihoon!” 

She waited for him to disappear out the door before turning to her best friend. “Wow, that’s gotta be a new record for them, right? I didn’t even know they got back together until this morning.” Joohyun was surprised to find that Jihoon had been silently staring at her for a good minute now. “...Why are you looking at me?” 

“What you said to Joshua,” Jihoon simply replied. 

“Oh, I was only joking about the sanitation thing. I just walked in on them once in the kitchen—“

“No I mean, how you said it. Maybe that’s how you should be writing your responses.” Jihoon grinned, watching as Joohyun gave him that look again, the one where she looks at him like he’s speaking from a third head. But he knew that this was going to be another Jihoon Genius moment, which seemed to be happening more frequently lately, much to his satisfaction. “Like you’re talking to one of your friends. I mean, it made Josh feel better, right?”

Joohyun’s eyebrows scrunched together and she mulled the idea over. Without another word to Jihoon, she began to slowly type on her laptop, gradually tapping faster and faster as she gained momentum. Her best friend giddily returned to his place behind the counter to tend to the customers that just walked in. He knew that once she got into a groove, there was no hope of stopping her. 

An hour later, Joohyun finally pushed away her laptop and waited for Jihoon to finish wiping down a table before calling him over. For some reason, she was anxious to show him the final product and even when he already sat besie her, she hesitated for a beat. Usually, her writing was professional and objective, always ending with a declarative period. She had spent years perfecting her reporting style so that when she presented the facts, that’s all they were. This, however, felt personal, like it was a part of her. And even though Jihoon probably knew her even better than herself sometimes, there was something so vulnerable about showing someone a side of her that she had only just discovered. 

And yet, she was curious to know— desperate to know: was it any good? 

“Well?” Joohyun watched for Jihoon’s reaction closely, both impatient and terrified to hear his thoughts. 

“Joohyun, this...” Jihoon started slowly. She braced for impact. “This is it. I think you’ve found Miss Soju’s voice.”

She exhaled. “R-really?”

“Yes, really. You answered the questions so thoughtfully, so you know it’s not just some generic bullshit you found on the internet. Plus, it was fun to read, like I think I’d read this even if I didn’t send a letter in,” Jihoon gushed, all while skimming over the words again. He turned to smile brightly at her, reminding Joohyun of a much younger Jihoon back in their elementary school days. “Most importantly though, it’s so you.”

Joohyun returned the smile, just as brightly. Warmth bloomed in her chest and across her cheeks. “Thanks, Jihoon, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Honestly, me neither,” Jihoon laughed.

“Um, can I ask you one more thing though?” Joohyun scrolled down to the last two entries, both of which asked for advice on how to make things official with a guy they’ve been talking to. The two letters were extremely similar in detail, but had been sent from two different emails and two different signatures. At first, she thought that maybe her judgement was muddled by her lack of sleep, and as the day went on, she figured her inability to recognize any nuance between the two letters was thanks her lack of experience. 

There was just something about the way they had described the boy. She knew that  intelligent, funny, kind-hearted, and unbelievably handsome were pretty generic adjectives. But what were the odds for both letters to also mention his infectious laugh and deep, dark eyes? “Do you think these two are from the same person? I’m trying to go for a confession theme for this article, so I included them both, but I’m afraid they’re too similar.” 

Jihoon read them over a couple of times, then shrugged. “They do sound pretty similar, but a lot of people go through that sort of thing. Also, so many people describe their crushes like that, but let’s be real, most of them end up being fuckboys. So trust me, both those people probably need your help. I mean, what’s the harm in publishing both, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Joohyun bit her lip, needing every ounce of reassurance she could get from her best friend. She read over her writing once, twice, thrice more. This was it. No more edits and no more excuses. Her finger hovered over the mousepad. “Okay, I”m going to send it in for approval now. Jihoon, you are about to witness me publish my first article for The Front.” 

Joohyun took a deep breath and clicked. Finally.

[woozi]

i agree how you described twt, sometimes everyone's just ready to fight it seems, i've genuinely had fun on both platforms at different times but now it's just too much on stan twt (no space for difference of opinion djsjdjj) it's good to know you're having fun as well :3 & omg i've seen few of my moots starting to give svt their attention after fallin flower dropped, everything abt it is <3333 the song, mv, choreo i love it.

hdjdjddkdjdj " virgos 😐 " also me in next breath "happy birthday mark :D i love you so much 🥺💕💗" any virgos reading this i really hope you enjoy your month to the fullest djjdjd <3. righttt?? you're correct abt mark's temper being very virgo djdjdkd.

your line screams hard-working people <3 jihoon, jaebeom, jeonghan the 3Js <3. isn't jaebeom also an infj? (i don't take mbtis seriously but at the same time it also makes me happy if it ends up matching someone i like djdjjd) chan & yugs 🥺 these two imo have the sweetest personality, like the one which makes you feel welcomed & they also have the cutest laugh 🥺.

i love jus2 <3 focus on me is one of my favorite kpop mvs of all time & also drunk on you??? i love this song so much, very sexy of them. the vibes, style and everything w/ their album, i want more songs like that. and for when i am feeling melancholy i need more songs like jjp's verse 2 😭💔 but i am also okay if they don't want to go back to these units bcoz everything so far they've been giving is just as great <33 ( maybe in future we'll get blessed w/ features 🥺)

honestly g7 as grp and individually have won me over with their music style, even if i don't like full album ik there will be 3-4 songs which will be exactly what i like to listen to, all of the music they've released individually i've liked it so much. there is this song of youngjae's, titled "i'm all ears" i had no idea of its existence until it popped up in my spotify i'm so glad it did, it's been in my playlist ever since. there was also a time when i was obsessed with jackson's 'on the rocks' djdjdk.

aww <3 the live performance video of 1° has mark as thumbnail so for long time i used to associate this song with him jdjddk. i think the only j*pe thing i'd miss is got7 studio live sessions 🥺. RIGHTJDKSKS aju nice's mv is very cute djjddk I love it, in reality its reverse tho, i see them and boom! 💖💛💗🤍💕💙

it was the year they won first bb*as award so that gave them the exposure, and no i don't follow them anymore. mixed feelings abt them, very negative feelings abt f*ndom fjdjdjd. i do miss what it used to feel like liking them sometimes. at that time i never thought i'll willingly drop them from my interest (i've stanned zayn since 2012 first him as grp member then solo. sometimes thinking abt it gives me a whiplash hddjks it's been 9 years, really thought it would be same with them too but it didn't happen)

i've had falling in love by yugs and in to you by jaebs on loop for days djdkdk i really love these two songs and also air by bammie <3 (i'm slow jams kinda person djdjdk :3)

(bam released the most fun album & title this year idc abt others, ribbon is one of the soty) also special mention of look so fine & running through the rain. yes! you do make sense they feel organic & very them.

exactly 😭 it's more believable when they drop stuff out of nowhere like encore 😭😭. the way youngjae posted his letter on twt too ddjjdkssk the announcement & release of encore is such a 'you just had to be there' situation the excitement, nervousness, confusion and everything 😭 sometimes i can't with them. also is the bibi with mark on ost, the same one you mentioned in last ask? the ost is really good <3, it must've been fun to see it happen (if its same bibi).

making a whole ass playlist just for me???? 😭😭😭🥺💗 yza you're so sweet nooooo 💖

and don't worry abt replying late jdjdkdjd i mean it, sometimes my friends text me after weeks and i'm am the same. it's really okay <3. i hope this week is treating you kindly, take care yza - 🪂

p.s ( just saw last post djjej) - it was me who manifested more bunny dino <3 manifesting even more <33

i was on stan twt during my younger years too and it was v fun and memorable to me ngl <3 idk what happened though.. it's evolved to be.. Something Else.. i still see a lot of good people there though 😭 and now that i'm in my Hag Era... idk it's just too fast for me now 😭 it's still my go-to place for updates though nothing can top twitter on that dept

and ms fallin flower.... i feel like everyone was blown away by it (based off of what i see carats when talk about it) and rightly so!! she SERVED. the looks too oh my god. it's another factor i look forward to and enjoy so much when i watch their performances!!

