#also didn’t have any concert anxiety for once let’s celebrate that

[reputayswift]

OLIVIA WAS SO AMAZING and Chappell had the best reception I’ve ever heard for an opener??? Like that’s a star

[redcrescentmoons]

Only You In The Room

Daniel Ricciardo x male!rockstar! reader

Summary: Everyone knows Daniel loves music. What they don’t know is his (slight) crush on the bassist from one of his favorite bands.

AN: Happy Daniel birthday gang! Legit celebrating this harder than my own birthday. Sorry for the lack of posts, I’ve been fighting some hardcore writers block and don’t have any original ideas, but i wanted to do smth for Daniels bday anyway. Hope you like it!

AN2: This is purely self indulgent im sorry

AN3: (after completion) lowkey thinking of turning this into a series, what do you think?

It was a well-known fact around the paddock that Daniel loved music. Scratch that; not just the paddock knew, anyone that knew anything about the driver knew about his passion.

While Daniel often put forward his love of country music, another genre he strongly appreciated, although not quite as much as country, was rock.

So when he found a small pop-punk band through social media, he immediately followed them, hooked from the first note.

Soon, he had every song committed to memory, and started mentioning them more around his friends.

Max quickly caught on to Daniel’s new find, and as he always did when the Aussie got excited about a new artist, he asked the older man to tell him about the band.

As Daniel spoke, Max quickly caught on to the fact one was being mentioned slightly more than his band mates.

"And what’s so great about that bassist, huh mate?" the Dutch questioned "What do you mean?" replied Daniel, a slightly confused look on his face. "C’mon man, you keep on talking about him. So why?"

Daniel’s face immediately grew red as he denied the accusation, and changed the subject quickly, which didn’t go unnoticed by Max.

Daniel had only known the band for a few months, but had the pleasure to have seen them grow considerably. He followed them throughout their first out-of-city gig, to their first show in another country, to their first tour. And in a weird way, he couldn’t have felt prouder of the group of boys.

As the london-based band announced their first european tour, Daniel felt overjoyed once he came upon the realization that with his race calendar, he would be in Europe at the same time as the band would.

He bought himself a ticket for their first show of the tour, in London, the very moment he realized it was a mere 2 days after Silverstone.

The Aussie couldn’t wait for Silverstone; despite passing it off as excitement for the race, it was clearly more.

By the time the race arrived, it had completely fled his mind, leaving him to focus solely on the concert.

His outfit was planned out, his ticket was ready, including the bonus one he bought for Max, and the anticipation was coursing through his veins.

He didn’t even take the time to properly enjoy Silverstone, just counting down the time until he saw the band he had loved since he first heard them.

When the day finally arrived, he felt so excited but there was just a little bit of nervousness mixed in there. He told himself it was nothing, but the Dutchman beside him had already figured out the cause of his anxiety.

The show was being held inside a small venue, also containing a bar. Daniel immediately downed an alcoholic drink in the hopes of calming himself down. Feeling it’s effect on his body already, he dragged his friend up to the front, where they managed to get to the edge of the stage.

As the opening band went on, Daniel found himself to quite enjoy them, but grew impatient by the end of their set.

When the lights came back on and the opener left, a couple stage hands walked out to switch out the stage. Daniel found himself blushing as he stared at the man setting up the bass; it was you.

As the people around him went to get drinks between the bands, the Aussie went in a trance watching you set up your bass pedals, chatting with the stagehands, oblivious to his watchful gaze.

As Daniel’s admiration for you grew at the way you refused to let someone else set your things up for you, he suddenly snapped out of it as Max waved his hand in front of his face, a small smirk hiding at the corner of the Dutchman’s lips.

Before Daniel had the time to question it, the lights dimmed once again and the band members walked out on the stage under colored lights.

As the applause roared surprisingly loud for the small crowd, Daniel found himself cheering particularly loud, and a large smile grew on his face as he made eye contact with you, noticing the slight blush that developed on your face.

You winked at him and looked away, turning to your band mate to get the show started. You leant into the singer’s microphone, yelling "Hello everybody! We’re Nervous Breakdown! This one’s called ‘Insomnia’ and we hope you love it!" You finished your tirade with your signature smile, a contagious cross between a grin and a smirk.

Daniel screamed some more, belting out the lyrics as they came.

As the night went on, Daniel found himself having the absolute time of his life. Even Max noticed how his smiley friend was even happier than usual.

In between songs, you would use your band mates microphone to joke around and speak to the audience, your high energy and excitement contagious, spreading around the crowd like wildfire. Not that Daniel needed it.

When you announced your last song of the night, Daniel found his happiness met with a sudden wave of sadness.

That sadness was, however, diminished when your lead guitarist announced you all would be outside after the show, if anyone wanted to stick around. Of course, everyone cheered, and you went on with your final song of the night.

Once you all had bowed, and waved, and walked off the stage, people started flooding out of the room, a certain amount waiting outside until you all came out.

Despite not seeing the band exit the venue, he could tell exactly when you and the boys walked out, as a loud wave of cheers erupted from the group of people.

Daniel sat patiently at the back, waiting to meet you, his ticket and a sharpie in hand, already rehearsing what he would say to you.

When the crowd started thinning, and you were finally visible, hair disheveled from jumping around, bass on your back, tired smile on your face, Daniel’s breath was taken away.

Max, feeling his companions nervousness, planted a comforting hand the on the Aussie’s shoulder, pulling him slightly closer.

"It feels weird when it’s the other way around don’t you think? Us waiting to get something signed?" Daniel chuckled at his remark, the Dutchman having succeeded in keeping his anxiety at bay.

When he finally got to you, he was the last one there. He had to admit, he admired you for staying throughout the whole group of people, knowing firsthand what that felt like, especially after a tiring concert.

When his eyes landed on you, the whole script he had prepared in his head disappeared completely.

As much as Daniel wanted to greet the band as a whole, he just couldn’t take his eyes off the young man in front of him, extending a slightly shaky arm towards you.

"Hi, I’m Daniel. Huge fan"

Part 2?

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

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

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

[uglypastels]

Slide In // Frat!Tom

(a/n) I’ve never written this au before, in like a full fic i think, so i have no idea if this is good, but i had this idea in the middle of the night and yeah. I hope you guys enjoy. this may or may not have been inspired by a certain post @duskholland made about Tom and his mirror selfies <3 how amazing that he literally just posted one today lol

word count: 16.7k

warning: drinking, mention of drug use (weed), school, social anxiety, some smexy innuendos. i made some big last minute changes, so i hope its all coherent. 

DEEPFAVE: Liking a photo (or any post) from over a year ago.

It was a cloudy morning, and it was early. Really really early. Not even the birds felt up to it, it felt like. The campus was slowly awakening or going to sleep (depending on if you had been to last night’s Delta Kappa party, of course). 

It was cold, and the leaves fell off the branches with each huff of the morning breeze. The grass was wet from the previous night’s rain, and it soaked your ankles as you ran through the small grass field, in hopes to cut a bit off the distance to your lecture hall. 

It had not been your fault that you overslept. You had gone to bed early; your backpack was already packed for the next morning. It was supposed to be a relaxing morning, perfect for easing back into it after a week of sleeping in and celebrating the holidays. How could you have expected that your roommate would barge into your dorm at 2 am, still whoo-ing her drunk ass in the corridor with other wasted idiots? 

And it wasn’t like you were against all that partying and drinking. You would have gone yourself to the frat party, but it just didn’t sit right with you. A giant house full of intoxicated strangers- the anxiety running through you just thinking about it was making you shake. 

So, instead of “living a little”, as your older brother called it, you preferred to stay in bed most evenings, either watching Netflix or reading a book. Yet, still, you had been kept awake for so long last night that you slept through your alarm. What was supposed to be a calm morning turned out to be ten minutes of rushed panic. Eventually, you had decided to skip most of your morning routine, including breakfast, brushing your hair or even putting on a decent outfit. You ran out of your dorm, clutching on to your bag, phone and keys.

Your hair was reasonably alright. It was still in the braid you had made before going to bed, but a lot of hair had fallen out during your slumber. When you looked in the mirror though, you saw that it looked decent so you let it be. Not so much could have been said for your outfit. You kept on the same shirt in which you slept in, which was a slightly oversized grey graphic tee from a random indie concert you had been to ages ago. Unfortunately, it was so cold that you couldn’t just go outside in your shorts, so had to spend a precious minute slipping into a pair of sweatpants that were actually not as bum-looking as you had feared.

Luckily, the walk (or in this situation, run) to the lecture hall was short. So, you survived with only a thick sweater over your arms. 

And so, just like that, you were running through campus. The cold air was piercing your lungs as you inhaled deeply. Each breath started with this whistling sound, as you tried to ignore that pain, and ended in an exhale of a cloud of condensation. Maybe you weren’t in the best shape, but even this horrible experience would not make you sign up for the campus gym. No way. 

You could see the lecture hall doors, the wide wooden panelling already towering over you, and you slowed down. You were trying to catch your breath and composure. As always, the doors were heavy and to add to it, the wood could not handle the temperature, so it was even harder to open them. 

“Oh, let me,” you suddenly heard behind you, almost making you jump. The voice sounded familiar, but it wouldn’t click to a particular face just yet. 

“Thanks,” you breathed out as an arm extended from behind you, clad in a leather jacket, and pushed the door open with ease. You followed the arm up with your eyes and saw how it connected to an actual person. Yes, you definitely recognised him. But what was his name again? 

T- something starting with a T. 

He smiled at you politely, nodding the gesture for you to go inside. 

“Thanks,” you said again, before finally moving. 

“No problem,” he was walking behind you but quickly caught up to your side. You saw in his hand a Starbucks coffee, which almost made your mouth water. 

“Professor Dowling’s lecture, right?” he asked, before taking a sip. Your eyes unconsciously followed the movement as the need for caffeine was growing. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” you shook your head, focusing on anything but the delicious rich smell that you could sense coming from the cup—dark roast. 

“Well, good to know I won’t be the only one late,” he chuckled. Troy? Was that his name? No. He didn’t look like a Troy. 

“We’re not that late,” you checked your phone and cursed internally, “only… nine minutes.” 

“Dowling doesn’t care if it’s nine minutes or nine hours. Late is late.” He took another sip. You had to look away before your stomach realised how empty it really was. 

“True, I guess. Well, it was nice knowing you.” You sighed as you had reached the second door leading to the lecture room. Ty raised an eyebrow. No, his name was definitely not Ty. What was it?!

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, Dowling is gonna kill us, isn’t he?” You explained, and he nodded in agreement. 

He was again the one to slowly and quietly opened the door, giving you insight into the room. You almost yelled out in excitement when you saw that the lights had been somewhat dimmed for a slideshow that the professor was giving. You have Tim (nope, not Tim) a knowing look and smile. You had been saved. Then, the two of you slipped into the room, letting the doors close themself. You saw a few people turn their heads as you walked by together, searching for a seat, but you didn’t think much of it. You would have looked too if someone dared to be late for one of Dowling’s lectures. 

Finally, you found an empty seat. Two, actually. It was in the back of the class, so you hoped that once the lights would go back on, Dowling wouldn’t immediately notice the addition of two more faces. The mystery guy, as you were too tired to think of more names and decided to give up, sat down next to you. He pulled out his laptop and turned it on, quickly putting it on the lowest setting of brightness. Just before he had opened it up, you noticed a few stickers. Between a few references from tv shows and movies, you saw the logo of Delta Kappa. You only recognised it because you had been seeing the logo on almost every notice board the last few days together with the campus-wide invitation for last night’s party. 

So he was a frat boy. 

You looked up to the side at him as you pulled out your laptop and notebook. The notebook was more for doodling than anything. But also to write down some more of the essential or just entertaining parts of the lecture, since you had come to realise that writing things down by hand helped you remember better. 

Your heart stopped beating for a second as you opened your laptop, praying that no embarrassing tabs were open or, even worse, you still had Spotify playing on full blast. But you could let yourself relax when the laptop just showed you your desktop. 

Right then, you could hear your stomach growl of hunger. 

“Here,” suddenly T, as you decided to call him for the time being, slid over his coffee to your small desk. You looked up at him in confusion. He had a cap on, so there was not much you could see in the dark shadow, but you saw his sincere smile. 

You thanked him before grabbing the cup. Since it was Starbucks, you hoped to learn his name finally. But instead, in black marker, was written “Holland”. Last name. Well, that was something.

_________________________________

“Thank you,” y/n said before grabbing the drink, taking a look at the name written on it, and taking a big sip of it, although she quickly pulled it away from her lips, her face distorted in a sour expression. 

“Sorry,” Tom apologised, “my hand had slipped when I was pouring in the sugar.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” she whispered, still a bit disgusted, but it didn’t stop her from taking another large sip. “How can you drink this stuff?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Tom grinned. 

Times weren’t exactly desperate, in his case. 

The party had been a massive success. Everyone seemed to have had a great time, and this time, not even at the cost of any of the frat house furniture. Sure, some people might have thrown up in the cooking pans, but that could be easily cleaned up by one of the pledges. 

It all ended around 2 am, which was fairly early, but it was, of course, a school night. Tom remembered to drink water before going to sleep and woke up with only a mild headache. A few painkillers solved that pretty quickly. He got up, stumbled a bit over the mess around the house and was on his way to class. 

He was sure he would have made it on time if it wasn’t for his usual appetite and need for coffee. Yes, he could have made it at home, but for some reason, the coffee from that machine always tasted like piss. And Tom did not want to find out why. So, it had almost become routine for him to stop by the Starbucks that was on the way from the house to the lecture halls. 

What he had not expected was the giant line of customers inside. More people had felt the need for coffee after a wild night of partying. He recognised some girls, still wearing the same dresses they wore to the party. A few guys who looked like they were on the verge of death were sipping their drinks in the corner of the room. The two baristas were running around behind the counter, trying to make the drinks as fast as possible. As fellow students, they knew that there were a lot of people rushing to get to class, at least. 

Tom had even looked at his phone, checking the time before he decided to step into the queue. He had majorly misjudged the time it would take the baristas to make the few drinks before it was his turn to order. In the meantime, people would walk up to him, also recognising him from the party, to tell Tom what a great time they had last night. 

Finally, he got his drink and made his way over to the second station and poured in some sugar. For that extra kick of energy, but also, secretly, because he could not stand the bitterness of coffee. Then, it was really time to leave the crowd. Tom never really minded people and was definitely what you call a “social butterfly”, but there was always a limit. And the limit on a Monday morning was minimal. Even smaller, if you are still trying to get rid of a hangover. 

He had just reached the main square of campus when he saw the big clock. He was already late, so it wouldn’t do much to run. Professor Dowling did not care for excuses or how late you were, even if it was a second. So he could as well just take his time. 

Others had different ideas apparently.

Tom watched as someone ran across the grass, clutching on to their backpack. She stopped at the same door that he was heading for, so he got to have a good look first. The first thing he saw was the back of her head. Hair made up in a braid that was falling apart. A large black sweater, probably her boyfriend’s, was covering most of her frame. 

She was trying to pull open the door that had the word PUSH on them, but Tom didn’t say anything. It was early, and by the looks of her, not that he was judging, she didn’t have a great morning. 

When they had made eye contact, he recognised her from the lectures but did not think he had ever heard her name being mentioned. Professor Dowling loved interacting with the class, no matter how large, and often called out people to answer his absurd questions. She had never put her hand up to answer. Tom was sure of it; he would have remembered her name. 

It interested him to see her pull out, not only a laptop but also a notebook. Did people even use those anymore? Even the dim light he could see the words scribbled on the cover. The decorative style did kind of make it hard to miss it. 

Property of y/f/n.

So that was her name. Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

Having already missed the first ten minutes, he tried his best to focus on the words of the professor, but some things just couldn’t go unnoticed. 

By the look y/n was giving his coffee cup, he could tell that she had not had any herself and the sound of her empty stomach as they sat next to each other only confirmed his suspicion. So, it only felt like the right thing to do to give her some. And the smile he got in return definitely made it worth it. 

His attention was entirely gone by that point, as he watched her open her notebook. It was filled with little drawings. Some were more distinct than others. There were the classic five-petal flowers and the single mysterious eye with no other entity attached to it—also a few little scratchy tornadoes and random filigree. Patches of just lines and different patterns filled up the corners and extended out to the middle of the pages. Tom also definitely recognised a few attempts at bringing back the Super S in there. 

But what also filled up the page were little characters. She must have drawn them during the lectures around Halloween because he recognised a little witch, stylised to the perfect amount of cuteness. There was also a cauldron of bats flying off to the side. 

Tom could have looked at it for much longer and still find some more doodles in there, but unfortunately, she flipped the page. This one was blank. She took out a pen and started to doodle mindlessly.

First, a straight line, to which she attached little ovals. Lightly, but the lines got darker, the more she went over it. Then she made some more lighter lines across it. It made him chuckle when he recognised what it finally was—a piece of wheat. The way she stopped drawing for a second, Tom thought that she had not realised what she was drawing either. It was just a random coincidence where a few lines suddenly could make up an existing object. Then she continued. 

From time to time she’d stop to make a note somewhere in the middle of the page, something that professor Dowling said that made her giggle. It was adorable to hear. 

“Now, this,” Tom could hear the professor say from his little podium, the two little words shook everybody in the room awake because those they were code for IMPORTANT. As Dowling kept on talking, y/n closed her notebook and pulled her laptop closer to type. Tom had to pull himself together to focus on the actual lecture.

Then the sound of her stomach pulled him out of that. That was followed by the whisper of an angry “fuck”. Tom looked over to y/n again. She was trying to type something out, but her shaking fingers kept pressing the wrong buttons. She was crumbling apart from hunger. 

Crumbling… 

Suddenly, Tom remembered. He leaned down to look in his bag, hoping it was still there. It was.

“Hey,” he nudged her side, making her look up at him once more, with caution. He grabbed the small pack of Oreos and slid them over to her desk. She looked perplexed. Then she pushed the, slightly flat-looking, cookies back to Tom. He frowned. 

“I thought I’m not supposed to be taking candy from strangers.” She whispered. Tom chuckled and pushed the pack of four cookies back to her. 

“Well, good it’s not candy then. Eat. I can tell you’re starving.”

Y/n looked at the Oreos, not sure whether to take them or not, but her stomach answered for her.  She opened her mouth, but then she closed it again and turned away. Tom understood it. It would have been the fourth time she would have said: “thank you”. By now, he got the message. As she opened the packet of cookies, Tom went back to listening to the lecture. 

_________________________________

You hesitated before taking the cookies. Were they some kind of prank? You knew how frat guys loved to pull jokes on everyone, even if they were no better than middle school hijinks or cheesy April fools clichés. But the silver packet, except that it looked a bit flat, seemed to be untouched. Most likely because of getting squashed by something in his backpack. 

You opened it and were immediately hit with the delicious whiff of chocolate. You took out one cookie and didn’t bother with the usual way of splitting it open to eat the filling first. You needed food. Now. Even if it were just four broken Oreo cookies. It was better than nothing.

Obviously, you were still hungry and in need of a proper breakfast, but the small snack helped you hold out for the rest of the lecture. 

But now that your stomach was sorted for, you had another problem concentrating. Your new, still unnamed, friend tended to type very loudly. At first, you looked over in a bit of annoyance, which made you actually notice his hands. There was nothing special about them. They were naturally just hands, but the way he moved his fingers across the keyboard… it made you look back in that general direction a few times more.

Probably because of all these distractions, the usual hour and 45 minutes felt much shorter. Before you knew it, professor Dowling was saying his goodbyes and everyone around you started packing up their things.

Needing to get some food ASAP, you packed up your things and practically ran out of the room. Only as you were nearing the cafeteria did you realise that you had never said goodbye to your snack provider. 

Shit.

_________________________________

“Hey, so I was thinking-” Tom was going to suggest grabbing a bite for breakfast together, being somewhat hungry himself, but when he looked up y/n had already packed her things and was on her way to the stairs, following the other students out the door. 

Tom sank back down into his seat. 

“Any problems, Mr Holland?” Tom’s head shot forward to see professor Dowling looking up at him. When he looked around, he saw he was the only one who had not started packing up. 

“No, everything’s alright, sir,” Tom said before getting up with his laptop. “Great lecture. Learned a lot... and stuff.” 

“Good, good,” Dowling said. His glasses were slipping off his nose slightly, so he pushed them back up with his middle finger. “I did not expect you to have heard anything, by the way you and miss y/n were chatting.”

The professor’s words made Tom’s cheek burn up as he pushed the laptop back into its place in his bag. That man saw everything.Suddenly he felt as if he was in middle school again.

“Try to not make it a habit.” 

“No, sir,” Tom said.

Dowling just nodded, meaning the conversation had ended and giving Tom permission to sprint out of the room. 

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry. Maybe he was hoping to find y/n waiting outside the doors. He didn’t even know why he wanted to see her there. He just did. He had this urge just to watch her doodle in that notebook of hers. There was something so endearing about it. 

Alas, no one was waiting for him outside that door. Or even in the proximity of it. There was no one but groups of students making their way from and to class. 

Then, Tom realised that she must have run off to the cafeteria. Still, he decided against going there. As much as he wanted to talk to y/n again, he didn’t want to come off stalkerish. Besides, they’d have another class tomorrow. He could speak to her then. 

“Ayo! Holland!” Tom looked over to a group of people he recognised to be his friends. They were gathered around one of the large windows that was open in the hallway. He waved to them before making his way over. 

“What’s up, man? You looked like a lost puppy.” Jacob said. 

“No nothing, I just zoned out a little, I guess.” Tom shook his head, clearing it off thoughts of y/n. 

“Well, we were thinking,” his best friend and fellow Delta Kappa resident, Harrison joined in on the conversation, “There is this new bar opening next week. The… something- shit, what’s it called again?” He looked over at the rest of the group. 

“The Sterling,” it was Zendaya that answered. She was sitting on the window sill with both legs in front of her, not living much space for anyone else to sit. She had something between her fingers, and Tom could not make out if it were a regular cigarette or a joint. (The smell insinuated at nicotine, so that answered for itself.) The fact that they were on campus did not make much difference to them. She took a drag and blew the smoke out, before handing it to Harrison. 

“So, Holland, you’re in?” 

“Yeah of course.” There’s nothing like the hysteria of drinking yourself sick in some new dingy place across campus. A new one would open up every few months because its predecessor would get shut down after too many accounts of selling alcohol to minors. It had almost become a game for younger students to see how quickly they can destroy a business. Tom and Harrison had been record holders for a while. Five weeks. Tom wasn’t exactly sure how anyone could tell they were the reason for The Six-Ball to close, but it didn’t matter. (“With a name like that, they deserve to shut down,” Harrison had joked before ordering two Long Island Iced Teas.)

Now that they were of the legal drinking age, of course, maybe it wasn’t as fun to go to those shitty holes in the wall, but with the right people, they made it a party every time. 

“Nice! So-” Jacob started talking about how he thought the night had to go, but Tom was already zoned out again. Between Zendaya and Harrison, he had the perfect view of the small grass field. Some people had sat down there with their friends to enjoy the midday, but most people still considered it too cold to sit outside. But what Tom was looking at was behind the grass field. It was the cafeteria doors. He saw that large sweater again. y/n walked out, holding something that looked like a sandwich. Tom smiled to himself. 

“What are you smiling about?” He got nudged in the ribs by someone. 

“Oh, you know, the uhm-” he had no idea what the rest of his friends had been talking about to include in his lie.

“I know,” Harrison said, lounging his arm across Tom’s shoulder to point in the same direction that Tom had been looking at. Tom froze up when he pointed straight at y/n with his finger. 

“Angela Pikowski.” 

“What?” It took Tom a second, but indeed, right in front of y/n, stood Angela with her own group of friends. She laughed at something, whipping her bottle bleached blonde hair across her shoulder. He understood too, how Harrison had caught her so quickly in his vision, for she had her jacket open and her shirt was pretty tight and low cut. How did that girl not catch pneumonia or some shit? 

“You ain't slick, bro.” Harrison patted him on the back. Tom, not wanting to get into it more than he needed, just grinned awkwardly. When he looked out into the square, Angela still stood there, but y/n was gone. 

_________________________________

The campus food was never that good, but it didn’t matter. The feelings of having actual food in your body felt so good that it might as well have been a five-course meal from a three-star Michelin restaurant. While, in reality, it was just a little bacon, egg and salad sub on stale bread. 

It did not matter. 

You enjoyed your breakfast as you walked down the path, back to your dorm. After that horrendous morning, and the pretty… interesting lecture, you were ready to lock yourself up in a room and do nothing but watch Netflix. And thankfully, due to having only one morning class, you could actually do it too.  

You said your polite “Hi”s and “Hello”s as you passed some other people you recognised from other classes. A bit hopefully, you were on the lookout for your (still nameless!) friend from the lecture. You really had to figure out what his name was. 

By the time you had reached your dorm building, your sandwich was gone. A part of you was still hungry, but you ignored that. You were probably just bored anyway. 

The dorm hall was basic in every way, from the carpeted grey floor to the plainly painted walls. But the inhabitants, of course, did try to give it some life. They hung up posters and banners, flags and lights. You reached the door that was decorated with a collage of different 80s glam rock artists and walked into your room. That college had been a little bonding experience with your roommate, Marie, during the very first week of Freshman year.

When you walked in, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lump on one of the beds. A groan erupted from underneath it when you switched on the light. 

“Ruuuude,” Marie yelled out. She came out from beneath the sheets. Her hair was bigger than ever, and you could see the mascara and eyeshadow stains under her eyes, and there was still some glitter on her. 

“You know, you should take off your make-up before going to sleep,” You said as you took off your sweater. 

