#and only that one‚ like a calling). How the chapter and the thesis are a good summary on his character

[ghelgheli]

i would actually like to hear more of your thoughts on whipping girl, whenever you feel ready enough to talk about it. i've only ever heard positive recommendations for it. i was thinking of reading it. i've read one or two introductory 101 texts on transmisogyny as well as some medium/substack posts, and always looking to read more as a tme person. ty!

thanks for asking! I'm gonna try to be concise because I'm stuck on my phone for the month, but here are my thoughts on whipping girl:

serano is at her strongest in the book in three areas: manifestations of transmisogyny in media (e.g. how trans caricatures pervade movies), the history of medical institutions developing a pathology of transsexuality (like the diagnostics of blanchard et al. or how trans people seeking healthcare were and continue to be forced into acting out prescribed expressions and manufacturing memories), and the construction of her own transition narrative (telling the reader what it was like for her to grow up desiring femininity in a way that confused her, the experience of crossdressing, the effects of hrt for her)

whenever she's just sticking to this, I think she effectively communicates a lot that the unaware reader could benefit from—even many trans women/transfems/tma people who are otherwise in tune with the history of medicalized transsexualism and our popular depictions could probably benefit from her own personal narrative, by nature of how variegated our experiences can be.

unfortunately I think the book fails at its primary—stated—goal, which is to theorize about transmisogyny. in the big picture this is a bifurcated failure:

on one branch of her argument, she remains committed to there being something biologically essential/innate about gender. this manifests thru multiple claims: that we have "innate inclinations" toward masculinity/femininity and "subconscious sex" rather than what I believe, which is that the latter are constructed categories imposed on different matrices of behaviour/expression/desire in different cultural contexts; that there is "definitely a biological component to gender" (close paraphrase) after a discussion of how she believes E and T tend to affect people (thus equivocating gender with dominant hormones!); that we have such a thing as "physical sex" which is the composition of our culturally decided "sex characteristics" (don't ask me how the dividing line is drawn) even as she says we should stop using "biological sex" as a term; that there is "no harm" in agreeing that "sex" is largely bimodal with some exceptions; that social constructionism is necessarily erasure of transsexual experiences in early childhood... altogether she is unwilling to relinquish arguments about the partial "innateness" of femininity/masculinity and gender. this is at tension with her admission on several occasions that these are neither culturally/geographically nor temporally stable concepts! but that doesn't seem to be a line she can follow thru on.

on another, intertwining branch, she engages in what I think is a deep and widespread mistake in the theorizing of transmisogyny: reducing it (mechanistically) to what she calls effemimania* or essentially anti-femininity. it is her stated thesis at the start that masculinity is universally preferred to femininity. she doesn't offer a definition of either term until one of the final chapters, where she defines them as the behaviours and expressions associated with a particular gender. but I think this reduction just misunderstands transmisogyny. it is even in tension with an observation she makes early on, that trans women are often punished for their perceived masculinity! but again, this is a thought she seems unable or unwilling to follow thru with.

my problem with the thesis is that masculinity and femininity do not float free of gender—it is not possible to speak of their valuation in the abstract. anyone who grew up as a masculine cis girl and never "grew out" of that "phase" can attest to the violence wrought upon expressions of masculinity from women. and this applies doubly so to the subjects of transmisogyny! not only are we punished for any perceived bleed-through of masculinity from our supposed "underlying male selves", those of us who are willingly masculine and thriving as mascs are punished for our failure to conform to the rules of the normative womanhood that is imposed on us (just as we are punished for any willing femininity as "false" and predatory upon cis womanhood—observe that transmisogyny is reactive degendering in every case!).

on both branches serano makes only perfunctory remarks about the intersections with race, class, and colonialism. "sex" as such was made to only be accessible to the "civilized", most of all the white european! for a racialized person and particularly a Black person navigating gender the waters are just not the same; the signifiers of sex neither available in the same way, nor granted the same medical legitimacy. what is the "physical sex" of someone who is de-sexed altogether? how can gender have a "biologically innate" component when its expressions between the bourgeoisie and the working class are at total odds with one another? this all goes for the masculine/feminine distinctions as well. what sense is there in the claim that we have innately masculine/feminine inclinations when globally (and transmisogyny has been made global!) what is feminine and masculine can be very nearly mirrored? nor is "masculinity is always considered superior to femininity" innocent of obviating race. transmisogynoir adds yet further degendering thru the coercive masculinization of someone as a Black woman—masculinization as punishment, again!

and as a final point, the account fails to be materialist. there is no attempt to place transmisogyny in its role as an instrument of political economy or, as jules gill-peterson might say, as a tool of statecraft. it is just a psychological response to the way the world is, as far as serano has anything to say about it. but how did the world become that way, and why?? serano's solution, the abolition of what she calls gender entitlement, is naive to the fact that gender entitlement is necessary to the maintenance of the capitalist state, which is structured thru patriarchy and built on colonialism. it is not possible to reskin this into something innocuous!

this is why I cannot recommend whipping girl as a work about transmisogyny except at the most shallow level. it could be a helpful critical read, but imo, it is just wrong about transmisogyny.

[skaldish]

Alright folks. Here it is, my theory of what Ragnarok actually represents. It is very messy and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to actually convey my understanding clearly like I try with most things, because genuinely this is shit I would write a doctorate-level thesis on.

But we're going to try anyway.

So. After doing a lot to try to replicate animistic thinking, as well as taking a VERY deep read of the Norse myths, my theory is that Ragnarok is specifically allegory for societal collapse—the "end of the world" imagery and such is meant to convey what this feels like.

Recall what Odin says in Grimnismal. It goes something like this, since I can't be arsed to find the exact quote:

Huginn and Muninn fly over the world every day; while I fear Huginn ("thought") may not return, I fear Muninn's ("memory's") absence most.

When a society collapses, so does it's memory. It loses its technology, its methodologies, its paradigms, and everything it has learned about the world up to that point. Gone. Entire chapters of history erased.

What causes societal collapse is not always a conquering force, but is oftentimes the result of circumstances that a society orchestrates for itself. Think Rome.

People who have gone through societal collapse will probably develop an invested interest in figuring out how to prevent it entirely, so they don't have to start society all over again.

It's one thing to preserve the memory of "things collapsed and here's why" using a story. But it's another thing to do what apparently the Norse people did, which is cultivate a methodology for cognitively hardening their own society against collapse, using stories as a way to do it.

Like...I'm not kidding when I say they legitimately knew how the human mind works, and then built an entire system of stories and narratives that intentionally support the mind's freedom, cultivation, and agency. I can only convey a fraction of how this works in this post because the rest requires a deep-dive into behavioral psychology and neurological development.

All the tales leading to Ragnarok demonstrate various instances where the gods choose to follow their own agendas at the expense of the real people and forces in the world. All of these little things contribute to the magnitude of the event that is Ragnarok.

The tales represent these transgressions using allegories rather than literal events. This is because these stories were designed for children, who don't process information through a prefrontal cortex like we do as adults. They don't have them yet. But this gives kids an intuitive understanding for how circumstances of collapse feel, so they can recognize them in all their forms.

Loki is an allegory for the mischief we feel as children, and for the behaviors we demonstrate before we get to the age where we start valuing cooperation. In the myths, every time Loki causes mischief in ways that creates problems, the gods get mad at him and threaten Loki's life until he fixes his mess. Loki eventually becomes vindictive, kills Baldr in a jealous fit, and then is punished by being bound and buried beneath the ground, only to fight against the gods in Ragnarok.

The surface-level takeaway is a lesson in parenting: If we punish kids for their mischief, they're going to become vindictive adults, and these adults are going to have it out for the rest of society because they've been disenfranchised.

But it doesn't just end here. Consider how we punish ourselves for our own sense of mischief, beating ourselves up for having "problematic" thoughts and trying to bind and bury those thoughts in the depths of our mind.

These thoughts come from a place our mind known as the limbic system, which is focused on avoiding pain and seeking pleasure, and—most importantly—does not understand the world or make decisions using logic and reason, but in terms of what feels enjoyable and what doesn't.

We tend to call this system our inner child.

When we punish our inner child, that child starts doing exactly what Loki does and resorts to malicious and petty tricks. We can hold this behavior at bay until something causes us to "snap" (like Jörmungandr's tail does) and out comes the malice of the disenfranchised inner child, which creates a terrible cascade of social consequences for us.

Now, if we were to listen to these stories as kids, we would naturally be very upset whenever Loki was threatened of punished, because we think out of the limbic system at that age and Loki is meant to represent us—specifically, the state of being a kid. We would see what comes to pass, with Loki being imprisoned and fighting the gods against Ragnarok, and it would become clear to us that there's consequences for punishing mischief AND also causing too much of it.

Now I don't know about you, but I was very motivated by a sense of justice as a kid. Hearing Loki's arc would have inspired me to learn how to be friends with my sense of mischief while also learning to use it in ways that were cooperative and social, because this would have been how I could right the wrong I felt was done to Loki. It would also mean my own limbic system will not fight against me in the future, but be a modality of thought I can always access. (This is the beauty of the way the Norse myths are crafted; they are designed to instill knowledge of the world using mechanisms that reinforce one's own sense of agency and competency, so rather than being told the moral of this tale, it sets me up to run right into the conclusion it wants me to draw, but in a way that makes me feel smart and therefore inspires me to value it.)

The binding of Fenrir serves a similar allegory. When we become explosively angry in the way that Fenrir represents, it consumes our wisemind the same way Fenrir consumes Odin during Ragnarok. But this only happens if we bind Fenrir/our anger. By demonizing this nature of ours simply for existing, it will not only refuse to listen to us, but also turn against us. Remember that Fenrir was willing to socialize and cooperate with the gods before his betrayal.

(Honestly, I believe this is why ulfheiðnar existed the way they did. Even though the animalistic rage of ulfheiðnar was too terrible for domestic society, it was not demonized, but instead given a social function. People would learn to understand and partner with their own sense of rage, and I'm guessing this is also how they were able to keep their sense of reason and priorities straight even while going berserk from psychoactives.)

These two examples serve to illustrate how societal collapse stems from binding or punishing our own natures. But also fearing our own nature as mortals factors into it.

For example, Naglfar. This is a ship constructed of dead people's fingernails, and its completion is part of what signals the beginning of Ragnarok. But as the story goes, we can delay Naglfar's construction by trimming the nails of the dead before we bury them.

Naglfar represents "neglect for the dead," and this is significant because the act of no longer viewing the dead as people is sort of like the canary in the coal mine for no longer view each other as people...and no longer seeing people as people is what defines Ragnarok.

A society is at peace when its people have no fear of death, and having no fear of death comes only by incorporating death as a normal and familiar part of life, just like we do with birth. Our relationship with death is a litmus test for our relationship with our own humanity—if we fear the dead and cannot see them as human beings, then we are always going to fear a part of our own humanity, and be at war with it. The simple act of keeping the nails of the dead well-groomed because it stalls Naglfar's construction was a way to remind people why such a simple act was profoundly important.

And these are just the things that I can think of off the top of my head that are the most obvious examples. There are—and I shit you not—multitudes of these things laced within the Norse myths.

(I haven't even gotten to the part about how the Norse creation myth uses what the womb feels like to characterize it. Telling this story to very little children helps them establish a sense of familiarity, belonging, and secure attachment with the entire world from the get-go. If they learn the world is everything they've already experienced, then their bodies will never be afraid of it, because nothing about it will feel unknown or unknowable. Like, how fucking dope can you get.)

So here's where we get to the really dense irony of all this: Why we don't pick up on all these nuances as Westerners and have so far missed this entirely.

It is for two reasons.

The first is because our society values the things that the Norse people identified as contributing to societal collapse—namely, the act of conquering/competing against other forces and conquering/competing against our own natures. The transgressions of the Aesir are not things we register as problematic because to us they're normal.

The second is that we don't think animistically. The way we are taught to convey, interpret, and transmit information is designed PURELY by and for the prefrontal cortex, with neglect to everything else (if you ever wonder why Americans look weird in how we behave, this is why). But because we only prioritize communicating this way, we're missing out on all the context added within the Norse myths. These myths function the same way Old Norse kennings did, in that they are designed to speak to ALL areas of the brain at once and in tandem, but if we only engage with it using one part of the brain, we're only going to get a small piece of the picture and the rest is going to look weird.

(Little experiment for you: Try to logic something out in your mind or think through a complex problem without using words or sentences to do it. Use any other kind of thought-process besides language. I promise you that not only is this possible, but it yields a completely different kind of experience and conclusion than you might otherwise reach.)

Honestly, I don't even think Snorri himself fully understood what he was looking at when he was recording the Norse myths. I think he was just writing them down according to how they were told, word-for-word. But his cluelessness is our good fortune now, because he not only preserved the cultural stories, but also what I consider an entire cognitive technology.

And every time I look at it, I can't help but think about the generations of people who sat around the fire in the dead of winter, weaving, crafting, and figuring out better ways to fortify their society, raise kids so they became fine and truly fearless people, and conserve information. This is, as far as I'm concerned, real magic.

They knew some shit.

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 3

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink? WC: 6.7k AN: y'all i am SO proud of this chapter!! i'm so so so excited for you all to read it, i loved writing it so much. thank you all so so so much for the love you have been giving this fic, it means the absolute world to me. requests and asks open, as always!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, [Ch. 3], Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 3: Bonding

In the morning, you woke up slowly, with the taste of night-old beer and regret in your mouth. And also a splitting headache. But your bed was really warm, much warmer than usual, and you snuggled into the covers for another minute. Just one more. And then you realized that it wasn't the covers you were snuggling into, but a person. A person who had their arms wrapped around you. The memories surged back--Anakin, the loud music, truth or dare, kissing him, straddling him, his body against yours. You patted his arm a few times, suddenly completely awake. He let out a low noise of annoyance, but you kept tapping him.

"Five more minutes," he groaned, deeper and gruffer than usual. In that voice, you could hardly refuse him. Five more minutes, fine. With his nearness, warm and stable against you, your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You thought back to the night before, how hard he was for you and how smooth and warm his skin had been under your fingers when you teased below his shirt. Those thoughts would have made you horny beyond belief--fuck you right then and there, maybe--but you had the joy of a massive headache that blocked all of those fun thoughts. The light was too bright to close your eyes and drift off, so all you could do was turn around, awkwardly shifting underneath his arm, to look at him.

Anakin had little freckles on his cheekbones, you realized when you looked at him up close. When his face was completely relaxed like this, he had a kind of ethereal serenity about him. You feared that, if you didn't hold him tightly enough, he'd run away and jump into the sea like a selkie, never to be seen again. He was almost inhuman in that moment, all sharp angles and full lips. The morning light kissed his skin like it came from some radiance within him. He wasn't just handsome in the college-jock kind of way, he was truly and deeply beautiful, you realized.

Calling this Anakin a dumbass, an asshole, or a motherfucker felt just wrong. It would be like calling the stars in the sky boring. Laughably silly. With his jaw slack from sleep, he was a marvel, a gift from nature itself, molded and crafted into a careful, wonderous machine of blood, feelings, and thoughts. And he was laying there with you. If this Anakin wanted the prize, the money, the job, whatever, you would give it over in a heartbeat. All of that just didn't matter in this moment. And that was terrifying.

As quickly as you could, you tried to ground yourself in what was really important to you. Creating something meaningful. Winning. You reminded yourself all the times Anakin called your work amateurish, or the way he still denied damaging Barriss's bot. The way he'd raise his hand to argue that your answer was wrong in lecture during second year. Other images flashed in, unbidden. Anakin's kind eyes when he realized you were upset, before your first kiss. Anakin's sweet voice last night, full of respect for you. The way his teammates obviously respected him. You willed your mind to go back to his smug smile and the way he hogged the soldering station.

Anakin shifted a bit, then opened his bleary eyes to the morning light. It wasn't that late, you knew based on the fact that Ahsoka hadn't pounded down your door, but it was a Sunday, so maybe she didn't intend to. You reached for your phone on your nightstand, which was mercifully alive but hanging on for dear life at 3%. There was a text message from Ahsoka.

Slept over at TKD on the couch, heard u got home safe! ;) Go get some!

Ah. So she clearly thought you and Anakin had fucked. Not that you minded, really. Even if he was an asshole, or if you felt however you did about him, he was still hot. You definitely intended to screw his brains out as soon as you felt better. You tapped him again.

"Mmm, good morning," he mumbled out, "what time is it?" You clicked on your phone.

"11:55," you told him. He bolted upright.

"Shit, we slept through breakfast," he said. He was right, you had. Not that you got breakfast much. You shrugged. Anakin's eyes passed over you, catching your mussed hair, the smudges of mascara surrounding your eyes, and last night's now disheveled dress, then appeared to realize that he was, indeed, pantsless in your bed.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was hushed, tentative. He wasn't saying it outright, but you both knew the question was actually do you regret last night? You took a moment before answering him, trying to find the most correct phrasing for how you felt about it. About him.

"Honestly, I--" you started. His eyes widened, and he read into your hesitation a bit too much. Anakin got out of bed instantly, a gesture that would have been more dignified if he didn't have to shimmy out of the comforter and then hop over you to do so. The lack of his warm weight behind you made you feel oddly empty.

"I knew it, I'm so sorry. I'll leave now, I just--" Anakin said as he grabbed his jeans and started putting them on. Were you imagining it, or was he flushed red in embarrassment? It was kind of cute.

"God, you're stupid. Get back here," you said, motioning for him to come back. Anakin paused, his jeans pulled halfway up, then caught your eye. Based on your annoyance, he sensed that this probably wasn't a get-away-from-me type of conversation, so he finished putting his jeans on and buttoning them, then sat down on the edge of your bed. He was still tentative, like if he said or did the wrong thing, this moment would disappear. Anakin perched carefully on the edge of your bed, as far from you as mathematically possible. He probably had run calculations in his head, you thought.

"I was just saying that I'm too hungover, but we should still… Just not right now. My head is killing me." As you spoke, a smile grew on his face, but then he tried to hide it by pressing his lips together, an effect you would have thought worked better if he wasn't so horrible at it.

"Oh," he said, still obviously elated, but then his expression turned to concern, and he scooched an inch closer to you. "Do you have any Tylenol, or, like, electrolytes here?" You shook your head, and he rolled his eyes. "Of course not." He didn't seem to think you capable of planning in advance, which flared annoyance inside you, but you decided to tamp it down. For now.

"Nah, I think I just need water and food. I'm gonna head down to lunch once I get dressed, then the lab," you told him through a yawn.

"Already? You practically live there," he laughed. Nerd, his tone cried.

"Big words from someone who is always there before me," you said reflexively. The retort had come out of your mouth as easily as breathing, and you hoped he didn't hate you for it.

"Touche," he said, though there wasn't any annoyance in it, just a smile. A silence fell between the two of you, and, unlike most times, it was comfortable. You weren't fuming, which was definitely a new one. Anakin looked down at his hands resting on his thighs, then seemed to work up the courage to say something.

"Look, before you go downstairs, can we talk? Actually talk?" What on Earth did that mean?

"You go first," you said. What did he want to talk about? As far as you were concerned, your positions were clear. Maybe you'd fuck tonight, maybe not, and then he'd be out of your system. You could get back to work. Something twinged in your chest, but it was from your hangover.

"Okay, so, um. I think you know that, even though you're literally the worst, I am… attracted to you. Somehow. And that I'd like to, y'know. Do stuff. I just feel weird about it because of the competition," Anakin said. His confession that he was attracted to you stirred something inside you, but you ignored it.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, I don't know about you, but if we… did things. I think I'd feel more upset if you won. Not that you will, to be clear, but if someone sabotaged my project and cut off my hands, you might have a shot." You snorted, then smacked his shoulder. He held up his hands, defensively, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

"But, I think I'd also feel weird when I win. You've been really helpful. At staying late so that I can use machines, to be clear. So I've been thinking, we're engineers, right? And, most of what we do is optimize. So why don't we optimize this competition? Maybe we could split the prize money. Because if I don't win, you do, and I need that money. Like, really need. And I'd rather get something than nothing at all if you win, and, for that insurance, I'm willing to let you have some of my prize money. And, in exchange, we help each other as much as possible to make sure that the two of us get first and second place."

Initially, you bristled. Giving away some of your hard-earned prize? That motherfucker was trying to take away from your victory. But, then again, with the way your tests were going now, there was no certainty that you'd be able to produce a working prototype by March. And, if you didn't, he'd probably win. Souring his win just a little would probably feel really good, you reasoned, given how full of himself he was now. The idea wasn't horrible, you thought. You decided to be honest, even though it almost killed you.

"You'll only hear me say this once--and don't you dare tell fucking anyone--but I don't know if I'll win. It's probably rigged in your favor, anyway." You ignored the indignant "hey!" Anakin let out, and continued. "So sure. That works for me."

You held out your right hand for him to shake. The sight was probably hilarious, given that you were still in bed with last night's dress and last night's makeup, but you were deadly serious. Anakin shook your hand, still smiling, and then pulled you up.

"C'mon, get dressed. Don't wanna miss lunch, too, or else we'll never see the lab in the daytime!"

Two hours later, you found yourself on the shuttle to the engineering building. You'd probably walk back long after the shuttle system stopped running, so you wanted to spare yourself one walk in the biting cold. Anakin was sitting next to you--the two of you and Ahsoka had eaten together, and you had spent most of the time getting questioning glances from her. His thigh was warm against yours in the cramped shuttle seats, and you caught him smiling at you once, which made your heart flutter.

You were not alone in the lab. You decided not to question why that was disappointing. On the upside, you got to see Barriss, who was in the corner of the lab, tapping something out on her phone. When she saw you, she came up to you and asked you about how you were doing, and you answered honestly. Tired.

Asajj was on the other side of the room and shot you a glance, but you ignored it. She wasn't your favorite member of the engineering department, but she was an environmental engineer. Not your circus. In the few classes you'd shared, she was kind of a bitch, actually. Barely acknowledged you. She narrowed her eyes at Anakin when he followed you into the lab.

You kept chatting with Barriss for a while, catching up. You felt like you hadn't seen her in ages, especially since she got a job working as an admin assistant for the department. She told you about her new idea for a thesis, some sort of collapsible electric bicycle, and how she was trying to make a better replacement for electric scooters. She pulled up her chair to sit next to your lab bench while you tinkered with your prototype, peppering in some questions about it. You lied through your teeth. It was going great, actually. You were more than on track. You had passed your initial tests with flying colors. Right as she was about to leave, you had worked up the nerve to say the truth, that you were terrified of how it was going. She would be the only person you'd ever admit that to--God knows you wouldn't tell Anakin.

Well, actually, now that you were in your agreement, maybe you could. The idea made you feel scared, honestly. What if he sent you on a wild goose chase? While you were thinking, Barriss said goodbye and rushed off to go get a late lunch, leaving just you, Anakin, and Asajj in the lab.

Now that Barriss was gone, you let yourself deflate. Pretending to do something productive while she watched killed you a little bit, and you found yourself not wanting to do anything else today. Maybe eat some pasta and sleep. Anakin came up to your bench a few times, checking to see how stuff was going, but you weren't really feeling up to engaging with him. You fended off his questions for several hours as you agonized over your failed test, checking the software's code over and over. It still worked on all the test cases other than the one where it really mattered, the one that took it from being a model on your computer to a device that looked at real, physical eyes. Sometime right before dinner, Anakin came up to your desk again, looking frustrated.

"Hey," his voice was low, so that Asajj couldn't hear. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Why do you want me to?" You couldn't help it. You were being defensive, and you felt guilty the moment the words left your lips. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Because…" he trailed off, expression inscrutable, then continued after a moment, "We promised to help each other. I just want to help, honest." You studied his completely earnest face, so open. You faltered, for a moment. Even though you'd had that nice conversation earlier, you couldn't help but still see his face biting out a mean comment, or his sweet smile when he told you the circuit design you had drawn in freshman year for your final project looked fine, even though it had glaring errors. You could handle this on your own. Maybe, just maybe, if you got desperate, you could ask him. But not right now.

"I--It's fine. I think I just need to work on it a bit more." That seemed to placate him, all the way until you told him that you were going to go back home, to have dinner and study, then call it a night. He gave you that same inscrutable expression, which was kind of starting to annoy you, and wished you luck.

You, in fact, did have dinner, but you couldn't study. The equations swam in front of your eyes, all of them turning into questions of focal distance and refraction. You tried for two hours, and it was nine already, so you decided to switch tasks. Maybe now you would make some progress on your thesis.

And, so, the minutes ticked past as you sat alone in your bedroom, flipping through pages and googling random things like "refraction of printer paper." Ahsoka was studying for some exam she had tomorrow, and she said she'd be out late at the library, so you had room to spread out. You found yourself pouring cups of tea in the kitchen more often than was technically productive, and, more than a couple of times, you wanted to throw your prototype against a wall.

It was 11 when you caved and texted Anakin for help. It had been almost a week since you had this issue, and you were really getting to be behind, so this qualified as desperate. And if he was going to make fun of you, so be it. You cringed a bit when you saw that his contact name was still Asshole, a change made in anger in junior year when he called your group project idea the most boring thing he'd ever heard.

You: U up?

Asshole: bffr did you actually just send me a u up text Asshole: yes i am up

You: Can you come over? You: To help with an optics question

Asshole: yes Asshole: be there in 10

You: Thank you

Asshole: course

You changed his contact name back to Anakin. He deserved that much, at least. And, in the ten minutes before he came, you changed into some kind of lacy set of lingerie you'd bought the last time you went clubbing. Just in case. When you were with Anakin, there was always a chance things would go there, even if you called him over for a math issue. You threw your favorite comfortable pair of shorts back on, along with a loose Coruscant U shirt.

When he arrived, looking upsettingly hot in the bomber jacket, white t-shirt, and jeans he was wearing, you led him to your room, trying not to imagine the other reasons you might bring him there at night. Once he understood what your project was trying to do, his fingers scrolled the code you had written. He asked the right questions about various modules you'd used, then turned his attention to the hardware. He re-ran the tests, then grabbed your prototype and moved your detector around the room a bit.

Twenty minutes later, he had a diagnosis.

"I'm afraid the reason your machine doesn't work is that… you're stupid."

"What?" If you didn't need his help so badly, you would have smacked him.

"Yeah, look. First of all, you're getting a false negative from the fact that your code says to output a 'no glaucoma' response whenever it doesn't see glaucoma. So you could point it at the wall and it'd tell you that it doesn't have glaucoma, because, technically, it doesn't. And it's not reading either of these images accurately because, look, when you hold the paper like this," he lifted it up at a diagonal, "you can see that there's some reflection of light off the ink you used to print it. There isn't that in the training images you showed it, so it doesn't read it right. I bet if you did this whole thing on an actual eye with glaucoma, not a printed picture, you'd be fine," he said. "You've spent so much time hooking up the camera that you didn't spend enough time on making a good test, that's all. And, also, you need to make sure there's a way for the program to recognize whether something is an eye or not. That would also be helpful."

A certain calm took over him when he started explaining, like you saw in him when he was doing something particularly difficult. Those were the moments you found him most attractive, and, right now, the first time he was helping you for no other reason than that you asked, you thought this might be the most attractive you've seen him. His hands, gesturing. His eyes, sparkling. I want to kiss him. The thought propelled you to stand up, so that you were closer to his height.

"Thank you, Anakin. I mean it. As much as it hurts to admit… you're probably right," you said. After a beat, you continued, your voice lower than before. "And I'm really glad you came tonight." The confession slipped out of your lips like a secret, quick and quiet. Anakin's body was so close to you, you could have pressed yourself against him if you just leaned forward.

"You're welcome," he said in the same husky tone, his gaze flitting from your eyes to your lips. The air was charged with something, some kind of magnetic pull between the two of you. His softness toward you was new, exciting. Your hand reached out, brushing his wrist before finding his hand. When his eyes widened and he shuddered out a breath, it was like a jolt of lightning. He wanted you, badly. So badly even you could tell. The previous times you had done this, it'd been the heat of the moment driving you. Now, you weren't sure how to get from here to making him horny. This was soft, almost romantic, not angry and sexy and intense. What could you say?

"So, um. Wanna watch something?" Your suggestion was a little bit stupid, but Anakin's lips pressed together as he tried to subdue giggles. He failed, and started full-on cackling. You felt your whole face get warm from embarrassment. Well, damn. There goes that.

"Did you really actually for real just ask me to Netflix and chill with a straight face?" He was almost wiping away tears, apparently. Jesus Christ, you were just trying to break the ice. You smacked his upsettingly hard chest in annoyance.

"Stop laughing! Or else I'll--" you were trying to find some threat, something to say that would actually get him to shut up, when he jumped in.

"You'll what? What are you gonna do about it?" Something in his voice morphed, mocking, and though he was smiling, it reminded you more of the expression an animal makes before catching its prey. Self-satisfied. Smug. So, so fucking handsome.

You didn't need another second before you slammed into him, kissing him with a kind of fever you had only imagined. He'd been riling you up for days, weeks, months at this point, and you were finally going to get him inside you. Your hands found their way into his hair while he pulled you to him by your lower back. When you gently tugged, he let out a little noise deep in his throat and started nudging you toward the bed. The effect you had on him was overpowering, addicting. And, if you were being honest, he was riling you up just as much. His thumbs were playing with the skin that was directly under your tank top, sending little fires to your core.

You finally reached the bed, still kissing sloppily, and then he pushed you down onto it before connecting your lips again and climbing over you. Though he was hovering over you, supported by his arms, Anakin kept his hips just out of reach. You horribly, horribly wanted to feel that hardness pressing against you again. You trailed your hands down his chest, all the way until you reached the button of his jeans. You ghosted your hand over his length, trapped against him in his jeans, and he let out a hiss of air.

"Be patient," he said, going back down to kiss you. He notably didn't remove your hand, but you decided there was something else you'd like to explore first, anyway. As he slipped his tongue into your mouth, you moved your hand up his shirt, running your fingers everywhere they could reach. He was taut and warm, so smooth as you felt the divots of his stomach and the clenched muscles in his chest. You knew he was an athlete, but he was properly built in a lean and strong sort of way. You could have sworn you felt abs under your hand, which was only confirmed when he quickly pulled away from you, then shrugged off his shirt. Anakin could have been carved from marble. Even though you were drunk on him, a piece of you recognized the same otherworldly sense from that morning. Like a statue of Apollo had broken out of stone and stepped into your life, still above you and staring down with such intensity that it made you shiver.

His hands came up under your tank top, sliding up your stomach before they reached your bra. Tentative, warm fingers slipped under the wire and grazed the bottom of your breasts. A positively embarrassing moan slipped out of you. He chuckled against your neck and brought his hands further up until his fingertips traced your nipples. The moan that followed was even needier, and you didn't even care.

