#and im contemplating if i want it to be full color or not

[mrsthunderkin]

GOLLY-GEE do I love drawing Barty in his youth

[itspheenixbaby]

some alternate things i scripted about the world in my kpop dr

i originally kept my dr the same as my cr. but when i grew out of that my obsession with world building and social science kicked in full force.

now playing...prism / m-flo

the world is futuristic. think love and deepspace esque. we have holograms, high speed travel and advanced energy production. everywhere is equally very developed, but all in a way that suits the culture & environment instead of working against it. the world is modern, beautiful & clean. everywhere is colorful. the world is vibrant, sleek, efficient, full of personality and perfectly balanced.

painting is a highly respected and popular profession since 2020. maximalist, unique, topical and expressive art. with lots of color and varying art styles. artists are able to reach the same levels of success as they couldve in the pre-modern times.

acoris. a spanish brand that sells non alcoholic beverages in various flavors. everyone uses it, its sold everywhere, and has an incomprehensibly large "fanbase". the drink itself gives people a restless high, and insane boosts of energy. though not addictive or classified as a drug (frequently debated).

in person shopping is more popular. high quality, dirt cheap, and somehow ethically sourced trendy clothing are sold in "mall brands". there are thousands of different "mall brands" across the world in every country. they have differing styles per region/brand image reflecting the trends, culture and local materials of the area.

im addicted to my phone and so is the majority of gen z. i want to script phones out entirely, but a modern idols lifestyle is heavy on social media. i settled for ambiguously saying theres little to no technology addiction.

the entire population has a elemental manipulation abilities tied directly to zodiac. for example scorpios have water powers & aries have fire. this has just always been a thing, but for years scientists have been stumped by why. on their own these abilities are weak, but can be stronger with training and teamwork. because of this, humanity as a whole is more connected to nature.

contemplating scripting antartica is fully populated and not frozen. itd be hyper futuristic and very diverse. possibly considered every countries property or something so you can just go in and out? thatd be such a mess but it seems fun.

[hanbinniesmango]

First Kiss with Nct Dream (hyung line)

kyy note//: im like sleep deprived rn, but let’s not stop the grind🤭💗 anyways hope ya like ittt

mark: you guys are watching a movie after a long day out, you guys been laughing at scenes, cringing, and almost crying, and when talking about crying, it’s mostly you. the movies been going on for a while now, you both have ate your snacks and are now practically cuddling up near each other with the soft blankets lay atop both of you. the movie isn’t rated r at all, it’s rather more on the emotional side. you guys are watching it happily until a kissing scene comes up. the kissing on the screen is pretty intimate. it’s not marks fault that thoughts of you and him recreating that scene bubble up in his little head. he shifts in his seat and blush starts to dust his cheeks, he starts biting his lip contemplating if he should ask you. he’s watching you watch the movie happily. it’s almost like he’s studying you. studying the way you also blush, the way you did your hair today, the way smile slightly at the certain parts, the way you turn to to look at him when you see him staring at you. snap out of it mark! ask her! “can i..” he glances down to your lips, you looking at his and back at his eyes. “can i kiss you?…please?” he finally says with an exhale. “i would really like that now.” you say with a smile before he dives into your lips, kissing them gently. then your arms are around his neck, and his caressing your face lovingly. something’s telling you both this won’t be only a one time thing.

renjun: you somehow end up asleep on his lap, your phone by your side and his in his hand. he’s now pausing the video he was on to look down at you. he’s smiling at the comfortable state you’re in, your soft breathing, your placid face, not to admit the way you hug up to him, the fact that you even feel comfortable doing stuff like this with him! he’s just renjun, just plain old renjun. wait. why is he thinking about this, you’re his best friend, why is he staring at you with such intent?? he tries to catch himself, but you seem to have other plans. “renjun?…” you open your eyes and say, eyes darting up to the ones staring back above you. you see the way he’s looking at you, it isn’t just aimless, it’s full of something, and you’re sure you’re starting to feel it too. you both look each other in the eyes, he gets closer to your face. should he do it? what if— you lean up and connect your lips with his. he pulls away. he then goes back in for another, then another, then— now you guys are making out. woohoo!

jeno: you guys are a new couple and have been dating for at least 2-3 weeks now, but you’ve wanted to take it slow and be careful with it. you didn’t want to move too fast and mess something up so that’s how it’s been for the past weeks. you guys are out on a date at the park, somewhere with a beautiful outside exterior. the sun is shining on you, the flowers are bloomed fully, the birds are singing out, and there are kids laughing and playing around in the distance. you both are sitting on a park bench watching some kids play tag in the area, before he gets up. he walks off and crouches down in front of a flower bed. you tilt your head at him, wondering what he could be possibly doing. “what are you doin, nono?” you say with a hint of confusion. he pulls something up and then comes back over to you with a sweet smile. he holds a colorful flower near your face, it’s so beautiful. “i wonder who the real flower is?” he says. you giggle, finding his cheesy line funny. he then puts the flower behind your ear and caresses your cheek gently whilst staring at you lovingly. you look back up at him, leaning into his touch. he smiles wide before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “you’re so beautiful, sweets.” he mumbles out. “thanks ba—“ he leans down to kiss you, you freezing but then you start moving your lips with him. both of your lips moving slowly together. what a beautiful day.

haechan: he’s over at your place and you both are just chatting it out as usual. just one of those hours of the day where you both gossip, rant, talk about old times, shows, humor it out. it started out with you both talking about some old memories that happened at your younger ages, that one time when you fell of your bike and cried until you felt like you couldn’t cry anymore. you actually don’t know why you cried, either because you scuffed your knee or because you failed at riding and haven’t touched a bike since then. don’t know though! he laughs with you, agreeing with your stories, maybe disagreeing because he feels as if you’re making fun of him at certain parts. such a baby. he starts telling the dumbest jokes, even worse, they’re dad jokes. you groan out at most of them, sometimes cringing, then also laughing because you find his corny little jokes humorous. you guys then start talking about your love life in the past and nowadays. you tell him about how you haven’t found your special person yet and you’re just waiting for them to fall out the sky. ‘what if your special person was right in front of you this whole time? what if you didn’t have to wait?’ he thought all of a sudden. his eyes start trailing down to your lips, him watching your plush lips move, imagining how it would feel on his. while he’s zoned out on your lips you start to notice he’s not paying attention to you talking. you’re about to clear your throat to gain back attention, but then you see what all his attention is going to. your lips. was he watching you talk, just to see the way your lips were moving? affirmative! “haechan?” you speak out, snapping him out of his trance. he sends you multiple apologies trying to cover up until you ask him, “do you wanna kiss me channie?” and suddenly it’s quiet. that doesn’t stop him from nodding his head though. with a smile and some pink, dusted cheeks you both kiss and to you guys surprise, you both like it. it won’t hurt to steal another right?

[empthy1]

Best Friend - based on @diyasgarden's betting on loosing dogs cats and her cat headcanons. definitely go check them out if you haven't yet!!

the story of tashi and her childhood best friend (1.86k words)

tw: i have not seen the movie so all my knowledge is via osmosis. writing some of these scenes was cathartic. enjoy me working through my own grief and know my tears wet the keyboard. i may have forgotten about art a little bit but this is tashi centric so im just going to say whoops and move on

Tashi was a lonely child. It was just a fact. Even with siblings wrapped around her and hanging off her arms, she swept through her childhood with few permanent attachments.

She was vibrant, regardless of her seclusion. The bounce of her curls and the seemingly infinite energy she possessed endeared her to teachers and classmates. Bright, sparkling curiosity filled her eyes. The librarian saw the most of her, incidentally. With clumsy fingers and boosted toes, she tipped titles from higher and higher shelves, thicker and thicker books filling her arms and her Princess Aurora backpack.

After playdates, summer camps and schedules packed high with unfamiliar names, her parents finally acquiesced. There would be no friend for their daughter, not one she wanted.

Instead, that Christmas, she received two very special presents. An oddly shaped thing with one blunt, cylindrical end and, on the other side, a curved, flat plane; the other was a larger, rectangular box that mewled periodically, its princess wrapping paper massacred with pinholes. She anguishes when she sees a prick right over the left side of Aurora's shimmering pink dress.

Her parents initially direct her towards the oddly shaped gift, no matter how the mewling box draws her ears. Under the light of the rainbowed tree, the LEDs reflecting their colors over her full face, she unknowingly, and with youthful gusto, unwraps her future.

Her very own tennis racket. The gift included the promise of lessons, starting after her holiday break. She'd been curious about her parents' rackets, the handles much too big for her young, soft palms. Now, she can try it all on her own—emulating the fierce girls she revered on TV.