“You know, you should put some on before leaving the house,” she said before diving back underneath her sheets. 

“Ouch,” you both laughed. But you couldn’t help but take a look in the mirror as you passed it. Maybe you could have used some concealer under your eyes, but it wasn’t that bad. Right? 

The room the two of you lived in maybe wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. You were definitely one of the luckier people in the building. Your room, after all, had just enough space for the two beds, desks and closets to mirror each other on each side of the room. You also went the extra way to put up some extra shelving on your side above the bed, since one closet was not enough. 

“Didn’t you have class this morning as well?” you asked as you sat down on. You could hear something coming from Marie that resembled an “Mhm”. Not in the talking mood, got it. 

So, in quiet, you pulled out your laptop and searched for something that did not look mind-numbingly dumb to watch, eventually settling for a show you had probably watched five times out of pure overwhelming of choice. After a while of moving around in your bed, you found a comfortable position at last and turned the show on, ready for a day of uninterrupted laziness. 

_________________________________

Tom got home a bit later than he had hoped. After making plans for the next night, his friends were determined to go out for lunch as well. What he thought would be just a quick grab-and-go, turned out to be a full two-hour lunch where they talked about anything and nothing. 

He loved the company of people, but not on Mondays. Mondays were his day to do nothing except for going to class, and Tom felt like he had already done too much. 

When he did get back, people were still busy cleaning the aftermath of the party. It had gone a bit wilder than Tom remembered. Some jackass had decided to spray paint one of the upstairs hallways, and the colour was not easy to get off. Luckily, it had become almost a custom for all the house members to lock their doors during a party. For privacy sake firstly, but like anything at Delta Kappa, it turned a bit into a game. 

The first two unlock their door, either if the person was too tired to stay at the party or wanted to bring a guest into their room, was obliged to do something horrible. It was up to the rest of the house to decide what. Fortunately for Tom, he had not been the first to unlock his door that night. That luck fell on poor Billy.

Even if it came to be so, the rule didn’t make sense because no one could check who the first one was to open their door and even if- it was not an official Delta Kappa rule. That meant that, even if the person got caught to be the first, they could simply deny the dare. They would be known as Head Chicken, of course, but there were worse things in life. 

Tom moved up the stairs, saying hi to a few of his roommates, feeling very lucky as one of the senior members of the house, he did not have cleaning duty. Most of that was up to the pledges anyway. 

He remembered when he had to do all those tasks and shit to get into the house. It was so stupid; he didn’t even understand why he chose to be in a fraternity, in the first place. 

He did think the other guys had gone a bit softer on himself and Harrison since at the beginning of it all, they had been chosen by the sorority of Alpha Zeta Zeta as the favourites. Still, some unspeakable things had been done that year. 

But now that he lived in a giant house with some of his best friends, it all felt like it was a bit worth it. He had a great time at Delta Kappa. 

One of the best pros, by far, was that he had his own bedroom. Spacious for everything he needed plus a bit more. A large, unmade, bed waited for him when he opened the door. That, and the happy barks of Tessa. 

“Hello, darling,” he bent down to pet her as she jumped to his knees. Tessa was the official mascot of the fraternity, but she had very early on found a great liking to Tom. It only took her a few days to get settled in his room, and from then on, she wouldn’t sleep anywhere else. 

Tom moved up to his bed, and Tessa gladly joined him. She patted down a circle before lying down with her head on his chest, letting out a satisfied huff of air. Even if he wasn’t comfortable, Tom had no way out anymore. He was stuck. With nothing else to do, he took out his phone and went through his notifications.

Some texts from Harrison and Jacob, a missed call from that girl he made the mistake of giving her his number. People were getting Wi-fi again because he got at least twenty different Snapchat pictures and videos from the party. 

What else there was plenty of, were Instagram mentions and tags. He went through the photos, smiling. It really had been a great party. Then, something popped up in his mind. 

Property of: y/f/n 

y/f/n

Could it be that easy? He could just search for her and hope to find her account. He typed it in. Her first name was already enough to get plenty of results. As always the profile pictures were too small to really make out a true identity, so he made his way through the accounts. 

He only needed three tries, though. The picture already resembled her, so with hope, he clicked on the account. 

This account is private. Follow this account to see their photos and videos. 

Tom sighed. Not so easy after all. Then he saw the bio. It was a bit vague, just a few random emojis. But what interested him was the Followed by and the fifteen mutual followers that she had. It couldn’t be anyone else. 

For some unknown reason, his heart was beating in his throat as he clicked on the blue Follow button and watched it turn grey. Now it was just a matter of waiting until his request got accepted. Or maybe denied. Who knows. 

_________________________________

Watching a show for the fifth time got a bit boring. You could still laugh at the jokes, but at the same time, you could also almost flawlessly quote it as the scene went along. So, a few episodes in you took out your phone and started scrolling through various app feeds.

Marie had fallen back to sleep since you could hear her snore in her bed. And you were falling asleep slowly too. It was so warm in your room, and your bed was so soft and comfortable. Your eyes were getting heavier by the second. 

Then a notification popped up, brightening up the screen in your hand. Half-awake, you tried to read it. 

(your account): Tom Holland (@tomholland2013) has requested to follow you. 

Tom? Your mind took a moment to process. Then the face finally clicked to the name. Tom! His name was Tom! 

Without much further thought you accepted the request and before you even put your phone down, you fell asleep. 

_________________________________

Not to sound desperate, Tom waited for a good half hour before rechecking his phone. He clicked on the Instagram app and the search icon. Her account was still the last one from the recent searches he made. Tom clicked on the account and, to his unexplained surprise, he was greeted with a gallery of pictures. 

He had noticed earlier that the count on top of the page said 53 Posts. Interested, he clicked on the first one. It was a picture of a coffee cup. It wasn’t tagged, but Tom recognised it to be from that café Le Moulin. He saw the distinctive black windmill on the napkin that could not be missed. 

He scrolled down. 

It was a selfie from last summer. The filter slightly enhanced her bright smile on the picture, but Tom could tell it was more to show off the warm atmosphere of her holiday destination. The next photo was from the same holiday, he assumed, of her and a group of friends. He recognised the girls from campus. When he tapped the picture for the tags, he saw their names. @tiffani.btx @bonne_marie @lucywithnodiamonds 

He thought to have spotted that Marie chick at the party. She was French if he remembered correctly. She was definitely a wild one. Might have even grinded up against him during one of the better songs that were played. 

There were some more selfies, solo and with friends, sunsets and landscapes. The picture quality got worse as he scrolled down. It matched with the timeline. People should not be keeping up their pictures from seven years ago, especially not with all those fucked up filters they used back then. Tom was, of course, one of those people. 

He scrolled to the last picture; it was of a dog—one of the cutest little labrador puppies. 

Out of nowhere, Tessa barked in her sleep, making Tom jump up. This sudden movement, in its turn, woke the dog up completely. Tessa kept barking. 

“Right, I think it’s time for a walk, what do you think?” He patted Tessa on the head as she tried to lick his arm. Tom got up and was about to leave his room when he realised he almost forgot his phone. The screen hadn’t turned off yet, so he looked at the puppy again. But something was off this time. Something had changed. 

The little blank heart under the image- it was now pink. 

He accidentally liked her oldest picture. 

_________________________________

There were two types of naps. Those that made you feel amazing and refreshed by the time you got up. And those that made you feel like you had fallen asleep on a bed of rocks. You felt even worse than before when you woke up. Your head was throbbing, and your bra had pushed itself into every possible part of your chest, making it that much more uncomfortable. 

“What time is it?” you asked Marie, but she was still asleep. 

The light of your phone almost blinded you, so you quickly put down the brightness. It was around four o’clock. Meaning you had slept for a good three hours. 

Besides the time, you checked your notifications. There were not a lot of them. A few spam emails, a few texts in a group chat you never responded too and… a like on Instagram? 

tomholland2013 liked your photo. 1 h 

You had to think back to the moment before your nap to remember that he had in fact requested to follow you. And you had accepted it. 

You clicked on the notification, and it sent you to the liked picture. To your surprise, it was the picture of your family dog, Spot. Your family had picked the name even though he was a completely yellow labrador, loving the irony. 

It was your first-ever picture, from over seven years ago. Had he been stalking your account? Why the fuck would he do that? 

Well, you thought, it was only fair if I do it too. So, through the like, you made your way over to his account. 

First thing you noticed was the number of followers he had. 15.7k How the fuck do people even get those numbers? Well, it’s easier if you’re a hot frat guy, of course. 

His profile picture was a mirror selfie, and clearly, it was his favourite composition, for at least five out of the first nine pictures in the gallery were the same style. All full-body reflections, with him holding the phone in his right hand, leaning his head a bit to look at the screen as he took the picture. His lips weren’t exactly in a smirk, but there was that cockiness in there. He really was feeling it, that was obvious. 

The first picture was a classic mirror pose- A black jacket and a black hat: the same outfit he had been wearing in class. You looked at the timestamp and saw that he only posted it an hour ago. Already it had dozens of comments and a low thousand amount of likes.

You scrolled down. A denim jacket and beanie in the mirror; a grey t-shirt and sweats in the mirror; a black suit in the mirror, the list could go on. There were other pictures, mostly from the frat house parties and other events where alcohol played a significant role. There were also the occasional front camera selfies. 

You couldn’t help but look at those a little bit longer. There was something about that small tight smile that he made that was so cute. In one of the more saturated pictures, with a deeper shadow, you noticed that his nose actually had a little bump in it, most likely from breaking it in the past. 

But just from likes alone, you could tell that the mirror was a public favourite. 

There was something about the confidence that the pictures portrayed that spoke to you.. He knew he looked good, and no one could deny it. Except, he looked so much better than good. 

It was interesting to be scrolling down his posts because it was like a trip back in time. At first, it didn’t wasn’t that obvious, just maybe a change in temperature during the year that was referenced through his clothing. Then it showed a bit more as his hair started to get shorter by each picture taken. It got shorter and shorter until his hair was not much more than a buzz. The reason for the drastic hair change was explained in the next picture. 

You had already scrolled down four years worth of pictures, and this one was of him (taken by someone else). Tom was standing in a victory stance on a grass field, which you recognised to be the campus square. He was only wearing boxer shorts and on his chest was painted, in bright blue paint, 𝜟K. Underneath the post, read the caption: Delta Kappa babyyy! with a bunch of other hashtags. One that was included was #deltakappapledge #initiated. Of course, it was during his pledge period. 

You kind of hoped that he had to do more than just shave off his hair because he didn’t even look half that bad. It even suited him actually. Hoping to find some more evidence of that embarrassing period, you scrolled on. 

The sound that came out of your mouth as you scrolled to the next picture was inhumane. Keeping to tradition, it was a mirror selfie. Behind him seemed to be some workout equipment, possibly from the campus gym, but no one would look at that. Everyone would be too focused on what was in the foreground. 

It was Tom standing in front of a mirror, chest glistening with sweat as his hair draped in front of his eyes. Instead of the usual pose, he stood sideways, showing off not only his flexed bicep as he took the picture, but also the outline of all his other muscles.

Completely forgetting what you were doing, you double-tapped the post. How could you not? Only a second later, did your monkey brain realise what you had done. You had made that exact same mistake as Tom. Except while he had liked a picture of a cute dog, you had made your mark on a shirtless selfie.

As the pure humiliation flooded over you, you threw your phone to the other end of the bed with a squeak. 

What’s done was done. 

_________________________________

Tom came back from the walk with Tessa after an hour. They both enjoyed a long walk around the park neighbouring the campus, just to then pretend like they were too exhausted and lay in bed the rest of the day. Well, Tom pretended. Tessa seemed legitimately tired. 

They went back to their position on the bed. Not sure what else to do, Tom got back to Instagram. There was no reaction to his accidental like yet. Not even a follow back from y/n. A bit rude but okay, maybe she hadn’t seen it yet? 

He shook his head. He didn’t like this weird side of him. Where had it even come from? Since when did he wait for anyone to respond to him? And they weren’t even having a conversation! 

Having nothing else to do, he searched through his phone gallery for a good picture to post. He chose one he had taken during lunch, on his way from the bathroom. It was still crazy that his friends wanted to go to a place where you needed to take an elevator to go to the toilet. 

He didn’t care for editing, so he went through the usual Instagram process of making a post, thought of some dumb caption and send it out into the internet. Soon enough, as if they had a notification on for his activities, the likes streamed in.  For the first few minutes, he tried to look through them, again hoping that y/n would be one of the likes or the heart eyes emojis in the comments, but quickly it became too much, and Tom couldn’t keep up. He still enjoyed reading the comments.

Of course, it was all one big ego boost. The praise and compliments, even if it was for something as shallow as his looks, definitely gave him a good kick of dopamine and all those other happy chemicals during the day. 

Tessa was snoring and drooling on his belly as Tom went through his timeline and explore page. There was not much exciting happening in peoples’ lives, but it made the time flow by faster. An hour had gone by probably when he decided to recheck his activities. His new picture already had a few thousand likes and was close to reaching a hundred comments.  He went through some of them and either liked them or responded with a matching emoji. 

But as he scrolled through the activity, he saw a like that was to a different picture. A rather old one too, just from the beginning of college. And who might have liked this picture? y/n 

She liked a workout selfie, huh?

With the confidence that the like gave him, Tom clicked on her account and the message button. He thought about what to send for a moment but decided against overthinking it and went with a simple- 

_________________________________

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Hi 

You looked at the notification for a while. He definitely saw you had liked his old picture. Was he going to make fun of you? Tease you how you had outed yourself for thirsting over him? 

But maybe he just wants to talk? You tried to sound optimistic to yourself. After all, he did like an old picture of yours too. You were kind of in the same boat.   

Putting all worries aside, you clicked on that damn nerve-wracking notification, and without much more thought send out the reply. 

(y/n)

Hey :) 

Before you could even send out the smiley, the message rose to reveal “SEEN” beneath it. Was this happening? Was it? You could see he was typing. 

(tomholland2013)

After stalking me you could have at least followed me back lol 

(y/n)

Right sorry just a lot of mirror selfies. Thought i’d seen everything there is to see 😂

(tomholland2013)

Rude Seen anything you like though? ;)

Uhhh, of course, you have. You liked it. A lot. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. 

(y/n) 

No not really 

Quickly change the subject. 

So what are you up to? 

Good enough subject? 

(tomholland2013) 

Just lying in bed with Tess

Tess? Who was Tess? Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, he would have posted something on his Instagram, right? That’s what couples did? Unless it was just a one time fling. You couldn’t even call it a one-night stand since it wasn’t even night. 

Wait, why did you even care about that? You had literally only said hello to each other and shared a coffee during class. 

But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

(y/n) 

Tess? 

(tomholland2013)

Yeah, she’s falling asleep on my chest. Kinda tired her out lol

You looked at the text, unsure how to respond, or even if to do it. Was he telling you about his hookup?  It didn’t sound like the nice guy you had met in front of the lecture hall, and that gave you his leftover coffee and Oreos. Your face wrenched into a grimace, not sure anymore what to make of this conversation or of what had happened during class.

He was typing again. 

Wanna see? 

Jesus Christ, this was a mistake. You didn’t respond, but he still sent you a picture anyway. It was a timer, unfortunately, meaning you had to click on it to see what he had sent. But he could see you got the message and that you were online. The longer you took, the more prominent you would make it that something was wrong, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He had given you his coffee. 

The curiosity got the better of you once again, though, and you clicked on the little bomb. What popped up was almost what you expected- but at the same time, so not. Before your brain properly processed what you were looking at, you were scared that he had sent you an unsolicited dick pic, but it was the furthest thing from that. 

What you saw was a POV shot of his chest and legs. He was indeed lying on his bed. On his chest, however, was the head of a grey silver dog. “Tess” had her eyes closed peacefully as she slept on. 

Of course, it was a dog. 

You decided to be honest. For the benefit of the conversation, if anything. 

(y/n) 

Omg 💀 

(tomholland2013)

We just came back from a long walk, so she’s pretty knackered  What?  Did you think I meant something else? 

Embarrassment kicked in anyway. 

(y/n) 

No... lol 

(tomholland2013)

You sooo did lmao Jealous much ;)

(y/n) 

Of the dog maybe

(tomholland2013) 

Cause she gets to be here with me? 

(y/n)

No I meant it like  She’s so cute  I want one

(tomholland2013)

Relax  I was just messing with you  But if you ever wanna come over

(y/n) 

Maybe another time 

The response came out in a panic. Had he invited you for what you thought he did? No, there was no way he did. Besides, you couldn’t go to his house. You barely knew the guy- your mind kept on whirring about it. But the conversation continued.

Soon the sun had gone down, and it got dark outside, but the messages kept coming in. At one point Marie finally woke up from her hangover slumber. Drowsily she got up and headed for the shower with a towel and toiletries bag in her hand. Before she left, though. She asked you if you could prepare something to eat for dinner since she was starving. You being you, agreed.

(y/n)

Hey, I think I gotta go for a bit. Gotta make dinner for my roommate

(tomholland2013) 

What’s on the menu? 

(y/n) 

Probably spicy ramen? 

(tomholland2013) 

Damn. sounds good But can’t she make it herself? 

_________________________________

A part of Tom wanted to send another message. I want to keep talking to you. But that felt like a bit much. She was typing again anyway. 

(y/n) 

Because she’s still hungover from your party lol Thank for that btw 

(tomholland2013) 

You make it sound like i am personally responsible 

(y/n) 

Well your the only guy from DK i know so  you’re**  💀fml. There go my chances of an english degree 

(tomholland2013) 

Nah babe YOU’RE good ;)

 _________________________________

Your heart fluttered at the little word, for no reason. It was just a text message. He probably called every girl he texted that. Still, the sentiment was there. Also that winky face of his. Could he stop? 

He started to type again. 

(tomholland2013) 

But if you ever wanna meet the other guys, you really are welcome to come over. 

(y/n) 

I’m good thanks. 

Going to a frat house alone? You felt like that could easily be the start of your personal horror movie. It would absolutely crash at the box office, but that didn’t matter. And it was the second time he invited you to come over. If it was a hint, it wasn’t a subtle one. It didn’t stop you from doubting it.

(tomholland2013)

No need to be scared. They’re pretty chill dudes. 

It was cute how he could read your mind because you were undoubtedly scared, but what he probably did not think was that you weren’t interested in meeting any other frat guy because there was only one on your mind at the moment. 

(y/n) 

Maybe another time  ttyl? 

You had sent the last message in the hopes that he had as much fun talking to you as you did with him. You watched eagerly as the three dots danced around on the screen while he typed out his answer. 

(tomholland2013)

 Absolutely

_________________________________

Tom turned his phone off with a smile covering his face. He had just spent talking a good two hours to y/n, and he had to admit, he hadn’t had that pleasant of a conversation with anyone in a long time. It was just so easy to talk to her. It might be partly because it was only texts. But still, she was funny, sweet, and so pretty...

Unbeknown to himself, he was falling a little bit for y/n. Although, maybe he did feel it coming. The idea of getting another text from her made his face heat up. The idea of seeing her in class the next day almost made him… giddy. And it’s only been a day. 

“Hey, man,” there came a knock on his door. “Better hide anything that would make it awkward between us cause I’m coming inside in 3-2-1-” 

“‘S all good,” Tom said right as Harrison walked through the door. 

“We’re gonna order pizza, what do you want?”

“Just the usual, I guess,’ Tom shrugged. Honestly, he didn’t really feel like eating pizza but to be the only one that wasn’t having any wasn’t a good strategy either. 

“Alright, then.” As quickly as he walked in, Harrison was also leaving the room. But he peeked his head through the door once more before actually walking away. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re good?” Harrison looked at him through narrow eyes.

“Yeah,” Tom answered as he prodded himself to sit up. “Why?” 

“I don’t know… Nevermind.” And with that, Harrison left to share Tom’s order. 

It was a rare occasion that all the house members would be at home on a night that wasn’t reserved for a party. That night, when it came to dinner, it was around 8 of them. Everyone was already sitting on the couches when Tom came downstairs to grab his pizza. He grabbed a chair and his box and sat down. A football game was playing on tv, and it made Tom roll his eyes. He still had no real idea of how football was supposed to work. He always preferred golf or basketball, or even baseball. 

The guys cheered at a touchdown or whatever but all Tom could focus on was his phone. He kept checking if there were any notifications from y/n. So far, there was nothing. She was probably busy, he told himself, not wanting to feel too disappointed. 

 _________________________________

“So who were you texting back then?” Marie said as she slurped on her noodles. You were playing around with your own portion a bit, not really in the eating mindset.

“Huh? No one.” you shook your head.  

“So it is someone. C’mon. Who is it?” She extended her leg to poke yours. She kept going until you finally gave in. 

“Just this guy from Dowling’s class.” you finally took a bite of ramen. 

“Aaand does this guy have a name?” Marie kept on asking. 

You looked up from your cup of noodles. “Tom… Holland.” 

Marie gasped, almost dropping her food onto her lap. “Tom Holland? As in Delta Kappa Tom Holland?’ you nodded your head yes. “No fucking way.” 

“What?” Not the most nuanced reaction, but it would do. 

“No way you have a crush on Tom fucking Holland.” You always noticed that when Marie cursed her French accent would show up again. Just the slightest bit. This time, however, what you stayed on was her statement. 

“I do not!” you said as your cheeks were heating up. 

“Ohhh, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said ‘nobody’. Everybody knows that ‘nobody’ is code for either crush, boyfriend, or drug dealer. And I think we can exclude the last option.” you were going to protest, but you would have only been fooling yourself. 

“So, hypothetically, let’s say I do have a crush on him. Why did you scream out ‘No way’?” You bit your lip, a bit scared for an answer. 

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Marie put down her ramen on her desk and came to sit down next to you on your bed. “I didn’t mean that you, like, don’t have a chance with him. Please, if anything, you’re too good for him.’ you both chuckled. “I just didn’t think he’d be your type.” 

“What, hot?” You raised an eyebrow to which she slapped your shoulder. 

“You’re being difficult. I mean, so… out there. You know, he’s basically the leader of that frat house, he always parties, always has stuff to go to. And you’re… well, pretty much the exact opposite. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Completely not. I just don’t want you to put yourself in any positions that you’re uncomfortable with to impress him or anything. Remember, you are too good for him.” 

“Thanks.” you hugged her from the side. “But don’t you think that it would be good for me to go out once in a while? Out of my comfort zone?”

“Sure, if you’re actually doing it for you. Not some guy.” 

“He is really nice, you know.” you smiled, remembering what had happened that morning. You went on telling Marie about it. 

“Oh, so he’s got a crush on you too, huh? That works out perfectly. ” She finally said when you were done telling your story. You looked at her with wide eyes. 

“What? Noooo,” you said, letting an awkward laugh escape through the no. 

“Fine, whatever,” Marie moved back to her own bed and grabbed her cup of ramen. “But I bet you that if you check your phone now, you’ll have at least one message from him.” 

You rolled your eyes again but grabbed your phone either way. And, fair enough, you had two notifications from ten minutes ago. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Heyy

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: I hope the ramens good

Holding in your smile, and ignoring the smart ass comments of Marie, you replied quickly. 

(y/n)

It was :)

_________________________________ 

The speed at which Tom checked his phone when he felt the vibration in his pocket could have caused someone severe whiplash. He responded to the text and got up. Ultimately, he had hoped that he could slip out the room unnoticed, but he never got what he wanted, did he? 

“Where are you going?” It was Dave that saw him get up. Tom stopped in his tracks like a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Just up to my room. Feelin’ a bit tired.’ He explained. This answer received several strange and confused looks, but Tom ignored those and just walked upstairs without saying another word. He plopped down onto his bed. Tessa was still downstairs under the table chewing on some pizza crusts, so he was finally alone. 

The texting continued through the whole night, and Tom had wholly lost the sense of time. He didn’t even feel tired. If it wasn’t for y/n saying that she was about to fall asleep, he wouldn’t at least. Like that, the windshield crashed, and he felt the fatigue from the hours of messaging and staring at a screen overwhelm him. He just about managed to send out goodnight before his eyelids were too heavy to open up again. 

_________________________________

The next morning you woke up feeling much better than either time the day before. Fresh and energised, with plenty of time to get ready before class started. Not that you really put much effort into how you looked for the morning lectures. It was more mental preparation. With enough time to eat breakfast, shower and brush your teeth, you felt excellent walking out the door. Dressed in a sweater that was warmer than two jackets and some loose jeans. With your bag over your shoulder. 

You always thought the walk from your dorm to the lecture halls was delightful. The path leading toward it was enveloped in a tunnel of trees, and during the end of the year, when the leaves were turning into their auburn and golden shades, it almost felt warmer than in summer. Because the harsh wind still kept up with its schedule. It blew in your face as you walked, rubbing against your cheeks. 

When you got there, the lecture hall was still relatively empty. Only a few other people had taken their seats. This was the crucial moment of choosing your seat. Against all your own instincts, you walked down to the bottom of the auditorium, into the fourth row. You had never sat that closer to professor Dowling’s podium, too scared you would be too easy to notice and called to answer a question. But something in you told you to be brave. 

Besides, you had the idea that Tom wasn’t eager to sit there either.

As much as those butterflies in your stomach fluttered at his mention, you didn’t want to talk to him now, not during class. You needed to pass this class badly and to do that, you needed to focus. Something you could not do with him sitting next to you. 

That’s what you told yourself. It was, of course, true, but the bigger problem was that you were scared. Tom sounded like a nice guy, a very good looking nice guy, but Marie’s words played in your head. He was from a completely different world. And it was a scary one. Why not keep a bit of a safe distance at first?