"Stop teasing me, Anakin, please take it off," you whined, pressing your chest up into his hands and lifting your arms above your head. He didn't need to be asked twice, and slipped one hand behind your back to unclip your bra--with some ease, which surprised you. Everyone you'd been with before had struggled at least a bit, but apparently Anakin was a natural. You briefly wondered how many other people he'd slept with, but you abandoned the thought when jealousy flared in you. Anakin then brought his hands back down to the hem of your tank top before pulling it off above you, then gently guiding the straps of your bra down, finally exposing you. His eyes over you, hungry, starving.

"Fuck, you're so pretty. You have no idea what you do to me," he groaned before leaning down to your collarbone and trailing wet kisses down until he reached your nipple. His wet, warm tongue darted out to circle your sensitive skin. His right hand came up to play with the other, pinching and pulling and twisting until you were mewling. Then, he let his mouth trail even lower, kissing down until he was right above the drawstring of your shorts.

"Can I take these off, baby?" He was looking up at you with that smirk, the one that meant he knew you wouldn't say no. Of course you wouldn't. You nodded feverishly, and he undid your shorts and drew them down your legs. As he did so, the word stuck in your head. Baby. Did he mean that? Either way, you weren't going to question the way it slicked your pussy. Your shorts landed somewhere at the foot of the bed, but you didn't care. You were too busy watching Anakin take in the lacy underwear you had on.

"Damn. Do you have someone else coming over, or was this all for me?" His tone was light, but he was looking at your pussy like a man possessed. He was practically drooling.

"Shut up, Skywalker, and just take them off." He did so, happily, hooking his fingers under the waistband and drawing them down your legs until they were all the way off. If you thought he was staring before, he was practically glued to you now. One of his hands came up to rub your upper thigh before he drew it closer, inward. By the time he got close your pussy, you were thrusting up and trying to get him to touch you, rub you, finger you, whatever. As long as he put his hand on you, you'd stop feeling so sensitive and needy. But then his finger trailed up to your other knee, perfectly skipping your pussy. That motherfucker. You groaned, and you swore you could hear him chuckle. Asshole.

"Look how soaked you are. Is this all for me?" He was sin itself, a demon sent from hell to tempt you. Well, it was working. You nodded. There wasn't any shame or anger left, just a desperate need to be touched where you wanted it. Needed it.

He trailed one finger to your clit, then ran it down the rest of your slit, letting it linger right on the opening of your pussy. He tapped it once, twice, and it made a wet slapping sound that would have made you a little embarrassed had you been less turned on. But this was Anakin, and he was clearly enjoying this as much as you were, if the rock-hard outline in his jeans was any indication.

Anakin slid the finger inside you and groaned at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him as he curled it upward. His thumb came to play with your clit, and you blurted out his name. His eyes shot to you as he took in a ragged breath. So he liked it when you said his name, got it.

And then he lowered his mouth onto your clit, and his name came out of you immediately. When his tongue started moving, fast and warm, rubbing little circles into your clit, you started chanting his name like a prayer. He added another finger inside you, stimulating you everywhere. Your hands tangled into his hair. This had to be the best head you'd ever gotten, you realized. The last person to go down on you was probably your boyfriend in junior year, and he was sloppy and got tired quickly. It almost felt like he couldn't wait for it to stop. Anakin, on the other hand, ate you like it was worship. You could tell he was reading you, then changing what he was doing when he saw a good reaction he wanted to repeat. If there was a movement you liked, he would find it and do it again and again until your legs shook.

Words spilled out of you. Telling him how good it felt, how much you wanted him. Things you would never say, only think, if he wasn't destroying you. You thanked your lucky stars Ahsoka was out, because not even three walls between you would be able to muffle your moans. You grabbed his hair particularly viciously as you were getting close, and he groaned against you before somehow getting even faster with his tongue, finally bringing you over the edge. Pleasure washed over you, and the world was still for a moment before the first wave of your orgasm hit. And, when it hit, you let out a moan so loud you were sure the neighbors could hear. You didn't even try to hide it from Anakin, who could definitely feel you twitching and clenching around his fingers.

"Fuuuuuuck, baby. You look so pretty when you cum," he said as he pulled away a bit, before pressing a kiss against your inner thigh while your legs shook around him. You caught your breath, but your pussy was still hungry. Demanding. Anakin got up from between your legs, still panting, his chin covered in a combination of spit and pussy juice. You took a mental snapshot for later reference. His eyes were so wild, and you knew you were about to get fucked like never before. Anakin was back over you, and you reached out your hand to the hard flesh that was practically bursting out of his jeans. As soon as you grazed it, he grunted, looking you straight in the eyes.

"You want it?" You nodded as fast as you can. Anakin smirked in that way that usually pissed you off, but now it just made you wetter. "Tell me how bad," he commanded. You didn't know where the words came from, but, once they started, they didn't stop.

"Fuck me, please Anakin. Please. I've waited so long and--I, Fuck. I need you inside me, more than anything in the whole fucking world, please," you begged. His jaw clenched as he smiled, obviously satisfied by your answer. He popped open the button of his jeans before undoing the fly and pulling both them and his boxers off in one go.

His cock almost made you drool, and you vowed to have it in your mouth next time. You'd had this one boyfriend, and you had sworn to all your friends that he was the biggest you'd ever had, seven inches. Anakin blew him out of the water. He was at least eight, if not more, and girthy enough that you wondered if you could even wrap your lips around him. The light skin of his shaft had purple and blue veins that snaked upward, and you longed to taste them. He was leaking a bead of precum, which he smeared across his head with his thumb.

Anakin turned around and pulled a condom out of his jeans. Had he planned this? Did he come here, knowing, hoping that you two would finally fuck? He obviously caught your weird look, and looked at you with knowing eyes.

"What, did you think I didn't know exactly why you wanted me here tonight?" Anakin chuckled, and you had the good decency to look a little bit embarrassed, but he rejoined you on the bed quickly enough that it didn't really matter.

"Damn, you look fucking amazing like this," he breathed, a little bit wonderous as he looked down at you, your legs spread for him. He situated himself between your legs, then wasted no time teasing you before he thrust into you with a loud moan. You let out a strangled sound, finally full to the brim with his cock, which was hitting parts of you that your fingers never could. And then he moved, and every nerve in your body was on fire. Your jaw opened, slack, as he pressed his forehead to yours and drilled into you. You were so wet from his spit that everything was sliding just right.

"Shit, you feel so fucking good. I'm not gonna last at this rate," he grunted out as he sped up.

"I don't care, Anakin, just fuck me," you moaned out. His hips slammed into yours, finally giving you what you'd been fantasizing about when you were alone. You relished the way his eyes squeezed shut, the hot breaths he huffed out, trying to stave off his release. He was fast and efficient, but listened to your reactions as he fucked you, adjusting angles until you were making the loudest noises you had that night. It felt like he was stretching you out, filling you up until there was no more air left in your body. Then, suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"Ride me," he growled. You scrambled to sit up, and he sat himself up against your headboard so that you were in his lap. Using your tired thighs, you lifted yourself up just enough for him to slip back in, which he did with ease as you both let out moans. You started raising and lowering your hips on him, working your way slowly so that he was fully inside you. From this angle, he was even deeper, if that was possible. Anakin's hands came up to grab your ass, squeezing it and occasionally giving it a gentle smack. You sped up, and words started tumbling out of his lips.

"Fuck, you don't know how much I wanted to do this at that stupid fucking party. You looked so fuckin' hot, I almost came when you sat on me," he confessed before letting out a particularly loud moan. You thought back to the way he was looking at you at the party, and it was the same glare he was casting you now. Like he'd give anything to be with you, like he was desperate for you. And he was. He kept repeating your name and how good he felt as you bounced on him.

"Shit, baby, I'm close," he gritted out. You could see it in the way his eyes squeezed, his brow furrowed, and his arms clenched around you. Your thighs burned, but you got faster. You were going to make him cum as hard as you possibly could. Soon enough, his breathing got faster, louder, letting moans fall from his lips freely. Then, he came so powerfully you swore you could feel it too. His hips twitched and jerked up into you as spurt after spurt shot out of him and into the condom. He threw his head back against your headboard, scrunching his eyes shut and moaning out your name. You could feel every twitch of his cock, every jump of his muscles under you. It was joy itself.

Once he finished cumming, you lifted yourself up and let his cock slide out of you. He was still panting, flushed and sweaty, but he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him. Your head was resting against his chest, his left arm around you, as he pulled off the condom and tied it off, tossing it into your bedside trash. Both of you were a little bit more recovered, but your voice was still hoarse when you spoke.

"Fuck, that was amazing," you said. And it was. It really, truly was the best sex you had ever had. Anakin seemed equally as happy when he looked down at you with that soft, tender look in his eye.

"Really?" You gave him a little mhmm before he continued, "I feel bad I came so early. It's just, it's been a while for me." The confession came quickly. Like he almost wasn't sure whether to say it, but you were glad he did. You felt the same way.

"Me too, like six months. You?" The hand on his chest traced patterns across his stomach.

"Two years," he answered, like it was nothing.

"What?!" You expected him to say a month or two, maybe three at maximum. How could a guy who fucked that well stay celibate for that long? There was no way this was his first time back after so long. It was just impossible. He obviously saw the shock on your face, then elaborated.

"Yeah, since I broke up with my ex, I just… haven't found someone I wanted to do it with." Anakin was gazing at you with such affection that, for just a second, you thought it might be love.

"Until me." You didn't know where the words came from, but he didn't seem to mind. Part of you just wanted to hear him confirm it.

"Until you," he added as he gave your forehead a kiss. You lay there, your legs entwined and your hand rubbing patterns on his stomach while his pet your hair, in a happy, contented silence. The minutes passed, and his breathing slowed back to normal, but the look he was giving you didn't change. It was terrifying. You found yourself saying something to cut off the thought.

"Hey, you wanna know something funny?" You asked. Anakin, entangled in you, cast you a questioning look.

"What?"

"Check the pocket of my pants," you said. He pulled his arm out from under you, then got out of the bed and found your shorts behind your chair. From their right pocket, he pulled out a condom, and then burst out laughing. You joined him, and, in the moment, you felt like you were on the same team, the two of you against the world. The feeling only intensified when he kissed your forehead, still smiling.

"I'm gonna go get us something to clean up. Be back in a second," he said as he pulled on his boxers and pants again, before leaving the room to go find your bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later with a towel, soft and warm under his fingers. One of your washcloths, which he'd run under warm water to keep it comfortable. As he cleaned you up, then waited for you to use the bathroom, you wondered when he became so caring. So considerate and sweet. But maybe he had been that way the whole time, you thought as he put his arm around you in the bed. His skin against yours felt amazing, even better than it did during sex. For the first time, as you drifted off with your head against his chest, you wondered if being with him like this could happen more often. Maybe all the time. And then the words slipped from your mind, like footprints in sand on a beach, before you finally fell asleep.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @johnbassplayercutie @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 5)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

A first date???

Warnings: Sexual innuendos and working through internalized homophobia

Author’s Note: No beta but this chapter took me wayyyy too long. This week was crazy with getting a new apartment states away and defending my thesis 😵‍💫

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

Jacob nervously slipped into the kitchen as Melissa waited expectantly for a ziti you requested to finish baking. He attempted to keep space between himself and the Italian - for his own safety of course. The space between the two roommates had grown after he confronted Melissa a few nights ago about seeing her kiss you. Tonight he was looking to mend the bond between them. 

He leaned on the kitchen island, hands clasped and eyes studying the countertop, “I wanted to, uh... apologize for what happened a few nights ago. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive.”

The redhead only offered him a momentary glance which was harsh and skeptical. It was clear she wasn’t interested in having any conversation about the events Jacob witnessed. While Melissa continued giving Jacob the cold shoulder, he wanted to make it clear he was there to support her, “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” “There isn’t anything to talk about.” Melissa quickly responded in a monotone with her back to Jacob so she could go about her business of pulling the ziti from the oven. She placed the baking dish on the top of the stove, and took a deep breath as she pulled the oven mitts from her hands and tossed them onto the counter. Spinning to face her roommate, she cocked her head and forced herself to make peace with the young man, “Thank you, Jacob.”

“I found a new puzzle for tonight... if you would like.” The young man gestured towards the dining room where he left the puzzle, earning a smile from the redhead.

With a flick of her hand, Melissa turned off the oven and folded her arms over her chest, “I would like.”

--

When Melissa picked up your phone call and wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder, she had no idea you were sitting outside her house. Before she could get a word in edgewise, you spoke - trying your best to sound smooth and collected so she couldn’t tell you were fearful of her rejection, “Let’s go, Schemmenti.”

“What?” She leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes to hide her enthusiasm from Jacob who sat across the table with his head cocked, staring at her in curiosity. They were about half way through their 3D puzzle of the statue of liberty when you interrupted. 

After opening your car door, you step out and lean against the car door frame, smirking as you catch a glimpse of her red hair through the front window. You doubled down on your mission of taking Melissa out, giving her an order rather than asking, “Come on out here. I’m taking you on a date.” 

“What makes you think I’d go on a date with the likes of you?” Melissa tittered as she tried to hide how she enjoyed flirting with you from her companion. 

You reply sarcastically, feeling a sense of excitement wash over you when you make her laugh, “My good looks and sense of humor. Or perhaps my love of long walks on the beach.”

Melissa finally lifted herself from her seat so she could make her way to the front window where she pulled aside the sheer blinds to catch a glimpse of you. Your cheeky smile melted Melissa’s icy exterior as did the way you leaned your cheek on your forearm as you gazed at her. She had one hand on her hip as she stared you down, “Where are ya’ takin’ me?” 

“I’m still trying to decide between the Olive Garden or some chain sports bar where we can watch the Cowboys play.” You joke, grinning wildly as you watch her lip curl.

She turned her back to you, looking around the room for her purse and shoes, “Are you tryin’ to get me to say no?”

“Just testing to see how much you like me.” You quip as you watch her curiously. More than anything you hope your joking wouldn’t turn her off from the date you had planned. 

“What’s the dress code?” The redhead asked, glancing down at her comfortable outfit of old jeans and an Eagles shirt. She had been ready to slip on her shoes so she could meet you, but she began to second guess herself. 

“Something easy to take off.” Your quick wit made the redhead stifle a laugh as she clumsily began gathering all of her belongings. Her pacing made her seem a little too eager to Jacob, causing him to arch his brow in amusement. You could see her grabbing her leather jacket and purse which caused you to remember the ziti you asked her to make just for this occasion, “Oh, and did you make that ziti?”

“Well, yeah.” She scoffed, almost offended you would question her willingness to cook for you. 

“Bring that too.” 

— Melissa folded her arms over her chest and watched out the window as she skeptically wondered where you could be taking her so late in the evening. When you turned into the stadium parking lot of the Lincoln Financial Field, she glanced over at you with a look of pure disbelief. She didn’t believe you could get her into the Eagles home stadium for a single moment, “And how do you think you are gettin’ in here?”

“I know a guy.” You shrug as your eyes sweep the parking lot for the entry point your cousin told you to find. 

Melissa was all heart eyes in the passenger seat, watching you with complete amazement. Her chest swelled with pride when you ended up handing over her ziti to your cousin whilst telling them she is the best cook in her family. And the cherry on top was how you gave a subtle threat to your cousin to make sure they would return Melissa’s baking dish to you. In a period of five minutes, you tapped into three of her love languages: having connections, bribery through food, and not-so-subtle threats. 

—

Melissa was like a kid in a candy store as you gave her free reign of exploring the sports complex. As a night security guard, your cousin had agreed to give you access to everything as long as you set him up on a date with some girl you knew from high school and Melissa’s cooking was just the icing on the cake. 

The redhead was in her happy place when she settled on the Eagles sideline bench and grinned up at you, “You didn’t have to go to such great lengths to get me to sleep with ya’.” 

“Who said I was trying to sleep with you?” You cock your head as you stare down at Melissa, your heart jumping into your throat as you consider sharing your true intentions for her. While every fiber of your being was screaming for you to stay quiet, you remembered you were conducting your relationship with Melissa on your own terms rather than giving her all of the power. 

You popped yourself down on the bench next to Melissa, stretching your legs out in front of you as you stated your intentions with confidence, “I’m gonna get you to fall head over heels for me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mel perked up in faux excitement as she loved to challenge anyone when they were filled with a noticeably high level of confidence. Her heart stalled in her chest at the notion of you trying to get her to fall for you - in a way it felt like too much too soon and a long time coming all at once.

You nod, staring out across the field with your chin held high, “Indeed it is.”

Melissa allowed a few moments to pass between you before she spoke again. While the prospect of a new relationship was frightening for her, she was determined to give a romance with you a fighting chance. She leaned into you when she spoke, giving your arm a loving pinch, “This is a good start, but if your guy can get us into the locker rooms, things will go a lot quicker.” 

—

You shifted the car into park outside Melissa’s house and a silence fell between you. The date had gone well, but now there seemed to be a new energy between you that had yet to be felt by either of you before. It was almost as if there was a palpable mutual yearning that expanded far beyond sexual desire. 

This feeling terrified Melissa.

“Everything is going to change.” When she spoke, you felt the need to do a double take to see if Melissa had been replaced with a 16 year old version of herself. Her tone was the same as when she told her father she wanted to be a teacher rather than the next Effa Manley - fearful of disappointing loved ones.

You shifted in your seat to more readily face the redhead. Cocking your head, you tried to give her an encouraging response, “Why does everything have to change?” 

“Didn’t everything change for you?” She asked as she chewed her lip, one hand lifting to her miraculous medal to rub the image of the Virgin Mary with the pad of her thumb. 

While it wasn’t easy coming out when you were teenagers, you remembered the support you received from your family and Melissa. At the time it was all you felt you needed, but of course, after telling Melissa about your attraction to the fairer sex, you did gain a sexual partner - the thought of which made you grin, “Mostly life was better. It helped having good friends.”

Melissa hummed to acknowledge your response before falling deep into thought. She wouldn’t even know where to start. Jacob would be easy, but Barbra? She felt sick at the thought of even discussing the matter with her. 

You broke up her swirls of anxiety with your own question, “Why did you say yes to this date?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Melissa retorted as she was briefly filled with relief of a lightened mood before realizing you were completely serious. Her face fell once more as you left her in a heavy silence to respond to your question. Her reasoning stemmed from your spat that occurred months ago, “When you told me you remembered that night before the wedding… I forgot how you asked me to give you a chance and I never did.”

“I said a lot more than that.”

“So did I.”

When you opened your door to a red eyed Melissa, you were literally taken aback by the redhead pushing her way into your arms. It was the night before she was set to marry Joe - some loser firefighter she had met while tailgating at a Eagles game. You hated him since Mel told you he wanted to take her to a strip club on the first date. 

While you would never tell her ‘I told you so’, you knew he wasn’t the right person for her. You kept your mouth shut, hugging her to your chest and guiding her further into your little apartment so you could close the door. 

She told you through teary eyes and angry hiccups that the rehearsal dinner had gone terribly and that Joe was a complete pig. You didn’t offer an opinion, opting to let the redhead rage as you settled on the couch together. She would wave her hands over her head and curse in Italian while you nodded along, only deciding to pull her to your chest once more when hot, angry tears began rolling down her cheeks. 

Rubbing Melissa’s back was an easy way to settle her anger, but her tears continued to fall regardless of how many times she wiped them away with her sleeves. You held her face to your chest and spoke softly, hoping she wouldn’t turn her anger onto you, “Maybe you shouldn’t be marrying him if all of this is happening and you aren’t even married yet.”

“My parents have already paid for the wedding. I can’t back out now.” Melissa nuzzled her cheek against your chest. She was in absolute despair yet she wasn’t willing to actively do anything to solve her issue. 

“But if you do, then… maybe we could be together.” It was unavoidable for you to sound like you were begging. You wanted this so badly. You wanted her so badly. In the brief moment where she didn’t respond, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying a little harder, “Come on. Give us a chance, pretty girl.”

Melissa only peered up at you, and her furrowed brows and sad eyes broke your heart. “I want to… I just-”

You held a hand to her cheek, brushing her hair from her face. You were desperate for Melissa to come to her senses. Couldn’t she see that you were meant to be together? Your voice was barely above a whisper as you moved to press your lips to her forehead, “I love you, Melissa. Please.”

The redhead eyes lit up at your words - like you had ignited something within her. Without a moment’s hesitation, Melissa shifted to sneak closer so she could press her lips to yours. She kissed you over and over - each kiss was filled with so much desperation it left both of you breathless. 

She pulled away only for a moment, her forehead resting against yours, “I love you.”

From there you fed off one another’s passion and energy like frenzied sharks. You ended up making love on your living room floor, clinging to one another as if you would be separated forever if any distance formed between you. Only if you would have known that distance was fated to form regardless.

Melissa’s face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if she was reliving that night with regret or fondness - perhaps it was a combination of both. You watched thoughts run through her mind and her green hues were pleading when she spoke, “Have your feelings changed?”

“Never.”

Melissa both feared and adored your response.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes longer, spiraling at the omissions of love and not wanting your time together to end so soon. It was finally Melissa who made the move to leave, followed by your immediate reaction to open your door as well. You felt the thrum of excitement as you circled the car and walked the redhead to her door. 

She stopped when she had a hand on the door handle and glanced back at you, noticing you were at the bottom step with no intention to go any further. Her brows furrowed in confusion, “Aren’t you coming inside?”

“No. I’m just walking you to your door.” You shrug, craning your neck back to watch her with a cocky smile. 

“Chivalrous.” Melissa’s dry humor emerged as she abandoned the door handle to stand a step above you - her hands sliding up to your shoulders while she stared down at you. After years of being entwined with one another, you wouldn’t have thought her next words would make you so nervous, “Do I get a kiss at least?”

Wrapping your arm around her waist, you pull her into you, relishing in the feeling of her body weight pressing against you. The feeling of her green eyes staring intently down at you was overwhelming, especially as her focus on you was unwavering. Glancing back and forth, you whispered with a shyness that made you want to swallow your words, “Aren’t you worried about the neighbors getting the wrong idea?”

“Hadn’t crossed my mind.” She whispered in return - a white lie meant to soothe any concerns you may have about her intentions. Melissa had no interest in her neighbors knowing more than they needed to about her personal life, but she chose to wrap her arms around your neck and press her lips to yours regardless. 

You could have sworn you felt Melissa Schemmenti moan as she leaned into you more to deepen your kiss. This wasn’t any moan, however. This high pitch, quiet moan was a ‘please dear god keep kissing me’ moan. It made your heart race and your stomach twist into knots - so much so that you pulled away.

“Goodnight, pretty girl.” You lingered close as you whispered your farewell, ghosting her lips with your own before you gingerly took a step back.

Melissa swayed where she stood, her flushed cheeks hidden by the dim lighting of the streetlights. She folded her arms over her chest, shrugging as she hopelessly attempted to find a way to bid you goodbye that wouldn’t rob her of her ‘tough guy’ style. The redhead suppressed a smile and watched you through heavy lidded eyes - she was smitten and hated every bit of it. “Yeah yeah yeah. Get off my lawn before I have to turn a hose on ya’.”

—

Melissa settled onto the couch next to Jacob and was stewing with mixed emotions she didn’t know how to process. For years she hadn’t given you the chance of letting you in emotionally, and the very second she let her walls down, she was tripping over herself to get your attention. She found you to be a perfect balance of everything she wanted in a potential partner, successfully making her feel remorse for how much of your time she had wasted by not pursuing this sooner. Mel was fearful of how you would move forward together, but god she wanted it terribly. 

Jacob interrupted her thoughts with his own - knowing full well he was treading on grounds that could quickly earn him a place on Melissa’s ‘Perpetually Ignore’ list. He was shockingly plain and confident with his words, “I know you are going through something right now, but don’t... hurt your friend in the process.”

Melissa sat in his words, truly taking them to heart. She wanted to do better by you and she knew where she needed to start, but she was fearful of taking that leap. The redhead stared down into her lap as she began picking at her nails, “We aren’t really friends...”

Tears formed in Melissa’s eyes, but she wasn’t about to let Jacob see how scared she was to admit those words aloud. She hadn’t even truly come out to Jacob and she was feeling entirely overwhelmed at the prospect. Jacob wasn’t phased, rather he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. He rubbed her arm gently as he spoke, “I know, Melissa... I know.”

Link to Chapter 6

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore

[rubberbandgirlme]

mamma mia here i go again with another chapter from my leander thesis 🤓 please accept my humble input on mc's curse, the importance of reading between leander's flirting lines and rss's wonderful storytelling details.

ngl when i finally chose not to touch leander's hand first (can you blame me, i'm weak for that man) i was bewildered at how strikingly different the options in this scene play out, and i, strange as it seems, like this one much better.

first of all, it's a parallel (even if it's not intended, the connection is still there) to the opening scene with a deranged traveler: the touch, the sensations, the (foreshadowed) strangling:

leander is definitely affected by the curse — possessed even, i would say, as if he was being told to strangle mc. notice how his actions line up with the traveler's, only in slo-mo, because leander was fighting to take back the control. and when mc calls out for him, he either snaps out of it or gets to the exact point when he takes a hold of the curse. this brings up a question: could mc's curse be sentient? alter the minds, you say? (more under the cut because it got long)

i've seen people speculating that mc's curse might bestow the enlightment but that's not true: mc was told that (and that's why this origin has me by the throat (pun absolutely intended): imagine living with so much guilt, thinking you were doing good, but in fact driving people mad… mmm tasty). it ties perfectly into every origin path where mc was being lied to, deceived and betrayed. however, there's definitely something more to the curse's nature that's yet to be disclosed.

my favourite moment though!! is this nuanced character storytelling!!

the very hand that was inches away from choking mc to death is quickly disguised as caring and soothing. wonder why? to gain mc's trust (non-verbally), to show that leander's in control, he's strong, he's there for mc, he'll take care of them. of course, leander, being a leander, downplays the whole experience of being possessed/affected by the curse, but he's being honest at once. he doesn't lie to mc — and that's also how he's gaining trust, verbally this time.

one more question that begs to be asked: why the hell all of this doesn't happen if mc touches leander first? it seems that the quality of the touch (😭) also plays an important role here:

leander must have felt the power of the curse, but he wasn't possessed by it, he could control it right away — why? because the touch was fleeting? or because it was mc who was touching him, not the other way round?

now hear me out (i might be wrong on this one, because i can't remember any more examples off the top of my head, but i feel like it's definitely a thing. let me know if something comes up!): we should pay closer attention to how leander says the truth (or half-truth), but it could be understood differently at a flirting angle (it's slightly different from this one, where he covers up his misstep). what i think he means here is that he controls the curse, but it sure is a difficult thing to do. "not due to your power" my ass, his need to look strong and heroic and weak at the same time is ridiculous, someone cure this man (ivolunteer.gif)

one more and last thing that's bothering me (it might play into the previous point btw): if you keep touching him, he tells mc that fissures on their hands match his golden pin. why??????? that's such a dumb thing to flirt about, such a weird comparison. what kind of connection is there? it's so out of place, it definitely means something more. leander spill

[thetriumphantpanda]

close to you | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Nine

Chapter Summary | A week of not hearing from Javi since he ran out has you tearing your hair out, so you throw yourself into your work as a distraction, with catastrophic consequences.

Chapter Warnings | mentions of drugs and the drug trade, alcohol consumption, threatening language, violence, blood, descriptions of a head injury and concussion, Javier Peña to the rescue, soft!Javi.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | I am forever appreciative of how patient you guys are for updates of this series! Thank you for hanging in there whilst my muse and creativity ebbs and flows, I love you all! We're getting towards the conclusion of this little story, with only a few chapters left so I hope you guys are still enjoying this! If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You wonder when staring at the work in front of you might actually yield something worth writing about. It’s all you’ve done since you picked up this stupid story and decided to chase it. Staring at the pages on your desk has become all the more common in the week since Javi ran out on you. He’s avoided your calls to his phone, you’ve not seen him around town, and the one time you decided to call the house, Chucho answered and with the most sincere voice you’d ever heard, told you he wasn’t in but that he promised he’d ask him to call you when he got back. That had been two days ago, so you’d practically given up all hope of ever hearing from him again.

For the first couple of days, you’d cursed yourself, wondering why you’d kept any of that stuff in the first place. Newspaper clippings and annotated notes about everything he and his team had done in Colombia. You didn’t need it anymore, thesis done, completed, and with a better mark than you could ever have hoped for. But until you’d seen him in the flesh, knew he was back for good and safe in Texas, it was the only way to feel close to him. Stupid for sure. But then the anger had set in - he’d no right to rifle through your drawers, pick up your notebooks and thumb through them. The barrage of different emotions was hard to deal with, and at the very base level, you missed him, you wanted him back, and you wanted to explain everything to him - that’s incredibly hard when he won’t answer his fucking phone though.

Turning your attention back to your work, you try and focus. You’ve met dead end after dead end with this stupid story and there really is only one place left for you to go. If it’s not Tyler then it has to be someone else in the family that’s involved. You can’t imagine it’s head of the family, so that really only leaves Tyler’s brother. It might be stupid and you might make a terrible enemy out of the mayor’s family, but there’s something else going on here and whatever it is, you’re going to get to the bottom of it, no matter how.

You can still never get over the size of the Johnson family home. Richard and his wife had two sons, one their pride, the other, not so much, but if you looked at their house, you’d think they had at least twelve children. No family needed this many rooms, you think, as you walk up the driveway.

It’s the early afternoon and you can see Garrett’s car parked in front of the house. Tyler will be at work, as will Richard, and you’re pretty sure their mother is never at home. You don’t really know what it is she does, but it’s some form of charitable work that involves travelling more than it does time at home.

You take a deep breath and ring the bell, waiting the appropriate amount of time before ringing it again. It’s a huge house after all, it must take a while to get from anywhere to the front door. A few seconds later, the door opens, and Garrett is stood in front of you, dressed in dress pants and a shirt that has the arms rolled up to the elbows. He smiles at you and opens the door a bit wider, invites you in - it’s much warmed than the reception you got from his brother.

“Lovely to see you,” He smiles, guiding you through the foyer and into the kitchen, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Water would be great, thank you.” You smile back, waiting for him to put a glass in front of you, topped up with water and fresh ice.

“I assume you’re here from the paper?” He asks, leaning cooly against the kitchen counter.

“That’s right,” You nod, sipping at the water, “Has Tyler spoken to you recently?”

Garrett shakes his head, “No, I haven’t seen him in a few weeks actually.”

You hum, nodding your head, thankful that you have the upper hand of surprise still - that this part of the family don’t know you’re sniffing around looking for a reason that one of their houses was used as some form of drug den.