A whine from the larger box draws her attention again, and eyes shining with anticipation turn to her parents. A single nod, and little legs are scampering across the hardwood as she runs to delicately peel off the paper.

The cardboard box under it is as pricked as the wrapping paper, the top untaped. Reaching past the unassuming packaging, she's jolted when something touches her. Soft, with points as pokey as the needle that made the holes. She's nothing if not fearless, however.

As the cardboard flaps are peeled back one by one, the thing, no, paw that reached out to grab her tugs on the last one. It's small, orange, with tiny claws puncturing shallowly. Her fingers, larger and without as sharp nails, gently pries it off so she can finally open the box.

A kitten. A kitten sits, dwarfed by the size of the box. When she reaches for it, it retreats—sniffing her fingers before deciding her a worthy companion. It's all but eager now, pressing into her hands until she picks it up and cradles it to her chest. Its teensy chest starts to rumble with a crackly purr.

"She's yours." Startles her out of her revere, so absorbed in the little body against hers. Her mother's words are said with a smile. She finally found a friend, one that didn't live in pages. "All yours."

Her father chimes in not long after.

"What's her name, Natasha?"

A pause. Tashi blinks, contemplation in the set of her pout and in the subtle furrow in her brow. Her eyes don't stray from the yellows of her newest companion.

"Serena," comes, the resolve in her tone sounding odd in the heightened pitch of a six-year-old.

She'd grow into it.

She'd soon learned her two favorite sounds: the thwack of a tennis ball and the thundering of Serena's purr.

They were familiar, and borderline ordinary. She heard the first over and over, for hours at a time, multiple times a week. Serena's purr, in the same vein, was the thing that greeted her with the sun and lulled her into sleep. Yet, she thought them spectacular. Whenever they reached her ears, that golden smile appeared.

She was always good. Always spectacular at tennis. Sweeping through matches flooded her veins with sweet adrenaline, sweat that dropped to the court marking her path to the stars. Even when she'd left them all behind, flown far away and was weightless in her tennis shoes, it'd say: I, Tashi Duncan, was here. I won.

The thing that brought her back to Earth was simple. Even with the lure of the stars, the rumbling, crackling purr and sweet meows, like the quake she experienced at eleven and the cracking boom of thunder she'd once feared, grounded her in her emotions. Her feelings, not for boys but for Serena overflowed from her heart and spilled out like a split dam, widening her smiles and filling her mind, motivating her game and keeping her present.

At seventeen she was up-and-coming. Her birthday fell a few days after the US Open, so on her last few days as a child, she bundled up with her familiar friend and boarded the metal plane. It would be her wings, giving her that taste of future freedom, of the sky she reached for.

Her transcendence faded in sleep, leaving just a girl and her cat, sleepy and covered in shed hair and so, so young.

She won. She won the Junior Open.

Everything's set in stone now. She can see her future playing out—at Stanford, tearing through the competition and tearing through the pages of novels (she never quite lost her love for words; instead it evolved from Junie B. Jones to Mary Shelley.) Then, she'd go pro, breaking out into the Grand Slams like a comet blazing by.

Art and Patrick were the unexpected twist.

Zweig and Donaldson. Fire and Ice. The perfect duo. One would be joining her at Stanford. The other? Leaving for the intense performance of the pros with her number stashed in his mobile—left sweating under the stage lights of expectations states away.

Whether he'd buckle under the intensity was to be seen. At least his green crash pad was well in place, waiting to be fallen back on.

Practice was routine.

Art was routine.

Serena was at home, with her parents.

The separation was killing her. Some days, especially hearing the thwack of the ball, she felt the ache of her halved heart. She knew she wouldn't go home to her second (first) favorite sound.

Red. There's a lot of red at Stanford, Tashi noticed. Even in her dorm room, the banner on her wall and poster above her bed, the jacket strewn over her chair and the sweaty shorts discarded on her floor. The red apples of Patrick's cheeks and the pinkening to his lips. She let her eyes close and welcomed their press and the darkness behind her eyelids.

They were good. They were fine. He was fine. Then they weren't.

Tashi always knew her heart was fragmented. Tennis, Serena, Patrick. Each one beat independent, for the most part. When they synced was euphoric.

One of her best memories was during her spring break. Patrick had a break before his next tournament, and they packed up in his dingy car to putter back to her parents'. Spending the week there, lounging like house cats, lobbing lazy forehands back and forth and falling asleep every night to Serena's crackling purr and Patrick's heavy arm over her.

It was the most alive she'd every felt.

The game. The game was all that mattered. Not Patrick flaking. Not the absence of her friend. Just the game. That was the piece of her heart still intact.

Then her knee pops sickeningly, releasing out from under her and all she could see was red.

Stanford fans in the stands and her opponent's flushed cheeks, Art's crimson shirt and the pain red-hot behind her eyelids.

The darkness when her eyes shut was a comfort once again. It hides the sight of her swelling, purpling knee. It doesn't stop the pain.

Maybe she'd slip into a blessed unconsciousness.

100 years, Maleficent proclaimed. The princess shall sleep.

She'd never play tennis again, that much was clear. The doctor been almost certain.

Art tried to make her feel better. All she could think of was a familiar rumble she ached for.

She was released to spend a few weeks at her parents, away from the worry of school and her emotional turmoil. A few weeks with Serena, to get back to their routine, to the purrs on her chest and the weaving beneath her feet.

Serena was a bit more careful staying underfoot after her first smell of her braced knee and the sight of her white crutches.

Maybe she'd log her as an emotional support pet, just so she wouldn't loose her whole heart when she went back.

She didn't get that far. She didn't even have the time to get the paper.

Serena fell from Tashi's bed and broke her pelvis a week in. The howl she made was a new noise. One she never should have made.

They spent the whole day at the emergency vet. Tashi's eyes had never been so red-rimmed. She cried, in that sterile waiting room, as they took Serena back and cooed sadly.

She fell into an exhausted sleep, buried in her mother's side with her lip still caught between her teeth.

The doctor's thought the break was suspicious. Cats are usually springier, the vet had said. Even the older ones, like her. She was kind, and caring. Her green scrubs, pattered with paw prints, slowly became orange with Serena's fur. Her hands were warm when they handed her the lab papers.

Bone cancer, the plain black text said, in it's painfully ordinary font. The type that, apparently, had crept through Serena's body and made itself a home in her lungs. It burrowed, unwanted, in the place that held her life. It infected the space right above her heart. Waiting longer, says the vet, would be cruel.

She didn't even look at the amount of tumors they found. Once she saw the double digits she shattered, just that bit more.

The vet gave her time to say her goodbyes. It was all they really could do.

Thirteen years. Thirteen years they'd grown together.

Serena was once bundled in too-big cardboard, clawing energetically at the walls and sinking pinprick claws into her shirt.

Now, she's swaddled in a soft blanket, looking fat and warm but so, so tired.

Tashi holds her on her aching knee and weeps. She presses warm lips press to the forehead of her first friend, her favorite thing. Slender arms cradle this beautiful baby cat to her chest. Serena is sedated, a little medicine for the pain. Her purr's crackling now, muted and rattling. A soft, small paw presses to Tashi's tear-streaked, tawny cheek.

It's time to go, she hears faintly. It feels like she has her head underwater. Her throat and lungs and fingers squeeze as the needle slides in, past fluffed, orange fur. Serena doesn't even flinch. Yet, Tashi feels like she's drowning.

Her form (little, so little. Her baby—) goes limp in her lap.

How's she supposed to survive with no heart?

The next morning arrives with silence. Not even the chirping of the birds.

She curls tight in a too-empty bed and feels her heart wither in her chest.

[pawtasticpuppers]

TIPS TO MAKE A FURSONA: PT. 1

Hello! Im Cereal (Or Vinny!!) ive been in the furry community for almost 5 years now and draw for a living, and today im teaching you:

How to make your fursona!

When you first join the furry fandom, while its optional, you may want to make a fursona to represent your anthro self! But if you dont know what it is, I have a definition! A fursona (a combination of "furry" and "persona") is essentially an anthropomorphized animal character that represents a person in the furry community. Someone's fursona usually reflects some aspects of the person's own personality, hobbies, and interests. It can be anything from a simple drawing to a detailed 3D model, cosplay, or even a full-body costume (fursuit). People use their fursonas to express themselves and interact with each other in the furry community.. Some of the most common fursonas in the furry fandom include foxes, wolves, cats, and dogs. Some less common but still popular fursonas are bears, raccoons, rabbits, and bats. There are also many mythical or fictional animals that furries may choose as their fursona, such as dragons, and unicorns (popularized by MLP) Some furries may even create hybrid fursonas, like tiger-dragon or wolf-cat. The most "basic" (no shame in this!) is the Wolf. Its generally seen as the default! Some uncommon fursonas in the furry fandom include:

Elephants

Sloths

Giraffes

Zebras

Deer

Owls

Penguins

Hedgehogs (Excluding Sonic!!!)