So, you kept your head buried in your notebook as people started to stream into the room. One by one, the seats around you were getting occupied—none of them by Tom, for better or for worse. 

_________________________________

It had taken Tom a while to find y/n. He walked into the room, thinking he had come in with plenty of time to spare, but as he was making his way down the steps, the professor was already making his way to the podium. Tom tried to look around the room as quickly as he could, but he could not see her. Where was she? 

Professor Dowling coughed loudly, indicating for everyone to shut up and sit down, so he could start the lecture. Tom took the first empty seat he saw. An aisle seat somewhere around the 8th row. The course started, but Tom’s eyes stayed on the seats, looking for that braid. 

It wasn’t a brilliant plan, because he had no idea if she had actually kept that braid in for another day. And she had not, in fact. He noticed her, sitting somewhere at the bottom of the class, as she grabbed her hair and was pulling it up into a bun. She did it so quickly, so smoothly, without ever letting her attention get away from her. Focused on the class. He could really learn something from her. 

And he tried to take a page from her book as he finally looked ahead of him to see Dowling write an entire essay on the blackboard. He cursed himself and quickly started to type everything over. His fingers went in fully automatic mode, and he had no more idea what the words he was typing actually meant. 

His mind had wandered off once again. He couldn’t stop feeling that disappointing pull at his heartstrings. He had hoped they could have had a repeat of yesterday. She apparently thought differently. Or maybe she had hoped he would sit next to her, but he was just too slow? 

The lecture went on forever, felt like. Tom’s fingers were cramping up from typing so much, and he could feel his back beginning to hurt in the uncomfortable chair. He kept stealing quick glances at y/n, hoping to catch her in doing the same, but she had not moved once. 

He had to get a grip. They had known each other for one day, spoken maybe ten sentences to each other in person. The rest was all through text. And nothing was the same via messages. Maybe all his feelings were coming from the entirely wrong place? Perhaps she was just polite, and he had misinterpreted it for casual flirting? Besides, there was that sweater of hers yesterday- what if she had a boyfriend? 

But a part of him still wanted to ignore all those signs and go for it. So, when the bell rang, and professor Dowling finally dismissed the class, Tom made sure he was one of the first ones outside. The large hall had two exits, so he stood against a wall, somewhere in the middle between both doors, hoping to catch y/n as she was walking out. 

The loud rumbling of thunder caught his attention momentarily. 

It was just a second, he swore to himself. But the second was enough to miss her. Somehow she had escaped him, nowhere to be found.

_________________________________

You had seen Tom waiting out in front of the room, and you felt horrible for walking the exact opposite direction. For the sake of your own feelings, you didn’t look back at any point on your way to your second lecture. 

As Professor Phillips spoke, you felt your phone vibrate. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: where are you? :) 

The little smiley made heat up in the cheeks, but you tried to ignore that as you typed out a response. You didn’t even click the notification to go to the app, just responded through the shortcut. 

(y/n): had another class

Another notification popped up not long after. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: wanna meet up later? 

(y/n): ngl I don’t feel well, will probably head back home right after

(y/n): but i’d love to chat

You shut off your phone, too scared to see the reply. Maybe it wasn’t the best move since you could not think about anything else for the remainder of the class. When you checked your phone again on your way back to the dorms your heart was lifted. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: of course. hope you feel better <3

_________________________________

Tom tried to think that she wasn’t avoiding him. After all, they texted almost every possible second that they had the time for the past week

They had talked about pretty much anything and everything. And it felt great. The way they spoke to each other, or at least Tom to her, was as if they had known each other for ages. 

Tom only wished he could do that with her from across a table, or a on a bench. Where ever, he didn’t care. He wanted to be able to look into her eyes as they talked and see her smile. Hear that lol and not just imagine it. 

Unfortunately, y/n was kind of giving him the cold shoulder in the real life. She ignored him during classes, and was gone before he could get the chance to talk to her. Whenever he asked if they could meet, she’d give him some reason she couldn’t. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had actually already met in real life, he had vary valid reasons to think he was being catfished. 

Another reason could have been that she sounded too perfect.

It was the next Tuesday already, and Tom was waiting eagerly for the lecture to end. It had been a full week and he had decided, while copying some of Dowling’s notes, that he would talk to y/n today. After class. 

Tomorrow would be the opening of the Sterling and he wanted to ask her if she wanted to come.Or at least to know if she wanted to hang out ever. If the truth came to be no, he would be fine with that. He respected that. He just needed to know. It wouldn’t take away from the fact how great it was to have someone to talk to, even if it was only through text bubbles.

The bell rang and Tom sprinted out. He kept his eyes on both doors as best as possible and finally saw her. 

_________________________________

“Hey, y/n!” you heard your name being called from behind you. It was from Tom. He waved to you so would come over. Taking a deep breath, you decided to wave back, but your legs were frozen in place.

You felt absolutely terrible for ignoring him and denying his various invitations to hang out or to go anywhere, but it was just too terrifying. You were scared of fucking it up. Of it to turn out to be one big joke. You had heard of frat guys using dates and hookups as dares and shit. You didn’t want that. You couldn’t let that happen.

But when you saw Tom smile at you, those worries suddenly disappeared and your legs moved without connecting to your brain. Suddenly, you found your spot next to him.

He had been leaning against the wall with one foot, his arms crossed. You decided to lean against it with your shoulder. Even though you had your sweater, you could feel the grizzly texture of the bare red brick. He smiled and mirrored your movement, so you were only a few inches apart. ,

“Hey,” he said, still with the smile on his face. 

“Hey,” you replied. 

Tom uncrossed his arms to brush his fingers through his hair. As you watched him do so, you couldn’t help imagine how it would feel to play with his hair. It looked so soft. 

“I just wanted to say,” he licked his lips. You were so close to each other that you could see how pink and chapped they were. Focus. “How much fun I had the past week. It’s bee really great talking to you.” 

“I had fun too,” you said. It really was nice talking to Tom. Especially now, standing so close to him, you could smell the coffee he had consumed that morning. Was it pumpkin spice? You felt stupid for not letting it happen sooner.

“Great, that’s- that’s really great to hear. I said great already, didn’t I?” He laughed, shaking his head, “Anyway, I was thinking: a couple of friends of mine are going to the opening of this new bar, the Sterling, it’s probably going to be a bit boring, but I thought, maybe you’d like to come? With me?” He looked at you with those big brown eyes. Your mind started racing a million miles an hour at his words. The fuzzy warm feeling that you got from looking at his smile was dispersing and setting in for anxiety.

He wanted you to go to a bar with him and his friends? Would that be considered a date? For the sake of your dignity, you decided against asking for clarification. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t go to some dingy bar with strangers, even if one of them was Tom. You could already feel your body heating up in anxiety as all the horrible scenarios played out in your head. 

You realised you had been quiet for a while and Tom was still looking at you hopefully. 

“No,” you blurted out. “I mean, I can’t. Sorry.” 

“Oh, that’s fine. Totally. Maybe another time? Or if you don’t wanna go there, we could go somewhere else?” 

“Uhh,” you couldn’t breath. All his suggestions were so sweet, but it felt too overwhelming to answer. Thankfully, the clock tower at the other end of campus rang and indicated the quarter of an hour. Your next class would soon start, and it was about a five-minute walk to get to. 

“I have to go.” you pointed back and started walking, but Tom grabbed your hand gently, just enough by your fingertips. 

“Sorry, I just- if you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s totally fine. You don’t have to pretend to like me, no hurt feelings. I don’t want you to-” 

“I do, Tom,” you told him with a compassionate smile. Then you looked back at the clock. “But I really got to go.” 

“Right, sorry.” he let go of your hand, and you ran off to your next course. 

 _________________________________

“Who was that?” 

As soon as y/n ran off, Tom heard the voice coming from next to him. Zendaya popped up out of nowhere, an unlit cigarette hanging between her lips as she leaned in the same spot y/n had. 

“Just a friend,” Tom shrugged. That’s what they were, after all. If even. He hoped he could describe someone he had mainly only spoken through texts with as a friend. 

“You sure about that?” Zendaya smirked. “Cause by the looks of it, she’s got you pretty hooked. You were basically begging her to go out with you, bro.” 

“Yeah, well, forcefulness isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac, is it?” he sighed then almost turned pale at the words he had said. Zendaya didn’t say anything, just nodded and took out her glittery lighter. 

“Could you not?” Tom pulled the cigarette out of her mouth before she could light it and put it in his pocket. “We’re inside, for fucks sake.” 

“Fine, but tell me who this friend of yours is.” She nodded her head back into the direction that y/n ran in. 

“I don’t really know. I mean I do, but- Basically we met last week before class. Then I found her on Instagram and DM’d her-” 

“You slid into her DMs? Bro,” she laughed. 

“Call it what you want, it was the only way of reaching her I had.” 

“Fine, so you like her, yeah?” 

“I guess.” Tom didn’t like sharing his feelings. It put him in this vulnerable position that he was not used to. Zendaya knew that, yet still she pushed him to do it almost every time they talked. 

“For what it’s worth, I think she likes you too,” she said. 

“How so?” he questioned hesitantly. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Zendaya had pulled that trick on him to date someone. And it had not ended well. 

“Well, body language for one, she felt comfortable enough around you to stand close to you, facing you; she smiled at your rants which, props to her, is hard to do.” 

“How long had you been watching us, exactly?” Tom asked a bit freaked out. Zendaya ignored the question.

“Believe me, she likes you. She’s just scared.” she pulled out another cigarette from her pocket, “also, taking a girl to a shithole like the Sterling for your first date? I’m glad she said no. Set some standards, man.” And with that lovely comment, she walked away. She didn’t have to see Tom flipping her off, she knew he would do it, and she replied lovingly in the same way. 

That’s what you got for being friends with psychology majors. 

 _________________________________

The first thing you did after walking out of your second class was to check your phone if you had received any messages from Tom. There was nothing. So you decided to message him yourself. 

(your account) 

Hey  Sorry I ran away like that  And basically anytime after class and making those dumb excuses not to meet up Just so you know I do really wanna hang out with you I’m just not really great with crowds or with places like bars and stuff And ive also never really been asked to go anywhere with anyone, like personally  Idk why im telling you this. I’m definitely rambling Texting is definitely easier than talking huh Sorry for all this 

It took Tom two minutes to see your messages and to respond.

(tomholland2013)

It’s totally okay. I get it And sorry if i made you uncomfortable with all that.  Can i come to your place tonight? Or how about we go to Le Moulin?

Le Moulin. You had been there before. You could do that. With trembling fingers of excitement, you replied

(your account) 

Deal. Around 7?

(tomholland2013)

Sounds perfect. See u then 

 _________________________________

Tommo: Hey guys, sorry but im gonna have to skip on tonight 

This short message was seen and very much not appreciated by his friends. None of the replies could be seen as appropriate for day-time television. Except for the one Zendaya had sent him through their personal chat. It was simple, 

Z: 👍

With the entire afternoon off, Tom made sure he looked somewhat decent for the night. He took a shower. Washed his hair and made sure it was extra soft. He wasn’t sure what y/n thought of it, but from past experiences, he knew that usually, girls loved his hair. Thinking about other girls was probably not the best mindset, though. Still, his hair did look really good. He brushed his fingers through it. 

It had not yet stopped raining, which was a bit of a problem, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind getting a bit wet. For the sake of it, he took an umbrella with him. Luckily it wasn’t very windy, so it actually came to good use. The walk from the frat house to the dorm that y/n said she lived in wasn’t too far away, and fortunately on the way to the place he had in mind to take her to. 

On his way over, he thought about what Zendaya had told him. 

Was y/n scared? Of what? 

They had talked about that kind of stuff briefly, during the weekend, and she and said that she suffered from anxiety. Tom just thought it was stuff like giving a presentation in class. He hadn’t even thought about the more social aspect of it. And here he was pushing all those things at her like going to some bar with strangers. Jesus, why did he have to be such a dumbass? 

The dorm complex had a buzzer system like a regular apartment complex, so he searched for her name on the long list, and pressed the button next to it. 

“Hello?” It was her roommate, Marie, that answered. 

“Hey, it’s Tom. I’m here to pick up y/n.” He could hear some indistinct giggling coming from the other side of the line. 

“Of course, c’mon up. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit.” Next followed the buzzer, and the doors opened for him. The number on the button said 54, so he assumed it had to be on the fifth floor. When he walked up to the door with that number, he was greeted with a colourful collage of rock bands whose hair was probably more impressive than their vocal range, which said a lot considering Queen was on it. 

He knocked and waited for someone to open. y/n was the one to do it. She stood frozen in the door, only a towel wrapped around her body. 

“I thought we said seven?” she said, her voice a bit higher than usual.

“It’s quarter past seven!” Marie shouted out from inside the dorm. y/n cursed. 

“Shit, sorry, I lost complete track of time. Give me ten minutes, okay?” she held up a finger so he would wait here. Tom nodded and let her close the door again. He could still hear her yell at Marie as to why she had not told her she was running late, to which Marie only responded with hysterical laughter. 

“Holland?” someone in the hallway asked a few minutes later. Tom turned in the direction to see a guy with a head full of bed hair poke out of his doorway (which was covered in pictures of death metal posters and my little ponies). He stepped out in the hallway to reveal he was wearing nothing but a pair of tiny and tight briefs, leaving little to the imagination. 

“Oh hey… Crocker,” he called the guy by his preferred nickname. 

“Hey man, what are you doing here?” Crocker asked. The way his eyes were almost ruby red and the stench coming from his room, Tom presumed that the guy was higher than a kite. 

“Oh you know, waiting for a date, heh.” He said a bit awkwardly, pointing back to door 54. 

“Ah, getting some of that French jay nehsuh gwaa.” 

Tom looked confused. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard someone butcher a language that badly. Well, probably, but he didn’t remember it. He kind of understood what Crocker meant, though.

“No, I’m here for y/n. Not Marie.”

“Damn? Really.” Crocker started to giggle, which might as well just have been a side effect from whatever he had smoked up in his room. 

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure how else to react. Crocker just shrugged and walked back into his room, smashing the door closed. Tom turned slowly, not sure what exactly had happened just then. And he turned right on time too, because the door of dorm 54 opened and y/n walked out. Wearing a raincoat over a sweater and jeans. She also had a pair of black ankle boots on. Tom could not help but smile at the sight of her. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, the nervousness in her voice was unmistakable. 

“First,” Tom spoke, remembering one of his earlier worries from days ago, “you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” The question made her laugh.

“I very much do not. Why did you think that?” 

“The sweater you wore when we met. It had that whole stole-it-from-my-boyfriend vibe.” 

“No, I haven’t had anyone to steal clothes from in a long time.” she shook her head. Tom extended his hand for her to take, which she gladly did. It felt amazing.

“So what will you be ordering?” 

“Ice cream,” Tom answered, almost matter-of-factly. 

 _________________________________

“Ice cream?” you asked to make sure you had heard him correctly. He nodded in agreement. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cold for that?” 

“No.” He said bluntly, which really sold the case for you. You were on your way again.

You could hear the rain pound against the main door before you even reached the ground floor, and it only got harder and louder the nearer you got. Tom, being a true gentleman, opened the door for you, but you were a bit hesitant to walk outside. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he let you hold the door so he could step through the threshold and push open the umbrella. You noticed it was a Delta Kappa umbrella. They really made merch of everything. As he put the umbrella up, he extended his arm for you to intertwine yours through. Then, you walked. 

Though it was relatively early, the sky was pitch black because of how early the sun set those days and the dark clouds that had been pestering the sky that entire day. Not a star was to be seen. The rain tapped heavily against the umbrella, and you tried to stay as close to Tom as possible. The excuse, of course, was to not get wet but really you wanted to enjoy the warmth that he was giving off. At one point you had changed position from just having your arm over his, to him wrapping his arm over your shoulder. 

You walked down a brightly lit path, so you could see everything around you. The trees, the cars passing by, the building. So, when you saw the little café at the end of the street, you squealed. 

While there were plenty of bars, pubs and clubs to go to around town, so there were restaurants and cafés. And while restaurants really weren’t your thing, you loved to sit in one of the cosy coffee shops with a cup of tea or coffee and read a good book. Another fun thing about all those places was that they were very internationally orientated, speaking to the wide variety of students that the university had. Le Moulin was of course based on a Parisian café. You had actually found it together with Marie, in hopes she could have something that felt a bit closer to home. Though it didn’t come close to the real magic of the French capital, it still had plenty of its charm in it. Not to mention, the pain du chocolats were to die for! 

Yet, you had never actually had ice cream from their menu. 

You still weren’t sure if today would be the day for it. By the time you wear under the little entrance roof, you were freezing, and so was Tom, visibly. 

“Are you still sure about the ice cream?” you asked him as he closed the umbrella.

“Hot chocolate?” he suggested, suddenly fluent in your love language: chocolate and hot drinks (it was a very simplified version of said love language). 

This time Tom got to be the real gentleman as he let you walk inside first. He dropped the umbrella in the stand, together with a few others. When you looked around the café, you saw that a few more couples were enjoying the cosiness. A sweet melody was playing from the speakers. The rain had also softened outside, and together with the vintage sounds of guitar and vocals, it gave the perfect atmosphere for the night.

You had barely stepped inside when one of the waiters walked up. He smiled and said: “Your table is ready,” which surprised you, but Tom took you by the hand, and you both followed the waiter to one of the tables next to the wall, where one side had a couch instead of the usual chairs. You sat down first, taking off your jacket. Tom was going to sit opposite you, but now it was your turn to grab his hand. 

“Slide in.”

He smiled and sat down. He probably didn’t need any convincing and just wanted to hear you say that you wanted him to sit next to you. You didn’t mind that. 

“Should I prepare the order?” the waiter asked as you made yourself comfortable, again confusing the hell out of you. 

“Actually, scrap that. We’ll have two large hot chocolates.” Tom said. 

“With cinnamon!” you added. 

“One with cinnamon.” Tom corrected. The waiter nodded and walked off. 

“Don’t like cinnamon?” you quizzed, to which Tom shrugged. 

“It’s alright, just not a big fan.” Both of you looked around the room. You had never been in the café at night, so you hadn’t even realised that the walls were covered in soft gold lights, giving it all that much more the feeling as if you had stepped into a fairytale. 

“I didn’t know this place took reservations.” 

“I’m not sure either,” Tom replied, you noticed he had his arm draped around you again, “I just called to be sure.”  

“Really?” That split you up into two. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought that he had made a special call to the café to get, probably, the best seat in the house. On the other side, you were freaking out for a few reasons. He had put in quite the effort in an almost last minute notice of plans, while you were fifteen minutes late. That was embarrassing enough. And this reservation basically put you in a spotlight for the entire business, which was really not ideal. You didn’t want to be noticed. 

“Hey,” he whispered and squeezed his grip around you lightly, “everything okay?” 

“Huh? Mhm,” you nodded your head and smiled, trying not to think about how the waiters might be judging you. 

“I saw you had posted a picture from this place on your Instagram, and I used to come here a while back, so I thought it would be cool, but if you don’t like it-” 

“It’s perfect,” you made up your mind. In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You felt safe, sitting on the little couch, next to Tom. 

Soon after, the waiter came back with two mugs of hot chocolate. When Tom ordered large ones, they delivered. The mugs might as well have been cereal bowls, topped with a peak of whipped cream and cocoa powder, and a cinnamon stick in your cup to distinguish the two drinks. 

“Et voila!” the waiter put the cups down. You thanked him, and he was gone again.

There were spoons, but you decided to stir your chocolate with the cinnamon stick. 

Still with his arm around you, Tom took his mug up to his lips. With the feeling of having him so close to you, you wondered what this really was. What if he just wanted to be friends and spend some time with you? Had he noticed how sad and lonely you were, and did he want to take his pity out on you? Were you a charity act for him? God, you hoped not. You really really hoped not.

“Tom?” You looked at him, to see his eyes dart in your direction. His top lip was covered in whipped cream. You gestured it to him, slightly giggling, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. How was someone that hot, so adorable? 

“You were saying?” he said, putting the mug down on the table in front of you.

“I was just wondering,” Be quick, get it over with, you’ll feel better when you say it. “is this a date?” 

“Do you want it to be? It doesn’t have to.” He added the second part quickly after.

“I- I think I do,” I smiled. Though he had just put his mug down, he picked it right back up, you did the same.

“Then a date it is.” You clinked cups. Still, something felt off. You were holding the cup up to your lips, but just far enough not to be able to drink from it. Your eyes glazed over as you focused them on the mural in front of you. It was of the Paris skyline. With the Eiffel tower in the middle, the Arc de Triomphe a bit to the left, on the other side stood the two symmetrical towers of the Notre Dame cathedral. It was probably geographically inaccurate, just good enough to keep everyone who had never been to the City of Love satisfied. 

“Okay, something’s up.” Tom brought you back to the date. “What’s wrong? And, please, be honest.” 

“I don’t know,” you huffed out a laugh. “But before you start to freak out, it’s nothing to do with you, I swear.”

“So, you kind of know what it is about.” he raised an eyebrow. He had a point. If you knew what it was not, it meant you knew what it was, indeed. 

“I, uhm,” suddenly you felt very much aware of everything and everyone around you. Were they listening? “Well, I really want to apologise for being so distant outside of Instagram.” 

“There’s really no need for that, darling,” he said. “I understand it, and should have been a bit more considerate. I should have realised sooner that bars and shit aren’t your cup of tea.. or hot chocolate.” 

You both laughed. 

“Yeah,” you were smiling, but the word came out a bit as a sigh, conveying your all the troubling thoughts that were going on in your brain.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Tom saw through it. You bit your lip, not sure how to say it. You didn’t want to say it. He would probably think you were a joke. Besides, all those people around. Some of them from your school. They could probably hear every word you were saying.

“Do you maybe want to text it to me?” he suggested with a kind smile. You hadn’t realised when he had moved, but he had let go of your shoulders, and his hand was now on top of yours. His thumb moved slowly over your skin, reassuring you that, whatever it was, it was okay. 

How you hoped it was. 

You grabbed your phone and started to type out your message, taking a deep breath before sending it to him. You heard the vibration in his pocket, and with it, your heart skipped with anxiety. Tom kept holding on to your hand as he took out his phone and read the text. His eyes shot wide open. 

“Wait, really?” 

 _________________________________

“Never?” he asked, to which she bit her lip and shook her head. 

No, it wasn’t possible. 

“How has no one- nooo,” 

“It just… never got far enough- No, I mean, ugh,” she finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. Tom had to admit that it was cute how that was her go-to frustration action. She wiped off the whipped cream from her lip. Tom couldn’t stop looking at them, they were just so perfect. He wanted to feel her, to taste her. He wouldn’t even mind the taste of cinnamon that would have remained on them. 

“There was just never a guy that made me think, oh yeah, I want to kiss him,” she said after another sip of the hot chocolate. 

“So, you’d want to kiss me?” 

“Shut up,” she said glaring, but just to hide the big smile on her face. 

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’ve never been kissed.” She flinched a bit at his words. “I don’t mean it in that way. You shouldn’t be ashamed of never being kissed. Sometimes it happens early on, sometimes it doesn’t. If it wasn’t for my pledge, I don’t think I would have had my first kiss till last year.” He confessed. y/n looked at him with eyebrows that had a twist of disbelief in them. 

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear,” Tom laughed, putting his hands up. “So really, no judgement here.” Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear, “and I definitely won’t mind breaking you in,” He couldn’t keep a straight face saying it, and neither could she. He had thought it would make her nervous or flushed, but she just slapped him on his arms teasingly. 

“In your dreams, Holland.” 

“Fuck, I hope so.” That made her freeze, just for a second though. “Shit, too much?” He asked, afraid he had finally taken it too far with his inappropriate humour. 

“No, you’re good.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate, allowing Tom to do so as well. 

“See, just because I’ve never been kissed, it immediately puts me under this label of being a prude or something, but I’m really not. I’ve just- had a really shitty love life.” Or just a complete lack of it.

“Well, I hope to change that.” He leaned in again and pecked her cheek. That finally got him the flushed reaction he had hoped for. 

“You already did.” 

 _________________________________

Your hand moved up to your cheek, hovering above the area that he had kissed. You felt like an idiot, but with Tom, it didn’t even feel like a bad thing. 

“We’ve known each other for less than two days, and I can already tell you, you’re way up there in the list of good dates.” 

“Way up there? Give me stats.” He nudged on. You thought for a second. 

“At least… top ten.” 

“Top five? Oh C’mon, babe, I think I’m a bit better than that. Not to toot my own horn, of course.” 

“Top five.” You said, ignoring the butterflies that had escaped in your stomach. He glared at you. You glared back, keeping your eyes on each other for another moment until he had dipped his finger in his hot chocolate and pressed it against your nose. You blinked in confusion. 

“That just moved you down to number six.” 

“Well, shit.” Tom leaned in and licked the whipped cream off your nose. As disgusting as it should have been, you burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in his chest to not disturb the rest of the restaurant. While you were trying to calm down, you felt Tom kiss the top of your head a few times. 

Finally, you sat up again. 

“Top three,” you stated. It was good enough for Tom. For now. 

You drank the rest of your drinks in the best silence possible that could be kept as both of you kept laughing at each other. Finally, the mugs were empty. Tom paid for everything and let you take the lead to walk outside with the umbrella. When you opened the door, however, you saw that the storm had now passed over into a light drizzle. You kept the umbrella closed. 

You were already letting yourself get taken up by the rain when Tom was outside. You thought he would come to join you, but he stayed under the little roof, watching you with a big smile. 

“Not afraid of the rain, are you?” you asked. “Or are you made of sugar?” 