“How have you been since Dylan died?” You ask, “I know you were really good friends.”

It’s a question that makes sense, they were very good friends, and although it’s been a while, you’re hoping your feigned concern for his mental welfare might make him open up.

“It’s been hard,” He starts, “He was my best friend, and to suddenly not have him around anymore…” He trails off, “I miss him.”

You nod, hoping the look of concern you think you’ve got across your face is projecting enough to make him feel like he can trust you.

“Was he the reason your dad has started being heavier with drugs in town?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Garrett nods, “He saw how fucked up it made me to lose my friend and decided enough was enough, that someone needed to do something to fix the trouble we’ve been having in town for years.”

There’s another nod from you, “Makes sense,” You offer, “Not really working very well though, is it?”

“These things take time.” He offers, in that perfectly practiced politician way that they always answer things.

“Look, I’m gonna cut to the chase Garrett,” You sigh, “That house in town that got raided recently? We’ve been looking into it and it all leads back to you, to your family, and it doesn’t matter who I ask, no-one knows why that place was being used as a drug den, but someone in this family knows exactly why.”

Garrett scoffs, “You’ll want to talk to my brother about that.”

“Well, that’s the thing Garrett,” You speak, “I did, and that man is clean as a whistle, he hasn’t taken drugs in at least a year, and the last time he was at the house, it was clear of anything,” You shrug, “I can’t imagine your dad being involved in anything like this, so that just leaves you.”

You can see his demeanour change almost immediately, he’s uncomfortable, moving from foot to foot and you can see the start of perspiration on his forehead.

“You’re telling me you think I’m involved in something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

He pushes himself from the counter he’s been leaning against, takes a few steps towards you, trying to intimidate you, but you know you’re pushing in the right direction, he wouldn’t be reacting like this if you were barking up the wrong tree.

“Where’s your evidence?” He asks.

“Maybe you’ll have to buy the paper to find out?”

“Listen here you little bitch,” He spits, pointing his finger in your face, “You ought to be careful about this, you think this is just me?” He asks, stepping even closer to you, making your breath catch in your throat, “You think you publish this story and it’ll just be me you have to worry about? You’re dead wrong, publish whatever story you’re planning and you’ll have a rain of fucking fire to deal with from people you don’t want to get on the wrong side of.”

“So, it was you then?” You can help but smirk, having caught him redhanded in a confession, the recorder in your bag that you’d pressed on before he’d answered the door your little secret.

You watch some kind of fury flick over his eyes as he grits his teeth, his hands pressed into your shoulders to push you back, “Stupid little girl.” He says as he pushes, but it’s a lot harder than you’d anticipated and it makes you lose your balance, falling backward.

It all happens in a blur, the side of your head makes contact with the corner of the kitchen island, pain spreading almost immediately across your forehead, vision blurring as your backside hits the floor. You’re sort of aware of something warm and wet dripping down your cheek, which you brush away with the back of your hand as you try and quickly reorientate yourself. Then you feel a hand wrap around your arm and a presence next to you, not quite all there enough to push it away.

“Oh shit,” You hear Garrett speak next to you, “Shit, shit shit,” He’s touching your face now, “I'm sorry, I- oh god - I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

You groan, letting your head tip back against the cool marble of the kitchen island, “Am I-” You struggle to speak, “Am I bleeding?”

“Oh god-” Garrett mutters, “I’m going to be sick.”

And then he’s gone, the sound of his shoes clipping against the floor as he runs to God knows where, leaving you disorientated and bleeding on his kitchen floor. You know you need to get out of here, slowly moving yourself just enough to push yourself to your feet, hands gripping the counter as you reach for your bag. You’re dizzy as you walk towards the door, looking down at the floor because as soon as you look up, you feel like you’re going to throw up and pass out. You can see yourself leaving small drops of blood on the floor as you move - a trail that follows you all the way down the driveway and to your car. You fumble with your keys, dropping them on the floor. When you bend over to try and pick them up, your vision goes fuzzy before you can grab them from the ground. You know you can’t drive like this.

In the haze of confusion you look around, a little way down the street you spot a phone box. It’s slow going, but you make it, pulling open the door, leaning against the glass wall, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and ease the ache behind your eyes. You shuffle through your bag to find your wallet, pulling out a handful of coins that you push into the slot. You think about phoning your father, but realise there’s only one person you want right now. Despite having his number memorised, you pull the worn card from your wallet, mainly to make sure that the haze of confusion doesn’t make you dial the wrong number. You drag your thumb over the faded number, watching a smear of blood cover it, and then press the number into the dialling pad, listening to it start to ring.

“Please Javi,” You whisper, “Please answer.”

You’re about to lose hope, expecting the phone to ring out, but through some form of divine intervention, the ringing stops and you hear the voice you’ve craved all week.

“Peña?”

“Oh Javi,” You sigh out in relief, feeling the prick of tears behind your eyes, “Help me.”

“Cariño?”

“Javi please, I need you.”

“What’s happened?” You can hear his tone change, concern and something else you can’t quite place, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, I just-” The ache behind your eyes is making you tired, “I need you to come and get me.”

“Has something happened?”

“Yes,” You reply, “I’m so tired Javi, I can’t drive.”

“Where are you?”

“The mayor’s house,” You reply, “Well- no - I'm in the phone box down the road.”

“You stay right there, okay?” He’s frantic on the other end of the phone, you can tell.

“Please hurry.”

He’s beside himself as he drives from the ranch and into town. A week of avoiding you, of avoiding his feelings towards you, and you’re hurt. He still can’t think about what happened. He doesn’t even know why he’d answered the phone this time - he’d avoided answering anything that had come through on his phone since he’d run out on you before, but there’s something today that made him pick up, and by God is he pleased he did. He doesn’t think he could have lived with himself if he’d let you call and left you hurt and injured in the middle of nowhere.

He thinks of all the other women throughout his life that he's let down. Lorraine and the way he left her, Helena and the way she risked herself for him, for the promise of a fucking visa, and paid the price. Most women in his life ended up hurt, emotionally or physically, and it was becoming evident to him that you were no different.

Not knowing, and not caring about how many speed restrictions he breaks, he makes it to the phone box in record time, cutting the engine and slamming the door behind him. He takes four or five big steps to the phone box, tearing open the door to find you slumped on the floor, eyes fluttering open at the disturbance. He takes a deep breath, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Cariño, it’s me,” He speaks softly, “Can you hear me?”

He takes your face in his hands, turns it towards the quickly fading light, finding the cut on your forehead. The blood has dried and scabbed over, but there’s a trail of crusting blood down your cheek and side of your neck. He thinks of Helena in this moment, about draping his jacket over her naked body, cradling her to his body, reluctantly handing her over to a paramedic, not knowing what would come of her.

“Javi?” Your voice is quiet, but your eyes are looking at him, glassed over, but at least you recognise him.

“That’s me,” He speaks softly, “Are you okay?”

“Tired,” You mumble, and then you shake your head in his hands, “Head hurts.”

“Shall we move you?” He asks, knowing he can’t leave you here, “Come here.”

Letting go of your face, he runs his palms down your arms to where your hands are clasped together. He gently pries open your fingers and takes hold of the card there, holding it up. It’s the card he’d given you with his number on, edges torn and worn. He can clearly see where you've run your fingers over the printed text, and where it's sat in your purse, pulled out and slotted bacon whenever you've needed him. He tries to take it, but your hand clasps over it again.

“Don’t,” You whisper, “It’s mine, don’t take it.”

“It’s okay, Cariño,” He replies, “I’ll keep it safe, just let me have it whilst we get you into the car.”

“My keys,” You mumble as he stands up, leaning down despite the protest of his knees and his back, “I dropped them.”

He’s scooping you up, not quite able to carry you, but able to lean you against his side to walk you to the passenger side of his truck.

“Where did you drop them?” He asks, settling you into the passenger seat, leaning across you to clip your seatbelt in.

“My car-” Your head lolls to the side, eyes hooded as you look at him, “On the ground.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, shutting the door gently. He finds your keys on the ground by your car, and then after checking that the doors are still locked, he shoves the keys into his pocket and focuses his attention back to you.

The drive out of town is slower, Javi conscious that he doesn’t want to jostle you too much. Each corner he turns makes you groan. He had considered taking you to your own home, but he decides instead to take you back to the ranch. He pulls up, noticing the lights on in the living room. He knows he’s going to have questions from his father, but he doesn’t worry about that, instead he focuses on getting you out of the truck and into the house.

There’s a look from Chucho when he bursts through the front door, but Javi gives him a clipped shake of his head and instead walks you up the stairs and into his room. He sits you down on the side of the bed, kissing your forehead as he grabs some supplies from his bathroom - a warm, damp washcloth and his bag of first aid supplies, put together by Chucho when he’d come back to the ranch - his dad not convinced he wouldn’t injure himself with the manual labour.

“Hey, cariño?” He speaks softly, on his knees in front of you, “Look at me?”

You do, but your eyes are barely open. He works quickly, wiping away the crusted blood from your face first before he turns his attention to the actual cut. Once he’s cleaned it a little, he can see it’s not as deep as he’d anticipated. He brushes it with an antiseptic wipe, soothing you when it stings enough to make you gasp, and then covers it with a small plaster.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble as he eases you back on the bed, head down on his pillows.

“What for?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair from your face.

“Scaring you off.”

“Oh hermosa,” He breathes, feeling guilt pool in his stomach, nut not ready to quite face the conversation of what really made him run that night, “I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

He listens to you groan in approval, moving your body to get a little more comfortable.

“What happened today?” He asks quietly, trying to keep you awake so he knows who did this to you.

“Went to the house,” You speak, punctuated with a yawn, “Asked Garrett about the house.”

It’s almost like you get a second wind, trying to sit up, but he knows you need to stay still, so he gently pushes you back down.

“It’s him Javi,” You groan, “He’s the one dealing the drugs.”

“Shhhhh,” It’s the only thing he can think to do, “Just rest, cariño, we can talk later.”

Javi sits there for longer than he needs. You’re softly snoring within minutes, but he still sits there to make sure you’re out for the count. When he’s sure you’re settled and still breathing, he heads downstairs, ignoring his father’s knowing look as he pours himself a generous amount of whiskey.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Javi shrugs, “I’m not sure,” He answers honestly, “It’s new.”

“Not that new,” Chucho huffs, “You were always shit at sneaking around,” He picks up his own drink, “Saw you after my birthday.”

Javi tips his head back and can’t help but chuckle because it’s true, he was never good at keeping things from his dad. He just hopes you’ve both done a better job at keeping things from your parents.

“You know what you’re doing with her?”

It’s a question he doesn’t really know how to answer, mulling over the answer in his mind before he lets his mouth speak.

“I just know I want to keep her safe,” He speaks, “And that I think I might love her.”

Javi watches as Chucho’s mouth grows into a smile, a small nod given in his direction.

“Will she be okay?”

Javi nods, “I think so yes, hit her head pretty hard, but I think after she’s slept she’ll be okay.”

Chucho pushes himself from his chair, draining his almost-empty cup. He puts it in the sink and then puts a warm hand on Javi’s shoulder with a squeeze.

“I just want you to be happy, finally,” He says, “That’s all that matters.”

Javi watches as he walks away, off to his room to sleep, and speaks into the silence of the empty kitchen once he’s gone, “Thanks, dad.”

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (03)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, drama, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

←Previous Chapter (02) | Next Chapter (04) →

****

Eight Years Ago; 2015

There was a small food cart on the outskirts of Incheon where two best friends frequent.

“Oi, shithead. You’ve been fucking staring at your food for twenty-two minutes already. What the fuck is wrong with you? ”

Jungkook whined, complaining about how creepy it was that his best friend knew how long he looked at his food and how you spit out three profanities in one sentence.

“Shut up.” your face turned red, embarrassed that your habit of knowing the exact time was showing. You developed this meticulousness back when you were writing your thesis paper. Time was precious. Thanks fuck you were done with it.

You graduated today. You and Jungkook were currently eating noodles to celebrate. Your best friend initially demanded that you cook his favorite crab spring roll, but your hands were tied. The graduation ceremony took forever to finish; your professors and friends even pulled you to celebrate after.

You were not a killjoy, but you didn’t want to end this day without seeing your best friend, so you quietly ditched the party and sought Jungkook’s company instead.

“You really came to see me. What a good girl you are.” Jungkook cooed when he saw you waiting at his doorstep. “ Here, your graduation gift.”

“HA!?” You were dumbfounded upon seeing his present. “You got me a choker?!”

“Of course! You are so busy these days. I got you a collar so you wouldn’t forget who you belong to.” Jungkook said in jest to conceal his selfishness. He wished you could spend more time with him, not just fleeting moments like eating spicy noodles in a small food cart, which he didn’t even like.

“Why the fuck did you order it if you don’t like spicy noodles!?” A vein popped into your head.

Jungkook groaned, “You know how much I hate upsetting a pretty lady.”

The ‘pretty lady’ Jungkook was referring to was an old lady called Louisa, the owner of the ADA--the food cart. This place was near your high school alma mater. You and Jungkook still went here despite graduating high school many years ago.

Jungkook usually ordered the shop’s best-seller crab spring rolls, which inspired you to make your version of said food. You remembered begging Louisa to teach you how to make it, but the lady couldn’t just give away her family’s recipe. She taught you the basics, and that was where you started until you got Jungkook’s approval.

Content with your version, Jungkook no longer ordered spring rolls whenever you two ate at ADA. He preferred their crab noodles, but only spicy foods were left now since you arrived late. Jungkook refused to change stalls because he adored Louisa.

“You’re really something.” You bought a can of milk for Jungkook to counter the spiciness of his noodles.

Jungkook pinched your cheeks in appreciation. He was happy that he managed to take a few bites and ignore the old man across the street who was singing out of tune.

Natsume was what the old man called himself. He had been doing his business across ADA for a long time. The only reason he wasn’t shooed away was that his performance wasn’t a song at all. He was making up random tunes while expressing what the ‘future’ of some people would be like.

In short, he was a fortune teller, and all his ‘predictions’ apparently came true.

Jungkook didn’t dare believe him. He got particularly annoyed at Natsume when he predicted his future and yours. He sang, “Fall out, fall out, you two will have a fallout. One so nasty it will break your hearts, with no hopes of returning ~.”

Jungkook still cringed every time he remembered that. He looked at you, ready to ridicule the fortune teller in front of you.

Who would have thought this was the start of the fortune teller’s prediction coming true? You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, but you did, saying, “Jungkook, what are your plans for the future?”

You were influenced by the main topic at the graduation party earlier. Everyone you knew was planning their future. You feared Jungkook wasn’t doing the same—that he wouldn’t belong.

“Haven’t I told you already? Jimin-hyung and I are committed to our business.”

Your jaw automatically ticked upon hearing Jimin’s name. You never really hated anyone, but Jimin might be the exception. Jimin was why Jungkook dropped out of university. He coaxed Jungkook into emptying his bank account for Bighit, their Business Process Outsourcing venture.

Now Jungkook was broke, only relying on his small interest in Port Mafia.

“How about school? Don’t you plan on going—”

“No.” Jungkook ruthlessly cut you off. The move didn’t deter you from speaking your mind, though.

“Why not? You only need to finish two semesters to graduate. It’s a pity you’re settling with just this.”

“Just what?” Jungkook raised his brow, irritation flaring up. He had a hunch of what you were implying.

Sure enough, you swallowed hard to cover your nervousness. “With this…I mean…dropouts are…” You struggled to find the right words to say.

Jungkook huffed, supplying the words for you. “…are what? Stupid? Lazy? Unambitious? Or a waste of time?”

“Oi, don’t put words into my mouth.” You hissed, getting pissed off too.

“But that’s what you wanted to say, right? You think lowly of me. You’re just like the rest of them.”

Jungkook heard all kinds of snide remarks when he dropped out of university. His adviser even called him a lost cause— that he would never be successful if he didn’t finish school.

  Bullshit.

Jungkook felt acid crawling up to his throat. “People like you think you’re above everyone just cause you have a degree, right? Arrogant.”

You lost your composure because of how hurtful he was being.

“So what if I’m arrogant!?” You dropped your chopsticks, no longer in the mood to eat. “I’ve earned a degree. I’m finished with my commitment, unlike you, who quit and only settled with faking smiles and licking the butt holes of people richer than you!”

“You--!” Jungkook clenched his fist. He always knew his best friend had a sharp mouth. You said things that made sense, but damn, they hurt. This wasn’t the first time you said something biting, but it was the first time you had hurt Jungkook’s feelings.

It was too late when you realized what you had said. Jungkook’s eyes were already red. You knew Jungkook hated fake pleasantries and wooing greedy businessmen, yet you used those things as a weapon to hurt him.

Truly a low blow.

“Screw you.” Jungkook spat before storming off.

Feeling defeated, you didn’t run after him, deciding to just go home alone and leave Jungkook to cool off.

But the following day, you found yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s apartment. The thing about you was you couldn’t bear fighting for real with your best friend. Bickering with him was fine, but you’d rather die than really hurt Jungkook.

You rang the doorbell. It was early in the morning. 4am. Every second that passed knowing you and Jungkook were not okay was like a stab in your heart.

Surely, Jungkook had calmed down. If he hadn’t, you would accept any kind of punishment. You just wanted to see him.

“Come on.” You pressed the doorbell once again. It never took Jungkook two rings to open the door for you, so you seriously considered breaking in.

But to your delight, the door swung open before you could do something stupid.

“What is it?” Stone cold voice hit you on the face.

A lot. You wanted to convey many things, such as apologizing and saying Jungkook had misunderstood your point. However, looking at your best friend’s still angry face left you no choice but to lower your eyes. Your heart felt like it was pricked by thousands of needles.

You knew you were in the wrong. You could only raise the paper bag you were holding.

“I made crab spring rolls. Do you want them?”

“What makes you think I want them?” Jungkook crossed his arms, which caused you to swallow hard.

You bit your lip too, looking at Jungkook despite your guilt. “You’re right, you might not want them anymore, but I can only bring this hoping you’d accept my apology and also...also to—”

You weren’t planning to bring this up while still outside Jungkook’s home, but you couldn’t bear to look at his angry face anymore.

You voiced out your trump card. Your last resort. “—to ask you if you’re willing to guide me on investing at Bighit?”

As expected, Jungkook was shocked. His lips parted wide. “Why? You don’t mind licking butt holes with me?”

“Oh, for Fuck’s sake!” You pushed the paper bag into Jungkook’s chest. “I was wrong, okay? I’m an arrogant devil. ”

You craned your neck, purposely showing off the choker adorning your neck.

Fire danced in Jungkook’s eyes. He lowered the paper bag to cover the bulge in his sweatpants.

Fucking hell, you’re so hot. Jungkook scolded himself, forced to contour his expression to neutral.

“Then what are you waiting for? Come in.”

Needless to say, you left Jungkook’s apartment feeling grateful that you had a choker to cover some obvious bite marks.

Present, 2023:

“Pwetty lady! Spring yoll! Bin-bin! Want!” A certain someone was banging the top of ADA’s table, almost as if he couldn’t wait for even one more second.

“Hey, kiddo. You already ate seven pieces.” You folded your arms across your chest, your brows furrowing at the small child sitting before you.

The said the child pouted his lips, his eyes losing their sparks.

Jungkook’s sparkling eyes were still vivid in your mind, probably because you had just finished reminiscing about what had happened five years ago. As a result, you couldn’t help but associate this kid with your former best friend.

You always thought that Jungkook’s eyes could replace the stars. It was your weakness. Those eyes made you want to dig your heart out and give it to Jungkook for free. The universe knew about this, so why must you suffer it the second time?

Why did Soobin, the kid in front of you, have to have the same sparkly eyes as Jungkook?

“Spring roll! Want!” They even had the same favorite food.

You scoffed. Like father like son, huh?

“A brat dares to make demands when he can’t pronounce the words right? Spring yoll, my ass.” You mocked the kid.

Soobin ignored you. He continued banging on the table.

“Spring yoll! Bin-bin! Want! Spring yoll!”

“Okay, fine. I’ll buy you more. Just you wait, young master.” You playfully rolled your eyes, giving in to the request of your adoptive son.

“Is it that good?” You took one piece of spring roll. It had been many years since you last tasted this. Back then, you’d rather have Jungkook eat them all.

“Good! Very good!” Soobin stuffed another piece inside his mouth, clearly enjoying it.

The kid was right. The crab spring roll was delicious. It tasted the same way it did five years ago. You unconsciously gripped your phone, fixing your gaze on the screen as if waiting for a New Year’s miracle.

But it never came.

Last night, you met up with Jungkook, hoping to talk to him. Unexpectedly, Jungkook was drunk.

Now that he was sober, you thought he would call.

What wishful thinking.

“But nothing’s changed.” You thought to yourself as you looked around the place. ADA was still open for business; its famous spring rolls were still loved by many. Even Natsume was still singing across the street. The only difference was that you couldn’t hear the old man singing.

ADA expanded its business. They now had alfresco dining. You chose to eat inside the restaurant, afraid Soobin would catch a cold.

Everything stayed the same except for people. Back then, you went to ADA with your best friend. Years later, you went to ADA with your former best friend’s kid.

You could only swallow the bitterness down your stomach.

“Full! Wanna go home! Sleep!” Soobin said after eating the last piece of spring roll.

You hummed, “We’ll go home in a while. Count one to one hundred first.”

Soobin threw dirty looks at you as if to say, “This young master doesn’t know how to count!” You laughed a little. Of course, he couldn’t count up to a hundred yet. He was still so young.

So young.

But someone had already missed a few years of Soobin’s life.

You looked at your phone again.

Still no call.

“Alright, Bin-bin. Let’s go home.”

At last, you and your son left the food shop. As you two walked out, the horrible singing voice of the fortune teller reached your ears.

His lyrics were as nasty as before. Soobin covered his ears in annoyance, asking you to walk faster as he didn’t want to hear Natsume sing:

ring, ring, ring

the phone rings

the boy saw black

and the girl saw red

ring, ring, ring

the phone rings

how cruel it is

to have you waiting

for someone who can’t

 even

breathe.

****

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A/N: comments motivate me to write. leave some if you can ~~ ❤️

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (9)

ー☆ Chapter 9: You (Show Me Where My Days Went)

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 9.8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hi, lovelies!! LMLAR is BACK!! I am sooo happy I could finally update and just write, y'all have no idea! I am so sorry for making you wait so long for this update, but finishing my thesis was super important! I still have to study and such this month, but I promise next update won't take as long as this one did! (I'm writing other stories too while writing this one, so that kinda backfires sometimes lol) I am forever grateful that you are patient and stick around for the new chapters, this story is so dear to me you wouldn't even believe it. I am also super grateful and happy whenever you leave feedback, so please, keep on doing just that!<3 This chapter only exists because I was randomly inspired, and I'd like to apologize if it's a little rusty, I always have to get in "character" when I write this story lol. I am soo excited for next chapter, I think it's going to surprise you hehe. PLS PLS imagine that airport look from Mingi when reading this chapter, the pics from the moodboard, you'll see during which part! I also have a very small surprise at the end of this chapter hehe. I hope the time jumps aren't too confusing:(( Please, listen to the song called You before or while reading! Enough yapping, I hope you enjoy and leave feedback! (Taglist is always open for those interested! ^^)

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

Later that day

I hate him: hey…just checking in that I got home safely what are u up to?

I blinked, fingers tightening around my phone before I locked it, leaving the message on unread. My mother’s shuffling outside my door caught my attention, bringing a smile onto my lips as I watched her struggle while bringing all the dirty laundry to the bathroom. Then, I got off my bed to go help her.

Friday (11:30 am)

I hate him: i see u still haven’t checked my message… nothing too worrisome u certainly know how to make a man yearn for you lol that was a joke…dont freak out on me pls (lowkey true tho)

Friday (12:50 pm)

I hate him: lol, wooyoung has been bitching about seulgi’s professor for half an hour now mr. kwon u know him? i mean…i suppose he also teaches u i should take a sneaky video for u…wooyoung looks like a clown hanging upside down my bed and pouting like a damn child too (dont say im also one, thanks)

Friday (15:26 pm)

I hate him: well…ik my messages are going through so uh… why tf are u ignoring me???! *cries and dies in loneliness* entertain me dollll!!! im so bored pls oh…u said u had an important assignment…i bet u’re busy with that sorry for spamming u (text back tho when u’re done, im dying here…wooyoung is with seulgi and so is seonghwa with hongjoong…the single life sucks, bestie…lets be single and depressed together<3)

My jaw clenched as I heaved a long sigh, falling back on my bed as the sun shone brightly through my open window, the light breeze making me shiver as I only wore a t-shirt and sweats. Autumn was slowly turning into winter; the weather wasn’t so warm anymore. I threw another look at my phone, unlocked it, and stared at the received messages from Mingi for a second before finally deciding to delete them from my notification center, rolling over in bed to muffle a frustrated scream into my soft, and purple, pillow.

            Saturday (9:09 am)

I hate him: i had the weirdest dream and im not even sure i want to tell u about it LOL but uh…a grisly was chasing me??? and then u appeared on a fucking white horse like a prince LOL and threatened to like…slay it if it didnt leave me alone??? honestly…what a slay, bestie good morning, btw, doll hope u had a better night’s sleep than me (and dreamed of me ehehehe)

            Saturday (17:40 pm)

I hate him: i cant believe i allowed myself to be fooled like this back in highschool yuyu and i used to play baseball for shits and giggles and hongjoong (that rich prick) rented a whole ass baseball field for us for the afternoon and let us play with some of his (rich af) friends and uh… i think i wont be able to walk straight for another week with how much running i did… hongjoong kept scoring homeruns…i wish yuyu was here to kick his loser ass (dont tell hwa or hong i said that PLS) yo doll…everything’s alright with u? uh u…really havent answered me since… yk…i stayed over and waited for the rain to stop… have i done something wrong?

I sighed and put my phone on ‘do not disturb’, suddenly having lost all of my appetite as I forced the rest of the lettuce down my throat. My mother was sipping her kiwi and apple smoothie, eyes narrowed as she muttered to herself while trying to memorize the recipe of a dessert for later. Desserts were never her forte, unfortunately.

“Is it Seulgi?” She asked absentmindedly as I took a large gulp of my own smoothie, staring down at my salad, steak pushed to the side in my plate.

“Huh?” I asked distracted, eyes still glued to the dark screen of my phone.

“Texting you, your phone keeps buzzing, my starlight.” I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t bother to comment on it. I took a peek at my mother and her eyes were narrowed at me already, video on YouTube paused. Fuck, I had to answer her now or else she’d pester me all day long. And that would be a nightmare.

“Yeah, it’s Seulgi.” I lied, trying to make my voice sound convincing.

“Well, answer her then, don’t be rude.” My mother chastised me, pressing play on her video again, pursing her lips as she shook her head at whatever the man baking was saying.

“Later.” I whispered, biting my lower lip as my eyes remained glued to my phone, stomach clenching and heart dropping.

But I couldn’t.

            Sunday (1:01 am)

I hate him: …you’re ignoring me, arent u? im sorry, y/n, i dont know what i did wrong, but we can talk about it we’re friends, after all…right?

『When you came along, I knew what was wrong

If you want to know exactly what I've missed』

            Monday (present time)

            It truly would have been a missed opportunity if Seulgi and I wouldn’t have grabbed coffee and went to sit in our usual spot in the back garden. The campus of our University was huge and that was perfect, because it meant people migrated and didn’t stay in one spot for long—at least long enough to irritate me to no end. Last week deemed to be rather rough, and I still didn’t feel like completely myself. To be honest, I thought about staying home today—and for the rest of the week—but I couldn’t afford missing any of my classes as exam period was slowly nearing, and so, I had to force my ass out of the house this morning before my mother could come and nag me about my weirdly unusual broody mood that has been going on for the past few days.

I hummed as I took a sip of my sweet coffee, enjoying the taste of warm caramel as Seulgi sighed loudly next to me, both hands cupped around her own coffee cup. The scent of cinnamon wafted from her cup and I scrunched up my nose, not too fond of the ingredient’s smell. Our classes started early in the morning today and we’d be here for at least four more hours, caffeine seemed like our only hope to stay awake and aware at this point. Given the fact that my baffling thoughts kept me up all night yesterday, I felt grateful that I was still on my feet at two o’clock at noon. As Seulgi fidgeted again, I chuckled and finally turned my head to look at her. She had a sheepish look on her face, and I tried not to laugh as I knew she was bursting to tell me all about her date with Wooyoung on Saturday.

“Well,” I started as I took a sip of my coffee, prolonging the suspense for her, “how did your date go?”

“It was amazing!” I had barely finished asking as Seulgi exclaimed, her cheeks turning rosy—and it wasn’t due to the cold air, “Wooyoung is—everything I thought he would be. He’s sweet and up for anything, he makes me laugh until I feel like passing out, and there’s just never a dull moment with him, you know?”

“One would expect that from him.” I muttered against my cup, laughing as Seulgi nudged my side, not looking too happy with my comment, “Oh, come on, it would be hard for Wooyoung to be different than the way he mostly presents himself; don’t you think?”

Seulgi grumbled something against her cup as she lightly bit into the carton, shooting me a pointed stare, “Well, yes, but…he makes me happy. Treats me well and all that, you know, he’s the perfect embodiment of what a boyfriend should be like.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” I teased with a smirk, wriggling my eyebrows at my best friend as her cheeks flushed an even darker color as she bit her lower lip, trying to mask the huge grin expanding on her lips. But as soon as I started giggling, Seulgi also broke out in a fit of giggles, hiding herself behind her wavy hair, pressing her cup of coffee against her face.

“God, I’m so down bad for him, Y/N, I don’t think you’d understand.” She mused, voice airy as she threw her head back, leaning back against the back of the bench. I chuckled and took another sip of my drink.

“Maybe I’d do.” I muttered, memories of my relationship with Yunho resurfacing. Thankfully, however, I managed to repress them as quickly as they came. They didn’t feel so gut-wrenching anymore, and to my surprise, didn’t leave a bitter taste in its wake either. What has changed? Certainly—certainly getting closer to his best friend didn’t influence the way I feel about Yunho, right? Right.

“So,” I glanced at Seulgi from the corner of my eyes as she swung her legs, looking down at her feet in the process, “how are you?”

“Fine, why?” I asked confused, angling my body to face Seulgi better.

“You’ve been…distant the whole weekend. I could barely reach you.” Seulgi’s voice sounded small and I gulped, feeling bad for making her worry about me, “You know…the last time you pulled away and disappeared, it was bad.”

“I promise you I am doing completely fine, Seulgi, you’d be the first person to know if I was in a bad headspace again, alright?” I reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Seulgi sighed and then raised her head to look at me, lips pulled into a thin line.

“Promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” I smiled at her warmly and she hummed in contentment, squeezing my hand back as she took a sip of her coffee. I followed suit before removing my hand from hers to fiddle with my half empty cup, “I’m just dealing with some things right now. I think I’m confused.”

“About what?” Seulgi asked curiously, leaning closer as I continued to avoid eye contact with her.

“I’ll tell you once I have my thoughts sorted about it.” I chuckled, making Seulgi roll her eyes in displeasure.

“You know, I tell you absolutely everything about myself and how I fell, and you always shut me out and tell me how you felt about a situation when it’s been over for years.” Seulgi pouted, narrowing her eyes at me, “How’s that fair, Y/N?”

“Hey, we work differently, don’t try to guilt trip me now.” I chuckled and took a sip of my coffee, making Seulgi roll her eyes, “Anyways, what did you do on your date with Wooyoung?”

“We went to the cinema,” Seulgi’s face lit up once again, grinning from ear to ear, “He bought me roses, a big bouquet. And after the movie we went for a walk and ended up stargazing in his cabriolet. It was really romantic.”

I smiled, feeling happy for my friend, she deserved someone like Wooyoung, “That actually sounds really amazing…and romantic.”

“Oh, my God, are you really Y/N? Where is my friend that hates anything that has to do with romance, cute stuff, and love?!” Seulgi’s shocked face was mocking and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned back against the back of the bench.

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not a huge fan of all of those things, okay?!” I shrugged, letting my arms fall from my chest as I pushed them inside my coat’s pockets.

“Who’s the culprit?” When I raised my eyebrows at Seulgi, a sign that I didn’t understand her question, she chuckled and leaned closer, “Who’s the man that’s changing your views on life, huh?”

“Man?” I asked with a scoff, giving Seulgi a deadpanned expression, “Does it always have to be about a man? Can’t it be just the fact that I had a change of mind?”

“Sure, because of someone.” Seulgi had a smug look on her face, acting as if she won the argument. But there was no argument here and she had no idea what she was talking about.

“Whatever—” But I got cut off as her phone dinged loudly. Seulgi, very comically, scrambled to reach for her phone and as she opened it up, a wide grin stretched onto her lips. It didn’t take two braincells to realize who had texted her, and thus, I chuckled and turned my head. I sipped my coffee, taking in my environment while Seulgi answered her boyfriend, giggling quietly every now and then.

The campus was finally silent and not as busy as it usually was in the early morning hours. The cold weather also helped in keeping the garden a little quieter as most people preferred to stay inside the warm corridors and classrooms. But the chilly air was good, it soothed my nerves and erased thoughts that weren’t productive. Similar to that, were the emotions that I didn’t want to deal with again, like the guilt that’s never left me ever since Mingi walked out of my house wearing Yunho’s old clothes. It felt wrong letting him take them without knowing the truth about them, but I didn’t feel ready to tell him yet about the truth. I was scared, surprisingly, of what he’d think of me once he found out about Yunho and I. I was scared that—he’d walk away, like Yunho had once done. And that was a very frightening thought. But when had I become so attached to Mingi? When has Mingi managed to infiltrate himself so thoroughly in my life, that the thought of completely losing him became scary? And why was I taking the past few days so badly? It’s not like we were as close as Seulgi and I, or him and Seonghwa and Wooyoung, yet, ignoring him felt like the wrong move to do. However, the reasoning I always circled back to was the fact that I needed space. I had to clear my mind, to find the purpose of this whole friendship that’s been blooming between us, and to make sense of everything. I had to figure out first why Yunho barely scraped my thoughts now, and why was it was Mingi who I found myself thinking of so often. In case you were wondering, no, I still haven’t found the reason, and it was becoming frustrating quite quickly. That near kiss was a—mistake. Yet, it could have been so much worse—it could have been a real kiss. And a real kiss would have ruined everything. I didn’t want to open up to anyone just yet, not when the memories of Yunho still haunted me in my dreams and drawings. Drawings that now more often than not consisted of Song Mingi.

And to my horror, the flipping of paper sheets is what alerted me back to my surroundings as I had been lost in my thoughts, oblivious to Seulgi putting her phone down and grabbing my sketchbook that lay between the two of us on the bench. As I turned my head, my eyes widened as Seulgi’s expression held surprise but amusement as well. She chuckled as she looked up, making eye contact with me. I lunged forward in an instant, trying to take my sketchbook out of her hands, but she leaned back and away, putting it behind herself.

“Bitch, I’m not the only one who’s down bad for a man.” She said with a laugh, making me groan as I gave up trying to snatch my sketchbook back from her.

“I’m not down bad for a man, Seulgi, stop this non-sense.” I hissed, cheeks burning in embarrassment as she kept flipping through my drawings.

“Please,” She scoffed, turning my sketchbook around and making me grimace as I came face to face with an exact replica of Mingi, sitting in his chair, at his studio that one time he invited me inside, “Who the fuck draws so many drawings of one single person if they aren’t in love with them—”

“I’m not in love with Mingi, stop it!” I exclaimed, heart beating fast as Seulgi raised her eyebrows at me, looking unimpressed, “Don’t ever again say that, Seulgi.”

“Okay, calm down, whatever. You’re not in love with Mingi.” She chuckled, closing my sketchbook but she didn’t hand it back yet, “But let’s face it, Y/N, you have a thing for Mingi. It’s super freaking obvious even without the drawings.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I hissed and finally snatched the sketchbook out of her hands, clutching it to my chest. I knew bringing this along today would turn out to be a mistake, and here I was, facing the repercussions of my actions.

“There’s this glint in your eyes whenever you look at him—”

“Yeah, it’s called dislike.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“And I see how you struggle to refrain yourself from smiling when you’re around him—”

“Bitch, be for real, Mingi and I aren’t even often together around you for you to notice that.” I scoffed, completely appealed by whatever absurd claims my best friend was making.

“So you’re not denying it—would it really be so bad if you liked Mingi?” But Seulgi ignored all my interruption as she raised her eyebrows at me, smiling softly, “He’s a nice guy. Very well-mannered and with a big, and good heart. Wooyoung loves him a lot and is always worrying about him. He says Mingi hasn’t been the same ever since his best friend moved away for college—”

“Mingi is Yunho’s best friend!” I blurted out before I could stop myself, finally feeling like a stone was taken off my chest as I bit my lower lip, averting my eyes from Seulgi’s shocked expression, “Mingi is the best friend Yunho had always talked so much about while we were together. I—do you understand why it would be so bad if I ended up liking Mingi?”

“Y/N,” Seulgi whispered, eyebrows furrowed, “for how long have you know?”

“Long enough.” I muttered before clearing my throat, “So please understand that I’m not ready for whatever the hell me drawing all those sketches of Mingi could mean. A month ago I was close to bursting out crying even at the thought of Yunho, and now I fail to remember his existence on my best days.”

When I dared take a peek at Seulgi, she was smiling softly, almost proudly, “Fine, I’ll pester you about this later on, when you’ve figured things out, but until then—you can’t deny Mingi isn’t hot—”

“Can we stop talking about Min—”

“Hi, girls!” I jumped in fright at the overly excited and shrill greeting as both Seulgi and I turned our heads to be met with…Wooyoung and Mingi. Speak of the devil. Suddenly, there was a lump in my throat, and my heart started beating just a little bit faster as my eyes fell on Mingi’s tall form. It didn’t help that underneath his coat he was wearing Yunho’s sweater—the one I had given him.

“Hi.” Seulgi giggled as Wooyoung leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek, the two looking sickly in love. It was actually endearing, but I’d never admit it out loud for my own sake as I knew I’d get teased about it by Seulgi. I averted my eyes from Wooyoung and Seulgi as they were muttering things to each other, and so, had no choice but to look up at Mingi, who looked—expressionless. Something in my stomach dropped at his cold demeanor, and it was worse that I wanted to assume it was my fault that he looked like that. But just as I was about to look away, he cracked the tiniest smile ever, and I exhaled, licking my lips.

“Hi.” My voice was small as I gulped, eyes trans-fixated on the tall man as his smile became just a little wider. I don’t think I had the power to ignore him anymore, not when he was standing right in front of me, looking like he wished to be anywhere but here.

“Hi, Y/N.” Having not heard his voice in days, it sounded even deeper and raspier than usually, making butterflies erupt in my stomach as my grip tightened around my sketchbook. I felt a little awkward, perhaps even tense, as Mingi didn’t say anything else, just continued gazing down at me with his sharp dark brown eyes boring into my own. I had so many things that I could’ve said to him, but I felt tongue tied. I didn’t know what would be the right way to approach him after I ignored him for so many days. Would he understand? Is he mad at me now? Does he hate me now? Will he forgive me—

“Okay,” Wooyoung chuckled, syllable drawn out and sounding amused, “I feel like I’m interrupting something here, yet they are basically just staring at each other.”

“You’re right.” Seulgi giggled, and I finally looked away from Mingi, throwing a glare at my best friend as she had leaned into Wooyoung’s side, who stood next to the bench and her.

“Shush, you two.” Mingi beat me to telling the two love-birds off, and I couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t poke your nose where it doesn’t belong to.”

“Look who’s lecturing me about poking my nose where it doesn’t belong to—”

“Wooyoung.” Mingi’s tone held a warning, and it made Wooyoung giggle as he leaned down and pressed a fat kiss against Seulgi’s cheek—again—making her push him away playfully.

“We’re headed to class, are you coming over later?” Wooyoung smiled down at his girlfriend, playing with a strand of her hair.

“Maybe, if I get to finish my project.” Seulgi said with a pout and Wooyoung hummed, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips this time around. I averted my eyes, not a fan of seeing couples kiss, only to catch Mingi already looking at me. He was expressionless once again, but he was fidgeting with his fingers, looking almost nervous. And as Wooyoung stood up straight and ruffled Seulgi’s hair affectionately, Mingi took a deep breath.

“Will you come to Outlaw this Friday?” He asked in a rush, sounding almost reluctant as his eyebrows furrowed slightly and he chewed on his lower lip. To my horror, I found my eyes fixated on his plush mouth and I gulped before I quickly averted my eyes, praying that nobody caught it.

“Yes.” I answered before Seulgi could, and nodded, smiling a little bit, “I won’t miss it.”

A beautiful smile spread on Mingi’s lips and he nodded once, looking too happy for something so little. I don’t think I’ll understand anytime soon why he gets so excited and happy when I listen to his songs or watch him perform. I’m no expert when it comes to music, my feedback is merely amateur and I’m not even a fan of his band yet.

“Cool, see you then.” And Mingi didn’t wait for Wooyoung as he turned around and walked away, steps hurried. I didn’t miss the confused glance Wooyoung and Seulgi shared before Wooyoung was off, chasing after his best friend. And maybe I would be soon able to make sense of my thoughts and feelings around Mingi, figure out what they meant and why they felt so real at times.

            Monday (16:58 pm)

I hate him: hi Me: hi I hate him: would it be a lot if i asked to meet u tomorrow? Me: no, im free in the afternoon I hate him: cool, me too so uh…we can hang out in my studio? Me: or we can go to that new café with pottery I hate him: really? Me: u did say u wanted us to go… I hate him: i certainly said so i’ll pick u up around 4 Me: u don’t have to i’ll meet you there I hate him: come on, y/n…let me drive u Me: u’ve driven me around too many times by now i’ll meet u there and that’s final. I hate him: okay, boss, see ya there Me: :))

            Getting here before four o’clock and having to wait in front of the cute café had no business being this nerve-wrecking. Yeah, Mingi hasn’t shown up yet—but perhaps that’s because there were still ten minutes until it’d be four—and I knew I had no reason to think he’d bail on me, but we hadn’t spoken since yesterday, when he had asked me if we could hang out. And so, waiting for him shouldn’t have had me breaking out in a sweat despite the cold weather, making me bite my lower lip harshly as I tried to smooth down the wool, green, brown, and beige patterned coat I was wearing. First of all, why the hell would I be so nervous about meeting up with Mingi alone at this cute café? He probably wanted to talk about that near kiss, and once we had that cleared, things would go back to normal—right?!

And maybe that was the reason which made me want to vomit on the sidewalk, the thought that I knew Mingi would demand answers—answers that I wasn’t yet ready to hand out. Why did I even agree to this? Because I missed him? I should have just stayed at home and done the project I’ve been procrastinating on—again. But when I heard the rumble of Mingi’s old Honda’s engine, I knew there was no turning back, catching the bus and running home to hide underneath my blanket.

As Mingi took his time to parallel park, I took a deep breath and gripped onto the strap of my tote bag harder, looking down at myself. My apricot orange sneakers matched the color of my blouse, the top two buttons out of five undone, but not showing too much skin. My blouse was tucked inside my washed out high waisted mom jeans, the black belt matching the color of my tote bag—I know black isn’t a color, I’m an arts major after all. My hair was pulled in a low ponytail just to prevent the wind from blowing it in my face, and I was thankful that I chose my wool coat as it kept me warm enough. I have opted to wear quite a few rings today, and because my neck felt too exposed, I decorated it with three necklaces of different length. I gulped hard one last time as Mingi got out of his car and took a few seconds until he managed to lock it. However, those few seconds were exactly what I needed to prepare myself to not pass out at the full sight of him.

Mingi, in true fashion to him, wore all black, except for his jeans that were a very dark shade of blue, almost black too. His turtleneck was tucked inside his jeans, a black coat with a hood keeping him warm from the cold late autumn weather. It almost made me smile upon seeing his own tote bag, black, and funnily matching mine. Except that his was plain, while mine had Claude Monet’s Water-Lily Pond painting painted on it, done by none other than yours truly, me. Mingi’s eyes were concealed by black sunglasses, and I snorted as he almost splashed himself up by stepping a little too enthusiastically into a big puddle. Two necklaces hung around his neck, reaching down his chest. A very obvious and sturdy silver cross necklace, and another longer chain that had pearls scarcely strung on it.  And in true Song Mingi fashion, his rings weren’t missing, only two of his nails painted black on each hand, almost as if he didn’t have time to finish doing them. My heart racing in my chest so fast just at the mere sight of him, certainly wasn’t healthy, right?

“Hi!” I squeaked out and wished to burry myself instantly as Mingi chuckled, a very charming smile spreading onto his lips. It was a little annoying that I couldn’t see his eyes, forced to stare at his plush lips instead—let’s be real, nobody forced me, I did it because I couldn’t help myself, “The sun is quite blinding today, isn’t it?”

And of course, in good old fashion, my mouth worked before my brain would agree to saying something out loud, and my cheeks were burning as I knew Mingi saw me look at his lips. I had to divert the attention somehow, and teasing him was my best method, actually. It always worked.  

“I’m trying to make a fashion statement,” Mingi grinned as he gripped the sunglasses and took them off in a very unnaturally hot way, “but hello to you too.”

“No need for a fashion statement when it’s just the two of us,” I narrowed my eyes, finding Mingi’s hair very soft and fluffy looking, almost as if he had recently washed it, and it wasn’t completely dry, “I’m not one of your fans.”

“Pity,” Mingi hummed, stepping slightly closer to me, “I thought I might just finally wove you.”

I scoffed, and as I was about to tell him off, he grabbed my tote bag and pulled me after himself, headed for the entrance of the café, “Did you have to wait long for me? Traffic was busier today, I had to take a few detours to get here in time.”

“Don’t worry,” I smiled as he opened the door for me and let me walk inside first, “I only waited half an hour for you to arrive, runway princess.”

“Runway princess?!” Mingi’s eyes bulged for a second before he started laughing loudly, making a few customers glance our way as we made it inside the café. I elbowed him in the stomach gently, not too keen of having people glare at us as he disturbed their peace.

“Don’t like the nickname?” I asked with a raised brow as we neared the front desk. The cashier had a friendly smile on her face while she greeted us as Mingi and I looked up at the menu, trying to decide what we’d like to have.

“Never said that,” Mingi answered with a chuckle as he threw me a quick glance, “it’s just surprising coming from you.”

“Why, can’t I call you a princess?” I chuckled, turning to face the cashier as I have made up my mind about what I’d like to have.

“Up until now you seemed to prefer the term ‘bro’, but I’m fine with whatever you decide on calling me, doll.” The look the cashier gave us made my cheeks flame up and I cleared my throat loudly, shooting Mingi a look that told him to shut up.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered embarrassed, smiling at the cashier, “can I get a strawberry cheesecake?”

“Sure, right away, and you, sir?” Her attention was on Mingi now, cheeks flushing the longer she looked at him. Okay, I could totally understand why. Mingi looked quite good right now, it was hard not to ogle him.

“A mint-chocolate cheesecake and a cappuccino?” Mingi hummed, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he looked down at the cashier.

“Plain cappuccino or with vanilla?” The cashier typed in our orders as she asked Mingi, averting her eyes shyly once he looked at her, pursing his lips.

“Plain,” He decided at last, turning to look at me, “are you not getting anything to drink?”

“An orange fresh will be alright.” I said as I reached inside my bag to fish around for my wallet.

“And would you also like to paint some pottery?” The cashier asked, pointing behind herself at all the displayed options. Mingi and I shared a look and I smiled as I nodded at him, making him grin from ear to ear.

“Yeah, we’ll paint some pottery too. Can I have a cup?” He asked, pointing at one on the higher shelf. It was a smaller cup, specifically made for drinking coffee. The cashier nodded and then looked at me expectantly.

“Uh, a mug will do for me.” I said and thanked her once she handed us the pottery and the paint that was used for painting these. Then, she tapped a few more on her tablet and told us the total. I opened my wallet to pay for my purchase, but Mingi had a card in his hands, the cashier already typing in the total sum for him to pay.

“Mingi,” I hissed quietly, looking at him with a frown, “what are you doing?”

“It was my idea to come here—”

“No, it wasn’t.” I cut him off, fingers curling into the scratchy fabric of his coat as I reached out to hold it, “I suggested we come here instead of going to your studio.”

Mingi sighed and pocketed his card, already having paid, then turned his body to face mine. I didn’t let go of his coat just yet, “Yeah, but when I drove you home during that downpour I asked you if you’d come here with me. So technically, it was my idea. Initially, anyways, it really was.”

“Mingi—” I started, but soon swallowed my words as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. My fingers tightened more into his coat and I gulped, suddenly feeling nervous due to our proximity. He faintly smelled of vanilla, it was a fragrance I didn’t except to smell on him.

“Can you not fight me on this one, please?” Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes softened up and I—struggled to breathe for a second as I stared up in his pleading eyes, mouth going dry. He looked—adorable like this, and I did not like the way I felt myself getting lost in his soft gaze.

“Let’s find a table.” I muttered, forcing myself out of the trance he placed on me, and grabbed my mug and the painting supplies. Mingi followed suit as he took his own cup and followed after me closely. We walked further inside the café and found a smaller table in the next room, closer towards the window. The walls were painted a faint orange and were decorated by white stripes that created abstract shapes. The chandeliers were white and hung low, the place well-lit for those who wished to paint pottery.

I placed the things in my hands on the table carefully, and then discarded my coat on the back of my chair and my tote bag by the leg of the table, pulling my chair out for myself. Mingi followed suit, however, he managed to almost send his cup tumbling to the floor when he took his seat. His eyes were wide as he just barely caught the cup, and I giggled as I watched him while opening the box that held all the paint. Thankfully, the table was spacious enough to harbor both our pottery and paints as the cashier brought out our delicacies. She threw Mingi a lasting look before she hurried back to the front desk, glancing our way at times.

“This is going to be a tough one.” Mingi said before scooping up a bit of his cheesecake with his little spoon.

“Why?” I asked with a chuckle, choosing a thin brush to start painting some flowers on my mug. My cheesecake could wait.

“Because I’m literally sat at a table with an arts major, having to decorate some cup by painting.” Mingi sounded stressed and I chuckled as I looked up at him, amused by his expression. His hair fell in his eyes a bit, and I found myself absentmindedly reaching over the table to brush it to the side. Almost as if realizing at the same time what I had done, we both froze. It felt like time stilled around us as I watched Mingi with a gaping mouth, slowly but surely, my cheeks becoming the color of a fire hydrant. But Mingi wasn’t better off as he bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes shyly as his cheeks turned the faint color of pink. Clearing my throat and accidentally choking as I hastily pulled my hand back, I averted my eyes and fought for my life to not choke. Thank God the orange juice was right there, I quickly took three large gulps.

“Th—thanks.” Mingi stuttered, staring at the table as he licked his lips, “Uh, it’s gotten long, my hair, I mean, I have to cut it when I get the time.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, grabbing my mug and chewing on my bottom lip in embarrassment—God, could the Earth swallow me up right now? Why the hell did I do that?! “Yeah.”

“Do you think I should change it up a little?” I paused as I had dipped my brush in red paint, and slowly looked up at Mingi, “Do something fun with it—like going blonde?”

“I hate blonde hair.” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Nice one, idiot. Yunho was blonde while we were together, and thus, yeah, I’ve hated blondes ever since. And to be fair—and this is not me shitting on my ex—but that hair color did not suit Yunho at all.

“Oh, noted.” Mingi whispered, pouting a little. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hating myself for the weird atmosphere I have created.

“Mingi, you can do whatever you want with your hair.” I spoke up, leaning down to try and look him in the eyes as he was busy staring at the table, “My opinion shouldn’t matter. It’s your hair. Go crazy with it, have fun, try out something new. Really.”

“But do you think it would suit me?” Mingi was still pouting as he finally looked up at me, looking quite crestfallen. My eyebrows furrowed and I tried to imagine him with blonde hair. He was quite blessed with his skin complex as most colors looked good on him, but perhaps I preferred Mingi with dark hair—black hair, more specifically. Like he had it right now. He looked—good. Handsome, even. Completely gorgeous. Fuck.

“I think it would suit you.” I settled on saying that. He didn’t have to know my train of thought, like at all. Mingi hummed in appreciation, and I watched as he reached inside his tote bag, pulling out a case that held his glasses. He took it out of the case and put it on, pushing it up on the bridge of his nose. He grinned when he looked at me and I chuckled, shaking my head as I looked down at my mug, finally starting to decorate it.

“There goes the cool, mysterious, hot celebrity act.” I teased under my breath, not expecting Mingi to hear me. But he did, and he started laughing, giving me a cheeky grin.

“Not quite a celebrity yet, but at least you admit I am hot.” Of course he was smirking as I gave him a deadpanned look, about to argue him on his statement, but he didn’t let me as he continued talking, “By the way, let’s exchange our cups when we are done. The mug will be mine and the cup will be yours.”

I tried to fight the smile off my lips, “So that you get the artwork of a talented artist for free to sell for an outrageous price later on when I’m famous?”

“I fear you have misjudged my character, doll.” Mingi’s eyes narrowed playfully, but there was truth to his words. I might just have misjudged his character.

“I still think you’re arrogant and selfish.”

“Of course you do, didn’t except anything less from you.” Mingi winked and then looked down, his cheesecake forgotten as he started decorating his cup, tongue just barely sticking out as he concentrated hard on whatever he had in mind to paint onto the cup. I chuckled and shook my head before focusing on my own mug, the silence that’s settle around us comfortable, as always.

            Mingi and I were the quietest table in the café as we worked in silence diligently in, painting our own pottery. Mingi, at times, would hum along quietly to the songs that were played on the radio. Despite his cup being smaller and easier to paint, I finished painting mine before him, and so, I took the time to savor my cheesecake even if it had gotten warm and a little too soft. Mingi was hunched over in his seat, glasses low on the bridge of his long nose, with his full lips either pursed or with the bottom one bitten as his eyebrows would furrow every time he almost made a mistake. It was a funny sight, and I grabbed my phone without thinking much, and snapped a few pictures of him, leaning lower and even closer to his face to get the funny angles, all while Mingi remained oblivious to it. I chuckled as I looked at the pictures I had taken of him, looking at him when I felt eyes on me.

“What’s so funny?” He asked curiously, eyeing my phone for a second.

“You.” I chuckled and stuck my tongue out as Mingi rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he heaved a long sigh.

“I’m finally done.” He grinned and I looked down at his cup, taking in the yellow chicks he had painted quite—clumsily. Well, not all of us had the skills of a painter—not that it was an issue or anything—it’s just that it’s been long since I had seen someone have the skills of a—kindergartner, “It’s pretty sick, huh?”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from giggling and nodded with my eyebrows furrowed, “I’d give it a seventy out of a hundred mark.”

“Hey! That’s too low!” Mingi said, looking offended. I chuckled before shrugging.

“You’ll have to work on your skills for a higher mark.”

“Fine, next time you come to the studio, I’ll make you sing.” Mingi raised his eyebrows, making me narrow my eyes at him playfully.

“Oh, I didn’t know we are in a competition.”

“We weren’t, until now.” He winked and then stood, grabbing my mug and his own cup carefully as he took it to the front desk for drying. I gathered the items we had used to paint the pottery with to place them back in the box, and couldn’t help it but sneak a glance at Mingi. He was leaned up against the front counter, grinning widely at the cashier as she spoke to him, using her hands for big gestures as she was probably explaining something. My eyes narrowed as Mingi leaned slightly closer to her, only to detach himself from the front desk and walk back towards our table. I looked away and busied myself with my glass of orange juice.

“So, we’ll get them delivered to our houses once they are dry and all.” He said with a smile, sitting down, “I hope you don’t mind I gave her your address too.”

“I don’t.” I muttered, chewing on the straw for a second, “I didn’t think you’d know my address.”

“Well,” Mingi flattened his hands on the surface of the table, “I’ve been to your house twice now. I think it’s only right I remember your address, doll.”

“Right,” I muttered, “you’ve been to my house.”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and I figured he didn’t like the tone of my voice. But before I could correct myself and explain that I had nothing against that, he spoke up, “Y/N, I—I didn’t mean to scare you or—I don’t know—make you think that I want anything from you. I mean—we are friends, and I respect you as a woman and as a friend, and I know we almost—kissed. But I—I don’t want you to think that I’m playing some sort of game with you to get—to get in your pants. I’m your friend. And even if I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t do that to you.”

Hearing him say all that felt wrong. I didn’t deserve any explanation from him. I was the one that’s overreacted that day, and Mingi was the one that deserved an explanation and apology from me for the way I have acted. I knew I couldn’t completely open up to him right now, that some parts of the truth had to be omitted today, but he also deserved to know why I had pulled back. And I wanted him to understand that it wasn’t his fault for the way I reacted to everything.

“Mingi,” I offered him a small smile and gripped my empty glass for some support, “If you think you are the reason why I ignored you, please, stop thinking that. It’s—we both leaned in, okay? We were both about to kiss each other, it’s not like you initiated it or forced me to do something I didn’t want to. And nothing even happened, for God’s sake. I reacted that way because I—”

When I paused, Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned over the table, gently poking my hand with his ring clad fore-finger, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable sharing it, Y/N.”

“But I want you to know this, Mingi.” I averted my eyes and took a deep breath, embracing myself for what I was about to tell him, “I had a boyfriend back in high-school who completely broke my heart, shattered it into pieces. And I know that happened a long time ago, and yes, I am over him, but I—I am scared people will treat me like he had treated me. I’m scared that if I let you close, you’ll just—leave. Like he did. And I know ignoring you for days was very shitty of me and I shouldn’t have done that—because quite frankly, Mingi, you deserve better—I just didn’t know what to do. I needed a few days to myself, to figure things out. It’s a bad excuse, but it’s the truth, and I think you deserve to know it. Since we are friends.”

Mingi’s face conveyed no emotion for a few seconds and I gulped, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Did he figure it out now? That I was talking about Yunho? That maybe I have started feeling something for him too, for Mingi? Would he stand up and leave? But to my surprise, a wide smile stretched onto his lips and he hummed, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Thank you for trusting me, it means a lot that you told me all that.” I bit my bottom lip, looking down at the table abashedly, “And I was never mad at you for ignoring me. I completely understand you, Y/N, and for the record, I have zero intentions of leaving you. And your ex is a fucking asshole for breaking your heart like that, tell me who he is and I’ll beat him up when I cross paths with him.”

There was nothing funny about what Mingi had said, especially since he was talking about his best friend, but the comically tough look on his face made me snort loudly as I shielded my mouth with my hand, trying to stop myself from laughing too loudly. Mingi started grinning like an idiot, his giggles deep, and making something coil in my stomach. When has Song Mingi become adorable instead of annoying?

“I doubt you’d want to kick his ass once you find out who he is…” I grimaced once that was out of my mouth, regretting it instantly. What was it about today that I couldn’t keep my thoughts and mouth in check? It was turning really frustrating.

“So, you plan on telling me one day?” Mingi wriggled his eyebrows, making me snort, “Like real besties gossiping and shit.”

“You never fail to make me cringe when you call us besties, Mingi.” I shook my head, taking a glance at my wrist watch. Oh, the time had flown away, it was well past five now, and the sun was going down. I’d probably have to head home soon to have dinner with my mother. I was becoming hungry too.

“Well, that’s what we are so…” He cleared his throat before slowly standing up, making me look up at him, “Did you know today we’re celebrating the Festival of Light?”

“Nope, I had no idea.” I shook my head, standing up too as Mingi wore his coat, “I don’t follow the events our city organizes.”

“Pity, it’s really pretty.” Mingi pouted, waiting for me as I grabbed my tote bag and pocketed my phone, “Should we check it out?”

“I mean…maybe?” I shrugged and Mingi beckoned me over as he crossed his arm with mine, making me chuckle as I looked up at him. He wasn’t much taller than me, but his sneakers had a thick sole and they made him even taller, “Where is this festival held at?”

“Just down the street, at the Citadel.” Mingi smiled as he led the way out of the café, waving at the barista as she blushed again, making me chuckle as I subconsciously nuzzled up against Mingi’s side, the air chilly as the sun had set by now.

“That barista totally has a crush on you.” I found myself saying as we walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid crashing into the people that came towards us. Yeah, there certainly was an event on-going in the city, otherwise you wouldn’t see so many people out and about around this time. Everyone preferred staying inside after the sun had set, not keen of the cold nights.

“You think so?” Mingi mused, bottom lip jutting out as he narrowly avoided a child that was running around, “I didn’t notice.”

“You must be really dense then.” I snorted, eyebrows furrowing as I looked up at him, “She was constantly blushing, and she was totally looking at you with hearts in her eyes.”

“How do you know when someone is looking at you with heart eyes?” Mingi’s question threw me off, and I detached myself from his side, clearing my throat as I looked ahead, pushing my hands in my pockets. He was warm, it made me realize as the cold bit at my skin now that I wasn’t nuzzled up by his side anymore.