u know what? virgos 😐 indeed KJJKDFJKFDJKFDKJ i want to slander virgos today because it's their season and no one slanders them that often so <3 ABOUT MARK'S VIRGO TEMPER THOUGH... i know i've said i enjoy seeing it sm but whenever i think abt it i cant help but say that.. I Love His Temper <3 he doesn't get pissed off in a scary and douchebag-y way it seems so... contained?? IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT he punched an a/c though so that might not be the perfect word to describe him lmaoo <3

THE J TRINITY HFDJFJDJHDF BESTIE UR MIND IS SO!!!!!!!!!!! honestly... maybe it's the acts of service for me <3 JKDFKJFDKJFJKD i think this is just my eldest sister and savior syndrome speaking though kfjkdkjf ALSO OH MY GOD THE WAY U NOTICE THESE THINGS <3 THAT'S SO SEXIE OF U!!! and yes he used to be an infj!! there was an interview that's more recent wherein he mentioned that he's now an enfj though but i cant rmb which interview it's from :/ ALSO MOOD FKJJKGJGKF i dont believe in mbtis too but im just... a little obsessed w it for the fun of it all <3 and the way u described them </3 what if i tear up a little </3 I LOVE CHAN'S LAUGH SO MUCH BUT IM SO SOS O GLAD U BROUGHT UP YUGYEOM'S LAUGH??????????? IT'S NOT TALKED ABT ENOUGH LIKE...... HELLO!!!!!!!!!!! one of my bird moots said he sounded like a schoolboy in choir 😭😭😭😭😭😭

GOD UR TASTE!!!!!!! what if i start falling in l*ve a little :/ what then :/ focus on me was ahead of it's time and people fucking slept on THEM i cannot fucking believe this. this has to be some kind of sick joke 😭 ALSO HAVE U SEEN THE CHOREO FOR SENSES!!!!!!1 INCREDIBLE!!!!!!!!!! holy fuck!!!!!! sorry for the expletives but like.... holy SHIT they did THAT!!!!!!!! ALSO UR SO RIGHT </3 jjp verse 3 when... ALSO did u know i let go of the jjprojects url... thats the worst mistake of my life KDKJDSKJDSJK also agree wholeheartedly <3 i think they're all trying to find their footing this time around as soloists and im so proud of them for that!! i'll stand by my jus2 agenda though bc they're almost in the same company so maybe.. i might have hope left 😭

SO TRUE BESTIE!!! the same principle goes w svt for me as well <3 got7's such a flavorful group musically like... all of them have the capacity to go solo and they're still considered flops.. waht the fuck <3 ALSO OMG FJDKJFKFJD YOU'VE HEARD The Song!!!!!!!! maybe he'll be releasing something along those lines <3 esp now that he's supposedly coming w an album KJSJKDJSK on a similar note.. do u also listen to jamie (the other artist on the song) <3 NOO SHUT UP THIS CANNOT BE FOR REAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 i was obsessed w on the rocks too 😭😭😭😭😭😭 IT WAS MY FAVORITE ON THE MIRRORS ALBUM HELLO??????????????????????????? im proposing to u rn

ok now i have to watch all the live vids again JKDSJKSJDKDSKJ ik keep saying 'ur so right', 'i agree', and 'so true bestie' but im gonna have to say this again bc i LOVE LOVE LOVE live sessions sm no matter the artist. i also just am a little partial to live bands in performances like that in general so JDJKKDSJDS

the way you're saying these cute things abt the svteenies.. </3 giving me heartache!!! i'd bully them though i can't coddle them anymore <3

not the fandom JKFDKJFDKJFDKJFKJF ok but i think it's mostly their younger fans tbh. it wasn't this bad before.. i also really liked bts during their debut days. their songs were really good!! i kind of lost interest though and couldn't really get into them although their songs slapped lol. my irls are still into them though so i still hear about them. 9 YEARS............................... wait oh my god it HAS BEEN a little over a decade since 1d was The Thing huh 😭 now i feel kinda old lmao. and i totally get that feeling </3 it really do be like that sometimes JKFDJKJKFD

you really ARE keeping up w the sevens oh my god how are you doing it!!!!!!!!!!! it's like getting svt content now at this point but more complicated bc u need to get the updates from different sources JDKJSDKJJSKD love ur song choices too <3

ALSO FULLY RELATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! when i saw bam's teasers... the aes was my cup of tea and THE HIGHLIGHT MEDLEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i can't fucking get it out of my mind it's objectively one of the best things i've seen from kpop in 2021. i'm super impressed <3 love how abyss really supported bambam on this. they really went all in for him!!

I KNOW GKJDFJDK I GOT SUPER ???????/// DURING THE TIME EVERYONE THOUGHT THEY WERE DISBANDING LMAOOOO they pulled a move that's so unheard of though no one really expected That. i respect jaebeom so much for handling all the paperwork and shit behind the scenes it must've been HELL!! ALSO IT MEANT I CRIED FOR NOTHING THEN 😭😭😭 AND YES OH MY GOD IT'S THE SAME BIBI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE SHOCK I HAD WHEN I SAW THE LIST????????????????????????? thought i was gonna black out like,,, mark,,, AND BIBI??????????????? she's fucking phenomenal how is she just a YEAR older than me.. INSANE!!! ... and i also thought jackson was gonna have an ost for this movie.. idk why it wasn't released though i didnt look into it :/

i had a rough few days so i'm not yet finished with the playlist (my laptop's Dead i am still trying to revive her and uni's starting soon 😭) but for the mean time, here's another one that some people from caratblr previously asked for JDSJKSDJ these are mostly english songs though its not my k-playlist KJDSKJSDJK

i do hope this week gets better!!! and i hope that you'll have a fun one too <3 thank u for being so patient w me 🥺 i just get so many messages and find the need to recharge FDKJDFJK

ALSO I FELT LIKE IT WAS U!!!!!! OH MY GOD, i even searched my blog for the word manifest but for some reason your ask didn't come up in the search so i didnt mention u in the tags so i wont misattribute if it ends up not being u 😭 thank u for manifesting this chan for me he's my little... hop hop now ig... 😭

[yikesharringrove]

what do you think about a crossdressing Steve? Maybe he started just liking the soft fabrics of his mom's clothes but then he started wearing them as a way to attempt to hold on to the feigned affection she gave him. Eventually he just got his own stuff because they helped him feel calmer, softer. He would only ever put them on when he believed he would be alone for a while to cook or do chores... And then one day Billy comes over. Do with it what you will.

So, maybe you wanted smut, but non-binary femme presenting Steve is a ridiculously big headcanon I have that I have talked about with several folks and will be included in the next big fic I roll out, so this is some Soft Shit bc I wanted an excuse to write Steve as non-binary femme presenting.

For some drag queen Steve, I got a little thing here.

This exact kinda character study of sorts has actually been in my drafts for like, a month, so I’ve incorporated some of it into this. It's modern, and there is some language that may be harmful, so PLEASE be careful with yourselves, no slurs or anything along those lines, just ignorant stuff. Also, this really went off the rails at the end, I’m Sorry.

Thank you for sending an ask!

Read on ao3!

When Steve was a little kid, he always preferred playing with the girls.

They would have clothes for dress-up, princess dresses, and pirate costumes, anything any child could want. They had wigs, makeup, crowns. Little girls also had babydolls, little pretend kitchens he would play in, plastic baby bouncing at his hip.

When his nanny would come to pick him up from Carol’s house, she would have wipes in the car, to clean off his face. Your father will be very disappointed if he sees you playing with girls’ things again, Steven. He learned very quickly that playing dress-up, wanting to be Mommy when playing house, those are not things little boys did.

He remembers fighting with his parents, when they found the little plastic case of goopy lipglosses Carol had let him keep. He was seven years old and was crying, had screamed as loud as he could that if little boys weren’t allowed to play with makeup, then maybe I don’t want to be a boy.

When his parents started leaving him more often, their absences growing longer the older he got, he began going into his mother’s things, trying on her clothes. He was twelve when he first learned that women’s clothes were made of finer materials, were softer, felt like butter against his skin. He was thirteen and would slip into designer dresses each night, learning makeup from YouTube tutorials, practicing with things left in his mother’s vanity and whatever he could discreetly put in his pockets at Meldvald’s.

He got pretty good. Good enough that at sixteen, he wanted more, would go to stores in Indianapolis, would spend his allowance on dresses, skirts, blouses, frilly little things that fit, that made him feel good, correct.