Turtles

Fish

Bats

Rhinos

Otters

Seals

Walruses

Anteaters

Scorpions

Snakes

Worms (yes, really, and they are beautiful.)

Some stereotypes about certain fursona species include: Wolves: Alpha males, tough and strong. Foxes: Sly, cunning, and quick-witted. Cats: Independent, aloof, and often aloof. Bears: Big, burly, and often cuddly. Rabbits: Soft, sweet, and cuddly. Dragons: Majestic, powerful, and sometimes aloof. Tigers: Strong, fierce, and independent. Owls: Wise, mysterious, and nocturnal. Pandas: Laid-back, cute, and clumsy. But!! Foxes have a very odd stereotype The "femboy fox" stereotype likely arose from a combination of factors. Historically, foxes in folklore and mythology have often been depicted as cunning, deceptive, and even trickster-like figures. This has often led some people to stereotype foxes as being sneaky, sly, and somewhat devious. Additionally, foxes are generally considered cute animals, which may have contributed to the idea of some foxes being portrayed as more feminine or "cute" in artwork and other media. Ultimately, the femboy fox stereotype is likely just a byproduct of these various factors and how foxes are commonly portrayed in popular culture.

Is it bad to fall into these stereotypes? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! Everyone is unique and can make whatever they want!! Now that we have gotten past species and what a fursona is, now how to make one!

Creating a fursona is an exciting and creative endeavor that allows individuals to express their identity through an anthropomorphic animal character. To begin, start by contemplating what characteristics resonate with you personally. Consider traits such as personality, interests, and even your values. For instance, if you’re adventurous and energetic, you might choose a fox or a wolf, both of which are often associated with such qualities. Alternatively, if you identify with gentleness and nurturing tendencies, a deer or a rabbit could encapsulate those traits effectively. Using the aesthetics, traits and looks can help on the design aspects of your fursona. Think about the species you want to represent, the colors of their fur, and any additional markings or patterns that could convey your personality better. Many fursonas also include unique features, like bright-colored accents or accessories that reflect hobbies or interests—such as headphones for a music lover or goggles for an aspiring pilot. Drawing inspiration from various sources, including real animals, mythology, and even pop culture, can help you visualize and refine your fursona’s look!!!

Once you have a basic idea of your fursona's personality and design, it's time to give them a name. This name can be a reflection of their traits, an amalgamation of words you love, or even a play on words. The right name can further embody the essence of your character and make them feel more real to you. Finally, consider how you want to portray your fursona in different contexts, such as social media, art, or even attending conventions. Engaging with the furry community can also provide support and inspiration, as sharing your fursona with others often leads to meaningful connections and friendships among fellow enthusiasts. Creating a fursona is a journey of self-discovery and imagination, allowing you to explore facets of yourself in a fun and artistic way.

Here are some names! John William James Robert Michael David Richard Thomas Charles Joseph Mark Paul Peter Daniel Andrew Matthew Chris Christopher Sarah Elizabeth Mary Jennifer Emily Jessica Anna Amanda Hannah Ashley Leah Rachel Sophia Samantha Madison Olivia Emma Grace

[kpop-with-mars]

|12 Days of Drabbles|Day 8; Blue Moon|

{Chiba Mamoru x M!SailorMoon!Reader}

{Plot; Y/N is at the party with tuxedo mask (Unknowingly)}

{A/N - Y'all i was kinda lazy with this one im sorry T~T}

{Word count; 582}

{Tags; Male reader, sailor moon reader, Fluff, Drabble,}

Y/N couldn’t stop Mamoru from whisking him away on the ballroom floor, and frankly he didn’t want him to. With this kind of atmosphere—drinks, playful chatter, romance—it aided in lifting Y/N’s stress from having dealt with more enemies sent by Queen Baryl. The other sailors were either on the sidelines talking, getting a drink, or dancing with another guy. Y/N hoped Mamoru wasn’t too uncomfortable with their close proximity; he always enjoyed Mamoru’s, but sometimes he wished that Mamoru would just press his hands further into his skin and lean in and—“Y“/N, your feet are a little wobbly; do you need to rest?” His voice pushed Y/N out of his thoughts. The sailor-soldier might have had a bit of a long walk from school to his house thanks to missing the bus; mixed in with the fighting earlier sure exhausted him. He nodded, and Mamoru took him out to the balcony.

“Hm, a full moon…” Y/N pointed out as he looked up to the sky, he sat on the stone bench beside Mamoru on the balcony. “Full moon again? It must be a blue moon.” Mamoru gazed up at the moon as well, and Y/N couldn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes even through his mask…

His mask sure made him look familiar.

Y/N’s eyes widen a tad, but he doesn’t let Mamoru see when he turns his gaze back to the man beside him. “How have you been recently?… You seem more tired than usual, even for an airhead like you.” He teased, and Y/N huffed, “I’m fine; I missed the bus earlier, and I was, uh, working out as well.” He said quickly, trying to ignore the way his heart seemed to beat faster with each of Mamoru’s words. Mamoru raised his eyebrows and smirked, “Working out? You must fit in with the other dumbbells.” He chuckled, and Y/N wasn’t mad as soon as he heard that laugh, and it caused his face to warm and pinken in a soft blush. Mamoru stopped when he saw the look in Y/N’s eyes and the new color on his face; Mamoru was starting to think that Y/N was even cuter like this, with that look of fondness and adoration in the smaller man’s eyes. He coughed a little, and the air around them fell silent, save for the party that was inside, and they both looked away from each other.

“Mamoru?…” Y/N spoke up, his tone indicating that he was a little nervous. He looked up at Y/N as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah?” Y/N bit his lip in contemplation. ‘Just ask him out!’ His thoughts shouted at him. “Have you ever dated a guy before?” ‘NO, that wasn’t what I was supposed to say!’ Y/N felt the awkward question leave his mouth along with any moisture left in it. Mamoru’s eyes widened, and he started to smile again. “No… But— He took Y/N’s hand in his. “It’s you, and I don’t care much about your gender… Sailor Moon. Y/N let out a small gasp and abruptly stood, Mamoru following suit. “It—it is you! That's why you look so familiar with that mask.” Y/N’s smile soon took over his lips, and he hugged Mamoru tightly. The taller man held him as well and ran a hand through Y/N’s silky hair, a feeling of déjà vu washing over them both, no doubt from a millennia ago on the moon.

“My Sailor Moon.”

“And my tuxedo mask.”

[avenging-fandoms]

IM HERE B.

can you imagine rafe's face when he finally gets the response from you caving into him?

he'd pick up his phone, seeing the text from you.

"your place or mine?" he'd smirk, thinking he's got you wrapped around his finger.

"how about mine? i'll pick you up so no one suspects anything?"

"fine, but don't make me wait too long"

"alright, on my way"

he'd be in his car INSTANTLY, since you sent him your address already.

you started to get ready since your house was only a short distance to his. you were contemplating whether or not to wear cute lingerie since its rafe fucking cameron. you tried to keep your cool but then you heard his car pull up, your memories of last friday are back in your mind and you're down the stairs and out the door. you told you mom you were going out to a party so she didn't suspect anything.

rafe was just sitting in his jeep, with the radio down low but you could still hear his music, he was looking down at his phone but when he saw you, he smiled instantly, which was odd, even for him.

"hi princess, miss me?" he'd look at you, still smiling at you.

"i could never miss you, rafe" you'd joke, placing your bag down at your feet.

he'd look at you, before reversing out of your driveway. the drive was silent, but not too long before you arrived at tannyhill.

"no one's home, so we can enjoy ourselves" rafe would break the silence, smirking at you, before turning off the ignition and hopping out of the car. you'd also hop out, staring at the gorgeous house in front of you.

"what have i gotten myself into?" you'd question yourself, already feeling flustered at the situation.

part one part two part three <- (you are here) part four

series playlist

-

"Why?! What the fuck are you doing?" You paced your room, phone in hands as you wished you could unsend a message.

Rafe: How about my place. So I don't park my very recognizable Jeep outside your house where people I know live in the neighborhood and risk getting caught.

Yn: fine. but if you make me wait more than an hour i'm blocking you.

Rafe: See you soon, princess.

You screamed into your pillow. You stood up and headed to your closet, pulling out a tennis skirt and a shirt that showed your boobs perfectly. Your eyes move to your drawer where your lingerie pieces sat. You opened the drawer and looked over the different materials and colors, quickly closing it with your hip.

Rafe had to earn those.

You decided on an outfit, sitting on your bed with your leg crossed over the other as you tried to calm your nerves, but all you thought about was his big hands all over your body. Your phone dung that he was here and you roll your eyes, exhaling quickly before heading out of your room.