“Well, they have this look in their eyes, you know? It’s warm, and soft, and it lasts.” I explained, feelings my cheeks heat up, “And their eyes always linger on you when you aren’t watching them. It’s like…puppy eyes, I suppose? I wouldn’t actually know, Mingi, nobody’s ever looked at me like that.”

When there was no response, I looked back to find Mingi looking at me intensely. My eyebrows furrowed as we have arrived to the Citadel, the gates open for the visitors of the festival. The place was packed, this wouldn’t be so fun anymore. I would’ve turned around and walked back home if I didn’t see how excited Mingi was when I agreed to come check it out.

“There’s lots of people here.” Mingi muttered, and then walked closer to me as I led the way inside, a little baffled by his reaction to my answer. I just merely gave an answer based on my beliefs. It was him that was acting weird now. But as I looked at him, I could see it in his eyes that he didn’t want to talk about this topic anymore, that he wanted us to drop the subject. His last comment was a way to veer the conversation in a different direction. What was it about us today making everything weird? I sighed and just walked further inside, trying to avoid the big crowd which seemed almost impossible as it stretched on and on. The Citadel, however, was beautiful as it was coated in darkness, only the little paper lamps and fairy lights illuminating the place. It had a certain aura to it, almost romantic, and I soon found myself smiling as we walked down the cobblestone path, still trying to avoid people and stick close to each other’s sides. The air was chilly but the walls of the Citadel did a great job at keeping the breeze out, and the crowd certainly kept the place warmer than it was outside the stone walls.

I found myself admiring the décor in wonder, my mouth hanging open as I took in all the little lamps placed down on the ground, following the cobblestone paths, illuminating our way. It was truly beautiful, it almost felt like the scene was taken out of a fairytale. I found myself filled with excitement and happiness as I turned to grin at Mingi.

“This is so beautiful!” I giggled, absentmindedly grabbing the sleeve of his coat and dragging him away from the path and into the dying grass as there was a panel covered with paper, and people were writing on it. Mingi remained silent, but as I searched around for a pen or pencil, I felt him watching me, “What, do you not want to write something?”

“If you manage to find a marker or pen, I will, sure.” He said with a shrug, adjusting the strap of his tote bag before he pushed his hands deep in his pockets. I chuckled and looked around for a marker, but it was hard to see it in the darkness whether they were laying around in the grass or not. To my surprise, a little girl standing next to me looked up at me with a small smile on her lips, and offered me her purple-coloured marker, saying she was done with her drawing. I thanked her with a chuckle and turned to face Mingi with a grin.

“I found one!” Mingi chuckled and took the marker from my hands, being able to reach high up where the paper was still empty, due to his height. The panel was illuminated from the inside so you could actually see what was written on the paper. I watched him as he wrote on the paper, hesitating for a second, before he stepped back and handed me the marker. I raised up on my tip toes curiously, and craned my neck to see what he’s written. ‘The moon is beautiful tonight.’

I felt a smile spread onto my lips as I looked back at Mingi, who’s expression was serious and almost sad-looking as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his tall nose. I craned my neck back once more to gaze at the dark sky, at the moon, and indeed, there she was, beautiful and shining brightly. It was a new moon. Taking a swift glance at Mingi, I raised back on my tip toes and stood close to the panel, reaching up, just underneath Mingi’s writing. Thankfully, I could reach just bellow it, and I grinned as I quickly drew a new moon, adding a little shading to it and dents as well, creating the illusion of a real moon. Mingi remained silent as I took a step back, admiring our work. I handed the marker to another child as I fished my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture quickly of our artwork.

“The moon turned out beautifully.” Mingi commented once we had stepped away from the panel to let others draw too, headed back onto the cobblestone path.

“Still, it’s not as beautiful as the real one, but I tried my best.” I chuckled as I crossed my arms in front of my chest for a second, avoiding a man as he wasn’t looking in front of himself as he raced down the path. Mingi threw him a displeased look before looking down at me.

“Your drawings and paintings are always beautiful, Y/N.” Mingi said and I found myself blushing, thankful that it was so dark he wouldn’t be able to see it. I uncrossed my arms and turned my body a little to face him. There was music coming from one path, the one which led to the southern part of the Citadel.

“Are you nervous about Friday?” I found myself asking him as Mingi veered us towards where the music was coming from. He looked at me for a second, and then shook his head.

“I’m rarely nervous when we have to perform.” He said nonchalantly, the back of his hand brushing lightly against mine. My heart did a somersault against my ribcage, but I ignored it.

“Oh, you’re such a cool guy.” I teased him with narrowed eyes, making Mingi chuckle.

“I rarely get nervous, to be honest, even less when it comes to performing.” He hummed, looking up at the dark sky for a second, “I trust myself and my bandmates that everything will go well, so, there’s no actual reason to feel nervous.”

“But I’ll be there on Friday, that still doesn’t make you feel nervous?” My question was meant to be teasing, part of our playful banter, but the way Mingi gulped and quickly averted his eyes told me that perhaps I hit the nail spot-on. Well, now I have turned things awkward again. I sighed loudly, chewing on my bottom lip as Mingi remained silent, the two of us walking down the narrow path as the music became louder as we were nearing the stage. Jazz music was playing, the lady who was singing had a powerful and smooth voice that carried over the crowd neatly. There were a few people dancing in the crowd.

“Perhaps having you there will make me nervous.” Mingi’s voice was barely above a whisper and I tensed when I felt his pinkie brush against my own, making me clench my hand into a fist. But a very quiet voice inside my head demanded me to accept Mingi’s subtle request, and willing my heart to stop hammering so hard in my chest, I relaxed my hand and slowly slipped it into Mingi’s. If he stopped walking for a milli-second, I didn’t say anything about it, and he also ignored it. His grip turned firm as he intertwined our fingers together, gently pulling me closer into his side as he smiled at a mother who apologised for his son almost running into us.

I gulped and kept my eyes ahead of me, too nervous to look at Mingi. Holding his hand like this meant nothing in particular, but it was a nice feeling. It made my cheeks warms and heart race. And I didn’t have to look at Mingi to know he was smiling like crazy, his cheeks just as red as mine as we came to a stop behind the dancing people.

Have I started falling for Song Mingi?

『It's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm just saying it's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

You, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

You're what I've been chasing

Show me where my days went』

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

so...the festival of light scene was totally inspired by me and my bestie attending it in our city lol; it was sooo beautiful and the pictures in the moodboard were actually taken by us; also, her and I kept laughing about the romantic vibes we were getting, all in all, we had a nice time...and OFC we make everything about Ateez so :))

I wrote that LOL I'm like Mingi, tall enough to reach the top where people haven't scribbled onto yet lol

also, this is what y/n's outfit looks like for anyone wondering, except for the colors as they are the way I have described them in the scene ^^

[lakesbian]

you know what. im going to follow my heart so we can move on with the wormread and just copy-paste what i said about danny in chapter 6.9 on discord with some minimal editing because it's not pretty but the general thesis is there and i don't feel like making it into proper paragraph form

okay so the thing thats fucking killing me abotu 6.9 is that danny is literally like. he tries to call taylor a nickname only her mom called her once he realizes he's fucked up bad and is trying to recover whichi s insane [because it's obviously going to be upsetting to her by reminding her of her mom being gone, and it also indicates that his fall-back for something going wrong w/ taylor is to try to appeal to her by poorly copying someone else's parenting style] and he also randomly tells her about how her mom wanted to move her a grade ahead but he wanted her to stay in school with emma to make her happy. and he's been Stewing On That despite knowing it's objectively not his fault (and i am reminded of how in his interlude he spends time Stewing about how he wishes annette were there to give advice) and he also cops up to the fact that that the whole thing about "being her parent and not her ally" (<- demented thing to say for obvious reasons) wherein he locks her in a room and demands emotional vulnerability from her even as she's becoming visibly upset & compares his actions to emma's was her grandmother's idea and then. here's the real kicker. once lisa shows up and prepares to take taylor away there are any number of actions a parent confident that they're doing the right thing for their child would normally do in response--not, like, Good actions, but things that a parent would be likely to pull. threatening to call the cops bc blah blah you're my daughter, wanting to speak to lisa's parents, any form of power move pulled over these two teenage girls but instead he speaks to lisa like she's an equal authority over taylor and seriously asks if she's "okay with this" (i should remind you of the concussion chapter where lisa is doing some insane power move shit over taylors dad covertly establishing herself as more competent at caring 4 her than him lmao) which is just like. it's so glaringly wildly obvious how this guy has Zero confidence in himself as a parent so he generally does nothing and then while he's doing nothing he oscillates btwn rationalizing it to himself as allowing her privacy/dignity, getting angry at himself/calling himself a coward, or getting mad at TAYLOR and blaming HER for not being the one to take initiation to be vulnerable with him and, like. he literally does make functional decisions prior to this for a bit! he's good and supportive at the meeting with the school board about the bullying!!! but it doesn't immediately solve literal years of distance between them that have led to taylor having to take decisionmaking for her wellbeing entirely into her own hands w/o being able to tell him about it [& having literally no route for human connection or support other than the undersiders] so he just completely crumbles on his own calls and seeks out/takes completely shit advice from taylor's grandma instead so i very much think what's insinuated here is like. especially given that he knows he has anger issues and never wants to Be Scary with them. he might have frequently leaned on annette for parenting decisions before she died and/or is really fucking haunted by the time(s) he didn't listen to her and it went wrong and now that she's gone he's just kinda floundering and trying to toss the baton for parental decisionmaking onto anyone else, including, at one point, the literal teenage girl who shows up to help taylor run away from his house. insane ! also. thinking about how taylor says her grandma (maternal) never liked her dad. that man would literally rather talk to the mother of his dead wife, who hates him, and take her advice than go 'yeah ithink im gonna keep using my own judgement for compassion towards my daughter' fucking worst anyones ever done it this guy has the spine of a twizzler it's great

...and then doing All That & severely triggering taylor's trauma from the bullying in the process completely shatters any trust he had built with her, catalyzing her realization that she wants to be able to have meaningful relationships with the undersiders & leading to her running away to leave with them! i don't think anyone can say for sure whether or not danny Not doing this would have led to taylor turning the undersiders in before realizing that she would regret it, but oh fucking boy does he make SURE she doesn't go thru with it. and it would be bad to call the cops on a bunch of systematically neglected traumatized teenagers regardless of how much crime they're doing so you know what maybe we should actually thank danny for his Shit Parenting stopping taylor from being a narc

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: I should make a fucking...(food) web of connected concepts with panels that connect them...

I love how Kabru is just part of this friend group, now. He invited himself and no one's questioning it. Laios invited him to lunch later, and that counts.

.

I love how everyone is varying levels of "oh fuck" until we get to The Current Party, where it's:

Senshi: thinking intently, a little grimly, about how he could butcher and cook this

Marcille: a dash of 'oh fuck', but also sad, in the way of watching a friend slide down a slippery slope

Chilchuck: incredible dad energy on this line, honestly.

.

don't you give my son orders, you piece of shit. you aren't worthy of being lord of anything. you protect nothing, wish to help no one, except your own desires. (The Demon never should've been alive at all. It's not suited to it.)

.

This is gonna look sooo cool animated in color.

.

I might actually be more offended by the demon wearing Kensuke like normal than by the whole wearing of Laios's body? It's so symbolic.

.

I want to know how the ancients achieved that - binding the demon such that, while underground, it could only warp reality in service to a living being's desires. Though really, that seems to be how it's always operated - the only desire it ever expressed for itself was to eat the desires of others. Otherwise, it's only shown fulfilling wishes, before it's locked in the dungeon as well as after.

But I wonder if having a physical form gives it the ability to want more? Does it hunger and third and want to rest, now? DOes it really feel a yearning not just for the completion of its plan, but for the open sky and sight of the world which it hasn't seen in so long?

.

Needless to say, we love a visual parallel.

.

yep, this sure is the Eating Each Other Cyclically chapter! (This is the Eating Each Other Cyclically story, actually. It's called the ecosystem!)

.

oh I hate this actually. It's scary in a real way. I do not like being forced to acknowledge that Chilchuck is much, much smaller, weaker and more fragile than Laios. I do not like seeing him curled up and helpless and unable to ever reconnect with his family.

.

Freak cubed! Actually, how many times has it gone back and forth, now...?

the lion swallowed all of them

Laios ate hte lion in order to swap bodies (ish)

honestly I feel like the demon being counts as eating him in turn. Making Laios's body part of itself, you know? That's eating.

(monster!)Laios ate demon(!Laios)

demon(!Laios) is now eating (monster!)Laios

...so, Freak^5

.

The parallel to Marcille snapping at Laios to drop the plant seeds in Chapter 2... Love how every now and then people resort to yelling at this man like he's a dog. Truly, he is a beagle of all time (eats Things) ('Things' is an unlimited category of which the details are best left unknown)

.

THIS IS IT, BITCHES! THESIS TIME!! I'M GONNA USE "IF AND ONLY IF LIKE IT'S A GODDAMN MATHEMATICAL PROOF, BECAUSE THAT'S HOW THIS HAS BEEN PRESENTED THROUGHOUT!

LIVING IFF EATING IFF HUNGERING IFF WANTING.

TO DO ONE IS TO DO THEM ALL, FOR EVERY ENTITY IN EXISTENCE: EVERY RACE, EVERY CREATURE.

LIVING AND DYING, EATING AND KILLING AND BEING KILLED AND BEING EATEN, ARE ALL SIDES OF THE SAME COIN. YOU WILL DO BOTH.

IT'S CALLED THE ECOSYSTEM.

And it applies to social structures as well as biomes btw.

YOU WILL ALWAYS EAT, AND THEN YOU WILL ALWAYS HUNGER FOR THE NEXT MEAL. BECAUSE YOU ARE STILL ALIVE.

Which is why hunger(/living) is poisonous to this infinite being, btw: the cycle is infinite, sure, but specifically because any single creature within the cycle is finite. To exist as part of the cycle, the world, breaks the infinite being, even as the infinite being inevitably destroys the world.)

But most of all:

EATING (IFF BEING EATEN IFF LIVING IFF WANTING) IFF UNDERSTANDING IFF BEING CONNECTED/BEING PART OF

THE FUNDAMENTAL [DESIRE/HUNGER/LIFE EXPERIENCE/CONNECTION/SHARED UNDERSTANDING] OF BEING ALIVE IN THIS WORLD IS [EATING/LIVING/DYING/KILLING/WANTING/HUNGERING/BEING CONNECTED/UNDERSTANDING OTHERS/BEING UNDERSTOOD/WANTING TO BE UNDERSTOOD/WANTING TO UNDERSTAND/WANTING TO BE CONNECTED]

...WHICH DOES ALSO INCLUDE (MONSTERFUCKER) VORE

(This is the fucking...Theseus wrestling the Minotaur statue...of this world... People are going to make this statue of King Laios Eating the Demon... It's going to be in museums...and in the palace... The true curse here is that Marcille is going to have to see versions of this motif for her entire excruciatingly long life...)

[verdemoun]

no you know what fuck r* because i am up to that one mission in chapter four again and i can't handle it and every time i play through it gets worse because YOU KNOW WHO ELSE'S SUFFERING IS NEVER SPOKEN ABOUT???? FUCKING KAREN JONES. and it's pride month and i love women so let me weep.

because jack's party. jack's party is probably one of the best characterization scenes in all of rdr2 i will write my goddamn thesis on it you learn so much esp if you follow specific characters for the whole night but like karen. poor karen, who's drinking is obviously problematic and was so long before sean's death but noticeably worsened as she went to the only coping mechanism she knew to process her grief. because she's hurting and the gang are so fucking thick and repressed they don't even try to remember the happy times with sean. they leave his body and his memories in clemen's point and she can't so she drinks more than usual.

and people notice. arthur teases her to leave some for the rest of them and calls her drunk. mary beth shoves her, trying to force her to go to bed trying to care for her while fundamentally misunderstanding why she's drinking so much or without trying to address it. but between the singing and the drinking and throwing up you know what karen's doing? she's trying to get kieran to join in. she's encouraging him to have a few drinks, to find that level of comfort within the gang. because kieran is her friend too and not enough people talk about that!!!!!

karen jones queen of my heart was one of the first people to change their mind about kieran. second he was part of the gang she treated him like part of the gang. she was a safe enough presence that kieran confides in her he's scared of the boys around camp. she assures him he's one of them, she's drunk and dealing with the unbearable grief of losing sean and she still wants kieran former o'driscoll duffy to feel included.

and then kieran died, too. kieran was killed. and no one talks about how that would've impacted karen. she cared about sean, he gets killed. she cared about kieran, he gets killed. she doesn't even like molly for the most part and sees her get killed. she's not some sad romantic. she's grieving and not coping and anytime things get close to okay she loses someone else and grieves more again. until she self-destructs and loses everyone she ever cared about both either by them having to leave to save their own lives or abandoning her completely.

[orshii]

Will I Ever See You Again? Chapter 5: The Love You Want

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x reader

Warning: cursing, violence, blood

Word count: 5,8 k

Summary: You were left alone with your brother, Yunho, and his best friend Hongjoong, after your parents' death. Yunho had someone to grieve with, but you? You had no one as your brother and his best friend pushed you away, singing becoming your only savior. There was one rule that Yunho made inside his friend group: “Don’t touch my sister”. And for this reason, Hongjoong had always kept his distance. But one night, you find yourself in danger. And from then on, Hongjoong does not leave your side. He is suddenly overprotective of you, and your relationship shifts and becomes fraught with tension and unspoken feelings, with secrets lurking beneath the surface and a painful past haunting you. Will you find out the secrets your brother and best friend have been keeping away from you? Will you be able to finally free yourself from your cruel past?

Will you fall in love amidst the chaos around you?

A/N: Omg finally I could upload the next chapter. Sorry for not updating for so long I just had to finish my thesis, which I managed to do...finally. About the story, we are slowly reaching the end. *sobbing*. I really love this chapter, because we finally understand a lot of things here as the truth unfolds. And their connection is going to be stronger, both with Hongjoong and Yunho finally. I think there's going to be one or two more chapters left. Have fun reading it, let me know your opinion if somebody is still here! :'( (sorry if there are mistakes!)

(Series Masterlist)

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@xiang-zalea @cookiesandcreammy (taglist is open <3)

I wanted to throw up, to let all of these feelings out, I felt disgusted, sick of myself. I have never been hating myself this much.

I drove to the place that always calmed me down, it gave me peace. It was a parking lot up in the mountains, and when you walked to the edge of the parking lot, you saw the ocean and the town, where most of the people were already in dreamland.

I needed to stop while driving because I felt so overwhelmed, I was afraid I might kill someone on the road.

I stepped out of my car, the air was cold, but I felt hot, my skin was burning from all the blood that was continuously pumping into my body. I wanted to rip my heart out in that moment, to throw it into the ocean next to me, because I couldn't handle this pain.

I was breathing heavily as I leaned my back against my car, slowly sliding down on the dirty ground, I lifted my knees to my chest, burying my hand into my hair, trying to rip it out, as I wasn't completely myself, I wanted to hurt myself, for all the shit I said and for the things that happened.

I couldn't cry, I felt empty, I wanted to cry, just so my tears could comfort me, but they never came, just as I was alone all my life, no one was there to comfort me. No one was there because I pushed everyone away when they tried to comfort me. I needed to laugh, at myself, at life, for tricking me my whole existence, promising me good things, whispering sweet nothingness into my ear, so I believed, good was coming my way. But those were only lies. Lies, that promised me so much, lies that made me keep going, lies that kept me alive.

But as the truth came out, what was the point anymore? What was the point of living anymore? What was the purpose of my living? Was there any purpose?

These questions rounded my head all the time. It felt like I was in the middle of a desert, feeling thirsty, I saw water in the distance, but as I tried to reach it, it felt farther and farther away. That's called a mirage, a mirage is a thing you crave, but as you try to reach it, it suddenly disappears, it tricks you, making your eyes believe what you see. This is how life feels right now, and I couldn't escape the warm desert. And I wasn't sure if I even wanted to anymore.

I looked up to the sky, as my eyes fell on the beautiful moon above me, shining at me with its full power. Can't I just be the moon right now and disappear? Can I just shine in the dark, giving some hope to the people, whom can't find their way in the dark night? Would I be able to show the way towards people's desires? Would I be able to love myself, so I could give all my love to those who deserve it? Would I be able to…love someone? Do I even deserve to be loved?

The questions never stopped, but the answers were nowhere to be seen, as one particular face popped up in my mind. A smiling face, that comforted me every time I saw it, a face that gave me nothing but safeness. His beautiful sharp brown eyes reminded me of the depth of a forest in autumn. His thin lips reminded me of how gently he kissed me like he was a pirate and I was his long-searched treasure. His voice sounded like a melody, I never wanted to forget. His black and blonde hair, highlighted his eyes, his nose, and his lips. His hair reminded me all the time of how two-sided he was. He was possessive and overprotective but at the same time, he did all of this, because he was soft and caring.

I loved both sides of him…I think…I- I love him. I don't know when and how it happened, but I think I fell for Kim Hongjoong so badly, I couldn't stand up anymore. Not without him. I needed him in my life because I am not worthy enough at all without him.

That very familiar melody started to play in my head, as it always reminded me of Hongjoong, the lyrics that my brain created randomly, were always when I was with him. The realization hit me, as my brain knew what would happen from the beginning. I would have never thought that I'm going to fall for Hongjoong, who closed me out from their life, alongside Yunho, and I hated them for it. They had their reasons, but still, it was unfair.

Just as much as the things I said to Hongjoong, I can't even imagine what he went through. His parents died almost a decade ago, and since then we have had his family, at least it was Yunho and my father, and he had to watch as my father died, in front of his eyes, how unfair was this? My heart ached, at the thought of it, and the things I said to him, made me feel like I was the most unworthy human being on earth.

Hours went by as I sat on the ground, my car being the only support in my life. I was freezing on the chilly night, that slowly passed by with the hours, the sun slowly coming up, to switch places with the moon, so it can rest a bit.

I didn't feel anything at all, those hours passed by like minutes, minutes like seconds, seconds like milliseconds. I didn't think of anything, my mind was empty, I just stared in front of me, physically being there on the dirty ground, but mentally I was in a place where I felt at peace, I felt calm, I felt like I had no feelings and with that no problems.

The sudden noise of the early morning traffic brought me back to real life, realizing what was I doing, I stood up, blinking a few times, to get back my visibility. I walked towards the edge and looked down at the ocean.

It was so beautiful, the sun was coming up, luring me to melt into it. The sun shone through the calm waves, the ocean mirroring the sight above it, copying the colors the sun's rims let out, bright orange and red colors melting into each other like lovers.

 Seeing this mesmerizing landscape, made me realize how beautiful life was, it was worth living only as just for these. To see these miracles, makes your heart feel at ease. That made you forget all your problems, to make you feel like you are worth living. My common sense crawled back to my mind when I realized I needed to apologize to Hongjoong, I said some things to him, that made no sense and I'm sure he believed them, thinking it was really his fault. I decided I needed to tell him how I felt, how he made me feel, how grateful I was, how I…loved him. Even though he may think of me as Yunho's little sister that he needs to save no matter what, I wanted him to know that I would protect him at all costs.

I quickly sat in my car, as its engine slowly lighted up. My only destination being the boxer's club, as I knew Hongjoong always started his days there, practicing to be better day by day. My eyes were wide open, my heart thumping like crazy, I wasn't sleepy at all as sudden adrenaline kept me going, even though, I hadn't been sleeping nearly twenty-four hours. But I was very prejudiced to talk to Hongjoong, and after that, I think it was time to talk properly with Yunho as well.

After an hour passed and I was determined to get there until Hongjoong was still there, I finally arrived at the boxing club. Getting some flashbacks about the day he taught me boxing all of a sudden as if he knew I would make good use of those tactics. I did, for sure. It kind of saved my life as those bastards tried to attack me.

I parked my car and turned the engine off, luckily, I had to change clothes in my car, as I always kept there some just in case. It was just black sweatpants and a black oversized hoodie, it was actually Hongjoong's, I stole it when he left it in the living room, he didn't even notice it, so I kept it to myself, it gave me comfort, that I needed on my lonely nights.

 As I stepped out from my car, closing its door, a sudden gut, a bad feeling caught me. It was strange I never felt like this, and it was probably because I had to face Hongjoong and tell him everything.

I walked towards the entrance and went in. Suddenly I froze in my steps when I heard yelling from the main room, where the box matches were held, and probably Hongjoong was practicing, right now. But it was weird, these sounds weren't the signs of practicing men. It was yelling and laughing, and sudden hitting. I clearly heard Hongjoong's voice.

"Fuck off." His voice was determined and low.

I went to the door, so I could see what was happening, but I wasn't expecting what I saw.

My heart started to race, I pressed my hands to my mouth in shock, trying to not let any sound out, so they couldn't see me. I saw four men, their backs facing me, as they were standing in front of, Hongjoong, who was facing with me, looking up at them with killing eyes, being tied to a chair, his lips and nose bleeding. He was wearing his usual practicing clothes, a black short, ending at his knees and a black tank top.

You, being tied down,

Me, wanting to burn alive who caused it

"Tell us, where the fuck he is, or I'll use other hurtful methods, so you will speak, fucker." The one with the bleeding knuckles told Hongjoong, as probably he was the one hitting him.

"Well, I assume, he is not here," Hongjoong said with a devilish smile, blood rolling down his jaw. The men, who hit him beforehand, punched him in the face again, as Hongjoong just spit blood into the floor, waiting for the next punch.

Sudden anger started to boil within me. I clenched my fists together until it left deep red crescents on my palms. They couldn't see me, I needed to think about how I could help to Hongjoong. They were probably looking for Yunho, so I couldn't just call him here, he needed to stay hidden. But whom I could call then? My phone was dead, but I knew they had a telephone hanging on the office wall. I just needed to get there, somehow. But to get to the office, I needed to get through the room they were in.

Fuck, it was the most unfortunate situation. But they weren't facing me, I only saw their backs, and that was enough, to sneak into the office. Very quietly I stepped into the room, trying to breathe slowly, not making a sound. If I get caught now, it'll be the end of us. I had to do this, for Hongjoong. When I did a few more steps, Hongjoong's eyes caught me immediately, he was the only one seeing me. I froze in my steps, and slowly reached my index finger to my mouth, signaling him to be quiet. He slowly shook his head, his eyes telling me, to stop and run as far as possible. But I did not want to. I moved again, to the door being on my right, being closer and closer. I eyed the door, for a second, averting my eyes off of them.

"What the hell?" A sudden voice made me freeze again. My heart was in my throat. I slowly turned towards them, ready to face the cruel men, but when I turned around I still saw their backs facing me, I let the air escape from the relief. Hongjoong was laughing viciously, his laugh sending chills down my spine. He did this, I guess so he could keep them busy, so they won't notice me. I stepped a few more and finally, I arrived at the office, closing it very slowly.

Okay, think, Y/N, please, think… Who I should call? Who could help us out?

I couldn't call the police, there was no point, they would arrest us as well. I started to panic when a sudden image hit my brain. It popped up like it was in front of me.

When I was at searching for some evidence in Yunho's room, I saw a note on his desk, saying: "In case of emergency" and a phone number was added next to it. Fuck, but I don't remember the numbers, fuck. We were running out of time. I needed to think quickly, as my fingers were already pushing the numbers of the telephone.

"C'mon, pick it up, pick it, please…" I bit my nails in stress.

"Hello?" A familiar voice came from the phone, giving me relief.

"Yeosang, oh my, thank God, you picked it up. Please, listen to me very carefully it's an emergency and I need your help. And please don’t ask anything, I'll tell you everything okay?" I said quickly, trying to not raise my voice.

"Fuck, Y/N, okay, how can I help you?" His voice sounded concerned.

"You need to get to my house, very quickly, please. When I tell you quickly, I say, you can't drive like a snail, you have to break the speeding limits, because it's important." I got nervous as the voices got louder. I was scared they might kill Hongjoong.

Please, keep it up Hongjoong…

"Hey, I'm not driving like a snail, I just keep the rules, bro, as you should too," Yeosang told me offended.

"Fuck, Yeosang, there's no time for this, it's fucking serious, just leave the house already. When you get into our house, you need to go to Yunho's room, hopefully, there's a phone number on his desk on a paper. You have to call it and tell that person, it's an emergency and they got Hongjoong, Yunho is nowhere to be found. And we need help in the boxing club. Please, Yeosang, I know it sounds shit, but I really need your help and to be quick." I explained this shit situation to him, hoping he won't ask questions and just do what I asked.

"Shit, Y/N, okay, I'm already on my way, I got you, please be careful!" I heard Yeosang's voice full of worry.

I heard some noise from the room, becoming closer to me. "Thank you, Yeo, I need to go, I love you." I hung it up immediately, as the door opened, revealing the man from outside, who hit Hongjoong.

"Oh, well, well, what do we get here." He looked at me like I was a snack he wanted to eat right away.

Shit, I'm doomed.

He grabbed my arm and started to pull me out of the office and into the main room. I felt a lot of predator's eyes on me, but one was full of, concern and fear that seemed like he would kill this man right there if he could, just so he could keep me safe. I never took my eyes off Hongjoong's, as the man was grabbing me harder, leaving bruises on my arms, as I tried to wiggle out from his hands.

"Look, what I found— that fucking chick, who escaped from us." His voice was full of anger, as it was hard to admit, how stupid they seemed because I'd got to escape from them.

"Let, her fucking go as long as I say it nicely." Hongjoong's voice seemed demanding, as he grinned with a death glare, his words coming out like venom.

The guy, pushed me down to the floor, smirking.

My hair fell onto my face, from the impact, I kept my arms out to keep myself up. I started to breathe quickly.

Yeosang, please, hurry.

"What? Is she your secretly kept little princess?" The man, who brought me out said, pointing at me with lifted eyebrows.

"Just keep your fucking dirty hands away from her you fucker. She has nothing to do with this." Hongjoong said, looking at the man, now in front of him, that man would be already dead if Hongjoong could murder with only his eyes.

The man leaned down to Hongjoong, being at eye-level with him. "But she has to do something with you. You care for her." He smiled confidently, and Hongjoong suddenly spat on the man's face. It was red, making the man's face bloody. I never saw Hongjoong, this mad. He was shaking in the chair, his muscles were tense, almost breaking apart the rope that tied him to the chair, the veins on his neck thick and tense from the anger.

The man closed his eyes straightened up and turned towards the rest of the guys, his face still full of spit, as he slowly wiped it into his shirt. "Gentlemen, this angel, is our gift from above." He spread his arms, imagining as if he was in a fucking show. 

I needed to keep them busy, so they won't hurt Hongjoong and give enough time for Yeosang, so they can come here, in time.

"One, against four and I still won, fuckers." I suddenly said as I felt all eyes on me.

