#anyways i wrote a song recently and sent it to this person and she asked me if it was a love song

[andrrrgynous]

i have to post about it somewhere but i dont want everyone to over analyze it bc they know who it's to so the two ppl here who will figure it out keep ur mouth shut

[okay-j-hannah]

Hii hannah! I'm bout three months late because i had exams going on, well, I still have exams going on but I decided to not procrastinate and just write this.

Thank you so so much for writing my tenth doctor and rory requests. you don't know how much it means that you took time out of your life to write my requests. when I first started watching Doctor who, barely a season in, i stumbled upon your blog and read your dying girl story, i didn't even know anything properly bout doctor's character or other companions but your fic though! it captured doctor's character so well! It was in May I read it and started watching the show and I now always connect that time with doctor who and you and your fics haha. 

 I got so obsessed that I made this dying girl reader universe in my head with headcanons and stuff and started associating songs to the reader and fic ; i know they are like kinda popular cliche songs but snowman by sia and never be the same by camila cabelo really reminds me of the amy and rorys wedding scene with reader and doctor dancing (was it real or I made that up in my head?) and memory of reader practising mind reading thing and seeing memories of Doctor and she's like who's this beautiful person in his memories and doctor is like that's you love <3 moonlight serenade, spring waltz, we'll meet again, moon river, across the universe are some other songs I associate with them,, you didn't even ask for playlist but here I'm sharing it just because lmao 

and then you wrote my ten request and added it dying girl universe, when I tell you actually started screaming from excitement when I saw it! I really wasn't expecting it, i was so so happy! And Idk why but I just feel so honoured that my request was added into the "official" dying girl universe masterlist! and the rory fic too, it was so sweet! you wrote it exactly as what I had in my mind when I sent you request, tysm for that! 

Ngl I always checked your page once in a while when you were on break because I just looked forward to your writing so much and in January, around my birthday, found out you were active again and posted my requests and gotta say, best birthday gift even if it technically wasn't lol. I wonder if you've finished twelve's episodes, you mentioned how it is hard to "let go" of a doctor and I completely agree,  I finishesed twelfth doctors episodes in December and God was it hard to say goodbye to him, I know I can rewatch but it won't be like first time :'( you know, the "i love my current doctor so much" feeling?

I've started thirteen but it doesn't feel the same, especially without murray gold's music and well, moffat and rtd. so glad that rtd is coming back for new seasons though!

Oh and have you read love is a choice fic on tumblr? it's a mostly eleven but also kinda thirteen x reader multiple parts series and tbh, one of the only fic that made me laugh and cry like dying girl series did. if you haven't i hope you check it out, it's a great read!

Kinda unrelated but can I just say ty to that person who sent you ask related to will turner, i recently watched one of the potc movie for the first time because i thought the will turner guy looked cute from the ask and now ive fallen down a rabbit hole lol I finished your will turner fics and now im searching up tumblr for more will turner x reader, it seems he's my new hyperfixation 😭 anyways ty again to that person and you ofc for the fics, and this is not a official request(it could be ig) but I hope you write second part to the merchant/pirate will fic!

And I've sent you two requests this time too, hope you'll like them enough to write it! I know I've said it lot in this single ask but Again thank you so much for everything and it's great to have you back on here and I hope you enjoyed your break, remember to take them again if you need to <333

My darling, my dearest, my love, you're making my heart so so happy!

I love that you took off with the Dying Girl universe because honestly that's what it became for me while I was writing it. It became so big I knew I could write so much about what happens in between the parts, and your request fit perfectly there.

Thank you for the playlist 😂 it does kind of bring the characters more to life when you associate them with things like songs. And you definitely didn't make up the wedding dancing scene, that happened in Part 6: The Lost Shoes!

I totally understand finding yourself fully immersed in a story, even if it is fanfiction. When that happens to me I just write and post it on here 😅 That's happened with the Dying Girl and the episodic series I started for the Eleventh Doctor and the Samwise Gamgee series and this Mandalorian one I'm starting.

My brain is hardwired to come up with these random tangents to canon stories, and they end up becoming these elaborate fanfictions.

I'm so glad you liked your requested fics! I had a lot of fun writing them. The Domestic fic was so fun to get back into the Dying Girl universe. I wouldn't mind writing more about their in between adventures. Happy belated birthday!

I have not finished twelves episodes - I'm still on his last season. Just like I wrote on our last conversation, I'm terrified of how sad I'll feel when he leaves because ten and eleven were real heartbreakers. I agree, I love him, and I'm so excited you requested something for him.

And I'm also so stoked for the new seasons with RTD and the 60th specials with ✨David Tennant✨ I'll have to finish twelve and thirteen before that comes out at the end of this year.

I haven't read "Love is a Choice" but I immediately looked it up and added it to my likes, so perhaps it'll be the fanfics I read when I try to sleep tonight lol

And I'm sorry... you hadn't seen any of the Pirates of the Caribbean!? I've been watching those movies since I was like seven! It's such a great fandom and Jack Sparrow is such a mood and Will Turner is such a dreamboat.

I'm almost honored that my blog prompted you to watch such an excellent franchise. I also hyperfixate on new characters and fandoms I love. I do have one request in my inbox for Will Turner and I've gotten multiple messages to write a part 2 for A Merchant Sailor, so perhaps when I finish this batch of requests I'll add it to the list.

So do expect more Will Turner fics to come 😘

I love that we have this little pen pal relationship where we just write each other letters 😂 It's honestly really good to hear from you, mysterious anon. I'm happy to have you as a reader and fandom friend.

Thank you for reaching out! I definitely love your requests! It'll just take me a while to get to all of them with my busy schedule, but I will write them in due course.

Have a lovely night and a good morning!

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 1: The Sun God

Part 2: The Tonic 

Part 3: The Ending Song

Domestic: The Doctor returns to spend a few ‘human’ days with you {Set during Part 3}

Part 4: The Dream 

Part 5: The Regeneration

Part 6: The Lost Shoes

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act

Finale: All Of Time And Space

A Merchant Sailor: Pretending to be a merchant, you befriend Will Turner as you keep your pirating a secret, until your brother forces you to reveal the truth

Blacksmith’s Hands: While visiting Tortuga, you find yourself injured and in the capable hands of a shy Will Turner

Lovey Dovey: Jack has never been overjoyed at the thought of you and your boyfriend - especially when you’re kissing on his ship

Sea Salt: On a mission to get you back, more might happen between you two than expected

[lesbianboyfriend]

hi jules <3

here we go again, that's what you get, brick by boring brick, and hard times for the paramore ask game?

hiii my love!!

here we go again: have you written a letter recently? who was the last person you wrote to?

i want to get into letter writing but i have not….also ever since i read the cecilia and kate series as a kid ive wanted to play the game where you write letters back and forth in character to tell a story. anyways the last physical letter i wrote was probably to my self, the last significant piece of writing i wrote to someone was pry an email i sent to my beloved mutual kitty a few months ago hi kitty if you’re seeing this ily

that’s what you get: do you usually follow your heart or your brain?

my brain and its always saying STOP DANGER DO NOT PASS

brick by boring brick: favourite fairytale?

ummm i have three. the little mermaid, the goose girl, and twelve dancing princesses

hard times: name a song you relate to

one time in high school someone who i was friends with but not super close to by any means sent me the song football by another michael and said “you vibes” and then i listened to the song and was like 😧. she was right but it was crazyyy to have this person just out of the blue say “i listened to this song about feeling deeply isolated and it reminded me of you”

[j1nx-xyz]

Woo I'm not dead

August 31 2023

Listen I honestly forgot about this account so I haven't written in so long, so now I get to make a long post on my life updates (also ignoring the scary-ass clown staring at me on my homepage)

I don't remember what I wrote last so we will start with a big change. I dropped R (will not be using names) and I seemed to change for the better after that, well I think changed a lot. Though recently they started being a bitch, yk that Lana del Rey audio, it goes like "I win" at the end and they had the audacity to put "you blocked me" "I win" like excuse me actually I blocked you second because I didn't want you on my account and now you make it to be like some big achievement??? It's really not but yeah. you go bro. also after some more looking into things, (let me add context first) there were these two account both matching user and pfps and were on my partners account harassing them so I was like "Oh they have T's name in it ill ask R" asked them, they apparently knew nothing so I was like "ask T" apparently T didn't know though her name was in the user so I asked her personally and she was being a bitch about it and I was like "chill it was a question" now I would of stopped bugging her until she screenshotted the chat, like why would you do that if you knew nothing??? but anyways, found out one of those accounts commented under R video so that cleared everything, they did know them. honestly hate how they are starting shit.

Moving on. I think since you know I now have no friends in my school I can actually focus on work since its my last year, I also have been trying to improve talking to people and actually keeping a routine since my skincare went to shit one day and I didn't know why. i start school soon so I may not find time to carry this on but I want to. I've got to actually sign up for college too soon... probably going into photography or art but most likely photography. I'm getting a whole computer setup so I wont be hunched over my laptop like I am right now typing this, I do find being able to rant like this fun even if no one will read it.

Oh my friend J asked me to join a band they are making, I'm being guitar but i only have acoustic and prefer electric but it'll have to do, they sent us a really fast pace song like... I'm using acoustic??? but its okay i can figure it out, oh i have a DnD session with them tomorrow which i totally forgot about and now i cant go shopping with my mum but its okay.

I should finish up so i can go play on my ps with C and possibly other C (Maybe I should come up with nicknames for this)

[dancingaliensfics]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

[prettyboybarzal]

lessons in romance // nate mackinnon x reader

summary: nate mackinnon is really bad at keeping a steady girlfriend. so bad that’s become somewhat of a joke between him and the boys. but you come along and try to set him straight.

word count: 14k+

author’s note: it’s finally here. i’m honestly surprised at how fast i cranked this out... which is actually a LOT longer than most people write on here so mayb i shouldn’t brag lmao! this fic was inspired by THIS gifset. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE give me feedback/reblog!!!!!!

warnings: smut (i jumped out of my comfort zone people. i finally wrote some lmfao) & mentions of a past toxic ex

Weekends were better spent in bed or visiting family, not sitting in a crowded bar with men who reminded you slightly of your ex-boyfriend. You were probably overreacting a little bit because the guys truly meant well, but their overly boy-ish energy was startlingly similar to that of your ex. Maybe a few more drinks would help the cause and you could get passed the sex jokes.

Mel Landeskog was the reason you were there. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, much like her husband, and so you were sitting across the booth from some of the largest men you’d ever seen in your life. Gabe gave you the rundown of their names as they arrived though the only one you could remember was Cale. He was a perpetually blushing 21-year-old named after a vegetable; how could you forget him?

“Do you think Nate’s upset about this one?” Cale asked. The new topic of conversation was their friends’ disastrous date since he texted to tell them he was broken up with and was on his way to them. “They were sort of serious.”

“We’re about to find out,” Gabe announced, nodding towards the entrance of the bar. Nate was on his way to the booth, tired smile on his lips. As he got closer, he started shaking his head and the table erupted in chirps at his expense.

You recognized him from earlier at the Landeskog’s pregame. He was slipping out of the front door as you stepped in. His cologne was the type the good-looking guys always wear, and you weren’t disappointed when you looked up at him. He was handsome with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his elbows and the top three buttons undone, and when he smiled, you all but swallowed your tongue.

He began to greet his teammates. The chain around his neck caught the light of the DJ booth and you found yourself gazing at it. You tore your eyes away from the gold at the sound of Mel’s voice introducing you.

“This is my girlfriend, YN, from my Saturday morning Cycle class,” she said. “And, YN, this is my husband’s boyfriend, Nate MacKinnon.”

He threw his head back in a laugh at Mel’s joke as he extended a hand to you. “Nice to meet you.”

You listened to the quips from his teammates, each one with their own opinion about Nate’s relationship or lack thereof. It seemed like this wasn’t the first time in recent months that he’d been broken up and it had become somewhat of a spectacle to the boys. Mel, who’d seen this song and dance one too many times, wrapped her fingers around your elbow and tugged you with her towards the bar.

“What was that about?”

“Nate can’t hold down a girlfriend,” she explained. “It’s been a joke since he first came here because they almost all have the same issue with him.”

“And what is that?”

“He’s not romantic enough.”

You glanced back over your shoulder and watched the boys laughing amongst each other. It looked like they were celebrating as they lifted their beers in a sad looking toast, and it hit you right where it hurt.

You really saw your ex-boyfriend in the group now and, though you tried not to make assumptions, you found it hard to set the first impression aside. The liquor in your system didn’t help. With each joke about his dating misadventures, you became less of a fan of him and by the end of the night you were bubbling over in annoyance.

Gabe and Mel offered Nate a ride home towards the end of the night and you managed to keep your expression neutral when he accepted. As they headed out to grab the car, you and Nate waited at the curb several feet away from each other.

“I’m sorry about your break up,” you offered after a moment of silence. The statement came out more like a question and Nate’s lips quirked up into a smirk at the inflection of your voice. “Sorry, I just can’t tell if you’re upset or not, so I don’t know if I should even offer my condolences.”

“I’m, uh, I’m not upset,” he began. “I saw it coming.”

“How so?”

“Let’s just say this isn’t the first time a girl’s broken up with me for not being romantic enough,” he said. Thoughts were filling your head faster than you could make sense of them. There was no reason for the situation to annoy you as much as it did. You didn’t know this guy and the odds that you ever saw him again were slim.

“So, if it’s not the first time, why hasn’t anything changed?”

“Excuse me?” he asked. There was a crease between his eyebrows. He hadn’t been expecting you to respond like that. You shouldn’t have. It wasn’t your business

“I mean, you act like a martyr when you probably would be successful in love if you just put in the romantic effort these girls are craving,” you said. Your anger had begun to boil over and words were spilling from your mouth faster than you could stop them. “Guys like you are the worst. You lead girls on and make them think they’re special. Next thing they know, they’ve been wasting time on you and your lack of effort.”

The comment made Nate take a step away from you. His eyebrows drew together in shock and confusion. As you spoke, he turned his body to you and crossed his arms over his chest. The moment you closed your mouth, he interjected. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” you argued, turning to him. You were in a stand-off with a man several inches taller than you, and to any passerby it probably looked a little bit funny, but you weren’t backing down. “I know guys like you. I’ve dated guys like you.”

Before Nate could continue arguing, the Landeskogs pulled up to the curb. Mel hollered out for you two and the topic of conversation was dropped.

---

You regretted everything you said to Nate the moment you woke up the morning after. It wasn’t like you to be so rude, especially not to someone you didn’t know. Your heart stopped every time Mel texted you in the days following. You thought that at any moment she’d confront you about what you said to him, but it never came. As the week carried on, you found yourself forgetting the harsh words spoken outside the bar and the worry stopped.

Until Thursday night.

The knock at your apartment door was unexpected. You met your roommate, Mara’s, narrowed eyes over the dirty dishes you were working on. By the look on both your faces, neither one of you had a guest on the way over. She turned on her heel to check the peephole and the next look she gave you was equally as confusing as the previous one. She still opened the door.

“Does YN live here?”

The voice sent shockwaves through your veins and you stopped your movements, plates held just above your head as you were about to slide them into the cabinet. Nate MacKinnon was at your apartment. Mara nodded at him slowly before stepping back to let him in.

“Hi,” he greeted. His hands were tucked into his sweatshirt pocket, legs clad in compression leggings and a pair of shorts. He looked like he’d just come from a workout and his hair was still wet from the shower he’d taken before coming over. “I hope you don’t mind. Gabe gave me your address.”

“No problem,” you told him through a shaky breath. “Come in. Come sit at the island.”

He removed his shoes and approached slowly, sending Mara one last smile as she crept off down the hall. You silently cursed her for leaving you with your shaking hands as you cleared the clutter from the countertop. You watched him as he settled into the stool across from you, mirroring the kind smile he was sharing with you.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? I have food, too, if you’re hungry.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. His voice was softer now than it had been before. “I wanted to talk to you about the other night. It won’t take long.”

“Oh?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your stomach dropped. You wanted to start apologizing right then. You didn’t have a reason to go and butt into his personal life like you had. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. Guys like him didn’t care about your opinions. “I’m sorry for what I said. When I get drunk, I have the tendency to shoot off at the mouth.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. Your mouth snapped shut. “No one keeps me in check. All the guys think the fact that I can’t keep a girlfriend is a big joke because I’m so bad at dating. It shouldn’t be a joke. So, I’m sorry and thank you.”

You dropped your hands to the counter and leaned against it. The last thing you expected was for Nate to thank you, so you needed a moment to gather your thoughts. His eyes glistened as he watched you and then the corner of his lip quirked up because you started giggling.

“You should not be thanking me,” you said. With that simple statement, the tension in the air lifted. You turned your back on him, indicating that if the conversation must go on, you were going to be doing the dishes as well. “I was just being bitter the other night.”

“You had every right to be,” he said. “I was gloating.”

“You were kind of gloating,” you mumbled. You hadn’t meant for Nate to hear, and he knew that, but he laughed anyway. You turned to face him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he said. He didn’t even know why you were apologizing at that point. It seemed like you’d apologize for taking up space and that made him feel a bit sad. He smiled politely at you anyway, to signal he wasn’t annoyed by the apologies, and it lit up his features in a way you hadn’t noticed the other night. “Anyway, I came here for a reason.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to teach me to be romantic.”

He delivered it tentatively, as though he was afraid of the way you might react. In the split second that followed, your mouth open and closed twice as every possible response came to your mind. He waited patiently.

Finally, “You don’t even know me. How can you be so sure that I’m the right person to teach you this stuff?”

“You’re a girl,” he explained, deadpan. “Girls know romance.” You snorted at how adorably dumb he was. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth in embarrassment and your cheeks burned as he grinned at you, amused by the sound of your laugh. “What do you say?”

---

Mondays were always your least favorite day of the week. Every weekend, your workload piled up and most Mondays you could hardly take a lunch break because you were so busy getting shit done. Whenever you came home from work on Mondays, you were wiped. Mara always made sure to have dinner ready for you when you got in, and the two of you often sat on the couch while eating those nights.

That Monday, you were sure that you’d be in bed before the Bachelor even started. But then Nate showed up unannounced. Mara was in the middle of washing the dishes this time, so you were the one to open the door. He greeted you with a goofy smile and a large electrical wire. Without a word, you stepped to the side and he was kicking off his shoes to enter the living room. Mara caught the roll of your eyes as you followed him.

He was standing beside the television when you entered the room. The wire he’d brought with him was connected to his cellphone while he found a port for the other end. You sat at the corner of sectional and waited, yawns escaping your mouth every minute or so. The day had been long enough already.

Suddenly, the television lit up with his cellphone background on full display. He held it up to show you, a grin present on his face.

“I need your help,” he began. He tapped one of the dating apps on his home screen and immediately you were regretting letting him in. You realized he wasn’t leaving any time soon as he unraveled the cord and plopped down beside you on the couch. Mara entered the room, eyes catching on the beautiful brunette woman on the screen, and then she gave Nate a curious look. “Come on, Mara. Join us.”

An amused smile came to her lips as she sat on the other end of the couch.

“I am not swiping for you,” you grunted, rubbing at your eyes. “I have no interest in judging girls off these apps.”

“Relax, YN,” he said. “I’m not asking you to play matchmaker. Just help me talk to this girl.”

“You need help talking to girls?” Mara asked as she gave him the once over. You laughed out loud while Nate blushed.

“I don’t need help,” he began. He turned his attention back to the television and pulled up the profile of a beautiful brunette woman. “I just don’t want to come on too strong, or douche-y. This girl is perfect and I wanna take her out.”

“Can you two make this quick?” Mara asked. “The Bachelor’s on tonight.”

“And my bed is calling my name.”

Nate peered at you over his shoulder. He smiled at your tired eyes, drooping as you leaned your head on your hand. He leaned back, stopping inches from your face and said, “I’ll make it quick.”

To your surprise, and Mara’s delight, he reached up and ran his hand over your hair before turning back to the television. He gave a rundown about the girl on the television, but his words went in one ear and out the other. Your glazed eyes watched as he typed out messages to her, and you laughed when Mara made fun of the way he was talking. (“Why the fuck are you talking like that? Are you her father?”) Finally, he turned on you.

“Are you gonna help or what, love doctor?”

“Give me the phone,” you said, extending your hand. He plopped it into your palm and watched you type out the message on the television screen. It took you less than a minute to type out a sweet message asking the girl out on a date before you were shoving the phone back into his hand. “You overthink too much.”

“That’s it?”

“Short and sweet,” you noted with a shrug. “I’d say yes.”

Nate’s eyes cut to you and you felt a chill run down your spine at the intensity behind them. Mara cleared her throat as you diverted your attention from him, shaking the feeling you got from his baby blues. She smiled sweetly at the two of you. “Can I detach your phone from our TV now? It’s almost time for Bach.”

You peeled yourself off the couch and headed to the bathroom to wash your face before changing into sweats and a t-shirt. You returned to the living room to find Nate with his feet up on the coffee table. Mara had tuned the television to ABC and the Bachelor recap was playing. He looked up as you entered and frowned.

“Stay out here a little bit longer,” he proposed, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “We’ll watch some of this and see if she says yes to the date.”

“Nate, I’m exhausted.”

“C’mon.”

You couldn’t say no, not when he was pouting like that. So, you rolled your eyes and walked around the couch to plop down in the spot you’d been before. Before long, your eyes were closing and you couldn’t keep them open any longer.

Nate didn’t realize you fell asleep, but he didn’t mind when you leaned against his arm as a pillow. He stiffened for a moment, unsure of what to do, but a soft snore escaped your lips and he found himself smiling down at your peaceful face. He didn’t move for the rest of the episode because he was too nervous to wake you. When the credits began to roll, he dropped a hand to your knee and shook you lightly.

Your eyes opened, bleary from sleep, and you found that you’d fallen asleep on him. You jerked away, realizing that it was probably too close for comfort, and smiled apologetically. He returned the smile before standing and gathering his things from the coffee table.

“Get some sleep,” he said on his way to the front door. You hummed in response, following him to the door to say a proper goodbye and lock up. He pulled you into a hug before going, shocking you once again by with how gentle he was despite hardly knowing you.

“Did she say yes?” you asked as he pulled away from the hug. “I almost forgot to ask.”

“Yeah, she did.”

---

Lesson #1: The First Date

In the chaos of the week that followed, you’d almost forgotten that you promised Nate your assistance before the date. You weren’t used to being accountable for someone else like you were now, so it wasn’t surprising.

“There is a man at reception asking for you.”

The office receptionist, Debby, was standing in the doorway with a giddy smile on her lips. You knew immediately from the look in her eye that the man at the front desk was going to be the talk of the office for a week.

You stood, following her out the door of your office and down the hall. As you rounded the corner to reception, you saw Nate leaning against the desk. He was sucking on a mint from the bowl in front of him and smiled wide when he saw you.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have my date tonight, remember?” he asked. One glance at your watch told you that you worked a little too late. You cursed under your breath, turning quickly to head back to the office and send one last email. Nate hesitated, but ultimately decided to follow you down the hallway. He eyed the pencil skirt you were wearing, eyes lingering a little too long on your ass. He shook his head from his trance, knowing damn well that he was just asking for trouble.

Nate lingered in the doorway of your office for a moment before his eyes landed on a picture frame across the room that caught his attention. It was a marble frame without a photo like it had been removed and never replaced. He picked the frame up and turned it over in his hands, then turned to you.

“You need a picture.”

“What?” you asked, eyes still trained on the screen. They flickered up to see what he was talking about and then got right back to work. “Used to be a picture of me and my ex. Nobody’s important enough to put in.”

Nate placed the frame down. He felt a pang of sadness for you in that moment, but distracted himself by moving onto the next shelf and playing with some of the desk games on it. He was in the middle of fiddling with your Rubiks cube when you stood from the computer.

“You’re wearing that?” you asked. Nate winced at the question, glancing down at the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing. When he looked back up, you were wearing a shit eating grin. “I’m fucking with you.”

“Jesus, YN.” He clutched his heart and released a deep breath. You rounded the desk and grabbed your jacket from the hook. As you swung it over your shoulders, Nate stepped up to help. You slipped your arms through the arm holes trying to suppress the flair up of butterflies in your stomach.

When you reached the sidewalk outside the building, you led him down the block to a florist. Their window displays were your favorite in the city and you often found yourself going out of the way to peak at them on shitty days. You daydreamed about the day someone bought you a bouquet from there specifically.

The bell above the door rang as you stepped in. The smell of fresh flowers hit your nose and you sniffed it in happily. You grinned back at Nate and he felt a tug at his heart at your excitement.

“Can I help you?”

You bounded over to the woman behind the counter, Nate following behind you a little awkwardly. You gave him an expectant look and then his brain finally caught up with the question. As he leaned forward to look at the flowers in the case in front of you, his hand pressed against the small of your back.

“What would you get?” he asked curiously. You took a sharp intake of breath at the lack of space between you and pulled away to look at the flowers.

“Sunflowers and baby’s breath are my favorites.”

Nate smiled at the woman behind the counter and repeated what you’d just said, adding, “It’s for a first date, so I don’t need it too big or anything.”

You laughed at his explanation, and then the blush that come to his cheeks when he realized how silly he sounded. Neither of you noticed the confused look on the florist’s face. She was about to comment on how cute the two of you were, and in hindsight she was glad she kept her mouth shut. He reached out and squeezed your arm as a warning to stop teasing him. You stepped away completely, still smiling stupidly as he turned to pay.

“I’d’ve put roses in there too,” you told him once you were back on the sidewalk. “But this is only a first date. It might’ve been a little intense.”

“Roses?” he asked. You hummed in response, plucking the flowers out of his hand as you continued in the direction of the restaurant he was meeting his date at. “Good to know, you know, for the future.”

The walk to the date spot was only about ten minutes long and most of it was spent talking about your plans for the weekend as opposed to his date. He was going to be away with the team and you had plans to visit family. You kept thinking to yourself that you needed to stop getting distracted by him and his good looks and his sweet disposition. He was dating someone, and that person was not and would not be you, but he kept surprising you with the way he weaseled himself into your life.

“We’ll have to hang out next week sometime, then,” he said, snatching the flowers back out of your hand playfully. You nodded, but you were taken by surprise. It didn’t make sense that he’d want to hang around you without getting something out of it, whether it was dating advice or something more. Clearly, Nate didn’t care and you were beginning to wonder if maybe you’d get a beautiful friendship out of this nonsense.

“Any last-minute advice?”

“Don’t say anything dumb,” you said to him, emboldened by the realization that you might actually be friends now. Nate laughed out loud. “You think I’m just being funny, but sometimes you say stupid shit.”

“Jeeze,” he muttered. “Way to fuck up my self-esteem right before a date.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes and came to a stop just before the crosswalk he’d be using. He slowed to a stop as well, the bouquet of flowers falling to his side as he looked down at you. You reached out to right them with an amused smile. “Careful with these.”

“Got it, boss.”

You stalled a moment more, gazing at the flowers. You almost felt jealous of the girl going to dinner with Nate because those flowers would look perfect in a vase on your dining room table. “God, I really hope she appreciates those.”

The tone of your voice took Nate by surprise. It sounded a little sad, and full of yearning, and he felt kind of bad that he’d be walking away with the flowers you’d been admiring the entire walk from the florist. Even so, you said your goodbyes and he watched you turn on your heel to head home. He felt stuck in place, eyes trained on your retreating frame while his feet were cemented to the sidewalk. Before he could second guess himself, and his motives, he called out your name.

“Wait, YN!” When you turned, he was halfway down the sidewalk to you and, once he was within arm’s length, he plucked a sunflower from the bouquet and extended it. “For you.” Your cheeks felt red hot as your fingers curled around the stem. You hoped he couldn’t notice a blush. If he did, he didn’t make it known and left with a simple, “I’ll talk to you later.”

A stupid smile sat on your lips the entire way home. You felt the thumping of your heart long after you’d entered your place and placed the flower in the dining table vase. No matter what you found yourself doing that night, Nate remained at the back of your mind. You swore to yourself that it was because you wondered how his date was going, nothing more. But, when your eyes kept finding their way to the sunflower on the dining room table, you worried that maybe the reason you couldn’t stop thinking about him was something more.

---

You grabbed dinner with Mel the next Tuesday. Because of your trip to visit family, the two of you agreed to take a week off and reschedule some sort of get together for Tuesday. Gabe was home so he’d be with Linnea, and you were just happy that it wasn’t Monday. She was in the middle of a story when your phone lit up beside you; Nate’s name was on full display.

When’s our next lesson?

You snatched the phone off the table and away from Mel’s prying eyes, hoping that it wouldn’t peak her curiosity. The movement itself was enough to stir her, though, and Mel was soon leaning forward to see what was going on. She reached out and pushed the phone down, craning her neck to read the text.

“Next lesson?” she asked, eyebrow quirking. “Who is this?”

“It’s Nate MacKinnon.”

You said it so quickly and so nonchalant that Mel actually continued picking at her brunch before she reacted. Her fork clattered to the plate. “Did you just say Nate MacKinnon?”

“This,” you began gesturing at her wild eyes and wicked smile, “is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“Why?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Because I’m totally going to take this and run with it?” You dropped your face in your hands. “You should go for it. He’s a little dumb, but mostly cute. You definitely have the patience to deal with him though.”

“Mel, it’s not like that at all,” you told her. “I’m helping him learn how to be more romantic.” Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline in shock. “I’m serious. You know just as well as I do that he’s bad dating. He asked for my help after we met. I have enough experience with douchebags to tell him what not to do.”

“You sure do,” Mel agreed. You laughed at her response and an easy smile spread across her face. “Maybe teaching him a thing or two about how to be romantic will remind you of what you deserve.”

You sighed, picking up the coffee in front of you to take a sip. Mel knew better than anyone, besides Mara, how shitty the guys in your life had been. She met your ex last year just before your break up and she hated him from the moment you introduced the two. He never deserved you and her heart broke the longer you spent wasting your time on him. When you finally ended it, she was your biggest supporter.

You left the message unanswered, not wanting to give her anymore ammo in what was sure to be her new mission. When she got up to head to the bathroom before the check came, you opened the message from him. The last conversation was from Saturday night and he was letting you know that the girl he’d gone out with was looking forward to their next date.

What do you need help with now?

Do you know how to cook?

---

Lesson #2: A Homemade Meal

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to cook,” you grunted as soon as Nate pulled his apartment door open on Friday night. The grin on his face was anything but apologetic and you pushed past him with two large grocery bags in hand. You brought them to the kitchen and began unpacking them onto the counter.

“I do know how to cook, by the way,” he said, stepping up beside you to help you remove everything from the bags. You eyed him skeptically. “Mostly just the basic meats and vegetables.”

“You can’t cook a date your pregame meal.”

Nate knew that. He wasn’t that stupid, but he did love saying stupid shit around you. You tended to roll your eyes at him, but your lips always gave away how you really felt about his stupidity. The right side always curled up into a smirk, like you were trying to fight the laughter bubbling in your chest. He loved it when you did that.

