#apartment 'complex'? actually i find it quite simple. no guys really its so simple you gotta believe me. why dont you believe me.

[valtsv]

an angle i enjoy in cosmic/eldritch horror is when, instead resorting to the old classic "the horrors being so incomprehensible that they break your brain and drive you mad" cliché, the premise is that in comprehending the horrors you are so changed by the experience that your new state is indistinguishable to an outside observer from madness. you comprehend the unknowable just fine, but actually communicating that to anyone else is impossible because they just don't have the mental framework required to understand it. the eldritch horrors don't drive you mad. what does is the ordinary everyday horror of finding yourself isolated, ridiculed and doubted at every turn, no matter how hard you try to make yourself heard and understood.

[haru-dipthong]

Really good anime translation: コタローは一人暮らし

I complained in a post a while ago about how I mostly think english translations of anime aren’t very good, and @japanwords asked me if there were any anime I know of that have good translations. I don’t actually watch that much anime so I didn’t have a good answer, but recently I found one that really fit the bill: 『コタローは一人暮らし』or “Kotaro lives alone”

For those who haven’t seen it, it’s a show about a 5 year old kid who lives alone without any parents or guardians, and makes friends with his neighbours in the apartment complex (a lazy manga artist, a woman who’s a hostess at a local nightclub, and a scary yakuza who finds Kotaro unbelievably cute). These friends end up helping Kotaro when he needs someone to act as a guardian, such as when he enrols at the local kindergarten.

The other thing you have to know about Kotaro is he speaks like a Japanese feudal lord.

This really is the crux of what makes the translation so good, because how the hell do you translate that?! The way they chose to do it is by using archaic english phrases. He kinda speaks like a Victorian era gentleman, and he sometimes even verges on sounding like a stereotypical medieval knight. This works perfectly, because Kotaro is actually imitating a character from his favourite cartoon: a samurai hero/feudal lord. Let’s look at some examples:

「放すである」 "Unhand me!"

A simple example to start with, I thought it might be interesting to compare how a 5 year old might actually say this, and how I would translate that:

「放してー！😭"」 "Let goooo! 😭"

Even though the japanese uses the same verb (放す), the english translation is completely different. The choice here to make it “unhand me” (much more evocative of a time period) instead of just “let go of me” (simply a longer way of saying it) is a perfect example of the care this anime puts into its translation.

狩野：「美月さん、アイス食べます？…… あれ？」 “Hey, Mizuki. Would you like an ice cream cone? …… Hello?” 美月：「アイスをもらうけど私、狩野くん誘ってないんだよなぁ」 “While I appreciate the ice cream, you know you weren’t actually invited, Karino.” コタロー：「お邪魔である」 “Interloper.”

邪魔 is a notoriously difficult word to translate, and the natural-sounding corresponding english phrase will vary quite wildly depending on the situation. In non-feudal lord speech, it usually gets translated to something like “you’re getting in my way” or “get out of here” or even “you’re a burden” (my least favourite).

Here, it’s creatively translated as “interloper”! A great way of sneaking in some archaic english while deftly handling a classically difficult-to-translate word.

コタロー：「わらわは写真が大の苦手なのだ」 “I am ill-disposed to having my picture taken!”

Here we have a slightly longer sentence which shows us a bit more of Kotaro’s unusual speech pattern. He uses the archaic first-person pronoun わらわ（妾）and often ends his sentences in なのだ. なのだ is not a particularly odd grammar structure to use, but it is unusual to use it unabbreviated (i.e. not shortening it to なんだ and/or adding よ to the end) especially when using it in speech rather than in writing. Not abbreviating it (as would be expected in a formal situation), but immediately contrasting that formality with the informal だ rather than です causes the speech to sound archaic without actually using any archaic vocabulary.

Now, if this show only translated the old-timey speech pattern well, I’d still call it a good translation. But the attention to detail and focus on natural sounding language extends to the other characters too!

Let’s take a look at an example of Karino’s speech. This is from ep 3; we already know a fair bit about who he is - a manga artist who doesn’t leave the house much (mostly works from home), usually wears comfortable clothes around, leaves things til the last minute and is generally a pretty lazy guy. I say this because the following translation doesn’t “work” (that is, the english and japanese wouldn’t mean the same thing) if it was spoken by a different kind of character.

phone rings 狩野：「担当さんかー」 “Oh great, it’s my editor” 狩野：「お疲れ様です、狩野です。… はい … 今日原稿を？はい、わかりました。じゃあ、後で」 “Hello, this is Karino. How may I help you? … Yes … Wait. Now, now? … Uh-huh, yes. Okay, thank you, I’ll be there soon.” コタロー：「どこか行くのか？」 “Do you need to go somewhere?” 狩野：「仕事。出版社に行く。今回もダメ出しさ��んのかな？」 “Yeah, I gotta go to work. There goes my day. … I’m sure he’ll just rip it apart like he always does.” 狩野：「あの人結構グサグサ刺さる事言うんだよなぁ」 “The way he criticises, it’s actually pretty hurtful.”