The guy who talked all the way turned towards me. And looked at me like he was surprised that I had the guts to even say something.

"Fuck, Y/N, shut the fuck up!" Hongjoong looked at me furiously.

I didn't look towards him, I was eyeing the man who walked towards me, grabbing me by the collar and pulling me up.

"Can't you just keep your mouth shut, just as your boyfriend told you?" His face was so close to me, I felt his stinky breathing, against my face. It was disgusting. He seemed like he was in his forties. I guess he was the leader of this fucked up gang.

I guess…he was the one, who killed my father.

Anger and adrenaline went through my veins. I couldn't control myself, as I suddenly headbutted him, forcing all my power into the strike. It hurt as fuck, as I felt a bit dizzy from the big impact, everything was blurry for a moment, but it was worth it as he stumbled backward from the impact, pressing his hands to his nose, which I guess broke because I heard a cracking noise. Did I just do that? Wow.

Hongjoong looked at me surprised. "You keep surprising me, sugar." He said, looking at me with a proud smile. There was no time to smile back, as I ran next to him, trying to untie the robe, that tied him to the chair. But the men were quick and one of them immediately caught me, pushing me far away from Hongjoong, letting me go as I couldn't keep my balance and I fell into the ground, my temple hitting the corner of the ring, making it bleed and losing my visibility for a few seconds.

I was just laying on the floor, only hearing Hongjoong's voice as he shouted my name. A few blind minutes passed, and not knowing what was happening, I slowly opened my eyes, I heard movements from where Hongjoong was tied. Dim light hit my eyes, and my head was aching like hell, as I tried to sit up. I saw black figures, but they were more, they were fighting with each other. I suddenly saw a black figure running towards me.

"Hey, sugar, look at me!" I heard Hongjoong's voice wanting to obey to him, but I couldn't. He cupped my face, as I sat up.

"Look at me beautiful, please." I tried to focus on him, he was a blur for a moment, but as I watched him more, blinking a few times, my view started to get clearer, his face being so close to mine, I saw the bruises and little cuts on his face, that made me scream at the world, his eyes were full with concern, as he couldn't lose his long-searched treasure, ever.

"I'm here." I reached my hand to his hands that were on my face. I closed my eyes, as I was leaning into his touch more and more, never wanting to get away from him.

"Thank God." He slowly leaned to my temple and pecked the, now dried, bloody wound.

"Fuck, Y/N, are you okay?" I heard Yeosang's voice.

I looked up at him, and he was leaning on his knees trying to catch his breath.

I started to get emotional, I wanted to cry, as to how grateful I was to him. My eyes started to fill with tears, as I tried to stand up. Hongjoong helped me up, his hands never leaving my waist.

"Yeah, I'm okay, Yeo. Thank you so much for helping us." Tears escaped my eyes, as I hugged him.

"It's nothing, Y/N, I'm glad you are okay." I heard as his voice got weaker too.

I separated from him, looking at Hongjoong, who stepped next to me with his hands immediately on my waist.

"What happened with them?" They weren't here so I thought they were able to catch them.

"We caught one guy, but the rest escaped." Hongjoong ran his fingers through his hair, stressed.

"Fuck, where's Yunho?" I asked when I heard a familiar voice from the exit.

"What the fuck happened?" Yunho ran to us, as the room was now empty, the strange people, who helped us disappeared. Yunho saw my face and grabbed my jaw. "Fuck, why are you here? Did they hurt you?" He looked concerned, his eyes tired, seeming he hadn't been sleeping well recently.

"They attacked me, while I was practicing. Y/N got here later and called help." Hongjoong, reached his hands towards Yunho's, taking off Yunho’s hands of me.

Yunho grabbed his hair. "Fucking shit, who did you call?" He looked at me.

"The number that was on your desk. Actually, Yeosang called it, as I wasn't home. He helped us." I looked at Yeosang gratefully. He came closer to me, reaching his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it, signaling he was by my side. "Who they were?" I turned towards Yunho again.

"Good, they are some friends of Dad, they told me to call them if I get into trouble," Yunho said, sounding a bit more relieved.

"Will you tell me, what is this shit finally, Yunho?" I looked at him, feeling sick of the continuous lying.

He brushed his palms to his face. "I guess it's time. We'll come back in a few, wait for us, please." Yunho said to Hongjoong and Yeosang.

Yunho walked towards the backroom, and I followed him, looking at Hongjoong before I turned away, he nodded encouraging me that everything was going to be alright.

Yunho closed the door, behind me. His face was a little strange, as he looked around. I sat on a little bench pushed to the wall.

"Don't— Don't sit there." He said with a sudden voice. I looked at him with questioning eyes. "What the fuck?" I raised my brows at him.

"Exactly that, just sit somewhere else." He said, trying to avoid my gaze.

"Holy shit." I stood up immediately as my brain was catching on, with the little information I was given. "Oh my God, disgusting, Yunho." I looked at him gasping.

"Shut up!" He still couldn't look into my eyes; his cheeks were blushing.

"Okay, I want to know who is it." I looked at him curiously, folding my arms.

"It's uh—" He scratched his head, being nervous. "It's Mingi." He said looking at me finally.

I gasped. "Oh. My. God." I pressed my hands to my mouth, hiding my smile.

"What?" Yunho looked at me, trying to figure out what was my opinion on that.

"Finally, bro, I always saw the connection between you two, are you kidding, it was a matter of time before you two got married." I smiled at him, feeling relieved that it was Mingi, who had been his best friend for eternity, they were always inseparable and they supported each other all the time. I wasn't blind, it was obvious they were destined to each other, so I was very happy, that they could finally step that little best friend boundary over.

"Really? Was it that obvious?" He asked a smile appearing on his face, as he felt relieved.

"Kind of." I smiled at him, stepping closer to him. "I'm happy for you, Yu."

"Thank you, means a lot." He spread his arms, inviting me to a hug. I stepped closer to him, burying my head into his warm chest. It felt so good to finally hug him after a while. Recently he was so distant with me, that our connection got weaker since our father died. I felt whole again, as a puzzle got into its place again. One still missing.

"So, are you going to tell me, what's this?" I stepped out from his warm hands. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "Yes, sit down, please. Here." He pointed at a chair. As I chuckled.

He sat in the chair opposite me. "Am, where should I start?" He started to think.

"So, you know, Dad got into a gang, not much after Mom died. He was overwhelmed, he couldn’t handle the grief, he lost his job, so he needed money. The solution was stepping into this gang, that did some illegal shit, but they made a lot of money, so I guess it was worth it. Just until Dad, got some common sense, and tried to prevent them from doing whatever they did. He stepped up against them and gathered some of his friends so they can stop those fuckers. At first, it seemed like they stopped; they were quiet for a while. And that was when they took Hongjoong and him. And you know the rest, Hongjoong told me, he already told you what happened.” He looked at me a little disappointed like he knew how much I hurt Hongjoong. “After Dad died…I was restless, I needed to find them, Hongjoong was full of rage too, so we stepped into that gang. We tried to blend in so we could bomb them from the inside, playing with their minds. But somehow, they found out who I was, maybe they overheard us, or they started to become suspicious, I don't know, but that's when they started to attack, you, Hongjoong, and…they even followed Mingi, Y/N." His voice cracked. "I was so scared, they might hurt him, still am, I don't know what would I do without him, I— I think I'd die, it hurts to think of that, I might lose him because I'm dumb and I can't fucking fight off a shit gang." He was mad at himself, for not being able to protect his loved ones.

I looked at him concerned, tears appearing in my eyes, I had never seen Yunho this vulnerable ever, it hurt, it hurt because he was like my other half, I didn't want to see him like this, ever. I stood up stepping closer to him, reaching my hands to cup his face, wiping down his tears. I would burn the whole world for him, I didn’t want to see him like this. Suddenly I understood why was he protecting me like this, like I was a bird in a cage— because…I would've done the same thing, I would've protected him at all costs.

"It's okay, he is fine, we are fine, and everything is going to be okay Yu." I tried to comfort him.

He held my hands, that cupped his face. "We need to, catch them, we need to end this once and for all." He said as he got his strength back, fire lighting up in his eyes.

"We will, those bastards need to get what they deserve," I said revenge starting to boil my blood.  

"They will, I'll make sure of that. But you need to stay here." Yunho said, ready to fight with me again.

I looked at him furiously. "You can't do this, Yunho."

"Look." He grabbed my hands and stood up. "Someone needs to be home, if they are coming again, Yeosang will be here, and Mingi as well, for a while. We don't know where they are, their base could be anywhere, we will get it out from the guy we caught. We won't let them run anymore." He explained the plan, he looked so determined, as he wouldn't rest until those bastards were out of the way.

I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling stressed. "I have a bad feeling about this, Yunho. Let's find another solution, there has to be." I looked at him concerned.

"There is no other solution, Y/N, we have to do this." He was restless. So, I had no other choice than to agree.

"Shit, okay. But please, please be careful." My voice came out weak.

"We will, I promise." He embraced me again, in his warm hands.

"Hongjoong has to go too?" I suddenly asked, my heart beating fast, suddenly on the thought.

"If he wants, I won't force him to." He looked at me, curious.

"What's between you two?" He asked frowning.

"Nothing- at least— I don't know, I haven't been able to talk to him," I said honestly, looking down at the floor, now I was the one avoiding Yunho's gaze.

"You should talk to him," Yunho said, as I quickly lifted my head. I thought he was going to be mad, hearing there's something between us.

"What? Aren't you mad?" I asked as my voice sounded surprised.

"No, of course, I am not. I'm actually glad, you got someone like Hongjoong. I saw how he looked at you like you were his everything, he was just scared to step over the boundaries because of me. I know he can be there for you and he can protect you when I'm not there. I'm sorry, that you felt you had no one in the past, I was blinded by revenge I didn't see that you were struggling as well." He admitted, his voice getting sadder.

I didn't say anything, as I was just looking down on my hands, playing with my ring.

"Go rest a bit, because I know you haven't slept in a while, then talk to him. You deserve to clear things out between the two of you." He hugged me again, strongly nearly breaking my bones.

"Okay, okay now let me go," I mumbled into his chest.

We laughed together, and finally, I felt at ease, I felt like a big rock fell off of my chest, and as we finally put the pieces together, everything was in its place, and our relationship with Yunho finally started to heal again.

We were on our way out of the club, and Hongjoong was walking next to me, as he looked at me with a thinking face.

"What?" I looked at him frowning.

"Is that my hoodie?" He asked with the sweetest smile.

"Ahm— no?" I scratched my neck, I felt nervous, little red started to appear on my cheeks.

"It is mine, I know it, I was searching for it for ages. I gave up on finding it, and you had it the whole time?" He was laughing now, he looked sincerely happy.

"Okay, okay, I stole it, but you left it on the couch and it was there for weeks. I thought you don't need it anymore." I smiled at him, I was blushing so hard, that I couldn't look into his eyes.

“You can keep it, looks good on you.” He leaned close to my ear and pecked the skin under my ear.

I chuckled as we reached my car and I turned towards him. "Meet you at home."

He looked at me so adoringly that I felt like I needed to hug him so bad. He nodded, as I opened the door to sit in. On my way home, I smiled the whole time. I couldn't wait until we could finally talk. But first I needed to sleep because I felt like I am going to collapse at any moment.

Hongjoong and Yunho were already home when I arrived there. I stepped inside and they were sitting at the kitchen counter. Yunho saw me and stood up.

"Okay, I think I'm going to check on Mingi, see you later guys." He winked at me and went upstairs.

Hongjoong looked at me, checking me out with warm eyes.

"Go sleep, sugar, it was a tough day." He said while he sipped from his coffee, not taking his eyes off of me.

"Okay." I went to the stairs but suddenly froze. I looked back at him, as he looked at me with questioning eyes. "Do you want to— sleep with me?" I asked feeling a little shy. Where was the confident me, who literally got him to kiss me?! It was just sleeping, c'mon.

He smiled at me with his teeth showing. "Do you want me to sleep with you?" He stood up and came towards me.

I nodded. He held my hand and leaned close to my face. "Okay, sugar." He gave me a warm peck on my left cheek. I felt weak in his presence, it was intimidating.

We went up to my room, still holding hands, and I finally collapsed to my bad, releasing his hands. He went to the other side of the bed, as I slipped under the warm blanket. I was laying on my left side and he was facing me on his right side as he slipped under the blanket too. I moved closer to him; he held my waist caringly pulling me closer to him. I looked at him, but my eyes couldn't focus anymore as my eyelids slowly closed.

"I'm sorry, Joong." I mumbled while I was already half asleep.

"It's okay, sugar, I’m so proud of you, you did so well today." He whispered; his voice sweet like honey. I felt his face closer to me, as he pecked my nose, then my temple, my cheek, and lastly my lips as it lured me to dreamland, I felt safe in his arms, and I never wanted to depart from him. He became my comfort zone all of a sudden.

≫Your arms hugging me around like a chain

A chain that melts into warm honey≪

-Previous Part- Next Part>

A/N: (also you can find out more about Yungi in my bestie's, @bvidzsoo, background story on AO3. I recommend it!!)

[hoeforhao]

Most Ardently // Wonwoo Fic //

✧. pairing: professor!wonwoo × student fem!reader (featuring mingyu and dino)

✧. genre: fluff, mild angst? very short smut(as i wanted to keep this as a pure emotional fic) minors dni, lots of pining and comfort at the end.

✧. warnings: nothing heavy, just a very slow burning romance based around my favorite novel, slight mentions of a yandere ex boyfriend,use of swear words, joking use of the word k!ll.

✧. synopsis: what happens when your one night stand becomes your new literature professor, taking both of you down a blissful lane of old school love.

✧. word count: 3.2k (approx)

✧.banner credits: to the sweetest @classicscreations

✧. author's note: as wonwoo fluff+smut won in the 50 followers poll, here it is finally. although it became more of an angsty fluff(i absolutely suck at writing puppy romance). hope y'all will enjoy it and if this gets some love, i'll bring out its prequel. last but not the least, if you enjoyed my writing then...

Likes, comments and reblogs will be heartily appreciated ♡

and on page 157 she fell in love...

"Love"~ a word meaningful only between the withered folds of literature, luring one into the Georgian haze.Realistically tho, finding a love that will entwine both soul and mind, seep through your cracks and reconcile the cores, is as strange as a diffident person like you getting raveled into a one night stand.

Quite literally clawing out your scalp, ensuring the inevitable headache later on, you kept on asking yourself, what made you so wild to sleep with a random ass stranger, that too on the night before fall semester started??!!!! The guilt clouded your mind so much so that the trance had to be broken by mingyu's hard slap on your shoulder.

"Are you dead or what idiot? The new professor's been here for over a minute now and called out your name almost seventeen times" the tall idiot sitting beside you, nearly howled into your ears.

Before the count could hit eighteen, you quickly pried up from your seat, taking a glance at the man standing in the teacher's place.

Why does his face look so familiar? That same hairstyle with heart shaped strands sticking to the forehead, those harry pottery glasses overshadowing the cat eyes, his exact little stubby nose and most importantly the bewitching plump dahlia lips.

No way it's who I think it is!!! It's definitely the hangover towering. How can he be -

"Ms y/n?"a soft hushed voice called out, pulling your train of thoughts to a sudden halt,"Mr Bennett handed over your thesis to me before he left." Only a single nod left your body as you took over the file and made your way back to the place beside the giant sized puppy,body completely washed off by an unknown tingling sensation.

"Morning students!! I'm your new literature professor from now,Jeon Wonwoo. Mr Bennett's knowledge and aura are indeed irreplaceable but still I'll try my best to bring out the beauty of literature to you guys." the man spoke, eyes a bit tensed up yet briming with a certain sort of joy.

Throughout the entire lesson, your beads were fixated onto your teacher ; as a person who would never let their focus sway, specially in literature classes, you now didn't even know what chapter the class was going through.

"Looks like someone is enchanted huh" your annoying ass bestfriend pushes you a little from the back as the entire class gets ready to head out for lunch.

"Y/n?" you hear the same raspy voice seek out your name. "Go go! Your prince is calling you!!" mingyu teases you again with a mocking smile on his face.

"Utter a single word after this, and I'll make sure you walk reverse footed the entire week" you stomp on his feet before turning around to listen to what your teacher had to ask.

"Yes sir?" you coo out softly, trying to make your racing heart less obvious.

"Meet me at my office after lunch. We need to discuss on your thesis."

"But I already submitted it to Mr Bennett once,then why again?"

"He ran short of time,while packing things up and couldn't scrutinize the papers properly, so now I'm in charge." jeon said as politely as possible.

"Okay sir. I'll be there in an hour"

"You can call me wonwoo" a light smile painted the older's face as he made your cheeks flush bright red with the comment.

Swirling around on your heels, you swiftly made your way out the room, not wanting to flash him with your blushing profile.

Stomping your feet in impatience and somewhat a little bit of anxiety, you wait for your beanstalk of a best friend to choose his drink from the vending machine.

"You're not choosing a wife Kim Mingyu. Hurry the fuxk up pls"

"Getting that worked up for a four eyed nerd! What a loser!!" mingyu spat out, while he bended down to collect his can.

"Says the one who has been bitchless since the cracking dawn of civilization. Oh wait you need to have human traits to get a partner, not that of chimpanzees" you spank his butt from absolute annoyance.

With a loud 'ouch' and his characteristic puppy eyes, mingyu rises up from his position and hurriedly drops you off at wonwoo's office door, otherwise who knows what more parts of him you'll break.

Cold sweats dripping down your face, you stand still at his door, an unfamiliar feeling shivering down your spine as you slowly bring up your hands to knock on the knob.

"M-may I come in sir?" why is it that you're shaking so much, is strange to you too. You haven't ever felt like this,not even when you met your bitchass ex for the first time.

"What are you doing to me jeon wonwoo" you whisper under your breath before stepping into the gloomy wooden space,following the green light from him.

Sitting yourself comfortably on the swiveling chair infront of his desk, you wait for wonwoo to speak up, legs shaking uncontrollably beneath the stilted plank.

"Welcome y/n. As far as I'm knowledged, your thesis is on Georgian Era pieces, and you've chosen Pride and Prejudice as your muse right?"

You just hmm in response, words refusing to leave your body, as you feel drugged by his honey voice.

"Let's get you started then" his eyes sparkling like fireworks.

Completely engrossed into your work, you almost became unaware of wonwoo's presence in the same room as you, posture quite stable now; oblivious of how quickly that composure is gonna get washed off of your body.

"Si-" picking up your head from the paper, you tried to call out his name as you needed some help with the summary, only to feel a hot breath fanning on your neck, his soft nose brushing againt your skin, as he stretches out his hand to the book infront of you.

"How many times have i told you to call me wonwoo, huh berrybub" the older's voice wooed into your system,his other hand gently tucking in the lose strands behind your ears.

"W-wonwoo can you r-read out this verse to me pls? I can't make out few parts of it" you were yourself astonished at how stable you sounded, completely ignorant of the shiver running down your spine.

"Anything for you y/n" wonwoo spoke out again,his wet lips lightly grazing against your cheeks, as he pulled the book into his hands and took his place back on the chair.

The rest of the session was as quite as a viva room, with him occasionally stealing glances at you, while you kept your eyes fixed onto the table.

An entire week went by like this, where wonwoo would read out the piece to you as you wrote your papers, with a regular comment of "if you keep staring at me like that y/n, then I fear we would be able to submit your work in time" from him. But that one suspicion refused to leave your mind no matter how much you tried.

Strolling down the hallway like a happy puppy, forgetful of all the worries with this newfound feeling of warmth and butterflies, you made your way towards the restroom, when suddenly a hand pulled you back into a dark corner.

"C-chan! What are you doing!" looking up at who this man was, you started feeling heavy in the head almost instantly, chest heaving up and down at the rate of a storm . It was no other than your yandere ex boyfriend, who cheated on you with your cousin sister!!!!

"Missed me princess?" his hands roaming all over your body as he pinned you down to the wall, a dirty feeling gushing over your entire body.

"It's over between us Chan. You knew that I would forgive anything but cheating. And you did the exact same thing. That too with Angie? Pathetic!!!" tears building up in your eyes as you try to sound as confident as possible. "And moreover, I don't think I have feelings for you anymore. Maybe it was never even love"

"Oh such a naive girl you are! You really think i give a shit about your feelings and all?" a devilish grin flashing on his face as Chan brings his lips closer to yours, hands gripping onto your waist tightly.

Your body was starting to give up, tears continously streaming down your face as you kept on praying for him to stop. But this is the 21st century, and God only helps those who help themselves. Coring up all the strength left in your body, you brought up your legs and karate kicked him on his groin.

A painful whimper left Chan's lips as he held onto his throbbing manhood, while you took this chance to run away from his grasp.

Running down the corridors, that now seemed to be endless, with his voice echoing through the walls "I'll not let you go off that easily bitch. Come back here", you tightly shut your eyes closed, desperately waiting for someone to save you from this nightmare.

And looks like the heavens finally listened to your helpless pleas as you felt a pair of bulky arms wrapping around your body like a warm blanket, pulling you into a bleak rim. Both9f your frames sandwiched against each other, hearts beating in unison, as your trembling body was now being warmed with the heat radiating off of you two.

You slowly look up at the man who saved you from that lunatic ex of yours; not like you already didn't recognize him from the strong scent of his cologne. Yes, you were unconsciously so in love with this boy, that you even remembered his smell.

As soon as your eyes met with wonwoo's, the first thing you noticed was some sort of burning rage in him, a fire powerful enough to burn down an entire forest in just a matter of few seconds.

"Wonw-" he didn't even let you finish your sentence before pulling you into the tightest hug, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he mouthed "I'll make sure to destroy anyone who dares to stain this blissful face of yours with teardrops, to lay even a single finger on your body", with an unreadable tone of anger yet sadness.

You hugged him back as tight not knowing what to say, completely taken aback by this sudden comment. Losing consciousness of what just happened with you just few moments back, you two kept on bear hugging each other as if it was the last day the Earth's gonna revolve 'round the sun, with wonwoo being the first to let go.

"I-i am sorry" that's the last thing you heard from him before he left you standing so empty in the dark, mind clouded with a bunch of unanswered questions.

"How can he leave like nothing happened, after what he did that day?" is the only thing that kept eating you out for the next few days, as you kept attending your college, both of you never crossing paths since the incident. Wonwoo didn't even show up to the classes, which surely was of no help to your intense craving. But you were highly stubborn yourself ; if he could ignore those close moments between you both so easily, you could too.

Another strange thing that bugged you was that Chan was never seen in the college campus after that day, ever again. Even his classmates failed to contact him anymore!!!

Throwing away these negative thoughts outta your head, you were strolling down the gallery, all ready to go back home as you suddenly took a halt before wonwoo's office. It was open and left unattended. You don't know what took over you and you entered the same place that gave you so many warm memories. With a silent sigh and sullen face, you carefully inspected the interiors, running your fingers along the places that were stained with his scent.

"Y/n?" the voice your ears have been longing for all these days, disrupted your probe midway. Turning around, your eyes immediately landed onto the figure standing at the door, the one your heart now beats for; at that moment all you wanted was to run to him, pull him into the warmest embrace and never let go.

But your self respect and self doubt was chaining you down, as you lifted up your feet slowly to leave the room, head hanging down low. "Sorry won- I mean sir. Sorry for intervening into your space. I'll be taking my leave"

"Don't! pls!" a muffled voice echoed around the room"W-we need to finish your project. I don't want you to fail because of me."

"It's okay sir. I can do it by myself. Thanks for all you've done for me till now" you blurt out quite sternly, with a hint of underlying taunt.

"P-pls" a sudden change of tone was evident in wonwoo's voice, as if he was on the verge of crying, which was enough to melt your composure. I mean who would want to see their loved ones cry because of them right?!

He guided you to your seat as he swiveled his own towards yours and sat right in front of you,with just a few inches gap between the two.

With a drooped down head, wonwoo pulled out the book from his drawer and took out a kitten shaped bookmark from the last done page. You lightly chuckled at the older's choice of stationary, while bringing out your thesis file.

"Let's start. Only some part is left" eyes still not daring to look at you , he started reading out the last few chapters of the piece, while keeping his gaze fixed between the folds.

Turning the pages to the one marked 157, wonwoo's voice came to a stall, slowly picking up his head from the book,his feline beads finally landed onto yours, hazed by a soft yet painful daze. Wonwoo soon started to read out again, but this time instead of looking at the book, he was looking at you, with a mixed expression of agony blended with intense pining.

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Even though your mind wanted to go by the reason that it was just a line from the novel, your heart exactly knew what he meant. You wanted to let him know how much you loved him too, how much your soul craved for his, how long you've waited for this one moment....but you couldn't! A strange feeling of unjust kept you from running to his arms at that instant; so instead you got up from your chair and twirled around to leave the room as quickly as possible.

"Pls y/n pls don't leave me. Again!" two pair of arms wrapped around your waist tightly, immediately stopping you on your track. "You don't know how happy I was when I got to see you again that morning. I couldn't sleep for nights as i kept on squealing thinking about your smile lit face.You came into my life as the brightest ray when I lost all hope. Pls don't push me into the dark again."

Your heart clenched at the sound of soft sobs coming from your back, as you swiftly turned on your heels, only to be a met with a teary eyed wonwoo.

"I-it was you that night wonwoo?"drops now threatening to slide down your eyes. "They say the heart knows it all. No wonder why it always kept telling me that it was you" you said while wiping off the tears of his pale face.

"I've wanted to have you by my side since the moment you held my hand and pulled me into that hotel" closing the gap between you two as he softly placed his lips on yours ; pulling both being into a soft yet passionate kiss as you reverted back to him with equal thirst.

Grip never leaving your waist, he finally lets go of your lips, as you two gasped for some air, face all stained with fresh hot tears. Not long after, he attacks your face again, but this time painting it with affectionate sloppy kisses all over, as if a lost kitten found their home after days. He couldn't get enough of your body, as his wet lips gradually started going down your jaw and landing onto your shoulder, imprinting his teeth onto them.

Wonwoo gave a small tap on your legs and getting his intentions straight away, you quickly wrapped your legs around his torso, as he carried you towards the couch, unbuttoning your shirt in the mean time.

After he placed you onto the couch gently, sliding a cushion under your head, he carefully positioned himself on top of you.

"Can I?" soon afterward you gave him an assuring nod, wonwoo dived into your body, ripping off the white satin shirt of you, as he started placing wet sloppy kisses onto your chest. Fingers roaming around your clothed nipple, he swiftly freed your breasts off your bra and devoured them into his mouth ; earning soft alluring moans from you that were ringing like music to his ears.

Following a good thirty minutes of ravishing and worshiping your body, wonwoo finally plopped down on the couch, embracing you from behind as he pulled the covers over your bodies [do not ask me how a couch had covers pls]

"If you want you can leave me later, but please let's stay like this for some time" a whimper left his lips as he tightened the grasp around your belly.

Turning around to face him, you cupped his face onto your hands, rubbing your fingers onto his squishy cheeks as you softly assured, "Woo, I was smitten by you the exact day you came into our class. Maybe I couldn't properly recognize your face because of the alcohol, but my heart started longing for you since then. You have no idea on how hard I've tried not to fall, but look at me, I'm now head over heels for you. So don't even think about me leaving you, you dumbo. Neither are you allowed to leave, understood Mr!!" you flooff up your nostrils trying to imitate an angry puppy, earning the biggest flash of sunshine smile from bigger flooff beside you.

my darling,

you would never be unloved by me

you're too well tangled in my soul

finishing off your night with such a beautiful verse, you both drift off to deep slumber, entangled into each other's spirits.

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 6

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: a lot of jerking off WC: 8.4k AN: thank you all for your patience!! i started grad school so i got a bit busy, but now i will update about once a week! thank you all for the love :) also i am so sorry about all the angst

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7

Chapter 6: Tearing

The afternoon sun filtered through his window shade and cast his room in its warm glow, but Anakin was too busy with his notes on his desk to notice. He needed something to do with his hands, just to keep himself focused, to keep his thoughts from wandering to you. To answer a practice problem, he was trying to find a specific case of heat diffusion the class had discussed--somewhere in October, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure. His desk was already messy before he began studying, but he was making it even worse with a paper thrown here, a staple there.

His eyes scanned the paper this way and that, trying to absorb any iota of information, but the words were slippery, wily things that wriggled out of his grasp. In the end, it turned out he had flipped past the page several times without seeing what he needed, and he finally found it on his fifth pass. Subconsciously, he dug his nails into his palms in frustration. Why couldn't he work? Why were you doing this to him?

His phone chimed, a text from his mom. Hey, how are finals? Doing okay?

For a few days, he'd been ducking questions about whether he was sleeping or eating enough, because he knew she'd be disappointed with his answers. He was running out of ways to change the subject in phone calls, and he knew she was catching on. Anakin decided he should probably respond.

yeah, really stressed about one of them, rest are fine. thesis going ok.

A second later, his phone lit up again.

Good luck. I'm so proud of you, Anakin, no matter what. As soon as he read it, he dropped his head into his hands. His forehead was clammy under his fingers. Of course she was proud of him unconditionally. He knew that. But he knew that he would be even prouder if he won. If he got a 4.0 this semester. Once, after he said something like that to Ahsoka, she looked at him with that knowing expression only she could produce, and asked him if his mom had ever said anything like that. Technically, no, he conceded, but he couldn't let her down.

He just felt so stupid right now, looking at the pages blanketing his desk. He'd been sitting over them for too long, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and stretch or take a break. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, really, let alone focus. So he was trapped. All he could do was just sit there, drink his Red Bull, and kind of review until he could destroy this exam next week.

Anakin decided to try another practice problem. Maybe that would make it click.

The surface tension of liquid argon is given by--

His phone buzzed against the desk. Putting it on loud was a bad idea, and he knew it. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. It was probably his mom, saying something else. Or, he hoped as his heart jumped, maybe you were coming from the lab early and wanted to meet and study. Or hook up. Or just talk. Whatever, as long as it didn't involve his textbook. His phone buzzed again. And again.

He gave in and opened it. It was you, he found, and he grinned like a lunatic, but caught himself. Then again, he was alone, so it didn't matter, really.

But then he read your texts.

Where are you We need to talk Now

He typed back immediately, his fingers flying faster than he thought they could.

in my room is everything ok?

He looked at the screen, saw the bubbles pop up that meant you were typing, then watched as they disappeared. Anakin was frozen, his phone in his hand. We need to talk could just have been a poor phrasing on your part, right? It didn't mean what he thought it did, right? He could deny it only for about five more seconds, when the little bubbles didn't return.