“Is this, like, a meal your ex used to make?” he asked after grabbing some spices from the cabinet. You were grateful that his back was turned because the easy smile on your lips disappeared at the reminder of him. You busied yourself with the pot of water on the stove and set it to boil.

“No, my ex never actually made dinner for me,�� you answered in a poor attempt to keep your voice steady.

Nate stopped prepping the meat and turned to face you. Questions sat on the tip of his tongue, begging for him to ask, but you wouldn’t look at him. He felt a little bit angry at your confession, though he couldn’t quite place why. Admittedly, he had been that boyfriend before – the one that didn’t cook dinner. Now, he was mad at himself for ever being that guy.

When you didn’t turn to look at him, he dropped the subject. You worked in silence, you busy with the pasta and him with the chicken. As you waited for the food to be ready, you hiked yourself up onto the counter. Nate grabbed a bottle of red wine from the end of the counter and poured glasses for the both of you.

He stood across from you with a dish towel over his shoulder and his own glass of wine in his palm. He asked about work and you filled him in on all the hot office gossip. The smile on his face didn’t fall once as he listened to your stories, and he never tried to change the subject or take over the conversation for himself. After a while, you stopped.

“I’ve been talking forever.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been enjoying it,” he told you. You laughed. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall in your office.”

Feeling a bit bolder, you kicked your foot out and nudged his side. “Maybe I can take you to bring your pet to work day.”

Nate’s jaw dropped, a reaction you weren’t expecting, and you began laughing hysterically at his surprise. He placed his wine glass down beside him and took a step closer, wrapping a hand around your ankle to tug you closer to the edge of the counter. You yelped in surprise.

“Pet?” he asked. You wiggled your foot out of his grasp, giggles falling from your lips as he dropped his hand to his side. The oven started beeping, interrupting whatever moment you were having before it could continue. “Saved by the bell.”

“Looks good, Nate,” you praised as he pulled it out of the oven. “My mouth is watering.”

“Go sit down,” he ordered. “You have to evaluate my presentation and make sure I look good.”

Nate entered shortly after you sat down and placed the plates on either side of the table with a smile. He slipped back out and returned with the wine. There was mischievous glint in his eyes as he topped your glass off and added to his.

“How is it?” he asked, leaning back. A look of cockiness flashed over his features and you felt it in your stomach when you looked at the way his arms were crossed and his biceps filled out the sleeves of his t-shirt. You picked up your utensils and cut into the meal, picking up a bit of each piece before putting it in your mouth.

Nate leaned forward eagerly. He watched your eyes light up when the flavor hit your tongue and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You nodded emphatically as you swallowed your first forkful. He cut into his own meal and the moment he took a bite, he moaned. The meal was so good that conversation was sparse and, by the end, it looked like your plates had been licked clean.

You didn’t stop Nate from filling your glasses again, though you figured you should have. The third glass always lowered your inhibitions.

“How pissed off would you be if I asked you about your ex?”

“Not pissed off,” you answered. You took a sip of the wine, then leaned your cheek in your palm as you spoke. “What do you want to know?”

Nate sat up at this, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t prepared himself with a question because he didn’t think you’d give him the go ahead. He let out a tuft of breath, took a sip from his glass, and thought. Finally, he asked, “Why’d you break up?”

“How long do you have?”

“As long as you need,” he answered. His voice was soft, comforting, and you felt yourself relax into the question.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to break up with him,” you began. “And, if I didn’t have friends like Mel and Mara, I might still be with him. Things have changed now, though. I realize what a crap human being he was but, if I stayed with him, I don’t think I would’ve realized how much better I deserved.”

“Did you fight a lot?”

“Do I seem like the fighting type?” you teased. He shook his head. “He did enough fighting for the both of us. He would yell at me for no reason sometimes, just because he felt like it.”

Nate was angry. His features were contorted in distaste as you told him about your ex. Even though you tried to make light of the situation with a few light-hearted jokes, Nate couldn’t find it within in him to react with laughter. You deserved so much better than what you’d been given.

“When I broke up with him, Mara was there. We packed my things and moved it all out. I was going to leave a note, but he came home from work early and caused a scene. He went out the night after and sent me all these videos and pictures of him out with his friends. They were flipping me off, girls were draped all over him, etcetera. I blocked him the next morning and I haven’t seen him since. That was over a year ago.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, dropping his head in his hands. He felt ashamed. “That’s why you yelled at me.”

“Yep,” you answered. “Emotions got the best of me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Silence filled the room and you felt vulnerable. You didn’t share the story about your tumultuous relationship often, but with Nate it just slipped out. You grabbed your glass from the table and finished it off.

“I’m not staying for another,” you announced. Nate sat back, his face flashing with an offended expression. As you gathered the plates from the table, you tried to ignore the knots in your stomach that were becoming more and more prevalent when he was around. “Nothing good ever happens after the third glass. But, if I was your real date, I would definitely stay for a fourth and you would probably get to kiss me at the end of the night simply for how good that meal was.”

The words fell from your lips so easily that it shocked you and you hoped that the playful tone of your voice wouldn’t scare him off. You gathered yourself before turning back to look at him. He was still sitting at the table, chair pushed back with one arm over the back of it. The way he was looking at you was lethal, eyes drinking you in as you stood in his kitchen. You couldn’t tell if you were imagining the tension or it was real.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said finally. You grabbed your bag from the counter and pulled it over your shoulder as you headed for the door. Nate stood then to walk you out, pulling the door open as you slipped into your sneakers. “It was delicious.”

“Thank you for teaching me how to cook something actually good,” he said. “Poor girl would’ve been eating chicken and vegetables or pasta if you hadn’t come by.”

“Can’t let that happen, can we?” you asked. “Let me know how dinner goes.”

Nate leaned down, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you into a warm embrace. You melted into his arms as yours came up and around his neck. For a moment, the two of you just stood there in each other’s arms. You wondered if he could feel the beat of your chest again him. It sped up as his hands flattened against your back, crossing over each other to engulf you completely.

“I’m not that kind of guy,” he said. He leaned his cheek on the top of your head and his chest rumbled beneath your own cheek as he spoke. “You know that, right?”

Your blinked away tears before he couldn’t notice then and nodded in response to his question.

When he pulled back, he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek and his lips caught the corner of your mouth. An electric shock coursed through your bloodstream and you pulled back quick before offering one last smile and tossing a goodbye over your shoulder.

---

Nate called you the next Friday night with plans for Saturday.

“Mel and Gabe invited a bunch of the guys over and she told me I should see what you were doing tomorrow.” he said. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you much since last week. The guys would love to meet you.”

“Meet me?” you asked. “So, it’ll be more than just the ones I know?”

“A few more,” he answered with a laugh. “They’ll love you, okay? I’ll be at your place to get you at 5:30.”

It was the first time you were going to see him since you made dinner together last Friday. You exchanged a few texts throughout the week, but nothing of substance. You knew his dinner date went well, though you didn’t know to what extent. You found yourself wondering if she stayed for that additional glass of wine after dinner, or if she stayed for the night after.

He showed up to your apartment wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. You welcomed him in while you went back to your room to get your heels on. He gaped at the dress you were wearing as soon as you had your back to him. His eyes wandered over your curves as you bent to grab your heels from the floor in your bedroom. When your dress slid up your thighs, he had to force himself to look away.

You tried to get more details about his dinner date out of him on the way to Mel’s, but he kept quiet. She liked dinner, she stayed for an extra glass of wine, and then she went home at the end of the night. An invisible weight lifted from your shoulders upon hearing she didn’t stay the night and you settled back into his passenger seat.

Nate noticed the way you relaxed into the seat and tore his eyes from the road for just a moment to sneak a peek at you. You were watching the world go by from the window, unaware that he was even looking at you. When he turned his attention back to the road, all he could think about was his sweaty palms and accelerated heartrate. Why did he care so much about what you thought?

Everyone was already at the house when you pulled up. The two of you walked up the driveway, his hand against your lower back much like it had been in the florist. Mel opened the door, lunging to sweep you into her arms and whisk you to the kitchen, her husband and your, well, Nate left behind.

“Thanks for having me, Mel.”

She handed you a drink complete with a salted rim and said, “I’m glad Nate asked if you could come.”

“Nate asked?” you repeated. She affirmed with a nod and ushered you to join the others in the living room while she and Gabe finished dinner.

You swore half the team was there, which meant not one seat was open on their couch. As you passed Nate, he grabbed your hand and sat you on the arm of his chair. He pulled your legs over his lap and began introducing you to the boys you didn’t already know.

You caught Cale’s eyes and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Out of everyone in the room, he was the only one making note of the lack of space between you two. Though you weren’t technically sitting in his lap, it still felt a little inappropriate. Nate’s hand was like fire where it rested against your thigh and you had to remind yourself to stop peeking at the placement.

Nate lied about your invitation to dinner, and for what? He could’ve just invited you himself instead of disguising it as a joint decision between him and Mel. What was he so afraid of that he couldn’t man up and admit he wanted you there? Better yet, why didn’t he ask Gianna?

You somehow ended up seated away from Nate at the dinner table. Cale settled in on one side of you and EJ occupied the other. Across from you sat JT and Tyson, bickering as always. You don’t know how you ended up separated from Nate, but you welcomed it because you needed the breathing room.

The meal was delicious, but Nate couldn’t even enjoy it because you were so far away. He was going to get fucking whiplash because of the way he kept looking back to see who you were talking to or hear what you were laughing at. How did he even end up this far down from you?

On the other hand, he couldn’t stop the smile that kept creeping up to his lips when he saw you with his teammates. They loved you, probably almost as much as he did, and he was proud to have you by his side that night. But then came the harsh reality that you weren’t actually his to show off.

When the party relocated, he made sure to slide up next to you on the way to the couch. EJ’s laughter mocked him, but you didn’t catch on to his teammate’s playful ribbing. With Gabe and Mel’s eyes in the room, he didn’t pull you over his lap and opted to lower his arm over the back of the couch instead. There were just inches between your skin and his but, after having you on his lap earlier, it felt like miles.

Drinking games were played, stories were shared, and you all left the house with full bellies and large smiles. Nate was driving, so he eased up on the drinks after dinner. You, on the other hand, were feeling just as free as you did after three glasses of wine at his place last week, and feeling daring enough to ask him the question that’s been on your mind all night.

“Why did you tell me that Mel asked you to invite me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you invited me, you said that Mel told you to,” you explained in a slow voice as if you were breaking the situation down to a child. “But she said that you asked if you could invite me.”

“Why does it matter where the invite actually came from?” he asked. A slight panic was rising in his chest because he didn’t have an answer for you. This wasn’t supposed to come back around to you. “Everybody wanted you here anyway.”

“Why didn’t you ask Gianna?” you asked, stepping down to join him on the path to the driveway. He rolled his eyes at this, and you noted it because though you’d done it to him many times, he’d never done it to you. He began walking, so you followed. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Because I didn’t want to introduce her to everyone yet,” he answered. “You just fit in with us.”

Nate saw your face fall and decided not to push the conversation any farther. He said something wrong, but he didn’t know what. As far as he thought, he was complimenting you. He was complimenting how easy going you were, how his friends got along with you so easily. You were already a part of the group. It was great.

You continued along to the car in silence, not bothering to argue with him over a dumb comment. He wanted friends, so you were giving him friends, but the touches and the invite to team dinner was something more than friends. You needed distance. And he needed to figure his shit out, fast.

---

Lesson #3: Meeting the Friends

Something changed. When Nate dropped you off that night, he left you with a half-assed hug and a quiet goodbye. You couldn’t catch a wink of sleep that night because something changed. But then, Nate texted you tomorrow and tried to carry on as normal. Things weren’t normal.

And you knew that for sure when Nate didn’t invite you to EJ’s house the next weekend. Mel invited you instead and since you could never say no to Mel, you went. The thought of texting Nate to let him know passed briefly through your head, but the sheer fact that he hadn’t even bothered to talk to you about it in the first place was enough to decide against it.

When you entered EJ’s living room, you knew exactly why he hadn’t asked. Gianna was sitting on his lap, fingers curling through his hair as they talked. Anger rose in you no matter how hard you tried to suppress it. Just last week he said he didn’t want to bring her around and now she was here? Now she was here and he couldn’t even talk to you?

There was an uproar as Nate’s teammates noticed you standing in the doorway and Nate’s eyes cut to you in surprise. You lifted your hand in a pathetic wave before Cale was wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the kitchen.

“Who’s the girl with Nate?”

“His new girlfriend,” you answered, hoping that you didn’t sound bitter. “I don’t even know if that’s the right title for her, but they’ve been on a few dates.”

Cale let out a soft hum, his tone indecipherable, just as Tyson entered the room.

“What’s the deal with Nate’s new girl?” he asked as soon as he saw it was just you and Cale in the room. When you didn’t answer, he nudged you for an answer.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, she’s no you.”

---

Nate couldn’t help but ask himself, “What the fuck are you doing?”

As you were pulled into his teammates arms, he watched and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up and hug you too or if he just wanted to disappear. When Gianna’s fingers gripped his bicep, he decided he wanted the latter.

That’s when you looked at him, of course, and the smile that was on yours lips faded just a bit. At least, that’s what he thought. You lifted your hand in a wave before Cale was looping his arm around your shoulders and directing you towards the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Gianna asked, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He looked up at her with a simple answer. “One of our friends.”

Gianna kissed him and for the first time since he met you, Nate thought about what it would be like to kiss you instead. He brought her to EJ’s in a pathetic attempt to right the way he was feeling about you, but it only made it worse.

---

“Nate was weird last night,” Mel murmured after Cycle the next morning. You were waiting for her to say something. Since all the guys made comments the night before, you knew Mel was next. “Did you guys fight?”

“Fight? Me and Nate?” you repeated, stalling for time. “We didn’t fight.”

“What did you think of his girlfriend?”

“I actually didn’t get to talk to her,” you answered. You shrugged, giving the illusion that you didn’t care all that much even though you were fuming. After all the help you’d given him, he couldn’t be bothered to introduce you to her? And that wasn’t all. He hardly spoke to you all night, only entertaining conversations with you when someone else was around. You ended up spending most of the night with EJ.

“My sitter just bailed for tomorrow.” She’d been tapping away at her phone for a few minutes, no doubt panicking to Gabe. You watched her a moment longer as you wondered what her plans were for the next day. Then, it occurred to you.

“There’s a game tomorrow, right?” you asked. She nodded, still typing out messages to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “I can watch Linnea tomorrow. Don’t worry about finding a sitter.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She waved you off absentmindedly and continued talking, “Besides, I thought Nate had a ticket for you or something. Didn’t he ask you to go?”

“Tomorrow?” you said incredulously. “No, absolutely not. Isn’t it like a WAG game? It would make no sense for me to be there.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “I just thought that he told Gabe,” she paused and noticed your set jaw. You were clearly not Nate’s biggest fan at the moment, so she decided to tread carefully. “You know what? Nevermind. I would love it if you could watch Linnea.”

---

As expected, Linnea was an angel the next day. You spent the time lounging in their living room with the game on TV while you played together. She took a bottle in the middle of the game and you brought her to her nursery once she’d been burped to rock her to sleep. But, you couldn’t quite peel yourself from the chair to put her in her crib. She was sleeping so peacefully and for the first time in a while you felt calm, so you stayed with her in your arms long after she’d fallen asleep.

You didn’t know what time it was when Gabe and Mel got home, but you heard their car doors close. You waited for them to happen upon you in the nursery, so you were surprised when it was Nate that knocked at the door.

“Hi,” he whispered, stepping into the room. He studied the decorations as he approached the rocking chair you were sitting in. When he stepped up beside you and admired Linnea, you tried not to look up at him. You knew it wouldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach, but you did it anyway. He was smiling down at the peanut in your arms. “Mel and Gabe are in the kitchen. They saw you on the baby monitor and told me to come get you.”

“Okay, I’ll put her down and meet you in there.”

“I can wait for you,” he said, stepping away. You stood, cradling Linnea to the crib and then craning to put her down in the center. Nate was watching you intently from the doorway with an unreadable expression on his face.

He stepped out into the hallway first, but he wasn’t walking towards the kitchen. He stood, waiting for you to stepped out into the hallway and look at him. You gave him a half-assed smile, still feeling a little hurt that things had been so weird between you two, and he asked, “Are we okay?”

“We’re fine,” you answered. He wasn’t convinced, but you reached up and shoved him lightly to get him to move down the hall. He didn’t budge, hand coming up to grasp yours against his chest. The beating of his heart sat right at your fingertips. “How was your game?”

“It was good,” he answered. “I wish you were there.”

“Well, then, you should’ve asked me to come,” you said, quite boldly. His lips parted, but whether it was to speak or not you wouldn’t know because you were continuing down the hallway without him.

You slipped into the kitchen to find Mel, leaving the men on the couch in the living room. The moment you stepped in, she was turning to greet you with a smile. You hissed, “Are you behind this?”

“I mentioned you were babysitting, his eyes lit up, and Gabe was the one to invite him over.”

“Team effort?”

She feigned an apologetic smile before ushering you out to rejoin the boys. Gabe got the fire going and Mel curled in his chest once he settled back on the couch. You sat on the other end, legs extended towards Nate in the corner. You felt his eyes whenever there was a suspended silence. You knew he was thinking about you, and selfishly you relished in the attention.

“YN, did you know that Nate’s parents were visiting next weekend?” Gabe asked during a lull in conversation. Nate glared at him, but the Swede happily ignored his buddy at the center of the couch. His eyes cut to you.

“I didn’t,” you answered. “But that’ll be fun. I know how much you missed them.”

All he could offer was a stupid ‘yeah’ before Mel swooped in to save the entire group from a very awkward moment.

Nate was going to kill Gabe. He was going to kill Gabe, but first he had to make a decision. He knew exactly what he had to do. It felt like you were a thousand miles away, not only physically but emotionally. Gabe should’ve kept his mouth shut. He was going to have you meet his parents, he just hadn’t gotten the chance to ask. Now, he looked like a dick. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“I was going to tell you about my parents,” he said, practically chasing you down the driveway after you ducked out while he was in the bathroom. To his surprise, you stopped walking and waited for him to catch up. “Seriously.”

“It’s getting hard to believe that, Nate,” you said. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

Nate felt his heart sink. He began to rack his brain for a way to salvage the conversation, but it was too late by the time you reached your car. You stopped before opening the door to look up at him.

“You’re thinking too much.”

“I just—I know you’re upset with me,” he began. “I want to make it better. We haven’t really talked since EJ’s, and that’s on me.”

“Were you going to invite me today?” you asked. He gave you a curious look. “To the game. Mel mentioned something about it at Cycle. That you told Gabe you were thinking about giving your ticket to me.”

Nate ran his hand over his face. The Landeskogs had really gotten him into some trouble here, and he wasn’t sure it was accidental.

“You’re the one I wanted at the game,” he admitted. “I wanted to invite you, but I knew how bad it would look if I didn’t ask Gianna.”

“So, you invited her,” you concluded.

“No.”

You looked at him in shock, mouth agape, and asked, “You’d rather no one go than give the ticket to her?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” he grumbled. You threw your arms up in surrender, hoping the words would sink in. “I don’t know, YN.”

“Yes, you do,” you argued. He kept his mouth shut at that, knowing you had enough. You sighed heavily, allowing the conversation to roll off your back. “When are your parents going to be here?”

“Saturday morning.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“They’ll be at my game in the afternoon and then I was getting us a reservation for dinner,” he trailed off only momentarily. “I haven’t made it yet because I was going to invite you, but Gabe beat me to the punch in there.”

“What about Gianna?”

“YN, if I didn’t want her at my game, why would I want her to meet my parents?” he asked. He made it sound like you were asking the stupidest question in the world. But, he wasn’t answering the most important one. Was he breaking up with her? You wanted to ask, but part of you didn’t want the disappointment. He worried while you thought.

“I’m around on Saturday,” you answered. He smiled, and you forced one back. You hated the feeling between you two. The air between you had never been so stuffy and you wanted to clear it. “Anything else you wanna tell me before the Landeskogs do? Is Sid actually your long-distance girlfriend?”

Nate laughed loudly as he stepped away. He answered your question cryptically, “No, nothing to tell you right now. Not yet.”

---

Lesson #4: Meeting the Family

You planned to meet Nate at his apartment before dinner since his parents had gone to the hotel upon arrival. On the way, you picked up a box of pastries from your favorite bakery. You were taught to do little things for important people, and anyone who was important to Nate felt important to you. You tried not to think about the implications of having dinner with his parents, but it was hard to shake the nerves.

“What’s this?” he asked as soon as he opened the door. His finger slid over the logo on the top of the pastry box, eyes catching on the word bakery. When he looked up at you, his eyes were shining. “For me?”

“For your family,” you told him. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I thought maybe you heard about my break up and you were trying to comfort me,” he said like it wasn’t breaking news. “I’ll put these in the kitchen.”

“You broke up?” you asked, following him to the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway as he put the pastries on the counter. He nodded simply as he cleared some clutter from the countertop. You could see his muscles moving beneath his navy polo. Guiltily, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring the way the sleeves hugged his biceps or the wide expanse of his back and shoulders. “What happened, Nate?”

“We can talk about it later, alright?”

“Are you single or not?” you asked. Nate caught the frustration in your tone and he’d be lying if it didn’t make him want to kiss you right then. You needed to know what was going on with him, and that made him feel good about whatever was going on between you two.

Nate started to exit the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway beside you. You were crowded against his chest as he smiled down at you and answered, “Yeah, I’m single.”

You released a breath once he stepped out of the doorway. He slipped his shoes on while you stood nearly the front door. He caught the look on your face, a little scrunched up as you spaced out. You were thinking too much, worrying about what happened with him and Gianna. When he walked back over to the front door, he took you by the hips and said, “We can talk about it later, if you want. Right now, I just want to be with you and my family.”

---

“I’m nervous,” you admitted as Nate pulled up to valet outside the restaurant. He looked at you in shock. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” he promised. He reached over and dropped his hand to your thigh. You pouted at him, and his first instinct was to lean over the center console and kiss it off your lips. He knew better than to risk it all just before dinner, so he grabbed your hand and dropped a kiss to your palm instead. “You’ll be fine. No need to be nervous.”

A heavy sigh left your lips as he stepped out of the car. He rounded the front and opened the passenger door for you, grabbing your hand as you stepped out. After he handed his key to the valet, he laced his hands in yours and led you into the restaurant.

The MacKinnons were already at the table that had been reserved for them. There was uproar of cheers when they saw Nate walk in. You stole a peek at his face and the pure joy on it set your heart aflame. He dropped your hand as you approached the table to hug his parents and sister. They introduced themselves to you as well, sweeping you up in tight embraces like they had with Nate.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” they spoke as they hugged you.

Nate pulled your chair out from across his mother and then situated himself beside you. The menus were passed out and Nate whispered suggestions in your ear while his family members debated their own meals. She took the time to calm her nervous. Parents loved her, so there was no reason to freak out. Eventually the drinks were handed out, orders were taken, and the chaos at the table stopped.

“Now, how’d you two meet again?” his mom asked. You looked at each other, stupidly, both stammering in response until Nate got his shit together.

“We met through friends,” he answered simply. Then, his lips curled up and he said, “She yelled at me.” You dropped your face into your hands, embarrassed by the picture he was painting of you, but they took it in stride, laughing at your expression. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He continued, “As you guys know, I’ve been very unlucky in my personal life.” Sarah snorted at this. Their mother smacked her knee as a scolding. “I literally suck at being romantic and all the guys were joking around about it after I’d just been broken up with. YN called me out, so I asked her to teach me how to be romantic.”

“Well, what’d you learn?”

“How to cook a meal other than my pregame types, and I also have a new favorite florist,” he said. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and flipped it open to slip out their business card. You didn’t realize he grabbed one. “There are some other things, like her wine rule.”

“Wine rule?”

“Nothing good ever happens after the third glass of wine,” you explained. They laughed at that, though they seemed bewildered by your reasoning.

Nate elaborated, “It just means that if your date stays for a fourth glass, you’ll probably get lucky.”

This earned him a smack on the arm from both his sister and yourself.

Nate’s family was just as kind as he was and it was clear how much they all adored each other. You fit in seamlessly, at least that’s how it felt, and when they asked the waitress to take a picture of them, Nate tugged you into his side to keep you in the frame.

“Take one without me,” you urged him. He just shook his head, gazing down at the picture on his phone. He passed it off to his parents and sister for approval. “Nate.”

“I want you in the picture,” he whispered to you. His hand came up to the back of your neck and he pulled you in to place a chaste kiss to your temple. He pulled away, like kissing you in public and on the forehead was normal now, and asked, “How was your food?”

When you got back to his place after dinner, you presented his mother with the pastries and earned a hug and kiss on the cheek as a thank you. They settled into the kitchen as he made drinks, chatting as a family about the people back home and his life in Denver. You slipped out to go to the bathroom, and give them some alone time.

“I like her,” you overheard his mother say as soon as you slipped out of the kitchen. You slowed your steps on your pursuit to the bathroom even though you knew it would be best to keep walking. You couldn’t help but be a little nosy.

“That’s good to hear,” Nate said. You smiled to yourself. “I like her, too.”

---

Nate’s family only stayed for another hour before you were bidding them farewell from his front door. They squeezed you and thanked you for the pastries, and then began inviting you to visit before Nate had to shut it down. Your heart felt full after spending the night with them, but sitting alone in Nate’s apartment in anticipation of what was to come was scaring the shit out of you.

Your hands were a little shaky and your palms were definitely sweaty. There was change coming, change that was already present, and you were both excited and terrified for it. Nate reentered the apartment not long after. When he saw you sitting on the couch, he released a breath he’d been holding.

“Are you going to stay for another glass?” he asked after locking the door behind him. “That one’s only your second.”

You eyed his smile, heart beat stuttering a bit beneath his gaze, and lifted the glass to your lips to finished what was left. You nodded and followed him into the kitchen. While he filled both your glass and his, you picked yourself up onto the counter like you’d done so many times before.

“I did a bad thing,” he murmured after handing your glass back to you. You raised a brow at him as he reached over to one of the cabinets and opened it to reveal two pastries in a Ziploc bag. “I stole two of them from my mom.”

“Nate!” you exclaimed. He chuckled at your exasperation. “I can bring you to that bakery whenever you want! Your parents don’t live here! It was a gift!”

“And they have the other eleven pastries,” he argued. “They’re not going to miss two.”

Reluctantly, but still with a smile, you took a pastry from his hand. You bit into it at the same time, eyes lighting up at the taste. At the sight of each other’s faces, you were doubled over in laughter before you had the chance to swallow what was in your mouth. You looked away from him to regain composure and only looked back when you were sure you wouldn’t choke.

“Those were fucking good.”

“Only the best for your mom.”

“Thank you,” he spoke. “For the pastries and for hanging out with my family today. I’m sure you had other things to do, but it meant a lot. They’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“I had a lot of fun with them,” you said. His smile was soft, shy even, and he watched you carefully as you sipped from the glass in your hand. “It was nice to meet the people who made you who you are.”

“Wait until you meet Sid.”

You decided to move from the kitchen to the living room in favor of more comfortable seating. He reached his hand out behind his back, and you linked your fingers with his lazily so he could lead you to the couch. You slowed to a stop as he sat down, legs spread to pull you between them. Your hesitation caused a look of confusion to flash over his features.

“Can you tell me what’s going on inside your head now?” you asked, placing your glass down on the table beside the arm of the couch. He followed suit, then placed his hand delicately at your hip to urge you closer.

“Sure, I can,” he answered. He pulled you into his lap. You looped her arms around his shoulders as he flattened one hand against your back and curled the other around your thigh. “I don’t want to waste those romance rules on someone I don’t really like all that much.”

“You really didn’t like her?” you asked meekly. Of fucking course he didn’t like her, you were thinking. You were in his lap, not her, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. “Why?”

“The only reason I looked forward to going on dates with her was because I got to spend time with you before,” he confessed. You felt it all through your body. “I broke up with her the morning after we were at Gabe’s together. After you called me out on my bullshit, I knew I was being stupid.”

“Why me, though?”

“Because you deserve the world and I want to be the one to give it to you.”

It was only natural for you to lean in and capture his lips with yours. After all this time spent waiting and beating around the bush, you didn’t want to wait a second more. It was passionate, and new, and exciting. His hands held you close while your fingers curled into the back of his hair, but he wasn’t close enough.  

You swung your leg over to straddle him, not caring that you were wearing a dress with just panties underneath. His hands flew to your hips as you grinded against him. You gasped against his lips at the friction as he held you tighter, teeth nipping at your bottom lip until you covered his mouth with yours again. He guided your hips to grind against him once more, but you braced your hands against his chest to push away.

“I’m not staying for a fourth glass,” you said breathlessly. He smiled up at you, eyes falling to your lips that were red and plump from kissing him. Kissing him! He leaned in, tongue swiping along his bottom lip, and pulled you down by the back of the neck.

He murmured through his kisses, “You didn’t even finish your third.”

At the challenge in his voice, you reached over for the glass on the side table and finished what was left. He held you close, laughing against the crook of your neck. You giggled along with him until you felt his lips against your skin again and a gasp fell from your lips.

“You gotta leave before I pour number four,” he warned, breath ghosting over your neck. He kissed your neck again, this time sucking lightly enough to earn a strangled moan. You pushed back against his chest and stood, flustered as you adjusted your dress and your hair. Nate couldn’t help but smile as he watched you cross the room for your purse. He grabbed a pillow and held it over his lap to hide his hard-on.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked as you put your heels on the end of the couch. He was admiring your flushed cheeks and your wild hair as you busied yourself. You fastened the strap on each heel before looking back at him. It took everything in you to not go back over there and unbutton the rest of his shirt.

“Nothing,” you answered as you stood. He followed suit, adjusting his dress pants just a bit so he was comfortable and making you giggle in the process. He stepped up beside you and pulled you against him again. He placed one, two, three kisses against your neck then your jaw then your lips.

“Let me make you dinner.”

---

Nate wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands to himself. He knew that the second you walked out of your room in that little black dress, but he was really trying to be on his best behavior. It was technically only your first date and he wanted to impress you. You just weren’t helping very much. As soon as you were in his car, you were grabbing his hand and lacing it with yours to drop them into your lap.

He was a little nervous that he wasn’t going to be able to pull this off. He was sure that he’d fuck up somewhere and you’d go running. And, truthfully, you could tell that he was overthinking every little thing he did. The tension in his shoulders as he moved about the kitchen to prepare everything for dinner was clear.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked.

He gave you the most pathetic shrug and shake of the head as he tried to wave off your concern with a soft, “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” you called him out. “You look stressed.”

“I mean, I am a little stressed,” he admitted, diverting his eyes from yours as he headed over to the fridge. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Before he knew it, you were standing between him and the refrigerator. You flattened your hands against his chest and slid them up until your hands were linked behind his neck. A slight tug on him was enough to get him to kiss you. He finally relaxed, arms dropping from the refrigerator door to grip your hips.