I really like this translation, it feels very clever and results in very natural sounding english. I said this wouldn’t work for a different character, but I think even for the same character, this translation wouldn’t work on ep 1 - the audience wouldn’t have the context for the translation to omit the specific words it does and get away with it.

For example, the line 「今日原稿を？」 directly refers to a manga draft, but the draft isn’t directly referred to in the english. But it ends up being ok, because we can infer that he’s handing in some sort of draft for review from a later line (”I’m sure he’ll just rip it apart…”). Also, 「出版社に行く」 directly states that he’s going to the publishing house, but the english simply refers to it as “work”. But we can infer this too - he’s going to see his editor, and since most of his work is drawing and writing, which he does at home, we know that when he says he’s “going to work”, he’s actually going to the publishing offices.

Prioritising the natural sound of the script over the specific details is a bold choice that really pays off, imo. This is some of the most natural english I’ve ever seen in an anime translation. I recommend checking it out if you’re interested!

[rpsense]

it is honestly more complex than simply having a diversity rule or not, however what i was trying to say is it's valid for a roleplayer of color to say they don't want the standard "one in this many should be diverse" rule. a diversity rule like that shouldn't be the end all of guidelines around having characters of color in the rpc, but it very often is (imo because its what's easiest for white rpers). the anon brought up a valid concern about a very specific minority group, and was asking you guys for advise. to dismiss that as "a stupid ass reason not to have a diversity rule" feels to me, done in bad faith. idk but it read to me like a person who's trying to do better and get input on how to create a diversity rule in a roleplay while also acknowledging how often fcoc have their ethnicity washed away or stereotyped due to that very same rule, and they want to make sure that the polynesian characters that are a part of the canon lore of their group are treated respectfully. i've seen so many fcs from my own culture being culturally whitewashed just to meet a diversity rule, and i was also honestly interested to see this maybe spark up a discussion on how this could be approached better in the future. it sucked to see you guys dismiss it out of hand. i agree that inaccurate diversity is better than no diversity, but seeing characters from my culture constantly whitewashed of their background, even with something as simple as their names, is just as awful and it's good to address that imo. esp because when you do point this out, the (white) roleplayers often overcorrect into stereotype territory, and it's exhausting. we deserve better than the only options being caricature or cultureless. sorry for the long anon twice in a row btw, this topic is something i've been frustrated with for a while, and the ghost of yappers past overtook my body.

okay for starters for me a diversity rule is just non negotiable, i'm not joining a group that'll allow you to have 10 white muses because i'm not comfortable in those spaces and my muses are always pushed aside and ignored in those spaces. yes it's unfortunate that you need a diversity rule in the first place to have diversity in the rpc, but unfortunately on that it kinda is what it is. the chances of there being diversity without a diversity rule are little to none.

tbh i personally didn't read that anon, i haven't been around here the past few days that regularly because i just haven't had the time so i can't really speak on all of that. if x feels they need to comment then they will. if not, then they said what they said! and just btw if you scroll further i'm quite sure x did in fact give advice that the anon did not want to take. apart from that we aren't an rph, if you're not satisfied with the help we've given you, please find an rph to do that for you. we're here to discuss topics that come up in the rpc, and if our advice isn't sufficient for you then respectfully please find someone who can serve your needs better.

obviously we deserve better than being a caricature or cultureless, but of the two evils i'm picking the later personally, sorry. that's my personal opinion. obviously this is geared towards how some of not most white roleplayers act because muns of colour usually have enough respect for other cultures to actually do the proper research. i know i personally always do, i'm sure you do too. i'd rather see representation than be the only person writing a muse from my bg in a group. it took me years to come around to being able to write someone of my own ethnicity in a group and i'm not trying to regress just cause some white person's avan jogia is too culturally whitewashed for me. if you're generally asking me how i think this could be approached better in the future — simply do better. there are roleplayers of colour out there that are more than happy to talk about their cultural backgrounds. talk to them when you're making a muse. seek out guides. read about the naming culture of an area. look up the traditional food. see what second or third language (or even first) you can give your muse. add small details without making it overwhelming. it's literally not hard. if you're asking from an admin perspective, literally just make it a full app or semi appless and you can weed out the people unwilling to make an effort to delve into the cultural background of a muse. make the extra effort instead of just .. not having diversity or not having a diversity rule. it's that simple. - o

to add. putting us on a pedestal and expecting us to have an impenetrable solution for ignorant, uncaring white people in the rpc is very online of you. the weather is lovely this time of year. - x