"Where are you going all cute?" Your mom asks and you smile, adjusting your purse on your shoulder.

"A party with Ava, It's a tennis theme I guess? I don't know, you know the people she knows" Your mom laughs and tells you to be safe, and you close the door behind you.

There he was, Rafe Cameron, in your driveway. His elbow leaned on his window, his face illuminated by his phone. His music wasn't loud, but you could still faintly understand some words. You took a couple steps down and his head popped up, a smile on his face.

He didn't get out, just unlocked the door. "Princess.. how much did you miss me?" He locked his phone, looking at you quickly before shifting the gear to reverse, foot on the brake.

"Oh, more than anything in the world, Rafe Cameron" You reply sarcastically, Rafe looking you up and down as you bend over to put your bag in between your feet. He reverses out of your driveway, and you inhale sharply as you watch his hand as he turns the wheel, his palm flat on it with his veins popping and ring on full display.

The car ride was quiet. Not that uncomfortable silence that makes you want to tuck and roll on the freeway, but the comfortable silence where you're both in your own thoughts and you're comfortable with one another.

You were always in awe of Tannyhill. Rafe put the car in park, unbuckling his seatbelt. "No one's home, so we can enjoy the whole place to ourselves" Rafe lost the quiet game and you nod, grabbing your bag as he shuts off the ignition and you stand behind him. "Ready?"

He holds out his hand. High five? No, then he'd just get you an Uber. You grabbed his hand and he smiled, taking you into the mansion. Everywhere you looked, you saw a visual of you and Rafe on top of it.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"Want anything to drink, princess?" Rafe asks and you shake your head, grabbing his shirt and bringing him down to kiss you. "Where?"

"Anywhere, Rafe, just fuck me"

He was wrapped around your finger already, and he was fucked.

[httpsawesome]

HIIII!!! this is the person from ao3 asking where to submit fanart ^^, and once again i want to say how much i ADORED your work!!!!! you captured their characters so well and did an amazing job with writing vickys contemplation around transitioning!! since reading, i havent been able to get these little fuckers off of my mind, and i NEEDED to draw this, so here you go!! ^^*

!

THIS

IS

BEAUTIFUL??!!!?!??!?! IM LOSING MY MIND AHHHHHHHHHH

i full on had to pace around my kitchen to gather my thoughts because the just HONOR of having fanart made of my work has made me speechless and you sent SO MUCH. and it looks SO GOOD! JUDIT! AHHHHHH THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

And Vicky is so beautiful here with her gorgeous dress and her hair all done and makeup is beautiful, and you captured Harry helping her with that! I love Kim in the background shaving his head while they're bickering affectionately about the eyeliner TuT AND THE CONCEPTULIZATION BUBBLE OF THE T-SHIRT IS SO FUNNY!!! Kim looking on disapprovingly!

And also it all being pink is lovely on its own - my favorite color :3c (along with green, they are tied)

I'm going to stare at this forever just so you know.

[kirnet]

tag people you want to get to know better!

i am very late but thank you @rosebarsoap @druidgroves @lavampira @nsewell and @pinkfey for tagging me in this!! i am sure this has already made the rounds so ignore me if you've already done this, but tagging @saintalessia @arcenergy @asexualastarion @bethesdas @much-mercie and anyone else who wants to do this!

LAST SONG: heartbreak feels so good - fob

CURRENTLY WATCHING: a lot of naomi jon youtube vids while i paint. also started TD season 2 but i havent finished the first ep yet.

THREE SHIPS: UUUUHHHHHH benny/raiden kirnet/atton and avvid/astarion which is abraham ruthie's tav. i am dearly obsessed with them

FAVORITE COLOR: blue!! love a super saturated blue

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: water <3 and i just had a gf bagel

FIRST SHIP: perc'ahlia??? i think???

PLACE OF BIRTH: norcal!

CURRENT LOCATION: socal!

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: contemplating either downloading a dating app or wandering into the mist. but neither of those sound appealing so im just smashing my lil ocs together to make them kith

LAST MOVIE: ...barbie??? a few months ago??? i dont watch a lot of movies rip

CURRENTLY WORKING ON: i had a big painting day so ive got a couple cloud paintings + a self portrait going on. also wrapping up the donation commissions! always actium always. im also rewriting my jjk oc fic grave + weep so im in the middle of outlining that. dbtw is also there but i got stuck on this chap and just couldn't push through... i need the twc brainrot to come back in full in order to push through. also also also a new dnd campaign! still have to work on the actual stat blocks and maps (paris and i are also making a city map together!) but i have a lot of arcs outlined. very excited to start that up!

[minmin-pal]

i don't know how to open this ask, this is really just random words from a stranger who never met you. this whole thing is unwarranted as hell and i'm really sorry about that 

today's my 46th day of knowing you existed

(Im proofreading this so heads up for random rant;;)

the terms placed for people contemplating are 'suicidal' or 'severely depressed' and the media often paints it as if that's their only feature, whether this is in a foreign article that almost always focuses on the shock factor rather than full-detailed accounts of the event or other examples like this

clickbait and shocking titles, limited information to help form the 'tragic tale' that satisfies the notion of events in the reader's heads. why would a reader want to know about what the individual thought or felt? why would they want to know about the slow piling up of events or circumstances, over several years that always weighed on the individual? why would they want to know:

what color did they like?

how they passed the time?

what weather did they like?

what was on their mind?

what did they think of days before committing?

the articles always say, maybe: "a girl from pakistan killed herself", "man shoots himself", "woman jumps off the golden gate bridge", etc.

the location, the method of death, the gender. it all focuses on details like that, i understand why they might not put the names, what relevance would a name have? why would the world care about this name? it's just a name, it could be any gender, race, class, age. sure these details might be given once you click on the title but that's to give more information to the sentence, the headline, that caught your attention. to humanize and make you feel more sympathetic to an individual you already know the fate of. seeing "amy jumps off a building" isn't what gets people to click. amy could be a guy, amy could be 58, amy could be brown, amy could be anyone. but 'child jumps off a building' that catches people's attention. 

often, the names of minors aren't even given so the more you read in the article, the more you'll learn about this 'child' that jumped off. you'll know this child lost both parents, you'll know the child was bullied, you'll know the child "had such a bright future ahead of them." anything that the writer thinks will make you feel more pity for this child. why would the writer write about: how the child showed bruising but the adults didn't notice? how the child grieved for their parents and the legal guardian didn't see? even if they did notice and tried, why would the writer write about all the ways the child was crying for help? you already know how it ended, the billions of people in the world won't care for 'irrelevant' details.

all they'll take away is that someone somewhere in the world died, maybe if it's pitiful or attention-grabbing enough, it'll be worth off-handedly mentioning in conversation later on. "man goes crazy and kills his family" is a better headline that'll grab people's attention, that'll get them talking about it for a few days. "man kills himself due to debt", debt is a word everyone is familiar with, it doesn't carry the same 'shock' factor, it's something that is easier for people to comprehend. you don't hear someone mentioning "oh yea, a guy killed himself from his debt yesterday!" why would you? no one talks about it because it happens every day, every hour. most don't even get articles, they just got rounded up to a statistic. 

of course, circumstances matter, the names will be mentioned and their death will be talked about, especially if you were associated with them. this 'shocking' event that doesn't happen normally happened, and you were maybe a friend of a cousin. it doesn't emotionally affect you but it does give you something to talk about, it breaks you out of your monotonous normal for maybe an hour. The novelty quickly wears out and you've milked it for what it was worth, maybe a few conversations and the occasional 'sorry for your loss'.

( i'm sorry i'm doing the 'overcomplicate a simple message for no reason' thing again )

people will know someone died, they'll know the barebone details or whatever other details the writer thought to add to maximize the effect of however long the average attention span of 8.25 seconds is focused on their article. "who's gonna give a fuck about random details?" readers just want to know why this teen shot a damn class up. 