“You’re not going to fuck this up.”

“I don’t have a very good track record.”

“You do with me,” you said softly. He looked skeptical, not quite understanding what you meant, so you pressed against him as his arms enveloped you. “You gave me a sunflower the third time we were ever around each other. You’ve cooked me dinner already. Sure, it was under different circumstances, but it counts. Nate, you know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t overthink it.”

“Go sit,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You managed to calm his nerves better than anyone he’d ever known in a matter of seconds. “I’ll plate dinner and then I have to grab something for you, okay?”

Nate entered the dining room a minute later, placing both plates down across from each other before disappearing to grab wine glasses and another bottle of wine. Then, he was off down the hall to his bedroom. Your eyes followed him curiously, wondering what else he could possibly have up his sleeve. He’d already impressed you enough by cooking a meal you didn’t teach him.

“Oh, wow,” you breathed out when he appeared in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers. “Nate.”

“For you.”

You stood to take them from his hands and kiss him in thanks. When you pulled away, your fingers danced along the petals of the roses tucked between the sunflowers and baby’s breath Nate had grown to love too.

---

You filled your glass for a fourth time as inconspicuously as possible after your last bite of dinner, but Nate caught your eye over the bottle as you poured and you knew he knew what you were doing. He tried to stifle his smile unsuccessfully, picking up his own glass to cover it. One sip and his third glass was done.

“More?” you asked, extending the bottle in his direction.

“Four glasses?” he teased. “What do you take me for?”

“Okay, more for me then.”

Your voice was low, eyes dark as they settled on him, and suddenly he was lunging forward to grab the bottle and pour another glass for himself. Your giggles filled the room. He wanted them to echo off his walls forever.

“I want to take a picture with you,” he said. You gave him a curious look, though your stomach was doing cartwheels at the suggestion. “I keep thinking about your empty picture frame and I want you to have something to put in it.”

“We can take a selfie,” you suggested. He was quick to shake his head, pushing away from the table to take your hand and lead you to the patio. He pulled the phone from his back pocket and set it up against the couch. He removed the glass from your hand to place it out of view of the camera.

“Now, this is quite the set up,” you murmured as he moved furniture out of the way so there was ample space to take the photo. Denver’s city lights were sure to be the perfect backdrop and having Nate beside you wasn’t too bad either.

“Well, it has to be perfect if it’s going in your office.”

“How do you know I’ll even want to put it in the frame?” you asked. Nate pressed the timer and turned to walk back at you, smirk on his lips. You were teasing him, but you were playing innocent with those doe eyes. He curled around you, arms pulling your back against his chest to pose for the picture.

“After tonight, I’m sure you will,” he murmured in your ear. “Smile.”

The audacity of a man who tells you to smile after igniting your entire body in goosebumps.

The camera went off in a sequence, five pictures for the one timer. You smiled twice before he reached up to turn your face to his for a kiss. The sound of the shutter had you pulling away from his lips with a giggle. He smiled down at you for the next photo as laughter spilled from your lips, and then he was kissing you again.

When you finally pulled away from him, all giggly and handsy, Nate dragged you along with him to his phone. He curled around you as he flipped through the photos, each one cuter than the one before.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t put that in your office?” he asked. His breath tickled the back of your neck. You were just trying to tease him before, but with the lack of space between you and the way he was looking at you in these photos, you just couldn’t tease him anymore. His fingers trailed up your arms, goosebumps rising in their wake once again.

“How’s that fourth glass of wine treating you?” you asked. Nate tucked the phone in his back pocket as you turned to face him. His hands were on you once they were free, curling over the curve of your ass.

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into it,” he murmured against your lips. “I’m trying to be good, but it’s impossible to keep my hands to myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?” you against, arching your body to press against him. You could feel him hard against your hip and knew you had him exactly where you wanted him. You pressed your lips to his and, as you pulled away, you took his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked on it.

A growl ripped through his chest as he lifted you into his arms. Your legs came to wrap around his waist as he carried you into the apartment and slammed the patio door shut behind him. He dropped you onto the bed, one hand coming to tug you towards the end by the ankle. His hands spread your legs so he could step between them and they slid up your thigh, pushing your dress up as they went.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmured in your ear as his hands reached your hip, dress bunching around his wrists and revealing your lace panties to him. “Stealing touches in a crowded room just doesn’t compare.”

You lifted your arms as he guided the dress over your body and tossed it to the floor. At the sight of your match set, Nate pushed you up the bed and crawled over you. He peppered kisses along your skin from your collarbone to your chest. He worked his way down your stomach until reaching the top of your underwear. In on swift movement, your thong was on the floor and he was spreading your legs.

“So pretty,” he murmured, fingers spreading your folds. You moaned out as he slipped his finger in. “You like my fingers in your pussy, baby?” You could only manage to nod because he’d already slipped a second finger in. He curled them while he pressed a kiss against your inner thigh. “How about my tongue?”

Nate licked a stripe up your center and you gasped, hands flying down to curl into his hair as he continued to eat you out. He sucked on your pussy, continuing to thrust his fingers into and curl. He dragged moans out of you, obscene words dripped from your lips, and the filthy sound of his tongue filled the room.

“You taste so good.”

You tried to grind against face for some more friction, but he held your hips down and continued. You whined, tugging his hair and arching your back as he brought you to orgasm.

“Nate, I’m gonna cu—” you moaned, toes curling at the feet of his lips around you. Suddenly, cool air shocked your core and your orgasm retreated. You sighed as your whole body sank into the bed at the absence of stimulation. Nate crawled up your buddy, licking a stripe up your neck before attaching his lips to yours.

“Sorry, baby,” he said. He nudged your knees apart and situated himself between them, hand falling to his dick as he lined it up with your entrance. “I just need you to cum on my cock.” You moaned as he pushed his head between your folds. “YN, as long as you’re mine, I’ll never make you feel like you don’t deserve all the most romantic things.”

You answered with a moan as he bottomed out inside you. He watched your face as you adjusted to his size and smiled as you whimpered, pulling your teeth between your lips. You felt so good around him and as he began to pull out and thrust in again, your nails dug into his biceps.

You knew he was trying to take his time, but you could hardly take it. As far as you were concerned, Nate would have all the time in the world to take it slow with you. Tonight was not that night.

“Fuck me harder.”

When you sounded like that beneath him, how could he say no? His previously slow and calculated thrusts became sloppy at your request. He relished in the sound of your moaning and the way you called his name like a prayer. You were unraveling beneath him and he wanted to get you there. He adjusted your leg over his shoulder so he could hit a new angle.

“Come on, baby,” he moaned against your lips. “I wanna see you cum for me.”

He reached down and placed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in circles as he pumped into you. You screamed out and your body arched as your orgasm ripped through you. Nate pumped into you a few moments more as he chased his high while listening to your whimpers. He spilled out into his condom as a string of curses left his lips, then collapsed onto of you to catch his breath.

Your fingers immediately found his hair as your breathing evened out together. His body was hot on yours and a sheen of sweat covered both of you. Nate’s fingers curled around your waist and into your skin, squeezing you like he needed to get closer but couldn’t. Finally, he pulled out of you and sat back on his knees.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed, hands rubbing up your stomach to cup your breasts. You shivered at his touch. “I never want to leave this bed.”

“Not even for shower sex?”

“Okay, maybe for shower sex,” he murmured. He picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder to carry you to the bathroom.

---

A few hours (and orgasms later), you were clothed in Nate’s sweats and t-shirt and waiting for him beneath the covers in bed. He was cleaning up the glasses you left on the patio and running the dishwasher, though he was quick to finish it up and return to you. You looked so cute propped up against the headboard that he couldn’t stop smiling as he got ready for bed. He pulled on a pair of sweats, but remained topless as he slid under the covers. Instead of pulling you down to rest on his chest, he dropped his head onto your stomach and pulled you tightly to him. Your fingers carded through his hair.

“Thank you for tonight, Nate,” you spoke. “This was the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“I’m counting this as our fourth date,” he responded. You laughed at him, slapping his bicep lightly at his teasing. “Let’s be honest, I was trying to impress you this entire time anyway.”

“Consider me impressed.”

Nate pulled you down to eye level with him, heads on your respective pillows, and then turned to shut the lamp off beside him. When he turned back, he pulled you against his chest. With your ear to his chest, you listened to his heartbeat and his breathing as it evened out. His fingers scratched your back ever-so-slightly as if soothing you to sleep.

“Are you happy?” he asked. You looked up at him with a curious gaze. Could he not tell how happy you were?

“Of course, I am,” you answered. “Are you?”

“How could I not be?” he asked. “You’re so far out of my league.”

“No, I’m not,” you groaned. You covered your blushing face with your hands at his words, hoping that he couldn’t feel the beat of your heart. Nate was quick to tug them down, holding them against his own chest. He didn’t care if you felt how hard his heart was beating. In fact, he wanted you to know. He wanted you to know the effect you had on him.

“You feel my heart, right?” he asked. You nodded. “You did that. You do that to me every single time I’m around you.” Your eyes began to water and you tried to pull your hand away from his to wipe the water pooling in the corner. Nate grabbed both your hands with one of his and wiped it with his own thumb. “I’ll never let you go to bed thinking I don’t love you. I’m going to shower you with flowers from our favorite florist and buy you pastries from that little shop you like, and I’ll never make you feel like you need to stifle yourself and who you are on account of me.”

“Nate.”

“Just listen to me, alright?” he asked, voice soft. You nodded. “Your ex stuffed you down and he didn’t appreciate you. That’ll never happen with me, and if you feel like it is, you need to tell me, just like you did when we first met.”

You tried to stammer through some type of coherent response, but words failed, so you kissed him. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against him and your legs intertwined. He was intoxicating, you couldn’t get enough, but he felt just the same. He wondered how anyone had let you go before and simultaneously thanked them for the gift that was you.

That night, Nate vowed he’d never let you go to bed unhappy and he’d never let you feel any less than perfect. He waited forever for a partner like you, honest and kind, and he finally had it in his hands, in his bed. And you promised that you’d never love anyone as much as you loved him. You just knew it.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Hi! I hope you’ll answer this question bc it bothers me quite a lot.. https://www.quora.com/What-does-it-mean-now-that-BTS-are-partial-owners-of-Big-Hit-Entertainment do you think it is true what the second person (Christine Herman) said? After reading this, i started to wonder…what if BTS does really have only profit in mind while doing new projects these days? Maybe they don’t really care anymore about creative and meaningful lyrics and sound? With Butter and PTD…all this generic music sung in English. Of course they say “we wanted to make fans feel good”, “butter and ptd represent who we are” and all these things fans want to hear but.. do you really think it’s true? moreover, don’t get me wrong, i don’t find product placement in their reality shows as something terrible, i believe this is a normal thing, however, nowadays the members really film ads and do marketing a lot. so yeah, for some reason i began to question their integrity dhsjjss i hope you will understand from where my concerns come from and won’t find this ask stupid sjdjjdjd

After reading that persons answer I can immediately tell you that I basically don't agree with an overwhelming majority of what she said (even more so since a lot of it just makes her sound like a manti that hates the company and basically would want them to make music for free or something). Generally I don’t agree with most of the opinions this person holds, and also Quora really isn’t a good source for info or good opinions, most of it is written by mantis, haters, and toxic shippers with an agenda so most ARMY will tell you to stay as far away from that website as possible.

Anyway, her focus in that answer was on money, since BTS are shareholders (and how that’s a conflict of interest despite other artists doing the exact thing but no one really cares or ever thinks about it), but what she failed to consider and note was that Big Hit Music, so BTS' label, isn't part of HYBE in the sense that shareholding has no baring on it since BHM is private. So while BTS profit off of HYBE doing well, and have a small percentage of a voice as shareholders, that has nothing to do with BHM in the classical sense, even if BHM's earnings reflect well on HYBE numbers and the shareholder money. 

BHM was made private to ensure their artistry would remain untouched, that was the whole point of that.

Even if they weren't HYBE shareholders, take Namjoon as example. He has more than 170 KOMCA credits, is among the top 3 Korean artists with the most credits and is also the youngest of them all. It is said that his earnings from that alone can sustain his family for 3 generations over. Look at Hobi and Chicken Noodle Soup, that song was a hit and he paid the original creator of that song 2 million dollars upfront and earned a lot back due to how successful it was. Same goes for Hope World which, again, was and is still immensely successful. Look at Yoongi and his work both as prod. SUGA, featuring artist SUGA, and as Agust D, as well as the credits he holds for his work on BTS songs (giving him as well a total of over 100 KOMCA credits, just like Hobi). Bangtan have worked and continue to work extremely hard for their music, put their heart and souls into it, and it shows even if their style changed as they grew older and more mature.

Yes, money is a major motivator, but looking at the above paragraph, do you really peg the members as these corrupt money hungry sellouts with no music related integrity? Who would need to sign major deals and would throw away their passion to just release empty shells of music for the sole reason of money? Am I naive enough to believe that they don't care about money? Of course not, we live in a capitalist society and even if BTS wouldn't care about money anymore at this point, HYBE very much does, and yet still I can't find it in me to agree with any of what was said in that answer that person wrote.

More below the cut:

And that point about how Hyundai cars were sold out because of BTS, isn't that the point why literally any company ever hires celebrities to advertise and endorse their product? And sure, again, I'm certain they earned a lot on these deals, they aren't the first or last or only ones in the history of ever to do so. Besides, look at JK and what he's done for small companies, or Tae who wore a brooch made my a small creator at the airport which catapulted that creator into the eyes of millions of ARMYs enough so that they could move to a proper studio and earn money with their work. Or the modern hanboks JK wore which led to the brand being able to move into actual stores in malls because of their sudden new popularity and demand. Or him wearing a bracelet that helps whales with a percentage of the money from the sales of said bracelet. And for all of that JK and Tae didn't earn any money at all. JK himself said that he's more conscious of the brand he wears now because he wants to help smaller businesses in these trying times, not because they pay him to do so (especially since they would never be able to afford that), but because he's aware of the influence he has and how he can use it to help others. Sound very much like a capitalistic villain, right?

As for the product placement bit, have you been on YouTube recently? Have you noticed that many, if not most, YouTube videos by “bigger” creators (and by that I mean even people who are around the 100k subscriber mark) begin with them thanking whoever sponsored that particular video and give you a scripted minute to two minute long ad before getting into the actual topic of the video? And In The SOOP featuring Chilsung Cider, FILA clothes and the random mention of how good Samsung phones are isn’t much different from it, though really, if you’re not someone interested in fashion much, would you really notice or care that they wore FILA? It’s just...clothes? If it weren’t a BTS related show, would you even notice it much? And it’s not even like they mentioned those brands every five minutes or anything, just a few times, which sure sounded a bit out of place at times, but personally I thought it was easy to look past. That’s just how things work nowadays and it’s odd for people to behave like somehow BTS are the first and only ones to use product placements despite literally every movie and show doing it in subtle and less so manners.

The answer by that person you sent also mentioned the Hyundai song for their car IONIQ and, unsurprisingly, that person wrote it off as just some commercial jingle but I’d actually disagree with that. Not to sound like a Hyundai and Samsung stan, which I am neither of, but I actually think those two knew best how to utilize the artist they have spent millions on signing a deal with. Hyundai didn’t just write them off as pretty faces with a millions strong fan army behind them and that’s it, they remembered that they are musicians so they gave them a song and made a whole music video for it as well. And say what you will, it is a good song. Then, just a few days ago, Samsung stepped up their game and we were given Over The Horizon Prod by SUGA of BTS. For those who aren’t Samsung users, Over The Horizon is their signature ringtone and basically their company sound, and over the years different artists were asked to make their own version of it. And this time they reached out to Yoongi and asked if he’d like to do it as well. It’s kind of a big deal. Sure, Butter is used in one of their commercials much the way Dynamite was last year, but that’s beside the point. Would that person make the same claim about Imagine Dragons whose song Believer is also part of the ads for the new Samsung phones? I have my doubts.

Furthermore, and I don't want this to come across as mean toward you but, I think it is uncalled for to question their artistic integrity based on a total of 3 (three) English songs when last year alone we received 50+ songs, most of which were in Korean, among them the entirety of BE which was, according to the members, the album they were most involved in ever when it comes to both music and everything around it.

You can dislike their English songs, that’s more than fine, they have a very extensive discography you can listen to instead, but questioning their integrity based on them doing something that most, if not every, artist on their level does (as in sign ad deals with brands etc) is a bit much if you ask me. Does that mean indie artists whose songs get picked up for commercials (or for Netflix shows or movies) and thus it catapults them into the mainstream are also just money hungry people with no integrity and ones who don’t care about their music? Or is that, again, just a standard Bangtan is held to (as in that their integrity is questioned based on everything, even the most trivial/normal things) that only applies to them and no one else?

In the recent Weverse Magazine article about how Permission to Dance came to be there is a lot of talk about not only that song but also Butter and Dynamite, among the things being discussed and talked about they mentioned how the original lyrics for Butter were much more materialistic but that the members didn't like that so they asked for that to be changed. Likewise the original lyrics for Permission to Dance, as you'd expect from the penmanship of Ed Sheeran, were much more romantic, almost proposal like, which wasn't what the members wanted either so it was, again, adjusted in a way that would fit what they, as well as the A&R team, wanted. While you may not like these songs, they still had a say in them to a certain degree, could say yes or no and ask for adjustments. Why else would PTD take eight months?

While they might outsource their English songs, their main focus, so their Korean (as well as Japanese) discography is still centered around them, their lyrics, their songs, their sound. Of course you’ll also find outside producers and some lyricists on those as well, because that’s how music works these days, as in collaboratively, that doesn’t change anything at large. Their integrity is still very much there, their hearts are still in it, what other reason would any of them have to say that they want to continue for a long time, for Yoongi to say they want to figure out how to make their career last as long as possible, for JK to say that he wants to sing forever?

Admin 2 also wanted me to add that in their opinion, to a certain degree (though not fully of course), their English songs are like a way to laugh at and expose how shallow the English-centric music industry is. As in, while they made music in Korean with deep and meaningful lyrics, the US industry didn’t care but once they switched to easy to listen to sound with easy to understand English lyrics, they suddenly paid attention, are played on the radio, and even received a Grammy nomination which they wouldn’t have gotten for a Korean song ( A1: regardless how much Black Swan or Spring Day really would’ve deserved it...). 

[taelme]

Enemies-to-lovers!Jisung

request:  - anon: Could you maybe write an enemies to lovers like the Chan one but with jisung?? It was so good 😔😔😭🥺💞💞💖💘💘💞💗💞💗💕💞 can it be fluffy and Angsty hehe 😖 maybe where they're both college students -  anon: Can you do a Enemies to Lovers AU with chan!!! Where they're going to college and their families happen to be friends so they get an apartment together to save money, but the first time they meet it doesn't go well. Then yk, slowly w time they fall in love ahhaha... I love your writings btw!! 💓💞💓💝💓💞💓💝 (I recently sent the ask about the enemies to lovers au w chan that involved going to college.. since you literally just wrote an enemies to lovers au for chan if you want you can do my request (if u do it ahahha) with jisung!!)  - anon: I really love how you write au’s/fanfictions. I just want to know if u can write something about han jisung?? maybe a cafe love story or another tattoo artist just like chan? or maybe a studio date night?

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au, tattoo apprentice!jisung lol (fluff, a bit of angst) 

pairing/s: Han Jisung / Reader ( ft skz Bang Chan and nct/wayv/superm (lmao)  Lucas )

word count: 18k 

tw: I talk about like kind of sad stuff when jisung has like an artist’s block in this I guess 

a/n: thank u anons for being so patient with this request!! I rly hope that I managed to do it well and that you guys are satisfied with the outcome n have fun reading it hehe, it was kind of inspired by the song sunshine!! by stray kids so I hope that it gives u the same good vibes I got from the song while writing this :( ok bye 

If it were any other person standing in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t have regretted having an outburst in the café for the morning crowd to see.

The fight, or outburst (if you wanted to relieve him of any role in the exchange), had started rather simply. You were just having one of those days where it was raining outside, you were awake even before roosters were (in your opinion) and you had wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and sleep into the evening.

You had gone to grab your morning coffee, combating against the rain with your multi-coloured umbrella, as one does. Shoving the doors of the café open, you were met with shouts of names and storms of people squeezing to collect their orders. The whole ordeal would’ve made you pretty at ease if it weren’t for the coldness of your feet and the way your umbrella would cause someone to slip soon if you didn’t move.

Your shoes squelched against the shiny wood floors of the café, each step making you cringe as you waited anxiously to reach the front of the line, desperate to put an end to this experience. Thankfully enough, your order was pretty straightforward, so you’d collected it quickly, the small smiley face drawn on the cup by the staff serving to put you in a slightly less dreadful mood.

Stationing yourself at one of the empty tables you’d spotted by the exit, you set your still-dripping umbrella on the floor before you tried to get your tissues out to salvage whatever you could of your shoes. Shrugging off your coat, you’d draped it over the back of the seat.

Glancing at the time on your phone before you shoved your notes aside within your bag, you’d pushed your arm forward and opened your bag harshly, taking your box file out of your bag, almost nicking yourself against the broken corner of the file in your rush.

The next sequence of events happened quickly, and too ‘all-at-once’ for you to process. Upon taking out your box file, you’d heard a yelp behind you, followed by harsh footsteps and the splash of coffee on your box file.

Letting out a loud yelp of surprise as the person in question had stopped their fall with a loud thud of their hands against the pillar in front of you, they’d turned to you with wide-eyes, their eyebrows quickly furrowing into an expression that looked utterly ticked-off, their mouth already opening to speak.

You’d seemed to beat them to it, hurriedly grabbing your tissues to wipe down your file, checking for any brown-stains on your precious papers.

“What the hell,” you scoffed, casting a glance up at the boy. He had stood slightly taller than you, with rounded eyes and a defined nose, his lips pressed into a firm line.

He looked fairly young, from the way he dressed in brand-name basics to the way he was practically decked out in accessories. Call you biased, but if this was a senior or a child, you’d probably have let them off with it. But the way he was looking at you now was somehow successfully unnerving you, and you supposed admiring his annoyed features was about the last thing you should be doing at the moment.

“‘What the hell’?” He echoed your words, “who’s the one that chose to stand in the middle of nowhere to go through their damned bag?”

Your eyebrows raised in offence, your annoyance from before making itself known as you frowned, your grip on your bag tightening, “oh, and it’s my fault you have poor coordination?”

The boy had narrowed his eyes, mirroring your expression, his bracelets shifting on his wrist as he gestured at your umbrella on the floor.

“Your stupid umbrella was the reason I tripped in the first place,” he told you pointedly, strangely making you even more annoyed that he chose to attack not only you but your innocent umbrella too.

Your volume raised involuntarily with your frustration, “it’s so bright! It was basically screaming at you that it was there,” you defended, attracting a few customers attention with your outburst. You didn’t understand why you had to go through this so early in the morning when you were already irritable beyond belief.  

The boy seemed to have noticed this as well, discomfort washing over him at the feeling of the crowd’s stares. Ultimately deciding he would rather give up the fight with the crazy stranger from the café and leave before he was late for his job at the tattoo studio.

“Whatever,” he huffed, leaving the café, the bells at the doors jingling loudly as it swung back.

Something about the apology just wasn’t enough for you, (maybe you just expected more because he irked you) but you were already late enough for class. Rolling your eyes, you’d slung your bag around your shoulder with a thump, gripping your cup in your hands tightly and picking your umbrella (that now had an evident crease in one of its panels) up before running to class.

Your mom had called you halfway through the day while you were on your way to classes, the gesture enough to make you huff good-naturedly at her insistence.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey, is this a good time?” her tone was practically dripping with motherly concern, making you let out a breathy laugh, nodding even though she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, It’s fine,” you told her, “but anyway, I think my umbrella’s broken. Some idiot at the café this morning practically destroyed it with their stupid combat boots.”

Your mom didn’t seem to pay much attention to your rant, cutting straight to the point that she’d called you for.

“Have you met Jisung yet?”

You sighed as you entered the auditorium for your next lecture, lowering your head slightly as you found a seat around the middle of the hall.

“No, not yet. I’m only going over to the house after my classes end, remember? But I heard my stuff already got moved there,” you explained to her, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you took your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table gently.

“Oh, do you want his phone number? To make things easier for the both of you,” she offered, earning a disinterested hum from you.


Your mom was more than excited about the fact that you would be 1. Not living in a residence within the school and 2. Living with the son of one of her friends from college. You figured your duty as her child now would be to appease her and at least try to live out her desires for you. Which in this case was sharing an apartment alone with some boy you didn’t even know. Maybe your mom was just a little more trusting than most.

You shrugged, “yeah, sure, just send it to me.”

Your mom let out a squeal, “I’m so excited for you to meet him, honey, he’s such a nice boy. You two are sure to get along. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

Letting out a small sigh, you leant back in your seat as you held your phone with one hand, your other hand going to unlock your computer.

“I still feel like I’m imposing on them,” you hummed.

“Honey, it’s fine, Jisung’s parents insisted that you didn’t have to pay any rent.”

You hummed patronisingly, it wasn’t as if it was the first time she was telling you this, “yeah, uh-huh,” your attention was momentarily diverted by the tall boy that was standing next to you, gesturing to the empty seat with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry, is there anyone sitting here?”

Your lips parted, “okay, mom I gotta go I’ll call you once I’ve settled into the apartment.”

You did a once-over of the boy, who shook his head to get his bangs away from his eyes, giving you a wide smile. Gesturing for him to go ahead and sit down, he’d flopped down onto the seat with a sigh.

Letting go of his bag strap as he turned around, he gave you an appreciative nod as he opened his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen.

“First day, huh,” his voice was deeper than you’d remembered it to be from just seconds ago, his hand coming up to cover his growing smile as a little giggle escaped him, “I’m Lucas.”

“How’d you know?” You hummed, “and my name’s Y/N.” You swore you’d never seen a boy with such sparkly eyes before in your life.

Lucas shrugged, leaning his folded arms on the desk and turning his head slightly to observe you in your confusion, one hand shifting to play with his earring, “haven’t seen you around before.”

“You talk like you know everyone in the school,” you scoffed.  

Lucas didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm, simply giving you a shrug, “possibly. And also because it’s my second time taking this stupid class so I should know an unfamiliar face when I see one,” he told you, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Your eyebrows raised, hearing the doors at the bottom of the auditorium open, a short stocky man walking through and making his way to the speaker’s desk.

“Second time? Why?” You hummed, keeping your gaze on the man in anticipation for what he was about to say.

Lucas cast a glare towards the professor, “I thought he was boring so I didn’t really go much for his lectures the last time, you know, because I thought they weren’t graded. But he decided to include them as passing criteria way too late.”

Lucas pointed at the professor, his sleeve riding up slightly to expose a tattoo at his wrist. You were starting to wonder if everyone at this place had tattoos, the sight seeming fairly common from just your few hours in the school.

You winced, nodding, already getting the sensing that this man was someone you needed to be on good terms with.

“Alright, class, enough talking. From now on, I’m the only one that should be talking so I expect nothing but your full attention from here onwards.”

This was going to be a long lecture.

===

Your mom had texted you the Jisung kid’s number, and you’d dropped him a text saying you were on your way to the apartment, getting a reply from him that he was on his way there as well. You figured he seemed pretty polite, from the way he texted you, so you guessed that helped in making you dread the whole arrangement less.

When you’d reached, you’d ended up at an apartment building that looked fairly plain, walking in to the lobby and scanning the sparsely decorated notice board for residents, the last thing put up being a picnic for families that was 3 months ago.

Stepping into the lift, you’d noticed that though it was relatively well-maintained, it seemed rather dull, from the prison-grey lights to how the mirrors were covered for maintenance. Thankfully, your apartment itself was relatively well-maintained (you remembered your mom telling you the apartment was previously being rented out by Jisung’s parents), aside from the space being a little not-so conducive. But well, they were letting you live here for free, so you couldn’t complain.

Setting your things down onto the sofa in the living room, you moved to examine the respective rooms, frowning when you realised that whoever Jisung was, he’d taken the room with the bigger bed, his clothes either already hung up on the clothing rack or stacked up on his bed.

Walking into what you assumed was your room now, you tried to envision how you could make this space more conducive. From moving the bed aside to switching the desk out to the living room for more light, you tried out different permutations in your head, your time as an amateur interior designer cut short when you heard the rustling of keys at the front door.

Smoothing your hair down to make sure it was neat, you’d dodged the boxes of stuff as you leant over the sofa, curious to see what this Jisung kid would look like.

Jisung had done the same outside the door, making sure his hair and clothes were somewhat presentable before pushing the door open. And immediately wanting to close it back.

“You’re Jisung?”

“You’re Y/N?”

The two of you spoke simultaneously, disbelief and shock written over your features as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Like you mentioned before, maybe if the boy at the café this morning wasn’t Jisung, you would’ve regretted your actions a lot less.

Jisung gave you a look of disbelief, stepping into the apartment and folding his arms across his chest, his bag still hanging from his shoulder. He couldn’t wrap his head around how unlucky he must have been to have had such a bad encounter with someone he was about to spend probably his entire college life living with.

He sighed deeply, “now I don’t feel like paying the rent on your behalf anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, “your parents are paying the rent, not you. You have no say in it.”

Jisung made a sound of protest, shaking his head vigorously, his eyes widening in his aggravation.

“No, they aren’t. I told them to let me take care of it because I felt bad for them. But I don’t feel bad for you, so you’re gonna have to split the rent with me.”

Your lips parted, fumbling for a response.

Jisung’s expression was expectant, provoking you almost, “what? Would you rather get an apartment on your own? ‘Cause I’d be more than happy to let my parents know.”

You wanted to cry. It was already the start of the school term so staying in the dorms was out of the question for you already, the deadline having closed long ago. And you knew that finding another apartment in the school district that was within your budget was going to be a pain in the ass. So as much as you hated to admit it, splitting the rent with Jisung was your best option. You needed to get a job asap.

You rolled your eyes, “well…well then why do you get the bigger room?” You huffed, mirroring his stance as you folded your arms across your chest.

Jisung gave you a mocking pout, “simple, ‘cause I got here first,” he brought his hand up, inspecting his nails.

“You should be glad I’m not charging you extra for inconveniencing me,” he added.

Not being able to help but let a small gasp leave you, you were quick to respond, “inconveniencing you? You were the one that got coffee all over my file.”

Jisung shrugged, “potato, potato. Doesn’t change the fact that you made me late for work.”

You clenched your jaw, watching with a glare as he strolled past you, gesturing to the space in the living room which you’d been planning on using as a work area, “I have dibs on this space.”

You frowned, mumbling, “I wanted to shift the desk in my room out here, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Wanna consider moving out now?”

You inhaled deeply, brushing past him to grab your luggage that contained your clothes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you huffed in annoyance as you walked into your room, his laughter echoing behind you.

===

“How can you say that? Jisung is a very nice boy,” your mother cried, making you roll your eyes, glaring at your phone from where you were hanging your clothes up.