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Seven. Cooties, Discall, and Flirting

warnings: swearing, also I used the word “flirt” so many times it no longer holds meaning so beware word count: 4k 

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: putting it up here this time!!!! i liked this chap so i hope you do too!!!!! if you didn’t see the missing dms from part 3 (which are now actually in part 3), bugsy agreed to a minecraft date with dream in exchange for karl touring her on his smp!! anyway, enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**********

The frosty air bit at Y/n's skin as she hurriedly shut the car door behind her, starting up her car in an attempt to find warmth as quickly as possible. "Why do I live here?" she asked through chattered teeth, causing Naomi to laugh.

"It's not that cold!"

"I don't know how you're okay with this."

"Do you want me to drive? You're so stiff you'll crash,” Naomi offered as she looked at Y/n.

"I'm fine, I just need to warm up for a second," Y/n assured as she rubbed her hands together in front of the heater.

Naomi giggled and took her hands, rubbing them to help heat them up.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Now hurry up, I have a work meeting in like 30 minutes."

"What?" she gasped, quickly putting her gloves back on. "Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have spent so much time looking at Christmas decorations!"

"I'm just kidding. But Karl will be mad if he has to wait for his food any longer."

"You're seriously the worst." She smacked Naomi's arm and started driving, much less panicked than a few moments prior.

"You love me."

"Whatever. How's your internship going by the way?"

Naomi sighed. "Good. It's really hard to be motivated to go since it's unpaid but it's the last thing I need to graduate so I have to do it."

"But you enjoy it, right? I mean it's what you want to do."

"Yeah, no, I love it. I just wish I was getting paid so I didn't have to work at the grocery store too. I wish I could get paid to play video games like you."

Y/n deflated slightly. She hated when people put it like that, it made her sound like it wasn't a real job but it was challenging in its own way. "I'll teach you how to pvp and you'll be on your way to the top."

"Maybe then I could actually meet George myself instead of waiting around for you to do it."

"Wait!" Y/n gasped. "Did I not... did I not tell you about the other night?"

"Uh... I guess not? What happened?"

Y/n squealed. "Dude! Make a Discord account right now. Get your phone out and make one."

"Why? What is that?"

"It's the thing we all use to voice call during streams and in private and stuff. Come on!" Y/n used her right hand to urge Naomi to grab her phone. "George said you can't have his number but you can have his Discord."

"Wait, really??" Naomi gasped. "Wait, what does that mean!? I can talk to him on it!?"

Y/n laughed. "Yes, yes! You can text or voice call or even video call but I don't suggest that right away. Don't scare him away."

"He really said he'd add me back? Wait, when did you talk to him about me?"

"On Dream's stream. After the movie, I went and talked to them for a few hours."

"Is that why I heard you giggling at four in the morning?"

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up. "Okay, well, that was just with Dream. George and Sapnap left the call around one and two."

"Date."

"Sounds to me like someone doesn't want GeorgeNotFound's Discord..."

Y/n saw Naomi cower shyly. "Sorry. Please give it to me."

"I don't know it off the top of my head, silly. So be nice for the rest of the car ride and I'll get it when we get home."

"Is Karl meeting us at our apartment or his?"

"Ours. Can you tell him we're almost there?"

"I don't know if I have the strength to... talk to someone who's such good friends with... my love..." Naomi started with a dramatic sigh, "it just reminds me of the pain I go through daily... without him..."

"If that were true, you couldn't talk to me. I'm also good friends with Mr. Not Found."

Naomi threw her head to glare at Y/n, who just laughed. "Come on, text Karl. Please. His food will get cold."

Y/n watched as Naomi typed away on her phone. Soon, the two pulled up to their apartment complex and headed upstairs. Y/n turned the corner and walked down the hall to see Karl standing at their front door.

"KARL JACOBS! WE HAVE FOOD!"

He looked up quickly from his phone and beamed at them. "My heroes!"

"What are you doing outside, silly?" Y/n asked. "Don't you have a key?"

"Naomi made me give it back after I pulled that prank on you guys last month," he explained as Y/n unlocked the door.

"Well deserved. I still find glitter everywhere."