The first time he put on a pair of lacy panties, he almost cried. the material was soft, the cotton tight and nice against him, the delicate lace trimming the waist and legs was pretty. Steve realized, all he ever wants to be in his life is pretty.

He began thinking of himself as a girl, a young woman. He would tuck his dick back, make the space between his legs flat, let his hair grow out more, long enough to braid, to pin with floral clips.

He started dressing up, going out. Finding bars that would let him in if he batted his false eyelashes just so, would overlook his obviously fake I.D. so that he could go in, talk to men that were too old for him, too interested in his doe eyes, his soft cheeks, men that would buy him drinks, fuck him in the back seats of their cars, whisper about how pretty he looked, men that would touch his cock and coo that his pussy was so tight.

He found he didn’t like that but would grit his teeth, didn’t understand why wearing women’s clothes felt so right but the idea of having a women’s body felt wrong. He didn’t get why he felt the most himself, the most comfortable with his dick tucked up in lace panties, but the minute a man told him he was a good girl he felt sick. 

When he was seventeen, he stopped going out, stopped dressing up. He had Nancy now, a beautiful young woman who wanted a nice, regular young man. He almost told her, almost told her so many times, but then she was drunk, slurring in his face that he was bullshit, that he was fake, like he didn’t already know.

So he kept to himself, started dressing up again, putting on a full face, a delicate outfit the minute he got home. He would dance around while cooking diner, would float around the house in heels and sweeping dresses. They made him feel better, feel good. He would dress up on particularly bad days, would wear his most beautiful pieces when he got poor grades, when his father told him he was a disappointment over the phone. He had been informed today by his English teacher she had assigned him a tutor.

So he had blinked back tears while blending eyeshadow, had put on his prettiest dress, a pretty dark green number, the fabric light, delicate feminine. He was ready to wallow in self-pity and makeup when there was a knock on the door, followed by the voice of his something-like-a-friend Billy Hargrove, announcing with a laugh that you should REALLY start lockin’ your front door, Harrington. Wouldn’t want someone UNSAVORY comin’ in.

Steve was frozen in the kitchen, his best-kept secret all over his face, his body. Billy didn’t even blink twice when he saw Steve, asked what’s cookin’? while leaning over the stove. Steve’s eyes were screwed shut, breathing fast when Billy looked back, took Steve’s shoulder lightly in his hands said, you need to breathe, Sweet Thing, take it slow, match me. He rubbed gently down Steve’s arms, his eyes clear blue when Steve was able to open his own teary ones.

“Billy, you need to swear to me you won’t tell, you, I, people can’t know. They’ll, I mean, I know I’m a fucking freak but no one-”

“Whoa, who said you’re a freak?” Billy’s eyes were sharp.

“Look at me, Billy. I’m, I don’t know what I am. Sometimes, sometimes I wish that I was a girl, but, but something about that feels just, bad, but, but being a fucking boy feels like shit too, and I just,” he was sobbing, loudly and openly, knew his dark liner was no doubt streaming down his face.

“Hey, that’s okay, Honey, you don’t have to know. You just have to feel good.” He led Steve in a few more breaths. “It’s not black and white, you don’t have to be one or the other. You can just be you. Can be Steve, if you want.”

“What-I don’t understand.”

“Well, you don’t feel right as a boy, but you feel just as not right as a girl. There’s more than that. You have more options.” He turned off the stove, led Steve to his bag, whipping out a laptop covered in worn stickers. “So basically, there’re a whole bunch of genders.” He pulled up an infographic on his screen, a color-coded mess of columns and descriptions. “There’s way more than man and woman. There are people who are non-binary, don’t adhere to the idea of two genders. Sometimes non-binary people identify as another gender, a third gender, sometimes they identify as a mixture of identities. Agender people often identify as having no gender at all. genderfluid people tend to fluctuate between identities, can feel agender one day, the next feel like a man, it all depends on the person.” He looked at Steve, hand gentle on his arm. “And none of it’s wrong. There’s no correct way to be a human. And they each are up to interpretation. There are people who identify as agender but choose to present a certain way, there are people who identify as male but choose to present androgynous, there’s no one way to do it.”

“So if I, if I feel good like this,” Steve gestured to the dress, the smeared makeup. “I can still be, a guy, like I can just be a guy that likes to look like a girl.”

“If that feels best to you. Like I said, you don’t have to  be a guy, just because that’s what you were assigned at birth.”

“What do you mean? ‘Assigned at birth’?”

“That means the gender that’s on your birth certificate. It’s just a better way of saying like, male-bodied, since that can be, kinda shitty for people. And like, what even is a male body, you know?”

“You’re getting a little introspective for me here, Bill.”

“Basically, just because you were born with a dick and a doctor was like, it’s a boy, doesn’t mean you have to be a boy that likes looking like a girl, or whatever you said. That’s a perfectly valid way to be, a femme presenting guy, don’t get me wrong, but earlier you said you didn’t feel right as a boy, and I just don’t want you to back yourself into a corner.” Steve blinked.

“Yeah, I think, I think you’re right. I don’t, I’m not a guy. I don’t think.”

“You do not have to know right now. You literally just learned about this, you don’t have to like immediately make a choice. Take some time. Try different labels, try different pronouns, try no labels, see what feels best.” He smiled, looking at Steve softly. “If you want to, I can, like, help you. If you, if you think of something you want to try, it may be nice to, like, hear it from someone else.”

“What was, what was the one that was like, sometimes people identify as like, another gender?” Billy typed away, pulling up a new article.

“I think you mean non-binary. It’s more of an umbrella term to some people, they find more leeway in it.” He scrolled down, pointing at a list of pronouns. “So, some people who identify as non-binary also use alternative pronouns, things like they or ze, which is a way for them to be referred to outside of the gender binary.” Steve’s mind was racing. He tested the words on his tongue, thinking ze, sie, hir to himself, to, themself?

“But if I identify, as, as non-binary, or something, can I still, like, dress like this?”

“Of course. Identity and expression are two different things. To some, they go hand-in-hand, but to others, they can be totally separate.”

“I think, as of right now I think non-binary is okay.” Billy beamed.

“Okay! You don’t have to decide right now, and some folks never decide, they spend their lives flowing through different ways to identify and express themselves, and again, that’s totally fuckin’ okay. Nothing has to magically click into place for you. You can experiment.”

“Can I, can we experiment with, with they. I kinda, it kinda makes sense.” Billy just kept grinning, his smile huge and beautiful.

“Yes, I can do that.” But his face fell, “But I, I mean, this is fuckin’ Hawkins, and I don't’ know, I mean, is it, like safe?” Steve felt like their heart was breaking.

“No, it’s, I don’t think it is, I mean, there haven’t been like incidents but also, we don’t have a lot of people that are, like, openly different.” Billy’s brow was drawn.

“I can, I can call you whatever you want just the two of us, but, I don’t want to like, out you-”

“You can, you can say he was it’s, when it’s other people. I don’t, I don’t want this to get back to my dad, or anything.” Billy’s eyes were sharp.

“I can do that, I can protect you, like that.” He was nodding vigorously. “I just, I wanted to be on the same page, didn’t want to be like misgendering you behind your back and make you feel like shit.”

“You have my express permission to, uh, misgender me, or whatever you just said.” Steve sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I just gotta get outta this fuckin’ town, man. Then I’ll be good. Live my little queer life outside of the shitty bar outside of town.” Billy laughed.

“You go there?”

“I used to, when I was first kinda, questioning myself. Used to let guys fuck me and call me, like, their pretty little slut or whatever. Not my finest moments.”

“Christ, Stevie. That’s some deep shit. I went once when I first got into town, and some guy was like, I wanna hear you screaming ‘Daddy’ for me and I was like, nope. No thank you to That.” Steve laughed with him.

“I’m pretty sure I did let that guy fuck me. Bily groaned.

“Stevie, no. Don’t call random men Daddy.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Bill, I got a lot of daddy issues.”

“Yeah, me too, but not that many.”

“Just enough to be called Daddy, then?” Billy went red, dropped his eyes from Steve as they cackled. “Hit the nail on the fuckin’ head then, didn’t I?”