“He’s the idiot that I fought with at the café, it’s not like I’m saying this without reason.”

You heard your mom sigh deeply, conversing with your dad about something in the background, “try to put your attitude aside for once, please, I’m begging you.”

You groaned, kicking your luggage aside before you made your way over to your bed, flopping down next to your phone with a loud sigh, wincing at the feeling of the springs in your mattress. You were so sure Jisung’s bed was more comfortable.

“It’s not me that has the attitude, it’s him,” you mumbled, sulkiness evident in your tone.

“Enough, Y/N," she said sternly, "If I hear anymore complaints you’re really gonna be in for it.”

You kicked at your blanket, “fine, goodnight. Love you.”

You hung up, staring at your desk as you contemplated on whether to move it into the living room now or tomorrow, distracted from your thoughts when you could hear the water running, not to mention the awfully loud sound of Jisung singing in the shower.

How thin were the walls? Your glare had shifted to your door now.

“Can you keep it down?” You shouted, hearing a silence on his end momentarily. Heaving a sigh of relief, you turned around in your bed only to hear him resume his singing, except this time, you swore it got louder.

Burying your head under your pillow, you kicked at your blanket, hoping this was the worst it could get. It wasn’t that bad, right? You could deal with simple shower concerts. Maybe living with him wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought.

===

Safely to say, you should’ve thought otherwise.  

The very first time you realised you'd underestimated Han Jisung, was when you'd gone to the fridge to fix yourself something for dinner, only to find post-its on every single one of the items that read : 'property of han jisung! not for y/n'

You'd moved to look for something else to eat that was unlabelled, only realising then that he'd even gone to the (very petty) extent of labelling the snacks in the cupboard.  

Huffing, you'd shrugged your coat on, grabbed your wallet and made a trip to the grocery store.

Cursing him in your head as you shoved your items into your basket, earning yourself looks of scandal from the elders who were for whatever reason still in the grocery store, though you couldn’t be bothered to look more amiable. You’d wanted nothing more than to throw out Jisung’s groceries, but of course, you were a nice person, so you wouldn’t do that. It seemed like you just couldn't get a break when your phone had begun to buzz in your pocket.

"Hey, mom," you hummed, trying not to sound too tired lest she started to drill you about resting. You brought your groceries over to the self-checkout aisle, heaving them onto the small platform with a grunt.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

You huffed, "we didn't have enough food, so I went to buy some groceries." Biting back your tongue, you rolled your eyes, scanning your items and bagging them angrily.

"How's finding a job been?"

You shrugged, Lucas had told you about various job openings nearby your house, (surprising you with how much he knew about the area) one of them you were looking into was a simple job at a café near your apartment. Thankfully, not the one that you'd had your little ‘encounter’ with Jisung at.

"Pretty alright, nothing too difficult,” you hummed, fumbling to pull out your card so you could make your payment, ignoring the stares you were getting from the people queueing up behind you.

"Alright, that's good to hear."

"Everything alright with you and dad at home?" you asked, shoving your card back into your wallet before slinging the bags onto your forearms, beginning to walk out of the supermarket.

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about us, we just miss you."

You sighed, something about the night air putting you in a drowsy mood, "me too. I never realised how much I liked living with you guys till now..."

"Don't tell me you're still having a hard time with Jisung," you heard her tone, your knew that this was her way of implying she didn't want to hear anything other than that you and Jisung's housemate experience was just peachy.

"Don't worry, mom, everything's... fine."

You'd tugged your coat closer to yourself, giving her whatever updates you figured she'd want to know before hanging up, enjoying the peaceful walk before you reached your apartment, figuring this was as much peace you were going to get before you returned to the apartment to be met with his stupid antics again.

And surely enough, the evening breeze accompanied with the sounds of faint conversation from the restaurants nearby had started to put you in a rather drowsy mood, making you start to contemplate if you were even still hungry, the lure of sleep starting to seem more tempting.

Reaching your apartment building, the lift lobby illuminated by a harshly bright lightbulb, you’d bumped into one of the ladies living on the same floor as you exited the lift on your floor, watching as her eyes widened in surprise, giving you a small smile as she enquired.

“Oh, are you the resident from apartment 19B?" you nodded.

If you were drowsy before, you sure weren't drowsy anymore.

You flinched slightly when her expression had changed in an instant, her once amiable expression now replaced with an annoyed glare.

"Can you please refrain from singing so loudly in the middle of the night? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Your eyebrows raised, shaking your head as you slot your keys into the keyhole, opening the door just a crack, "oh, sorry, that's not me that's my housemate—”

The middle-aged lady had narrowed her eyes at you, "you know, It's not ethical for someone as young as you to be living with a man when you're so young—”

"Okay, sorry, won't happen again!" you told her quickly in your attempt to appease her, shoving the door open and slamming it behind you, turning around only to see Jisung standing in the living room, dressed in loungewear with black gloves on his hands as he pointed at you in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"Aw, I'm not the only one that thinks it's not ethical for you to live here," he pouted.

You rolled your eyes, "I can't believe she thought I was the one singing," you huffed, going over to the kitchen to see yet more dishes in the sink.

Pointing at them with a look of disbelief on your face, "are you not gonna clean these either?"

Jisung turned around, looking at the sink with evident contempt, shrugging. He held his hands up to you, showing you that they were currently gloved.

"I'm a little busy, why don't you do me a favour this once? Consider it compensation," he grinned, making his way back to....your room?

"What are you doing in my room?" you asked, shoving the last of your groceries haphazardly into the fridge before you'd followed him into your room, shutting your mouth quickly when you saw that he’d practically set up a work station next to your desk, looking closer to find that he was using what looked like tattoo equipment.

“Practicing,” he shrugged.

You didn’t bother asking what his business using tattoo equipment was, simply huffing in exasperation, “and you had to do it in my room, of all places?”

Jisung nodded, pushing one of his sleeves up on his shoulder, revealing a rather big tattoo on his arm that was partially hidden by his sleeve.

“This is the only room with an accessible plug and a good enough space to work in.”

“Then why didn’t you just take this room as your bedroom?” You were dumbfounded at the way he was so nonchalant about his actions, the buzzing of the tattoo needle resuming as he practised on fake skin.

“I like to sleep in a comfortable bed,” he shrugged, leaning back to look at his tattoo.

“And you think I don’t?” You shot back, your hands going to your hips, his reply coming just as quick.

“Well, for $300 bucks above the rent maybe you can,” he smirked, using a tissue to rub at the fake skin, looking at you as he poked his tongue in his cheek, quirking his eyebrows before turning back to continue tattooing.

That night, you remembered asking Lucas if he knew who Jisung was, since he’d mentioned how he was pretty into tattoos, having a few of his own, his reply only making you wonder if the world was just small or you were just unlucky.

lucas wong

8:53pm - oh yeah I know him! he’s apprentice-ing at the tattoo shop I usually go to, he’s pretty good-

8:53pm - why? do u like him? I cld put in a good word for u-

You sighed deeply

8:53pm - no thanks im good-

Little did you know, the next time Lucas had visited the the tattoo studio, he’d spotted Jisung working on his designs at one corner of the room, going against your request and disturbing Jisung even despite how he looked like that was the last thing he wanted, too focused on the shadings of his chrysanthemum flower sketch on his tablet to have paid attention to Lucas' entrance.

“Hey, do you know anyone named Y/N?”

Jisung’s face scrunched up in distaste, looking up at Lucas and hoping desperately that he was joking, “don’t tell me… freshman Y/N?”

Lucas nodded, his eyes lighting up in excitement, “yeah! So you guys do know each other.”

Jisung made an uncertain sound, “I wouldn’t call it much of a relationship. Y/N’s my housemate.”

Jisung’s words had sparked a realisation in Lucas, the latter only piecing together your disdain towards Jisung with your stories about your ‘asshole housemate’

Lucas’ silence had caught Jisung off guard, making Jisung look up at Lucas expectantly, “sorry, you wanted to go get something to eat, right?”

Lucas nodded, masking his shock with a smile, recovering quickly.

“Wait, lemme go call Chan,” Jisung murmured, beckoning the boy who was currently snacking at the reception area.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” Lucas asked, earning a hum from Chan.

“I kinda wanted to get a smoothie,” Chan admitted sheepishly, though thankfully, Jisung and Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem with that.


“Why didn’t you wanna go to the other café? They’ve got better smoothies,” Lucas wondered out loud, making Jisung snort.

“We’re only going there because Chan has a fat crush on one of the baristas.” 


Which was what ended them up at the café you worked at.

The moment they had entered, you noticed your colleague tense beside you, bending down to pretend to take something from below the counter. 


“Shit, they’re here. Oh my god, help,”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “who?”

“That cute tattoo artist guy I was telling you about!” She whispered harshly, standing up and greeting the boys with a smile, her heart eyes directed particularly at one of them with curly hair.

Only then did you realise Lucas and Jisung were there, receiving an overwhelming feeling of wanting to bang your head into the cash register. You already saw him enough at home, and now you had to see him at work too?

“Hi, how may I help you?” You smiled at the curly haired boy, casting a glare in Jisung’s direction, the boy looking equally as dismayed to see you here.

“Hello, can I get the berry smoothie?” He asked, and you stepped aside, letting your colleague ring up his order while you prepared his drink, giving it to your colleague to serve since she’d spent so long talking to him.

Lucas had mouthed a ‘sorry’ to you when he’d gone to sit at one of the tables with Chan, Jisung lingering at the cashier as your colleague went to the backroom to squeal.

“What do you want?” you wore a bored expression.

Jisung looked almost too focused, his eyes glaring at the laminated menu between the both of you.

“I changed my mind, I want a drink too.”

You suppressed your urge to roll your eyes, your finger scratching at the corner of the cash register, “you couldn’t have ordered it like five seconds ago?”

Jisung shot you a look, “yeah, well I didn’t want it five seconds ago.”

Inhaling deeply, you’d gestured to the menu, and now not only was your expression bored-to-death, but your tone was too, "what do you want?”

“I want an iced americano,” he told you, pausing before he added, “and ask your friend to make it. I don’t trust you not to spit in my drink.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “good call.”

Ringing up his order, you’d called your friend, dismissing any thought of ever having a normal encounter with Jisung.

Upon returning to his table, Chan had given him a look, "Lucas told me you know the cashier."

"Not the one you think is cute, don't worry,” Jisung sighed, glancing in his drink just for good measure.  

Chan's eyebrows lifted in amusement, "so the one you think is cute?"

Almost instinctually, Jisung replied, "yeah," paying more attention to his drink than his words. Looking up when he heard Chan and Lucas struggle to stifle their giggles.

"What?"

Lucas clapped his hands together, his smile wide, "you just said Y/N was cute."

"No, I didn't, you did." Jisung shot back quickly. It was obvious that retaliation didn't always have to make sense for him.

Chan had a curious glint in his eyes now, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk, "I mean, you guys do live together right, and you've really never thought anything about her?"

“I did, I thought her nagging was annoying as hell,” Jisung shrugged.


Chan narrowed his eyes at Jisung, an amused smirk on his face, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

Jisung gave Chan a pointed look, "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't stir shit, especially not in front of him." Jisung pointed at Lucas.

"You didn't answer the question," Lucas sing-songed.

Jisung scoffed, casting a furtive glance towards your direction where you were smiling as your colleague showed you something on their phone.

Jisung shrugged, it wasn’t as if you looked bad or anything, with his pride, he’d probably have told Chan that you were pretty if he squinted.

“Guess if they smiled more they'd be...decent."


Lucas raised his eyebrows, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him very much, “decent, huh.”

Chan leant back in his seat, shaking his head at Jisung, "now I feel like I have to make you my apprentice for relationships too."

Jisung scoffed, regaining his usual confidence.

"If by that you mean you want me to stand at the counter giggling my ass off like how you did with that cashier then no thanks, I'm good on my own."

===

You'd tried your best to tolerate Jisung, especially after Lucas fed you some story about how he takes a while to warm up to people (which you totally bought).

This tolerance came in the form of things like waking up earlier to use the bathroom so the both of you wouldn't have to fight in the morning, or giving him reminders to do the laundry or clean the dishes but only doing them after he forgot the third reminder.

Jisung usually forgot to turn off the lights whenever he went to sleep (though sometimes he did it on purpose, not liking the eerie darkness of the house when the lights were off), so you would always end up waking from the glare of the lights that seeped into your room, stepping over the mess of clothes or socks (sometimes even shoes) in the walkways and turning them off for him instead of nagging him about the lights. See? Tolerance.

Call you a pushover or whatever, but you kind of prided yourself on how your well of patience seemed to run deep. Very deep. Deeper than the average human, you supposed, even.

However, days like the ones you were having now, just didn't seem to let you draw from that well of patience.

You'd started off your shitty morning when you'd slept through your alarm, needing your usual work clothes but realising that Jisung hadn't done the laundry, leaving you with no choice but to grab the nearest hoodie you could find on your bedroom floor and sprint to work.

If that wasn't enough, you'd landed cashier duty as punishment for being late, your social battery starting to empty not even halfway through the day. Your 'hi, how may I help you's slowly turning to 'what would you like's to eventually 'hi's and ending up with a small smile and gesture towards the menu.

It didn't help that Chan, the tattoo artist your colleague had an obvious thing for, had shown up halfway to try and strike a conversation with you about Jisung, much to no avail.

“Aren’t you wondering why Jisung isn’t here?” You remembered him asking, to which you’d shook your head.

“Not really,” you shrugged, earning a thoughtful hum from Chan.

“Really? You’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

You had shook your head at him then, remembering the way he looked so shocked to have made you even more curious about why he was asking you this in the first place.  

By the time you were done with your work, you'd wanted nothing more than to just go home, take the longest shower of your life and curl up in your horribly uncomfortable bed. Except you couldn't even do that, because you had unfinished readings for your class the next day.

You figured if you sat yourself at your desk with no distractions you could be done sooner and go to sleep sooner, but your one distraction had just come home from the tattoo studio and was somehow getting on your nerves even more today.

Not only had he been acting as if he was the opera community's 'next big thing', he'd proceeded to seat himself on the sofa behind you, watching whatever show he was into loudly, seeming to find whatever the protagonist was saying to be too hilarious to just enjoy the show silently.

You figured you could handle that much, you know, having to live up to your preachings on tolerance, deciding to breathe deeply and suppress your urge to tell him to shut up, and soon enough, he'd disappeared.

But your joy was short lived, once again, when Jisung came back out, singing as he made a snack for himself and proceeded to eat it right in front of you, the smell growing more and more distracting.

Now, he was now lounging on the sofa in the living room, headphones on and connected to his laptop that rest on his stomach, but still typing away with his phone not on silent, the keyboard sounds distracting you from your reading. You figured, maybe your well of patience was just closed today.

“Hey,” you called. No response. If anything, the silence of the apartment had made his typing sounds even louder.

“Hey, oh my god, can you like put your phone on silent or something?" You tried again. Still no response, now, he was humming in between his pauses before he would type another burst of words on his phone.

Deciding you had to take matters into your own hands, you stormed over to where he was, your book still in your hands as you stood in front of him, making him turn to you with wide-eyes.

Pulling his headphones off of his head, he frowned, "what?"

“This,” you gestured pointedly towards his phone, “put your phone on silent, it's distracting me."

Jisung would've complied, though a part of him couldn't help but be annoyed by your nagging, his instinct prompting him to act defensively, “why don’t you just listen to some music or something? Then my typing sounds wouldn’t be a problem,” he told you dismissively, making you groan in frustration.

“I can’t study with music, it’s already hard enough for me to focus as it is.”

Jisung was annoyed, “It’s just a typing sound, what are you getting so worked up for? You’re always getting on my back about everything when I’m just minding my own business."

You let out a groan, "look, it's been more than a month, and i'm up to here with your shit," you held a hand way above your head for emphasis, any of your tolerance long gone out of the window (which he had also left open, making the apartment chilly and noisy).

Jisung's eyebrows knit in a frown, your outburst coming as a shock to him, "fine, whatever. I'll put my phone on silent, chill."

You shook your head, your gaze firm and unwavering, "no, I wanna make rules."

Rules? Jisung wanted to scoff. What was this, a second-grade classroom?

Jisung stared at you in shock, nodding dumbly. "Rules....oka-alright, yeah. Let's make rules."

You nodded firmly, "first of all, if you're gonna make food at ungodly hours in the morning, eat it in your own room."

"And the dishes, clean up after yourself," you added, gripping your book tightly in your hand.

“Stop leaving your shit in the corridors,” you continued, “and pack up your shoes it’s such a mess at the door way I can barely walk into the house,” you huffed, feeling as though with every rule you made you were finally letting your feelings be heard.

Jisung wracked his brains for a rule of his own, finding ways to regain control over the situation, "well, I have a rule too! You gotta stop nagging me to do shit," he sat up, setting his headphones on the sofa cushion.

You let out a tiny gasp, "excuse me? I only ask you to ‘do shit’ that you should be doing."

Before you could get carried away, you continued, "and as for the laundry—”

Jisung perked up, “okay, how about this. I do the dishes and you do the laundry," he suggested with a forced smile, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, which fell back against his forehead gently.

"You know for a fact that that’s not the same, so we'll switch," you told him, "you do laundry on one week when I do the dishes, and the next week i'll do the laundry and you do the dishes. Fair, right?"

Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, "whatever."

At the mention of laundry, Jisung glanced over at what you were wearing, frowning at the familiarity of his hoodie.

"Good, now that we have an agree—”

"That's mine," he pointed at your stomach, making you look at him in disbelief.

"Huh?" Your stomach? Your hands found their way to cover your stomach.

"The hoodie. It's mine."

You looked down at the hoodie you were wearing, a frown evident on your face. You didn't know what he was talking about, you had this hoodie since you were in high-school, it couldn't be his.

"No, it's mine. I had this since I was in high-school," you frowned, unsure if this was some sort of joke he was trying to play.

Jisung couldn't hide his amusement, letting a laugh slip from his lips, "yeah, so did I... which is why I know that that's mine."

You scoffed, "it was on my bedroom floor," you mumbled, seeing him nod patronisingly.

"Because I left it there," he told you, enunciating his words slower, shocking you when he'd reached over and grabbed you by the sleeve, raising your hand up for you to see.

"Look, this stain. It's tattoo ink. I would know because you're wearing the wrong hoodie. New rule, don’t wear my clothes.”

You stood silent, huffing as you removed the hoodie, leaving you in your shirt and sweats, tossing the hoodie at him in annoyance, the smirk on his face making you even more annoyed.

"Fine, take your stupid hoodie, I don’t wanna wear your stupid clothes anyway,” you huffed, “and you’re on laundry duty this week."

You didn't finish your readings that night.

===

You would like to think your rule system was working pretty well, seeing as you didn't find yourself butting heads with Jisung as often as before.

Halfway into the semester, you had grown busier with your assignments, which had managed to take your attention away from Jisung.

Though you were certainly more tired than usual, from attending birthday parties of friends to working, to rushing your readings during any free time you got (not to mention squeezing in any bit of sleep whenever you could), to rushing through your assignments just to meet the packed deadlines. But you couldn’t complain, this was typical for any college student you knew.

But of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t itching for a break, eyeing the semester break on your calendar that was fast approaching, letting yourself get carried away during classes with Lucas as you both planned on your pieces of scrap paper all the things you’d wanted to do during the break.

Similarly, Jisung had grown busier at the tattoo studio, and Chan had recommended him to a music producer that was interested in hearing Jisung's compositions.

Jisung was more than thankful that Chan had given him that opportunity, of course, but what was bothering him was the pain-in-the-ass creative block he was beginning to struggle with.

Not only was he struggling to find inspiration for a song he'd wanted to make, but the process seemed almost painfully slow, with how he'd fumble around with ideas that he would start on but eventually scrap, deciding that he 'wasn't feeling it'.

He'd started receiving commissions for tattoo designs, and you'd noticed he wasn't at home as often as he was before because he'd made it a point to coop himself up in the studio to try to churn out these design requests.

Fortunately, his customers were always satisfied (and he thought that was great, you know, with all the good words from Chan he was getting), but he wasn't.

Chan had seemed to sense this too, making sure to check in on Jisung more than usual during this period.

"Hey, I'm heading home a little earlier today, you'll be fine alone?"

Jisung's head lifted when he heard Chan's voice, pulling one of his earbuds from his ear as he nodded.

Chan glanced at Jisung's papers scattered around him, of half-done or halfway-abandoned sketches, giving him a look of sympathy, "don't work too hard, alright?" he huffed, glancing out of the window.

"I heard it might rain tonight, so make sure you get home before the rain hits, alright?"

Jisung waved Chan off, not paying any care to the impending rain as he bid Chan goodbye, continuing to tap his pencil on the table in his search for good ideas.

Maybe he needed to consult a lifeline.

"Hello, Lucas?"

The said lifeline was more than happy to hear Jisung's voice, having heard from you that he wasn't home as much recently, a part of him concerned as well.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

Jisung hummed, "wanted to ask if you had any ideas on what tattoos you think would be cool."

Lucas snorted, "you're asking me? You could draw a turd and i'd want to get it tattooed. Dude, you're too good, just go with your gut."

Jisung let out a whine, "my gut's not being very useful right now."

Lucas hummed, letting out an urgent grunt of surprise, "I know! Why don't you take a look at your older designs, maybe they'd give you some vibes or something."

Jisung shrugged, figuring this was probably the best advice he was gonna get, thanking Lucas before hanging up.

Picking up his tablet, Jisung had scrolled through his various sketches until he'd reached the very first few designs, sighing at the sight of the sketches, looking at his first sketch of a peony flower, with leaves dangling along the stem wedged between the budding flowers.

Jisung figured he wouldn't let his dissatisfaction subside until he tried doing a better rendition of the sketch, to refine the shading or the flow of the shape from what he'd learnt from Chan overtime.

Putting back his earbuds in, he turned his music up, beginning to work on the sketch, riding on the motivation he was afraid would disappear at any given moment.

Jisung was surprised at how fast he was done, ( only to look at the clock and realise he wasn't that fast and that it was already a little past midnight ). Removing his earbuds and going back to the sound of the whirring air conditioner and the loud sound of rain thumping against the gravel outside, Jisung knew he was done for.

He hadn't brought an umbrella with him, and the rain frankly didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, Jisung contemplated his very limited options.

Was a binder enough to shield him from the rain? Probably not. But was it better than putting down his pride to text you to come and pick him up? He thought the binder was better, honestly.

Deciding to try his luck anyway, he'd sent you a text.

Little did Jisung know, you'd dozed off on your bed while reading, the vibration of your phone next to your face having woken you from your nap, the sound of the rain outside harshly thumping against the window.

han jisung 12:37am -hello, housemate. it is your housemate, han jisung. its raining rly badly. wld u be so kind as to come to the tattoo studio with an umbrella for me pls :D-

You frowned in annoyance, your eyes barely open as you replied him. There was no way you were going to send yourself out in the thunderstorm like that.

12:37am - no. just wait until it stops raining-

Thinking that had settled your worries, you'd shoved your phone underneath your pillow, deciding you'd let yourself sleep in since tomorrow was a Saturday after all.

You should've known better, that this was Jisung, the 'i'm tougher than a little bit of rain' Jisung, so you should've seen it coming when you'd woken up to the sound of his incessantly ringing phone.

Rolling out of your bed with a grunt, you'd pushed yourself off of the bed, ready to confront Jisung about not answering his phone.

Walking across the corridor and pushing his bedroom door open, you'd been met with an empty room, frowning as you walked over to the bed, picking the phone up and stopping the alarm.

You noticed that he'd received a few texts from Chan, not being able to help yourself from reading them.

chan 1:20am - dude! why didnt u just wait for the rain to stop?- 1:22am -  ure gna fall sick…-

Frowning, you made your way into the living room, spotting Jisung curled up on the sofa with his blanket at his feet, an instant feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Jisung?” You called, seeing his eyebrows furrow slightly.

In spite of yourself, you’d walked over to where he lay, your hand coming out to nudge at his shoulder with his phone.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You watched and waited as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at you in a daze. There was perspiration beading at his temples despite the coolness of the apartment, giving you more reason to feel like there was something wrong.

As much as you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were responsible for him, and it was kind of your fault that he’d walked back in the rain. You glanced at your brightly-coloured umbrella leaning against the wall, figuring there was something about this umbrella that always got you into trouble with Jisung.

You suppressed your hesitation, bringing a hand up to his forehead, Jisung not even daring to budge even an inch as you pushed his bangs back. The back of your hand pressing against his forehead gently, your breath hitching at the sheer heat of his body.

This was probably the most contact you’d ever had with him in your months of living together, and Jisung knew this too, not knowing how to feel about the concern you were showing him, feeling as though it was some kind of ridiculous fever dream.

“You walked home in the rain didn’t you?” You murmured, your feeling of guilt growing as you saw him nod at you.

You cursed inwardly, “do you have a thermometer?” 


Jisung shook his head, attempting to get up, “it’s fine, I can take care of myself, just give me my phone.”

You handed him his phone, ignoring his previous statement as you went into the kitchen in your search for any kind of medicine you could give him, cursing once again when you realised there was none. Trust the both of you to only care to buy groceries.

“We don’t have jack shit in this house,” you groaned, walking over to the bathroom, finding a cloth and a small pail to fill with cold water, bringing it over to the coffee table and setting it down next to the sofa.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Jisung sighed, though he made no move to get up, a part of him just waiting for you to refute him so he could use you as an excuse to get off work.

You shot him a look, “no, you don’t. Shut up and lie down, I’ll go and buy your stupid medicine. If I come back and you’re not here I’ll kill you,” you warned, missing the way Jisung had complied happily, lying back down with his head on one of the sofa cushions.

Squeezing the water from the cloth, you may have slapped it a little harshly on his forehead, earning an annoyed glare from him.

Walking to grab your wallet, you cast one last look at his bored face, seeing him rush to close his eyes when he saw you glaring.

“I mean it, you better stay here.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off.

On your way to the pharmacy, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing that Jisung was sick.

In terms of your pros, if he was sick, he wouldn’t be able to annoy you, right? And him being sick meant that you’d basically had your desk and your bedroom to yourself, with him unable to practice tattooing in your room and use your desk as his sketching station.

In terms of your cons… well, you were planning on getting some rest today, and having to watch Jisung meant you would technically have to be near him, wouldn’t you? You were starting to wonder if that was even a con that he was basically giving you an excuse to laze around and watch tv.

“Hi, how may I help you?” The pharmacist asked.

You hummed, “uh…do you have those over-the-counter medicine and stuff for like someone with fever?”

The pharmacist nodded, pulling out the various boxes and pointing at each one, confusing you with the sheer amount of names she was listing, resulting in you just choosing the one you recognised your parents telling you to take whenever you were sick.

Making your payment, you swallowed whatever pride you had that was making you hesitate. You figured Jisung falling sick was karma for that text you sent him the night before, so you decided that you were going to see him recover for yourself.

Upon returning to the house, you’d shrugged your jacket off, making your way over to where he was, sitting on your heels next to where he was so you could gently peel the cloth from his head, replacing it with one that was soaked in colder water.

You’d drawn back slightly when you felt Jisung flinch as you laid the towel on his forehead, opening one eye to look at you, “that was fast.”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you took the medicine out, along with a glass of water you’d gotten from the kitchen, bringing it over to him with an expectant look.

Jisung took them from you wordlessly, swallowing them down as he averted his gaze from you, unsure why you were looking at him like some kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, reaching over to grab the television remote in an attempt to calm your nerves, “this is kind of my fault. Since I didn’t go over to the tattoo studio yesterday.”

Jisung took a moment to process what you said, wincing as he let out a (fake) cough, only serving to make you feel even more guilty than you already were.

“Are you actually…apologising to me?” Jisung’s smile was poorly hidden behind his hand, making you roll your eyes, your guilt ever-present when you looked at him.

Jisung sighed, deciding to let you off this once, “seriously, it’s no big deal. I didn’t expect you to come, anyway. I was just trying my luck,” he told you, making you frown, your mouth forming a slight pout.

“I was just being petty, I’m…” you trailed off, shaking your head, “yeah, whatever, I’m just really sorry.”

Jisung looked at you with a hint of a smile on his face, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was his fever, or the way your gestures were exuding warmth, but Jisung swore just for a moment. A second, almost, he kind of thought you looked cute.

Jisung nodded, “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

You frowned, turning away from the television to face him, your back resting on the sofa slightly, “let me know about what?”

Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the television, bringing his hand up to scratch at his collarbone, hints of his tattoos peeking out from his neckline.


Shrugging, Jisung’s gaze shifted to meet yours, “if your apology is accepted.”

You were sure that your mom would’ve just laughed in your face if you told her about your experience today, as you began to realise just how much you didn’t hate Jisung’s company when the both of you weren’t trying to fight each other.

In the few hours that had passed alone, you’d learnt much more about him than you had bothered to in your months living with him. You’d learnt that he was a music major, that wanted to pursue a career in music production, and that he’d gotten interested in tattoos when he’d met this kid named Changbin in his class, who introduced him to Chan for an apprenticeship.

As for Jisung? He was just learning that you weren’t as intolerable as he thought you were.

You’d ordered food for the both of you, Jisung having refused to eat porridge, and you were currently having an actual, comfortable conversation with him, the hallmark movie playing on the television long forgotten.

Jisung’s phone had started to ring, interrupting him mid-sentence as he told you about how the tattoo studio works, making you lean over to check who it was.

“It’s Chan.”

Jisung grimaced, “speak of the devil,” he scoffed. Shaking his head vigorously as you made to grab his phone, Jisung set his chopsticks down hurriedly to reach for his phone, only to grab air when you’d answered the call.

“Hello?” You heard Chan speak, an urgency to his tone.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Jisung is…not feeling so well right now.”

Jisung shot you a look, bringing his hands around his throat with his chopsticks held between his fingers, acting as if he was so sick he was about to pass out, making loud coughing noises in the background.

You couldn’t help but smile, scrunching your nose and waving him off in your attempt to get him to stop before he choked on his food.

Chan sighed, “Is he, now? Tell him I’m shifting today’s appointment to next Wednesday. Anyway, thanks, Y/N, bye,” he hung up promptly after.

You gave Jisung a grim look, setting the phone down slowly onto the coffee table, “Chan said he’s shifting your appointment to Wednesday.”

Jisung’s lips parted, almost forgetting his cheeks were full of food, tilting his head back to groan.

“Chan’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?”

Jisung shoved more food into his mouth, chewing slowly, “I totally forgot, I was supposed to do this girl’s tattoo today, but cause I’m, you know, sick,” he gave you a pointed look, “I can’t do it.”

“You do tattoos already? I thought you were still just…”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “what? Still just tattooing on fake skin?”

You nodded sheepishly, earning a sigh from him, though you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know, I can tattoo people now. You know Lucas’ tattoo of the angel looking mermaid hybrid type thing?”

You hummed in thought, his description oddly specific yet successfully helping you visualise the tattoo, gesturing to your forearm, “the one he got here?”