“All I can say is, come and find out for yourself.” You were already a few steps away, so you hopped over to him, took his hand and took the final step, so you were touching chest to chest. His other hand found its way on your hip. You saw his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. You smiled and pulled him in closer, making you take a step back and exposing him to the weather. 

“Mutherfucker!” He gasped, not having expected that. “Ohh, you’re good.” 

Before you knew what was happening, he had picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You squealed from surprise before the both of you started laughing again. Eventually, he had to put you back down again, and your eyes widened in horror when you saw him walk to a large puddle. 

“No, Tom! No, no, no.!” He put you down right next to it. Probably an inch from the water edge. 

“C’mon, I’m not that mean.” he pouted. 

“Nah, you’re a softy,” you poked his cheek. He grabbed your hand. 

“Oi, I wouldn’t go that far.” then kissed the tip of your index finger, which you had poked him with a second before.

“Too late, I guess.” 

“You sure about that? You’re still really close to that puddle babe. We wouldn’t want any… accidents!” He gripped you by the waist again, and the sudden movement made you feel like he was gonna throw you down into the puddle. You shrieked but soon felt his arms still around you and no parts of your body were soaked (only moderately wet from the light rain) or on the ground. He was still holding you. 

“You never answered me,” he said, his sweet laughter was gone, and his eyes were on your lips again. 

“Answer what?” you kept looking at his face as a whole, taking in every detail. The way his nose scrunched when droplets of rain well on it. How one of his eyebrows was more bushy and irregular than the other. The dimple in his chin, his freckles- everything. 

“If you wanted to kiss me.” 

His golden-brown eyes were so warm, even in the dim street lights at night. His wet hair was sticking to his face, but framing it so nicely. His jaw was sharp, it didn’t seem like it should be real. 

“I do.”

His lips. Though thin and a bit chapped, they still felt so soft. The sweet taste of chocolate, mixed in with the rain that had fallen in the few moments that you stood outside. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you in closer to him. It felt so good. So right. 

You pulled away but with no idea how much time had gone by. His stands stayed in their position, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. Nothing came from it since you were still in an emotional daze. 

Tom chuckled. 

“Fuck, I should have slid into your DMs sooner.” 

“Way to ruin the mood, Holland.”

“Oh, you love it.” He said before pulling you into another kiss. 

The END

> song played in Le Moulin: Rendez-vous sous la pluie (Jean Sablon)

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

> if anyone has a comment about how it had only been a day since they met etc. i wrote this 15k story in the span of 24 hours. i wish i could have added more to it but at this point, i am physically and emotionally exhausted and do not want to make it even longer. 

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96  @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown  @spiderrrling​ @captainpeggy40 @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz​ @madzleigh01​ @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey​ @quaksonhehe​ @mountainsforwords​ @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex​ @ethereal-beauty-p​ @slytherin-chaser​ @worldoftom​ @moonysoftt​ @peeterparkr​ @wazzupmrstark​ @saintlavrents​ @peachybloomss​ @blissfulparker​ @chloecreatesfictions-archive​  @fallinfortom​ @bitchydecisions​ @okokimfreakingoutahh @cicicantblog​ @musicalkeys​ @joyleenl​ @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014​ @marvelouspeterparker​

[blu-joons]

You Appear On Knowing Bros Together ~ Min Yoongi

When the two of you were invited onto Knowing Bros, Yoongi couldn’t hide his excitement. You knew that he was good friends with Heechul, but you were a little more lost having never met any of the cast before.

“Heechul promised to look after us,” Yoongi smiled as you finished adjusting your school jacket, “he’ll tease you, but that’s just what he’s like. You’ll soon settle in and be able to give it back to him.”

It took a long time for Yoongi to convince you to join him on the show, you were very apprehensive about doing a variety show. You weren’t the funniest person, and you definitely didn’t have the best stories, but that didn’t stop them being desperate to have you on.

Unlike you, Yoongi snapped up the chance to be back on the show. He’d told you all about his last appearance with the boys, all the games they played and how relaxed everyone was. For once everyone treated each other as friends which he especially loved.

You had to admit when you watched his episode, you loved it. You just hoped that they’d be as nice to you as they were to the rest of the boys. If not, you knew you were going to be the butt of everyone’s jokes for the episode.

“I think they’re ready for us,” Yoongi smiled as he glanced up at the clock to recognise the cue.

You nodded, feeling his hand grab onto yours, “I’m so nervous,” you whispered across to him.

He stopped the two of you as you reached the sliding door, placing his hands on your hips. “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.”

He listened closely to their conversation in the classroom, slamming the door open at the right time to make them all jump. Your eyes instantly met Hodong as you walked in who offered you a warm smile, encouraging you to introduce yourselves.

“I’m Y/N, and I’ve transferred from the school of, my boyfriend definitely forced me to be here today,” you grinned, earning yourself a laugh.

“And I’m Suga, and I come from the school of, my band mates are rubbish, so I’ve bought a better student with me this time.”

You instantly began to settle as you looked out at all their smiles, seeing that Yoongi was right all along. Standing in front of them was a very intimidating experience, but they soon made you feel comfortable around them.

“We’ve had so many people ask when we were going to get the two of you on the show,” Soogeun announced as he read through your profiles, “having you here is going to do wonders for our ratings.”

Your eyes rolled in surprise, “is this your way of saying you’re just using us to boost your profile?” You quizzed, watching as Soogeun sunk down in his seat.

“I warned you all that she wasn’t afraid to stand her ground,” Yoongi yelled out.

With that, you reached under the desk for the plastic hammer, hitting it against the table. You enjoyed asserting your dominance quickly and making sure they all knew that you weren’t prepared to sit back and let them mock you.

Once you’d finished reading through the profiles, Yoongi nudged Youngcheol to the back so he could sit and allow you to begin your questions. You grabbed the cue cards from underneath the table, clearing your throat before you began to read.

“The boys of BTS recently came back from a four-month tour of America, but what was the first thing Yoongi and I did when he got back?” You read out to them all.

You felt your anxiety grow as Heechul was the first to call out that he had the answer. Just like yours, Yoongi’s cheeks also turned red as he feared what was going to come out of his close friends’ mouth.

“Did you take him to the bedroom?” He questioned, tilting his head forwards straight after, offering himself for you to hit with the hammer.

“It’s nothing rude,” you quickly pointed out, “I guess you could say it’s a little more romantic.”

“You took him to the bedroom with rose petals on the bed,” Heechul called out, continuing to tease you both.

You spun back around to hit him again, “we can keep doing this all day long if you want.”

He cowered down in his seat as Sangmin yelled out the next suggestion of a meal at a restaurant, followed by Kyunghoon and Youngcheol who too were wrong with their guesses. They were far off the mark each time, eventually leaving you no choice but to help them out a bit.

“We were at home,” you told them all, thinking back to the memory, “and it was actually something Yoongi organised, I had no idea that he’d done this at all.”

“Is it to do with music?” Janghoon questioned, raising his arm in the air. “Did he write you a song or something to celebrate coming home?”

Your shoulders shrugged as you thought for a few moments, “it’s music associated, but he didn’t actually write me a song, he showed me something instead.”

“Did it have something to do with his fans?” Soogeun questioned as your eyes lit up.

You instantly cheered as they began to get on the right track, as Heechul chimed up again. “Did he record the fans singing your song, I did that for a girl once, but it didn’t work out.”

“That’s spot on,” you yelled as Heechul’s expression changed to one of shock. “He got the fans to sing my favourite BTS song, as I never made it to a concert, he filmed it, so I’d feel like I was there.”

“That’s so romantic,” Sangmin cooed, “now I can see why the two of you have been together for so long if you do things like that for each other.”

Once Yoongi had finished bragging about his kind gesture, you moved onto the next question, reading through it with a smile before reading it out to the rest of the room.

“Which artist have I got featuring on my new single?” You asked them all, “which is actually getting released the day after this episode airs.”

“I was wondering when we were going to tell everyone,” Heechul teased, earning himself yet another hit with the hammer.

Straight away Kyunghoon spotted how coy Yoongi had become as you read out the card, folding his arms across his chest.

“Is it someone we know?” Hodong asked, clueless to what most of the rest of the classroom had noticed. “Has he been on our show before?”

Behind him, Soogeun couldn’t help but chuckle, kicking the back of his chair. “How have you not instantly figured out why the two of them are here today.”

Hodong glared up at you, “am I really the only person that doesn’t understand what’s going on?”

“I always knew you were an idiot,” Kyunghoon joked, hitting his hands on the table, “you’re here because you’re working with Yoongi.”

A loud groan came from Hodong as he hit his forehead with the front of his hand. “That’s exactly right, I needed a rapper for the song, and he refused to let anyone else do it.”

“I knew no one could do it better than me,” he quickly acknowledged, spinning around in his chair. “I know exactly what sort of music she likes and what direction she likes to take her songs in, so I knew what I had to do.”

Once you’d finished your questions, you then turned to Yoongi’s, before finishing the filming with a game with Shindong making a surprise appearance.

As the director yelled cut, you were filled with relief, finally allowing your beloved hammer to fall to the floor.

“How was that?” Yoongi asked, wrapping his arm underneath your jacket, “did you enjoy it as much as you thought you would.”

“I loved it, thank you for encouraging me to come.”

---

Masterlist

[peachykindalovesyou]

What would the yandere dorm leaders do when their darling dedicates a Christmas album to them? Like they are famous singer?

Authors note:: I think about this scenario a lot (/0wu)- <3 (I apologize that these are short, I haven’t grasped their personalities completely yet! qwq)

Famous Singer!MC Dedicating A Christmas Album To The Dorm Leaders

Riddle Rosehearts

His face is as red as literally everything in the Heartslabyul dorm

As soon as he heard his name in one of your songs, his face flushed red and he had to go take a breather else where.

He never knew you were a famous singer! Why didn’t you tell him this!

He’s never felt so embarrassed and flustered, yet so annoyed and aggravated!

Your beautiful honey like voice should only be reserved for him, no one else.

Hearing your beautiful voice singing about the holidays and him, he could sleep like a baby listening to you.

Not to mention how much he listens to the album in his free time, even when its summer! Nothing will stop him.

Of course, he listens to it in private so he can keep up with his professional queen like status.

He also doesn’t want any of his residents or dorm mates to make fun of him.

Especially the Adeuce duo, keep them far away from him when he’s listening to music.

Overall, he is supportive of your career path, but maybe you should make your songs private instead. They are only for him to listen to, and admire.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona doesn’t listen to music very often, but once he hears that you sing? He’s more than intrigued.

He listens to it in his free time (Which is pretty common for him)

When you mentioned him in one of your songs, his eyes widened a little and he cheeks were dusted with a slight maroon hue.

Now everyone knows you’re his and he’s yours, right?

Now will they stop drooling over you?

If not, he’s always ready to pounce.

He had to replay it again and again to make sure he wasn’t hearing things.

You actually mentioned him in one of your songs? HIM?

He is very flustered, but covers it up with a cocky grin, smirking in front of the others when you mention (forced to mention) your album for him.

Hearing your voice makes him feel so calm and collected, he wants you to sing him to sleep!...You have a lot of singing to do.

He doesn’t care if its the holidays or not, he wants to hear your heavenly voice all year ‘round!

He thinks its amazing how you’ve managed to get this far, he does, but he feels the need to hide you from the world, your voice, body, mind, soul, your everything should belong to him, only him.

Now that that’s said...

do you mind giving him a private concert of his own? He’d really appreciate it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Oh boy oh boy oh boy

Would you like to apologize to his brain? Why you ask? Because it stopped functioning.

When he hears you dedicated it to him, he goes off the fucking shits.

He wants to tell the whole world about how you’re his and only his!

Once he hears it he wants you to sing to him in private while he works or relaxes, it soothes him so much, he can’t help but want to hear more and more of your angelic voice.

On one hand he might try to have you sing in the Mostro Lounge for the holidays.

Sorry, scratch that, he wants you to sing in the Mostro Lounge every chance you get.

But on the other hand, he wants to keep your lovely voice for himself!

When he hears that you’re famous? He won’t take that very well.

He wants you to himself! No one else! Only him!!!

He doesn’t want and useless clams looking your way, it should only be him ogling his eyes at you. But at the same time, all he wants to do is show you off to the world, show them how far his Angelfish has gotten.

Just one more thing for you, it’d be wise of you to keep on making albums for him.

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim is so happy to hear that you dedicate something to him!

Are you finally learning to love him? Are you!? ARE YOU!?

He’s so excited, he’s practically bouncing off the walls! Even Jamil can’t stop him now!

Kalim demands to throw a party in celebration of this! Showing you off to the others.

He has it Christmas themed as well, it fits, doesn’t it?

Your songs are playing over and over again at the party.

He wants to show you off to everyone and everything!

His face practically SCREAMS “Look at my partner! Look LOOK LOOK!!!!”

The fact that you’re famous amazes him so much!

How did you do it? How did you get this far? Was it hard?

Let the questions and even more looks of adoration roll in..

Of course, he supports you so much! Maybe you could even feature him in another album in the future? Pretty please?

But no matter what, you’ll only love him, right? You wouldn’t ever break his heart, ever, right?

Vil Schoenheit

When he first listens to the album, he is critiquing almost everything about it.

But he appreciated the gesture, no less. It just proves everyone that you belong to him, and him alone.

If you make a music video based off of the songs you wrote, he will help you get ready and choose your outfit and makeup.

If fact, no matter the occasion, he will always doll you up. Going to a small get together? He’s doing your makeup. Going shopping? He’s already picking out a cute top.

he might even dress up with you and give you a passionate kiss in front of the cameras.

He likes posting pictures of you two together in elegant clothing with the captions similar to “Aren’t they just beautiful?” or “My one and only.”

Even your fans won’t know what’s going on, they think you two are the perfect and most beautiful couple.

In every photo he is always holding you close, a visible tight grip on your waist, he’s never going to let go.

If you let him, no...he will force you to do the same with him. Making you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes, although yours hold fear and anxiety while his hold the look of admiration and deep love.

He will make you dedicate another album or song to him, you might as well with your whole career. You are always under his complete control, just a doll for him to dress up and play with.

Idia Shroud

He already knew you were going to make one from the start, he knows almost everything about you thanks to his incredible hacking skills and his quiet demeanor.

As he already heard the news, when you finally released it, he wasn’t surprised that everyone loved and adored you.

What he didn’t know, was that you were going to dedicate it to him.

His face flushed red and he hid in his large hoodie, practically swimming in it at this point.

He is a naturally shy person, so seeing you do this for him, he wouldn’t be able to show his face to you, at all.

But once he finally gets over the shyness, he quickly calls you over to his room, and if you don’t come, he’ll get Ortho to fetch you instead.

Once you’re finally their with him in his room, he quietly approaches you, twiddling his thumbs. The ground has never looked more interesting to him in his entire life.

He asks if you really meant that, you had to lie now. When you said yes, you could see tears in his eyes, as well as his bright pink cheeks.

He makes you spend time with him in his room, watching anime, playing video games, and cuddling.

He hugs you close to his body, pressing his face into your chest, looking up he asks you if you really love him with a pleading face.

Yes. You did. But...are you sure you’re being honest?

Malleus Draconia (+ a lil’ bit of Lilia...)

Someone would have to tell him for him to find out, since, well...he isn’t too familiar with modern technology.

The people who would tell him would be Silver (A very low chance though...a sleepy boy, he is.), Sebek, and Lilia. Definitely Lilia.

When he first listens to the song, he feels warm inside.

He isn’t the type to listen to music, but this is most definitely an exception.

He would much rather listen to it with you though, isn’t it nice just to be alone together?

Just you and him...as well as the growing suspension in the room.

You would sit there uncomfortably, hoping that he would just give you a little more freedom since you have done this for him.

He would hum along to the music and suggest dancing, you would have to oblige, you can’t have a punishment now.

You’re constantly waiting for the songs to end, you used to enjoy his company when he wasn’t so protective. But now? That enjoyment is ruined, gone.

Lilia would join you two! Taking turns dancing with you and singing as well. He’d offer to bake cookies for the three of you! (Don’t take the offer, please..)

They are both possessive over you, this is only for them to enjoy, you are only for them to enjoy, you will be their obedient and joyful ruler.

Now now, just put on that crown and give yourself to the Prince Of Thorns, you wouldn’t want to risk a punishment, would you?

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 17 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: If you’re surprised by this surprise chapter drop you don’t really know me at all do you. I mean...THE BOY WON THE CALDER...OF COURSE THAT DESERVES A POST!!!! What better way to celebrate than with some cowboy calder cale?