( feel free to skip to here since the rant kinda ends here?)

but then i found this blog, then i read through the posts that are pretty much just a snippet of your current thoughts when writing it, words put together to form what you were thinking or feeling at that moment. i guess i'm in the same position as the article readers? i clicked on your profile after reading the post that started with "i am going to die on august 1st", and so i already had an idea of how it would end, and then i kept reading, an idea of this person named 'min' formed in my head, rough ideas of what specific parts of their life, thoughts that got shared, as opposed to the ones that were thought alone and never shared ( on this blog at least? im don't know really). 

a very, very rough image has been formed and then i'm left to think "oh, these words i'm reading are the communicated thoughts and feelings of a real living person going through all this right this moment", i don't know this person or what they're going through. i don't know anything but the snippets of thoughts that were shared through a tumblr blog.

i thought back to all those articles and stuff spread across the internet, 'how do you help a contemplating person?' ( well i suppose by the time i found this blog, the better term would be 'contemplated' person? someone whose already decided on it? i might not have said any of this clearly at all, i'm sorry about that ) and the thing i remembered most was "remind them that life is worth living, that this suffocating and seemingly endless pain and suffering CAN get better." those words seemed to make sense at the time when i read them

( i- don't really know the whole point of this ask either, i don't know if i'm attempting to accomplish something? what am i trying to get across? and i can assume you can tell that already by this ask so far im sorry. )

but which could be considered more 'selfish'? contemplating/committing or telling someone "it will get better" when no one knows if it will? especially a random stranger through the internet? if "it will get better" sounds pompous coming from someone who knows you in real life, how bad would it sound from a complete and virtual stranger? how could i send an ask saying "it will get better/just hang on/etc." when i don't even properly comprehend what your going through? what you've been going through for years? no matter, i'm sorry i couldn't provide however fickle or non-existent the comfort you could've gotten from a virtual stranger saying "it'll be okay" after only seeing a vent of yours /gen i know it would've done next to nothing, forget not meaning anything it might've come off as well arrogant and self-righteous i suppose? i don't know

i'm repeating at this point, i don't know why i sent this ask. the finality and nearing of the day dawned on me i guess? i don't know how you feel or anything like that, so i'm just going on with the thought that you've already decided on this and will go through with it on august 1st

i'm sorry it's led to this

i'm sorry this wasn't a life where you could've been happy

i'm sorry you had to go through things no one should have to go through

i'm sorry for all the apologies you never got, for all shit you went through

thank you for living as long as you have

thank you for liking jjba as much as you do

thank you for being passionate about the things you care about

thank you for communicating

thank you for sharing

thank you for feeling

thank you for creating 

thank you for being yourself

i don't know what happens after well, this i guess. what happens after your heart stops beating, what happens when your consciousness stops, when your being stops well-being. maybe it's a big vast void? maybe it's just nothing, as though a tape just stops rolling. maybe there really is an afterlife? i know you said you know you're going to hell, and i acknowledge i know nothing about you personally so this will come off as well i guess- bs to you, since your the only one who knows what being in your situation feels like and you know yourself more but, sincerely, i hope you end up somewhere nice. somewhere that can give you all the love and happiness that you didn't get from this life. somewhere that's free from trouble and where you can smile, where you can be happy. i don't know where that is, heck maybe heaven and hell aren't real, maybe it's not a void and everyone's wrong. maybe it's something completely different, whatever it is, i hope you can be genuinely happy.

thank you for getting me excited to watch jjba and reading killer in love, I'm at the 4th chapter right now and i don't know if by the time i finish reading, well, you'd still be around but from what I've read so far it's definitely what you said it would be lol/pos, the art really is just as pretty as you said it would be and the story isn't something I'm used to though i guess that's to be expected since i don't read much phycological/scary manga, I've definitely been enjoying it though! :D✨⭐

i don't know if this will be discortoues(?) or i dunno rude maybe, but when i reach the ending of killer in love and even when i finally get to death 13 in jjba, i promise i'll tell you what i thought about them :D try as you may,  even if you didn't spoil anything (im honestly surprised you didn't???/gen) you've gassed jjba up a lot so let's see if it lives up to all the hype >:) /lh/pos (i know it will lol)

i don't know if i said this enough times but i really love your art lmao/pos every single style you have is so new and unique to me, one of the numbered artworks you posted? eleventh and/or twelveth i think? i was very blown away by the perspectives, i don't know how long you worked on them but they all (your artworks) look very lovely and your shading and character designs, all the details and just the artwork itself is very pretty.

i realize this ask is getting comedically a bit too long now lol, sorry abt that/gen i guess i just want to make the moment last a little bit longer? I dunno, it'll be weird opening your blog on aug 2nd, but i'll make sure to keep my promise about sending you that ask once I've finished killer in love then jjba :D/gen (i swear ill finish it someday, slowly chip away at it with my prison spoon lmao) how much u wanna bet the afterlife has wifi lol /j

i don't know our time difference so i don't know if you'll still be hanging around when i send in that ask about killer in love so i guess i'll just put this in this ask, an all-in-one package ig lol?

it's been nice getting to know you min, i never would've actually thought to watch jjba until we talked about it (thank you for answering all my previous asks by the way, i never really expected an answer after maybe the second one? so it was a nice surprise every time:) )

i don't know if this tumblr hellsite will still be kicking in a few years or smth lol, but I'll check back in to this blog every once in a while with the jjba progress updates (hope that doesn't come off as rude or anything ;;/gen) dunno, maybe in a few years i'll have learned how i could've helped you more or at least made better company thru my random anon asks lmao, i assume being able to talk about what you liked in jjba would've been more fun instead of having to censor and avoid almost everything because of spoilers:')

it's been a weird but memorable past 46 days and (this part might sound weird considering my earlier tangents but) i'll miss you min

thank you and- i hope your happy? however way this ends, whatever's waiting in the after, whenever it ends up happening, i sincerely, with my heart, hope your able to be happy someday. whether here or somewhere else. or maybe, at least not in pain anymore/lh/gen

it's been nice, i'll be thinking of u when i finally watch jjba:D<3!/gen (bro u've gassed it up sm imma cry if i don't understand the lore lol, how am i supposed to get jumpscared by j giel if i don't know the lore/hj/lh)

(mandatory apology for all the possible spelling errors and just general weird grammar or ig ranting that makes no sense? i didn't have much of a plan when i wrote this, i just needed to- well i guess, send this to you? i don't know if that made sense lmao, i kinda started getting a bit teary around the 'thank you' bits so english started dying there lol)

but well, i guess this is the actual ending bit now.

thank you and goodbye min, it's been very fun and it was nice meeting you, thank you once again and i'll miss you

<3

oh man

im not going to reread what i type because then i'll start ugly crying so i'm sorry for the typos and weird line breaks theres going to be\ also i might seem a little weirder than usual- this is cuz i am speaking unfiltered-ly

i keep typing out a response, but i just cant say anything of worth m

i cant say shit im typing things out and reading them and deleting them

hjerfskjdkjldjkkdf iread your rant, and ive typed like3 long responses to it but deleted the, because honestly i having nothing to say i agree with ur sentiment but i cant form the words to agree and im physically running out of time as i write this i realize so let me just. get this over with mikey, custard it fills me with a small amount of sadness to know that this is how we met, that this is our friendship of sorts but i'm happy i could talk to u about. anime and art and mangas.. im happy i could just tell u about dumb silly stuff i really like and that u responded all the time

its 10:30 am as im writing this i'm aiming to die tomorrow at 12, since thats usually when anyone comes to check on me (food and whatever) korean standard time or kst please send whatever asks you have (like the killer in love one)s to me and if you want

maybe hell or heaven or the expansive void has a tiny little library where you can go in and use their computers and read their ever-updating history books and maybe there i;ll read all your asks onl if you feel obliged to. promises to dead people don't matter after all

im really happy youve enjoyed my art and stuff too know ive said it already but i really do appreciate it i appreciate every little dumb thing ever

also some of my posts (mostly text ones) may be gone ive deleted a lot of ask replies or just untagged things i said my tiny thoughts really. or things that people asked to probe for those tiny thoughts i shouldnt have deleted them, but i was hit with a bout of self loathing after i read an older post of mine byebye to you too custard boy mikey and i dont mind the length ever im happy u. typed this all out dont dwell on what u couldve done too much.. its been a long time coming honestly

thank you again

um and

wanted to comment on this part

i remember when i made that post about dying in august overall its gotten the most notes out of everything i posted

there was one account, who commented and said something about how i have people who care about me, that me dying isnt worth it.. how i had a bright futere ahead of me and that i should tough it out and when i read that i croak laughed why would that matter in assocition to what you referenced?

i think its because its my little small scale equivalent that i "have a bright future ahead" and i shouldnt do it all those other little details, all ive been going through, all the signs dont really matter because at my funeral theyll say how i had a long time ahead of me, that "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" (<- that saying genuinely pisses me off)

um and this is SO corny. but i randomly remembered the end of... minecraft.... poem

i like this part. sorry im off topic i like showing u stuff

maybe im just talking again sorry mikey thank you aswell

[ardn631-isobelchilberto-2024]

Week 2 - Self Portraits x3

David Uzochukwu

Source: https://myportraithub.com/dark-and-intense-self-portraits-of-david-uzochukwu/

David has used the shadows outside of the frame of the window to create a frame surrounding himself. The available light from outside highlights him. The mood is quite and slightly somber due to the low lighting that feels like it's at dusk. His body language alludes to contemplation which is continued by him looking out the window. I really like how he's used the natural light to his advantage and Im inspired by the mood he has created. Though I'm not sure if I'll be able to recreate this photo due to my location but I want to try it out none less the less.