“Whatever, you little asshole. Let’s just fuckin’ get on with your English homework that is why I’m here after all. Go grab your books.” Steve grinned, leaning in close to Billy.

“Okay, Daddy,” they purred, racing off up the stairs laughing loudly, hearing Billy cursing them out from the kitchen.

[poptod]

The One Time Debt was Good (Elliot Alderson x Reader)

Request: Hi there could you do an Elliot x reader where the reader gets liked fucked up or something and Elliot helping her clean up the cuts and blood and stuff (ok thanks bye have a nice day 💓)

Took me a bit but I finally finished it. I made it gender neutral bc that shit fucks. also, there’s a small paragraph of graphic injury description. part 2

He’d warned you about this, you knew that, and you knew you should’ve listened. He hardly ever warns you against anything, hardly ever tries to stop you from hurting yourself, so when for once he told you not to do something, of course you had to ignore his advice. The one time he tries to care about you, and you have to ignore it.

To be fair, with or without his input it was a bad idea. Mosh pits aren’t exactly the safest place, not for someone like you at least, especially metal mosh pits. You hadn’t expected this in any future vision, though; your clothes are almost completely torn off of you, shreds just barely covering your bruised, blood-drenched skin. Thankfully most of it wasn’t your blood - a fight broke out and you were pushed straight into the middle of it, so a good amount of it probably belonged to the very people who beat you to a pulp.

Your first thought, practically crawling out of the concert, was I should probably go to the hospital. A perfectly rational thought and a good idea, but you then remembered you’re still in debt from the last time you were at the hospital, and that was three years ago. Fortunately for you and unfortunately for Elliot (you assume, you don’t think he likes you very much) his apartment was closest to you, so gathering your shreds of humanity and the fifty-two cents in your pocket, you made your way to him.

Several people stared at you, several didn’t, and by the time you were knocking at his door you felt a little faint. Leaning on the wall, you barely raise your knuckles to rap at the door and within a few seconds you can hear his footsteps. A sigh leaves you, relaxed and anxious all at once - he’s comforting, at least he is to you, but again, he doesn’t like you very much.

Slowly the door creaks open, though it takes him a moment before he looks to his left to find you breathing heavy against the wall, dry blood flaking off your skin and sticking to the wall. He doesn’t say anything, of course he doesn’t, but he opens the door a little, and you walk in with a tiny ‘thank you.’

“I’m really sorry about this,” you manage to get out, your throat dry and horribly sore from screaming. “I would’ve gone to the hospital, but… you know. Can’t really afford that.” Vaguely he nods, not meeting your eye as you ask to use the shower. With his permission granted you wash the blood off yourself, the dirt and grime, noticing the splotches of red, yellow, and blue that are the permanent reminders of the night. The bruises practically coat your ribs - when you press down on them it hurts so badly you wonder if you broke something.

When you get out you hesitate to redress yourself, considering your clothes are still grimy and bloodied, but before you can even make a decision on what to do the bathroom door opens just a crack. One hand carrying a stack of clothes sneaks in, placing the clothes on the counter before quickly retreating behind the closing door.

This is exactly why I’ve got the stupidest crush in the universe, you think, groaning internally at yourself. These little moments, rare and far between, moments where he does something purely human, keep you around him. Grabbing the clothes, you pause for a moment, taking in the scent and softness before dressing yourself. There isn’t any underwear, which you should’ve expected, and any sane person would probably just wear their own underwear, but instead you go commando. In the foggy mirror you examine yourself in the baggy sweatshirt and pants, wondering how to go about thanking him.

Surprisingly, you have even less time to think about it than you thought, since as soon as you open the door he’s standing there. For a while he just stares at you, and you stare back, confused as to what he’s trying to achieve. Finally he opens his mouth, hesitant to speak but he eventually does.

“You’ve… got a thing.. down your back,” he says, which is confusing in itself. With a furrowed brow you walk back into the bathroom, taking the sweatshirt off and trying to look at your back in the mirror. Sure enough, there’s a massive cut down your spine, and it’s still bleeding a bit - it’s astounding you haven’t noticed it yet, considering just the sight of it makes you sick.

“Oh dear god,” you say, feeling the acidic burn in the back of your throat grow worse.

“Here,” he mumbles, managing to maneuver you while barely touching you so your face is to the mirror. “I can stitch you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say quickly, your heart racing at the thought of stitches. You’ve gotten them before, but that was with an anesthetic, not straight out. In fear you whip around, hoping that’ll keep him and his needle away from your skin, but now you’re face to face with him and suddenly the needle seems friendlier. Your breath catches in time with his, the both of you frozen in the moment as you both try to decipher what’s happening. He stammers when he gains control of his body again, stepping back so his back is against the wall and he’s as far from you as possible.

“I have vodka,” he says, “if that’d make you feel better.”

“Yeah, that actually would,” you say with a sigh, relieved to be able to catch yourself as he leaves the bathroom. He returns a minute or so later, trying desperately not to stare at your naked torso. He unscrews the cap, and after you take a few gulps of the drink (which does nothing for your sore throat), he pours a little down into your cut. You wince, your grip on the sink tighter than your clenched teeth, a headache sprouting from the tension in your jaw.

“Ready?” He asks, looking at you over your shoulder through the mirror. You nod - you’re not going to get much more ready, so you might as well get it over with.

As the needle prods at your skin, poking into your flesh and sprouting little droplets of blood, you try not to think on the sensation. You try to think of anything, anything besides the cool metal pulling string through your back and tugging at your skin. Instead you focus on him, on his concentrated face; he’s biting at his cheek, his mouth opening to talk to himself in words you can’t hear.

It takes a shorter amount of time than you thought it did. The pain is now aching, spreading up your spine and into your head and down through your legs.

“I guess my skin must’ve snagged on someone’s spikes,” you groan hoarsely when he finishes up, tugging at your ripped skin as he tries to knot the string in place.

“I told you not to go,” he says, low and quiet, still not meeting your eye.

“Doesn’t matter now,” you say with a sigh, rubbing your side with your hand to massage the pain out, though it does very little. When you turn around he glances up at you, sparing just a second to watch you before leaving the bathroom.

Rubbing your face wearily you follow, your steps careful and slow as you try to put the sweatshirt back on. It proves a lot more difficult, what with the string preventing your skin from stretching, but you manage to get it on eventually. He’s in his kitchen filling a glass with water when you enter, and as usual he can’t stand to look at you.

“Thanks for patching me up, by the way,” you mumble, leaning against the counter with your hands gripping it tight, still trying to ignore the pain in your back and ache of your bruised legs and arms. He sets the glass down, and for a moment it looks as if he’s going to ignore you as usual, but he turns to you with pursed lips.

“Why do you do stuff that you know is going to hurt you?”

Your eyes widen at his straightforwardness, stuttering as you try to come up with a plausible answer. The only problem is you never even realized you do that, you never thought you were looking for pain, but when you look back at your past decisions it seems obvious. How long as he been putting up with your masochistic tendencies?

“I… I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I never realized that I do that.”

Your thoughts go back to when you were little - in your teenage years you had a history of self harm, but you never thought of it as a hatred thing. It was just another way to feel pain, another way to feel real in a world where so much is faux. The memory of a razor cutting your skin to shreds just to watch your blood drip freely from your hips and arms makes you curl in on yourself, something that Elliot notices.

“I think I need to sit down,” you say, your voice cracking with the lightheaded feeling swirling around you. He lets you sit on the couch before he speaks again, sitting on the couch with you but as far from you as he can.

“Take my advice, next time,” he tells you, crossing his legs.

“And for now?”

He doesn’t answer. The TV buzzes in your background as exhaustion takes its’ toll on you, the fight, the walk, and the cleaning up tiring every bone in your body. It doesn’t take long at all until you’re lying down, your eyes closed as you can’t bear to keep them open. You’re still conscious, still listening to the dialogue of a show you’ve never watched before and the typing on Elliot’s laptop. It’s not long at all till the typing stops, and he sets his computer down on the ground as quietly as possible. With the shuffling of clothes and footsteps, you hear him come closer, and the cushion your legs are resting on dips down.