Warnings: cursing, awkwardness

Word Count: 2,799

~~~~~

Stampede was by far one of your favorite parts of summertime. Calgary erupted with good food and drinks and some great music. Of course, it was the last weekend of Stampede before you were finally able to make your way downtown to enjoy it. 

Having dipped out of work early, like pretty much everyone else since it was Friday after all, you went home and changed into a pair of denim shorts, a white tank and a light flannel shirt. Throwing on your seldom worn cowboy boots and grabbing your hat, you drove into downtown near Stampede Park. 

Cale and his family were already here and you texted him to see where they wanted to meet up. Grabbing your wallet you clipped your keys onto your shorts and pocketed your phone after receiving Cale’s text in response. Finally throwing your hat on, you weaved through crowds of people after entering the park, making your way over to the location Cale had directed you to. 

Spotting Cale before the rest of his family, you made your way over wrapping him in a friendly hug. You still hadn’t told your families you were together but it had only been four days since you’d shared your first ‘I love you’s’. Cale looked sexy as fuck dressed in jeans, his own flannel and cowboy hat. 

Thankfully you were distracted when Laura came over, pulling you away from her eldest son to chat about the plans for the night and whatever else was on her mind. It wasn’t long before Cale and Taylor were both pulling you away to go ride a couple rides and you laughed as the brothers bickered over which rides you needed to go on first. It had been like this every year for as long as you could remember and the outcome was always the same. Cale would claim older brother privilege while Taylor would plead for you to take his side. 

“I’m picking the first ride.” You declared pinching both boys in the side as you turned to walk toward your favorite. 

“Wait..what...that’s not how this goes?” Taylor sputtered. 

“It is now.” You insisted as you climbed onto the first ride. Taylor was pouting but Cale just shook his head going with the decision you’d made. 

“Oh stop the pouting.” You teased, bumping your shoulder against Taylor’s as you exited the ride a few minutes later. “You’re not a kid anymore.” 

“But I’m still…”

“The baby...I know.” You said shaking your head. “Your pick bud.” You proclaimed, causing Cale to whine. 

“Just make your brother happy...you know we’ll do your ride next.” You whispered as Taylor practically ran ahead to the next ride. Cale grumbled a bit but went along and you shook your head. “I forget that I have to babysit the two of you every year.” You joked. “I thought I was done with that when you both became adults.” 

Taylor’s ride was one of Cale’s least favorites, but he went along with it anyway before quickly dragging both of you to his choice after. By the time you finished that and the one ride all three of you agreed on, both of their stomachs were growling loudly. 

“Okay boys...let’s go find mom and dad.” You declared. The words had slid from your mouth without a second thought and while Cale didn’t seem to notice them either, Taylor did a double take as he raced to catch back up. 

The five of you got dinner at one of the many food stands before settling in at a picnic table to eat. Conversation flowed easily, you truly felt like a part of this family and that was even without considering your new relationship with Cale. Though a tiny part of you was worried about what his family would think...what your family would think...you felt confident that nothing was really going to change. You fit here and your relationship with Cale could only improve that. 

After dinner, you all started walking around, stopping at various vendor tents, killing time before heading over to the Nashville North stage for the nightly concert. 

“We’re going to go get drinks...why don’t you and Cale head to grab spots?” Laura declared. As Cale’s family walked in the other direction, you looked over at Cale. He really looked so fucking handsome and you couldn’t help but slip your hat off as you took a step closer to him, pressing up for a kiss. You’d been wanting to kiss him all afternoon but had refrained...now you couldn’t help yourself any longer. Cale’s hand slid into the curve of your back as he kissed you again, neither of you noticing that Laura had doubled back toward you, the question about whether you wanted a certain type of cider falling off as she witnessed you locking lips with her son.

“Are you two kidding me??” She practically shrieked, her eyes wide. His mother’s voice drew Cale’s attention and he pulled back from the kiss like he’d been shocked. It took another second for her voice to register in your ears as well but once it had you turned around, your stomach twisting violently. 

This was NOT how you planned to tell your families. 

Cale’s thumb rubbed circles against your back and though his cheeks were red, he still radiated an air of confidence as he looked over at Laura who had hardly moved. 

“What did you need mom?” He questioned, flipping the subject on its head away from the embarrassment flooding your cheeks. Laura repeated her question about the cider and when no response fell from your lips, Cale answered for you. 

“We’re going to talk about this later.” Laura mumbled as she looked between the two of you again. 

“Sure mom.” Cale agreed, his lips grazing against the top of your head. As she walked away, you turned in Cale’s arms, burying your head against his chest. “Well I don’t think that was what we had in mind.” He chuckled. 

“I blame the damn cowboy hat.” You mumbled, your words pulling a full laugh from Cale’s body. “Fuck.” You added, groaning softly. 

“It’s fine Y/N.” Cale insisted. “You know my parents love you. Yeah mom is a little shocked but it’s all gonna be fine. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Cale...your mom just saw me with your tongue down my throat…” You whined. 

“And she’s probably planning at least the engagement party if not the wedding…” Cale teased. “Hey…” He soothed. “I love you okay. Take a breath.” His arms tightened around you in a full hug and he pressed soft kisses along your head. “So our timing still sucks...but bright side…at least now we don’t have to figure out how to tell them.” 

Though you still weren’t fully composed, you let Cale pull you to the concert venue, where he pulled you back into his chest, his hands falling to your hips. When his family joined you it wasn’t clear whether Laura had said anything to Gary and Taylor or not. No one said anything about it at least, and you took the glass Taylor handed you, eagerly taking a large sip. 

Thankfully the band tonight was a good one and you were able to lose yourself in the music. The alcohol in the cider and the heat from Cale’s palm also helped ground you letting you enjoy yourself until the band packed up for the night and it was time to head home. 

“I’ll ride with Y/N and we’ll meet you back at the house.” Cale declared. Laura looked like she wanted to protest but a look from Gary silenced her and they headed off with Taylor in the direction of their car while Cale followed you to yours. “Want me to drive?” He inquired. “Or are you good?” 

Without hesitation you tossed him your keys, sliding into the passenger seat as anxiety crept back up on you. 

“Sweetheart...you gotta breathe.” Cale urged, his hand squeezing your own as he navigated through traffic. “I know you’re embarrassed but...you’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be and I’m starting to think you’re not just embarrassed about the timing but about me.” 

Cale’s confession was vulnerable and you cursed silently, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. 

“You know that’s not it right? I love you. I just…” Every thought that had been racing through your head since you heard Laura’s voice now seemed utterly foolish and hurtful framed by Cale’s thoughts. 

“You’re right. We have nothing...or at least very little...to be embarrassed about.” You breathed. “I’m sorry for hurting you. That wasn’t my intention.” 

“I know it wasn’t.” Cale spoke softly. Regret sat uncomfortably in your stomach for the rest of the drive and once Cale put the car in park, you immediately unbuckled before racing around to his side. 

“I love you. I could never be embarrassed about being with you.” You whispered, pulling him into a soft but deep kiss. The sound of car doors slamming caused Cale to pull away and you looked up to find his family walking up the driveway behind you. “Let’s go share all the good news.” You murmured, your hand trailing down Cale’s chest gently until that smile you loved so much had returned to his face. 

“Yeah...let’s.” He agreed, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you headed into the house. 

Cale’s family was waiting for you in the kitchen and though the weight of their gazes on you almost felt like an interrogation, you moved to grab bottles of water for you and Cale before settling onto a bar stool as Cale moved to stand behind you. 

It seemed like no one wanted to be the first to speak, but eventually it was Taylor who broke the silence. 

“Now the king size bed makes more sense.” His mumble made your jaw drop and you felt Cale fighting back a laugh. Seeing both your expressions and the looks of confusion on his parents’ faces Taylor continued. “What? She put a double bed in the master when she moved in and then swapped it with a king a week later...that made no sense. Now it does.” 

“Have you two been together this whole time?” Laura questioned, hurt flickering over her face. 

“If you mean since mid-May...yeah.” You admitted softly. 

“Two months...you’ve been together almost two months...and you didn’t think to tell us? Why?” Reaching across the island, you rested your hand over hers hoping that she wouldn’t pull away. 

“We kinda just wanted to feel it all out for ourselves first.”

“I didn’t want to have to answer a million questions when I went to see her.” You and Cale answered at the same time, though his answer was far more blunt than yours. 

“We were getting ready to tell you…” You sighed. “Just not like that.” 

“You mean I wasn’t supposed to find out by catching the two of you making out?” Laura teased, the mood in the room lightening significantly. 

“Apparently that was the cowboy hat’s fault.” Cale ribbed you to his whole family, his hands rubbing over your shoulders. 

“Throw me under the bus why don’t you.” You sassed back, sticking your tongue out at him as you tipped your head back. Cale pressed a quick kiss to your lips before you lowered your head and you smiled, heat rising in your cheeks. 

“How did this even happen?” Gary finally chimed in. “I mean I know your mother has been hoping for it for years but…” 

Though you left out quite a few details, you explained to Cale’s family how you’d realized something was there back in Denver but how you’d both waited until he came home before deciding to actually give it a shot. Taylor didn’t seem super interested and after giving you a quick hug and sharing a look with Cale he mumbled that he was going upstairs. 

“So when I suggested you take her to Iceland with you?” Laura mentioned, refocusing the conversation after Taylor’s disappearance. 

“I was already planning on asking.” Cale stated. Watching the two of you for a moment - the way you looked at each other, how your bodies reacted to each other - her eyes suddenly went wide. 

“There are more pictures aren’t there?” She gasped.

“Yeah there are more.” You nodded, taking Cale’s phone as he dropped it into your hands so that you could pull up the album. Sliding the phone across the island, you watched as Gary and Laura scrolled through them for a few minutes. When she looked up, tears were in her eyes and you couldn’t help but slide off of your stool to round the island. 

With your arms wrapped around her tightly, you felt your heart swell. 

“This is serious?” She whispered. Nodding, you smiled. 

“As serious as it gets.” You agreed. “We don’t know what the future holds...but we plan on finding out together.” A glance over at Cale almost made you cry because you could see in his eyes how much he enjoyed seeing you like this with his mom. 

“I already told her I love her.” Cale admitted. 

“No…” Laura gasped, the excitement on her face growing. 

“Yeah mom...we’ve said I love you.” You said. Laura’s face froze for a moment before she blinked quickly. 

“You just called me mom…” Though her words expressed shock, her face was hopeful and though you hadn’t even realized the implications of your word choice, you shrugged. 

“In love with your son or not...you’ve always been my second mom.” You insisted. “I guess I never realized that I hadn’t called you that before.” 

“I’d love for you to call me mom.” Laura promised. “You’ve always been my daughter but maybe my son will finally make it official.” Cale’s face was a mix of ‘don’t look at me’ and ‘you can bet on it’ and you sent him a smile. 

“There’s no rush on that. Right now we just want to enjoy the summer. Enjoy each other. We’ll take things a step at a time from there.” You assuaged her. 

“You don’t know how happy I am right now.” Laura nearly squealed. “Still a little shocked but so happy.” Hugging her again, you watched as she moved to hug Cale as well, leaning up to whisper in his ear causing his cheeks to flush. 

“You’ve always made him a better person.” Gary’s voice floated quietly to your ears. “He’s scored way outta his league with you.” 

“I don’t know about that.” You denied, stepping into Gary’s open arms. “Is it cool if I call you dad?” You whispered, hesitantly. 

“Of course it is.” He quickly agreed. “You are our daughter after all.”

Pulling back, you let out a yawn. “Cale...why don’t you take your girl home.” Gary instructed. 

Promising Laura that you would tell your own parents over the weekend, you eventually made your way out the door with Cale. You felt like you were about to burst from the love and acceptance you felt and you couldn’t help but kiss Cale as he moved to open your car door for you. 

“I told you it would be fine.” Cale murmured. 

“Don’t get used to always being right.” You warned jokingly. 

Cale’s hand fell to your thigh on the short ride home and you just watched him as he drove, your brain replaying tonight’s conversations in your head. 

It wasn’t until you climbed out of your car that you spoke again. 

“So do you think dad told you to bring me home so that you didn’t have to be pestered by mom all night?” 

“Maybe...either way I’m not complaining.” Cale smirked, unlocking your front door, holding it open for you. Kicking off your boots, you started down the hall toward the bedroom. Undressing in silence, you fell into bed beside Cale. You didn’t have to sleep alone tonight and that was honestly the best part of all of this. 

“I love you calling my parents mom and dad.” He whispered as your bodies curled together. “I never really thought about that aspect of things but you having that close of a relationship with them just makes me fall even more in love with you.” 

“I love them. Almost as much as I love you.” Your soft chirp turned to a shriek as Cale tickled you before pressing his lips to yours. The heat behind the kiss was minimal, enough to turn it into a make-out session but not enough to push it into anything more. Instead you just shared lazy kisses until you were practically falling asleep. 

And wrapped in Cale’s arms you slept soundly for the first time in two weeks. 

[cynicalrainbows]

Headcannon I have surrounding Christmas and the queens!

Jane is all for Christmas, she has a tree, lights, decorations, the whole nine yards

Anne gets slightly overwhelmed at the idea of Christmas, even though it happens every year, it takes her about a week of Cathy bribing her with cuddles to come down stairs (also, if you HC Anne as having food aversions, imagine Christmas dinner)

Catalina, despite being religious in her past life, isn’t too big on Christmas now a days, it makes her think of Mary, and how she misses her then Catalina feels guilty for missing Mary. The cycle continues until Kitty gently persuades Catalina to come downstairs and be with her friends.

And a bonus one.... JOAN!!!!

Joan likes the idea of Christmas rather than the holiday itself. She doesn’t like all the buzz of the theatre and the queens and other ladies frequently talk over her in rehearsal (not intentionally, Joan doesn’t speak very loudly and she barely ever shouts) about their plans ( Maria asks if everyone is going to the queens house, Jane says yes but somehow Joan doesn’t think that the invitation stretches to her, causing a few tears, noticed by Maggie).

In Short

Jane loves Christmas

Catalina and Anne take a while to adjust

Christmas stresses Joan out

Oh I can imagine that!

Like Jane LOVED Tudor Christmas AND now she loves modern Christmas- she’s adapted really well to how it’s celebrated differently now and just totally embraces the whole ‘when in Rome’ idea, reasoning that they might as well get on board with these weird new traditions. Modern people believe in some Father Christmas person to deliver gifts? Why not! Turkey rather than boar? What a curious delicious new animal! A Christmas tree? She will make a whole set of hand embroidered ornaments and they’ll look amazing!

Poor Anne would mildly suffer at Christmas though- Cathy too. Lots of noise, lots of lights and distractions, a ton of new food that you’re expected to eat ‘for tradition’ (plus some foods that the 21st century have fucked up like mince pies!), change in routine and worst of all, the absolute forced jollity of it, and the sort of silent implication that if you’re not having an amazing time, you’re letting everyone down and Failing Christmas. Mildly out of sorts most of the year is fine but at Christmas, there’s so much more pressure to be happy, which ironically makes them both very uncomfortable and hyper aware of themselves. This is why the queens also put certain limitations on how the celebrate- they do a Christmas tree and decorate outside but the lights are plain white lights and absolutely not flashing. Automated noisy decorations are obviously banned too. They get a plastic tree, not a real one, because the smell is too much sometimes, and while they have Christmas dinner, they also have some unconventional dishes so that everyone can just eat whatever they want. Modern Christmas songs are also banned in the queens house, just because everyone despises them- they play carols if they want festive music.

I think Catalina would also agree that the forced jollity of Christmas and the focus on family togetherness is quite painful- which is another reason the queens keep the ‘Christmas cheer aspect’ to a minimum. Yes, it’s a fun holiday. Yes, there are good bits. No, it’s not the best day of the year, nor the most wonderful time of the year and anyone implying it IS will be given short shrift: it’s a fun day but also one that can be stressful and bring back bad memories and any queen who needs to absent herself at any point is free to do so without judgement or pressure, and only the gentlest of questioning as to whether they want company or to be alone, or whether they’d just like the Christmas film paused/the music turned down/the lights dimmed at bit. Even Jane, lover of Christmas, finds it too much sometimes.

Joan thinking she isn’t invited to the queens house breaks my heart into tiny pieces oh my god. Like imagine her worrying endlessly about the dynamics of her being music director and how the others will take it and whether she’ll somehow make things awkward out of work so she tries to remove herself. The others just think Joan likes her space and they try to respect it, but then Maggie sees her trying not to cry at the prospect of all the Ladies leaving her alone on Christmas day. She originally assumes Joan is inwardly panicking because she doesn’t WANT to be around so many people on the day and asks if she’d rather they stay home. Joan is very confused and then very overwhelmed when Maggie says that OF COURSE she’s invited and that of course they’d never leave her alone even if she wasn’t invited- Maggie does her best to reassure Joan that everyone absolutely wants her there and once she has Joan sort-of calmed down and ok to be left alone, she calls an emergency meeting of the queens and LiW and they all get together to make clear to Joan that they all adore her and want her with them and absolutely didn’t intend to make her feel on the edge. Joan still struggles with feeling insecure/with worrying that the others are only putting up with her under sufferance, so she struggles over Christmas too because with everyone together, it’s easy for her to feel a bit lost in the shuffle. The others though all make a concerted effort to ensure that they all sort of keep an eye on Joan so she doesn’t end up spiralling- she’s the only one who, if she takes herself away on her own, gets forcibly brought back to join the others because they know that she’s most likely only doing it to out of anxiety that no one will notice.

Thank you so much for the headcanons, they were really good!

[iam93percentstardust]

AU-gust Day 13: Rock Band

Requested by @justsomeoneunordinary for a Winterironhawk AU!

Also on ao3 here

~

Bucky checks his phone as he staggers down the hallway, Clint’s arm wrapped around his waist. Performing always takes a lot out of him and tonight’s show in New York was particularly hard since he and Steve are homeboys and Clint always likes to play that up.

“You doing okay?” Clint asks and then nearly walks right into a trashcan.

Bucky rolls his eyes. For all of Clint’s grace on the stage, he’s far more clumsy off of it. “Maybe I should be asking you that.”

“Hey, that trashcan jumped right out in front of me,” Clint snarks.

“Oh sure and I’ll bet a big green monster even pushed it, right?”

“Boys, boys, settle down,” Nat says idly, twirling her drumsticks like she’s going to hit one of them with it. Bucky wouldn’t put it past her; she’s done so before.

Clint maturely sticks his tongue out at her, eliciting a sigh from Steve, walking a few steps behind them, and a laugh from Sam. Nat just whacks Clint over the head with one of the drumsticks.

Bucky rolls his eyes again and goes back to his phone. Children, he works with children. He’s got one notification, a text from Tony. He grins, unable to resist smiling at the notification. Tony always sends them something during the show. He calls it his good luck selfie. Bucky calls it incentive to hurry back to the hotel room. He opens the text, expecting to see Tony in whatever god-awful city-themed lingerie he’s picked up for this leg of the tour, and instead sees a brief reminder that he and Clint have that interview with Everhart before they’re done for the night.

“Did Tony text us?” Clint asks, hooking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tilts his phone so he can read the message and Clint frowns. “That’s not his usual message.”

“More of those lingerie photos?” Sam asks. Bucky scowls at him. It’s bad enough that Sam accidentally saw one of Tony’s pictures but now he teases them about it after every show like Tony isn’t still the hottest thing they ever saw even when he’s wearing Big Ben panties.

“No,” Clint pouts. “Just some dumb message about that interview we’ve got.”

Sam catches up to them and glances over the message. “Hmm maybe he’s finally wised up and dumped your sorry asses so he can go out with me instead.”

Bucky growls, thrusts his phone into Clint’s chest, and takes off after a cackling Sam all the way down the hall to the room the venue set aside for the interview where he finally catches up to him. He’s giving Sam a noogie when the rest of the band joins them.

“Buck, let Sam go,” Steve orders. The bassist shouldn’t be allowed to give him directions, he laments in his mind but everyone knows that you don’t disobey a Steve order so he drops his arms, holding his hands up in surrender. Sam scrambles away from him to duck behind Nat, who takes one step to the side so she’s no longer hiding him.

“So we’ll see you back at the green room?” Nat asks him and Clint.

“Sure you don’t want to do this interview with us?” Clint asks.

She laughs. “Not on your life.” Fair enough. Everhart always gives them hardball questions so most of the band doesn’t do interviews with her if she doesn’t specifically ask for them and this time she’d only asked for him and Clint.

He passes his guitar off to Steve and then shoulders through the door, Clint right on his heels. Everhart is waiting for them just inside, looking as perfectly polished as ever for someone who just came from a rock concert.

“Ma’am,” he says politely because his ma raised a nice boy and also because it irritates the hell out of Everhart to be referred to like an old lady.

Sure enough she purses her lips and he bites back a grin. He sits down in the seat she waves him into, Clint sitting beside him so he can throw his legs over Bucky’s lap, and asks, “So what did you want to ask us?”

As they expected, Everhart starts them out with small questions and twenty minutes later, they’ve covered just about everything under the sun, from their upcoming album to this tour to their fanbase on Twitter and Bucky’s starting to think that maybe they’re going to get out of this easily when she asks, “So rumors are building again that your relationship is in trouble. What do you have to say to those allegations?”

Bucky scowls and Clint tenses beside him. The problem is, after an entire childhood spent in the spotlight, Tony denounced his claim to his father’s empire, disappeared into the shadows, and declared to his friends that he never wanted to be famous again. Bucky and Clint had never had a problem with it but that had been before the band took off. Afterwards, things had gotten a little more tricky. They still didn’t really have a problem with it and they certainly weren’t going to push Tony to do something he didn’t want to do but it was difficult having to pretend to the world that Bucky and Clint were the couple and Tony was just a friend who tagged along on tour sometimes but otherwise spent most of his time at a Montessori school in Manhattan teaching small children how to read.

They don’t want to push—they don’t—but the distance means that it’s hard sometimes to keep their hands off their other boyfriend in public.

And sometimes they forget that they’re not nobodies anymore and somebody takes a picture of Bucky’s hand lingering on the small of Tony’s back and posts it to Twitter because heaven forbid celebrities have any sort of private life.

“They’re just rumors,” Clint says easily. “We’re touchy feely kind of people.”

“Maybe you’re touchy feely,” Bucky says with a laugh that he doesn’t feel. “I’ve been told I exude fuck off vibes.”

Everhart smiles thinly. “So that’s all it is. Just three friends having a good time?”

“Ma’am, you’ve seen the way Clint and I interact on stage. You really think we could hide another relationship for so long?” Bucky deadpans, challenging her to say something.

She frowns again but doesn’t dispute his claim. Instead she packs up and says, “As always, a pleasure getting to interview you.” As she’s leaving, she pauses in the door to tell them, “You’re not nearly as slick as you think you are. One of you is going to mess up and then your whole faked-for-the-cameras relationship will be over.”

Bucky snarls and lunges at the door, stopped only by Clint grabbing onto him. He hates it when people insinuate that somehow, because he and Clint are happy, they’re faking their relationship for publicity. He and Clint spent enough of their childhoods unhappy because of Bucky’s dad and Clint’s brother; why would they want to spent their adulthood just as miserable?

“It doesn’t matter,” Clint soothes though he has to be irritated as Bucky is. “Come on, we’re going to go back to the rest of the band. We’re going to get drunk on whatever shitty vodka Nat’s brought this time and then we’re going to go back to the hotel and fuck Tony through the mattress.”

It startles a laugh out of Bucky but he’s still not in a great mood by the time they reach the green room. “I just don’t see why she has to say things like that,” he complains as he pushes open the door. “It’s—”

He stops as his gaze falls on the person draped over Nat’s lap. Clint runs into him with an “Oof” and a “Bucky, what the fuck?”

“Tony, doll?” Bucky asks.

Clint exclaims, “Tony?”

Tony launches himself out of Nat’s chair and at Bucky, who immediately catches him up in a kiss. “Hey, my turn, my turn,” Clint protests, pawing at the two of them. “I haven’t seen Tony in six hours either.”

He thinks he hears Nat say, “Disgustingly cute,” but he’s too busy watching Clint and Tony kiss to really care.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, pressing another kiss to Tony’s earlobe. Tony doesn’t usually come to their shows. He tried once not long after their first album came out but he’d been kidnapped one (or twenty) too many times at a big event to really feel comfortable. He had left less than half an hour in and when Bucky and Clint had come back to the hotel that night, they’d found Tony in one of the worst anxiety attacks they’d ever seen him in. They never asked him to come to another show.

“Wanted to support you two since I know how much you hate Everhart,” Tony replies.

“He got here only a few minutes before the show ended,” Steve says. “Sharon drove him.”

Bucky gives a quick nod to Steve’s girlfriend, silently thanking her. “You didn’t have to do that, doll,” he murmurs.

“Hmm missed you too much,” Tony replies. “This tour is too long.”

“Alright, come on, we’re blocking the door,” Clint tells the two of them, walking them backward to one of the couches. He trips over his own feet and practically falls onto the couch, catching Tony before he can fall too. Bucky lands next to them, curling up into Clint’s side.

He catches Nat taking a picture of the three of them and frowns at her. She should know better than to post it. A moment later, his phone chimes with a text from her. Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid, her text reads and he flashes her an apologetic grin. Maybe he’s just little on edge from Everhart.

It chimes again, this time with the picture she’d taken of them. He smiles down at it and makes it his phone’s home screen. It’s a cute picture of them and no one can get into his phone anyway so he’s not worried about someone seeing that.

“You should be paying attention to me,” Tony pouts. “What are you doing?”

He leans over and shows him the picture, brushing a kiss over Tony’s cheek as he does. Tony takes the phone and stares at it before saying, “We’re cute in that. Send it to me.”

“Okay, doll,” he agrees, relaxing into the couch and letting Tony’s warmth bleed into him, relaxing him from the stress of the show and interview.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep 32 S4: Most Disturbing Kid’s Show Award Goes to This Episode

I often talk about how wonderfully effed up Yugioh is. What a freakin delight, how effed up this kid’s show is, somehow still remaining a Y7 kid’s show, despite everything it tries to do to get pulled off the air.

Y’all this was a filler season and it didn’t even have Bakura in it so...why did it go so edge? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for how many levels of “OK THERE, KID’S SHOW��� it was.

But what the hell was that, Yugioh?

Anyway we start off completely normal in this foggy ass graveyard--Halloweens in this season so I’m down for this. Halloween is also...cancelled...this year, so at least I can celebrate it somewhat in a Yugioh episode. Then again, can you imagine how many people would be dressed up as sexy Covid?

So I don’t really talk about the card game mechanics on here, and (full disclosure to any new people) I don’t know how to play this game. But, considering that this card doesn’t usually send you to distant graveyard memories IRL, lets get into it.

We’ve clarified before that Card Graveyard is a place--like an actual place--but that it isn’t the same place that the cards vibe in within the Puzzle necklace. It’s a separate place, but ALSO not the same place as the Shadow Realm, either. Card Graveyard is just...some other third place we never talk about.

TBQH I think the people who make this show have kinda forgotten how many random pocket dimensions we’ve made that are basically the equivalent of hell (including California, PS), and are just like “no one will write a blog about it and list them all in one place, we’ll be fine.”

We’ve only seen Tristan bum out here once in like S1 and he spent most of his time running away from the Grim Reaper. But, if you remember correctly, the Grim Reaper is currently hanging out and living his best life haunting some park in Japan, so now instead of the Grim Reaper it has...this?

So is this a memory stored within the card graveyard, or did Dartz literally take Raphael to the card graveyard and tell him this was a real ass graveyard?

We’ll never know! It gets very vague from here on out!

(read more under the cut)

First off, I’d like to welcome our new guest star--the Rain--there’s a lot of rain in this episode, and we animate it by just making all of our characters glow. This comes through fine in animation, but in caps I just want you to know that no one has gone super Saiyan, they’re just...wet.

PS get a gander at Raphael’s baby boy mutton chop mustache. They somehow got longer with time? And also, when soaked his hair is just as spiky. Everyone on this show has unparalleled hair gel. The real heart of the cards.

Anyway, Dartz shows Raphael a bunch of gravestones and is like “Get it???”

and me, the audience, was like “no???”

The headstones, by the by, aren’t...normal, either, they have Orichalcos symbols on them instead of words. So like...it sort of infers that his family was taken by Orichalcos, too. I mentioned before that it sorta feels like Dartz caused the whole shipwreck to munch up a bunch of yummy souls, and maybe he did in the Japanese version--cuz like...

...why else do all these headstones have Orichalcos symbols on this graveyard that you can only access through a card god like Dartz or Yami?