Jisung nodded, “I did that for him.”

Your eyes widened, impressed at the scale of Jisung’s detail in his design, remembering how enamoured you were with it when Lucas had first showed it to you.

“Lucas’ been asking me to get a tattoo with him once the break starts,” you mentioned casually, earning a surprised hum from Jisung.

“Oh,” his eyes widened, as if he was still trying to process what you said, “really?”

You nodded, “still thinking about it, though. Haven’t really decided on what I wanted.”

Jisung scooped the last of his food into his mouth, giving you as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster.

“Well, uh, you know, if you want or something you could come one of the days during the break, I could show you some stuff I think you’d like.”

You nodded, the simple suggestion somehow exciting you.

That night, you’d gotten ready for bed, having made sure Jisung ate his medicine before he went to sleep.

Before you could move to switch the lights off, he’d stopped you/

“Wait, like…can you um… leave the lamp on?” You raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless, figuring this was your chance to repent while he was sick.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“Yeah, night…” he murmured, inhaling deeply, “oh, and Y/N?”

You frowned, “uh-huh?” Looking at him expectantly, your breath hitched at the sight of the small smile that made its way on his face, the moonlight casting a calm glow in the room that mirrored his expression.

“Apology accepted.”

You smiled, nodding before you left. Hopefully this meant things were looking up for your relationship.

===

After that day, it was as if something in your dynamic had shifted, you found that Jisung was giving you lesser and lesser reasons to be annoyed at him.

Lucas had gotten a kick out of it when you’d told him about it.

“You guys finally realised it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to each other?” You remembered him telling you.

You would beg to differ, though, because with this shift in dynamic came a whole lot of awkwardness, especially when one of you had done something mildly nice for the other person.

Take this instance, for example.

You’d been sitting at your desk, trying to finish up on your essay that was due that week, not wanting to let your motivation subside without making full use of it (also because you knew if you didn’t do it now, you’d procrastinate and stress out when you realised you were behind time).

You’d been able to faintly smell Jisung’s noodles that he was cooking in the kitchen, making you sigh. You didn’t like eating things after you had your dinner, but you couldn’t lie and say that they didn’t smell great.

Expecting to hear his bedroom door shut and feel the smell of the noodles get fainter, he’d surprised you when he made his way over to you, setting a mug containing a hot drink on your desk.

Turning to him abruptly, he’d flinched back, looking at you with wide eyes as his hands flew up over his chest, making you laugh.

“I’m not gonna hit you, calm down.”

Jisung relaxed (albeit hesitantly), one of his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck, gesturing towards the mug with his other hand.

“Go ahead, I uh…didn’t poison it or anything,” a huff of awkward laughter left him.

You glanced from the mug to him, nodding slowly, “thanks.”

“Don’t, you know…sleep too late, and stuff,” he told you, earning a nod from you.

He nodded back at you, giving you a close-lipped smile before practically jogging back to his room, the door shutting a little louder than usual, a yelp of apology echoing after.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to to be nice to him either, but frankly, he wasn’t giving you many opportunities to do so.


Jisung was still keeping his worries to himself, with his creative block seeming to have spiralled him into heavy feelings of anxiousness and a lack of confidence in his abilities.

You figured that things had been weighing heavy on his mind when you realised he’d been intentionally keeping the light on more often when he slept, or how the typing sounds of his keyboard would get more frequent as it got later into the night.

You’d even had Chan pleading for you to check up on Jisung every now and then once you noticed that he’d been sleeping a lot more and eating at irregular intervals. Listening out for his humming every now and then, you noticed the melodies seemed to have taken a more slow-paced, almost melancholic turn.

One night, you’d decided that if Jisung wasn’t going to give you opportunities to be nice to him, you would just create them for yourself. Making a determined trip to the kitchen, you’d boiled his favourite type of instant ramen, having seen how he made it so many times you knew just what to add in.

Padding over to his room, you’d knocked on the door before pushing it open slightly, watching him straighten up where he sat on his bed, setting his iPad down beside him, his thigh blocking it from your view.

“Hey, I uh…here,” you cut to the chase, Jisung was quick to find something to put under the pot on his bed, opening it and looking at you wordlessly.

“Figured the both of us could use a break,” you shrugged, oblivious to the way your words had stirred something within Jisung.

“What were you working on?” You asked, scooping some noodles into a bowl for Jisung and handing it to him.

He’d taken the bowl from you absently, his eyes widening at the mention of the sketch, unconsciously pushing it further behind him.

“Nothing, I was just doodling.”

Jisung had no idea how to explain that he had been trying to design something for you, something that reminded him of you. Because frankly, that was the only thing that seemed to be pushing his creative block aside at the moment.

“Can I see?”

Usually, Jisung would’ve fought you ( to the death ) before he’d let you see his unfinished designs, but there was something about your demeanour that made him feel like it was okay to show you. That it was okay to tell you that it wasn’t perfect because something inside of him just told him that you would understand.

In spite of any rational fibre in his being, he’d picked up the tablet, giving it to you as he continued to eat the ramen, his gaze never leaving your expression, oblivious to your scrolling as he was too busy gauging your reaction.

“These are all really pretty,” you told him, scrolling until you’d reached the bottom, clicking on one of the drawings and flipping the screen around to show Jisung.

“I love this,” you told him, earning a surprised hum from him.

He saw that you’d clicked on the sketch of the peony that he’d tried to refine that day he got rained on, wondering what made you choose that out of all his designs, since he was probably the least satisfied with that one.

“Are you sure? What about this one?” He took the tablet from you, scrolling back to the design he was working on, making you hum thoughtfully, eventually shaking your head no.

“I like the other one better,” you told him, earning a confused hum from him.

“Why?”

You scoffed, frowning at him, “why are you so against it? You’re the one that drew it,” you took the tablet back from him, holding it against your shoulder before shaking your head, setting it back down onto your lap.

“Besides,” you murmured, zooming in to admire the shading on the flower, “I think it’s beautiful.”

Jisung’s expression was unreadable, unsure how you had such strong appreciation for something he thought was his worst work, something about the way you praised it making a strange feeling that he couldn’t place build within his chest.

It was like before, the feeling of comfort, that he didn’t have to worry about any kind of creative block that could be thrown his way because you gave him a different perspective on his abilities.

You know, the cliché, hard-hitting feeling that ‘everything is gonna be okay’.

“Do you have anything happening during the break?” You asked, earning a shrug from him.

“I’ve gotta submit my song to Chan’s music producer friend.”

You perked up at the mention of Jisung’s song, “have you thought of what you wanted to do for it yet?”

Jisung shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, “it’s been kind of stressing me out, to be honest,” he admitted.

“I like…I don’t wanna give him something that doesn’t show what I’m capable of, you know?”

You nodded, “I understand…I wish I could help you but I don’t really, you know, know how,” you fidgeted with your fingers, hearing him grunt in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” he mustered a confident smile, “nothing I can’t handle.”

And for a moment, you really would’ve believed that he’d gotten it handled. Leaving him to continue with his work as you got ready for bed.

You had almost anticipated to hear typing sounds as you did every night these days. But unlike the other nights, Jisung didn’t very well feel like being alone with his thoughts that night, not even wanting to type them down. He craved the feeling of being okay, of feeling like he still had time and didn’t have to be anxious or feel shitty about his mediocre work.

So it had come as a surprise to you when you’d heard the gentle knock at your door that night just as you were about to drift into a half-asleep state, hearing the door open and watching as Jisung made his way hesitantly over to where you were.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You heard him let out a shaky breath, and you didn’t need to ask him further, giving him a small hum of approval as he’d pulled the small heated mat from under your bed and made himself comfortable next to your bed.

Jisung let his head hit the ground gently, a deep sigh leaving him as he closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave the lamp on?” You mumbled, hearing him hum.

“No, it’s fine,” he told you, strangely not feeling much of a need for it now that he had you near him.

The both of you knew better than to speak more, the silence seeming to have made you understand how he was feeling. And as he lay there, with your presence in the room, Jisung felt alright, and so did you.

That night, there were no typing sounds.  

===

Contrary to yesterday, you'd started today on a good note. Having bumped into Jisung the next morning after he'd gotten ready, meeting in the hallway when you were still dressed in your sleepwear, you couldn't help but smile.

"Morning," he murmured, a small smile on his face as he gave you a little wave, leaving promptly to meet Chan at the tattoo studio.

You didn't have work today, and you'd arranged a meeting with Lucas to hang out, the boy not seeming to want to waste anymore time when he'd finally arrived at the mall, practically bounding over to where you were waiting at the fountain in the atrium.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" he asked you, extending a hand to help you up.

Frowning, your lips parted in confusion, "thought about what?"

Lucas gave you an unamused look, as if you should've known what he was talking about. Pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, he'd raised his hands as he gestured, "you know, about what tattoo you wanted to get."

You made your way to a bubble tea outlet that Lucas wanted to check out, pestering you to go with him as part of the things he’d wanted to do during the semester break.

You couldn't help but laugh at the realisation, feeling awfully giddy at the thought of yesterday.

It was just a simple interaction, yeah, whatever, but no one said there were rules on what could make your heart flutter and what couldn't. All you knew was that whatever happened yesterday, did.

"Yeah, I did," you confessed, huffing with a smile on your face.

Lucas didn't know whether to feel afraid or happy that you were so quick to decide this time, looking at you in concern, "okay...so, what did you decide on?"

You pursed your lips, your smile disappearing, "I don't have a picture with me, it's on Jisung's ipad. But it's really pretty, it's like this drawing of a flower," you explained.

Lucas' eyes widened, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to conceal his growing excitement.

"Oh, it's one of Jisung's stuff?"

You nodded, not seeming to understand why he was so happy about that, "what?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "you and Jisung seem to be on pretty good terms recently, huh.”

You scoffed, shrugging because it wasn't as if what he said was a lie.

Lucas leaned closer to you, "have you been smiling at him more these days?"

You frowned at his question, shrugging at him nonetheless, turning your attention back to the menu board, "yeah, I guess."

Lucas' giggles escaped him like bubbles, nodding at you knowingly, “perfect. You should definitely keep doing that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “questionable advice, but I’ll take it. Anyway, when are you planning on getting it done?"

Lucas straightened up, lifting his phone slightly to check the date.

"I made an appointment for Chan to do mine next Tuesday," he told you, “have you asked your parents yet?”

You nodded, “they weren’t as supportive until they found out Jisung designed it, they just told me not to get anything I’ll regret.”

Lucas couldn’t miss his opportunity to tease you, “well, I’m sure if Jisung’s doing it, the last thing you’d do is regret it.”

Shoving him aside and ignoring the way he’d burst into a fit of giggles, you ordered your drink, and Lucas’ as well once he calmed down enough to point at what he wanted on the menu.

“Maybe you should text him and ask about when you can book him?” Lucas gestured to you with his drink, his leg bouncing absently as he looked around the small outlet, the group of high-school girls in their uniforms sitting next to your table giggling as he’d skimmed over their table.

“Do you think that’d be too much? Should I just ask Chan instead?” You glanced at him for a sign of approval, “but then if I ask Chan would it make Jisung think I don’t want him to do my tattoo?” You wondered out loud, your stream of thought proving to be fairly amusing to Lucas.

“Just text him, it’s not that deep,” Lucas sipped on his drink.

“Nah, you know what? I should just ask him later at home, I shouldn’t bother him when he’s at work,” you shrugged, earning a sound of dismissal from him.

“Texting him would be a lot faster, you know.”

You shot him a look, “why are you so insistent on me texting him?”

Lucas scoffed, “why are you so against it?” He shot back.

Giving him a look of feigned annoyance, you’d set your phone down onto the table, staring blankly as Lucas had turned it to face him, unlocking your phone and going to Jisung’s chat.

“How should I start? ‘hey baby’—”

Your eyes widened, about to snatch the phone back from him when he’d pulled it towards himself in time, shooting you a look of feigned confusion.

“What? Too mild?” He laughed.

Sighing as he calmed down from his laughter, he shook his head slowly as he typed out a message, “man, you’re so bad at this,” he murmured.

“What makes you say that?”

Lucas pressed something on your phone with finality, scrolling up as he showed you your previous texts with Jisung. Texts like:

1:09pm - dont eat my chips get ur own - or texts like


10:11pm - keep it down! Im trying to study -

Jisung 10:11pm -well so am I!-

“All you guys ever text each other for is to ask each other to do things, how can you expect him to like you if you’re always telling him to separate his lights and darks?”

You took the phone back from Lucas with a huff, “leave me alone. And who said anything about wanting him to like me?”

Lucas looked as though you’d just asked him an obvious question, looking almost scandalised at your denial, “really? You went from ‘oh, I don’t wanna bother Jisung at work’ and ‘oh, heehee me and Jisung ate ramen together yesterday night’ to ‘who said anything about my big fat crush on Jisung’?”

You huffed, “that’s inaccurate.”

Lucas chewed on his tapioca pearls harshly, making sure you heard the smacking sounds of his chewing to unnerve you, shaking his head at you matter-of-factly, “it’s pretty much-what’s the word, ah! Verbatim. That.”


You rolled your eyes at him, wondering how the high-school girls sitting next to you still managed to find Lucas an absolute dreamboat despite how intentionally ridiculously he was behaving.

The truth is, Jisung wouldn’t have cared if you’d ‘bothered him during work or not’. He probably would’ve jumped at the notification of your text.

After the night before, Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of comfort that flooded him at the thought of you. Finally getting enough inspiration to work on his song when he’d gotten home, even despite the pounding in his head and the sheer fatigue from the day that had passed.

Call him whatever you wanted, but Jisung couldn’t shake the feeling of reassurance he got with you, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d be experiencing as deeply as he did now.

From how familiar it was to hear your voice (even if it was asking him to fold the laundry), to how the smell of your perfume would awaken him on certain days, just in time for him to start his routine for the day. In small things, like how whenever he was looking for a break from work, somehow he’d find it with you.

He’d been working on his song for hours now, though he’d kept letting his gaze wander to the door in anticipation, wondering what was taking you so long to get home. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were still with Lucas, his imagination running wild with all sorts of scenarios that could have taken place to warrant you coming home so late.

Jisung brushed the thought away quickly after he found himself going to your contact on his phone, setting it down quickly as if it burned him. It was fine, you were an adult (he figured), you didn’t need him to hound you about a curfew.

Deciding to work on his lyrics for the song, he’d typed away on his laptop his ideas, his mind seeming to always gravitate to thinking of you as he read what he’d typed down.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d gotten done for that day, Jisung had let his head lean back against the armrest of the sofa, his legs bent as he lay on his side, letting his eyes rest from all that staring at his glaringly bright computer screen.

You’d gone for a late-night movie with Lucas to end off your day, having gone home later than usual, though you didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if you had a curfew anymore.

You managed to reach your apartment as stealthily as you could, since the walls were really that thin and you didn’t want the old lady from next door to get on your back for being noisy when she was trying to sleep or whatever again.

Shoving your keys into the keyhole, you frowned when you saw that the lights in the living room were still switched on, spotting Jisung lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, his head lolling to the side as he dozed off.

Going into your room (in stealth mode, again), you’d set your things down quietly, deciding to take a shower and get ready for bed before anything else. Suddenly everything seemed to be a thousand times louder than you were used to. You were sure Jisung hadn’t been getting much quality sleep recently, so seeing him dozing off on the sofa had only made you want to ensure that his sleep continued uninterrupted.

Once you were changed into your sleepwear, you’d gone into Jisung’s room, taking a soft blanket from his cupboard and bringing it over to where he was, draping it over him till it reached his shoulders. You couldn’t help but find how peaceful he looked to be rather endearing, wishing you could do more but knowing there wasn’t much else you could do.

Jisung considered himself a good actor, because on the inside he was far from peaceful. He’d awoken at the feeling of being covered by the blanket, the back of your fingers grazing against his arm slightly.

His heart had fluttered, extremely, at the gesture, though something in him was yelling at him not to open his eyes, wanting to savour the moment for himself. It felt warm, a comfortable kind of warmth, the kind you would want to bask in for hours after being in the cold for so long. Something like a ray of sunshine.

Jisung was convinced he was going mad.

Switching on the lamp at your desk so that the living room wouldn’t be in complete darkness, you’d switched off the lights in the living room, bidding a silent goodnight to Jisung in your head before you’d gone back to your room, leaving Jisung dumbfounded.

===

“What did you say the song was called, again?” Chan had asked Jisung on Tuesday morning, looking at him with an endeared smile.

Jisung felt shy for some reason, pressing his lips together firmly as he averted his gaze from Chan, preparing his equipment as he waited for you and Lucas to arrive.

“Sunshine,” Jisung told him.

Chan huffed, his smile growing bigger, “I like that,” he hummed.

“What’s it about?” Chan asked, pulling his phone out to check for a text, “also, Lucas says they’re nearby.”

Jisung shrugged, “what’s it about?” He echoed Chan’s question, as if not knowing for himself either, something about him seeming fairly preoccupied, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”

Chan nodded in understanding, glancing at the way Jisung fiddled with the practice sketch he’d done of Y/N’s tattoo, twirling it around in his hands and anxiously glancing towards the door.

“Nervous?”

Jisung’s head shot up to look at Chan with wide eyes, “huh?…” he nodded slowly, “yeah, kind of.”

A small smile played at Chan’s lips as the boy had finished up the stencil for Lucas’ tattoo. “Is it because it’s Y/N?”

Jisung let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, duh,” he mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I’m nervous because she’s the one getting the tattoo but more like…”

Jisung shrugged, “I still don’t understand why she chose this out of all the designs I had.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, the jingling of the bells at the door followed by a loud guffaw of laughter signalling to him that the both of you had arrived.

“You should take more pride in your work,” Chan pat Jisung on the back, almost sending the boy stumbling with the sheer force behind the hit. Though Jisung couldn’t very well pay attention to the pain in his shoulder once he saw you with Lucas.

Lucas was quick to shove you towards Jisung, going over to one of the beds with Chan as they discussed the placement of the tattoo.

Jisung was almost uncharacteristically tense, leading you over to the station across from Lucas and Chan, holding the stencil up for you to see, “you’re absolutely sure you want this?”

You rolled your eyes, nodding, “yes, I’m sure.”

Jisung nodded slowly, albeit hesitantly, at you, “have you figured out where you want it?”

Lucas had perked up at that, butting into the conversation despite being across the room, “we were thinking between two places.”

Jisung hummed as he’d gone over to take the tablet containing a form for you to fill out before he got started.

You shushed Lucas quickly, accepting the tablet from Jisung with a nod of thanks, “yeah, I was thinking between here,” you gestured under your collarbone, “or here,” you gestured to your shoulder, just above your shoulder-blade.

Jisung nodded, “which do you feel more comfortable with? I think both are alright.”

“I was thinking maybe here?” You held a hand over the space under your collarbone, earning a nod from him.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking the tablet from you once you were done and quietly gesturing for you to lie down.

In your haste to get it over with, you’d almost completely forgotten about the placement of your tattoo, Jisung quirking an eyebrow at you and letting a huff of nervousness escape him.

“Sorry uh, I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured, pulling the collar of your shirt down to expose the area you’d wanted tattooed, making Lucas (who was watching intently) snicker from where he sat.

You’d felt heat creeping up to your neck, making you stretch your neck to look elsewhere, deciding to focus on the black pipes lining the ceiling, your shyness reducing your voice to a mere mumble, “yeah, sorry.”

Your nerves had built up even more with how tense Jisung was, even as he had disinfected the area and transferred what looked like a blue-ish outline of his sketch to your skin, making you almost want to writhe in your place with how nervous you were growing.

However, once you’d heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, it was as if you were transported into your room, the familiarity of the sound making you less nervous, simply anticipating the pain that you’d associated with the tattoo to occur.

It was a wonder you hadn’t even been able to think much about the pain of the tattoo, though, because you were too busy trying to ignore Jisung’s proximity to you.

He was a stark contrast from Chan, who was making conversation with Lucas throughout the process, whereas Jisung had simply loomed over you, a tense knit to his brow and his lips pressed tightly together. Just by your expressions alone, people would have thought he was the one getting the tattoo.

This was only so because Jisung was struggling, with the smell of your perfume making him feel more awake than ever, and not to mention the pressure to make sure the tattoo turned out well that weighed heavy on him. Everything about you was so familiar, yet everything about the experience was not, and it was driving Jisung crazy with the amount of tension it was making him feel.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gauging your face for any sign that you were in too much pain.

You wanted to laugh, “This is like the fifth time you’re asking me that,” you told him.

“Can’t help it,” he told you, and you swore you saw his cheeks start to tint pink, “just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know…since it’s your first tattoo, and all.”

You nodded reassuringly, “it’s fine, just keep going.”

Jisung nodded, “I’ll be done quicker than you know it, I swear.”

You continued to distract yourself with the sight of Lucas across the room, Chan having to bring the needle back whenever Lucas couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“I’m sorry, It tickles,” you heard him tell Chan, making you have to stifle your laughter.

“Can I ask you something?” You decided that maybe talking to Jisung would help time pass faster (and less awkwardly).

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, shifting his chair slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You asked, earning a long, reflective hum from him.

“I got a few in the time after college started, I would say about 5 or 6 now?” He shrugged, “and if you’re gonna ask me what’s their meanings…I don’t really know how to explain it, I just like the feeling they give me when I look at them.”

“I get it, it’s expression after all.”

Jisung nodded, his focus returning and making him let the conversation still. You didn’t like that, the feeling of awkwardness that returned with his silence, making you wrack your brains to find any sort of other conversation topic you could think of.

“Are you seeing anyone?” You wanted to instantly hide your face once you heard the words leave your mouth, Lucas turning to you with a wide-eyed expression.

Jisung sputtered, pulling the tattoo gun away from your skin, shaking his head at you.

“Uh, no, I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to regain his confidence in the situation, “why’d you wanna know?”

Now it was your turn to flush, averting your gaze, “oh, you know, just…curious, is all.”

Jisung smirked, “well, don’t go getting any ideas. I already like someone,” he told you, feeling as though he was dangling a carrot right in front of you.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, “really? Who?”

Jisung shrugged, “it’s a secret.”

You frowned, wanting to get back at him but not quite knowing how, deciding to go with the first thing you could think of, “well, I like someone too, you’re not special.”

Jisung hadn’t expected you to retort with that, narrowing his eyes at you, “wait, really? Is it Lucas?”

“Oh my god, no way, never.”

“Then who is it?” He met your gaze, making you stick your tongue out at him, mustering your best impersonation of him.

“It’s a secret.”

You had almost thought you were imagining things, but you noticed Jisung’s mood take a turn from there, seeming awfully pensive as he did the rest of your tattoo, the both of you having maintained a silence after your failed attempt at a proper conversation with him. He’d already begun to do the shading for your tattoo, so you figured he was really going to be done quicker than you thought.

You tried to distract yourself by glancing towards Lucas and Chan’s direction. Jisung could see you staring in their direction from the corner of his eye, wondering why your gaze kept travelling there when he was right in front of you.

“Is it Chan?” He blurted out, making your eyes go wide in shock.

Your smile grew, shaking your head, “no, definitely not.”

Jisung frowned, “who could it even be, you don’t even know that many people,” he huffed.

You sighed, trust you to fall for someone as oblivious as him.

“Do you want a clue?” You asked, earning a grunt from him.

“They’re very oblivious.”

Jisung frowned, looking as though he were contemplating, his tissue going over your tattoo slower as he thought. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, a gasp leaving him.

“No way, it’s not that Felix kid from your department, is it?” He looked as though he was hoping you would say no.

You fought to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, yet not realising you were smiling at him, “no, it’s not him.”

Jisung sighed, “oh, good. I know I always say I’m the best looking but he’s a lot better looking than I am, don’t tell him I said that.”

“Good?” You questioned, wondering why he seemed so relieved that all his options had turned out to be false. Jisung had realised he may have made things a little too obvious, shaking his head vigorously.

“Nothing, you’re all done, forget I said anything.”

He pushed himself away from you, his chair swivelling far back as he tried to calm the racing of his heart as you sat up and stretched, your body tired from being in the same position for so long.

“What time is it?” You asked, earning a grunt from Jisung, not knowing either.

Chan had chimed in from the other side, having been done with Lucas’ tattoo way before yours.

“It’s 4:24,” he told you. Jisung had been busy putting an adhesive bandage over your tattoo to pay attention to your reaction.

You spent 4 hours lying there and you only got like what, two conversations with Jisung? This was a new low, even for you.


You were snapped out of your disappointment when Jisung had spoken.

“Uh… yeah keep this on for like three to four days?” He gestured to the bandage, your breath hitching as he hiked the collar of your shirt up so it wasn’t still dropping off your shoulder.

“You can still shower and everything so yeah…” he told you, reciting from memory after having been told this a thousand times by Chan.

You tried your best to pay attention, though you knew you’d probably forget by the time you were home, making him stand up mid-speech and walk over to the counter, pulling out a little brochure to hand you.

“Honestly, just read this, it has everything you need to know inside,” he told you, walking away briskly to compose himself at his station.

You’d made your payment to Chan at the counter, Jisung having pretended to be busy with cleaning up, making Chan flash you an amused smile.

“What?”

He shook his head, dimples appearing as he gave you your receipt, “You two are just too cute,” he huffed, earning a loud hum of approval from Lucas.

“Aren’t they?” The tall boy chimed in, making you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bye,” you waved, seeing Jisung turn around to give you a wide smile before turning back around, practically collapsing onto the bed once you and Lucas were gone.

“Those were the most excruciating 4 hours of my life.”

Chan’s laughter could be heard as he made his way over to Jisung, giving him a pat on the back, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Jisung let out a loud groan, “we were like this close!” Jisung brought his hand in front of his face for emphasis as he whined to Chan, “and I couldn’t focus at all I was so scared I was gonna screw up her tattoo because I kept zoning out,” he rambled, feeling as though his knees were about to buckle.

Chan shook his head with a feigned look of sympathy, looking at Jisung as though Jisung were his son, “I’m glad you’re feeling stressed.”

Jisung scoffed, shrugging Chan’s hand off of his shoulder and  glaring at his mentor with a look of disbelief, “you’re glad? Aren’t you supposed to be feeling some sympathy for me? That’s sick, I can’t believe you.”

Chan wasn’t surprised at Jisung’s dramatic reaction, simply laughing as he shrugged.

“I’m glad because if you’re stressed, you’re gonna be pushed to do something about it soon. And then I can stop hearing you stress about it and just see the both of you together, instead.”

Jisung shot Chan a dirty look, “you’re mean, old man.”

Chan scoffed, “at least I’m not stupid in love.”

===

Jisung had been keeping himself fairly busy since then, the both of you having been busy with your own plans since the semester break had started. However, the both of you had somehow managed to enjoy suppers together, bonding over a (rather unhealthy) meal of snacks or instant food whenever it was late in the night and the both of you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

And speaking of sleep, you’d also noticed how Jisung had started to look brighter these days, seeming to have been overcoming that period of lethargy he was previously in.

Now, the brightness was heard in the songs he hummed, in how he smiled and laughed more whenever you were together. Even in how he'd started growing more comfortable with sleeping in the dark. You weren’t sure what exactly sparked this change in him, but whatever it was, you were glad it happened, yourself seeming to be all the more enamoured with this version of Jisung that had grown on you.

You’d planned with Jisung to have a day of celebration (or a pity party) once he’d submitted his song to Chan’s music producer friend.

Since you had work that day, you’d wanted to get up early to prepare breakfast for him, but you didn’t realise how late you were until you woke up and found that he had already left.

Making your way over to the kitchen to find some food for yourself after you’d gotten ready for work, you yanked open the door for the fridge, expecting to be met with all of Jisung’s snacks and cans of drinks that still had their post-its on them.

However, as you were scanning the fridge to see if you had anything you could eat, you spotted a different coloured post-it on a bundle of juice packets, peeling the post-it off of the packaging to inspect it.

‘y/n, I heard these are great to start the morning with, try them for me?’

You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming up to your face to attempt to slap away the heat you felt in your cheeks, pulling out a packet of juice anyway.

You were starting to think the juice did have some sort of magical properties in them, because when you got to work, you’d been on drink duty, which was your favourite to do. Well, technically, anything other than cashier duty was your favourite but who’s keeping track here?

You knew Jisung's meeting with the producer was around the afternoon, so when Chan had shown up at the café alone, you didn't question it.

Now you were really glad you weren't on cashier duty today, giving your colleague more time to talk to Chan while he ordered.

"One strawberry smoothie for Chan?" you called to get his attention, seeing him stroll over to the pick-up point with a smile on his face.

"Sorry, Jisung's not here," he teased, sighing wistfully.

You scoffed, "yeah, yeah. I know where he is.”

“How’s the tattoo healing?” He asked, making your hand go up to your shoulder unconsciously, “It’s alright, looks really pretty now that it’s all healed.”

Chan gave you a thumbs up, opening the lid of his drink as he took a sip, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Is he meeting your friend now?"

Chan’s eyebrows raised in confusion, “who?..oh,” he nodded in realisation, “yeah, just went to meet him. Honestly, if you asked me, he didn’t seem as excited about the meeting as he was to meet you for dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “don’t put ideas into my head, old man.”

Chan simply gave you a shrug, “I’m not that old, you know,” he brought his drink up to his lips to take a sip, “and they’re only ideas if you’re in denial.”

You groaned, “go, begone, leave me alone.”

Chan giggled, nodding as his hand went up in surrender, “fine, I’m going. Have a good dinner later, Y/N,” he sing-songed.

Curse Chan for putting the thought into your head, now you couldn’t stop thinking about dinner.

Your shift only ended at 5:30, so that gave you just about enough time to go get groceries while Jisung prepared the things for your hotpot at home.

Deciding you would do what you were called to do, which in this case, meant to send Jisung a text wishing him the best of luck, you did as such.

2:31pm - hey, all the best for your meeting with the producer man!!-

Jisung’s reply had come quickly,

han jisung 2:32pm - thanks :( im waiting to see him now, I didn’t know there was gonna be a whole queue -

Setting your phone aside, you’d tried not to let yourself get too anxious while you waited for him to update you, busying yourself with washing dishes and even serving tables out of your sheer boredom due to the crowd starting to disperse at this time.

You waited, and you waited, you waited until the word ‘waiting’ itself felt weird to say in your head. You should’ve known better to have expected Jisung to update you over text, only receiving a text in the evening that read

han jisung 5:23pm - hey…i just finished meeting him…see u at the apartment?-

You’d texted him back, not knowing what to make of his text.

5:23pm - is that a good hey or a bad hey? -

Jisung hadn’t answered your question, his next text coming as more of a source of confusion for you.

han jisung 5:24pm - ill tell u in person -

“What happened? Is it Jisung?” Your colleague seemed to have sensed your inner turmoil, looking at you with concern etched in her features.

“Yeah, he told me he was done meeting the producer person…but he didn’t wanna tell me how it went,” you frowned, seeing your colleague hum in confusion.