A thousand thoughts run through your head, a hundred theories and at least fifty conspiracies tackle what in the world Elliot could be doing, but none of them lead to a satisfying answer. Then he’s touching you, something he never does, not unless he absolutely has to - and it’s surprisingly affectionate. You’re barely able to keep your breath under control as he brushes your hair back, fingers just barely skimming across from your temple to behind your ear. Clothes rustle again, and you can feel his heat right up against your cheek. Every single one of your thoughts is now focused on one thing: stay absolutely still.

Somehow you manage to do it, somehow you’re still breathing even with closed eyes, though you have no idea if there’s a prominent blush on your cheeks. You’d guess yes but he still hasn’t moved; he sounds like he’s muttering something, but even right next to your ear, the heat of his speech brushing your skin, you can’t pick out what exactly he’s saying.

He’s so close, so unbearably close that you can’t decipher just when his lips touch you - he’s been hovering over your temple so long that the difference between his heat and touch is thin. Sometime in there you realize he’s kissing you, one long, sweet kiss on your temple, and suddenly the entirety of the evening is something you know you’ll never forget.

The cushion resumes its’ given position as he stands, and the rustling of his clothes combined with the absence of his heat tells you he’s gone. With a buzz and a click, the hum of the television goes out, and Elliot retreats to his bedroom.

You fall asleep soon after, your dreams more pleasant than ever with the new revelation.

[isadcrajade]

💀 * [ barbie ferreira + cis female + she/her ] —— have you met isadora oliveira ? they are a twenty-one year old sophomore currently studying fashion design & merchandising. they live on keating house, and word around campus is that this aries is loyal + warm, as well as self-objectifying + obsequious. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. chocolate covered strawberries, gothic platforms, lingerie under leather jackets.

hiii bbies it’s me (gabby) finally here again to post this finalized, messy version of isa’s intro! she’s a brand new never-been-played muse of mine so it’s def bound to be a bit more scattered & less developed than ezra’s, but also much shorter? so i mean there’s a bonus lmao alright here we go:

so isadora (also known by many nicknames such as isa, izzy, iz, & dora the explora if ur trying to piss her off vgbjhksjs) was definitely not brought up in a world of prestige and recognition like the one she’s become so accustomed to in attending holloway university

growing up in the small town of lisbon, maine the only reality isa knew during her childhood was that of living as the only child of a woman who was (TW) both a compulsive liar & and compulsive hoarder. their house was floor to ceiling with things her mom collected as well as garbage built up over time- her condition had already driven isa’s father out of the house when she was just three years old, and she never had a relationship with him as a result

she was still fairly young when she realized the true severity of her own situation, just how abnormal it was compared to that of her friends. she missed out on so many rights of passage during her upbringing like birthday parties, sleepovers, etc. for much of her life her own living space / bedroom were just as bad off as the rest of the house, given her mom’s inability to keep from passing her hoarding tendencies onto her daughter. isa simply didn’t know any better at the time. to her, that was normal.

not only was her mom a compulsive liar & hoarder but she was also extremely neglectful, often leaving isa to her own devices in the dangerous environment they called home. as a result of this she (TW ED) developed harmful coping mechanisms surrounding food, regularly overeating to combat negative feelings of loneliness, and this went on from the time she was just a little girl all the way until she was in high school

high school was rough in many ways- she suffered depression, anxiety, experienced bullying at the hands of the more popular kids for her weight & her mother’s financial situation, and was all around extremely isolated from her peers- the only person she really had to depend on was her cousin (WC) . she had so much respect and envy for her cousin, they had more of a sisterly dynamic than anything, she was just so gorgeous and everything she did just seemed so effortless, to the point isa couldn’t help but idolize her and consider her a best friend. 

like, remember when spongebob said he hoped that by being in squidward’s presence some of his artistic ability would rub off onto him? that was deadass isa & (WC) in high school jhbksnjs my girl was so sure if she just spent enough time with her she’d inherit some of her pretty & cool

high school was also where she reached a turning point when it came to her home environment, able to put a name to her mom’s condition after years of struggling with her strained and toxic relationship with her mom, and ultimately changed the rest of her life. she stayed the night at (WC’s) one night and after she fell asleep, isa stayed up watching TLC- it was there that she first discovered the TV show ‘hoarding: buried alive’ and realized there was a name for her mother’s infliction- but more importantly, learned that there was help available for her condition

when she went home to excitedly tell her mother that she’d basically discovered a cure, a means to change everything for them... she certainly hadn’t been expecting the reaction that came: her mom, who’d always been so indifferent toward her, so lethargic and uninterested in what she had to say, was suddenly listening very clearly- and she was not happy. isa had never heard her mom scream like that, had never really heard her express any heightened emotion, but it was in that moment at 17 years old, just a few weeks away from her 18th birthday, that she realized what she needed to do. she had no choice but to make plans to leave her mom behind.

the final weeks leading up to the big day she was counting on as a turning point consisted of her cleaning out her own space, little by little, enough that she had somewhere to set up her secondhand laptop and webcam. blowing out the candles on her 18th birthday cake came with wishing for a whole new life, and she was determined to make that for herself by any means necessary.

(TW SEX WORK) isa spent half her 18th year in her room working as a successful camgirl, showing everything but her face, & of course always being careful not to dox herself. she eventually earned enough money to start buying herself nicer clothes, but it didn’t take her long to realize she wanted more from life than just rotting away in her hometown. she bought herself a higher quality webcam to keep making money... and a nice sewing machine, something she’d always dreamed of owning. 

all her life she’d been drawing and sketching as a means of escapism, it’d always been therapeutic to her to be creative and conjure up unique designs for outfits in her mind, drawing models in all shapes and sizes to represent her fantasy outfits. but she never felt like a visionary, even though anyone with an eye for fashion who got a look at her work could see that she had the natural talent and potential to be. 

isa had been an a straight-A student her whole life despite having almost no support at home from her mother growing up, and with plenty of encouragement from (cousin WC), she plucked up the courage and applied for holloway university, with ivory falls being far enough from her hometown of lisbon, but still in the same state so that she could go and see her mother from time to time (bc although their relationship is quite strained now, she still loves and worries about her)

the next summer she received her acceptance letter at holloway u for the coming fall semester, and the fact that she’d been able to make it into such a prestigious school made her feel so proud of herself that she completely underwent a massive arc of character development; evolving into someone so much more confident. realizing that plenty of people found her desirable as she continued to earn money through cam shows had been part of that transformation, but realizing she was talented enough to get accepted into the fashion design and merchandising program at her dream school had a completely different effect on her. 

( TW BODY IMAGE ISSUES ) isa decided that as she entered college, she was no longer going to be the meek, insecure girl constantly playing the role of the doting, loyal fat best friend to the ‘prettier main characters’ she’d always been sidekick to- she told herself that she was the main fucking character in her life from here on, and has spent her entire college experience up to this point just,, navigating as she figures out what that really means to her

still has a terrible underlying tendency to be overly-loyal and a bit obsessive with girls she closely befriends, if she has any kind of jealousy towards them. but ! is a lot more confident than she used to be, and it shows in the way she dresses and carries herself, as well as in her long-term goals (to transfer to FIDM for her final years of university)

( TW ED MENTION ) as a young adult, she’s mostly she’s replaced the compulsion to deal with her body image issues by using food to cope that she had as a teenager... by using sex to cope instead, so she’s definitely a bit promiscuous but does her best to keep that Her Own business 

personality-wise she has a massive heart & is loyal to a fault but is also wild AF & loves a good time! never rly dabbled in drugs until she got to college but since then has acquired an interest in trying everything under the sun, even if it’s just one and done. mostly though she just likes to get really drunk & stupid. used to feel like she was constantly living in her cousin’s shadow, & in some ways she still does, but she’s trying hard to make herself believe that she’s reached a place where she won’t be playing second fiddle to anyone, ever again

i’m gonna shut the hell up now & stop pretending i know this character better than i do bc i deadass do not jbhnjss like she’s literally brand new so lemme go head & leave plenty of room for development!

same story as ezra i’ll have a full connections page posted for her soon but in the meantime some ideas i have are: friends, frienemies, ex friends, high school bullies, classmates, old high school friends, people she gets fuckt up with on the reg, people she hooks up with on the reg (any gender, she’s bisexual / biromantic), someone she had a crush on in high school / has pined for from afar maybe?? someone who used to watch her cam shows?? someone she almost kinda dated but Not? someone who she hooked up with while they were dating someone else?? idk that’s what i have for now but there’ll be more where that came from <3 xoxo like this or hmu !