Deana Lawson

Sourse: https://www.vogue.com/article/deana-lawson

The framing in this photo is beautiful. She has used the tree to frame herself and the soft pink color blends nicely into the backdrop. The camera and her sit perfectly in the centre. The focus crisp and clear on herself and her camera. The way she looks at us the viewer feels almost confrontational like we are intruding, like we should be the ones having the photo taken of us. The lighting is bright in contrast to her facial expression so the mood feels slightly cold but like we are the ones intruding.

Philippe Halsman

Grace Kelly Jump, Source: https://www.artsy.net/artwork/philippe-halsman-grace-kelly-jump-1

I chose this image as I loved the idea of showing movement in portrait photography. I like the framing of this photo, as her body is in the centre frame, her face at the top, and her feet in the air below. It feels candid and alive, and the facial expression she has gives the photo a playful and happy mood. The shadow at the bottom grounds the photo and, along with the flooring, reminds us that she's in motion. The bright white backdrop is a stark contrast to her black dress, which allows her to pop out more. I want to trial this style of photography as I love the idea of capturing movement and life in a person. The full body shot also allows the figure more personality and expression.

[caestoexist]

GOING HOME / TO FEED MY BROTHER

by caeser

after i dropped him off i just drove. i couldn't tell you where i was going, all i know is that i thought i was going home until i realized i wasn't turning into my street.

i kept driving further down main street, turning left at the "keep right" sign, turning onto parkland ave, and then suddenly i was on james street. i drove slow and turned my music down, thinking of young kids in houses trying to sleep. i had been that kid. on this street. as i got a little closer to the yellow house, or the old house, as we call it now, i saw a sign.

"block party!

saturday the 29th

3pm-8pm"

i remembered the block party that made me think all block parties would be live music, scootering with other kids my age, and soda, which was new and exciting at the time. it's not anymore, and the last block party i went to was all old people and food i didn't eat and one person i knew from school but didn't talk to, but i still took a picture of the sign.

i turned around in the driveway of the old house, because the other option means going down to a street that reminds me of him, and fuck him. he doesn't even get to be a part of this story, not anymore. it doesn't matter to me that i blame him for things that aren't even his fault, because i never blamed him for anything when it was his fault, so i have plenty of catching up to do. i drove by the house slower than i'd driven the rest of the way. the door was a different color than it was when we lived there.

as i turned right off of james street, it occurred to me that i always drove home from the old house the same way that we drove to and from the red house, while we were moving. i remember taking that sharp turn onto parkland ave, sitting in the back of the van, on the floor, with all the stuff next to me, and being excited and nervous and so giddy to be allowed to sit on the floor instead of in a seat, just cuz it was different.

of course i still drive that same way. felix had commented on it once, at that very spot, saying how i always took the strangest routes places, but it always worked out. i guess i hadn't thought of it as strange. i guess it hadn't occurred to me that there were other ways to drive.

i got to the cliff and tower overlooking my town, where i guess i had gone to write, with mental images of me looking over the edge and realizing that i don't have a cigarette to smoke, and so simply sitting and typing on my phone until everything internal was external, or at least, on my phone screen. however, my internal images didn't account for other people. i'm always alone in my head, i guess. but now that i'm here, and there are two cars full of teenagers bumping music, i really don't want to get out of the prius.

ever since the incident with alder, where those fucking retards tried to beat us up, i haven't trusted loud teenagers. or any teenagers in a herd. im trusting by nature but i know how dangerous other teenagers can be. i know i was never raised tough enough to deal with them.

instead i pull in next to them, turn off all the lights in my car, pull out my phone, and try to ignore the anxious feeling i get whenever i think i see movement in the corner of my vision. it's always just me, typing on my phone screen, reflected in the window.

i avoid looking at them, as i know from experience that anything, even something as small as eye contact, could set off the type of people who would beat you up. or call you names. like dead squirrel. earlier, the librarian said she liked my email. squirrel, at blankmail dot com. that's me. i guess.

finally the two cars leave, one right after the other, confirming my suspicion that they were together. yikes and double yikes, thank god they left. two seperate cars of teenagers is less scary than two correlated cars of them. at least if they're unrelated, there's a chance that if one car happens to take issue with you, the other car will step in and help.

i contemplate getting out of the car, now, to look over the edge and try to remember what felt so freeing the first time i drove without my parents in the car, the day i came up here and climbed out as far as i could without falling off that cliff, and grabbed the furthest bottle top that i could. i still have that bottle top. maybe i should get out.

but i'm hungry. and i have frozen chicken and vegetable dumplings in the back seat, because i'm sick of the pork ones, and because i finally caved to my impulses and just went to cvs to buy dinner instead of looking thru the fridge again. $5.34 cents poorer, but hey. food is good. i'm good. i'm taking care of myself.

i decide to get out, just to see what happens if i do. after seeing someone walking towards the car door and spooking a little before realizing she's not paying any attention to me, i finally get out, and, dizzy with hunger, stagger towards the guard rail. i hear the flag on top of the tower clapping against itself as it flaps in the wind.

the air smells nice, nothing i can describe but something that's been present in summer air since i was a child, something that makes me feel safe, and remember looking out the window and imagining what it would be like to be outside when i was little and had never really been outside at night before. the streetlights looked so inviting.

i squint at the streetlights down on the street. i can't decide if they look inviting or just like nicotine addiction. everyone always says it, but it's true, things do look so small from up here. toy cars and trees and hospital. almost invisible ant people. lights so bright they'd give me a headache if i didn't already have one. mostly dark though, and outlines of houses that i can just barely make out. i remember coming up here with michael, remarking how i liked the lights, and him saying he liked the dark more. i wonder which kind of person i am tonight. the lights seem too bright but the dark is boring- i like the outlines of the houses. i like the music and talking i can hear. from some house down there, i think.

the whole city- can i really even call it that? i know it's true, but still- is covered in haze, and the lights that are really far in the distance seem to twinkle in it. the smell of fire wafts into my nose, and i have so many thoughts and so little thoughts all at the same time.

i miss something. i've missed something for.... i don't know how long. at least since we moved. but probably longer. probably since i was 9, standing in the driveway, wondering why i'm so sad all the time. probably my whole life.

whatever. whatever. whatever. there's no beast inside of me. there's nothing held in that needs to come out. i'm angry but i'm not angry like i used to be. i've already puked. it's already all over the floor. there's nobody coming to clean it up, and i probably won't either.

there's nobody else living in my brain, keeping track of me, keeping track of the steps it takes to start my car and start driving. it's just me, just me and my body. and you know what? we are going home.

we are going home to make chicken and vegetable dumplings in the microwave, and figure out what it takes to keep us going. at least for today. and it doesn't matter if that involves spending $5.34 at cvs, or crying for an hour, or laying in bed for 6 months, or smoking every day for the rest of my life.

i'm alive. and that's fucking good enough.

~*~

i drove home and ate chicken and vegetable dumplings at the table. while i was eating, felix came in, and asked me if i got him anything from cvs. typical. i said no and tried to tune him out. then he started talking about how he was hungry, and wanted food, but didn't know what to make himself. i almost tried to ignore it.

he put something in the microwave and left the room. i got up and looked- microwave popcorn. i know that's not gonna sustain a 13 year old boy. what the fuck are my parents doing? how come not one goddamn person in this house knows how to make anything edible out of the massive, huge, nuclear war level amounts of food that we have stockpiled in this house?

downstairs: wire shelf full of artichoke hearts, relish, oatmilk, beans. chest freezer full of frozen fruit, frozen vegetables, dead mice. standing fridge and freezer full of butter, old soft apples, potatoes, weed, cream cheese. upstairs: closet full of mac n cheese (the kind we don't like anymore), cheerios, vanilla extract, baking soda. fridge full of leftovers, eggs, vegetables. cupboards full of ramen, crackers, assorted dried fruits, nuts. everything to eat, and somehow, still, nothing to eat.

fuck that- fuck microwave popcorn. felix came back in the room and i asked him if he'd eat eggs, if i made them for him. he said sure. i got out the last three eggs and cooked them, real nice with salt and pepper and garlic powder, how my cousin had taught me to do it. after the eggs, i rummaged through the fridge and found a cheese stick, gave that to him as well.

as he ate the eggs, i decided that he needed a vegetable. i asked if he still liked carrots and peanut butter- he does. as i peeled a carrot, i noticed him get up from the table and walk toward the door. i asked if he'd be back, and he said he might. he noticed me peeling the carrot, and remarked that he liked apples with peanut butter too. noted.