“D’you think it didn’t go well?” She asked, mirroring your expression of uncertainty.

You typed out your reply to Jisung as you shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m hoping he’s just messing with me.”

5:26pm - my shift ends in like 4 minutes… I’ll go and get the groceries before I get back -

han jisung 5:26pm - okay, ill be waiting -

“All the best, then?” Your co-worker offered, giving you a look of sympathy.

“You too, enjoy the rest of your shift,” you returned her expression, sighing as you removed your apron, grabbing your bag from the back room before you left.

You’d tried your best to be quick in getting your groceries, making sure you’d gotten everything Jisung had told you to, your footsteps quick as you briskly walked to your apartment building.

Not knowing if it was because you hadn’t eaten in hours or if it was because you were just excited, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in you, not so much because you were excited to hear how Jisung’s meeting went but more of because you were excited that you were going to see Jisung soon.

Finally reaching your apartment, you’d pushed the door open to spot Jisung coming out from his room, a towel on his head as he rubbed at his freshly-washed hair.

“Hey,” you breathed, a hint of a smile on your face, scanning his face for an expression as he glanced at you, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose cutely.

Jisung had a whole plan for how he was going to surprise you with the news, he wanted to wait until the food was ready and when the both of you were seated across each other in the living room, wait for you to ask him about how the meeting went so that he could pretend to be upset about it.

And just like he’d seen in the romantic movie Chan was playing in the studio the other day, he would wait till you showed concern to give you a smile and tell you the good news, already being able to imagine the smile you would give him in celebration.

But seeing how you looked, a little bit breathless from rushing, carrying groceries in your hands as you looked at him with a smile that spelled nothing but relief, Jisung couldn’t help himself.

“He offered me a job,” Jisung confessed, his grip tight on his towel as he let his hand fall limp to his side, any perfect, fool-proof plan of copying the romance movie now long gone.

Your eyes widened, setting the groceries on the counter as you cheered, “oh my god, that’s great! I’m really happy for you!” You cheered, practically running towards him before stopping yourself halfway, realising you were almost about to hug him.

Jisung noticed you stop too, tilting his head at you as his hands had already begun to raise to welcome you into a hug, hesitating once he’d seen you stop.

“Sorry,” you huffed, shoving your hands into your pockets, taking a step back to create some distance between the both of you.

Jisung smiled, shaking his head, “don’t be.” Shocking you with his confidence, he’d taken a step closer to you, his arms going around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, his head leaning against yours gently as one of his hands went up to pet your head gently.

“You really helped me through it, believe it or not.”

Your eyes widened, trying not to get too carried away with the way his hold felt too comforting for you to pull away, thankful that he’d let go first, his hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

“You hungry? The soup’s almost done.”

You nodded, “can I uh…take a shower first? I’ll be quick I promise.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you’d escaped to the bathroom, too focused on showering quickly that you’d almost forgotten about the hug. Keyword, almost.

Once you’d changed into a comfortable shirt and shorts, you’d practically jogged over to the kitchen, seeing that Jisung had already taken out the ingredients to thaw the meat and prepare the veggies.

“Wow, who are you and what have you done with Jisung?”

Jisung turned around at your voice, rolling his eyes at your statement, flicking the water from the veggies at you as you dodged, “figured I’d do something while waiting, you know, make myself useful.”

You huffed, a smile on your face as you gestured for him to continue, “well, don’t let me stop you.”

“So how did the interview go?” You asked, watching intently as he brought the platefuls of ingredients to the coffee table, stopping you when you’d moved to help him get the pot of soup.

“It’s okay, you go sit down, I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help the impressed pout from your lips, not wanting to let on that the gesture had made your heart flutter.

Once all the food was on the table, Jisung had taken a seat next to you, the both of you starting to throw your ingredients into the soup, Jisung turning to you looking as though he’d wanted to say something.

“What was I saying before? Oh, right,” he nodded, “I didn’t expect him to be so intimidating, I nearly pissed myself when I walked into the room.”

You’d burst into laughter, Jisung laughing along with you, “I’m not even joking. Chan gave me a completely different description of what he would be like.”

You’d tried your best to calm down from your laughter quickly, seeing him take a piece of food from the pot and place it into your bowl wordlessly, choosing to ignore the gesture for the sake of your heart.

“But I’m assuming he’s not that bad? Since he offered you the job?”

Jisung let out a sigh, “yeah, thank god he did, I was a stuttering mess. Even Iwouldn’t have hired myself.”

You let out a chuckle, “you’re lucky he judged you based on the song, then,” you teased, earning a harmless glare from him.

You’d scooped some food into your mouth, looking up at him to see that he’d already had his cheeks full of food, nodding at you expectantly.

“So does this mean you’re gonna work on that producer guy’s team?” You asked, earning a nod from him as he swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince.

“Yeah, he said I could intern at his company in the holidays and if everything goes well he’ll give me a contract once I graduate.”

You let out a low whistle, “wow, imagine all the exposure you’d get there…all the different types of genres and artists you’d be exposed to,” you marvelled, Jisung finding it amusing how you seemed more excited about it than he was.

You perked up in realisation, “speaking of which…I realised you’d never let me listen to the song yet.”

Jisung flushed, shaking his head, “did I? I swear I did,” he lied, making you shove him, a smile showing on his face as you did, nodding in surrender as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“What’s it called?” You asked, seeing him nudge his glasses up with his knuckle, shaking his head to flick his hair from his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he told you quickly, not wasting anymore time and playing the song.

As he started to play the song, you were surprised at the light sounding melody the song had started with, the sounds of the city that he’d put inside, the feeling that you were…at home?

“Don’t look at me when you’re listening to it, I’m shy,” he brought a hand up to cover your face, making you yelp, your hands coming up to grab his wrist, pulling it away slowly as you grew more focused on the song, recognising his voice as he sang.

It wasn’t a love song, thankfully, you realised. You realised that the song revolved around a certain feeling of calm, with themes of getting away from the busy nature of your life and taking time for yourself, something you realised you and him both kind of needed.

You listened until the song had ended, looking at him with a big smile on your face, a smile that made Jisung want to cover your face in fear that it would make his heart burst with how giddy he felt.

“I love this,” you told him, “can you send it to me?”

Jisung scoffed, “no way, how do I know you’re not gonna sell it before I can get it copyrighted?” he huffed, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table to support his head on his palm.

“I’m really impressed, how’d you get the inspiration to do this?”

Jisung shrugged, “my own life I guess, and the people that helped me get through that weird period of creative block that I was in,” he murmured.

You nodded, “well, whoever they are, you should thank them for me.”

Jisung nodded, facing the television as he contemplated in his heart whether to do what he wanted to do, turning to you with a small smile on his face, he nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened, not knowing what to make of his words. The song had started to repeat.

Jisung had shook his head, “I’m not just saying this because I like you or whatever—” he stopped himself with a small curse, “shit, that was not how I planned on telling you. Whatever, as I was saying…” he trailed off, his gaze landing on your tattoo, the neck of your shirt having started to slip off your shoulder slightly.

“Honestly, I really hated that drawing,” he told you, your gaze following his to look at your tattoo, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

“This? Why? But it’s so pretty,” you insisted.

Jisung shook his head.

“It was my first design, and I wasn’t…you know, I just didn’t think it was that impressive, and all. Chan had told me to keep it in my portfolio but I was really close to just removing it.”

His gaze shifted to anywhere except your face, distracting himself by looking at the various things in the house, his gaze landing on the rainbow-coloured umbrella at the door.

Jisung sighed, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the sofa now, his body angled towards you, making you unconsciously shift your body to face him as well, your breath hitching in anticipation for what he was about to say next.

“But then, you said you wanted it tattooed, and I honestly didn’t want you to get it but I had no choice, you know, blah blah customer’s preference first and all that bullshit,” he waved his hand for emphasis, “but then after I saw you with the tattoo more, I guess my perspective started to change? I mean, like, you kept insisting that it was so beautiful and all that..you know, seeing you with it kind of started to grow on me.”

Jisung paused, his gaze on a corner of the coffee table as he tried to find the right words to express how he was feeling, shrugging at you and just deciding to say whatever was at the top of his head and work from there.

“I guess it kind of made me love my work more, and like, trust myself, you know… because I realised how beautiful it could be.”

You looked at him wordlessly, your heart picking up speed at the tension in the room, something in you urging you to stand up, making you get up on your feet with no aim in mind.

So as not to look like a complete fool, your hands flew up to hug your arms, “oh, it’s a little um, chilly. Be right back,” you sprinted to your room, reaching in your cupboard for your hoodie and putting it on without a second thought, too preoccupied to notice how it stopped at your thighs and how the sleeves bunched up more.

Returning to the coffee table, you’d almost regretted your decision to put on the hoodie, feeling utterly warm from how flustered you were, especially with the way Jisung was looking at you with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze as you tilted your head down, not expecting Jisung to tilt his head down as well so he could search for your gaze, making you scrunch your eyes shut, wrinkling your nose as you let out a huff of laughter.

“You can reject me, you know. I remember you said you already liked someone,” he told you, and Jisung meant it, not wanting anything but to make sure you were okay, and happy.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to,” you murmured, finally daring yourself to meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the way Jisung had smiled.

“I can’t say I’m not happy to hear that,” he told you.

Jisung had brought his hand up, lazily removing his glasses and looking at you finally, since now the other things in the house weren’t as clear in his vision, all that was important being that you were right in front of him, and he could see you clearer than anything.

“Why’d you take your glasses off?” You murmured, seeing him shrug, giving you a lazy smile.

“What? You scared I didn’t wanna see your face?” He teased, the flush on your cheeks making him give in almost immediately, “I’m kidding. I just didn’t feel like being distracted anymore.”

Maybe it was the atmosphere of the living room, or the lingering feelings the song had left in you, maybe it was even the way you felt like you were finally getting what you were waiting for.

Whatever it was, there was an overwhelming feeling of giddiness in you, especially with the way Jisung’s gaze had flickered between your lips and your gaze, and yet he’d made no move to lean closer to you, as if he was expecting you to move first.

Leaning closer, you’d let yourself glance down, getting distracted by the stain of black ink on the sleeve of your hoodie, only realising then that it wasn’t your hoodie.

“Shit, sorry I’m wearing yours by mistake again, it must’ve gotten mixed up,” you murmured, knowing it wasn’t your week to do laundry duty.

Jisung stopped you before you could stand up, pulling your hand forward so the only thing stopping you from losing your balance was his grip on your arm.

“I never thought I’d be saying this but, you can wear it.”

You’d sworn if your heart were any weaker, you wouldn’t have been able to last this long, Jisung seeming almost teasing with the way he’d inched closer at a painfully slow pace, so his lips were barely touching yours.

Just before he could pull back, you’d groaned in frustration, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of his jaw, meeting your lips with his.

And there it was again, the feeling of relief that washed over, knowing that this was very much happening, and that you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Jisung pulled away first, his pupils blown and his eyes giving away his surprise, huffing at you and folding his arms, increasing the distance between you.

“I’m only realising this now, what do you mean I’m oblivious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll explain it again later, I swear.”

Jisung huffed, more dramatic this time, making sure you sensed his sulkiness (as feigned as it was), looking at you with a pout on his lips, “give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you.”

He puckered his lips, making you roll your eyes, though you didn’t hesitate to cup his face again, pressing your lips against his as your thumb brushed over his cheek gently, pulling away before he would’ve wanted. You couldn’t help yourself from laughing at the way he’d leaned forward, chasing your lips, frowning at you with a soft sigh when you’d straightened up.

“Can we eat now? The meat’s getting overcooked.”

===

lucas 11:30pm - dude I told u it would work if you smiled at him more cant believe u didnt believe me smh -

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

🌹 - ɟ

Hiii babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 You know how it works by now. These are the answers to the asks Mari/Stuck sent me. And happy Valentine’s Day to you all!! 🌹🌹 Enjoy 🙃

 A lot of people have been interested in them, dear Anon. From managers, to publicists, to sponsors, partnerships, producers, etc., etc. and no, it was never a problem between them. That’s part of their job.

 No, dear Anon. Camila and Ashlee are best friends. Ash ships/ped Camren. She has helped them a lot of times. I know why you thought this. Just as I know it may seem that Ash takes advantage of Camila because she created a lot of videos with her, made two songs about her, and brings her up at every opportunity, but it’s not what it seems. Do you have any idea how hard it is to try to emerge as an artist in that world? Do you have any idea how many artists there are out there that you’ll never hear about because they’ll never make it to the top? Why do you know Ashlee? Thanks to 5H. Without having been their guitarist, you wouldn’t even know she existed. The fans that Juno has, are Harmonizers/Camilizers and some that she managed to make herself afterwards.

Ash is a real friend to our Mila. She has helped her more times than we could ever know, even by leaving the tour to help her friend. And Camila’s the same for her. Did you know that on June 13, 2020, in the face of the Black Lives Matter Movement she helped Ashlee sponsor a free scholarship for 20 black students to participate in the JUNO’s Guitar Bootcamp to help them create more opportunities in that field in their future? [Diana Foster, who I believe is her girlfriend or a great friend of hers anyway, also helped] Why on earth would Camila willingly help someone who ‘presumably’ would be taking advantage of her friendship? May I suggest you go watch one of the last videos they have together in Camila’s backstage? It dates back to 2019. Go watch it, dear Anon, and tell me if you don’t get an automatic smile on your lips.

 Forgive me, Anon, with all due respect speaking, but what are you saying? “Camila has made mistakes (she has not been the best girlfriend possible)?” Are you for real? What are you talking about? Camila made her mistakes, but so did Lauren. So why are you only pointing the finger at Camila? Did you pay attention to their story? Did you hear/see what Lauren said on the podcast? Have you ever listened to their songs WELL? Because apparently, you didn’t. A couple is made up of two people and mistakes are made by two, not just by one.

 No, dear Anon. Closer was never a song of hers in the first place, let alone one she could sell. The Chainsmokers wanted her in the song. She recorded a rough demo for them and then turned it down. I know that when she turned it down and they passed it on to Halsey, she wrote and contributed to some of the lyrics (she appears as a songwriter in the credits), so I believe she wrote those in the place of the ones Mila wrote in her version, but I’m not sure. I don’t know if Camila had the time to write her part like Ashley (Halsey) did, or if she directly recorded the demo as she did with The Middle. Until it’s leaked, we won’t have an answer.

The fact is that Closer was simply a project that was proposed to her when she was still in 5H and that she turned down because 7/27 was about to come out. Just as she declined to participate in Taylor Swift’s Bad Blood music video for them (5H). And I still wonder how the haters still consider her a bitch 🙄🙄

 Ligas, or hair bands, or también se dice colitas, verdad? Or hair ties as I like to call them, were originally Lauren’s. Lauren had two on her wrist at X-Factor and then, magically, one ended up on Camila’s wrist. I personally think that was their first symbol, but of friendship. And no, dear Anon, they didn’t replace the rings. The rings didn’t yet exist at that time. If the rings were one of their symbols of love, the hair ties were symbols of friendship, at least in the beginning.

P.S. dear Anon, I would like that as soon as you finish reading this post, you’d type ‘garters’ on Google and click directly on images 🤣 I really, REALLY, love you for this, believe me 😉❤️

 I watched all the interviews held in Spain in 2015 and you can see the differences, dear Anon. The two interviews with Revista Bravo and the one with Vodafone Yu are more or less normal. There’s tension between all of them because the big mess had recently happened. But in Alyson’s one with NSP PROJECTS and the one with LOS40 in which Alyson is in as well… Gosh… Your second question is my answer, dear Anon. Yes, they broke up, but that was even before they went to Europe.

As for your last question, on the one hand, I think she was single, attracted to the interviewer, and that she didn’t have to be accountable to anyone because being single, she could do whatever she wanted. But on the other hand, I think it may have been done on purpose for revenge since they’ve always played these jealousy games. I don’t think she managed to control herself though. It shows in both of those interviews, although it’s much more evident in the one with NSP PROJECTS. I don’t think she really realized the gravity of what she was doing because she was too wrapped up in Alyson and too busy in impressed her than everything else. I don’t think she noticed, at least not during the interviews, how hurt Lauren was.

I don’t want to tell you yes or no if her behavior was correct or not, simply because I don’t know if she did it because as I said she was single and didn’t have to answer to anyone, or if she did it out of revenge because she wanted Laur to be jealous. My instinctive response would be that it wasn’t corrected because of the effect it had on Laur who was also going through the dark diary period, but I don’t really know why Mila did what she did. She may have had her reasons, and maybe knowing them, my answer would be different, or the same. I don’t know because I don’t know the reasons behind this. Lauren has done a lot of things in the past that have hurt Camila, and Camila has done a lot of things in the past that have hurt Lauren. They’ve hurt each other many times. Sometimes on purpose and sometimes not. So I prefer to abstain because, at least in this case, I don’t feel like judging something I don’t know. Much less point the finger.

 Hi @ camilalauren0327 😄👋🏼 yeah, writing is therapeutic for them, as it is for many other people, myself included. Dancing was for me as well. Many people find it therapeutic to play sports, others find it in various forms of art, etc., etc.

I don’t know if Camren did couples therapy 🤷🏻‍♀‍ I think if they really did it, they did it after 5H.

Doctors of all kinds, and therefore also psychologists, consultants, therapists, psychiatrists, etc. are bound by the federal law HIPAA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act). Many therapists themselves indeed, prefer to establish confidentiality limits even before starting therapy. For example, the fact that they’re required to maintain therapy content is established regardless, but with you, they can determine who they can contact with your written permission, or if they can’t contact anyone. If YOU client prefer it, you can also establish that outside those four walls, you’re not really in therapy and that therefore if you meet your therapist in a supermarket, for example, they’ll pretend not to know you and will not acknowledge you at all in order to protect your client-therapist confidentiality. So, at the end of the day, it really depends on you and what you establish with your therapist.

This, however, is sometimes not enough for celebrities. Those who really, but really care about privacy and don’t want to take risks, require their therapist to also sign an NDA as a backup and reinforcement plan, so that it covers everything, including sections that HIPAA doesn’t administer.

Both, dear @camilalauren0327, and hi again 👋🏼😊 In the Consequences video and on the day of Say You Won’t Let Go she was paying tribute to Lauren and to the old Camila. For Consequences, that was one of the many symbols we find in the video that served as a clue. For Say You Won’t Let Go it was yes a tribute to Lauren and to old Camila, but it was more of a message for her. The song was for her, the bow was for her, and the rose on her pants was for her. It was like: “Hey, I’m still here. I’m still me. See the bow? See the rose? The song? It’s all for you. The title of the song already speaks for itself. Let’s try again”. That was indeed still the period of rapprochement between them. As for the other times she wore it, and I remember that she even wore it around her neck on more than one occasion, it was for style.

 Sure thing, dear Anon 🙃 Curious is a song discarded from the album Camila, and I don’t know if you’ll like my interpretation, dear Anon, because this song is not about Lauren (for me).

Verse 1

“I lose myself when you start talkin’

There’s something riveting about you, it’s got me confused”

Camila finds this girl so fascinating, that not only does she gets lost when she talks, but it also makes her confused. Confused because she didn’t think another girl could have this effect on her while her mind was always on Lauren. And yes, girl. It’s not the first time that Camila has had to mask this in her songs.

“If we went back to your apartment

Would you be a gentleman and a bad boy too?”

She’s provocative here. She’s literally provoking and teasing the girl: “Could you be sweet and at the same time rough enough to slamming me against the wall?” If you know what I mean…

Pre-Chorus

“I know you think, I’m innocent

Little do you know where my mind has been?”

When you see Camila in videos and interviews, you’re hit by her energy 80% of the time. She’s this cute and goofy and clumsy and dorky ball of bubbly energy that cracks a smile from you all the time. She’s funny with her lame jokes that however always make you laugh, and most of the time, you see her in this innocent light. And it’s true. She looks like this innocent little bean that must be protected at all costs. But we also know that she’s far from innocent. And here, that’s what she’s telling the girl: “If you knew what I’ve been thinking about you, about us, about what I want to happen, you’d understand that I’m not that innocent after all.”

“I don’t have much experience

Could you relieve me of my ignorance?”

The only sexual experience Camila had had up to that point, had been with Lauren. So unlike this girl, Camila had only had one partner, and she’s telling her just that: “I don’t have much experience as you do. Could you help me out?”

“It’s true (It’s true, it’s true)

Been wondering about you”

Here she’s basically questioning whether the expectation equals the reality.

Chorus

“I’m just cu—, I’m just curious

What you do, just got the two of us

Hit me down, take me up

Can you teach me how to love?

I’m just curious”

She’s telling her that what they do in private between them, will stay between the two of them. And then… Ahem-Ahem! *Throat clearing* I’m really trying to hold back as much as possible here guys… If I hadn’t received complaints in the past about some of the answers I gave in other posts, I wouldn’t have had any kind of problem explaining exactly what she says sentence by sentence, but I’ll just limit myself by saying that she’s asking her to teach her to be more expert on the subject matter.

Post-Chorus

“Dum, dum-dum-dum

You got me feeling

Dum, dum-dum-dum

You got me feeling”

This girl makes her feel in a certain type of way that Camila herself refrains from saying what she really wants to say. Still if you know what I mean…

Verse 2

“I’m kinda nervous but I like it (Yeah)”

Because it’s a good kind of nervous. An exciting kind of nervous.

“Will you live up to the image that I got of you?”

Again. As I said before, she’s basically asking if the expectation equals the reality.

“You’re not usually my type, yeah

I think that that might be the reason that I’m here with you (Oh, oh)”

And this, speaks for itself. Who’s Camila’s type? With whom is she making the comparison? Who does she have in mind to justify her actions? She’s there with this girl because her type is who?

Before I wrap up, I want to explain to you why this song has nothing of Lauren for me. So I’m going to rewrite some pieces of the song to debunk it’s about Lauren.

“If we went back to your apartment”

Lauren didn’t have an apartment yet. She wasn’t living alone yet. 5H had two apartments that they shared together in the months of recording, and for the rest, they lived constantly in hotels. This girl (older than her) had an apartment.

“I know you think, I’m innocent”

Lauren and Camila had already had sex. Hello? Since the Like Friends Do situation. So she’s not talking about Lauren because she already knew Camila wasn’t innocent.

“I don’t have much experience”

Again. Experience she’d precisely had with Laur.

“Been wondering about you”

She had to wonder about Lauren if she had already been with her sexually? What would have been the sense?

“What you do, just got the two of us”

If she was really talking about Lauren, this would’ve been a big bullshit because there were people who knew about them. The ones closest to them for sure. Like DNA. DNA knew about them right from the start and lived their story basically along with them. Not to mention that they heard them on more than one occasion. Hell, even we heard them thanks to that takeover.

“You’re not usually my type”

Definitely not Lauren! Isn’t Lauren Camila’s type? In which universe?

“I think that that might be the reason that I’m here with you”

Exactly! This girl, whether it was physically or of character, wasn’t like Lauren.

Aaand these are the reasons why I’m 100% sure this song is not about Lauren, dear Anon.

 Of course I can, dear Anon 😄

Cleopatra is a song discarded from the album Camila, and created during The Hurting. The Healing. The Loving. era. C ended Something’s Gotta Give in mid-March 2017 and we know it was the last song of The Hurting. The Healing. The Loving. era before the album name changed to Camila, so Cleopatra was finished before that.

Verse

“Ridin’ ‘round town in the backseat

Looking like the real deal

Looking real, real, real

Spent so long cuttin’ my teeth

Thought you were the real deal

But it wasn’t real, real, real, uh”

Camila is in the back of a car and, you know how sometimes you find yourself spacing out and thinking about something in those moments? Maybe by looking out the window but not really looking because you’re thinking about that something? It can be something trivial or something important, and in Camila’s case, in this case specifically, she’s overthinking about her relationship with Lauren. They had clearly broken up, and Camila is thinking about how she believed L was the real deal.

With ‘cuttin’ my teeth’ she used a slang to indicate that she learned something early in her life. The slang of cut my/your/her/his/their teeth was born in reference to the exit of the teeth from a baby’s gums and consequently indicates a first experience. So, here she means that she spent too much time learning the ropes believing for real that Lauren was for her, and then realize that she wasn’t.

[Don’t be discouraged and keep in mind that in this case, they were passing thoughts because she was definitely angry, bitter, and sad. We all are after a fight or a breakup with a partner. Besides, we all know that L is the love of her life. Think of songs like Never Be the Same (It’s you, babe), All These Years ('Cause after all these years, I still feel everything when you are near), Taxy (The greatest love story that’s never been told), and many others up to one of the ‘most recent’ ones: Anyone (You are the only one I’ll ever love) 😉]

Pre-Chorus

“Every night it was a different fight

It was a different girl

It was a different lie, ooh-ooh

Every night it was a different fight

It was a different girl

It was a different lie, ooh”

Aaaand back at it again with their communication problems. Even if she has generalized a lot here, she still makes us understand the essence of the problem.

Chorus

“I think I kinda wanna cut my hair like I’m

I’m Cleopatra”

When people move on or try to move on after a breakup, what do they usually do? They look for a change. They want to separate themselves from their past selves, of the ones they were when they were in a relationship with the person they broke up with, and they seek a change, aka self-improvement. Most of the time visual, and therefore physical. This change is seen as a new beginning, a new chapter in their life where they want to feel good again. They want to feel attractive. And this is how self-innovation begins. Some go on a diet, others change their style and wardrobe, and then there’s what many see as a rite of passage: a new haircut.

Camila in this case used Cleopatra’s cut as a metaphor for the change she wanted to make about herself. Cleopatra is one of the most famous known queens in the world. Strong, intelligent, powerful, and that radiates charm in everyone since ever. But Camila isn’t talking about Cleopatra the person. She’s talking about her haircut. Cleopatra’s cut in this case is a symbol of power and freedom for Camila. Remember how I said earlier that Camila finished Something’s Gotta Give in mid-March and that she finished this song before that? Well, although this song talks about 2015, it was made in 2017. And guess what happened in that same period? Camila cut her hair by getting bangs. To be precise, it happened on March 31, 2017 (picture + caption: “joined the bang club now”). Coincidence? Yeah, sure, I don’t think so. Plus, although she used it as a metaphor, Camila has actually always wanted a Cleopatra cut, thing that, if you think about it, she now has for real. [Oh, oh and, rumor has it that Cleopatra was bisexual as was 100% Julius Caesar🤫🤭]

“Wanna dance on cars

And forget it all after

Skip these sad love songs cause I

Need something faster and now baby

Kinda think I’m ready”

The freedom I was saying before? (Cleopatra’s cut in this case is a symbol of power and freedom for Camila) She talks about it here. She used the wanting to dance on cars and the skipping sad love songs as figurative expressions of the freedom she wanted to feel, and that she wanted to feel fast because there was gonna be no crying in the club this time. 🤣🤣🤣 Sorry, dear Anon, I had to 😝 No but, seriously though. She just wanted to shed the past and move on right away because she was ready. And she was also ready for the power part I referred to earlier that she explains here:

Post-Chorus

“Needed to be all eyes on me

Baby all eyes on me, ooh

That’s what I want

Needed to be all eyes on me

Baby all eyes on me, ooh

That’s what I want, yeah”

Now. Now, now, now, now, now, now, now. We have a double interpretation here. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: Camila is a fucking genius. And being the fucking genius lyricist that she is, she used a double meaning here to let everyone interpret this part as they please. The double interpretation is so well hidden, that people who listen to this song without knowing the details, such as for example knowing something about Camila’s life or the year the song was made, would never know because they wouldn’t even notice.

The first interpretation ties into what she says about wanting to dance on cars in the chorus. That’s also a way of saying she just wants to dance thoughtlessly and have fun, but on cars? It’s a metaphor to say that she wants to do it by drawing everyone’s attention. I want you to picture something now, okay? Picture a party with a bunch of people dancing and drinking, and in the midst of the fun, someone climbs on the hood of a car or a counter or any other high surface to keep dancing. Can you picture what would happen at that moment? Can you picture how all the people there would turn to look at that person and shout, clap, and cheer them on? Now picture the same scenario with a person still climbing on something high, but to announce something. It’s the same thing. It’s the same purpose. Getting on top, getting on top of something, is to automatically draw attention. So the connection that leads us to the first interpretation is: Wanna dance on cars - Needed to be all eyes on me.

The second interpretation, on the other hand, is basically the same as regards wanting attention on her, but with another direction and another chorus sentence. Camila is a singer. She’s a performer. She LOVES to perform. She LOVES the excitement, the adrenaline rush, the anxiety, the nerves, the pressure, and the feeling of shitting herself before entering a stage. She LOVES the almost blinding stage lights, the screams, the cheers, the applause, and all the love from the fans. She LOVES mastering the stage, interacting with the audience, and delivering a show. She sings her heart out and LOVES it when the audience sings back to her. She has so much passion and she’s so fucking good at what she does. Why am I saying all this? Because with this hidden interpretation, Mila refers to her solo debut. Like I said, this song was made in 2017, remember? So the connection that leads us to the second interpretation is: Now baby, kinda think I’m ready - Needed to be all eyes on me. Ready for her debut.

Both indicate the attention and power (feeling of power) that I mentioned earlier that comes with it.

Bridge

“See, see

You right to be that

You bein’, you needin’

See, see

You right to be that

You bein’, you needin'”

This part is cryptic. Since they broke up here, I think she’s just saying that it’s okay. That it’s okay for Lauren to be the way she is and that it’s okay if they’re letting each other go (Yeah, sure, Jan 🤣). No hard feelings. Or at least, that’s my interpretation.

—

Before concluding this post, I’d like to make amends. My friend, the same one I ‘roasted’ in my last post (📄 - ɟ), hey, hi girl 😝 literally shoved her phone in my face a few days ago to show me an ask sent to @emisonme (hi to you too if you’re reading 👋🏼😄) in which I was mentioned. I’d like to apologize to all of you because I made a mistake, although not intentionally. I didn’t know Simon was no longer one of the directors of Simco Limited. I went to check it out and immediately understood why I didn’t know. Because it happened more or less recently (on September 17, 2020) and I hadn’t done a thorough research on the piece of shit since last summer (July) when Syco integrated into Sony.

I got really mad at myself for doing one of the things I hate: giving out wrong information. Camila and Lauren are ‘free’ from Simon, and I put that in quotes because one of the clauses that are in every Simmenthal Cow contract includes not being able to speak ill of him. I’m not kidding. This is a piece of an article from many years ago that is still on the internet today that talks about X Factor contracts: “The contract, which runs for 80 pages, also reportedly states that the rules are enforceable anywhere ‘in the world and solar system’ and that artists may not be critical of the company, ‘including its personnel and, in particular, Simon Cowell’. The contract makes clear no-one can speak badly of X Factor supremo Simon.”