[evilsquirrelstuff]

👀

Found out I actually finished most of the stories I started this year, damn. 

I have another Centricide piece. I wrote this mostly bc I had some le edgy humor idea and didn’t want to forget it. Again, warning for Nazi mention, Richard Spencer body pillow, very bad youtube apologies (wrote this before summer lol) and racism. 

Posting this whole because it’s short (538 words). I regret everything nothing.

A new message from Homonationalist. Finally. Transhumanist felt that he was close to finding out more about the mystery of the DNA test. And… it was just yet another link, as if he didn’t even read the message. Disappointing. 

“Guys, Homonationalist made another video,” Transhumanist called with a laptop on his lap. In a moment, all the other ideologies sat on the couch with him. 

“He became slave to modern technology. Very sad, Grug could prevent-”

“You? How? By smashing everything more modern than a stone?” Anmon laughed. “Or by dancing the Unabomber Manifesto? Even that dead plant in the corner is more persuasive than you!” 

“Wait, yet another one of my plants died? How does this keep happening?” Posadist seemed genuinely surprised.

“Maybe you could water them sometimes,” Anmon said with a smirk on his face. 

“Beep boop, stop arguing about irrelevant things,” Transhumanist said. Everyone went silent. While none of them were particularly interested in make-up, this was their only contact with Homonationalist since he left them and they were the bigger part of his tiny audience. Of course, when someone names their channel gaythnostate they shouldn’t expect to become a big youtuber. 

“Hi, guys! Welcome to my channel! It’s time for another of my make-up tutorials!” Homonationalist waved at the camera. His room was tidy except for the Richard Spencer body pillow in the corner, but knowing him, Transhumanist concluded Homonationalist arranged it there on purpose. “First, I’m gonna use this new foundation…”

The shade Homonationalist used seemed to be #ffffff. “I like how the white cancels any other color I might have in my face. Honestly, I never understood why everyone tried to make themselves look darker…”

Transhumanist didn’t understand why Homonationalist tried to make himself look like a clown. Especially after his encounter with the clownish neighbor earlier that day. He wasn’t able to find out what happened to him, but the clown kept screaming “Clowning in my skin” and rolling on the road. While he might’ve had some compassion for him at the beginning, when his blockade caused problems with pizza delivery, he just grabbed the clown and threw him over the fence into his garden. When he checked the last time, the clown was still rolling in the grass. 

“Now I’m going in with the shade Ocean from Hoppean’s palette This palette is only for normal women, do you understand, degenerate? To which I can only say that I’m too gay to read.”

“He really wants to cause a conflict between Ancapistan and the International Union of Nationalists. Incredible.” Posadist’s smile was radiating. 

“I’ve read in your comments that you aren’t really living for me saying the n-word.” Oh no. No. Whatever comes next will be bad. “Look, you have to understand that I was in a very dark place yesterday.” Homonationalist looked directly into the camera. “Have you ever been to the Bronx?” 

Transhumanist should’ve predicted that he would say something like that. If he was sure about something, it was that he heard that the nationalists were trying to sign a deal with Hoppean and it didn’t go well because of Homonationalist. Was he in two places at once? 

“My sister-wife wouldn’t like this look,” Anmon said. 

[millennial-ring]

Can we get more on the three P's? Pain, Pride, and Pure?

           17. PAIN

So this is actually the document where I saved the RP where Bakura came back to find Malik engaged to Seto, aptly named “PAIN” because it’s...fairly angsty. Me and this friend used to RP on Skype, making new group chats with side accounts before deleting them and leaving the two of us (which is so unnecessarily inconvenient lol but it’s what we had to do so we could rp multiple things at a time/not lose the rp in our regular group) and whenever we finished or got bored of an RP one of us would sit down, scroll all the way to the top, and copy and paste the entire thing into a word doc for re-readability. We rp’d it for well over a year, if not longer, so there’s no way to really reread it and condense it into a summary because sooo much happens. I guess highlights that I remember (or at least thing I remember fgjkdjh? we started this rp in 2016)

Bakura gives Malik a necklace he made himself (instead of a ring) before they part ways and Malik ofc keeps wearing it even after Bakura comes back and screams at them. There’s one scene early into the power relationship (when Malik still considers them fuck buddies) where Malik jumps into bed with Ryou, shoves his phone into his face, and starts screaming about Seto’s “you’re adorable” reply to a no-make up, bedhead selfie Malik had sent (bc how dare Seto be cute and do romantic things like that and kiss Malik’s hand and feed Malik chocolate covered strawberries before sex and buy him jewelry when they’re just fucking!) and Ryou’s just like “oh my fucking god just date him already gtfo my room I want to sleep.” Uhm... Malik and Seto are in the middle of wedding planning (visiting Isis and Rishid in Egypt at the time) when Bakura comes back, but they’re talking about a spring wedding in one of the parks/gardens in Seto’s neighborhood and Seto makes a comment about having the ceremony under the wisteria tree because he wants to see wisteria blossoms in Malik’s hair. Malik imagines brushing stray petals from Seto’s hair as they lean in for the kiss that will bind them for life - and then ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE. Bakura passes out after using all his energy to scream at Malik (bc he JUST returned from the shadows, having had to go through multiple trials and actually give up some of his memories to be able to return) and they put him in the guest bedroom while Malik calls Ryou for help. While they wait for Ryou, Bakura wakes up and crawls out the window and runs away LOL. Uhm... Malik has a fluffy white therapy cat, ykno one of those grumpy looking smoosh faced ones, named Bakura. At some point while they’re still in Egypt Ryou takes Bakura to Kul Elna, where there’s a monument/memorial to the people that died in the massacre, and a very close knit community. Ryou takes Bakura to a community garden run by a pregnant woman named Adela who also owns a restaurant there - the food grown by the locals is used in the restaurant and iirc there was also some kind of donations thing going on where struggling families could come and take whatever they needed provided they bring back seeds or the scraps for compost or help a bit in the garden or something like that. I don’t think we ever made it explicit but we were pretty much implying that Adela was Bakura’s Actual Mom reincarnated. I think Bakura was also around for the birth, but I can’t remember much of it aside from him holding the baby. But the modern Kul Elna village actually practiced a lot of the old traditions and Bakura’s like “whoa... fuck it I might move here”. Uuuhh Bakura tells Ryou how every family in Kul Elna had a special “tzai” (tea) recipe and it could only be shared with people close to said family...before he makes some for Ryou. I think my friend got this from Star Wars? But I like it and we’ve included it in basically all our rps since. Uhm~ At one point Bakura kisses Malik and Malik slaps him and that’s how Bakura knows It’s Really Over. Malik and Seto play rock paper scissors to decide who bottoms every now and then, but it’s moreso a way to say “I want to bottom tonight but for some reason my pride keeps me from saying it outright” (dear 2016 us: bottoming is not shameful!) but also we never rp’d it, it was part of a time skip, but Malik and Seto had a threesome with Ryou and Ryou ate Seto’s ass. That’s all. We had Atem coming back and I remember he wanted to try and smooth things over but whenever Bakura saw him he had a panic attack. Uhm...that’s all for now lol, I can’t really remember much else.

             18. pride

Unfortunately, again, this is not a document about prideshipping. Every so often I get emotional and I start writing emotional things that I think I’ll post to Facebook, but then I either chicken out because I don’t want to be known or perceived. Let people continue to think I’m a hyperactive halfwit and have no deeper meaning to my thoughts. It’s chill. 

But this one was about the concept of LGBT Pride and how I felt about it, how startled I am sometimes when I run across support and acceptance in unconventional or unexpected places, how I worked hard to be comfortable enough to make the “because I’m gay” jokes out loud because growing up in a rural Kansas town I was exposed to my fair share of homophobia, both from family and from community, and even the people I called friends. It was gonna be one of those “wow I love my friends and family because now that I’ve weeded out the assholes I’m surrounded by love and support and this is exactly how much it means to me and why!” kinda posts, but I’m really bad at those, so this stayed in my WIPs. Maybe when Pride month rolls around again and I get nostalgic and emotional again I’ll finish it.