Y/n set the food on the counter and the other two crowded around. "Thank you, mother, for lunch," Karl joked and kissed her cheek loudly, his love language of physical touch jumping out of him. Y/n grimaced playfully as she wiped her cheek on her shoulder.

"GROSS!!! COOTIES!"

Karl pouted. "I thought we were best fwends, Y/n . Best fwends don't have cooties."

"You do. You're a boy."

Y/n's phone lit up as Karl started going on a joking rant about how Y/n  always is so mean to his affections and he can't help wanting to show his friends he loves them and how she's so mean and, "Y/n you're not even listening to my complaints how are we supposed to be best friends when you're too busy talking to your boyfriend all the time and—"

"Boyfriend?" Y/n looked up quickly, worried he had seen the text from Peter that she just read. He was still trying to convince her to talk to him even after she bluntly told him no and why.

Karl walked over to the couch with his food and sat next to Naomi. "I was just joking... why, is there someone?" he giggled. "Dreeeaam maybe?"

Y/n shook her head, and her lack of defensiveness made Naomi and Karl look at each other. Normally she turned bright red and stumbled over her words when they joked about anyone being her boyfriend, but she was stone cold silent as her phone continued to illuminate her face.

"Y/n... What's up?" Naomi asked. "Is it Peter again?"

"Peter?" Karl's eyebrows raised and his food almost fell out of his mouth. "He's been texting you?"

Y/n sighed, locking her phone and sliding it in her pocket before finally joining her friends on the couch. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not."

"He wants to talk," Y/n mumbled.

"What?" Karl asked genuinely.

"I said he wants to talk."

Karl just stared for a few moments before looking at Naomi, who nodded, then back at Y/n. "You're not going to, right? Right? You've got to be kidding me, Y/n, he's a selfish dick and he's just going to keep hurting you. Why do you keep giving him the benefit of the doubt when he's proven time and time again that he's nothing but a fuc—"

"Karl!" Y/n interrupted. "I'm obviously not going to talk to him."

Karl's face flushed, probably embarrassed that he had assumed the worst and ranted. He sighed, exasperated. "Why don't you just block him already?"

Y/n shrugged. "He's harmless now that I don't let his words get to me."

"I'm just glad you finally decided not to meet up with him," Naomi said.

Y/n  shrugged like it was an obvious choice, but deep down she couldn't help but think about the exact reason she had come to that decision. Besides all the pain he had caused her, how could she consider getting back together with her ex when she finds herself giddy about talking to someone else over Discord? Simple: she couldn't. The possibility of liking Dream briefly crossed her mind, and she knew that in the few weeks she had talked to him, the faceless man she had never met in real life made her feel better about herself than her ex-boyfriend ever did in the two years they dated. She wasn't sure quite what that meant, but she knew it was something.

"Can I have George's Dis...call or whatever it's called now? Please?"

Y/n laughed at the failed attempt at remembering the name of the application and pulled out her phone, directing Naomi on where to add friends and listing off his name and hashtag. Naomi then gave Y/n her name so she could tell George who to add back. "There, now leave me alone about George for the rest of your life."

Naomi giggled giddily before going to her room, eyes glued to her phone for the moment he would add her back.

"I'm sorry for being so bossy when it comes to Peter," Karl muttered.

Y/n shrugged and cuddled into the couch, hugging a pillow to her stomach. "I get that he was awful, but you have to trust me to know what to do."

"I do! I promise I trust you but..." Karl paused to groan, "but he just makes my blood boil. I've never hated anyone in my life but I would love to slice his head off if I ever got the chance."

"Thank you for being protective, but I promise I can handle myself."

Karl looked at her sadly. "Why did you stay with him for so long? Even after he cheated on you and said all those horrible things?"

She shrugged shamefully. "I had no one else."

"You had me and Naomi! Y/n, you've never been alone."

"That's not what I mean, Karl. I love you guys so much but it's not the same as dating someone, you know?"

"I guess..." he sighed. "But wouldn't you rather be alone than with someone who's so possessive you're afraid to tell him about your real job?"

Y/n dropped her shoulders. He had a point. She really shouldn't have stayed with Peter as long as she did. He was scary. "Yeah."

A scream from the other room snapped them out of their serious conversation. "HE ADDED ME BACK!"

Y/n laughed and Karl shook his head. "Poor George. He's about to regret so much," she predicted.

"Noooo... I'm sure he and Naomi will get along great," Karl argued. "They'll be friends at least."

"Maybe. Hey, any updates about cameragirl?"