Just throwing that deep lore out there, and the fact that Raphael can’t really see it or understand is either because that didn’t happen or...Dartz totally killed his family, right? And that makes this relationship between the two of them extremely effed up?

This is a great show for kids with separation anxiety.

Which is...somewhat convincing of a motive for Raphael. He gives Raphael a way to move on from his trauma in the past, and it’s not a GREAT way to move on--but it’s falls in line with things Dartz has done with his other card generals by offering false redemption.

Like Mai needed to move on from her insane jealousy, so Orichalcos was her way to prove she was better than Joey Wheeler (which, honestly, no one needed proof of). Alister needed to move on from his dead brother, so Orichalcos was his way to get revenge. Valon also had a backstory but a bunch of it got deleted in the English version apparently so...

And Rex and Weevil needed...cards? I guess? I think they just needed a ride, mostly. And Orichalcos can give you a ride. It’s not like we had Uber in 2003 and clearly they were not fit for Caltrain.

And like Gurimo.............existed...?

Anyways, they’re looking for justice that they can see. Justice for their pain. To make that pain worth something for more than just suffering. A system where this type of thing can’t happen anymore. But the thing about justice is that...eh...it’s probably not done through cards that kill people.

OH OK, KID’S SHOW.

Mmmmm take in that burying up your grave imagery. Again, this show is rated Y7 for 7 year olds, and I think that’s amazing.

Anyway, this is symbolism that is so heavy handed that it really needs no explanation, so he’s just gonna dig dig dig for...days I guess? Relive his trauma over and over again? Dig up that past like you’re a popular artist on twitter and you gotta make all of your followers relive that time you got called out because you offended a hell ton of people?

(Which is so many people on art twitter right now, ps, you don’t even know which one I’m talking about because It’s SO MANY of them. Art twitter during Quarantine is like watching the fall of Rome but it’s freakin Art Twitter. Everyone’s the freakin worst and just poopin all over themselves as they roll all the way down the steps.)

But I want to know. Who’s grave this is? It has a slightly different meaning if it were his family’s or his own. I guess I’ll have to save it for the fanfiction.

And so to add another level of spook, Raphael’s card mom shows up and kinda just stands there with a sad face?

Raphael’s reaction to seeing his card just alive and hanging out was “I’ll get to you in a sec, I gotta do some unforgivable evil, first.“

WHERE DID THEY GO?

These two shots are like nearly back to back. They’re just GONE. No explanation.

And yes I’m gonna talk about the outfit because it makes no freakin sense, even for a Yugioh card. Granted, this was a show made in Japan, for kids, with a budget that had a limit. A lot of people get involved with these productions, many aren’t artists or historians versed in American History, just basic ass business people. That be TV.

But her outfit looks waaay too modern. Like she’s gonna go to a musical festival, drop acid and climb on top of a statue and take a bunch of instagram selfies and regret all of them 4 years later. If these are Atlantean cards, this is not an Atlantis outfit to match with Dartz, who has been dressed vaguely medieval. So whyyyyy would this girl be dressed more like a vague old western costume bought at a discount so she could vogue in front of installation art at Burning Man in 2008?

Anyway, I won’t even get into the bird that is slowly devouring her face as a stand in for a headdress or wtv. Just a lot of stuff happening here and I just wanna say, Yugioh did it so you won’t need to. Just delete that desire. Yugioh already did it so you are now free from wanting to draw...anything like this problematic situation on your own OCs.

And then Yugioh predicts exactly how I’d feel about this outfit.

And she then lights ON FIRE and falls dead into the grave he just buried for her.

And in case you were like “kinda on the nose there, Yugioh, that got DARK” she climbs out of his own grave with a spooky ass face and no more coconuts to share with her bros and he’s like...

Rapheal’s reaction was like...Ya OK I can get used to this, and Yami is just pointing at the scene desperately trying to follow Raphael’s brain waves.

And like, this is YAMI.

Yami just walked through Yugi Hell earlier today. He’s seen some stuff. He’s already undug his own grave this morning in a more poetic card sort of way. But Raphael’s memories of literally digging up his family’s graves with his bare hands because Dartz told him to was...stuff he didn’t want to see today. (especially since it’s super suggested Dartz was the one who...murdered them in the first place, like I know it’s a reach but...it just feels like we were supposed to reach that conclusion)

But whether or not Dartz put the bodies here or gave Raphael a bunch of phoney graves, Raphael is still essentially siding with the guy who ruined the only thing he has left of his family--this paper card mom--and turned it into an undead evil Mom. And it just had...no freakin impact on Raphael at all.

Like what?

He just murdered your card mom. This is fine?

Card shenanigans continue and Raphael eventually realizes what he should have realized like 10 years ago when he was digging up graves and killing card Mom’s. That maybe it’s a bad idea. So Raphael decides to sacrifice his remaining monsters to “free” them from the graveyard and basically commits suicide. There’s no other way to say it, really. He kills himself.

But wait, right when you figure this episode will end like every other Orichalcos fight before it...They decide not to.

Like an angel from heaven, our drunk ass looking music concert reject descends from the clouds, along with all of Raphael's dead family members!

Yeah.

I REALLY didn’t expect them to show up. This was so much content it’s like...an entire season of any other TV show. I say that a lot with Yugioh but these episodes really like to just jam-pack it in there.

And here I thought I’d actually have to take them off the Death Count one day. Here I thought 4 kids would do something to like...prevent this many dead kids, but I was wrong.

Everyone’s HELLA DEAD.

it’s both vindicating to actually say that, despite 4kids, these kids absolutely died, but also disturbing because even Raphael is like “ah, the hallucinations today are really swell, right?”

NO, GHOST CHILD.

DON’T TELL ME THAT.

And I’ve been over before how “heart of the cards” is a catch-all phrase that can mean literally anything in this show, and it’s not the first time that cards have kept someone’s spirit around. No word on his family members if they are thrilled to be trapped in a Pharaoh situation, or whether they only occasionally drop from the heavens, or whether they have actually been the spirit that was within each of these cards the whole time. I don’t know.

And so the card family “cures” one of the most evil people on this show.

He’s fine now. This guy murdered the hell out of Yugi, our main character, but don’t think nor worry about it. This isn’t the show to worry about such things.

This show has Marik.

Bro and I were talking Star Wars the other day, and mostly about the Kylo Ren arc and how a lot of people happened to dislike that particular ending. Mostly about how there is a difference between your character being redeemed and being forgiven. I think this children’s show wants to redeem Raphael, but honestly, much like Kylo Ren--he’s just forgiven. And that’s fine. You don’t need to have your characters redeemed. We can stop at forgiveness.

And also, Yami forgives him immediately because he knows he can’t throw a single damn stone, his house is made out of 2 mm of extremely problematic glass.

Man, RIP Weevil, right?

Weevil who just pretended to rip up a card that could have been Yugi and got tossed off the freakin Caltrain? Raphael got off so freakin lucky and I am boggled he’s still alive. He freakin killed Yugi!

The injustice to Weevil right now, omg. Not like I enjoy Weevil. I super don’t enjoy that character. But DAMN. Yami murdered Weevil for even mentioning Yugi. Just feels like there’s a bit of a hypocritical line here in how the justice is dished out and...that tracks for a Pharaoh so I’ll just let it go.

And also, looking at that sunshine and I’m pretty sure they’ve been up over 48 straight hours. No one’s slept since Yugi died, right? I mean Yami is fine. We know from Bakura that puzzle people don’t need to sleep, or eat, or have blood in their body. But like Seto really needs to get Mokuba to bed.

(Although I am 85% positive that Mokuba is still part Noah Kaiba so it is...also unlikely that kid sleeps anymore, just leaving Mokuba’s future therapist so much to unpack.)

The GALL of this show right now.

Of all the generals--they saved RAPHAEL? Arguably the worst one?

I would take even Alister. I would take even Weevil.

Raphael?

I mean if he ends up as the next Duke Devlin, just driving us around for the final season of this show I guess I’ll accept this but, damn.

Raphael?

Are you sure, Yugioh???????????????????????????????????

Can’t we just let that guy die? He’s basically dead already, Yugioh. This guy does NOT want to be alive anymore. Literally everyone he cares about is super dead and now he doesn’t even have Card mom because she sacrificed herself to save his soul. This GUY.

I can’t believe Mai is dead but we still have Raphael.

The same disappointment when I watch British Bake off, man, they just...sometimes they save people and I’m like...no man...that one can’t bake. Just because they pulled something off last second does not mean they get to the semifinals. Raphael can’t bake.

Anyway, the episode attempts to end on a cliffhanger but like.

Just want to reiterate how common and boring Earthquakes usually are to a Californian. This was the most normal thing in this episode.

Man.

Freakin Raphael.

Anyway, if you just got here and is like “I don’t know who the hell Raphael even is,” Yeah, I know, I didn’t think twice about the dude until like just now, but if it’s because you’ve never seen my recaps before, I’ll direct you to the link to read these in Chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

Anyway, stay safe and have a very happy and safe Halloween alone eating your own carmel dipped apple slices.

[purplesurveys]

1236

survey by lasertine

10 How's

How did you get one of your scars? I keep recounting the story of my eyebrow scar, so I’ll share something else...I have several scars on both my knees since I was the neighborhood’s clumsiest kid and ALWAYS tripped/stumbled when I played outside. I used to be extremely insecure of my legs, but started to stop caring as I gradually noticed that no one really gives a shit about scars from childhood accidents.

How did you celebrate your last birthday? I went to work, being the workaholic I am. I only celebrated in the evening, when I bought a week’s worth of food for my family and I to feast on. I was honestly fine with it; it was exactly how I wanted my birthday to go as I’ve stopped wanting to make a big deal out of it haha.

How are you feeling at this moment? Weirdly relaxed for a Sunday. The gloomy and cozy weather is probably helping with that.

How did your night go last night? As a fangirl, good! Got lots of new content which is always fun. As a person (lol), it was just fine. I like being able to recharge on weekends and I can never really complain even if I don’t end up doing anything productive.

How did you do in high school? I was a bit all over the place. I exerted some level of effort in my favorite classes but didn’t really do the same for subjects I didn’t care for as much, like home ec, chemistry, math, etc; but on average I managed to get good grades all throughout. Overall, I kinda acknowledged very early on that high school grades weren’t going to matter in the real world so I didn’t make it a point to overexert myself and just focused on having fun and making fond memories in those teen years.

How did you get the shirt you're wearing? I got it from Artwork, a local brand that sells various apparel sporting designs produced by local artists. The branch I got it from has since shut down but I believe the brand is still alive and well.

How often do you see your best friend? I used to see Angela once in a blue moon mainly because our schedules always clashed back when we were still students, but ever since forming our little Army friend group with Reena I’ve been seeing her nearly every week.

How much money did you spend last month? LOL June was actually my worst and most shameful performance when it came to spending...let’s move on...

How old do you want to be when you get married? Kinda happen it would happen by the time I’m in between the ages of 28 and 30, kind of losing hope on it.

How old will you be at your next birthday? 24.

NINE What’s

What is the most important part of your life? I’ve said this several times but it’s really work. I’m aware of my weaknesses at my job and I want nothing more than to improve on those just because my perfectionist ass can’t bear being bad at something I’m supposed to be contributing to lol.

What did you do last weekend? Last Saturday I  watched BTS’ concert in Sao Paulo and had my first session at my Korean class. Last Sunday I mostly chilled at home but I also went to Starbucks to work for a bit but to also just relax before the week started.

What did you last cry over? Watching Angela and Reena’s graduation ceremony this afternoon. It’s hilarious because I didn’t even cry during and was mostly indifferent towards my own grad, but I surprised myself by breaking into tears while watching theirs. I’m guessing the emotions simply welled up from me being very grateful for our friendship, which formed when I needed it the most.

What are you worried about? I always get Monday anxiety on Sundays, so let’s go with that.

What is your mother’s name? Abby.

What always makes you feel better when you’re upset? BTS, for one.

What would you rather be doing? It’s not a matter of what I would rather be doing, but where I would rather be. And right now, I wish I was back on a Friday evening with the weekend just about to start.

What’s the most important thing you look for in a significant other? Patience.

What did you have for breakfast? My mom cooked up a feast for today’s breakfast for no reason - we had fried rice, tocino, I think bangus(?) and if not bangus then it was some other kind of fish, corned beef, cheese omelette, glazed ham, bacon strips, and the leftover chicken wings from last night’s dinner.

EIGHT Have You’s

Have you ever done something outrageously dumb? I probably do something of the sort at least once a day.

Have you ever had sex on the beach? No. I think I might feel uncomfortable doing so, even if you told me it would be a private beach lol. 

Have you ever been backstabbed by a friend? Yes.

Have you ever been out of the country? Yup, but it’s been a while. :( I haven’t traveled abroad since 2016.

Have you ever dated someone younger than you? It barely counts; she was only like a month and half younger.

Have you ever liked someone who already had somebody? That hasn’t happened.

Have you ever been brokenhearted? Of course.

Have you ever read an entire book in one day? Many times.

SEVEN Who’s:

Who is the last person you saw? My dad. He was watching the evening news in his room when I heard the report playing Permission to Dance so I rushed in there to see what the news was going to be about, hahahaha.

Who is the last person that you texted? ...also my dad. I was just asking him where he was since I had been craving chapaguri the other day and was gonna request if he can quickly pass by the Korean mart near our village. He never replied so I just cooked the instant noodles that we have at home, which in hindsight was I guess for the better because at least I got to save the money I would’ve paid him with.

Who called you last? The Lalamove driver I mentioned on the previous survey.

Who is the last person you hung out with? Angela, Reena, and Hans.

Who did you hug last? Angela, right before I left from her place last Tuesday.

Who is the last person that texted you? Not sure.

Who was the las person you said "I love you" to? Yumi, when I congratulated her on her graduation post.

SIX Where’s:

Where does your best friend live? The city next to mine.

Where is your favorite place to be? Either a coffee shop or our rooftop.

Where did you sleep last night? My bed.

Where did you last hang out? Mega with the three aforementioned friends.

Where do/did you go to school? UP.

Where did you last adventure to? ...Mega. So repetitive hahaha but I don’t really go out much these days for obvious reasons.

FIVE Do’s/Does:

Do you ever wish you were someone else? Not someone else in particular but I will sometimes daydream about having a different reality/situation, like being able to play an instrument or being more capable of affording more things.

Do you think anyone despises you? Possibly.

Do you like someone right now? Nopes.

Does the future scare you? It doesn’t scare me so much as it’s increasingly starting to make me feel lonelier whenever I start thinking about it.

Do you have any secret powers? Erm, no.

FOUR Why’s:

Why are you best friends with your best friend(s)? They’ve both been there through the thick and the thin and the ugly with me and have never once left my side.

Why did your parents give you the name you have? As for both my names, they just liked the sound of them.

Why did you get a myspace? Because I noticed it was popular and I wanted to see what the fuss was about.

Why are you doing this survey? Countdown surveys are always a fun format.

THREE If’s:

If you could have one super power what would it be? Time travel.

If you could go back in time and change one thing, would you? If it comes down to it, as irresistible as it seems, probably not.

If you could live anywhere, where would it be? Somewhere with winter/snow.

Two Would-you-ever’s:

Would you ever shave your head to save someone you love? I’m struggling to think how that can action save someone, but I guess if it ever does boil down to it then yeah, in a heartbeat. It grows back and if the situation was that drastic, hair would be the least of my concerns.

Would you ever get back together with any of your exes if they asked you? Depends.

Last one:

Are you happy with how your life has turned out? Very.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #445

“you’ve got a lot of nerve, but not a lot of spine”

Have you ever created a fake internet persona for yourself? No. Do you enjoy going to weddings or showers? What is it that you like or dislike about them? Not... really. They're triggering for me. And I don't use "trigger" lightly. They legitimately, deeply affect me. It's part of the reason I've lost a lot of interest in being a wedding photographer. Is there a person in your life whom you support by showing up for the sports games, concerts, or other performances? This question, uh... sucks. Because I'm that awful aunt that doesn't go to her nephew's t-ball games while everyone else does. It's the heat that does it, but still... it shouldn't. How many video games do you have? A lot. We have a big case of them. Why did you take the last pill you took? My heartburn is especially awful today. Has a girl ever stayed up with you all night? A guy? A girl, uhhh... maybe? Idk. A guy, yeah. Do you think guys look good with makeup? Hell yeah. How long would you wait to become sexually active with someone you’re dating? That would just depend on how quickly we deeply bond in a relationship. I wouldn't go that far before I knew I was in love with them, though, so it definitely wouldn't be quick. Do you enjoy a good debate or prefer keeping the peace? klasd;jkla;jfklwdj I HATE confrontation, so I strongly prefer to keep that peace. Debates rarely ever stay civil, anyway. Can you ever see yourself and your ex back together? One, easily. The other... I wish. But it won't ever happen because I fucked that relationship up way too much. Are you thinking about anything that’s upsetting right now? Yeah. My PTSD is being really bothersome. Would you ever want to ride in a canoe? Yeah, sounds fun and peaceful. So long as I'm not rowing, ha ha. When did you last see an attractive member of your preferred sex? Did you speak to them? Do you think you’ll see them again? Two days ago. Yeah, 'cuz he was my personal trainer. I don't plan on quitting the gym, so I'll probably see him around there now and again. Have you ever tasted baby food? How about pet food? Save for when I was a baby, obviously, no. I once tried a guinea pig yogurt treat, ha ha. How many times have you had your heart broken? Once romantically, twice overall. Actually, no, four. Quite a jump, I know, but Teddy and Jason's mom both dying was nothing short of heartbreaking. Think of the person you fell hardest for. How many people has he/she been in love with, besides you? One, before me. I don't know about since. Find 5 people on your Facebook friends list, whose names begin with K. Who are these people, and how did you meet them? Katherine: an online friend. We met on YouTube. Kim: she's my stepmom. I met her through my dad, obviously. Kelly: a high school friend. We met in art class. Katelynn: was Jason's old friend's former girlfriend. We met through said friend when we all hung out together. Kieley: she's the wife of who I call my "big bro," a close gaming friend. We met through Sam, the aforementioned friend. Sometimes do you wish you lived in a fantasy world? Yeah, who doesn't? What would you say if the ex who hurt you the most told you they hated you? "I don't blame you" or something to that effect. Have any of your friends dated an ex/previous crush of yours? I don't think it's accurate to call her my "friend," but Jason's first girlfriend and I are friends on Facebook. I'd love to get to know her better and actually be *real* friends. One word to describe the last person you kissed? Strong. Has anyone ever cheated on their boyfriend/girlfriend with you? You could say that. Does your hair have layers? No, not anymore. Who was the last person you cried in front of? My mom. Have you done something recently that helped someone else, in any way? I don't know. Which Disney princess do you think is the most beautiful? Why? Probably Jasmine. I just think she's really pretty. If you’ve had a bad experience in a past relationship, did you find that you were scared to get into another relationship, in case the same thing happened again? I'm terrified to this day to start new romantic relationships. I had so many panic attacks about losing Sara when we first started dating. If you were going to buy a present for the person you love/like, what would you generally choose? Absolutely something Frieza-related. If you met the celebrity that you most admire, what would be the first thing you’d say to him/her? Probably just "oh my god, thank you" and start crying lmao. Is there something you generally always ask for help with? I'm sure there's something, yeah. When was the last time you cried? Today. Do you like sausage? Yep. Ever held a newborn animal? Kittens, yes. Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? Uhhhh maybe? Have you been called a bad influence? Yeah. Like she had ANY room to talk. Do you get stage fright? Yes. Would you be excited or annoyed if your favorite book was being made into a movie? Both of my favorite books are also movies, and they're wonderful. Do you need structure in your life or do you prefer to just go with the flow? I require structure, for sure. Without it, my anxiety goes rampant. Change is something I do not cope with well. Post a picture of you from one year ago. No. Have you ever written a fan letter? If so, who was it to and did you receive a response? No. What trait(s) would you not want your children to inherit from you? My mental illnesses, primarily depression. I have A LOT of reasons for not wanting kids, and my poor genetic makeup is even one of them. I don't want to pass on all the shit I deal with. What is the worst place you’ve woken up? Waking up in a shitty bed at the ER while waiting to be transferred was never one of my favorite things... Are you the type of person who has to study to make good grades or does it just come naturally to you? Aha... I was lucky in that once I heard something in school, it had a tendency to stick. I didn't need to study very much at all - usually. When on YouTube, what types of videos do you mainly watch? Mostly let's plays. What was the last conversation you had with someone about? Sara and I were kinda fangirling over how cute Maieykio and Rumours are, ha ha. Do you have any currency that’s not your native country’s? No. Can you describe your father in one word? Complex. Do you still watch movies intended for children? Yeah. Hell, I probably tend to prefer them. Who is your favorite stand-up comedian? That's living, probably Gabriel Iglesias. What is your strangest phobia? Probably whale sharks. Which part of your state/province do you live in [upper,lower,middle]? I live on the eastern side. Who in your life can you count on the most? My mama. Would you rather eat your pizza cold or hot? It depends on what I'm up for. Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? No, I'm not a fan. Last thing you drank? Pink lemonade. Have you ever thought you were going to marry someone? Sure did. The belief was clearly mutual. But I ruined that. Who are your favorite people to talk to when you’re down? Sara or my mom. Have you ever thought you liked someone, and then found out that you really didn’t? See: Girt. Describe the last dream you had that you can remember. It was actually... really fucked up, so the squeamish beware. I don't remember the details, just the shocking part: a little bird flew into me, and I thought it was a bug, so I crushed it in my hand. Heard and felt the bones break and it was just... ugh. It's nauseating to recall. I'm sick and tired of dreaming of only awful things. Any current family issues? Not any big ones that include everyone. The only "issue" that really exists in my family is how my mom feels like Ashley (my older sister) avoids her, and therefore Mom doesn't see the kids nearly as much as she wants. She feels very overlooked. Whose room of the opposite sex were you in last? When? Uhhh, probably my nephew's? Sometime when I visited my sister's house, idk. The last movie you watched with a friend? Elf, I think. Have you ever played with fire? Uh no, because I'm not keen on being burned. What industry do you want to be a part of when you’re older? Art, in some form. Who do you usually text the most? Since Sara and I started chatting mainly on Discord, definitely my mom. Have you ever been surprised with breakfast in bed? No. Llamas or sheep? Sheep. Have you ever seen anyone famous in the street? No. When do you plan on moving out? Whenever I'm in a long-term, stable, happy, and healthy relationship. I really don't at all think it would be healthy for me to live on my own. What’re you going to be for Halloween? I'd actually love to dress up this year seeing as I've really been feeling the holidays, but the money to like... make a recognizable costume isn't really with us. So I'll ust answer as if I had it, in which case it would be a handmaid from The Handmaid's Tale, but with fake blood splattered over my stomach region. Will you buy a cake for your next birthday? We always do for b-days. Do you like brownies? BITCH I love brownies. Have you ever dressed up as a witch on Halloween? Yeah, as a kiddo. Have you ever been to a masquerade? No. Do any girls like the last guy you kissed? Maybe, I don't know. Do you have a second mom? I have a stepmom, if that's what you mean. When a bee is coming close to you, do you stand still or run away? Ngl, I gtfo. Do you ever hang out with someone of the opposite sex? I haven't hung out with Girt in around a year. Really need to change that. When you go out to eat, what sides do your order with your food? Fries. What is your winter coat like? ... I actually don't know if I have one? Did you do well at fitness testing in grade school? I did fine. Are art museums interesting or boring to you? Interesting. Inspiring, even. Do you know how to use an ATM? ... No. :x How about write a check? uhhhhhhhhhhh... Are you Italian? Not to my knowledge, no. We don't know my dad's heritage. When was the last time you talked to one of your siblings? I commented on one of my sister's Facebook posts earlier. Are you interested in photography at all? Very much so. Do you own an acoustic guitar? I don't believe so? Ashley had one when she was waaaay younger, but I haven't seen it in forever. I think Dad might have it. Can you talk to your parents about anything without them judging or bickering at you? Because you said "bickering," no. Mom knows how to pick fights on a lot of things... Who was the last person you took pictures with? My sister when she came to visit a few months ago. What is the wallpaper on your best friend's cell phone? I'd be willing to bet it's either her and Jem or Frieza. Do you melt butter to put on your popcorn? No. We get the movie theater butter kind. Do you consider flirting cheating? Sure do. Have you ever been on probation? No. What is normally on your Christmas list (if you celebrate it)? A tattoo and meerkat stuff. Do you like KoRn? They're one of my favorites! When you were little, did you pick up worms? Do you pick worms up now? Ha, I did. I would sometimes dig just to look for them, especially if I knew Dad was going to take me fishing later that day. I don't like touching worms nowadays. Would you ever go see a stand-up comedian? Yeah, I think it would be fun. Do you have any best friends that you only know online? BEST friends, not current ones, anyway. I've met my current best friend. Have you ever gotten into a physical fight? Nope. Do you have a problem with swearing? No. What do you do when you see a spider? My reactions vary. If it's a tiny little thing, I tend to ignore it. In most cases, admittedly, I get my mom to come kill it. :x I really, really want to get on a level where I can just cup the spider and take it outside. I want a few types of spiders one day (tarantulas, jumping, and velvet), after all, so I really should get used to interacting with them. I know in my gut they're nowhere near as dangerous and scary as your head makes them seem, but it's so instilled in you (most "you"s, anyway) from a young age to stay away from spiders, so it's fighting almost like instinct. Do you have big dreams? Meh... When is your father’s birthday? Sometime in April. The 16th, I think? Maybe. Are you interested in anime? Yeah. They can have some great stories. Do you eat three meals a day? Most days. Are you part German? German and Irish make up most of my heritage, yes. Do you dream of being a porn star? Uh, I can confidently say no. Have you ever been on a farm? I have. What is your favorite type of muffin? Blueberry, I think. I like the moisture it adds to the muffin. What is the last type of salad that you ate? Just your normal one with iceberg lettuce and ranch. What do you usually put on your waffles? A layer of peanut butter and then some syrup. You NEED to try it. Would you rather have a cottage on the beach or in a forest? A forest! Name all the people that you talked to today. Online, through texts and in person. Mom and Misty are all, I think. Do you know a schizophrenic person? My half-sister. Did you ever watch Sailor Moon? If so, who is your favorite? I did. I don't think I had a favorite character. Name the last 3 people you kissed and list one nice thing about each one. Sara: she's very loyal. Girt: he's funny as hell. Tyler: he, uh, cares a lot, I guess? When was the last time you felt EXTREMELY depressed? Why is that? Yesterday, actually. I was passively suicidal just over... a lot of things. Would you ever dye your hair pink? I want pastel pink hair anyway.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Twice Fallen

I implore thy loving kindness,

that even as thou didst stand beside thy dear Son as He hung upon the Cross,

so wilt thou also stand by me,

a poor sinner?

guardian demon! Jimin x reader

word count: 6.2k (the longest 6.2k of my life)

genre: angst, romance, comedy, supernatural, drama, slow-burn

Related Works: See Masterlist under Guardian Demon!Jimin

A/N: There’s a lot of Catholicism and religious things going on because well... Angels and demons LOL This is all a work of fiction inspired from real places so that’s my disclaimer here. Also it’s like...half edited xD Other than that....NAE PI TTAM NUNMUL

As the days went on, you become more riddled with an anxiousness that had overtaken every nerve in your body as a multitude of thoughts swirl around your head like an endless whirlpool. First and foremost of course, was the fact that you had exactly five days before you and your friend were due to fly out to attend the BTS concert. That alone was enough to put you in a loop, it had made you so restless that you had gone out of your way to ask co-workers if they could cover your shift — a needless attempt; you knew you were only trying to trick yourself into thinking those were your only first world problems. You shouldn’t have been as surprised when Emily had told you she had already agreed to take your shift once you came around to asking her.

“You asked me that like last week.” She had laughed good-naturedly, patting you on the shoulder in a sympathetic way. “Now I really think you need those days off if you’re starting to lose your memory like this.”

You really don’t have any memory of this though.

But it wasn’t hard to recall Jimin’s words of him promising you that he would make this trip work, no matter what. Not that you had doubted his abilities, but it’s never like you to leave everything up to one person (supernatural or not); you blame the many botched group projects in college you’ve been through for that. More so, you have come to realize, is that a small part of you had done it in hopes of being able to do something for Jimin that would repay even a fraction of what he’s doing for you. This was probably a small, insignificant thing in comparison but it was something you had some semblance of control over that didn’t necessarily require any otherworldly intervention. You should’ve known it was a losing battle from the start.