             19. pure

This one’s a “fic” written about mine and my friend’s OCs from an old superhero/supervillain RP group. My character, Zaine, was separated from his girlfriend, Tansy, during a battle with heroes that killed a lot of supers and civilians alike. They were reunited after a few years (both had assumed the other had died and somehow hadn’t run into each other at all asdkja, it was our excuse as to why the characters had changed so much (since we were coming back to rp these characters after a few years ourselves, and wanted to revamp them a bit without them losing their relationships or experiences). But in that time, Zaine became better friends with his buddy Forest, and before the gal who made Tansy rejoined the group, me and the guy who made Forest were debating if Zaine and Forest should get together. But Tansy came back and Zaine got back together with her, but I made it canon that Zaine was crushing on Forest prior to that/still a bit after Tansy came back. Zaine is in a band and it’s sort of a running joke that his band members are all betting how long it takes for a threesome or for Tansy (who’s a bit possessive) to attack Forest, and they constantly tease Zaine about how much time he spends with Forest, make “hey don’t fuel the shippers” jokes, some other stuff along those lines, etc. It’s all good natured tho.

Anyway that’s all canon. The fic was “pureshipping” - Zaine, Tansy, and Forest. It was kinda me exploring how a relationship might develop between the three of them and I was writing little bits for my friends at work based on the answers they gave me to the “How would they react to/feel about this” questions I asked before turning that into a proper story. 

It started with Tansy trying to remember when exactly she became open to the idea of polyamory, since as I said, she’s a bit possessive and got jealous easily. She recalls a night Zaine brings Forest back to their apartment after a bachelor party, with them plastered and barely able to stand. They fall down, and Zaine shushes Forest because Tansy has her laptop out and she’s working. Forest shushes Zaine back, they put their fingers against each other’s lips and keep shushing each other, drawing closer until the only thing separating their mouths are their fingers, and Tansy’s just like “whoa” and something clicks because A) she sees Zaine’s lids lower while looking at Forest the way they do when he wants to kiss HER and B) why is she not freaking out about this isn’t she a poisonous little viper that hisses at anyone that tries to flirt with Zaine? But nope, she’s never been jealous of Forest even if his and Zaine’s relationship is fairly intimate for what most consider friendship. And then a few days later she sees one of those memes that’s like “Zaine has two hands” (bc Forest is also a famous musician, and he and Zaine do a lot together, both professionally on the music front and in like. Idk, livestreams and general hanging out. so ofc weirdos ship them, and since Zaine and Tansy went public there’s gonna be ppl that include her in the weirdness) on a TVD fan page she follows so she understands some of Zaine’s inside jokes and she sees a comment from Zaine’s official facebook that’s like “these hands were made for holding!” 

and Tansy’s like. “Oh shit. Zaine DOES have two hands!” so a few days later over breakfast she asks Zaine how he REALLY feels about Forest and ofc he’s like “he’s my best friend???” and Tansy’s like “ok but no for real how do you REALLY feel about him” and then calls him out about about having a crush on him and Zaine, who’s canonically weirdly monogamous is like “no!!” but Tansy whittles him down until he admits he “HAD” a crush on Forest before he and Tansy reconnected, but swears nothing happened between them and Tansy’s like “WOULD YOU LIKE TO?” and brings up the idea of Zaine dating Forest, and Zaine’s like “I’m with you, Tans, I didn’t mean to make you feel inadequate” and she’s like “I appreciate it but not what I meant. I know you, Zaine, I know you’re a lover and not being able to tell Forest how you really feel is hurting you, so if you want to then I highly encourage you ask him out” and after like 2 whole days of debating Zaine comes back to her saying he was going to, and then a few days later they invite Forest over to have The Talk and Tansy says they’re free to date, but Forest is still mourning Kelvin, his fiancé that “died” ((in quotes bc these aren’t our characters to actually kill so all characters are just assumed dead if the roleplayer didn’t rejoin but ofc if they came back “hey surprise i’m alive!) in the war between heroes and villains and says he needs time to think about it. He thinks it over for two whole weeks -and in the meantime, Tansy is happy to see his and Zaine’s relationship hasn’t changed at all- before agreeing. They sit down to discuss boundaries and permissions and whatever, and this line: 

Tansy would never dream of forbidding them from doing anything that she and Zaine would do, especially because Zaine was a lover. He loved with all his heart, soul, and body, as if his purpose in life was to treasure his partners so thoroughly they would never question his feelings for them. It would be unfair to Forest and downright cruel to Zaine for Tansy to restrict them.

aaaa I know I wrote it but I love it. So after boundaries are discussed and all that Zaine and Forest have their first proper kiss, and it’s so sweet Tansy feels breathless alongside them. The three of them cuddle up to watch a movie but Zaine’s paying more attention to the two of them, taking turns kissing each of them while Tansy and Forest accidentally start competing for who can pull the most reactions from Zaine. Forest starts spending every weekend at Zaine and Tansy’s place and it always ends with them cuddling on the couch while watching movies, Zaine between them, but overtime Forest and Tansy become more affectionate with each other and end game was obviously the three of them, but I stopped writing it just after Forest spent the first night in bed with them.

Tansy smiled and looped her arm around Zaine, cuddling up to his side like a cat seeking attention. Zaine’s own arm found its way around her shoulders to keep her close. The last thing Tansy saw before her eyes dropped closed was Forest on the other side of Zaine mirroring her, and the last touch she registered was Forest’s hand brushing over her arm.

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Blood, tears and sea breeze

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

First Previous Next

Chapter 14: I can have dinner

"Ready dear?" SOCO Brian came inside Alec's office looking for Ellie.

"Yes dear, just a moment" Alec responded in a dead serious tone, making both Ellie and Brian perplex for a whole minute "I'm obviously joking" he add embarrassed.

He had been like that on the week, casually making unnecessary light hearted comments, and behaving in what could almost be a good mood, he even had say thanks to Harford for his cup of tea in the morning, and Miller was sure about the reason but she pretend she didn't notice.

"Shitface has a sense of humor, you should do it more often" Brian said laughing, Alec didn't seem to mind the nickname this time, and then turn to Miller "I'll wait on the car" then he exited the room.

"His car?" Alec asked once the man left.

"I have been staying at his place a lot more after the weekend, we went to London, the kids loved it" She explained, she knew she didn't have to, but she wanted to.

"That's why you were late on Monday?" He asked.

"Yeah, he make me the favor to take the kids to school, and then he called to say Tom had gotten into a fight, I think your new admirer took her chance at that moment" she laughed again about Ashley being so direct about wanting a date with him. "I hope this laptop has more to say about the attack, tomorrow Jonathan will have been dead for two weeks"

"I know, you should leave, it's late and I can't concentrate on this, we have to make the reconstruction tomorrow and brief the superintendent on our progress, and she won't be happy" She gave him a compassionate look before leaving and he turned off the lights before exiting the room.

A salty, delicious smell welcomed him once he entered his house, all the lights were on and a happy chat coming from the kitchen made him feel out of place, like if that was not his home, it was devastating to think that a warm happy place was not his home, not like he missed the gray empty environment from the weeks before but he was just not ready to that sudden change, specially knowing that the light was coming from someone that in the best case scenario was going to leave once they catch the killer.

It was the second time that week he felt out of place, at least this time he wouldn't have to make excuses about not following Ashley Langford to her house for a night cap. It had been a disastrous interrogation, more so since she actually acted like they were on a date.

The lights of the Trader's Hotel bar were dim, maybe to make the occasional guests down there cozy enough to avoid leaving to find a better place, and Becca Fisher was chatting animatedly with Ashley Langford.

Alec waited for a moment before approaching, a childish idea that Becca may have told the woman about his embarrassing attempt to seduce her all those years ago, that was a blurry stupid mistake, but somehow he still felt uneasy around her for it.

Then a poisonous idea that maybe she told Paul when they were together, make him feel angry, perfect, young, good mate Paul, he had been avoiding that train of thoughts since the next stop was a pair of bare feet on his wooden floor rearranging his record and book collection, and as Miller had very eloquently pointed out, he was getting too close to this case.

"Hello" he said awkwardly and sit next to her, Becca pour a whiskey to him and then she walked away.

"You really have that look all the time don't you?" She smiled with her perfect teeth and he only took a tiny sip of the drink, he was still working but he was also very tired to following all this dead ends.