after i finished cutting up the carrot and apple, i got out the peanut butter, and as i did remembered how he'd told our parents they should get jif peanut butter when he was eating it at the cabin. my mom said she wouldn't, and it was only the extra oil and sugar added that made it taste so good. i eyed the peanut oil on the counter.

i brought the plate of apple, carrot, and peanut butter with extra oil and sugar up to his room, along with the uneaten cheese stick and the lemonade i had showed him how to make in the kitchen earlier, both of which he'd left on the table. it felt good to feed him, and he said thank you, of course. he's really not so bad now that he's a little older.

still, i couldn't help but feel a little sad. for myself, i think. i feed him because i know nobody else will. i feed him because i wish someone would feed me. i feed him because i know there's nobody who will feed me. i feed him because i know that by feeding him i feed myself. i feed him because i prove to myself, by feeding him, that i can take care of someone. and that means i can take care of myself. even if i don't want to.

i think, most importantly, i feed him because i know that by feeding him he knows i love him. and i do. i've had so many conversations with my therapist about how food and love are almost the same thing, and how my not being fed in this house feels like a metaphor for something.

and okay, sure, i'm loved. i know i'm loved. i know. i'm told that all the time. by my parents, im told that. but sometimes. sometimes it doesn't matter how many times they say it. sometimes i just want them to feed me.

but they're in their room. and i can hear them listening to music. and not caring that i'm not being fed, not caring that felix wouldn't be fed either if it wasn't for me.

they always told us when we fought that they wanted us to be like the boxcar children, or my mom's friends from high school who were siblings and fiercely protective of each other. they wanted us to take care of each other. they always missed the point that the boxcar children took care of each other because they were orphans and there was nobody else to do it, and my mom's friends took care of each other because their parents were addicts and couldn't do it.

now i guess we are a little like the boxcar children. it's ironic, isn't it? they somehow knew that we would get along better if they were worse parents, to the point of staging a fight in the hallway to try and get us to stop fighting, which didn't work. but now, when we try to stand up to them all together, they don't like that. they don't like being the dead parents of the boxcar children.

but they still don't feed their kids. we're all still wandering around the house, trying to figure out what to make for breakfast lunch or dinner, and forgetting what time it is and whether we're even hungry in the first place. if you go long enough being hungry, it doesn't feel like hunger anymore. if they stay in their room long enough, they don't feel like our parents anymore. sometimes i wonder how long it would take our parents to notice if one of us went missing. sometimes i wonder if i'd even notice, with how big this house is. we all just sit in our rooms. that's what we do here.

well, i noticed that felix was hungry, even when they didn't. i shouldn't be the only one noticing, and i shouldn't have to feed him, but i did. and i'm glad i did. if it wasn't for me all he would have eaten was popcorn. if it wasn't for me.

thank god for me.

[kissthehearth]

lake monster.

paring. ➾ tentacle monster!lia x (f) reader.

warnings. ➾ aphrodisiac, non/dub-con (reader gets tricked into getting fucked by lia), face fucking, double penatration, a lil nipple play, breeding, swallowing cum, monsterfucking, tentacles, stripping, begging but that’s cus reader is desperate, reader is kinda dumb, readers an explorer (?), kinda fluffy ending?

synopsis. ➾ while encountering a enchanting lake in the forest after getting lost, you meet its beautiful guardian.

notes… woo first ever fic! also this is for @writers-gf cause i got this idea from one of her anons :) also not proofread so you BETTER ignore these mistakes. + this is bad don’t have high expectations.

“damn it.” was all you could say when you realized you lost the group. again. this is what you get for getting distracted all the time.

well there’s a really pretty lake over there… perfect for pics! when you finally get there and start taking pics of the beautiful flowers and colorful creatures, tentacles jump out the water and grab you. turn you upside down actually! when you see a woman’s head pop out from the water it all makes sense….this is the magical lake you heard so many tales about when you were little! and the lakes guardian is currently attacking you.

“who….who are you.” says the brunette woman in the water, her glare sharp like a knife. “i’m not a threat..i promise! please don’t kill me.” you respond to her. she looks at you weird…as if she’s contemplating something. “well…if you say so.” she says slowly as her hair like tentacles finally let you go.

“thank you, i just came to admire the beauty here. do you mind?” you ask timidly while picking your camera back up. “well no….but can’t we talk a little?” she says before she mutters something under her breath and the flowers let out a sickly pink smoke. “what was that?” you ask while feeling fuzzy-headed. “oh just something to help you relax, you seem so scared of me.” the pale woman says then giggles a bit. you cant respond, your body feels so hot, everything is dizzy, and all you can think about is how wet you are right now.

why is this happening? what is going on? did it have something to do with the guardian?

“im sorry it’s just so hot…” you say while taking your shirt off, getting ready to skinny dip in the lake to aleast relive some of the heat between your legs. but even when your body touches the water it won’t go away. when your getting ready to slip your hand between your legs a tentacle grabs your wrist and stops you.

“maybe i can help…i know how it feels.” she says with a small smirk on her lips. “oh. you do?” you ask with a desperate tone, really needing help with this. “i can i really can, i’ll make you feel so much better. don’t you want that?” she says in a much darker tone, looking at you like she’s a lion and your her prey.

“i do, please help me i need it.”

“ok.” she says as tentacles start grabbing you all over your body, one teasing your clit until it enters you. then she immediately shoves one in your mouth. roughly fucking you while you gag and moan on the tentacle down your throat. “i’m helping right?” she says in a teasing tone, looking at you as if you could answer. when you giver her a loud moan in response she looks at you with a little pout. “aww it’s not enough, i know what your saying baby. just keep gagging on my tentacle and i’ll fix it.”

what is she talking about?

your confused, but don’t think much of it until you feel you feel a tentacle circling your ass.

oh. that’s what she meant.

while slowly going in, she plays with your nipples to calm you. “it’s ok baby, just take it. it’s so you can feel better. it’s making you feel good right?” she whispers in your ear quietly. she gives you a moment to adjust until she starts moving. it feels so good, too good. you’ve never felt so full before.

you felt that warm feeling in your core getting tighter, your vision getting fuzzy, and not being able to think anymore. “baby are you about to cum? i feel you getting tighter by the second.” she asked you, and you replied with a desperate moan in response.

“it’s ok baby, you can cum. cant you do that for me?” she said while looking at you with a pleading expression. you told her you were about to cum by moaning even louder, feeling yourself about to release. a few more thrust and your cumming while moaning and gagging all over the tentacle in your mouth. cumming so hard your vision gets fuzzy and you start shaking.

until you feel her filling you with…cum. all of your holes get stuffed. your mouth becoming full, your ass and pussy leaking with the substance as she pulls out. when you feel the tentacles let go of you, your body immediately gives out, feeling so tired and spent. “that was great, thank you…but i need to sleep. can i stay here?” you ask her, your eyes fighting to stay open. “oh that’s fine, i’ll protect you.” she says calmly while stroking your hair with one of her tentacles. barley saying “thank you..” to her before dozing off to sleep.

“i’ll protect you forever, i promise.”

omg this is sooo long and took so much longer that i expected😭 it’s still horrible but still!

[headcanons-n-shit]

Can I get the ffxiv boys and pining for their s/o?

aw im so weak for pining.....

pining for a not-yet s/o (ff14 boissss)

Thancred

Oh how his heart aches for you. Thancred has always loved easily and deeply, but something about you makes him pause. Makes him look at you, and look at himself, and look at the two of you together, and he yearns for that, but. Hes scared. You live dangerous lives, how could he ask this of you.

Outwardly nothing seems to change. Maybe he touches you a bit more, and his touches linger a little longer. Maybe he laughs a little too loud. Maybe he jumps a little too quickly at any opportunity to go on missions with you, or room with you, or just to spend time with you. But he's a good friend, and he'll keep being a good friend even with his bleeding heart.

Urianger

The chronic sighing type. He likes to watch you, though he'll feel a little like a creep whenever he catches himself. But he likes to watch your hands, your mouth, your eyes. The way you move, especially when youre relaxed. Sometimes Y'shtola will catch him with his chin in his hand, watching you and sighing. She doesnt even need to say anything-- just a single Look and urianger is blushing and stammering excuses.

Ultimately its grief and fear that keep him from seriously contemplating his feelings for you. To lose the great love of his life, and then to watch you throw yourself at danger after danger, at increasingly impossible odds. And you come back every time, but his poor heart just cant handle it.

G'raha

Raha raha raha. All that time locked in solitude with only his thoughts of you to keep him afloat, and now that youre here with him he doesnt know what to do with himself. He wants to spend every moment with you. He doesnt want to overwhelm you. He wants to give you everything you ever could have wanted in the world. He feels like he barely knows you anymore-- and hes falling in love with you all over again.