With that being said, any thoughts of the aforementioned guardian demon these days automatically leads you back to the conversation you had with Jungkook. It hasn’t faded since those three days ago, merely sitting on the back of your mind and only growing in size. You catch yourself spacing out a few times just thinking about all sorts of things that involve him.

Like maybe —  actually — giving up your soul to him.

….Yeah that was quite the conclusion you came to but you can almost pin point the exact moment when you did. It came to you when you had spilled your guts about Jimin to Jungkook on that rooftop garden; never having been able to put into words your honest thoughts about him until the other demon had practically cornered you into doing it. Despite the embarrassment threatening to consume you whole, it was eye opening for you in which you’ve accepted that the only way you can come close to repaying Jimin was to give up your life to him or at least promise it in due time and… you’re okay with that idea.

Weird and concerning, rightfully so but it’s like the half of you that thinks this is utterly mad and the other, more nihilistic side of you had come into terms with one another in the form of one sole agreement that if it had to be any demon, better it be him right?

As they say, you’re only here for a good time, not a long time.

You exhale through your nose in a quiet huff of laughter, subtle enough that the lady passing by behind you doesn’t pay you any notice as you’re restocking the jewellery racks. Today is one of those rare moments that you’re given a task out on the floor away from cash for once and though you’re elated at being able to do something else for a change, your thoughts don’t revolve around whether or not you can fit just one more pair of earrings on this already overstuffed looking hook.

Even if you had settled on the idea of giving your soul to Jimin, the most important question is how? Theoretically, it seems simple enough, at least what you’re picturing in your head — you tell him you want to do it, he says yes and then gets you to sign it away in agreement in whatever form the contract is (maybe something similar to your contract with him now but altered? Who knows). Or maybe in your complete lack of knowledge in demonology, it’s way more complex than that. You could technically ask Jungkook…

Would that even be a good idea? You’re not sure, especially not after the talk you had with him — keeping that ‘good’ head of yours in tact and whatnot. But then again, you’re not entirely sure what he meant by it anyways. You pause your train of thought until a heaving sigh escapes past your lips, your shoulder deflating as your lips purse into a thin line when you realize; you don’t even have any means to contact Jungkook. He’s more of an entity who comes and goes with nothing to tether him to this world, so he’s expressed he’s never had the need for things like a mobile device.

Which means your other option for getting any type of information on this would be from the main demon himself; Jimin.

Except for two things.

One: how does one broach the topic of forfeiting their own soul over to their guardian demon? You suppose it’s not exactly an ‘over dinner’ sort of conversation. The closest thing to a timing you had in mind would be after the concert; fitting in a way where you get your wish fulfilled and now you must pay the price owed.

However, that leads you to two; you don’t have a single clue where the guardian demon in question had gone off to. The last you saw of him was when he had walked you home those nights ago and from then, you haven’t heard from him since. You’ve tried shooting another text and hell, even pushed aside your anxiety and pride to call him for the first time ever, only to receive no response for either occasion; just radio silence. And it’s not even on the matter of telling him you’re willing to give your soul up for him — he still hasn’t told you what your flight, where your tickets or your hotel is!

You force yourself to breathe in deeply before exhaling slowly. Relax, you still technically have time, you try to reassure yourself. Not as much as you want for not knowing some important travel details, but enough that you’d still be able to set off without a hitch.

You trust Jimin.

He hasn’t let you down yet, nor do you think he will any time soon.

You’re confident.

-

Rome, Vatican City

A sigh involuntarily escapes the demon’s lips as he takes in the view in front of him, having not imagined that he would be here, of all places after so many years. The city is alive even if it is late into the night, the piazza lit up to cast a romantic glow on the cobble streets as crowds of people continue to stroll around in leisure. It should be no surprise though; the mild spring weather is well under way here, so much that Jimin thinks it might even be above seasonal. That doesn’t stop him from wearing the long, black overcoat over his airy chiffon button down shirt and the way it billows out behind him as he strides down this Italian street has people turning heads thinking he should be in Milan rather than here, much less how warm he must be feeling underneath it.

It pulls a small smile from him, a small distraction from his purpose here and a last ditch effort to put himself in a better mood before he has to put on a cloaking spell, hiding him from any mortal eyes. Before long, Jimin is upon the entrance to the grand circular plaza. In the centre of it, he spots the unmistakable shape of the Egyptian obelisk, the tall monument sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the Roman-Catholic structures surrounding it. Strangely enough, the more he stared at it, the more Jimin begins to feel in-like with the structure — a nameless fixture in history that eventually had its roots erased, “christianized” and erected by some old fart named Pope Sixtus V to celebrate the triumph of the Church over paganism.

Ugh.

At least it was a witness to St. Peter’s crucification (or so it was apparently said).

Jimin rolls his neck, a twitch in the muscle that had it stiffen uncomfortably before he exhales loudly through his nose.

Right.

He reminds himself to be mindful of where he is, of what he’s about to do. He may have a get out of jail free card but it won’t be nearly enough credentials to win any favours here. So Jimin steels himself, squaring his shoulders and with much more effort than he wants to admit, he begins to make his way across the plaza into a demon’s lion den. He takes care in keeping pace, steps unfaltering and gaze hardened in resolution. Jimin maneuvers inconspicuously through the lingering crowds of tourist and locals alike with the grace of a seasoned dancer but no matter how much he ducks and weaves, he cannot escape the burning sensation of being watched like an ant under a magnifying glass by the figures that seem to close in on him with every step he takes to the basilica.

All 140 of them.

And they all seem to whisper in their harrowing voices, the same obtrusive word in his ear.

Demon.

Jimin is clenching his jaw and fists by the time he reaches the grandiose staircase, his nails digging into his clammy palms until they leave deep crescent indents. A ragged exhales passes his lips, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding until now and it makes him chastise himself. He passed the Apostolic Palace just fine, not even a single sign of getting smote. If he’s breaking out into a cold sweat from a little bit of verbal intimidation here, then what good is he by the time he has to go inside?

Jimin’s eyes slide up to take in the building that has become one of the most symbolic landmark in the religious world and the reason for his odd visit to a place he should be avoiding at all cost.

The Papal Basilica of St. Peter in the Vatican, or otherwise simply known as St. Peter’s Basilica.

Its dome shape roof looms above him, an imposing shadow even if it is lit by a multitude of beams of spotlights along its base and all around the facade — the lights only adding to its size. Doesn’t help that at either ends of the steps are the statues of St. Paul with his golden sword and St. Peter, the man himself, as if they’re there to personally greet all those who enter this holy space; whether with open arms or a strike of sword in His name, Jimin is not sure.

The basilica is closed to the public, the hours of which it is open has long since passed but despite that, Jimin waits, fixed in his spot as he simply stares unseeingly, a myriad of events all leading up to this very moment passing before his eyes.

-

“I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen.” Jungkook states sternly after he knocks back his drink. He places his glass down on the sleek black marble bar top a little too roughly. For once, Jimin refrains from commenting, not wanting to anger the young demon who no doubt, has zero tolerance for banter right now. As they say, let sleeping tigers lie. So Jimin straightens more in his seat, giving Jungkook his full attention.

“First, you must seek the one who has been given the keys of the kingdom of heaven by His Holiness — the gatekeeper, St. Peter, at the place where he is buried. He will be your witness and judge.”

-

With a deep inhale, Jimin lets the cloaking spell encase him like a thin, dark veil and after releasing his breath, he finally takes his first steps upwards towards the basilica. The closer he gets, the heavier his feet seems to feel as if a weight is pushing down on him but he persists until he reaches the tall iron gate of the entrance. If he cranes his neck, he can just make out the relief of St. Peter being handed the keys by Jesus carved into the stone, below the central window where no doubt the pope had made his appearance to the masses. For the first time in his life, Jimin feels immensely smaller as he stands in-between the columns, their height seemingly never-ending as if they are reaching heaven itself.

He vehemently tears his gaze away, teeth chewing at his bottom lip as he works to loosen his muscles that have gone tense. It’s like his own body has developed a mind of its own and is screaming at him to leave, get away. But he pushes those warnings aside and within a few strides, he finds himself passing the threshold and into the atrium. Even though it’s only the entrance hall, he can already feel the grandeur of the basilica from its high dome ceilings and archways. Within this singular space, it embodies the old and new in its walls as ancient inscriptions and plaques commemorating popes who had seen the construction of this holy building and in the fine marble floor as coat of arms. To the right at the end of the portico, is the statue of Emperor Constantine and to the left is Charlemagne, both on noble steeds carved out of white marble that seem like they’ll come to life at any moment.

Jimin’s jaw clench and unclenches, a nervous tick as he surveys his surroundings and with a sweep of his dark eyes, they land on a pair of bronze double doors.

-

“When you enter the atrium, you will find five bronze doors; The Door of Death, The Door of Good and Evil, The Door of the Sacraments, The Central Door, and The Holy Door. You must past through ‘The Holy Door’ to evoke the passage from sin to grace — to show your willingness to make peace with God, restore what has been damaged in yourself and reshape your heart.”

-

It’s not hard to figure out which door Jungkook was referring to. As he stops just before them, Jimin can see the pictures in each panel along the length of it, depicting various scenes of man’s sin and his redemption through God’s mercy. His eyes trail from the infamous disobedience of Adam and Eve to Christ’s Baptism in the Jordan. They linger on The Need for Forgiveness for a while longer than he intended.

Just how forgiving can God be? Jimin wonders.

For all the times he’s heard angels preach about His benevolence, can God extend that mercy to even a demon?

Well, Jimin huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, God had forgiven man after all and he thinks that’s a bit of a stretch.

The door is normally bricked up, opened once every twenty-five years to celebrate the Holy Year but it will prove to be no issue for Jimin. It’s not a matter of how he’s going to pass through the doorway, more so it’s what will happen when he does.

-

Jimin sees Jungkook’s lips quirk up in the slightest and he gets the feeling that the grimace he’s trying to hold back still showed on his face.

“I’m telling you now brother, this is the easiest part of the process and even then, I can’t tell you what will happen when you pass through those doors.”

“So am I supposed to feel enlightened then?”

“More like I actually don’t know. When you’re a blank slate being indoctrinated into this, you don’t feel anything other than the feeling of having your soul bared. But you,” Jungkook pauses to point an almost accusing finger in Jimin’s direction, “you’re a demon, so it’s either going to tickle or you’ll have your soul ripped to shreds.”

-

All he knows is that he’s willing, and that has to count for something. At least, that’s what he hopes. His thoughts unconsciously drift to you briefly, finding himself holding onto the image like a beacon of light in the darkness and with a swallow, he steps forward. Jimin doesn’t get a face full of metal, in fact, not even so much as a shockwave of resistance like he expected that for a split second, he’s bemused at how easily he passes through.

But then he feels it.

Something spears right through him, an invisible force so strong that it leaves him winded, knees nearly buckling and he all but finds himself stumbling through to the other side, right into the central nave. He forgets where he is for a moment, trying to gather his wits as he takes in deep breaths, trying to calm his thundering heart but it seems almost futile. True to Jungkook’s words, the moment he passed through those doors, something had torn away not just the cloaking spell he had placed on himself, but almost everything about his being — the glamour that he wore, the face that he stole, his magic, everything. He’s never felt so exposed but as he raises a trembling hand to his eyes, it seems nothing about him has changed.

Jimin balls his hand into a fist, hoping to lessen the tremors but when they don’t stop, he kisses his teeth, slightly perturbed. He shouldn’t complain, rather he should be thankful that he’s still in one piece. After all, he only just crossed the first hurdle. Without wanting to dawdle or waste time, he boldly begins to make his way.

The nave is a sight to behold, the space so high and open with its coloured marbles, gold trimmings and ornate detailing of heavenly imagery. No doubt in the day, the place would be filled with people from all around the world wanting to be able to bask in the awe of the architecture, built by the hands of arguably some of the greatest artists the world has ever known, that embodies all of the majesty, strength and beauty of God.

But now, devoid of any life, it is enveloped in an eerie silence that the soft footsteps of his loafers on the marble floors seem magnified, his only source of light was the moon streaming through pockets in the high domes, casting a cool blue haze on everything, making it seem all the more like Jimin had entered into a spiritual realm.

He passes by pillars with their niches filled with statues of saints who had founded religious orders and along the perimeter of the transept and above the arches, are the twenty eight figures of the Christian and human virtues, staring down at him, watching as he makes his way further into the the nave towards the place he must go. Jimin keeps to averting his gaze downward, determined to push away the incessant itch that has begun to crawl along his skin, heart still pounding like he’s ran a marathon rather than walk at a brisk pace like he is now and he fears that it will give him away in this quiet atmosphere, the sound so much more defeaning to his ears.

Sweat begins to form along his hairline and soon he finds himself short of breath. It makes him slow to almost a stop, light-headedness washing over him and he has to blink away the dark spots that appear in his vision, feeling sick to his stomach. When he looks next, it seems like the long hallway ahead of him had elongated but when he looks up, he’s actually only a few metres away from being directly under the impressive Baroque Canopy. No wonder his skin felt like it was burning from the inside while he’s getting chills at the same time.

Running a hand through his hair, he hastens once again.

-

“If, by some miracle, you find yourself inside, make your way to the end of the nave, pass the Canopy and St. Peter’s tomb, until you reach the top of the cruciform. There you will find ‘The Chapel of the Cathedra’ where you will kneel before his throne.”

“Why not his tomb?” Jimin couldn’t help but to ask. It made more sense to go see the man directly where he was supposedly buried.

“It’s symbolic because it’s a place where St. Peter had always sat, teaching and instructing the faithful of Rome. It’s only appropriate that is where you will ‘learn’ about those teachings with the guidance of the Holy Spirit.”

-

The altar, for lack of better words, is grandiose — it’s structure solely created to enclose the wooden throne of St. Peter, displaying it in a manner to show the significance and worship of the holy relic. The chair is a combination of the original acacia wood and gilded bronze done by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. It’s richly ornate with bas-relief, the base which it sat upon is made of black and white marble with four gigantic bronze statues, making the chair look as if it was suspended in golden clouds. On either sides, there are statues of saints from the Latin and Greek Church. At the crown are the gilt and stucco of Gloria with a host of angels among the rays of light and billowing clouds.

And right at the centre is a window of Bohemian glass, divided into twelve sections, representing the Twelve Apostles with a single dove against it — the symbol of the Holy Spirit, the soul of the Church.

Jimin stood, stuck at the very borders where the pews begin, overwhelmed with apprehension but shockingly, entranced as well. He would imagine the two windows situated on either side of the apse would let in brilliant streams of warm, golden light from the afternoon sun, giving the place an even more mystical look that would easily ensnare anyone into becoming a believer. Now though, with the light of the moon, it appears just as ghostly as the rest of the basilica — sombre yet still hauntingly beautiful. Jimin swallows once, running his tongue along his dry lips before he summons the strength to force his legs into motion.

They were by far the hardest steps he’d ever taken, his feet feeling like lead as he drags them one excruciating step at a time until he all but collapses onto his knees once he reaches the dark wooden prayer bench. His skin feels like it’s breaking out into hives, the itch becoming so unbearable at this point that he thinks he’ll go mad and resort to ripping away his skin himself. Every muscle in him is tense, any small movements causing them to twitch and spasm painfully and when he finally cranes his neck to look up at the altar, he hears his bones crack.

The fog in his head threatens to overwhelm him, stun him into a stupor until he can do nothing but slowly wither away into ashes. He fights to stay alert and with much effort, tries to remember Jungkook’s next words.

-

“From here, it’s pretty simple… If you can call it that.” Jungkook says a little too off-handedly, as if he was discussing how to change the battery to a remote. “You take Him into your heart and say His prayer.”

“….There are a lot of ‘prayers’.” Jimin deadpans. He may be a demon, but all demons are aware of the ridiculous amounts of prayers said in His name or in any of the other holiness, whether from being hissed out in angry fury by crossing paths with angels or in more unlucky cases, through exorcising.

Jimin’s only familiar with the sign of the cross, uttered to him by a man who couldn’t have picked a worser day to piss him off (he almost felt bad for the police who had to find him the following morning).

Jungkook flips his pretty raven locks out of his face, lazily reaching to pour himself another glass as he reclines back into his seat.

“You’ll know the one.”

-

The younger demon said he would know the prayer once he’s here but his mind is drawing blanks, unable to even begin searching for any hints. Through his hazy vision, the dove appears to have a halo of light surrounding it, pulsating as if it had life. He stares, fixated on that one point, waiting for who knows what. Just when the silence became too stifling, he hears a sound. It’s so soft that he can’t decipher it, much less if it was real or something he hallucinated in his delirious mind. It sounded like a whisper but he can’t make out any words, at least, not ones he recognizes.

It comes and goes, flowing like it’s being carried by an invisible breeze and before him, the dove seems to glow even brighter. It compels him to close his eyes and past a dry throat, he takes in a breath and from his lips, the first lines spills forth.

“Deus meus

ex toto corde poenitet me omnium meorum peccatorum…”

The words burn like a hot poker being pricked along his skin, a poison pouring from his own mouth as every line was another stabbing pain. Jimin speaks until his knuckles turn white from gripping the bench so tightly, nails digging into the wood and causing small cracks to form in the grain but still through gritted teeth, he continues the prayer faithfully.

“…. Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia Tua,

de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum.”

As he reaches the final verse, his once porcelain face is drained of any colour, marred by fissures and cracks, the flesh burnt at the edges like paper caught on fire with spidery veins snaking along the surface, revealing him for what he truly is underneath. His body shakes uncontrollably and with one last sharp inhale, he utters.

“Amen.”

-

“So I say the ‘prayer,’” Jimin reaffirms, resisting the urge to use air quotations. “And then that’s it? Done?”

Jungkook throws his head back with a laugh, his bunny teeth flashing as he tries to reel himself back in. He shakes his head, almost out of pity. Jimin doesn’t miss that, nor does he like it and his narrowing eyes prompts the younger demon to elaborate.

“You can very well be ‘done’ right on the spot, granted if you even make it that far — I’d honestly be very impressed if you do.”  Jungkook pauses to take a sip of his drink, smacking his lips a little when he swallows the dark liquid. “What’s more important is what comes after you say the prayer; if your will has yet to be broken, it will appear.”

“What will?”

“The Chalice.”

-

Jimin’s eyes, which had been shut tightly, snaps open with trepidation as they wildly scan before him. He tries to collect himself but only just as a gold shape catches his eyes. A hoarse chuckle escapes him unintentionally, the sound a mixture between disbelief and immense relief.

The chalice sits unassumingly on the ornate communion table a few steps in front of him, as if it had been there the entire time. It doesn’t shine with lustre nor is it bejewelled with any precious gems, Jimin was surprised that he had noticed it at all. But nevertheless, he’s relieved to see it there; the fruit of his labour thus far. He takes a moment to just breathe, inhaling and exhaling deeply, damp forehead pressing into the wooden prayer bench. His legs feel like stone, as if anchored down on the spot but he knows he has to eventually get up.

He’s so close.

Jimin grunts, hauling himself up on shaky arms by using the bench as leverage. He leans back heavily on it, limbs protesting as his eyes lock on the gold cup that was still there, beckoning him. He takes another minute to steady himself, running his tongue over his dry, cracked lips and once he’s sure he’s stable enough, he begins to make his way. He nearly falls over from that one step alone, arms flying back to catch himself on the prayer bench just in time. Shutting his eyes, it takes everything in him not to curse aloud, given where he is right now so Jimin settles in letting out a frustrated growl instead. Once the feeling passes, he clenches his teeth and tries again.

This time, Jimin manages, keeping his steps to a minimal with one arm clutching around his midsection as if to hold himself upright. It’s a slow process, feeling like he’s travelling at a snail’s pace but eventually, he limps his way there. When the table is within reach, his hands slams down onto the surface to brace himself, a loud bang reverberating throughout the basilica. The force of it disturbs the chalice slightly, causing it to slosh the liquid inside and spill over on the white tablecloth. Jimin recoils on instinct at the sight.

Up close, he can see the finer details of the cup; how dull and worn it actually looks as if it had been used for over centuries but despite the scratches and scuffs, it had withstood time.

But that’s not where the focus of his attention is.

-

Jungkook’s taken on a more morose demeanour, now only fiddling his half empty glass lost in his own thoughts —  or perhaps reminiscing, Jimin’s not sure. Suddenly, he breaks out into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as his gaze flits to meet Jimin’s.

“The Chalice will appear to only those who are deemed worthy. It is the final act you must do in order to prove your faith and commitment, to cleanse your soul and begin anew.”

A beat passes, wherein Jimin sits in turmoil with his own emotions. This entire ordeal was a lot to take in, the things Jungkook had told him sounding crazier than the last. Everything could go wrong so easily and so quickly that at some point, he questioned the validity of Jungkook’s method but shoot those doubts down when he reminds himself that not just anyone would know the particulars of this in such great detail.

“So do I baptize myself in the holy water? Get a new name and everything?” Jimin asks jokingly in an attempt to break the tension but even he hears the uncertainty straining his voice.

“You’re not going to anoint yourself with it.” Jungkook sighs, taking his glass in his hand if only to scrutinize it against the light. Then, he gestures it towards Jimin.


“You’re going to drink it.”

-

He stares unblinkingly into the pool of water inside the chalice, watching it as if at any second, he’ll see a vision within its depths. But all he sees is the faint glow of his irises reflected back at him —  two crimson drops that threaten to transform the pure water into blood.

Jungkook’s words continue to echo around in Jimin’s head, the audacity of it all never leaving.

Drink it, he says.

Of all the crazy things Jungkook had told him that night, that one takes the cake. It’s no myth that holy water to a demon is like arsenic to a human; a drop of it would greatly weaken even the strongest of demons, burning skin and bone like acid, anything more and you’ll be nothing but ashes.

So to go as far as to consume it.

A bead of sweat rolls down Jimin’s clenched jaw, a million thoughts running through his mind. A part of him admits he’s terrified of what will become of him should he choose to drink the holy water, this being the closest he’s ever been to staring death in the face. He’s lived without fear of anything for so long because he was the to be feared and even death didn’t scare him because he had nothing to lose.

Now, that’s all changed. Now, he has everything to lose.

The memories, the sounds, the scent, the warmth….

He doesn’t want to lose you.

Jimin draws in a shuddering breath, eyes slipping shut if only to escape to those feelings for a moment of reprieve. It brings a strange sense of comfort to him, a balm to his aching muscles and a moment of clarity to his hazy mind. He longs to go back to your little home, to catch just even a glimpse of your face but he’s here, a million miles away, battered, vulnerable and probably looking like every bit of vermin angels think demons are.

Yet by some miracle, he’s alive.

He’s alive when he should’ve been dead from the moment he walked through those doors.

Which means he has a chance.

Slowly, Jimin opens his eyes again, takes in his final moments and tentatively, he reaches for the cup.

-

“It’s supposed to be a painless process, which is why it’s foolproof — angels being ‘ethical’ and all that. But you’re a demon so if you die, you can’t blame me.” Jungkook disclaims, shooting back his drink and immediately begins to fill it up again. The younger had long opted to just have the bottle beside him rather than needing to wave the bartender down to ask for a refill every time. Jimin doesn’t complain as he too needed to refill constantly; he’s lost track of how many glasses he’s downed in order to swallow this hard pill the younger demon had just given him. They’re about halfway done with their second one.

“But now that you know, do you still want to go through with it?”

Jungkook’s pinned him with a hard stare, more serious than Jimin’s ever seen him but it’s with very good reasons.

He’d basically been told he has a fifty-fifty chance of killing himself in the process on three different occasions, willingly.

A humourless laugh passes through his full lips, wondering briefly if he should’ve taken his chances on the fellow he cancelled on. Then again, Jungkook’s someone he knows and trusts, so he thinks the odds are better, if only slightly. Jimin leans over and takes the bottle, pouring more liquor into his glass until it was about half full before placing it down on the bar counter.

Lifting his glass, he swirls it once and then holds it out towards Jungkook to toast.

“Then can I get an ‘amen’?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, mouth dropping a little, completely appalled and Jimin is prepared to catch the other’s glass should it slip from his loosen grip. Thankfully, the younger demon snaps out of his shock before that happens, resting the crystal glass on the tops of his muscular thigh. Then, as Jimin’s words finally sink into him, Jungkook cocks his head, looks him dead in the eyes and says.

“You’re a crazy son of a bitch.”

Jimin can only laugh in response because he can’t disagree there before he brings the glass to his lips.

-

There’s a strong metallic taste that reaches his tongue first, one he can probably attribute to the old cup, but then comes the first sip.

The effect is immediate.

Jimin begins to choke violently, gasping and retching so hard that he doesn’t realize he’s dropped the chalice until he hears a resounding clang of metal hitting marble. The rest of its contents spews out, soaking the floor and table but he doesn’t have the mind to think if he was meant to drink everything because all he feels is the burning.

A white hot pain racks through every nerve in his body as if he’s being incinerated from the inside out. It makes him keel over, clawing at his throat until they leave deep red marks in their wake and a guttural, agonizing scream finally tears past his clenched teeth. Jimin writhes and convulses, eyes screwing shut and trying desperately to drown out this torture but his limbs feel like they’re being torn apart and his head is about to split open. He’s so out of his mind that above his own sounds of torment, the ringing in his ears begin to sound more like the notes of an organ being played.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, slowly suffocating to death but he can’t stand this any longer. With wild abandon, Jimin’s eyes shoot open, searching for something, anything, anyone, only to meet the serene gazes of the numerous saints and heavenly hosts painted into the stucco ceiling.

Please. He cries, pleads, begs.

Make it stop.

He feels his body seize before all strength leaves him, his hands falling limp to his side and his vision blurs until they can no longer see past the inky black tears that begin to stream from his eyes.

Everything falls silent.

And then he feels nothing.

[tswiftdaily]

TAYLOR SWIFT: 30 THINGS I LEARNED BEFORE TURNING 30

According to my birth certificate, I turn 30 this year. It's weird because part of me still feels 18 and part of me feels 283, but the actual age I currently am is 29. I've heard people say that your thirties are "the most fun!" So I'll definitely keep you posted on my findings on that when I know. But until then, I thought I'd share some lessons I've learned before reaching 30, because it's 2019 and sharing is caring.

ONE: I learned to block some of the noise. Social media can be great, but it can also inundate your brain with images of what you aren’t, how you’re failing, or who is in a cooler locale than you at any given moment. One thing I do to lessen this weird insecurity laser beam is to turn off comments. Yes, I keep comments off on my posts. That way, I’m showing my friends and fans updates on my life, but I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me I look . I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to “go die in a hole ho” while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning. I think it’s healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. An actual comment I received once.

TWO: Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life’s worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you.

THREE: Trying and failing and trying again and failing again is normal. It may not feel normal to me because all of my trials and failures are blown out of proportion and turned into a spectator sport by tabloid takedown culture (you had to give me one moment of bitterness, come on). BUT THAT SAID, it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks. It’s especially good to do this in your twenties because we are searching. That’s GOOD. We’ll always be searching but never as intensely as when our brains are still developing at such a rapid pace. No, this is not an excuse to text your ex right now. That’s not what I said. Or do it, whatever, maybe you’ll learn from it. Then you’ll probably forget what you learned and do it again.... But it’s fine; do you, you’re searching. 