Supremo… Supremo? Like what, the Supreme from American Horror Story (some fans of the series like me here)? Should I start calling him Cordelia? No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I could never. I’m sorry Sarah (Paulson) for even giving it the slightest thought, love. I’m deeply ashamed. Sooo, like what? A supremo Super Saiyan (Dragon Ball)? If he clenches his hands into fists and screams, does his hair turn blonde? No, huh? So like what exactly? The supremo asshole? You know what? It doesn’t matter. He’s ridiculous enough per se.

Anyway.  Camren are free I hope completely from Simon, but we don’t know yet if the contract ended along with Simon’s exit or if it’s still standing. We’ll see as soon as one of them releases a new song.

Please accept my sincere apologies, guys 🙏🏼 And thank you @emisonme for giving me a great news, albeit indirectly. You’re a real one 😊

🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

Aaand I’m done 🙈 I hope I was helpful in this case too. As usual, I’m always available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 🙃 And as always, I thank Mari for giving me space in her blog and for making this exchange possible, and thanks to you Anons for your asks 🥰

Be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

P.S. who wants to be my virtual Valentine? 🌹 🌹 🌹

____

I have to say sorry to F again because this submission should be posted last night and I couldn’t. Thanks for the long ass post F. 

Another advice, I closed the inbox for anons as you know and I will open it again in a few days when I don’t be too busy. Save your asks for F anyway, anons!

[sonecaratt]

Ah! Love // y.jh scenario

Ah! Love  // How I met the irressistible young bartender //

pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader  genre: 20s, 30s, romance, oneshot(?), barman!y.jh, romantic friendship. word count: 1241

There was that old bar at the end of the road, the bar that was already well know in the neighborhood because of the loud music that were always played during the nights. I never was an outgoing person, always focused on my study schedule, but this time I allowed myself to accept my aunt's invitation to celebrate her recent engagement.

She said she was going to find me a man that I could marry, i don't think getting married early is correct, but it is very common around here.

I don't think she could do that or find someone at all. All the men here are just ignorant, sexist and arrogant. None of them would care about the feelings of a girl like me.

That's what I thought.

Finally i had found a reason to wear the red light fabric dress I had won on my birthday. Its size reached just below my knees, the sleeve was short and there was a cleavage dangerous enough who show a great part of my collarbone. 

The walk was not long, soon we  — me, my aunt e her friends arrived at the relatively large and recently renovated bar. From a distance you could hear some pleasant jazzy songs playing while many older men were drinking, smoking and laughing out loud. Outside the bar wasn’t much different, many people stayed around as if they were waiting for something or someone that could get their attention.

I was busy enough with thoughts about the book I had read earlier, The Man in The Brown Suit, to pay attention to the people around me. It left me thinking about the pile of writings that I had left on my writing desk, dreaming that one day I would publish them and that they would be successful. 

I would like to write the perfect story. And it occupied my mind most of the time. But not enough that I didn't notice the beautiful display of expensive drinks that were placed on the luxurious counter on my left, at the back of the bar.

Not enough to make me didn't notice the reddish hair that soon rose from the bottom of the counter, thus allowing me to see their owner. A pair of eyes met mine, the first thing I felt is that I could remain in this same position for a long time. 

Certainly a few good seconds had passed.

The brown suit. The eyes. That red hair. His smirk.

Bingo!

— Do you want to drink something? — he asked me while taking something from the counter

— I don’t drink. I can't pay for that either.

At that moment he smiled. An innocent, distracted smile, as if he were laughing at the way I said the phrase. He was certainly not that old compared to the men around him. His face was youthful, it could easily be someone my age. He was well dressed, he didn't look like a bartender. Who was he anyway?

— You don't have to pay, it's courtesy of the house.

As soon as he said that, he turned his attention to the other customers who were there. At this hour, my aunt would probably be toasting while enjoying the music that gave grace to the whole atmosphere of that end-of-street bar. Indeed, you could hear my aunt talking loudly from a distance. I should be close as I always knew that his drinking habits were never the best, but I had more important questions now. No, it was not the drink courtesy.

— Are this lady accompanied? — He asked inattentively

— Not really. My aunt is celebrating her engagement with her friends over there. — He did not answer, as he served some more customers beside me. With that, I could see his side profile. He was not from here. — Are you new here? You don’t look familiar.

He smiled as he looked back at me. A smile that was like an arrow. An arrow from a cupid, innocent and warm. Despite being young, he seemed mature enough to handle that bunch of drunken old men in old black suits who keep shouting bets and bumping into each other while ordering more and more drinks. And it wasn't long before, in the meantime, one of them hit me. My physique is not strong, which caused me to become a little unstable. If I hadn't held on to the counter I would have easily fallen to the floor. The boy in front of me looked annoyed, but he couldn't do anything anyway, we were separated by a large piece of refined wood.

— These men are brutes! — I exclaimed furiously, getting a laugh from the other.

— I'm new here. I came to help my older brother with the bar's investments, i'm trying to be a young businessman.

— Serving drinks? — He laughed at my comment. 

The minutes passed very quickly since we had started some kind of conversation. I hadn't drunk anything, but I lost count of how many times the young guy in front of me had served others who came and went from the bar. And when the bar was getting empty, we danced. 

While my aunt gossiped already outside, in front of the bar with her friends, we danced to the last song that would be played that night. We danced to a calm jazzy song, really close to each other. I could feel his woody scent joining mine as we were so close.

And my nights started to be like this.

Whenever I could, I went to the bar down the street to talk to the young bartender. I had told him about my dream of writing fictional stories and he said they could help me with anything, so I always had an excuse to be able to see the handsome man with red hair almost burgundy. And every time, before I could leave, we joke around while talking about a lot of things. He once asked me if any of those men who attended there had caught my attention. The truth was I kept thinking about the way his arms hugged my waist when we danced, or the way his voice and his scent calmed me down as the night grew denser.

I've heard a lot of stories about fate, and i didn't used to believe them. Until the day his lips touched mine. At that moment, I would like to write an entire book talking about how it made me feel in the clouds. He was like an angel, sent only for me.

His lips felt like the sweetest, softest cotton candies I could ever have experienced in my life. 

I would like to immortalize all the feelings I was feeling for the boy I had met in front of an old bar counter and somewhere, sometime later, someone could identify with what I was feeling at the time. It was love, pure love. Love at its form. Jeonghan’s love.

— Should i call you my wife from now on?  — He asked as I felt his hot breath on my bare neck.

And the music came to an end, while he made a loving kiss trail till my lips.

Ah! Love If I show you something Will you worry about me every morning Firework launched in the middle of the sea A bursting heart is like my heart one day, anywhere

hi, it's been a while since I published anything related to reactions, imagines, scenarios or whatever. I just found an inspiration and, taking the opportunity to practice my english, I wrote this ... thing. maybe I'll do part 2. I don't know. that's it.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Day 23

Prompt: At a certain age you switch bodies with your soulmate for 24 hours.

Word Count: 2,076

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01,​​​ @spoopy-turtle,​​​ @lizluvscupcakes,​​ @more-fandon-than-friends​, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, sirprplsnail

Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

CW: Food, implied abusive household, one (1) curse word.

Virgil rolled over, hand smacking to turn off an alarm he didn’t remember setting. Eyes opening, he found the world to be fuzzy and out of focus. He noticed the sheets surrounding him were softer than anything he’d ever felt before. Glancing at the side table, he noticed a white notecard sitting atop a black cylinder. Reaching forward, he picked up both items. The cylinder fell open and a pair of glasses tumbled to the sheets. Virgil picked them up and put them on, groaning in relief at being able to see, the eye strain he hadn’t even noticed disappearing.

Looking down at the notecard, he found neat handwriting on it. ‘Greetings! My name is Logan Croft. I am 20 years old. If you are reading this, that means you are my soulmate and have turned 18. You are free to eat anything that is in the kitchen however I must ask that you refrain from eating peanuts of any kind throughout the day as I am severely allergic. My schedule for the day is on the kitchen table. Happy birthday.’ Great, he thought. I thought I had another year until this.

Virgil rolled out of bed, moving to the mirror propped in the corner to look at the face he’d be wearing for the next twenty-four hours. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep and his night clothes hung from the tall and lanky frame. Lifting the shirt, he was surprised to find a muscular abdomen. He turned, sorting through the closet for something he could stand to wear for the day. It was filled with business casual to formal which made Virgil think he was a business major of some sort.

Thinking that he’d decide after breakfast, he walked to the kitchen and found the schedule. Picking it up, he found a loaf of bread and made some toast as he read over it. Glancing at the kitchen clock, he saw that the first class was in twenty minutes. He grabbed the toast and ran back to the bedroom, not wanting to be late for class. The class list seemed more in line with a marine biology major than a business one but he still put on a polo and jeans. He would have attempted the tie but he’d never been taught how. Then, with toast in his mouth and the schedule in hand, he quickly pulled up a navigation app and was out the front door.

~~~~~~

Logan woke to a loud and annoying song blaring near his ear. He sat straight up in bed, taking a second to notice that his vision wasn’t blurry before he turned to riffle under the pillow. He felt a rectangle and pulled it out, finding a phone that was quite a few years past its usefulness. He swiped it open and turned off the alarm, the music cutting off.

He slid off the bed, feet hitting a cold floor, before looking around the room. He found a clean, if bare, room with papers strewn across a desk in the corner and a purple hoodie tossed over the back of the desk chair. He moved over to the desk, picking up a paper to find math equations scrawled over them, the name Virgil Stern written neatly at the top.

“Hello, soulmate.” He whispered quietly to himself, the voice raspy with sleep. He glanced up, seeing his reflection in the cracked mirror covering the closet door. There were dark circles much larger than he knew was healthy under his eyes.

Before he could get a better look, a voice cut through the silence. “Virgil, if you don’t get down here soon you’re gonna be late and I’m not waiting for you!” The shout from outside the door was combined with pounding.

Logan took that as his cue to dress. Picking up the hoodie, he made his way to the closet and threw on a tattered looking shirt and some ripped black jeans. Slinging the hoodie over his shoulders, he snatched up the bag next to the chair. He found a list on the desk that seemed to contain what was needed for the day. Seeing the class schedule on the back, he shoved it into the bag.

He heard footsteps outside the door and tore out of the room, running down the stairs. “I’m coming!” He called.

“It’s about time!” The woman standing at the door exclaimed. Logan ducked his head, passing her on his way out. He stood uncertainly on the walk, not knowing what to do. The woman waited for five other teens to pass her before she closed the door. Logan silently followed the others to a minivan, sliding in with the ones who looked closest to Virgil’s age.

~~~~~~

Virgil got through the first class just fine, taking as detailed notes as he could. He had no idea what was going on or what his soulmate might need so he wrote down everything that seemed important, which meant he was one step away from writing down the whole lecture. He was on his way to the next class, searching the sides of buildings for names, when he heard someone call Logan’s name.

Turning, he saw someone running toward him so he slowed down slightly. When the person caught up with him, they looked like they were about to time travel to the past. Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is it dress like a pirate day and no one told me?” He immediately wished he hadn’t spoken.

The stranger just put their hands on their hips and laughed. “Logan, how have I not told you about the most recent play I’m in?”

Virgil just chuckled. “Uh, you might have at one point. I’m not myself today.”

The stranger laughed with him. “You could say that again. So, did you and your soulmate swap?”

Virgil sighed. “I have no idea how to act like Logan.”

The person laughed, sticking out a hand. “I’m Roman, his best friend. I go by they/them pronouns.”

Virgil smiled, shaking their hand. “Virgil; he/him.”

Roman smiled. “Cool. Logan also goes by he/him. Come on,” they began walking and Virgil fell in step, “We have classes near each other so we usually walk together anyways.”

Virgil smiled. “So, what’s your play about?” Roman launched into a detailed explanation of it while Virgil was just glad to not have to think or do anything besides walk and listen for a few minutes.

The peace was over as they arrived at the next class and Virgil once again had no idea what was going on. He followed along and took notes just short of being the transcription for the lecture, trying to get down everything. Luckily, it didn’t look like Logan had any classes after this so he was free to meet up with Roman and simply follow them around as needed. He ended up spending the rest of the day sitting in the theatre while Roman ran lines and did the costume practice. He even got the chance to meet Roman’s soulmate, Patton.

~~~~~~

Logan was in his own personal hell. He had to deal with so many rowdy people in one car, high school again, and people who obviously didn’t care about his soulmate. For goodness sake, none of them had even mentioned that it should be Virgil’s eighteenth birthday. They should have known it was coming, they should have asked about it, done something. Instead, he got a lecture in the car ride about needing better sleep habits.

When he got to the school, he was almost instantly attacked from behind. Muscle memory moved the body before he even thought, throwing the person over his shoulder and flat onto their back in front of him. Logan took the few seconds while the person was getting up to wonder why that was the first instinct.

“Hiya, Verb!” The person said, dusting the front of their clothes off.

Logan straightened his backpack and frowned. “Am I supposed to know you?”

The person laughed. “Wow, looks like your soulmate is a year older than you, Virge. Or, I guess I should use your name, Virgil’s soulmate?”

Logan began walking into the building and Virgil’s friend followed. “My name is Logan. I’m assuming Virgil’s eighteenth birthday is today as I’ve been twenty for almost five months.”

The person snapped, reaching a hand out to shake Logan’s. “Well, my name is Remus but Verb normally calls me Stinky. What should I call you?”

“Logan will suffice. I’m assuming we have the same classes? I don’t know this school’s layout.”

Remus nodded. “Yep! Just stick with me and you’ll be fine, friendo!”

They went through the rest of the day at each other’s sides. Logan took as detailed notes as he deemed necessary, the important things from what he remembered. At lunch, he was informed that Virgil and everyone around him thought that he was turning seventeen today instead of eighteen. When he asked about that, he was told that Virgil had been in the foster system for a while and had to repeat a grade due to bad home life disrupting his grades.

The end of the day came and he went back to the front of the school with Remus, having to pack himself into the van with the other kids. He sent a quick, “Bye, Stinky!” for show before the door closed. He spent the rest of the ride in silence but his thoughts were racing. His mind was made up as they arrived at home, Logan instantly going up the stairs to do Virgil’s homework for him. On a scrap piece of paper, he wrote his phone number down before pausing.

Carefully, he began writing in his neatest handwriting. ‘I don’t know you yet, but I want to. I want to know what your laugh sounds like when I’m the one making you laugh. I want to know what you think about late at night. I want to know you. I want you to know me, to know whatever you want about me, to know my darkest secret and know I give it willingly. I want to know you and be known by you. I can’t wait to meet you, no matter how long it takes. I hope you had a good birthday and that Roman took you out for ice cream or something. I hope you know you are loved and appreciated.’

He went about making the bed and neatening up the room as much as he could. If he couldn’t be there to wish his soulmate a happy birthday, he could at least give him a nice present. That present might not be an expensive item, but it could be finished homework, a clean room, and a good night’s rest.

~~~~~~

The end of the time came and they swapped back at midnight. Both soulmates’ best friend filled them in on the events of the day and everything their soulmate did. After all, it was a few years before they met again.

When they did, it was by complete chance, as most soul meetings went. It was outside an aquarium. Logan was just getting off his shift and Virgil was going to the donut shop across the street from it. Logan saw him and paused. “Virgil?” He called.

Virgil turned, trying to find the voice that had been his own for a day and still populated his dreams and evenings, the nightly calls coming to mind. His name was called again and he saw the figure standing across the street. He waved and watched as Logan came across to him, a smile on his face. “Logan, hi.”

Logan couldn’t help but reach forward, hand brushing Virgil’s in a silent ask for permission to hold it. Virgil’s smile grew as he turned his hand to take Logan’s. “You know,” Virgil began, “I was just about to grab a donut if you wanted to join me?”

Logan smiled. “I’d love to, soulmate.” The word was said as both an endearment and a promise. A promise of a life spent together, of days starting and ending with each other, of a shelter and a place to relax without having to hide any part of himself. An endearment of love, of someone worth loving, and that was all that Virgil needed. If he hadn’t been in love with his soulmate already, he would have fallen in that moment for that one word that held so much.

[gretavanfleetposts]

i love reading your ships and was wondering if you could do one for me :)

i'm 5'7 with naturally dark blonde hair that i recently dyed a reddish color. my personality type is istp and i believe my enneagram is 5w6? i'm a criminal justice major, and i'm considering going to law school. my faith is really important to me. i love music so much... it's an integral part to my life. recently i've been listening to a lot of blues and classic rock. i love hiking and nature, and have recently gotten into foraging. i love to cook and bake. i also like to write poetry, although i personally don't think the things i write make sense from a logical perspective. i love both the 70's hippy aesthetic and the dark academia aesthetic. and i think that's about it lol

tysm in advance :))

Hello, my love!

❤: I'm so glad you love reading our ships! We love having you! I did go peruse your blog as I usually do when we get asks off anon, and I absolutely love it haha I also love getting peoples enneagram types, I find that very interesting. I also love the fact that you write poetry. I hardly ever meet people that are into poetry anymore! Anyway, you sound super cute and like you have fantastic style. Like, what's better than the 70's hippy aesthetic and the dark academia aesthetic? They are superior.

Ship: Josh

Because: Personally, I think if anyone can understand your poetry, it's probably Josh. And if anyone can inspire your poetry as well, it's probably also Josh. The man is a natural poet, as we know. And he would be so encouraging of your writing and would want to read all of it, no matter how confusing you might insist it is. I think you'd quickly bond over your music tastes and he would really admire your appreciation of the blues and classic rock. I think he'd feel like you especially understand his music and that would be comforting to him. And I also feel like he would love to go foraging with you. That sounds right up his alley.

Scenario:

There was nothing you loved more than watching your boyfriend perform and tonight you were excited because you were finally going to be able to make it to one of his shows

You were especially excited tonight because Josh had let slip to you that they'd be performing a new song tonight that even you hadn't heard them rehearse

You stood in the crowd pressed up against the barricade like the obsessed fan you were, waiting for the band to come out

The second Josh stepped foot on stage, the crowd erupted into shrill screams, your own in the mix

You could practically feel electricity buzzing in the air as they began their set

Josh really was an magnificent performer

You sang along to every song, eagerly awaiting one you didn't recognize

Finally, toward the end of the set, a song began that you hadn't heard Josh sing before and you knew this must be the new song

Confirming your suspicion, Josh found your eyes from the stage as he opened the song with a short introduction

"This is a song we recently wrote. It's inspired by someone I love very much. In fact, she helped me write it, although I don't think she knows it yet." And with that he sent you a tantalizing wink that brought heat to your cheeks and drew impossibly louder screaming from the fans surrounding you

He was right, you had no idea how or when you had helped him write the song

That is, until he started singing

You began to notice lyrics that sounded familiar to you even though you hadn't heard this song before

Then it dawned on you

Half of the lyrics were words you had written in your poetry book at home

Josh had gone through one of his favorite poems of yours and had carefully crafter lyrics around it, keeping the original intent of your own words as he wove in his own as responses

Your heart swelled in your chest as he finished the song and then the set and soon enough you found yourself throwing yourself into his arms backstage

"I hope you don't mind I used some of your writing," he said with a smile

You had no idea how you had found the one man who truly understood the musings of your mind but of course it was Josh

You loved the song. And you loved him even more

I hope you liked it! Thank you for the request!

-⭐

Ships are currently closed

[hailbop1701]

25 Days of FicMas

December 5th prompt: Stuck in a room with someone you hate on Christmas

Word Count: 3,077

Lockdown

I know this late! I'm so sorry but my laptop decided it wanted to start a stupidly long update that took the entire day! 🤦‍♀️ I don't really like what I wrote but here it is anyway! Not my best work but someday I'll make it up by writing a detailed chapter Enemies to lovers fic. I promise

-H❤🖖

It was holiday time on the Enterprise, everyone seemed to be in a mood to celebrate. Well almost everyone, the Enterprises infamous grouchy CMO was in anything but a cheerful mood. He scowled and barked at everyone, from ensign to the Captain, so most just kept out of his way. Nurse Chapel clucked her tongue disapprovingly, “I know that this is his least favorite time of year but honestly!” she said resisting the strong urge to stomp her foot in frustration. She watched as another young ensign tearfully left the medbay; the girl quickly rushed past the Captain as he entered the room. He watched as the ensign left with a look of shocked concern, “he in his office?” Jim asked almost casually. Chapel huffed, “Yes, that was his last appointment of the night. He has officially locked himself away in his office,” she said dryly. Kirk smiled his thousand-watt grin. “Good I need your help,” he said bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child. Christine Chapel looked at the man skeptically, “and why would I do such a thing Captain?” she asked as she cleaned up the nurse’s station. Kirk leaned in as if what he was about to tell her was top secret, “It’s about Bones...and a certain engineer,” he said in a sing-song voice. 

Christine perked up and smiled wickedly, “Oh please tell me we fix what’s between them!” she groaned slapping down a padd scaring a nearby orderly. Kirk smirked, “Oh I guarantee it will fix things! They say that they hate each other, but everyone - even Spock can see that it’s a bunch of bull,” he said keeping his voice low. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the CMO’s office door open, “I’ll send you the details later,” he whispered winking. “Jim stop harassing my nurses!” McCoy snapped stalking towards them deep scowl on his face. Holding up his hand in a placating gesture Jim grinned, “Just looking for you Bones!” he said giving his friend a smile. 

Over the next few days, Jim Kirk and Christine Chapel exchanged messages and met in quiet rec rooms and corridors to finalize their plan. On the day that they were to execute, “Operation:  Lockdown,”. Christine sat at the nurse’s station, keeping a casual eye on the CMO’s office waiting for McCoy to leave for his usual lunch break. When he left she quickly sent a message to Kirk telling him to “get a move on,”  she watched as Kirk quickly jogged through Medbay’s doors into Leonard’s office; Christine watched the clock anxiously. Kirk swiftly left the office and up to the desk grinning wickedly, “part two,” he whispered before leaving to the mess hall to catch a quick meal. Christine smiled to herself as she tapped away at the most recent crew physicals. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It had been a hellish day for you from the moment you woke up that morning, first you slept in making you twenty minutes late for your shift. Scotty wasn’t pleased but he let it slide due to the Holiday, and as a passive-aggressive punishment he gave you grunt work. A sudden shock brought you back to the present, cursing you shook your hand hoping to rid it of the tingling pain. A chirp from your belt made you want to cry in exasperation, flipping open your communicator you grimaced at the possible next project. “(Y/L/N) here,” you sighed pinching the bridge of your nose. “Lassie I need you to head to medical, McCoy’s replicator is on the fritz. The staff would love for you to make it hasty if ye can,” Scotty said sounding almost amused. Suppressing a groan you nodded to no one in particular, “Yeah Scotty I got it,” you muttered clearly unhappy with the prospect of going to Medbay; not that going to Medbay was a problem it was just the possibility of seeing the CMO. Putting away your tools, you close up the now functioning console. Waving goodbye to the people in security you nervously scurried to the Medical Bay. Clutching your toolkit in a white knuckle grasp your mind drifted remembering exactly how you came to be on bad terms with Doctor Leonard McCoy. 

It was after the Enterprise was rebuilt; being stationed on Yorktown already, you were offered a position on her crew. Montgomery Scott came to you with the Captain in tow to ask if you personally. Surprised at first you couldn’t help but beam and be excited at the opportunity. Sometime after accepting the position as Mr. Scotts second you were informed that you had to get a general physical done; sighing at the prospect of having to deal with Yorktown medical you kept a constant mantra in your head, “Enterprise, Enterprise, Enterprise,” as if you could click your heels and you’d be right at home. Squaring your shoulders you checked in at the front desk; the receptionist smiled trying to hide a sympathetic cringe, she indicated that you should go to the twelfth floor where the Enterprises primary physician would see you. Hesitantly you said your thanks put off by the woman's attitude and moved to the elevators with a new nervousness. 

A kind nurse (who turned out to be the one and only Christine Chapel) waited for you by the elevators. Looking up from her padd she had smiled at you warmly; most likely to put you at ease. “Lieutenant, lovely to see you,” she said, tone ringing like a bell; you smiled back before following her to an empty exam room. After weighing you and taking your height she gestured for you to hop up on the exam bed, smiling she looked up from her padd, “Alright, just wait here and Doctor McCoy will be in shortly,” and you were left alone to your thoughts. You had of course heard of the infamous Doctor of the Enterprise; the stories had to be exaggerated. At least you hoped they were. The sound of a door opening made you jump slightly; turning enough to see a dark-haired man wearing medical whites reading a padd. He was quite handsome if you were being honest with yourself. The only thing that threw you off was the deep scowl darkening his face. “Lieutenant (Y/L/N), I see that you had your yearly physical last month and that you’ve recently been here for...a broken arm,” he said in a rather nice southern drawl. You nodded, “Yes sir, broke it while fixing the wiring between...nevermind,” you laughed nervously at your babbling. McCoy raised a single eyebrow and managed to keep his scowl in place, “Engineer, huh?” he asked plucking a medical tricorder from it’s charging station across the room. You nodded sitting up straighter as he came back twiddling with the controls, he ran the scanner over your body and quickly took note of what it told him. “You idiot engineers are almost in my Medbay more than security,” he said gruffly. The statement made you bristle slightly a scowl now adorning your face, “We do what we need to, to keep things running.” you muttered sitting ramrod straight.  Doctor McCoy snorted, “ you’re all reckless and have the self-preservation instincts of a rock,” he said, not caring at all if you were insulted. Gritting your teeth you fully glared at the man now, “Yeah well Doctors can be pompous egotistical assholes but you don’t see me complaining,” you said cocking your head to the side as if you were daring him to retaliate. The Doctor glared sticking a hypo sharply into your neck. You refused to flinch or complain. Doctor McCoy tossed away what seemed to be a vaccination and dismissed you with a simple, “You’re clear,” 

You stopped before you hit the Medbay doors; blinking the memory away, you square your shoulders and headed in. You’ve been on the Enterprise for a year and you still argued with the CMO. You did your best to avoid him but something about him keeps bringing you back. The verbal sparring matches were fun and pretty legendary if you paid attention to crew gossip. He wasn’t bad to look at either, but for the life of you, you couldn’t stand the man. Literally. You couldn’t really stand in his presence, your knees would go weak and you constantly felt like you needed to throw up. Uhura and Christine laughed when you told them, they would declare that “You like him!” but you refused to admit anything of the sort. Walking into Medbay, you saw Christine puttering around checking off various things on her padd; upon seeing you, she glided over with a smile on her face. “Thank you so much for making this a priority!” she said giving you a gentle hug. Hugging her back you looked around noticing that Medbay was pretty much empty. “Where is everyone?” you asked walking with Christine to McCoy’s office, “The Holiday party,” she said giving you a look; as if you were supposed to know that. And she would be right, you winced at the reminder, “Kinda glad for my punishment now,” you muttered dryly. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that it was empty. “Doctor McCoy is a terror this time of year and a broken replicator means no coffee, which means my life is hell until it’s fixed,” Christine said grumpily with a roll of her eyes. You snickered at the prospect of seeing the Doctor suffer through caffeine withdrawals, “I’ll do my best,” you said after taking a quick look at the machine. Christine grinned, “I’ll leave you to it,” she gushed before rushing back out into the ward. You shook your head, ‘she’s acting weirder than she usually does,’ 

Prying open the maintenance hatch you waved a hand back and forth at the smoke that emitted from the wiring. “Great,” you muttered as you pulled a little flashlight from your kit. Turning it on you peered inside careful of the now exposed wires, “what in the freaking hell,” you said mystified. Putting the flashlight between your teeth so you could use both hands you started to painstakingly pick through the circuitry. At the end of your first hour, you had almost taken apart the replicator entirely, “I’m gonna need all new parts,” you mumbled around the end of the flashlight. “I swear I’m not going to help him when he comes crawling to me tomorrow with a hangover,” a distinct southern voice grumbled from outside the door; of course you didn’t hear him until he was already in the room cursing up a storm startled by your appearance. Yelping at the sudden noise you dropped the flashlight from your mouth and wrenched your arm free of the replicator’s insides. Yelping a second time you hold your now heavily bleeding arm, “damn it!” you cursed irritated. You heard McCoy rush towards you, he quickly placed a hand towel from the nearby sink and placed it over the deep laceration. “Keep pressure on it,” he whispered sounding almost apologetic. You replaced his hand with yours wincing only a little at the burning sensation running up your arm into your shoulder. You watched as Doctor McCoy moved quickly for the door but slammed into it because it didn’t open for him. “What the hell?” he whispered and continuously hit the door control only for it to keep denying him. He looked over at you and you shrugged, “don’t look at me,” you said butt hitting the floor feeling light-headed.

Leonard cursed again; giving up on the door he pulled open multiple desk drawers looking for his mission first aid kit. After he found it he rushed to your side again, “How are you feeling?” he asked even though he was running a tricorder over you. “Today has been shitty,” you grunted tossing your wire cutters back into your tool bag. Leonard hummed in agreement as he bandaged your arm and giving you a hypo to help staunch the bleeding even further and another for the pain. “Thanks,” you sighed holding your arm protectively to your chest, Doctor McCoy huffed and sat back so he was facing you. You both looked up when the lights flickered off and into emergency lighting. “Typical,” McCoy muttered pinching the bridge of his nose, “The room is in Lockdown,” you observed mildly. Leonard scowled at your detachment, “Do you have a communicator on you?” he asked holding back his insults and sarcasm. Rolling your eyes you pulled the device from it's hiding place on your belt, flipping it open you hoped to reach Scotty. Nothing. Gritting your teeth you tried Uhura. Nothing again. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly you tried one more time; to whoever was on comm tonight. Nothing for briefest of moments before the voice of Kevin Riley filtered through, “Kevin!” you gasped relieved, “hey I have a problem. I’m stuck in the CMO’s office can you send someone to help?” you asked sweetly. There was a pause over the line and the sound different voices whispering, “Yeah sure (Y/N) but it might take a while, we’re on a skeleton crew tonight. I’ll see what I can do!” Kevin said, his voice going pitchy at the end. 

“He just lied through his teeth,” McCoy hissed irritation showing on his face and you offered your comm so he could try. “Nothing I can do; Jim is already too far gone and is probably the one who did all of this. And he most likely has an order out preventing anyone from helping us.”  you pulled out your padd, hitting a few commands you pulled up to what looks to be a timer. You bit your lip, “yeah looks like we’re in timeout,” you said carefully leaning back so you were against the wall by the broken replicator. “Means he broke your caffeine provider,” you joked half-heartedly making the doctor shake his head ruefully. “Of all the stupid things…” he sighed. You observed him for a moment wanting to say something. Deciding against it you looked down at your scuffed up boots, “This has to be a great Christmas, stuck in a room with someone you hate,” 

McCoy’s head snapped in you up at your statement, his green eyes flickered between so many emotions you couldn’t keep track. He settled on regret and shame, “I don’t hate you,” he whispered looking down at his clasped hands. You were about to laugh but he continued cautiously as if he were choosing his words with great care. “Though you are a pain in my ass, I don’t hate you. On the day we met, I got some bad news and I took it out on you. I am sorry for that.” he said taking a breath he looked up into your eyes again. “I Found out that I can’t see my daughter unless my ex allows it,” he said hoping the explanation would ease your mind as to why he had been such an ass to you. Thinning your lips you felt sympathy wash through you, knowing that’s not what he’s after you slowly crawled to sit next to him, “I’m sorry that happened, I guess that first impression made it hard for us to get along,” you said thinking about all the times you riled the man up over the past year. There was a tense silence for the next few minutes as you both tried to figure out how to mend the bridges you had burned. “I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time creating more awkwardness. Chuckling you picked at the bandages on your arm, the blood had already seeped through creating a giant red splotch, McCoy batted your hand away and gently tightened them again. “How about we start over?” he suggested after he was done. A smile crossed your lips, “Nice to meet you, I’m Lieutenant (Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you said holding out your hand. 