Fuck. Anakin let loose a string of curses and dropped his phone on his desk. He couldn't think of a single thing that would warrant ending… whatever the two of you had. But maybe you'd realized that he was doing a lot more than what fuckbuddies (fuckenemies?) should do, that he was an absolute wreck for you, and had been for a long time.

The caffeine was getting to him, and his leg was bouncing so quickly that he swore his downstairs neighbor would submit a noise complaint. His mind started racing with all the things he never would have told you, the things that would go unsaid if you ended what the two of you were doing. He'd never tell you that he had two dogs growing up, strays, or that his least favorite flavor of Skittles was orange. He'd never tell you that he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way about anyone, ever, and that he had laid awake for the past two nights thinking about how, if at all, he would tell you.

Ahsoka's voice echoed in his ears, wisps of sound urging him to just say something. His mind was racing, a million trains of thought all colliding at once. He should just tell you. He'd never learn your favorite kind of cereal. He hadn't responded to his mom, fuck. He regretted having that Red Bull. He'd never tell you that he called you baby during sex because he wanted to say it other times, too. The answer to that thermo question was probably 36 Joules. He'd never tell you that if you called him a pet name he'd melt and let you win any competition because nothing would matter anymore.

But that was precisely why he hadn't told you how he felt. Because if you felt the same way about him, that would be so much better than any amount of money or award. And that wasn't the kind of person he could be.

He'd spent so long training to control that wild hurricane of emotions that pulled him through everyday life. Anakin channeled it into perfectly neat parallelized circuits and technically exquisite poomsae, but around you it all let loose, angry and passionate and just so much.

It was terrifying. You were terrifying. And there was a selfish part of him that said that he deserved to let all those feelings loose for once. To feel as much as he wanted to feel because, goddammit, he was so tired of control.

But Anakin was a lot. A handful, his teachers always said. It was what ended his previous relationship, what drove Padme away. Would it drive you away, too?

If you walked up to him in two minutes and asked him what the two of you were, if it was just casual or something more, would he have the self-control not to blurt out exactly what he was thinking? His stomach flipped at the idea of you leaving the room, leaving his life, without knowing how he felt.

You walking away from him and disappearing into another part of the country after graduation would kill him. He was pretty sure that seeing you at a reunion in five years with someone on your arm, some beautiful person who you had never hated, would smite him on the spot.

He imagined himself six months from now, when the thesis was over. What would that Anakin want for himself? Would he let himself say something? Fuck it all, he would say. And he was right.

If you were going to end things, he was going to get this off his chest. He had to. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.

The sound of knuckles on wood cut through the silent room like a dagger through his heart. One, two, three seconds passed as he sat in his desk chair, mind totally blank. He tried to produce a coherent feeling or, if he was lucky, an entire thought, but he came up empty.

Before, it was all something nebulous, something he could just worry about. Something he could stress about. Now, it was real. You were behind that door, and you needed to talk. And there was no escaping that. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to the door.

Anakin pretended not to notice that his hand was shaking when he wrapped it around the doorknob.

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The bus ride back to your dorm had been uneventful, other than the way you were staring daggers into the skull of some poor guy in front of you. He had the good sense to not turn around.

Anakin Skywalker is a thief. You clenched your fists, and you could barely feel the sting of your nails in your palms. Barriss wasn't one to lie, based on the past three years you'd spent with her. She told you the facts right after: she overheard one of the graduate students--probably Obi-Wan, but she didn't know who, just some vaguely hot older guy, she said--telling Anakin his idea for a thesis. And then Anakin ran with it.

If she was right, that changed everything. If Anakin really didn't come up with his own idea, that meant he had rigged the competition. He had a leg up this whole time. He really was exactly what you had thought for years. The golden boy of the department who had everything handed to him. And while you'd labored over choosing the perfect, most viable but impressive idea, he had just skipped right over that step. You'd cried over how hard it was to find a good idea, struggled for weeks on end last year, just trying to make something good, let alone great. And he was already weeks ahead of you in the competition.

All of his sweet gestures--staying with you in bed, holding hands in the library, getting you drinks--were suddenly less sweet. Last year, he was in the thesis lab with you, when he was working on his proposal, watching you go through ideas and get upset when they didn't work, and he knew that. And he never told you about where his idea came from, even when you were getting closer. He probably knew it would piss you off, and he still didn't tell you. He'd hidden it from you.

You didn't know if that hurt more or less than the unfairness of his advantage.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of your dorm, and you hopped off, then dashed to the elevator.

You just wanted him to tell you that Barriss was crazy, or misheard. Or anything. Anything to make it not true.

The elevator ride was agony as it whizzed up to his floor.

At his door, you hesitated. If you entered and fought, that made this real. So, so real. The second you walked through that door, everything between the two of you might change.

But you were too furious not to knock. Silence hung for a few seconds before you could hear the door unlock.

Anakin opened it to you, looking unfairly hot. Rage ripped through you as he looked at you with open affection, gesturing to enter his room, like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't lying to you all this time. You stormed in quickly.

"Anakin, I need you to be honest with me." Your voice came out tighter than you wanted as you searched his face for a reaction. He closed the door, then came to stand in front of you.

"I'm always honest with you," Anakin replied earnestly, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he forced a small smile.

You didn't smile back. "How did you come up with the idea for your project?"

"What?" Anakin blinked, caught off guard. He let out a breathy chuckle. "That--that's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Well?" You pressed, crossing your arms. The edge in your voice was obvious, cutting. You could see Anakin go through the stages of realizing what you might mean, and your stomach started to sink even deeper.

Anakin sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I--Really? Okay, fine. There aren't currently any microsurgery tools that mimic human hands. They're all pincers. So I wanted to make one." Your gaze narrowed.

"And you're saying Obi-Wan had nothing to do with it?"

"What are you talking about?" It was probably supposed to sound confused, but it came out more scared. You knew him well enough to tell. God, he was infuriating.

"Did you or did you not get your idea from Obi-Wan?" The words came out like tiny daggers, sharpened steel that you spat at him. His face fell, and you could see the moment that he knew you knew.

"Look, it's not like that," Anakin said, his arms falling to his sides. His eyes were suddenly avoiding yours, like his desk suddenly contained some information he desperately needed, or, preferably an escape hatch.

"Then what is it like?" You shot back, your heart racing. You stepped closer, trying to find an answer in his furrowed eyebrows. "Why can't you just say no?"

Anakin's jaw clenched, and he was obviously searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't piss you off, probably. "Because Obi-Wan helped, I guess."

"You guess?!" Your voice cracked, incredulous.

"I mean--look." Anakin raised his hands defensively. "Sure, Obi-Wan put me on the path to it. But every second in the lab since then has been me. My design, my coding."

"What do you mean put you on the path? You mean he gave you the idea, don't you?" Your frustration with him was boiling over. Even now, he was defending himself, trying to evade this. Justifying. It drove you crazy.

Anakin hesitated, his words faltering. "I--It's not--"

"Are you seriously about to say that it's not that simple or something?" You interrupted, your voice shaking. You threw your hands up, your fury finally reaching its peak. "Because, from here, it looks simple. Like you stole your whole fucking thesis idea!"

"That's not true!" Anakin snapped, his voice louder now. It wasn't the same kind of anger you were used to seeing from him, it was defensive, almost panicked. "Obi-Wan, he just, he suggested I look at applying an old project of mine to microsurgery. And he was right. So, I guess, technically, if you're looking at it like that--sure. He gave me the idea."

You stared at him, his words sinking in. His admission hung between you like a guillotine, its rope finally snapped. The air felt tight, like you were ten thousand miles above sea level and there wasn't enough oxygen to keep you afloat.

Anakin shifted again, his anger gone, his voice softer, pleading. "It's like… I don't know. I guess I feel guilty about it. But I really needed to submit something that day, or I couldn't enter into the competition at all. It was the rules. If I don't do a thesis… I--I don't know. I just had to. And I figured I'd just use that temporarily, and pivot as soon as it was approved, It was in the end of junior spring, and I just couldn't find a topic that worked. That idea I had about hand prosthetics didn't pan out, and I was telling Obi-Wan about it in the lab, and he told me I should look at microsurgery, 'cause they have a lot of the same issues--calibrating movement to user input, holding up to wear and tear, dealing with friction and joint movement--and that I should do my thesis on it."

His eyes finally met yours again, so deep and blue that it almost made you reconsider. Almost. He was pleading, begging you to understand. "So, yeah, I submitted an early version of the idea Obi-Wan gave me. But every second of design, build, everything was me. It's my work."

You stood frozen, silent. After a few long beats, Anakin started to fidget, his hands wringing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"If I could go back, I'd do something else. Anything else." Anakin's voice wavered, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I just--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to submit something, anything. I need to win this," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The anguish over being proven right was something you didn't expect. You should have felt vindicated, that you were actually right all along about him. You should have hated him. But instead, you could feel your heart breaking, like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped over and lifeless. If he had just admitted it to you himself, maybe you could get over this. Maybe. But the fact that he hid it from you cut like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes, and your throat was drier than you'd ever felt it. The words fell from your lips softly, like you could barely get them out.

"How could you?" You felt like you'd never known him, like the person in front of you was a stranger. How could he be both this person, and the one who would keep you warm at night?

Anakin noticed the coldness of your gaze, and it gutted him. Anakin's breath caught, and you could see him shatter in real time. His cheek twitched, right under his scar, and you could swear you saw his eyes start to fill with tears. His hands were shaking where they were clasped together, and you were sure he was leaving indents with his nails. His shoulders shook under his panicked breaths.

He didn't speak for several long seconds, his mouth tugging this way and that as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asked as he stepped toward you, trying to seek reassurance to keep him from falling apart. But you couldn't give it. You didn't even know him anymore.

"I--" you opened your mouth, hesitating, before you restarted, "I don't know." Your voice cracked, but you hardened it. "I didn't before, but now I'm not so sure."

Anakin took another step closer, reaching out with his shaking hands as if to touch you, but you backed away. His face flushed even more, hurt and frustration jumping across his features. It made you even more angry. "This is so fucking unfair, and you just--you just let it happen."

He said your name, trying to jump in, but your anger surged, and it drowned him out.

"I spent weeks getting my idea just right." Each words was more brutal than the last. "Weeks. And you got everything spoon-fed to you. Everything I worked for--and you just took it from someone."

Anakin flinched like you had struck him, but you were far from done.

"I thought I knew you, I thought I was wrong about you this whole time," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, "But I was right all along. You're just a fucking cheater."

A tear slipped down the side of his cheek as you continued. Your voice shook as you admitted to him, and to yourself, what the worst part really was. "And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. And that makes you a fucking asshole."

He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he started to speak. "No, please, it's not--"

"Stop it!" You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. Anakin stood frozen, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Your breath rushed through your nose and your pulse beat in your ears. You couldn't even see him anymore through the tears, but you refused to let them fall. To let him see you cry.

He said your name one more time, begging, pleading. For a moment, you were tempted, but the hurt was too big to ignore.

Your voice was cold, distant. "Get away from me," you ordered. Your back was rigid with anger and hurt. "And leave me the fuck alone."

Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

You stalked down the hall as quickly as you could, ignoring the buzzing in your pocket as the tears you were holding back finally poured down your cheeks. You didn't even have the energy to wipe them away, you just let them fall while you punched the button for the elevator.

Only when the door closed, and you pulled out your phone to call Ahsoka, did you see his messages.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

They were all sent minutes apart. You could hear his voice reading them, desperate and thick with tears. Even though you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at him, the idea of him crying still made your chest ache. And then it made you feel vindicated. But then it made you feel horrible again.

You arrived back to the lobby, then crossed the building to the other elevator bank, trying to avoid the awkward gazes the students passing by gave you. You sniffled wetly, wiping away your tears, as you ran up the two flights of steps that brought you to your room. You unlocked the door as quickly as you could, then hid inside.

Your phone buzzed again.

i understand that you don't want to talk, but the second you're ready, i'll be here. i'll always be here.

The words made you sob loudly, and you were thankful for a moment that Ahsoka wasn't home. Until you saw the text, it hadn't hit you that this was the last time you'd talk for a while. You couldn't even remember the last kiss you two had shared. The library? Was that the kiss you wanted this to end on? You'd never see his half-lidded eyes as he worshipped you, never hear him call you baby again.

Why did he have to go and fuck it all up? You asked yourself, sobs wracking your body as you slid down the door. You couldn't tell if you were more sad or angry, but you were definitely heartbroken. Lately, his casual touches, his affection, the way you slept together every night, it was starting to feel like more. But it was all gone now.

You had been numbed with caffeine and stress, but the past week, you felt like you were soaring every time he touched you. Every time he gave you that intense look he always did.

But the two of you were just hooking up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more, and you never thought you'd feel the pull to be with him when you weren't fucking, but it was like gravity. Even now, you wanted him to comfort you. Not someone, but him.

The realization that you had feelings for him hit you like a truck. All the breath was gone from your lungs, gone to some other dimension.

You liked Anakin Skywalker. Even though he was an asshole. Even though he'd hurt you. But those feelings didn't end just because whatever you were had ended, they didn't leave you alone.

You could have been his girlfriend if he hadn't hidden this from you. And that was the last nail in the coffin that made you break down fully.

You sat there, crying, sobbing, wailing, for at least another half hour before you dragged yourself to the shower. It made you feel the tiniest bit better to have your hair clean, your tears scrubbed off your face until the skin went sensitive and ruddy. When the water turned off, it was cold, and you relished the shock to your system.

And then, you started the process of getting over him. You knew you had to do it eventually, and you only had to get through finals before you could go home and forget all about him. Come January, when you next saw him in the lab, it'd be like seeing any other classmate.

That thought was enough to make you start crying again while you stood in the towel you stole from your house. Your tears mingled with the water from the shower, and it was enough to let you pretend that you weren't crying, that becoming strangers with Anakin didn't kill you inside.

You promised yourself that this would be the last time you cried this semester. That night, if you felt the threat of tears, you just threw yourself harder into whatever you were studying. There was nothing else you could do.

At the thermo exam two days later, you walked in later than you usually would for a final that was this important. When you slipped into the class, two minutes before they started passing out test papers, you spotted Anakin in the corner. Because of course you did. Your eyes hadn't stopped finding him in every photo, in every room. He had always been magnetic, and, just because you weren't together anymore didn't mean that stopped. And he was looking right at you.

His gaze ripped through you with some mix of desperation, affection, and sorrow. Anakin looked, in one word, horrible. His eyes were sunken in, red and swollen from crying. Most people would not have noticed, but you knew him too well. His dark circles had come back with a vengeance, like fresh bruises on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. His mouth twitched when he looked at you, like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes followed your path.

Throughout the exam, you could feel his eyes on you a couple of times, but you didn't allow yourself to turn around and look. You let the calm of equations and math wash over you, and soon there was nothing but the test. The questions and the precise way you wrote Greek letters in the blue book lulled you into a state of calm you desperately needed.

When you handed in your exam, you allowed yourself another look at Anakin, and then you left the building. You didn't see him before you went on break two days later.

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Two days before break, he saw you again. He hadn't changed his habits, still studied in the dining hall and had meals there, sometimes went to the library, and he secretly hoped, thrummed with anticipation, that maybe, just maybe, you'd be there too. That maybe you'd see him and realize you wanted to talk it out. That, obviously, did not happen. He spent an embarrassing amount of time awake, because you haunted his dreams whenever they came. The disgusted look on your face and the words I was right all along, you're a fucking asshole echoed in the back of his eyelids and his mind's eye whenever he laid down. So, he stayed up. More time to study, right?

He spent most of those 48 hours trying not to cry and failing miserably. Even when he broke up with Padme, it wasn't like this. He was angry, indignant, and, of course, sad, but it was the kind of sadness that settled deep on his shoulders and dulled the world around him. It wasn't the kind of sadness that wrenched sobs from his chest whenever he wasn't careful. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him regret ever going to this college, ever meeting you.

Ahsoka cast him a funny look at him one night, when he fell asleep in a common room. She gently shook him awake, and noticed the redness rimming his eyes, and the way his hands shook from too much caffeine. She gave him a hug and made him promise to sleep tonight.

He did, and that was the night before the test. Every muscle and joint screamed in protest as he dragged himself from his bed. He arrived fifteen minutes early, just to make sure he got a good seat, and then his head kept swiveling like an owl. Every time the click of the doors opening echoed through the nearly empty lecture hall, he locked onto the person entering. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally given glares to at least four poor souls before you finally entered.

He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably failed the exam right then.

You were even prettier than he remembered, and the depth of your eyes when you stared at him was enough to make him shudder. Even now, he'd give anything to be with you again. When you sat down and didn't look at him again for the next three hours, he felt bits of his heart break off and get trampled under equations about heat diffusion and air pressure. You turned in your test, and then left, and he looked after you longingly. His eyes snapped back to his paper when he got a weird look from the TA.

He turned in his exam paper, rushed home, and promptly passed out on his bed. You came to him in his dreams, of course. Naked in his arms, lips pliant and wanting under him. The way your tongue peeked out when you were too hard at work, or the shimmer of your eyes when he made you laugh. The betrayal on your face. Get away from me.

He spent the rest of finals in a fugue state, doing tasks and exams because he was supposed to. Then, finally, the last one passed, and he was finally released to go home. He hadn't seen you since the exam, and that was probably better for him, he reasoned.

On day 1 of break, Anakin drove the whole day and listened to absolutely depressing music the whole time. He pulled over once and, in a fit of rage, smacked the steering wheel a few times. How could he be so stupid? How was he this much of an idiot? He sat at the rest stop for another fifteen minutes, his sweaty forehead on the steering wheel. Five hours later, when he arrived home late in the evening, he hugged his mom. Everything felt a little bit better after that. He had dinner with Shmi and Cliegg, even though all he wanted to do was lay in bed and sulk. He fell asleep quickly--he was too exhausted to stay up torturing himself with what could have been.

On day 2 of break, he lay in bed and just generally moped around. He could never be still for long, so that meant getting up to eat snacks, flicking through TV shows listlessly, and trying not to look at the texts you two had exchanged. He only cried twice, once at the thought that you'd never meet his mom, and the other at the memory of your body in his arms as he fell asleep. Both reduced him to hot, silent tears.

On day 3 of break, he did yard work and drove by his old dojang to say hi to his high school coach. He ended up agreeing to teach some lessons over break to avoid having to sit at home alone with his thoughts for three entire weeks. Plus, the money was good. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting that thesis prize at all, at this rate. He only cried once, at night, when he thought about having to watch you work in the thesis lab without speaking to you. He wouldn't cross that boundary. You already knew he wanted to talk, and you hadn't texted him back.

On days 4-9, he taught three hours of lessons a day. It was calming, familiar. He only had to splash cold water in his face to avoid getting too upset two or three times per day, but the undercurrent of wondering what you were doing never stopped torturing him. He hadn't touched himself in at least two weeks, and he regularly had to stop his thoughts from drifting away to the last time he was inside you. Every time it happened at home, in bed, he got up and took a cold shower. It served him right. At the end of the week, he went to the mall and bought his mom a Christmas present with the money he earned. Just because he knew his mom wanted to blend their family better, he picked out something small he could afford for Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, too.

On day 10, it was Christmas Eve, so everything was closed. There was nothing to do, so he answered a few emails from Professor Jinn, cleaned the oven, and helped his mom prepare for Christmas dinner. There were files on his device he had prepared specifically to work on his thesis over break, but his project made him nauseous. He'd give it all back for a chance to start over. He'd get a B on his thesis if it would make this pain stop. He didn't touch the files, and, that night, when he finally gave in to the temptation to see if you'd posted anything on social media, he didn't touch his cock, either, even though just an image of you was enough to drive him wild at that point.

On day 11, it was Christmas, and he woke up at 4am in his bed, as hard as a rock. Anakin spent an hour tossing and turning and begging his body to just let him sleep, but, eventually he gave in. It was Christmas, right? He deserved a present. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even try to think of someone else. It was you. It had been for a while. Your little noises as he kissed up your neck, the scrunch of your eyebrows right as you came, and the tight grip of your pussy around him when he buried himself to the hilt inside you were enough to make him cum all over his hand within a minute. He found it embarrassing, honestly, that you had this effect on him. Anakin fell asleep quickly and tried not to feel too gross about what he'd done.

On day 11, attempt 2, he woke up around 11, right before lunch, and came down to wish his mother and Cliegg a merry Christmas. Beru and Owen were supposed to come for dinner, but, this morning, it was just the three of them. Anakin had no particular yearning for Cliegg to be a father figure, he just wanted his mom to be happy. If Cliegg did that, then he'd watch endless movies with the two of them, or get Cliegg a present. But if she didn't want to be with him anymore, Anakin wasn't sure he'd miss him. Their second anniversary was in three weeks, and it was a shock that it had been that much time already. When dinner rolled around, and he greeted Owen and Beru awkwardly, not sure what a person is supposed to say to a newly-acquired sibling. He'd seen them a sum total of maybe ten times, almost all of which had to do with the wedding, so they were in how-was-school and how's-the-new-job and gosh-the-winter-has-been-brutal territory. When Anakin gave them their presents, they seemed overjoyed. He'd gotten them matching scarves, each with their first initial embroidered onto it. It was a miracle they had them in stock at the mall, he thought, but the present seemed to hit the right spot. Cliegg got the aforementioned fishing pole, something his mom had told him he was prattling on about, and he got his mom a beautiful new winter coat. She had been mending hers for years, and water and snow would soak right through it, but when he saw the beautiful down puffer coat in the store window, he knew she'd love it. He was right.

Cliegg got him a Laser Distance Measure, which must have cost a pretty penny, and Owen and Beru got him various engineering gadgets (a nice mechanical pencil for technical drawings and a cable carrying case, respectively). His mother's gift, though, was something he'd never be able to forgive. She had bought him a beautiful, fresh Raspberry Pi set, with 8 GB of RAM. It wasn't the most expensive thing in the world, but the $150 or $200 that it did cost her was enough to make him tear up. He'd mentioned months ago that he was thinking of getting one for some personal projects, something for his portfolio, and she bought it. He had the good sense not to say anything like You aren't supposed to get me presents for Christmas and crushed her in a hug, the kind that whispered I know how much this is worth, and I'm so lucky you're my mom. For a second, he was worried he would cry when he saw the crow's feet appear by her eyes, and he felt how thin the skin on her hands had gotten. When had she gotten so much older? For a terrifying moment, he realized he'd have to live without her one day, but then Cliegg made some comment about how he'd made hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the living room to chat. As the last tendrils of sunlight fell beneath the swath of trees in their backyard, he laughed at something Owen had said, and he felt the tiniest bit less alone. Like maybe it didn't matter if he got an A in thermo or had the best thesis in his year. The notion left him quickly.

On days 12-17, the warm feeling had subsided, and all he could think about was what you were doing. Whether you were moving on, or if you still felt the same way he did. If you wanted him again. The fantasy of you seeing him again and realizing that, oh, actually, you wanted to work it out, and also kiss him, inevitably ended with his hand on his cock and cum on his stomach, then regret and shame for about an hour afterward. Once the studio had reopened, he kept teaching there, but with more hours this time. Also, Anakin could finally open the folder on his computer named Thesis without cringing at it, but barely. His heart still skipped about four beats when he thought about how he'd have to see you practically every day. He pushed thoughts like that from his mind as much as he could. No point in torturing himself more than the actual semester would.

Day 18 was New Year's Eve. He went to a party hosted by some of his high school friends, some rager at a frat house. He just wanted to get drunk, honestly, and this seemed like a great excuse. It was sticky and hot even right outside the door, but the sweaty blast of steam that hit him when someone opened it turned his stomach. But the beer was free, so he wouldn't complain too much. A couple of times, he noticed a girl checking him out over the bone-shaking bass. He might have made a move, if he were a different person. If any one of them was you, or had your smile, or your eyes. As soon as he noticed something that was too different from you, he averted his gaze. They were all cute, he supposed, but that didn't matter. They weren't you. When the countdown started, Anakin retreated, not interested in being pulled into some kiss that stunk of beer. Instead, despite knowing he'd regret it, he sent you a text. happy new year, it read. He blamed the tequila, and went back into the fray of cheering people.

From days 19-24, Anakin kept on keeping. Dishes, teaching, occasional progress on his thesis. He submitted over 20 job applications. Sometime in the week, in his daily rehashing of all your messages, he noticed the read receipt had popped up on his text from New Year's Eve, and he cursed himself. He was cursing himself a lot lately. Especially when he promised he wouldn't jerk off over you, but it always ended up happening. The subtle rock of his hips against the mattress when he thought of you, grinding the hard flesh against the soft material, then the sticky warmth of release and the rush of regret that always came with it. The heat of the shower made him hard when he thought about how he'd always wanted to try fucking in the shower, more specifically, fucking you in the shower. He really shouldn't, he reasoned while his hand pumped his dick.

Day 25 was spent driving again, after he gave his mom a big hug and threw his suitcase in the car. Despite himself, he realized that he was no more over you than he had been on his drive to his house. The fact that he would see you tomorrow still made him perk up and wilt at the same time. In a short twenty-four hours, you'd be real, three-dimensional in front of him again. He wasn't sure what would happen--would you kiss him? Slap him? Combust? He could never tell with you. He wondered if you'd cut your hair over break, or if you'd talked to Ahsoka about him. Whatever fantasies he'd been nursing, they were all going to be proven or disproven tomorrow. So he had to use the hour before he arrived on campus to imagine, as hard as he could, that you were in the passenger seat. That you were his girlfriend. That you had just come from meeting his mom, who had shown you a bunch of truly humiliating baby pictures and had whispered to him that she liked you when you had gone to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, that was the reality he lived in.

You had compared schedules last semester, before things got weird, and you shared only two classes, both of which were on Mondays and Wednesdays. At 10:30, you'd both be in Unsupervised Learning, then at 2:30, you'd both take Dynamic Systems and Controls. When he woke up at 8:30, he showered, then tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He put on a shirt he knew you loved (you'd remarked on how well it fit him, and he didn't see it, but you did, and that was all that mattered) and his most comfortable jeans and hoodie. He secretly hoped you were doing the same kind of preening at home, trying to look good for him, but he didn't let the thought take up too much room in his mind.

At 10:25, when he walked into the lecture hall, he saw you instantly. Time stopped as he felt like someone had just gotten a particularly good hit to his solar plexus, and his whole body was responding, out of breath and weak and dizzy all at the same time. You were in the third row, to the left-hand side of the seats, and you looked more gorgeous than he remembered. How didn't he spend the whole break fantasizing about the way your hair shone or the curve of your neck? Seconds started ticking by again when he realized he was blocking the path to the seats, much to the anger of the group of people behind him. He walked down the steps to the second row like everything was normal, then positioned himself on the other side of the lecture hall. He kept his eyes firmly not trained on you for as long as he could, and, when the professor started droning, he turned to look at you, really look at you.

You had put on just a touch of makeup, something he'd noticed years ago that you always did on the first day of class. It suited you, and you looked well-rested and happy. Like you didn't miss him at all. It gutted him like a fish on the chopping block. What was wrong with him? How could he let you get away?

He turned back to the professor, pretending to be interested in the syllabus. When class ended, by the time he packed up his things, you had gone.

The second class was a repeat of the first, only in a smaller lecture hall. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he snuck glances. He was only human.

He didn't go into the lab for the week, mainly because he was almost done with build and was spending most of his time on securing materials for testing. They had their first practice that Monday, so he got dressed and headed over to the Athletic Center, where he grounded himself in the ritual, the calming power of it all. It was amazing to see Rex and Ahsoka again. They always made him smile, something he'd been missing over the break.

Later that week, Ahsoka invited him to your room to talk about that semester's competitions. He hesitated the appropriate amount of time before he accepted. The hallway to your room was achingly familiar, just like he'd seen it in his dreams. Only Ahsoka was home, so she wasted no time before interrogating him about what happened with the two of you.

When he told her the general gist, she had the good decency to be honest and tell him that he was kind of being an asshole by not mentioning it, but that it was normal to get advice from professors and other students. It wasn't ideal for it to be as explicitly grabbed, sure, but the point still stood.

By the time the door opened and you came in (his mind raced--from a date? from class? from some other part of your life that he would never come to know?), Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing taekwondo logistics. You looked gorgeous in the cozy cable-knit sweater you had on, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn't staring the way he thought he was.

You looked shocked for a good second before smiling awkwardly with a little "hey." You retreated to your room almost instantly, and Anakin felt a pit open up, wondering if he'd made you uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault, honestly, but he still felt guilty. He left an hour afterward.

Was this his fate? To watch you from a middle distance as you lived your life? He was trapped, pinned down like a bug, reading into everything he saw. If you were in a four-block radius, his eyes would find you. They always would. In class, he had to stop himself from turning toward you, from studying your features and trying to read anything from them. He never could.

Anakin was still fucking haunted by you, especially now that he was on campus. Everything reminded him of you. The boba place, every inch of your dorm, the emptiness in his mattress. He knew he was hallucinating when he thought he spied you at practice one day, just a wisp of hair in the corner of the room, but, by the time he did a double take, there was only empty floor there.

On Thursday, he got a text from Ahsoka.

Party tomorrow at Cody's. You should come, she had written. He didn't really, actually feel like partying. But he went anyway. Maybe he could spend enough time with his friends to forget about you.

He threw on a nice shirt, some kind of button-up his mom had gotten him, cuffed the sleeves, and set off.

It was a standard-issue party. He'd been to plenty of them, so he figured was ready and prepared for what he'd see and feel. Bass in his eardrums so loud it shook the blood in his veins. Having to scream basic conversation over music. Cheap beer and a sticky floor. Enough heat that his hair would start curling more.

It felt like home. He entered, found Cody and Ahsoka quickly, promising to return after he grabbed a drink. Anakin made his way to the folding table crammed full of bottles, as well as some kind of vile jungle juice, and took two shots. Just enough to stop thinking about you, he hoped.

By the time he fought his way back to Cody and Ahsoka, he was feeling it. Rex had joined them in the meantime, and Anakin joined the little huddle. They were talking (read: yelling "what did you say?" over the music) about one of Cody's dates that week, and Anakin let himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his friends. It was nice, honestly. He only thought of you five or six times, which was a record low.

Then Ahsoka suggested they go get another drink, and, as the four of them pushed back toward the drinks station, he saw you.

You were fucking radiant, and the breath stalled in his chest. You had always been the only thing he ever wanted to look at in a room, even from sophomore year, when you began to piss him off more than anything, but right now, you were a supernova. And he was a moth. He felt his wings get burned off as he traced the curve of your jaw and acknowledged to himself that, yeah, he probably wasn't going to get over you until you were across state lines.

You were wearing some sinfully short, tight dress, which crept higher and higher up your thighs. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra, and something stirred inside of him.