Outwardly, he spends intense stretches of time with you, and then no matter how hard you look you cant find hide or tail of him. His retreat is the library and its walls of books, and his notebooks where he pours out his feels inbetween pages of actual research. (There are even little doodles. Its adorable.)

Estinien

One of those angy piners. He’s attracted to you and he’s so mad about it. Always glaring at you from across the room-- you wonder what you’ve done to tick him off this time, but in truth your hair just looks cute today or he likes that color top on you. He tries to compliment you, he really does, but it always seems to come out gruff and awkward. The only one who knows the truth of his feelings for a long time is Aymeric, and he has promised never to tell.

The source of his hesitation when it comes to his feelings for you is, ultimately, fear. Of himself. Of his feelings: they’re this thick tangle in his chest, this overwhelming wave that borders on sacrilegious. He loves you, totally and completely, with all his heart and all his devotion, the way he has loved no one but Aymeric and the Fury. He loves you more than Aymeric and the Fury. He loves you as Hraesvelgr loved Shiva, and that? that scares him. but at the same time, who other than the other Azure Dragoon could bear the full flame of his love?

Aymeric

A hopeless romantic, through and through. He wants to buy you flowers and gifts and take you on dates, he wants to gaze longingly into your eyes and maybe even *gasp* hold your hand. But he is also a man married to his work, chained to his station and limited by the perceptions of those around him. Even with him as the the Lord Commander and you as the Warrior of Light, he can’t risk showing you even a fourth of the favoritism he so desires.

But that doesn’t mean he shows you no favoritism. Despite Ishgard’s snowy climate, he always finds a way to make sure there is a vase of flowers in your room when you come to visit. He has the cooks learn all of your favorite foods. He calls you into his office whenever you’re in Ishgard to listen to whatever adventure you’ve last gone on or project you’ve found yourself invested in. By the Fury, the dopey, lovestruck look on his face: it’s a good thing that these meetings are private. And when you’re not in Ishgard, expect to receive many a letter asking about your whereabouts and health.

Haurchefant

Wait are you telling me Haurchefant DOESN’T simp for the WoL in canon?

Jkjk though honestly nothing about his behavior towards you really changes, at least not from your perspective. He falls for you hard and he falls for you fast. He longs to shower you with praise, even moreso than he already does. And gifts: the black de chocobo he gives you is a declaration of the highest order, a practically boastful show of dowry, and in public nonetheless! He’s embarrassed if the WoL isn’t a native Ishgardian and doesn’t realize what kind of display it is-- he’s even more embarrassed if you are, or if you recognize his affections in his actions.

He holds off on making any serious promises because there’s a war going on around you both. He loves you, he does, but duty must come first, his and yours. You’re going to see this through, together, and then maybe, maybe, at duty’s end...

Sidurgu

Oh this sweet boy. Sidurgu already has trouble processing his emotions, you can’t do this to him. Just looking at you makes him feel all warm and squishy. It’s like looking at Rielle or Myste, kinda, the same but different, somehow, worse. he looks at you and he feels all flushed and cool and calm and squirmy and he can’t makes heads or tails of the feeling so he tries to cram it down but he can’t, he just can’t. It keeps clawing its way back up his throat at the absolute worst times. “Love”, the moogles call it, and he hates it, he hates it, and he wants nothing more.

Expect a lot of snappy compliments that at first sound like insults. Maybe he’ll shove a shirt you were looking at in the market or your favorite food wrapped in parchment paper into your arms suddenly and with no explanation and then just flee with his usual panther stalk. He looks so angry when he goes, and you wonder if you’ve done something to tic him off, but the gift is so heartfelt, you’re just as confused as he is.

(Rielle rests her face in her hands. You’re both so stupid and she loves you both so much.)

BONUS

Drillemont

He honestly thought himself too old for this kind of thing, but trust the Warrior of Light to reignite flames where once there had only been ashes. His love for you sparks from a candle flame to a raging inferno, and he is helpless before the blaze. 

He might be too old for pining, but he isn’t too old for courtship, as limited as it is in a place like Whitebrim. Whether you visit rarely or as often as you can, he will always make time for you. To check over you and your equipment and ensure your safety and health, at least. To dine with you and talk, if you’ll allow him. To grant you safety and succor-- in his bed even, if that’s what you desire. He knows you are both bound by duty, that his will hold him rooted here and yours will carry you far, far away. But for you that flame will still burn, and it will warm him even on the darkest, coldest of nights.

[wabbitriii]

On a broader I’m also just exceedingly fucking an noyed at the tictokification of serious mental illnesses and terms; yeah man things like depression, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and suicidal tendencies are more than just drawing pretty little lines of blood in a large bathtub full of rose petals while shedding three(3) tears, stealing glances to the rain pitter-pattering on the windowpane as fall leaves coat the building of whatever stupid fucking dark-academia castle were in right about now,

and neurodivergency isn’t rainbow loom bracelets on a toddler mat with cutesy little toys in perfect rows color coordinated and sorted and it’s all goo goo gaa gaa babies that need to be pwotected fwom da cwuel owtside wowld owo

god fuck that shit, lets start with neuroatypicals

it’s not very fun to overindulge in harmful, destructive behaviors because seeing past 5 years is nothing, it’s not very fun to expect to end up dead before life can even begin, it’s not very fun to actively look on living as nothing more than the “hard way”, it’s not fun to constantly think everyone around you is plotting your demise, in fact they all fucking hate you, and you’re not even good enough to stand around others, so hole up! hole up in your disgustingly messy bedroom realistically contemplating what it’d be like if you were dead, and how people would react! hole up and ignore every text, every message, every outside interaction because the very movement to pick up a phone and open up that avenue makes you sick and want to vomit

oh hey on that subject, let’s go to neurodivergence! when my cat died and my mom held her corpse, my brain decided to put the image of maggots in my mind. maggots everywhere. oh hey wouldn’t it be funny if you took a bite of her? doesn’t the smell of fucking death sound appetizing? hey if you don’t stand that pen up you’ll kill your sister. hey here some more cute thoughts of your parents and you, now shake your head like a fucking dog to get rid of them! hey go twitch in class, like a classic horror movie possessed character, im sure no one likes to gossip about that! oh hey here’s anxiety back to tell you to kill yourself!

fuck I wish it was playmats and rose baths- oh wait we haven’t even TOUCHED on schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, bpd, psychosis in general, actually, did, and the whole other side of neurodivergency that nobody likes to look at because “those people are psychos and schizos, and are, like, ACTUALLY crazy!!!! not just plain old delulu like meee!! my intrusive thoughts won,,, my hair is pritty pastel pink now hehe I’m just so ocd about-“ oh my god shut UP addison, you aren’t a cute yandere psychotic, you aren’t a neat freak ocd girl boss, you aren’t a delulu manifester or whatever the hell tiktok idiots keep coining it, keep it in the brain and pipe down

but fuck me, for I am a hypocrite, and every day I wish I could be as pretty as those cute little dark academia girlies or boys or ESPECCIALLY those very fem boys but not in the femboy way but the longish haired (mullet prolly) gnc pretty boy bishonens yaknow? like what a life to live huh! to also be able to take the most pretty and romantic parts of awful situations and apply them all to yourself and get zero repercussions, I bet I could be that person if I was skinny- oh wait a minute, I haven’t even began to talk about PHYSICAL disorders!!!!!

ok that’s enough. that’s enough. I know I’m directly feeding into this negative feedback loop, I know it’s uninformed people having fun, or even people who yes ACTUALLY have these disorders and are using platforms like tiktok to find a community where they ordinarily couldn’t, and yes I KNOW my situation is far more ideal than so many others are, but fuck me, I’m tired of idiots making light of the struggles I do have

maybe (yeah it is) part of this is me being insecure about my own identity, my own feelings and stupid dysfunctional brain, about my own appearance, about, fuck, everything that’s happening, and I just yearn to have that sort of innocent happiness yknow?

here comes the depression again, to shut that the hell down

god I’m tired, this should probably be in a notebook

this probably won’t be posted anyways

“we’re doing a thing called a ✨✨mental diet✨✨ where if you think unpleasant things,,, just think of something different!!!!!!!!! 🎀💗🎀”

ok thanks I’ll remember that when I get horrific obsessive intrusive thoughts that last for minutes at a time

wow ive been cured, didn’t realize I could simply think of something else that one time I hit myself in the head repeatedly to stop the thoughts about bugs in/on my skin

didn’t realize I could simply think of something else those many times I can’t face dishes/dirt/old food due to the upsetting thoughts that flood my head

yeah man this’ll help out so much, I’m sure I’ll stop the corpse - eating thoughts in no time 💕

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?��and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

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