McCoy smiled back taking your much smaller hand into his, “Leonard McCoy,” he whispered. “You know I’m going to need help dealing with the Captain after this, you in?” Leonard’s smile turned into a grin, “Darlin’ it would be my pleasure,” he drawled. The sudden pet name made your cheeks go red, Leonard didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He loved it when you blushed, whether it was from anger or embarrassment. He listened amused as you muttered about programming an alarm to play Klingon death metal loudly in Kirk’s quarters at three in the morning. You trailed off after trying to explain how you would do it, sheepishly you looked up through your lashes seeing Leonard looking down at you with complete wonderment. “What?” you laughed and he shook his head like he was trying to shake himself out of a daze, “nothin’ I-” he broke off the sentence and looked away embarrassed. The tops of his ears turned red; at that point, you only just noticed that neither of you let go of each other’s hands. He didn’t say anything so you didn’t either. Feeling the day hit you, you yawned tiredly and rested your head on McCoy's shoulder; “(Y/N)” the sound of Leonards’s voice made you hum, eyes closing. “After we thoroughly take care of Jim, do you…” he trailed off losing courage. Leonard growled in frustration, it made you smile. “Yeah, I’ll have a drink with you,” you murmur sleepily. The doctor snorted a laugh, “typical, you couldn’t have let me finish,” he muttered referencing past arguments where he could rarely get a word in edgewise. “It’s all part of my charm,” you yawned and moved closer as Leonard pulled his arm away so he could wrap it around you. He felt warm despite the chill in his office, he was actually happy to be stuck there with you “I don’t know darlin’ I think we need to get the Captain a bottle of bourbon,” you snorted and shook your head, “No his ego will be the size of Europa,” you mumbled drifting off. It was another hour before the lights flickered back to normal and the office door became unsealed, “not a word Christine,” McCoy hissed when the head nurse peaked in mischievously. The woman chuckled, “of course not sir,” she whispered watching as her boss gently lifted you off the floor with ease.

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[itsthenovelteafactor]

Vanya and the Phantom

I asked and y’all answered (special thanks to @schizoidwire and @the-aro-ace-arrow-ace  and all the people who responded to my earlier post for encouraging me!), so it is time for how The Phantom of the Opera song introduction can be read as a look into Vanya’s self-narrative and also foreshadows future events in a really subtle and interesting way. 

I’m channeling my inner Elliot and going into full conspiracy mode. This is gonna be a long one, y’all. 

Part One: In Which I Expose Myself as a Former Theater Kid

So, for those who aren’t familiar with The Phantom of the Opera, it was originally a novel by French writer Gaston Leroux back in 1909. In 1986, Andrew Lloyd Webber rewrote it as a musical. For purposes of my analysis here, I am just going to be discussing the musical because 1) the score used in the opening scene is from it and 2) I’ve never read the book. (If anyone out there has read the book and wants to weigh in, please do!) 

It’s a very aesthetic show, and draws on a lot of gothic themes and imagery. The plot follows an opera house, and specifically a young chorus girl named Christine Daaé. I’m not going to explain the whole show plot in detail because wikipedia exists, but I will do a quick overview here and point out some things as they relate to things I’ll be discussing later. Also there will be a test after and it will NOT be multiple choice.

The show begins when the opera house is sold to new owners who 1) just want to make money and 2) do not respect the opera house’s resident ghost (who isn’t really a ghost, but we’ll get to that later.) When the Phantom makes his presence known, and freaks out the resident prima donna singer (who will be relevant later) Carlotta, who says she won’t sing under these conditions. It is then that Christine appears. She’s quiet and humble and has always lived in the background, but is incredibly talented. The woman who runs the chorus (also owner of the opera house’s resident braincell) suggests Christine sing the part. She does, and is amazing. Everyone is blown away, and she’s catapulted into instant fame and success. 

We later learn that Christine has been studying under the Phantom, who appears to her in mirrors. She calls him the Angel of Music, and thinks that he was sent to teach her by her recently deceased father. He isn’t. He’s actually pretty malicious, and is obsessed with Christine, wants to control her voice, and doesn’t like her dating anyone. Which is a bit awkward when her childhood friend shows up and promptly falls in love with her. 

Anyways, Carlotta is jealous of the attention Christine has been getting and threatens to leave prompting the new owners to cut Christine from the program. The Phantom doesn’t like it at all, sends a bunch of letters, things escalate, people are murdered, and the whole first act ends with the chandelier falling from the ceiling and crashing onto the stage (which is done with really cool effects, oftentimes beginning the show hanging over the audience. It’s a BIG MOMENT and one of the most iconic ones from the show. This will also be relevant later.)

Act two takes place a few months later, wherein no one has seen the Phantom. Shock of all shocks, though, he’s not dead. He’s been writing an opera and he wants Christine to star in it. More stuff happens, you learn the backstory of the Phantom (which is pretty sad, ngl, but in no way makes him less of a creep) and the story ends with the Phantom kidnapping Christine and giving her an ultimatum: stay with him forever, or he kills Raoul (aka childhood friend/romantic interest guy). She agrees to stay with him and he’s so moved by her compassion that he lets them both go and disappears forever. 

Part Two: Casting the Characters

That’s interesting, Rosie (note sarcasm) but you said this was about The Umbrella Academy? I did, in fact. So, we meet Vanya when she’s playing a medley of songs from The Phantom of the Opera. Since it’s primarily the melodies and not one of the orchestral pieces from her performance later (I don’t think), we can assume she’s just playing it for herself (which is nice! good on you, Vanya). 

Maybe she’s never seen the play and just likes the score, but for purposes here, let’s assume she’s familiar with it. 

You can tell a lot about a person by the stories they connect with (for example, I like TUA because I like fun sibling dynamics, found family, music, and being sad). And I think that it makes sense that The Phantom of the Opera would be a story that resonates with Vanya. The overlooked chorus girl finds power in music, and, after years in the background, is finally given a chance to show how special she is. 

So, yeah. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that Vanya sees herself as Christine. There are some discrepancies, sure, but this is Vanya’s self-narrative, which we learn pretty much immediately is unreliable. (Love her, but it’s true.) And if Vanya is Christine, then we can try and tap into her perspective to look at some other characters. 

Anyways remember Carlotta (the prima donna opera singer who always got the spotlight and tried to destroy everything good that happened to Christine because she felt threatened that someone might be as good/better than her whose entire personality and role in the story I just summarized, rendering my plot recap useless)? Carlotta is how Vanya views Allison. (Kind of all her siblings, but her relationship with Allison is the most important here.)

Think about the scene in the cabin? 

“You couldn’t risk me threatening your place in the house! You couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find me special!” - Vanya, having a mental breakdown.

This always struck me as an interesting accusation to throw, since prior to this moment, I don’t think there was any indication that Allison had ever felt threatened by Vanya. She excluded her, sure, and wasn’t super friendly at times, but the idea that Allison has been pulling strings to keep Vanya out of her spotlight is new. But that is exactly the role Carlotta plays in Phantom. 

Fun fact! At one point in the musical, the Phantom enchants Carlotta so that she loses her voice right before coming on stage. 

Part Three: The Phantom of the Opera is there

So based on everything I’ve said so far, the most straightforward reading is then, that Leonard Peabody/Harold Jenkins (who for purposes here I’ll call Leonard) is the stand in for the Phantom, which works... really well. Both in helping to understand Vanya and also because it foreshadows the twist of season one in a really cool way.

So, the Phantom appears to Christine first not as an enemy, but as a friend and teacher, who encourages her to be more confident in her abilities. He trains her to develop her singing ability. While the teacher-student dynamic is actually inverted initially with Vanya and Leonard, from the get go, he is showering her with compliments, encouraging her to be confident in her abilities, and, at least on the surface, supporting her in a way she hasn’t been supported before (he’s a trash human but an expert manipulator). 

But, in the play, the Phantom is also very possessive over Christine and her power (er, I mean voice). He also is perfectly willing to kill and/or hurt people who he views as standing in the way of Christine and her success (see the aforementioned Carlotta incident). Which is exactly what Leonard does to Vanya. He kills the first chair violinist to help her get it, and orchestrates a whole master plan to get her to reveal her powers on his terms. 

Even the part where he starts “training” her to use her powers kind of resembles the second act of the play. The Phantom wrote a play for Christine and she’s going to star in it, whether she wants to or not. 

(One could even make the argument of the parallels between Christine believing the Phantom was sent by her father to teach her and Leonard showing up because of his revenge scheme against Vanya’s father, but I honestly don’t have much support for that.) 

Part Three: Two Conflicting Narratives

So, as you might’ve noticed, I sort of have two different threads of analysis going on right now. 1) The Phantom of the Opera parallel is part of Vanya’s self-narrative and in it she mischaracterizes Allison, making her more suspicious of her motivations and 2) Leonard Peabody is clearly the Phantom and doesn’t bother being subtle about it. I hope that I’ve been convincing (or at least intriguing) for you to get to this point, because here is where they come together.

Vanya has this parallel going, but she doesn’t see Leonard as the Phantom. In the beginning at least, he’s her Raoul. If I had to guess, I’d say Reginald Hargreeves is the Phantom in Vanya’s self-narrative (says he’ll train her but wants to manipulate her and keep her locked away for himself, strict teacher who doesn’t really care about her well being, wearing a mask to appear more normal/human... she wouldn’t exactly be wrong). Leonard, on the other hand, is Vanya’s supporter. He validates her, and believes in her, and taker her side when Carlotta and the opera house owners (er, the rest of the Hargreeves children) gang up on her and conspire to keep her out. 

This is all building to, of course, the final confrontation. The Phantom says Christine has to pick one or the other. When Allison comes to talk to Vanya, Vanya feels as if she’s been given an ultimatum and lashes out.

And that’s where everything (including this parallel) starts to crumble. 

(I honestly don’t know a lot about the other characters and how they fit in. I suppose we could have Five = Raoul if we ignore romance plot and focus on the childhood friend that hasn’t been seen in a while angle? And maybe also Pogo = Madame Giry. Vanya doesn’t really have any friends to be Meg.) 

Part Four: It’s All About the Moon

So that is kind of the gist of The Phantom of the Opera as a window into Vanya’s self-narrative theory, but there are a couple of other loosely related ideas I thought I might as well bring up since this thing is already ridiculously long. 

Remember how I mentioned the chandelier is like, THE scene from The Phantom of the Opera back in part one, and said it’d be relevant later? Bringing that back now, because I’m going to pull a Luther and connect everything to the moon. 

So, to get the obvious out of the way, the moon exploding and the chandelier coming crashing to the stage are similar because something falls, breaks into a bunch of pieces, destroys a bunch of stuff, and creates a powerful and memorable image to close off before an act/season break (the next installment of which begins with a time jump). 

Additionally, it’s worth mentioning that The Phantom of the Opera is told out of order. The opening scene shows a grown up Raoul at an auction for the items left behind after the opera house closes, and it switches to the past as the remains of the chandelier rise upwards to the ceiling, Phantom’s theme swelling (it’s a really cool moment, tbh). Following the prologue of The Umbrella Academy, we switch to the present with two images: Vanya alone on the stage, and then Luther alone on the moon. Which has a kind of symmetry that might mean nothing, but is still kind of cool. 

(Also the item that Raoul buys from the auction is a music box with a monkey crashing symbols on top of it. Which might mean nothing.) 

Part Five: How is she STILL talking about this? (AKA Conclusion)

To be honest, this is more a very tangled “things I noticed and thought were interesting” discussion than a formal essay with any clear thesis. While there is a chance that this was all coincidental and I’ve gone full Pepe Sylvia, the music selection in The Umbrella Academy is one of the things that they seem to be really deliberate about. 

I would love to chat with anyone about this theory, so feel free to reach out in the notes or message me! My inbox is always open. Much love, and thank you for reading, if you got this far! ❤️

[shiteatinggrin]

Hi, so this is my contribution to my first jilytober, I wrote some canon fic, it is kinda sad so I guess you could call this angst? I don’t know, I’m not that good at categorizing fic. Anyways, here is a love letter to James Potter from Lily Evans because he just died under her eyes. Wrote this fast, so I can’t vouch for the quality of this. This is almost 3k of Lily being a sap, so enjoy! Find it here on Ao3.

Bastard with a shit eating grin

Do you remember our first kiss? I can still feel the cold air of winter seeping through the walls of Greenhouse Number Three and you and I laughing together. It was not an unusual thing anymore, but some people could have been surprised, because we had had some big feuds over the years, the Dormitories Dashing and Destroying Disagreement, the Inflating Inner Ear Incident, the Flying Fiona Fight and the Severus Snape Saga consisting of the big highlights. However frustrating it was, we always had fun together, didn’t we?

Now we were falling in love dutifully without realising we had always been meant for each other in some way. I was all colors: glorious red hair, pink cheeks, pale green eyes and horrendously yellow socks. You were all teeth: shining smiles, arrogant smirking, belly-laughing in a silent room or grinding them in concentration for the task you were committing to (hyper-focusing on) at the moment.

‘Oi, Evans, can I copy your homework?’ You would say that practically every day.

‘How about a please, Potter? Might do you some good.’ You watched me smear some soil on my neck when I scratched it and said nothing. I discovered it in Transfiguration two hours later. Crazy how we can only remember the smallest details years later and the big things just go right over our heads. I could only ever remember the small details with you, because whatever we said to each other was never important, only the talking to you part was.

‘Oh Lily, dearest flower to my heart that I worship beyond any rainbow, might I please please please see your diligently done homework so that I can rewrite it because, being the idiot that I am, I was off gallivanting with Sirius yesterday instead of being a good student.’ You added pouts and made doe eyes for good measure as if I wouldn’t already have grabbed the moon from the sky’s grubby hands every night if you had asked it.

I would stifle a smile and put some piece of parchment in your extended hand without even looking, sometimes it was the homework if I was feeling generous, if I were more in a creative mood I might give you a stupid doodle or some kind of letter that would say something like: ‘Dear Prongs, you are an asshat. Looking forward to our rounds tonight so I can kick your ass in Gobstones. Now listen to Sprout, will you? Lily’ with a stupid heart over the i that basically meant PS: I love you. Finally, I’d say something like:

‘I would have laughed, but your head might inflate so much you’d have neck pain for a week.’

You let yourself smile then and continued to jest me, hoping to wrench a smile out of the beast (you always did it literally two minutes later, it is funny how easy it is to win when you give yourself such small tasks).

But that day, amazingly, we broke out of our routine.

At night we would always hang out together in the common room with our friends and slowly the people would fizzle out, having gone up to their dormitories and I would stay on the couch with the urge to kiss you with some dumb excuse not to leave on the tip of my tongue. I painted my nails or read some book or talked to you extensively about something I’d learned recently and you would listen with concentrated eyes and a much too easy smile.

Then you would start talking and when you started some story it would never finish, even now you can’t even recall something as simple as Harry’s first smile without going on for five full minutes without stopping. In these nights I would try to look like I wasn’t paying too much attention to you, like I was detached from everything pertaining to your person, but being young and in love doesn’t exactly give you the best skills in subtlety and so you would ask me if I was paying attention and I would blush and you would make some quip about redheads and their skins and everything would go back to normal.

And out of the blue, when I was talking about getting some sugar quills next time we were in Hogsmeade and how difficult the Ancient Runes paper was, you kissed me. Your hands flew to my hair and mine to cup your face and you pressed your body hard against mine. I’d never seen you so hungry for anything before, it seemed like you had been starving for a thousand years before our lips found each other. I had kissed three boys before you, and none of them could compare to the feeling of ecstasy of your mouth against mine. No one will ever compare to James Potter, right? That’s what you used to say in fourth year when you made a particular lucky goal in Quidditch or when you caught the Snitch in mid-air even though you were a Chaser and we were in Potions classf. Is it weird that I miss that?

I don’t think there ever was a time when I didn’t love you, all electric hair and much too quick brain and hundred stupid nicknames that didn’t mean anything unless you explained them in excruciating detail and you would smile too much and talk too loud and walk too fast and I wouldn’t feel so out of place with you because I did the exact same things. Petunia was always prim and proper and I always tried to be like her and please everyone but you taught me how to be myself and how to blossom into my personality without even knowing it. With you I’ve never been too much, I was always just enough.

Everything always came so easy to you, and I’ve always hated you for it. Now I think that I can’t appreciate enough how you could always share that with everyone around you, that incredible luck that could get you out of the worst of predicaments. I guess it all caught up to us today, but I don’t mind now. I’ll love you forever, come what may.

My heart is full of wanted posters of you: dead or alive.

I can’t remember the first time I’ve really noticed you, because you were always in the periphery, doing stupid things and getting in trouble and beaming for no reason at all and the memory of your presence was impossible to shake, but I still remember the first time we really became friends. We were fifteen by the lake and my best friend betrayed me under the glistening sun, the following day I had the worst grade in Transfiguration I’d ever gotten. You found me crying by a window on the fifth floor and apologized a hundred times (which I couldn’t have cared less at the moment), but you still went and talked to McGonagall and she agreed to let me retake the test in the afternoon and offered me a biscuit.

In seventh year, a girl told me that she was so jealous of the fact that I was the only one that could make James Potter change and mature. As if your life revolved around me. I thought of your sick father and the fact that Sirius had appeared on your front door one day and never left your house and with a twinge in my heart thought of the war coming and I couldn’t believe my ears. With all this going on, and she still thought you’d only change for a girl?

I’m not proud of this, but I might have shouted at her and maybe, perhaps I was the one that sent a silencing charm her way, but who could really tell? Not her, because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

I wonder if I ever told you that. Probably, because you know everything interesting there is to know about me. You even know the most boring facts about me, because they amuse you just the same. You know I like peonies the best in spite of my name and that my first kiss was with Snape when I was eight, you know that I wiped my mouth right after and didn’t know yet what love was. You know that my favourite band is Hate Potion and that my guilty pleasure is Celestina Warbeck. You know that I wanted to name our son Harry because of a muggle TV show I used to watch with Petunia when I was seven on Saturday mornings and that when I fight my favorite charm is Expelliarmus. You were at my side when I killed my first (and last) Death Eater and that I cried for a week afterward. You comforted me for five hours when Marlene and her entire family were massacred in their own home, the same one where I had spent a good chunk of my summers to avoid Petunia. You know that I only ever paint my toenails blue and that my favorite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip. You know all about my relationship with my sister and how she used to be my best friend and that we used to dance in bathing suits around the sprinkler and fake being witches to make potions out of mud and flowers and how she never forgave when this dream became true for me but not for her. You know all about my failed relationships, with Tuney, Sev and my ex-boyfriend who left me because he didn’t want to be associated with a muggleborn. You know I’m absolute shite at drawing and that I can’t dance to save my life and you laugh at me when I’m drunk and try to follow Peter’s choreography to some dumb song I don’t know. Last year, you helped paint flowers all over my bookcase because I wanted it to be unique and just mine.

When Harry was born, you refused to sleep for two days because he was so cute when he slept against your chest, but you finally fell asleep while cutting onions for dinner and I had to intervene.

One of my favourite things about you is that I have never seen anyone so full of life. You smile like nothing has ever gone wrong in your entire life and you are more loyal than any Hufflepuff I’ve ever seen, you would die for any of us in a heartbeat and we would do the same for you anytime. My love for you is so big I wonder how it even fits in our little house in Godric’s Hollow. You painted our walls burnt orange because you said it reminded you of my hair and I wonder if it is weird to fall in love with you even more over some colour choices. You complete me because as much as you are a complete idiot, you still recommend the best books and are smart enough to plan the best pranks, but too smug to make anyone else take the blame. You had always been my favourite person in the whole universe until Harry arrived, but he is so much like you that it is like meeting you at a much earlier age. He has the same laugh as you, you know?

I cannot believe how brave you are, because traditional courage requires you to go into battle and protect everyone you love like a lioness does her cubs, but you have found the energy to keep going even trapped in this house with an infant without being able to help your friends outside. You go everyday against your most basic instincts and you manage to have so much fun with us, but I see the tired bags under your eyes and the fact that you lose your train of thoughts sometimes and I know that you’re thinking about the war and the security of the boys, I know they are your family and it would kill you if one of them ever fell into battle, yet you never complain, yet you never lose hope. I love you so much my feeble heart can’t contain it all. My love for you is as inevitable as the blue of the sky, as the oxygen in our lungs, as the passage of time, I love you so much that when I see you it is like coming home, your wild hair and round glasses and mischievous eyes and soft voice and much too long limbs and wide chest and calloused hands and smile like an answer to all my problems.

No one has ever made me feel as secure as you and now I know I have to be strong for you, because you are the one that’s fallen, like a marionnette whose strings were cut. The coffee stain on the right arm of your shirt is the last thing I will see of you, or maybe it is a bit of your wild inky hair. I will never be able to look at the night sky the same.

I can hear him in the stairs, and all I can think about is you and Harry this morning, my two favourite people in the world, sat on the carpet and puffs of colour coming out of your wand, your laugh coming out of his mouth, one single tooth poking out, little chubby legs shaking from laughter, the wand you stupidly left on the carpet (the wand you didn’t care wasn’t in your hands because you didn’t care if you died, you just wanted us to live). Your last gift to me was the most precious of all: you gave me the time to say goodbye to Harry.

‘Mama loves you. Dada loves you, Harry.’ That is the only thing I find to say, because it is true and my heart is breaking, I can hear it thundering, collapsing like a dying star, you are dead, I will die, Harry has to live. I cannot withstand the thought.

I have never loved anyone better than the two of you. Apparently I never will, but at least I have known real love, the one that comes from daily life, that never dies because it is kept alive by stupid little things that make us who we are. Crazy how we only remember the little things and the big ones just go right over our heads.

I will remember the smallest things about you, like the little scar in your left eyebrow, the weird placement of your thumb on your wand, the feel of your skin against mine and the way it tanned in the summer while mine just became redder and redder, the sound of your laugh when Sirius said something funny and the way you always pushed your glasses up your nose with your middle finger, the way you sit in any chair like it’s a throne, the way you answered questions in class without raising your hand, the way you held a book open when you were reading it, your last day where you wanted to make pasta and I wanted steak, the way you would mess with your hair not because you thought it would make you look like you just stepped off your broom, but because you were nervous or restless. On your good days it would stand flatter on your head and I had to pass my hand through it because otherwise it just didn’t feel like you. You laughed too much when Sirius decided to read Crime and Punishment to Harry as a bedtime story and your son wouldn’t go to sleep. You would tell him stories of your childhood disguised as muggle magical adventures and I became a knight, Sirius a prince and Snape a dragon. You would call my cat Fiona the ginger cat, as if Fiona wasn’t enough and she needed an extra title. I guess she was royalty after all. You always tried to make me believe that she loved you more than me, even though I’d had her since I was eleven and you once made her fly across the common room just to annoy me.

Do you remember this morning? The last time you ever kissed me? You made me eggs and tea for breakfast and sang some Beatle song for me in the most off-key voice. You stole the bacon from my plate, laughing from across the dinner table. I was so happy because you were in a good mood today, you didn’t seem to feel so trapped and it was Halloween and you were trying to convince me to dress Harry up as a muggle magician, which I thought was the worst joke you’d ever made. You kissed me on the mouth and we settled on a pumpkin costume. Your lips tasted of stolen bacon and orange juice (you’ve never been much of a morning tea person).

I have never loved anyone better, and apparently I never will.

The house is so silent now that you are gone. All I can hear are my own ragged breaths. Harry seems to think this is some kind of game. He is all that we have left now. All that will ever be left of us. To love is to create, right? We have created the most beautiful person in the world, it should be the only thing that counts.

I love you. I could try to make this poetic, the love thing, but I think the most poetic way it can be is on its own. I don’t know any words more powerful than I love you. I love you and you are dead. I love you and I will die soon. I love our son and he will live. Life is as simple as that. I love you and soon we’ll be together again. Miss you already.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Let’s talk about ‘Friends’ by BTS

by Admin 1

Friends is the subunit song by Jimin and Taehyung (co-written and co-produced by Jimin) from Map of the Soul : 7 which was released in February 2020. Interestingly enough, the Korean title is actually 친구, a word that is only used for friends of the same age, which is how ARMY figured out that it had to be their subunit prior to the release of the album.

On a very surface level, Friends is about the bond between Jimin and Taehyung recounting different little stories over the years, including the now famous dumpling incident which was first presented to us as a conflict that merely took up a few hours. Actually though it was a conflict that grew big enough that Jimin and Taehyung barely spoke to each other for two weeks and it culminated in Jimin getting drunk with Yoongi and then meeting Taehyung at a park at 4 am to make up. Yes, the same park at 4 am that Taehyung and Namjoon sing about in 4 O’Clock. That song, like many suspected, really was about Jimin and Taehyung as well.

But, while Friends might seem simple and fun on the outside, especially due to the upbeat melody and anthem like chorus, I think there is far more to it than meets the eye. Stella Jang, who co-wrote the lyrics, said in an interview with K-Pop Herald that BigHit sent her an email which contained the song as well as long stories about Jimin’s and Taehyung’s bond and based on that she was supposed to write short lyrics. She also had a friend, who is an ARMY, help her truly understand the depth of their bond. That alone to me shows that this goes far deeper than most might assume, and others wish for it.

Hello my alien We’re each other’s mystery Would it be why it’s more special

This verse for me is very interesting, especially since Jimin reclaims a nickname that people used to call Taehyung by which he hated. Instead Jimin turned it into something endearing, something that now belongs to them instead of others. It’s also noteworthy that that specific line is in English, not Korean, and he says my alien, so basically telling the listener that he takes some kind of claim over Taehyung, connects them in a way that anyone would understand, and unmistakably highlights that he’s the only one to call him like this because Taehyung is special to him, much the way you’d call someone dear to you/someone you love by an endearment such as ‘my darling’ or ‘my love’. 

More below the cut:

The mystery part could refer to the early days of their friendship, the times when they were just getting to know each other and trying to figure out their dynamic and each other in a more general sense. We know they almost instantly became friends, stuck to each other and spent a lot of time together, despite constantly getting in little fights, but perhaps those struggles were what made the end result that much more special to them. Interesting to note is also how Jimin once said that when he saw Tae for the first time he experienced many different emotions (he didn’t specify which ones though), and how to this day he remembers Tae only wearing those red shorts and snapback and how even then he already looked like an idol/celebrity. 

But the line could also refer to something more recent, or something more overarching, like a secret about themselves that only they know about, that they share and guard together.

Someday, when these cheers die down, stay hey Stay with me by my side Forever, keep staying here, hey

and

Someday, when these cheers die down, stay hey You are my soulmate Forever, keep staying here, hey You are my soulmate

These two might just be the most important parts of the song, and the ones that seem to be the hardest to swallow for some. This is basically Jimin and Taehyung asking each other to stay together forever, even when (or especially when) their careers will be over and BTS won’t be such a main and overarching reason for them to stay by each other anymore, so to speak. It implies that what they have is something they want to last forever, that it reaches far beyond them just being two best friends inside a group, but that they are rather two people who found ‘their person’ in each other. They know they’ve found something one of a kind, once in a lifetime, and want to hold on to it, to each other. It’s also them proclaiming and reminding everyone once again that they are soulmates, that this isn’t just something ARMY made up, some shipping agenda or anything like it, but that it is truly the title they see most fit for each other, that it basically feels like their bond was destiny and they were always meant to be together. You are my soulmate is also in English, something that every listener will understand, something so important they specifically made it this way so you wouldn’t need to look up translations from Korean to get it.

Sidenote--somehow soulmate has become a very debated term in connection to vmin so lets look at the definition for soulmate that wikipedia gives us: A soulmate is a person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity. This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust. Most of these are rather connected to the most traditional way in which people imagine soulmates, as in two people destined for each other, lovers perfect for one another. Of course there are friendship type soulmates, but those are far more rare in peoples minds. The point I’m getting at is that Jimin and Taehyung never defined which type of soulmate they are, and until I saw non-vminies have a fight about how they’re definitely just platonic ones, I never even really saw the word soulmate in connection with ‘platonic’. In a way you could argue that both sides are right, that they are both friendship soulmates but also romantic ones as well, their bond encompassing both. But in the end, of course, that’s something only they can confirm yet I thought I’ll mention it anyway.

Like your pinky, we’re still the same I know your everything We must trust each other Don’t forget Instead of an obvious thank-you, you and I — let’s promise that we won’t fight tomorrow, for real

These lines may seem so simple, short and sweet, but I think there is a lot of meaning to them, a lot that’s written between the lines and potentially only something they understand the true extent of. I know your everything is another reminder that they are each others secret keepers, each others closest confidants, their person to go to and laugh or cry or celebrate with. Jimin and Taehyung have something that is rare, one of a kind, and it’s something beautiful that should be regarded with respect and wonder since it’s close to a miracle that they met and formed their bond in such a manner. After all Jimin is from Busan and Taehyung from Daegu, chances are, if BTS hadn’t happened, they might’ve never met, though looking at everything BTS have said about each other, they seem to believe they were all destined to meet regardless if as members of BTS or as normal people. The same most likely would’ve also have been the case for Jimin and Taehyung, and Friends is a beautiful piece of proof of that.

Many dismiss Friends as just a song about their friendship, but I think once you truly think about the lyrics and the thoughts that must’ve gone into it, you might change your mind. Even more so when you take into account what Namjoon said about Friends in his MOTS:7 vlive, how he wouldn’t even dare try writing any of the lyrics because he could never, ever do them justice, and how just thinking about the bond Taehyung and Jimin have, he gets goosebumps. That alone already says a lot, implies a lot of different things, very deep and (in my opinion) potentially more than just friends type things. There was also a moment during Bon Voyage 3 in Malta where Namjoon and Seokjin were at a restaurant together and somehow they brought up Taehyung and Jimin and both just shook their heads at how they are just--something, something apparently meaningful enough neither dared to voice it.

Friends might not be something you’d call a traditionally romantic or love song by any means, at least sound wise, but I’d argue the lyrics tell a completely different story, one of a bond that binds two souls, that combines friendship and love (both the love you have for a cherished friend, but also the one you feel for a romantic partner, I’d argue). The song, as well as 4 O’Clock are far more than meets the eye, you just have to be open and willing enough to see it.

After all Taehyung did say: “95z is love.” The biggest clue of them all.

(Lyric snippets taken from 친구 (Friends))