But then he saw the guy standing next to you, leaning in to tell something to your ear. Anakin hated himself for the thought, but he instantly started comparing himself to the guy. What was Mr. Boat Shoes saying to you that made you tip your head back and laugh like that? He remembered when he used to do that, when he would make you throw your head back to do more than just laugh.

Anakin felt his jaw clench and his body start to shake with the same energy that he always had before competitions, coiled like a snake about to strike.

He knew it was a bad idea, he really did. But he was never one to resist bad ideas. He blamed the alcohol. It wasn't that you were his, or some misguided attempt at owning you, but he just couldn't watch this. He couldn't let this feeling tear him apart anymore. When you swatted the guy's chest playfully, Anakin felt his eye twitch, right under his scar. Oh hell no. But he shouldn't. It was your business.

Fuck it.

Anakin started pushing through the crowd, and then he saw the guy lean in, and he saw red.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[kikiswriting7]

Take a Chance ✵ JJK ✵ MYG - 4

✵ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

✵Summary: Y/N just move across the world to start her University. She is paired with a roommate who is complete social butterfly and makes a bet, Y/N needs to take more chances. And at the hint of her new found friend, her social and romantic life take a dramatic turn.

✵Tags/Warnings: Smut, College AU, red flag, sexual tension. angst, dirty talking, drinking, friends with benefits, full of cliches, friends to lover, temptation

✵Notes: Hello! Sorry it took a bit longer than imagined! I am also writing my bachelor thesis together with this and its a whole lot of words hahahah Anyway hope you enjoy it and if you want to be added to the tag list please sign up on this link! (You must be over 18 ;) )

lots of love, Kiki

CHAPTER 3 - ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL

Jin is screaming at the TV as we play the video game he so desperately begged to play. "Seriously!? How can you be this good?! It's not fair! You said you never played it before!" He quickly restarts the game from the point where I finished, and he didn’t. I shrug it off, smirking. We've been playing every other day together, either through calls or him coming over. Normally, we play some co-op game where we can team up against what we swear are young boys, who we are sure are screaming behind every elimination point we get. But today, he wanted to try this new Mario game where we need to complete the courses against each other.

“What can I do if you keep falling over?” I say with a straight face and a side-eye when he restarts the same level we have been trying to finish for the past two and a half hours.

Jimin, sprawled on the couch next to us and entertained by his phone, just laughs off the misery of his friend, earning him a fast shush.

“Ahhh, shiiiiish,” he says, taking a deep breath before pressing play again. “You know, I think we finally found someone who's good at winning. I bet she’s better than JK….” Jimin says to no one in particular. But the one he was talking about, equally sprawled in a corner, is quick to glance his friend’s way.

“I would bet my chips on you, Dice,” Jimin says, poking my leg with the tip of his foot. The nickname, unfortunately, stuck. Not because I liked it, but because they thought it was hilarious—such a random word for a nickname. Gabi proved her point for the nickname not too many nights ago when we were at a bar and I refused to do more shots with her.

The nudge delivered by Jimin was enough to lose my timing and jump wrong, letting Jin follow on with the course.

“HA!” He jumps over the seat. “Who’s the best now?!” He is excitedly playing the game standing up now, getting the attention of the two other boys in the room.

“Clearly not her…” JK mumbles under his breath. I give him a bad look, sitting back on the couch. Not too many jumps later, Jin’s character follows suit, descending to the bottom of the screen with a sad losing music. Jimin laughs again at the situation and goes back to being on his phone.

They have been over almost every day for the last five weeks. Eli is also one that doesn’t miss an opportunity to be over. However, since Yoongi introduced Mina, he’s been a bit more distant. If he doesn’t say he’s busy trying to finish a project for whatever class he has, he vanishes, to the point that not even the others know where he went. Whenever we do get to talk, often just small talk when the others are choosing the movie, he seems to always go back to the subject of this girl in school that he thinks is adorable. Every time he mentions her, he manages to describe her loosely enough that I (Jimin, Gabi, and I) think that the only person he could be describing is me. Mina was ruled out as a suspect as she doesn’t go to the same school and doesn’t exactly fit the characteristics he keeps mentioning.

“Man, you need to jump literally two seconds earlier,” JK gets up, steals the controller from Jin, and drops in the middle of the two of us, breaking the zoning out that I was entering.

Before he presses start, he leans closer. “Sorry, but this one you're not gonna get lucky, Dice.” And turns back to face the TV.

The countdown starts, and we both get ready to try and not lose first. Even Jimin, who clearly doesn’t give a single care, sneakily puts his phone down to watch what is about to unfold.

The game starts, and we both are flawlessly jumping the boxes, each step closer to the point Jin and I couldn’t pass. Knowing the circuit better, I know when to run faster, so I end up in front of JK, who is now reaching closer and closer to the edge of the seat. Everyone is holding their breath as we both successfully pass the point where we were stuck, and we can clearly see the end of the course and the last jumps we need to make when the door slams open with an out-of-breath Gabi, breaking our concentration long enough that we cannot complete the almost-done course.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “What is it now?” he asks.

“Oh man! I have piping hot freaking tea,” she slams the door shut. “I just saw Yoongi!”

“Are you for real?” Jungkook jumps up and points to the TV. “We almost won!”

“If you let me finish, you would have the same reaction as me,” Gabi says, flicking him off. She locks eyes with me before she continues, “I saw Yoongi. With Eli. As in, them together, quite close, together.”

Jimin is now the one sitting up. “What the fuck? Are you serious?” And Gabi just nods, confirming it.

“Forget it. This is so stupid. And so what if they were together?” Jungkook sits back down next to me but receives a side-eye from all of us, without reply.

“Anyway… thought you should know that,” she looks at me and at Jimin. Us three have developed almost psychic abilities at this point. We all know now that she means that the mystery girl might, in fact, not be me, but Eli.

Jimin sits back, rubbing his temples, processing the revelation. The room falls into a heavy silence, the excitement from the game now a distant memory. Jin, sensing the tension, puts down the controller and turns to Gabi.

“Wait, are you sure it was Eli? Maybe it was someone who looked like her?”

Gabi shakes her head, her expression serious but still with wide eyes. “Oh, I’m positive. They were really close, drinking that coffee.”

I glance at Jimin, who looks back at me with an expression that mirrors my confusion and concern. Eli and Yoongi? The idea of it doesn’t sit right, but Gabi's encounter seems hard to refute.

“Maybe they’re just friends?” I suggest, trying to diffuse the situation, though I know it sounds weak.

Jin, always the peacemaker, tries to lighten the mood. “Yeah, maybe it’s just a misunderstanding. You know how Yoongi is, always friendly with everyone.”

But the seed of doubt has been planted. I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. Over the past few weeks, I’ve found myself growing more and more interested in Yoongi. His charm and the way he could always make me laugh—it was hard not to develop feelings. But now, knowing about him with Eli, of all people, it feels like a punch to the gut.

Jungkook, still beside me, is watching me closely. He’s  become good at reading my emotions, even when I try to hide them. He shifts a little closer, his shoulder brushing mine, offering silent support. 

Jimin, ever the skeptic, isn’t convinced. “Gabi, you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions? Yoongi’s always been a bit of a player, but this seems... different. I mean, I’m pretty sure that both of them know that you like Yoongi…”

Gabi crosses her arms, standing her ground. “I know what I saw. They were way too close to just be friends.”

The room falls silent again, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I can feel Jungkook’s eyes on me, and I know he’s worried. I can sense he wants to say something, but he holds back.

Finally, Jin sighs. “Look, sitting here speculating isn’t going to help. Plus, Jimin I might add that hes our friend for ages, so maybe lets not jump the gun here.” He says giving him a small side eye “Why don’t we do something to get our minds off this?” He suggests

Gabi nods enthusiastically. “There’s a party at this club in the city centre. We should go. It’ll be a good distraction.”

Jimin looks at me raising an eyebrow and smirking, waiting for my reaction. I take a deep breath, trying to push away the hurt. “Yeah, let’s go. Maybe a party is exactly what we need.”

As we start getting ready, the mood in the room shifts slightly. The anticipation of the party brings a sense of normalcy back, even if just temporarily. Jin and Jimin are quick to joke around, trying to lift everyone’s spirits. And starting the pre drinking that we normally do before going out. 

The drive to the party is filled with laughter and light-hearted banter, a welcome distraction from the earlier tension. When we arrive, the thumping music and the buzz of people immediately envelop us.

Inside, we try to stay together. We find ourselves mingling with the people in the middle of the club. But my mind keeps drifting back to Yoongi and Eli. I spot Jungkook across the room coming back with a few more drinks, our eyes lock. He gives me a reassuring nod, and I feel a bit more grounded.

As the night goes on, Gabi, Jimin, and I find ourselves getting progressively drunk. We take shots, laugh at stupid jokes, and dance like there’s no tomorrow. For a while, it feels good to let loose and forget about the confusion and hurt.

“Another round?” Gabi shouts over the music, holding up her cup. 

“Why not?” Jimin grins, already looking a more then just a bit buzzed.

I laugh, feeling the alcohol warm my veins. “Let’s do it!”

We clink our glasses together and down the shots, the burn of the liquor making me wince. But it’s a good kind of burn, one that makes me feel alive and carefree.

Jungkook watches from the sidelines, a small smile playing on his lips. He’s sticking to soda, playing the responsible one tonight. He catches my eye and raises his glass in a silent toast. I smile back, grateful for his steady presence.

Hours pass in a blur of music, laughter, and drinks. At some point, Gabi pulls me onto the dance floor, and we lose ourselves in the rhythm. Jimin joins us, his movements loose and carefree. We’re a trio of drunken joy, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Yoongi and not far behind, Eli. My heart sinks, and the carefree feeling evaporates.

Gabi, noticing my distraction, follows my gaze and frowns. “Ignore them,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Tonight’s about having fun.”

I nod, trying to take her advice to heart. But it’s hard to shake the image from my mind. Jungkook appears beside me, offering a gentle smile. 

“Hey, wanna get some fresh air?” he asks, trying to talk over the loud music. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say, grateful for the escape.

We step outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stuffy, crowded club. The outside, filled with people smoking and chatting loudly in the street. 

“You okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft.

I shrug, definetly feeling the alcohol in my system now and dulling the edges of my emotions. “It’s fine. Its not like we had anything anyway” I try to push away the conversation that I definetly don’t want to have right now. 

He nods, understanding. “You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are.”

I look at him and raise an eyebrow. For the past weeks, he has kept to himself with the flirting. We all have been going out together and his presence ever so reasuring. I give him a small laugh and shrug away his statement. 

He smiles, his eyes warm. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, but I swear I could see his eyes sparkle when looking back at him. My heart flutters and I definetly must be way more drunk than I thought. I need to go find Gabi. She must be drunk in a corner somehwere. 

I quickly turn around and stumble and Jungkook quickly grabs my arm to bring me back to my feet. “Should we go home? I think you had enough of party today…” he says carefully. Damn that cold feeling on my stomach. I definelty don’t feel anything for him. But why do his lips look so pink and soft? I can only imagine what they would feel like..

I shake my head snapping out of it, catching his big round eyes staring back at me. 

“No, I need to find Gabi. We always come back together.” We weave our way back through the throngs of people, the music thumping louder as we reenter the crowded club. My head is swimming, a mix of alcohol and emotions making it hard to focus. Jungkook stays close, his hand lightly resting on the small of my back, guiding me through the chaos.

As we make our way to the bar, I spot Gabi leaning heavily into Jin, laughing at something he said. Jin, ever the gentleman, is trying to keep her upright, a bemused smile on his face. Jimin is nearby, his gaze darting between Gabi and the crowd, looking slightly lost.

I manage to make my way over to Gabi, and she immediately latches onto me, her eyes bright and unfocused. “There you are! Let’s do more shots!” she exclaims, her words slurring together.

I’m about to agree when Jimin and Jungkook intervene. “Nop, no more shots for you” Jimin says firmly, gently prying Gabi off me. “You’re already drunk enough.” Jungkook nods in agreement. “Let’s get you some water instead.”

Gabi pouts but doesn’t resist much as Jimin leads her away from the bar. I giggle but I feel a twinge of disappointment, part of me wanting to keep the party going, to drown out all the emotions bubbling inside of me right now. But Jungkook’s steady presence next to me is a reminder that I will not be taking anything else tonight other then water. 

Just then, Yoongi and Eli approach our group. They don’t make it obvious that they arrived together, and no one brings it up. Yoongi’s eyes find mine, a mix of concern and something else in his gaze. Eli is by his side, but there’s a distance between them now that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” Yoongi says, his voice calm and composed. “You guys okay?”

I nod, with a loose smile on my lips “Yeah, just trying to keep Gabi from getting too drunk.”

“I would say Jungkook and Jimin are trying to keep you both from getting more drunk” Eli jokes and I feel him tense next to me.  “It was his idea!” Gabi butts in the conversation and points to Jimin who, also drunkly, tries to steady her. 

Yoongi glances at Gabi, who is now back to happily chatting with Jimin and Jin, then back at me. “I can take you guys home if you want. I’m heading out anyway.”

We leave the club, Yoongi and Eli flanking us as we make our way to the bus stop. Gabi and Jimin are in high spirits, though their drunken state makes it clear that they’re struggling to keep their balance. Gabi leans heavily on Eli, her laughter spilling out in bursts that mix with the cool night air. Jimin, also swaying slightly, is grinning like a fool and bumping into things as we walk.

Yoongi sticks close to my side, his presence steady and reassuring. Eli occasionally glancing back at Yoongi and me.

The bus ride is a mix of awkwardness and exhaustion. I notice that Eli is starting to fidget. Gabi and Jimin are getting more out of control, their drunken antics making it hard for me to keep a clear head. I try to help them find their seats, but Gabi keeps giggling and leaning against me while Jimin slumps into the seat, his head resting against the window.

Yoongi sits beside me, his arm brushing against mine. He leans in slightly, his voice soft. “How are you holding up?”

I glance at him, appreciating his concern. “I’m okay, looking forward to get home”

He nods, a small smile on his lips.

The bus jolts to a stop, and I watch as Eli exits, waving goodbye with a slightly disheveled look. The doors close behind her, and the bus continues on its route.

By the time we reach our stop, Gabi and Jimin are both in bad shape. Jimin stumbles off the bus and as Yoongi unlocks the door, as he is the who is the most sober between all of us, Jimin pushes him aside and crashes onto the couch in the living room, his body collapsing in a heap. Gabi, somehow finding the energy, manages to make her way to her room, though she’s swaying and mumbling incoherently.

Yoongi helps me get Gabi to her bed, making sure she’s settled before turning back to me. The apartment is quiet, the noise of the night replaced by a peaceful stillness.

I make my way back to the front door, feeling a wave of sobriety wash over me as the adrenaline from the night fades. The reality of the situation hits me hard. I’m alone with Yoongi, the person I’ve been trying to understand and connect with for weeks, but was just out with one who I tought was one of my best friends here. 

“Thank you for everything tonight,” I whisper trying not wake up Jimin who was asleep not too far, I look up at him with a shy and grateful smile. 

He takes a step closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “It was my pleasure. I’m just glad you are okay.”

There’s a charged silence between us, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Yoongi’s gaze drops to my lips, and I can see the desire and warmth in his eyes. Without thinking, which I can only blame the 5 shots and the many cups of wine I downed this evening, I lean in, my heart racing.

Yoongi meets me halfway, his lips capturing mine in a heated kiss. The world around us fades away as the kiss deepens, his hands finding their way to my face, holding me close. The kiss is a mix of longing and relief, a culmination of all the emotions we’ve both been holding back.

When our lips finally meet, it’s a delicate, exploratory touch—soft and hesitant, as if we’re both savoring the moment of first contact. His lips are warm and tender against mine, sending a rush of sensation that makes my heart skip a beat. The kiss deepens slowly, becoming more passionate but still gentle, as if we are both savoring the newness of the moment.

His hands move to cup my face, holding me gently but firmly, as if anchoring us both in this moment. I respond, my hands resting on his shoulders, feeling the tension and warmth of his body. The kiss becomes a dance of give-and-take, each movement smooth and synchronized.

Suddenly, Yoongi’s hands slide down from my face to my waist, pulling me closer against him. The intensity of the kiss increases, and a soft moan escapes my lips as his tongue brushes against mine, teasing and exploring. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the firmness of his chest against mine, and it sends a shiver of excitement through my body.

I run my fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer, the kiss growing more fervent. His hands roam my back, tracing patterns that make my skin tingle with anticipation. Every touch, every brush of his lips feels electric, and I’m completely lost in the sensation, in him.

We finally break apart, gasping for breath, our foreheads resting against each other. Yoongi’s eyes are dark with desire, his breathing ragged. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits softly, his voice husky with emotion.

I nod, my heart pounding. “Me too,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my racing heartbeat.

He smiles, a soft, genuine smile that makes my heart flutter. “I should go now. It’s late, and you need to get some rest. You’re definitely going to need some coffee tomorrow.”

I manage a small laugh, still feeling the aftershocks of our kiss. “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, for getting us back here.”

He gives me one last, lingering look before stepping towards the door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I reply, watching him leave. The door closes behind him, and I’m left alone in the quiet apartment, feeling a mixture of exhilaration and nervous anticipation for what comes next.

I head back to my room, feeling completely sober now, the kiss still fresh on my lips. He’s right. I will definitely need that coffee tomorrow.

The sharp light of morning filters through the thin curtains, turning my small bedroom into a bright, albeit blurry, reality. My head is pounding with the remnants of last night’s revelry, and I feel a dull ache behind my eyes. I groan and stretch, hoping to shake off the fog that lingers from too many drinks.

I roll over to check my phone, squinting at the screen as I fumble with the brightness. The messages from Jungkook, sent in the group chat, catches my attention first, asking if we all made it back safely. Yoongi’s reply—a simple thumbs-up.

God. Yoongi. Did I actually kiss him last night? The reality of what happened last night comes crashing back. My heart skips a beat as I remember the kiss, the heat of his lips against mine, and the surge of feelings that accompanied it. The warmth of Yoongi’s touch, the intensity in his eyes—it all feels so vivid and real, despite the haze of alcohol that clearly clouded my judgment.

I sit up, shaking my head to clear the lingering grogginess. My fingers instinctively brush over my lips, still tingling from the kiss. Was it a mistake? Was it something real? The confusion and anxiety settle in as I replay the moments leading up to that kiss in my mind. The way Yoongi had looked at me, how our lips had met, the way his touch had felt.

I stumble out of bed, trying to piece together the fragments of the previous night. The sun’s rays are harsh against my eyes, magnifying the headache that pulses with each heartbeat. As I pad across the room, my reflection in the mirror catches my eye. My hair is a mess, and I look as disheveled as I feel. I reach for my phone again, scrolling through the messages to see if there’s any sign of further communication from him. But there’s nothing new.

I head to the kitchen, hoping that a strong cup of coffee will help me clear my head. The ritual of brewing coffee is a small comfort amidst the turmoil. As the aroma fills the kitchen, no matter how hard I try, my mind keeps returning to the kiss.

The way Yoongi’s lips had felt on mine was more than just a normal kiss— Had it been just the alcohol talking? Or was there something real beneath the surface? I keep replaying the moment in my head, his warm breath against my cheek, the way his fingers had cradled my face. But Gabi had seen him with Eli, not long before. 

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I need to talk to Yoongi, but how do I even begin with a conversation like that? What if he sees it as just a mistake, or worse, what if he regrets it? Maybe he was drunk too and might not even remember last night. 

The coffee brews slowly, giving me time to gather my thoughts. I decide to take a shower, hoping that the refreshing feel of water will help me clear my mind. As I let the hot water cascade over me, I try to focus on the present, on the routine of getting ready for the day. 

Wrapped in a towel, I check my phone again. The lack of new messages from Yoongi only heightens my anxiety. I wonder if he’s also been thinking about what happened, or if he’s already moved past it. The uncertainty is eating at me.

“Hey, thanks for last night. I was wondering if you are free later? Thought we should talk”

I hit send and put my phone down. Now, it’s a matter of waiting for his response. I hear commotion on the living room as Jimin starts to come back to himself. I prepare an extra cup of coffe and head to the living room. I drop onto the couch next to Jimin, who’s already wincing at the strong aroma of coffee. He looks as rough as I feel—his hair sticking out in odd angles, and the dark circles under his eyes making him look like he’s been through a battle.

 “Man I feel bad if you feel like how you look” Jimin grumbles, his eyes half-shut as he reaches for the coffee I’d prepared for him.

“If I were you, I’d keep quiet. You don’t look much better yourself,” I reply, trying to match his attempt at humor with my own. I lean back against the cushions, feeling the slight comfort of the soft fabric against my tired body.

Jimin takes a slow sip from his cup, grimacing as the bitter taste hits his tongue. “Ugh, I don’t even remember getting home last night. Was it really as crazy as it felt?”

“It was a pretty intense night,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual. I don’t mention the kiss, not really sure why. I blame the hungover I’m nursing. “We all made it back somehow. Gabi’s still asleep in her room.”

Jimin nods, his gaze distant as he tries to piece together fragments of the previous night. “Yeah, I remember bits and pieces. I think I saw Yoongi...”

The mention of Yoongi makes my heart race a little faster. I try to push away the nervousness and focus on Jimin’s recovery from his hangover. “Yeah, Yoongi was a real lifesaver. He helped get us home and made sure everyone was okay.”

“Oh, nice of him,” Jimin replies, his voice a bit clearer now. 

I manage a small smile and nod, though my thoughts are still consumed by the kiss and the uncertainty of where things stand between Yoongi and me. 

The sound of my phone buzzing interrupts the quiet moment. I reach for it, my heart skipping a beat as I see Yoongi’s name on the screen. I quickly open the message, hoping for some clarity.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about last night too. I’m free this afternoon. How about we meet up and talk?”

A mix of relief and anxiety floods over me. He wants to meet and talk—this is my chance to understand what really happened between us. I take a deep breath and compose my reply.

Sounds good. How about we meet at that? I’ll see you there around 3?

I send the message and set my phone aside, feeling a slight tremor of nerves in my stomach. Meeting up with Yoongi will bring everything out into the open. I glance at Jimin, who’s now scrolling through his phone and looking slightly more awake.

“Hey, I’m heading out this afternoon to meet up with Yoongi,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “Do you think you’ll be up for a little while? Maybe we can catch up after I get back?”

Jimin nods, managing a weak smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need to get through this coffee and maybe a nap. You go ahead. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling a touch of gratitude. “let me know if you need anything else”

I’m not surprise that we were walking up late, way past noon. I get ready, throwing some casual clothes and leave the appartment, taking my time to reach the café. The sunlight feeling oddly warm and bright as I head towards the café. The crisp air helps clear my mind a little, though the anxiety about the upcoming conversation with Yoongi lingers. I keep replaying the kiss in my mind, trying to decipher its meaning.

When I finally reach the café, I find a quiet corner table and settle in, hoping that the ambiance and the soothing music will help calm my nerves. I order a drink and wait, my thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation. 

Yoongi arrives right on time, looking casual but put-together. He spots me and gives a small wave as he walks over, looking not at all bothered by anything. Why do I have a feeling this might go south?

“Hey,” he says as he approaches, taking a seat across from me. “Thanks for meeting up.”

“Of course,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “I thought it was important we talk.”

We both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of the kiss hanging between us. Finally, Yoongi breaks the silence, his voice low and sincere.

“I’ve been thinking about last night a lot,” he starts, looking directly into my eyes. “I really felt something when we kissed,” he had said, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes. But then, he had added, “But I’m not looking for anything serious right now. So I would appreciate if we could keep it low what happened.”

Yoongi’s words hang in the air, and for a moment, the world around me seems to blur. The warm café, the chatter of other patrons, the gentle hum of the coffee machine—all fade as I focus on the unexpected turn in his confession

His expression is a mix of apprehension and regret, as if he’s bracing himself for my reaction. I sit there, trying to process the weight of his words. The initial rush of relief I felt when I saw his message this morning feels like a distant memory. The knot in my stomach tightens as I grapple with the reality of what he’s saying.

I’m still silent, struggling to articulate my thoughts. The brief silence feels interminable, filled with the noise of my own racing heartbeat and the hum of the café around us. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

“I’m ok with that.” I try to brush it off even though the only thing in my mind was that damn kiss. He still seems tense. “I mean it was just a moment of…intensity. You just want to forget what happened?” I ask him

Yoongi’s gaze drops to his hands, fidgeting with the edge of the napkin on the table. “Not exactly forget. More like…keep it as a moment that happened between us, but not let it change things or complicate what we have right now.”

I nod slowly, the disappointment settling heavily in my chest. “I understand. I guess I should’ve expected something like this. I mean, we were both drunk”

We sit in silence for a moment, the initial tension easing slightly as we both process the conversation. Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee, and I try to find solace in the soothing ambiance of the café.

Finally, I’m the one to break the silence. “Do you want to talk about something else? Or maybe just…hang out for a bit?”

“Uh, actually I’m a bit busy today. Maybe another day?”

I nod, trying not show the dissapointment that is brewing inside. 

“Yup. Thanks for the talk today!” I say to him and he quickly finishes his drink and gets ready to leave.

Yoongi finishes his coffee quickly and stands up, his movements a little too eager as if he’s anxious to leave. He offers me a quick, somewhat awkward smile before gathering his things.

“Thanks for being chill about it,” he says, his voice filled with genuine relief. “I’ll text you later!”

I manage a small, forced smile in return. “Yup. Thanks for the talk today!” I watch him as he heads out, the door chiming softly behind him. The café feels emptier now, the absence of his presence leaving a noticeable gap.

As the door closes, the reality of our conversation settles heavily in my chest. I stare down at the remnants of my coffee, the once comforting aroma now a bitter reminder of our discussion. The weight of his words, the certainty of his boundaries, and the palpable sense of finality hang around me like a shroud.

The quiet of the café feels almost oppressive now, the gentle murmur of conversations and the clinking of cups a distant background noise. I glance around, feeling disconnected from the world outside, lost in the aftermath of our conversation.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my swirling emotions. I had hoped for more clarity, a resolution that would either move us forward or let me put the past behind me. Instead, I’m left with an uneasy acceptance of the boundaries Yoongi has set. It feels like a door closing softly, leaving me in a limbo between hope and resignation.

With a sigh, I gather my things and stand up, taking one last look around the café before heading out. The sunlight outside feels warm and bright, but it does little to chase away the lingering shadows in my mind. Previous ✧ Next

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[study-for-hogwarts]

Since I just finished my bachelor thesis and have all this -for now- unnecessary knowledge swirling around in my head, I let it out here, in case anyone can find it useful.

I present: the biggest (formating & general) rules in thesis writing (as proposed by my German professor):

1. Per page: at least 2 maximum 4 paragraphs. Professors don't like to have one huge block of text for more than half a page. They will be less likely to want to read your paper.

2. Figures and Images: put them in the text where they are spoken about, don't just refer to them being in the appendix. It disrupts the reading flow and no professor likes to shuffle back and forth in a paper multiple times. Also, images and figures should be centralised on a page, seem coherent with each other in their entirety (especially if you created them yourself, use one colour and design pallette if possible) and be named correctly. Additionally, ich you use more than 3 or 4 images/figures, have a table of tables/figures in the front of your paper after table of contents.

3. Use figures and Images - be visual, make your thesis as easy as possible to understand. No one likes to read something and have his brain in knots the whole time.

4. Use times new Roman (or Arial) in size 12, 1.5

5. Recap: If your paper is really long, we're talking about 45 pages plus and you are talking about something from chapter 2 in chapter 7, briefly (!) recap it for ease of understanding and to reinforce your red string (roter Faden).

6. Subtitles: rather have too many than too few subtitles, they make it easier to navigate the paper and help you keep track of the smaller sections (they can also help in the writing process as too not lose focus of what you are doing).

7. Limitations and future research: at the end of your paper, after the discussion and before the conclusion, you have to name limitations. If you think you had none, look again. NO paper, none at all has no limitations. If you can think only of a few, you can also add them in one or two sentences to the conclusion, but it's better to have a separate part. For theses or papers in general, common limitations are time constraint, limited access to data, limited know-how, etc. After limitations, you can have another small chapter called "future research", here you can put all the ideas that you had during writing, which are in relation to your main topics. Maybe you would have liked to research more into a specific area, or you were missing key information somewhere. In future research you can put all the ideas you would like to see researched in the future.

8. Page numbers: i hope you were clever and formatted your document with page numbers, titles and subtitles before even starting to write (if you weren't, like me), it's not horrible, but it can be slightly annoying. Don't try to do it by yourself if your not sure. Just don't. You will probably get frustrated and your stress levels will rise even more. Just Google "how to multiple kinds of page numbers Microsoft word" and follow the instructions exactly. This saves you time and nerves. Usually in theses, you use Greek page numbers (I,II,III,IV,V,VI,...) For table of contents until the introduction, and then continue with them as soon as your bibliography starts. For the part in between (introduction until conclusion) you use Roman (?) numbers (1,2,3,...).

9. Titles: if you use 1. 1.2 1.2.1 etc., make sure that it is necessary to use things like 4.5.5.1.1. A rule of thumb is, if you can't say 2 (i.e. 4.5.5.1.1 but not 4.5.5.1.2) than you don't need to say 4.5.5.1.1 at all but put that part unter 4.5.5.1. Of course, this rule does not work all the time, but I like to check the necessity of my structure in this way.

10. Plan more days: When you are nearly done with your writing process, many of us estimate 1 day for formatting and 1 for proof reading. This is, was and never will be enough. Especially not if you are a perfectionist. Plan at least 1 week for formatting and proofreading. Honestly I would recommend 10 days. Because after writing a huge paper like this you are bound to be exhausted and will crash some days. Also, it is good to take 1-2 days of distance from your work to have a fresh point of view. If I would write a bachelor thesis again, I honestly would calculate 2 weeks for formatting and proofreading. If you have to "fix" your sources, definitely take 10 days. You will take 2 days for sources, if you have to find additional ones, or check them.

11. Last but not least: if possible, register your bachelor thesis (i.e. in Germany that is the point when you officially start your writing period (usually around 9-12 weeks) as late as possible. Do as much research, etc. before this time starts. I won't say write at least half of your thesis before you start this period and have all your questionnaires/interviews/or whatever research type you use ready to go. I won't say that, but well... Just, 9 weeks is nothing. Honestly, think about the 2 weeks towards proofreading, sources and formatting (+trying to get calm after being stressed continuously for 7 weeks (I was)). Just, if you think now is the time to register, wait another two weeks.

That's all for now, I know I will use this again for my master thesis, so I will leave this here for now. I hope it helps some of you too.🤗