FOUR: I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body. I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy. I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix. I work on accepting my body every day.

FIVE: Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it. Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. It’s just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it.

SIX: I’ve learned that society is constantly sending very loud messages to women that exhibiting the physical signs of aging is the worst thing that can happen to us. These messages tell women that we aren’t allowed to age. It’s an impossible standard to meet, and I’ve been loving how outspoken Jameela Jamil has been on this subject. Reading her words feels like hearing a voice of reason amongst all these loud messages out there telling women we’re supposed to defy gravity, time, and everything natural in order to achieve this bizarre goal of everlasting youth that isn’t even remotely required of men.

SEVEN: My biggest fear. After the Manchester Arena bombing and the Vegas concert shooting, I was completely terrified to go on tour this time because I didn’t know how we were going to keep 3 million fans safe over seven months. There was a tremendous amount of planning, expense, and effort put into keeping my fans safe. My fear of violence has continued into my personal life. I carry QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds. Websites and tabloids have taken it upon themselves to post every home address I’ve ever had online. You get enough stalkers trying to break into your house and you kind of start prepping for bad things. Every day I try to remind myself of the good in the world, the love I’ve witnessed and the faith I have in humanity. We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.

EIGHT: I learned not to let outside opinions establish the value I place on my own life choices. For too long, the projected opinions of strangers affected how I viewed my relationships. Whether it was the general internet consensus of who would be right for me, or what they thought was “couples goals” based on a picture I posted on Instagram. That stuff isn’t real. For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.

NINE: I learned how to make some easy cocktails like Pimm’s cups, Aperol spritzes, Old-Fashioneds, and Mojitos because…2016.

TEN: I’ve always cooked a LOT, but I found three recipes I know I’ll be making at dinner parties for life: Ina Garten’s Real Meatballs and Spaghetti (I just use packaged bread crumbs and only ground beef for meat), Nigella Lawson’s Mughlai Chicken, and Jamie Oliver’s Chicken Fajitas with Molé Sauce. Getting a garlic crusher is a whole game changer. I also learned how to immediately calculate Celsius to Fahrenheit in my head. (Which is what I’m pretty sure the internet would call a “weird flex.”)

ELEVEN: Recently I discovered Command tape, and I definitely would have fewer holes in my walls if I’d hung things that way all along. This is not an ad. I just really love Command tape.

TWELVE: Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. Try not to say “I’m sorry, but...” and make excuses for yourself. Learn how to make a sincere apology, and you can avoid breaking down the trust in your friendships and relationships.

THIRTEEN: It’s my opinion that in cases of sexual assault, I believe the victim. Coming forward is an agonizing thing to go through. I know because my sexual assault trial was a demoralizing, awful experience. I believe victims because I know firsthand about the shame and stigma that comes with raising your hand and saying “This happened to me.” It’s something no one would choose for themselves. We speak up because we have to, and out of fear that it could happen to someone else if we don’t.

FOURTEEN: When tragedy strikes someone you know in a way you’ve never dealt with before, it’s okay to say that you don’t know what to say. Sometimes just saying you’re so sorry is all someone wants to hear. It’s okay to not have any helpful advice to give them; you don’t have all the answers. However, it’s not okay to disappear from their life in their darkest hour. Your support is all someone needs when they’re at their lowest point. Even if you can’t really help the situation, it’s nice for them to know that you would if you could.

FIFTEEN: Vitamins make me feel so much better! I take L-theanine, which is a natural supplement to help with stress and anxiety. I also take magnesium for muscle health and energy.

SIXTEEN: Before you jump in headfirst, maybe, I don’t know...get to know someone! All that glitters isn’t gold, and first impressions actually aren’t everything. It’s impressive when someone can charm people instantly and own the room, but what I know now to be more valuable about a person is not their charming routine upon meeting them (I call it a “solid first 15”), but the layers of a person you discover in time. Are they honest, self-aware, and slyly funny at the moments you least expect it? Do they show up for you when you need them? Do they still love you after they’ve seen you broken? Or after they’ve walked in on you having a full conversation with your cats as if they’re people? These are things a first impression could never convey. 

SEVENTEEN: After my teen years and early twenties of sleeping in my makeup and occasionally using a Sharpie as eyeliner (DO NOT DO IT), I felt like I needed to start being nicer to my skin. I now moisturize my face every night and put on body lotion after I shower, not just in the winter, but all year round, because, why can’t I be soft during all the seasons?!

EIGHTEEN: Realizing childhood scars and working on rectifying them. For example, never being popular as a kid was always an insecurity for me. Even as an adult, I still have recurring flashbacks of sitting at lunch tables alone or hiding in a bathroom stall, or trying to make a new friend and being laughed at. In my twenties I found myself surrounded by girls who wanted to be my friend. So I shouted it from the rooftops, posted pictures, and celebrated my newfound acceptance into a sisterhood, without realizing that other people might still feel the way I did when I felt so alone. It’s important to address our long-standing issues before we turn into the living embodiment of them.

NINETEEN: Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it. No one is a mind reader. If someone really loves you, they want you to verbalize how you feel. This is real life, not chess.

TWENTY: Learning the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships. Something about “we’re in our young twenties!” hurls people together into groups that can feel like your chosen family. And maybe they will be for the rest of your life. Or maybe they’ll just be your comrades for an important phase, but not forever. It’s sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships. You may leave behind friendships along the way, but you’ll always keep the memories.

TWENTY-ONE: Fashion is all about playful experimentation. If you don’t look back at pictures of some of your old looks and cringe, you’re doing it wrong. See: Bleachella.

TWENTY-TWO: How to fight fair with the ones you love. Chances are you’re not trying to hurt the person you love and they aren’t trying to hurt you. If you can wind the tension of an argument down to a conversation about where the other person is coming from, there’s a greater chance you can remove the shame of losing a fight for one of you and the ego boost of the one who “won” the fight. I know a couple who, in the thick of a fight, say “Hey, same team.” Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers.

TWENTY-THREE: I learned that I have friends and fans in my life who don’t care if I’m #canceled. They were there in the worst times and they’re here now. The fans and their care for me, my well-being, and my music were the ones who pulled me through. The most emotional part of the Reputation Stadium Tour for me was knowing I was looking out at the faces of the people who helped me get back up. I’ll never forget the ones who stuck around.

TWENTY-FOUR: I’ve had to learn how to handle serious illness in my family. Both of my parents have had cancer, and my mom is now fighting her battle with it again. It’s taught me that there are real problems and then there’s everything else. My mom’s cancer is a real problem. I used to be so anxious about daily ups and downs. I give all of my worry, stress, and prayers to real problems now.

TWENTY-FIVE: I remember people asking me, “What are you gonna write about if you ever get happy?” There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool.

TWENTY-SIX: I make countdowns for things I’m excited about. When I’ve gone through dark, low times, I’ve always found a tiny bit of relief and hope in getting a countdown app (they’re free) and adding things I’m looking forward to. Even if they’re not big holidays or anything, it’s good to look toward the future. Sometimes we can get overwhelmed in the now, and it’s good to get some perspective that life will always go on, to better things.

TWENTY-SEVEN: I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. In my experience, I’ve come to see that bullies want to be feared and taken seriously. A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It’s the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll’s hateful Instagram comment with “lol.” It would be nice if we could get an apology from people who bully us, but maybe all I’ll ever get is the satisfaction of knowing I could survive it, and thrive in spite of it.

TWENTY-EIGHT: I’m finding my voice in terms of politics. I took a lot of time educating myself on the political system and the branches of government that are signing off on bills that affect our day-to-day life. I saw so many issues that put our most vulnerable citizens at risk, and felt like I had to speak up to try and help make a change. Only as someone approaching 30 did I feel informed enough to speak about it to my 114 million followers. Invoking racism and provoking fear through thinly veiled messaging is not what I want from our leaders, and I realized that it actually is my responsibility to use my influence against that disgusting rhetoric. I’m going to do more to help. We have a big race coming up next year.

TWENTY-NINE: I learned that your hair can completely change texture. From birth, I had the curliest hair and now it is STRAIGHT. It’s the straight hair I wished for every day in junior high. But just as I was coming to terms with loving my curls, they’ve left me. Please pray for their safe return.

THIRTY: My mom always tells me that when I was a little kid, she never had to punish me for misbehaving because I would punish myself even worse. I’d lock myself in my room and couldn’t forgive myself, as a five-year-old. I realized that I do the same thing now when I feel I’ve made a mistake, whether it’s self-imposed exile or silencing myself and isolating. I’ve come to a realization that I need to be able to forgive myself for making the wrong choice, trusting the wrong person, or figuratively falling on my face in front of everyone. Step into the daylight and let it go.

ELLE

[marianhellequin]

Nulogorsk.fm - 01: Pilot

[[Author's note: I'm not so great in translating into English. So dear native English-speaking readers, I'll be really very glad if you leave a comment if something’s wrong! Thank you.]]

A friendly northern town where nights are white, days are dark, sea is cold like the hearts of the ancient gods, and arctic lights in their beauty can compete with a mysterious shining, which we are all scared to even glance at.

You're listening to Nulogorsk.fm!

First of all, an important message from the municipal government.

Nulogorsk government reminds that the military community located after the nothern highway exit from A-800 is former, closed and left under the decree of the municipal government from February, 29th, 1993. Noone lives at the territory of the military community. Noone works there. There is no living or nonliving soul. The military community is abandoned, closed and sealed for eternity - they say in the decree. The municipal government reminds you: if you see servicemen without military rank insignia, they are just a phantom of your imagination. If not only you see them, it is a phantom of your collective imagination. Do not try to talk to these servicemen. Ignore these phantoms of your imagination.

It's a significant day here today in Nulogorsk - after many years of repairs, the Palace of Culture is finally re-opened. Surely, all the important citizens will come for the opening, also a short briefing will be held, as well as a concert on the occasion of opening. Concert-bill is still elaborating.I remind you that the Palace of Culture was closed for a few years due to major repairs. The reasons were leaking roof, wall cracks and stucco moldings falling down off the walls. All the rumours about some kind of a way to some kind of an abyss opened in the vaults of the Palace, that artists and workers who stayed late after the concerts heard horrifying, ghoulish howl, which was coming like from every wall and every dark corned, that on the long, dark November days all the building winced and shaked as if because of the panoptic terror - that's all of course just idle rumours, and shame on them who pass it.

Now all the repair works are finally finished, the newest sound and video equipment is already brought, and Nulogorsk cultural life is ready to play out in fresh colours!

So, now everyone's waiting for the complimentary speech from our Mayor Pavel Borovik, who will officialy cut the symbolic ribbon after this. Our Mayor's speeches are always unforgettable! We can just recall his congratulations on last New Year, when he traditionally but in his unique manner wished success, health and luck to all of us, using frozen bull-trout, his expensive shoes in the colour of sycamore and his whole vocal range of 3-5 octaves. For sure today we will all be impressed by his words.Sadly I can't be there now at this wonderful event, but who would then tell you of everything happening in the town, dear listeners?

But I'm sure our new intern Olga would help us! She's waving, you can't see it but believe me as usual. I'll send her to the place for the most precise report, she'll sure deal great with it. See you, Olya! I'll be waiting for your messages as soon as possible!

And while Olga is going to the place, a little bit about traffic.

Due to technical difficulties, the central bus station will be closed from Thursday, 7 a.m. until Sunday, 5 p.m. All the arrivals will overpass. That's what the bus station operator says.

Somewhere far away a giant lorry rips in the highways, and a small woman is driving it. The teeth of this lorry, enormous, can grind a diamond. The lorry snorts fire, and it seems like to be all made of pipes. We don't know where it's coming from. We don't know where it's going to. I don't know what it carries. They say museums explode on the way of this lorry.

A giant lorry rips in the highways far away. How far is it from us? How close? Where does it go?

The bus station operator notices that the station closing isn't connected with this message.

This was the traffic.

To other news.

This morning a group of servicemen with military rank insignia arrived to Nulogorsk. As their leader, a beautiful woman dressed in perfectly fitting field jacket with Major's stars, says, they came because of safety issues. There were no details, despite legitimate questions from the journalists, for whom a short and quick news conference was held. But still there are many questions. What happened to safety in our little, cosy, quiet town? Why now? Why Major's hairstyle is so perfect, and her eyes are looking so strikingly right into your soul?

We didn't get answers to those questions.

Last news, on-the-spot message from Olga! Our Mayor Pavel Borovik has just finished his inspiring speech. He recalled how many events took place in our Palace of Culture, how we celebrated Town Day here, New Year, Knowledge Day, Gnosis Day, Harvest Day... Oh, I remember those wonderful New Year nights! The fun that united everyone, young and old... on such nights, teenagers for the first time tried 16-kopek plombiere ice-cream and "Kaliningrad" champagne! How strongly I wanted then to come back into my childhood and feel what they were feeling: the delight of novelty, the expectancy of unpredictable future and existentialist horror of it's imminence!

By the way about imminence.

"Blacker than darkness" coffee and bake shop invites the people and visitors of the town to try something new, double cake with orange jam and candied peel! Wonderful for to go and to get out, ideal with coffee. If you order the cake and any coffee except espresso, you get vague anxiety until next morning for free! For strict vegans: coffee on soy milk, carrot cake and a feeling of grievous loss. Offer doesn't include orders to go.

Let's get back to the main topic of the day. Just now, our esteemed Mayor Pavel Borovik has officialy cut the lily-white ribbon into thousand of smallest pieces which flew away with the wind just like our young hopes and dreams. Local amateur orchestra played a solemn melody, and doors of the Palace of Culture were opened for the first visitors chaired by Palace manager, Mayor and a representative of the press service of the municipal government. As Olga says, everyone just passed the red carpet covering the entrance stairs and came into the spacious lobby decorated with flowers and flecks from the gorgeous crystal chandelier. The orchestra refused to come in, saying it can make them go out of tune, but as Olga says, their eyes were suspiciously shifty. I wonder, what's this all about? Sadly, I don't have music education, so I even can't suggest!

In the same way, I can't suggest why our humble radio station is interesting for the servicemen with military rank insignia, but I can assure that I was really glad to see Major Andreeva with her perfect hairstyle, expressive eyes and even more expressive body language within our walls. I asked if I could help somehow or buy her a cup of coffee with orange double cake this evening, but seems like Major didn't pay due attention to my words. I think their packed and tight schedule doesn't let them such freedom as coffee. Though, orange double pie...

Anyway, Major Andreeva and her crew were interested in our humble sound equipment and my desk, and also in our regular technician Alexander, which, at the sight of visitors, made a loud hiss, blended into surroundings and quickly left the studio by draining into the sewer system.

And now, the weather.

[Frank Pourcel "Manchester et Liverpool" playing in the background]

It was a tiny cupboard of a room about six paces in length. It had a poverty-stricken appearance with its dusty yellow paper peeling off the walls, and it was so low-pitched that a man of more than average height was ill at ease in it and felt every moment that he would knock his head against the ceiling.The furniture was in keeping with the room: there were three old chairs, rather rickety; a painted table in the corner on which lay a few manuscripts and books; the dust that lay thick upon them showed that they had been long untouched. A big clumsy sofa occupied almost the whole of one wall and half the floor space of the room; it was once covered with chintz, but was now in rags and served Raskolnikov as a bed. Often he went to sleep on it, as he was, without undressing, without sheets, wrapped in his old student's overcoat, with his head on one little pillow, under which he heaped up all the linen he had, clean and dirty, by way of a bolster. A little table stood in front of the sofa.It would have been difficult to sink to a lower ebb of disorder, but to Raskolnikov in his present state of mind this was positively agreeable. He had got completely away from everyone, like a tortoise in its shell, and even the sight of a servant girl who had to wait upon him and looked sometimes into his room made him writhe with nervous irritation. He was in the condition that overtakes some monomaniacs entirely concentrated upon one thing.

A message for car owners. Petrol station number two informs that since tomorrow it will be impossible to pay with deadheads, body parts, saplings and karma. Use cash and credit cards, loyalty points and your immortal soul.

Olga who's on scene tells me that the first visitors of renewed Palace of Culture just walked into the main music hall. She says that the very first step into the large wooden doors made her heart tremble with inexplicable fear of the abyss of the existence. Mayor Pavel Borovik is determined as always.Seems like not everything is ready for the festive program in the music hall. The orchestra pit is empty and has the form of the sinkhole into the primeval abyss. Splendid velvet curtain isn't as determined as the Mayor and in every way blocks artists' attempts to sneak onto the stage and thereby save themselves from something which makes ghoulish... one moment, looks like Olga gives some details... Yes, thanks, Olya. Save themselves from something which makes spine-tingling, paralysing, dreadful howl. We'll make a pause for a message from our sponsor while I'm clarifying the situation with my colleague, stay tuned.

Everything for home and garden in the "Bad Seed" shop! New arrivals of strings, ropes, strands, cables, and also chains made of women's beard and noise of cats' steps! Never out of stock: seeds, sprouts, fertilizers, everything most needed for your homesteading or window greenhouse. In the housewares - new bed-linen arrivals. By popular demand, we returned duvet covers with chase nightmares effect, pillow cases with the paranoid thoughts aroma and sheets spawning invisible worms. Double discount with your loyalty card after sunset on Saturdays, come for shopping to "Bad Seed"!

An important message from the municipal government.Right now the press service of the municipal government informed about Mayor's decree regarding the Nulogorsk Palace of Culture. Due to the decree, Palace of Culture is closed for indefinite term until all the small defects caused by face-lift will be eliminated. Citizens are asked not to come to the building closer than 20 meters, and to cover minors' eyes while passing by the Palace.

The press service pointed out that it isn't connected with an echo of inhuman howl coming from the nailed up windows of the Palace, ghoulish and spine-tingling. With regard to all these cases of revealed breaches, an examination will be held by an independent commission consisting of active concerned citizens, mediums, shaman and Father Evgeny of the Holy Virgin Protection church.

All the planned events are moved to Youth Activity Center and local drama theatre.

Small announcement.

Internship opportunity is opened at the Nulogorsk town radiostation! It's a chance to get invaluable experience, try yourself as a real reporter, and for sure, make a great contribution into the town's public life! We're waiting for your calls, just dial ten zeros on any telephone set or whisper into your mobile phone that you want to become our intern, and we'll immediately contact you! Good luck!

That's the end of our programme for today, but not of this day. A clear, moonlit evening is waiting for the town, and a clear, disturbing night. Don't forget to check if you still have some salt on your cill and if you turned off your kettle. And now, I say goodbye to you.

Until we meet again, Nulogorsk, until we meet again.

Proverb of the day: You are what you eat. You have to revise your vegeterianism ideas if you want to be a human.

[brianprobablywill]

Driven By You (Brian May x Reader)

summary: the reader is insecure about her relationship with brian, making brian’s return from tour an emotional day for both of them.

fluff + angst; 1.8k words

[since i accidentally deleted this post from my blog while trying to edit it - the tumblr app is a bitch lmao - here is the repost! i’ll also attach the right link to the masterlist asap!]

This wasn’t the first time you were here. Here, sitting in a dingy booth of this dingy coffee shop in this dingy corner of East London.

You had been here over and over again. Sunday after Sunday. Breakfast after Breakfast. Sneaking pieces of toast off your boyfriend’s plate, him taking a sip of your coffee to get you back. Your boyfriend holding your hand fondly across the table, telling you how much you mean to him.

You had always been fascinated by Brian. There were so many layers to him. Such a shy, sweet boy on the outside, only letting his wild side out when he was playing the guitar, gelling perfectly with Roger and Tim.

He’d invited you to his first gig ever, taking you backstage after and kissing you softly, asking you out on a date. You’d gone to every concert of his after that, even the one where Tim had left Smile for Humpy Bong. You’d helped him think straight when he was upset over it. You’d been there when he’d voiced his concerns about their new frontman — one of your closest friends — Freddie, and had assured him that he was the perfect fit.

You’d been his sounding board for all his song ideas. You had been there to celebrate when he’d said the album had hit the charts. You’d been the one to pick up the phone when Roger had called to tell Brian that their manager had booked them a tour of America.

You had stood at the airport, kissing your boyfriend goodbye one last time, telling him you’d loved him. Brian had held on tight, pressing kisses into your hairline, not wanting to let go. He had said he loved you and asked you if you would wait for him. You had pressed a kiss to his knuckles, telling him he was stupid to think that you wouldn’t.

You and Brian would talk almost every day. Yes, timezones made it difficult, but Brian made sure to get in a phone call every two to three days, even if that meant he had to wake up earlier. The phone calls started to get more and more sparse as Queen progressed into the most hectic leg of the tour. You started to worry that it was because Brian was finding better things to devote his time to, rather than spending time talking to you.

You worried a lot. Every day that passed without talking to Brian, you worried. You would get the occasional postcard in the mail, chicken-scratch scrawled on really tiny, trying to fit as much as he could onto the small card. You’d smile and tuck them under the mattress on your side of the bed, reading them any time your anxiety got the better of you.

On his last letter, dated four weeks back, he’d told you to come to the coffee shop today. At your regular time.

So here you were. A long time had passed since the last time you were here, but it still felt the same. Minnie — one of the waitresses — came to your booth and smiled at you, happy to see you back. “We thought you’d moved away! Is Brian coming later than usual?” She asked.

“Yeah, I suppose he’s just running a little late,” you said, smiling warmly back at her.

“I’ll wait till he’s back to take your order, even though I’m pretty sure it’s going to be the same.” Minnie said, “I’ll get to meet him too, that way!”

You watched as she walked away, not sure if you were going to get to meet him either. It was fifteen minutes past your usual time, but Brian still hadn’t shown up. You pulled the letter out of your bag one more time, making sure you’d gotten the date and time right.

After rechecking for the fifteenth time, you banged the side of the letter on the table, considering leaving. Tears were forming in your eyes. Brian had decided not to show up.

You were picking up your bag, readjusting your hair, trying to stall. You drank the glass of water that had been sitting on your table. As you began walking towards the exit, Minnie called out, getting you to turn around, “He’s not coming?”

“Seems like it. Must have gotten caught up somewhere,” You said, trying to hold back tears.

Minnie put a hand on your shoulder, “I’m sure it’s just that,” she said, almost as if she understood.

You nodded quickly, biting your lower lip. You turned around quickly, walking with your head down. That’s why you didn’t notice when you bumped into someone, mumbling an, “I’m so sorry,” trying to be on your way.

But it was when you heard that sweet voice you’d been yearning to hear for so long, that you stopped.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see a familiar pair of hazel eyes, crinkled at the corners.

“Brian,” you said softly, holding onto his arm, your grip tight.

“Oh, goodness, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” Brian said, his voice full of emotion, pulling you into a tight hug. One of his hands was on the back of your head, convenient for you because that meant he couldn’t see your tears. His other hand was around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to his body. “Oh, my love, you came.” He said, putting his hands on your arms to separate you from his body.

“Of course I did,” you said, your voice small.

Brian’s expression changed to one of worry immediately, “What’s wrong? Let’s sit down.” He put his hand on your back, sitting down across you in the booth that you always occupied.

As always, his hand instinctively went to rest on top of yours, thumb stroking your skin idly. You pulled your hand away — not sure why — taking it into your lap, not making eye contact with Brian.

“My love, did I do something?” Brian asked you. He always called you ‘my love.’ You loved when he did. There was so much feeling in those two words. And you knew Brian meant them every time. This time it hurt a little to hear them.

“You still love me, Brian?” You asked, afraid of the answer.

Brian looked shocked. “Of course I do, sweetheart. What makes you think I don’t?” He leaned forward, putting both of his hands forward. “Can I hold your hands, please?” He asked. His eyes looked pleading; slightly afraid.

You gave him your hands, looking gravely at them as he took them in both of his own, holding on tight.

“My love,” he called, getting you to look at him. “I never stopped loving you. I will always love you. Don’t keep a single doubt of that in your mind.” He was confident in his words, maintaining sheer eye contact to show you how serious he was.

You nodded, starting to believe him. “Yeah,” you whispered.

“What made you think I didn’t anymore?”

You took a few breaths to compose your answer, not wanting to overwhelm Brian. You gulped, pleading to yourself to maintain composure as you spoke. “You were away touring, surrounded by pretty girls all the time, all of them waiting to get a touch of you.” You swallowed, taking a deep breath in. You watched Brian’s incredulous expression during that time. “You started writing less and less, and I just started to worry, it sounds really stupid, I’m sorry —” You were cut off by Brian’s sound of disagreement.

You looked up at him as he stood up and walked over to your side of the booth, sitting down and scooting close to you. He put one arm around your shoulders, the other coming to the arm closest to him.

 “Y/N, my love,” he began, pausing for just a second. “Nobody comes close to you.” His eyes looked glossed over now. “I love you, Y/N. Not a day passed by on tour when I didn’t think of what it would be like, doing all of that with you. Seeing all those beautiful places with you.” He opened his mouth, closing it before opening it again. “I actually wasn’t going to show you this till I was sure, but…” He released you from his grip, reaching across the table for his backpack, pulling out a notebook. You recognized it as his songwriting notebook.

He flipped to a page titled ‘Driven By You,’ pushing the notebook to you.

Your eyes took in the lyrics, pausing for a moment at the especially good ones.

“We’re working day and night to make a dream come true,

Everything I do is driven by you,”

 You smiled, looking at Brian, who had shifted slightly away from you. You wanted to pull him in for a hug, but you decided to read the entire thing first.

“I'm holding on to life with you

'Cause life without you just won't do

Driven by you.”

You laughed this time, your heart doing a little dance. You closed the notebook, putting your arms around Brian. “Did you write that for me?”

“Yes,” Brian said, “It’s true.”

“I’’m sorry I doubted you, Bri. I am so sorry.” You said, pulling away, putting one hand on his cheek.

Brian brought his hand to hold your wrist, “No, I see what you mean. If you were away for so long, I would have gotten a little worried too.” He assured you. He leaned down, pulling you in for a kiss.

You melted into it, bringing your hands around Brian’s neck. You had missed this. You had missed this so bad. You weren’t going to let go so easily. You pulled away after a few seconds, keeping your forehead pressed to his, “I love you, Brian May.”

Brian chuckled softly, “What would I do without you?”

You giggled, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling away completely. “Let’s go somewhere else. I wanna meet you properly,” you said slyly, getting up and waiting for Brian to do the same.

Brian kept his fingers interlaced with yours the entire time back to your apartment, stopping you one last time outside the front door. “Y/N, my love?” He asked, pulling on your hand to get your attention.

You hummed in response, looking up at him, You were still thinking about all the places Brian had seen and described for you.

“Please don’t think I don’t love you again,” he said, his eyes soft, filled with concern. “I love you, okay? More than anything in this world. I promise. I didn’t think once about all the girls I used to see everywhere, all I could think of was coming ba—”

“I believe you, Brian,” you cut him off. “I believe you, I promise. I think I just missed you a little too much.”

You pulled on his collar, getting him to walk with you, whispering in his ear as you pushed the door open, “How about you show me just how much you missed me?”

forever tags: @lv7867 @fatbottomedguys @bensrhapsody @mrsmazzello @unbound-chaos @lovesaweed @cruelmooon @spacedust1124719 @toomuchtellyneck @danamaleksworld @melinas-eyeliner @itsalreadybroken @suredontwannagohome @mexifangorl @a-kind-of-magik

all my taglists and requests are open!!