"So Ms. Langford, about the owner of the bar where Y/N was attacked, the BC dreamland" A stupid name for a nightclub he thought "A man named Mike Bolzano, do you know him?" She looked disappointed, no longer sad as in the morning, just plain disappointed.

"I don't know him personally, more like professionally, I may have taken a free drink from him once or twice, but nothing apart from that, my brother on the other hand has arranged a catering service from our business to his club to special events but I don't tend to go to those, I make the food and manage the books, Charlie does the rest". She tried to approach him again "I can't believe you have the case for Jonathan, we were very impressed about the Latimer's case, I mean Y/N and me, I'm glad you are taking care of my friend" she had long lashes on her green eyes, but the mention of Y/N was enough for him to not notice that.

"Daze?" He said perplex once his daughter bright smile welcomed him to the kitchen. "But is a Thursday".

"Hi to you too dad, bad day?" She said rolling her eyes the same way he did to Miller and Y/N drowned a little laugh. "Your prisoner and I make dinner, you want some?"

"Sure... she is not my prisoner, she is... what are you doing here again?" He said taking the glass of wine Y/N offered to him, the whole scene was too surreal to cope with, so he drank the whole glass immediately.

"Well it's Beth's birthday tomorrow and Chloe wanted to see her mother, and I couldn't came last week on the spring break, and I really needed a break from Uni, I know is not right, but is only two days" she start and served a plate of rice with clams and shrimp on the table for him.

"I'm sure your father is thrill to have you here, I didn't came back that often when I was in uni, I wish I had" Y/N said with a sad smile "at least my parents have Ash here to keep them company"

"Is that the friend you were talking about?" Dasy asked and Alec stop eating to listen carefully, he had listened to Ashley's version and hadn't had the chance to ask Y/N about some parts of that story.

"Well she was my neighbor for like my whole life, you know how are things around here, and we used to play all the time, I guess her parents let me be around in case she passed out so someone could scream for help, and well she always was the well educated one, respecting the elderly and doing her homework you know, I always was more of a troublemaker" She wink at him and he couldn't help to feel a little attracted to her "I was there for her, and she was there for me, she was the sister I always wanted, I mean I had Charlie but she was a girl and when you have parents as conservative as mine is basically impossible to feel free"

"Where they strict?" He asked assuming that Charles views on women had been learn in a misogynistic family, and understanding now why she was not living with them.

"My dear father called me a whore the moment he saw me in primary school talking to a boy, so yes detective they were strict, I was often send to the church to be punished, so Y/N always got in trouble only to keep me company, she has always been like that" her eyes were nostalgic, and he felt her sincere for the first time. "Anyway they throw me out and Mr. And Mrs. Y/L/N took me in, their elder children had gone away long before so they miss having a lot of people at home, I stayed there and start working, I even made uni on long distance since I had no money at all, when she finished uni we rented an apartment downtown, you living independently, Y/N and I have this crazy idea of travel the world once we got enough money" she said with a puzzling look, sad but also proud?.

"I was ready to leave town, I had been healthy for years, we were leaving on our own, I even saved enough money to the trip, for me and her, but my parents didn't want me to go, I don't think I have ever fought with them before, but you know how it is, sometimes children don't understand what their parents do for their own good, and sometimes parents don't understand that their children are already grown ups" Y/N gave him a meaningful look and he nodded in agreement. "Ashley tried to talk to them telling them she was joining me and that everything will be fine... but we never got to make amends" for a moment Hardy thought she would lost control again but she only nodded with her eyes closed and looked at Dasy "That's why you should make amends with Chloe, a true friend will be always there for you, I wouldn't have survived without her or Paul, I mean my older siblings were too old, they never really got me, and they had their lifes away from broadchurch, so I was alone."

"What's wrong with Chloe?" Alec asked alarmed

"Nothing dad, is just that she is older, and I don't know... is stupid" she said lowering her gaze. He was about to go back to his plate but Y/N gave him a look urging him to keep asking. Fine darling he thought and immediately remembered that this was not a family dinner, even when he was happy pretending it was.

"Oi! You can tell me, come on" he said and she finally look at him.

"Ok, she has a boyfriend, and she spends all the time with him and her uni friends, I don't know, I assume I would be the one fitting in but I felt left behind" she said and Y/N distractedly walked out of the kitchen to give them space to talk alone.

"When her parents die she was a mess, she didn't want to leave their house, thankfully Paul was there for her, he had always been into her, but I guess it was at that time that she look at him with other eyes, she never wanted to leave Broadchurch after that, she gave me part of her savings to open the Deli, she is like that you know? I suppose that's why Paul and Jonathan fell for her, she is just perfect"

"Then do you have any idea of someone that may want to hurt her? Or her fiance?" He said recovering his composure.

"Jonathan was not here for long enough to make enemys, and Y/N was loved by everyone, even my stupid brother and my parents always thought she was perfect, and now I bet you think the same, don't be ashame, is the Y/N effect" she said and he looked away to avoid blushing, because she was right.

Dasy was calmed after a while, it was hard for her to admit she was jealous of Chloe success, and he wondered if Ashley was also jealous of Y/N, or if maybe Y/N was jealous of the free life she had, trapped in broadchurch...

"She is too young for you" Dasy said after a while. "I mean, dead fiance aside, she is 34 and you 48, people would talk" he looked at her perplexed and she add with a smile "Jesus I'm messing with you, I didn't thought you actually liked her, I always asume you will get back together with Miller" she said laughing.

"She is happy with Brian, and I have no interest in Y/N she is staying here for protection, I would never do something that tremendously unprofessional" He started and then he noticed his tune was getting higher as he speak making it more obvious it was a lie.

"Fine, I will believe you, but you should tell her that tho, she is completely smitten by you, I can tell" She gave him a wink and left him alone in the kitchen, thinking about how this surreal domestic nonsense had become his new normal, starting after he interrogated Ashley.

He ask about her alibi, she was at the Deli all Friday, she got an angry text from Jonathan before picking her up at her place where she changed her clothes and went with Y/N to a nightclub at the moment he was murdered, she drove back inebriated to her house, and was too hungover to pick Y/N, the next morning so she called her brother, then she went to work and to pick Y/N at work but she wasn't there, then she drove to pick Jonathan at the airport, waited there for an hour before calling to her phone and then she was told about the incident by Katie Harford.

All of which had been corroborated by security footage and her deli patrons, but at the same time he was not sure why something felt off, he thanked her for the information and drove back to his place, it was late, around eleven, and yet his house was illuminated, she was reading a book distracted.

"Though night DI Hardy?" Y/N asked once he entered and sited on his couch. "I made dinner, don't worry the baby sitter you put down the road saw me exiting the house and escorted me to the grocery store" She said answering the question he was about to ask.

"You are not supposed to leave the house" he said after a while.

"I bought enough food to don't do it anymore" she said defensive and he was about to raise his voice when she add "I'm sorry, I just wanted to feel normal for a change, I know the situation and it won't happen again, I'm very grateful with you for letting me stay here, specially since you don't have to... I'll go to bed" She stood up and he stood up, thinking of grabbing her wrist but instead he call her.

"I can have dinner" he said and walked with him to the kitchen.

"So Ashley told you what kind of monster I am?" She asked while she start reheating the food.

"Quite the opposite actually..." he said distracted "I mean, who do you know I was meeting her?"

"Her best friend says she was attacked, and she is the only one alive to tell what happened, I imagined you'll asked her again about me" she said like it was nothing, but he could hear a little trembling on her voice with some words.

"Maybe you could start doing my job, and I could take some time off" he said and she put a cup of tea in from of him "Thank you"

"Let me guess you are wondering if she is single and you want to ask her out as soon as you get rid of me?" She had a playful smile on his eyes, unlike Ashley her compliments sounded real and sincere. "Don't give me that look you are not made of stone, even if you pretend to be, and she is insanely hot" she said and the way she lean on the table to give him his plate took him of guard, maybe in another life he thought as her face was about thirty centimeters from his. "You wouldn't be the first to end with that dumb look after meeting her" She said and sit on the table with another tea cup on her hands.

And she was right in almost everything, he wasn't made of stone, and Ashley Langford was incredibly beautiful, but the look in his eyes was all because of her.

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