Karl blushed immediately and Y/n smiled.

"Is that a yes??"

"I... may have... finally spoken to her. Y/n, she's so cute. Like, she's so nice and I want to protect her from everything."

"What did you guys talk about?!" Y/n gasped, sitting up quickly.

"You're going to be so disappointed in me..."

"Did you talk about Sonic the Hedgehog again? Karl, I swear—"

"No! But I only said like two words."

"What two words?"

"Um, I said hi, and then she asked how I was and I said good."

"KARL!"

"I know!" he said as he buried his face in his hoodie sleeves. "I'm the worst! I don't know how to talk to her! She's so cute!!!"

Y/n laughed endearingly and pulled his hands away. "My offer still stands, I'll teach you how to flirt if you want."

"No, I still don't believe that you can actually flirt."

"I totally can, but fine. Ask Naomi to help you if you don't trust me. She'd teach you if you want." Y/n looked down at her phone as it lit up with notifications from Twitter.

As if he knew by the smile on her face who it was, Karl challenged, "Flirt with Dream to prove you can."

"I have nothing to prove to you," Y/n mumbled, standing up. "But he wants to call me so I'm going to my room. You're welcome to stay here or go home since Naomi's still in her room too."

"Mkay," Karl said. "I'll just stay here for now. Thanks again for the food."

"No problem, dude." Y/n disappeared to her room and opened Discord on her computer, waiting for Dream to call her. She answered when he finally did.

"Hi, Dream," she smiled into her headset.

"Hi, Bug. What are you up to?"

"Nothing. I was just explaining to Karl how good I am at flirting because he doesn't believe that I'm good."

"I don't either."

"What?" she laughed. "Why does no one think I can? Have you seen all the thirsty people flirting with me on Twitter? You included."

"Yeah, but you hardly flirt back. You just insult us."

"I can flirt when I want to."

"Prove it."

"...I don't want to."

"Why? Because you can only flirt with your boyfriend?"

"Are you trying to get me to admit I have a secret lover?"

"Yes."

"Well too bad, I don't."

"Interesting... so you," he paused, careful with his words, "so you decided... not to listen to whats-his-face?"

"Mhm," she hummed, not trusting her voice to stay steady. Why was she nervous? She crossed her fingers hoping that he wouldn't ask how or why she came to that conclusion. She didn't have a lie ready to hide the fact that it might have something to do with Dream.

"Then there's no reason you can't flirt with me."

Y/n sighed dramatically but still smiled. "Why did you call me? Just to make fun of my flirting abilities?"

"No, I called because I'm bored."

"Wow, so I'm just a backup when GeorgeNotFound and Sapnap are busy?"

"Actually, I called you before I tried either of them."

"Interesting..." she mocked him and he scoffed.

"Stop changing the subject and flirt with me!!! Give me your best pickup line!! Why won't you?"

"How about because I reserve flirting for people who deserve it?"

"Oh, it's that good, huh? You have to be on a VIP list to be flirted with by you?"

"Yeah," she laughed, completely joking. "It's life-changing."

"How do I get on that list?"

"Why do you want me to flirt with you so bad, you weirdo?"

"Because you said it's life-changing! And because I just don't believe that you're good at flirting."

"Why? What about me screams that I'm an awkward mess?"

"Everything!" he laughed. "Every time I've witnessed anyone flirt with you you just get all embarrassed and change the subject. Or on Twitter when we flirt with you, you almost always just reject us outright. People like that aren't smooth."

"Fine. I'll flirt with you, Dream. Not now but when you least expect it and it'll leave you so speechless that you'll never question me again."

"Good. I'm excited."

She snorted lightly and shook her head. "You're ridiculous."

"Oh, hey, you know how I said Sapnap, George, and I wanted to do a big hangout thing with everyone?"

"Yes! Is it happening??"

"Yeah! We still don't know exactly when but George mentioned he thinks New Year's Eve and New Year's Day are stupid holidays so we want to get everyone together in person for that to prove it's a great holiday."

"I mean... I'm kinda with George on this one," Y/n agreed.

"What?! How? It's the start of a New Year! It's an excuse to kiss someone and you start the year with all your friends and loved ones and-"

"It's literally just another day. The only thing that changes is people accidentally put the wrong year when they write dates down for the first month."

Dream laughed. "That's stupid. No. It's a good holiday."

"Whatever. You'll just have to prove to me that it's good."

"I will."

"And the thing you said about having an excuse to kiss someone is stupid. If you wanna kiss someone, just kiss them."

"That easy, huh?"

"Yes."

Dream hummed thoughtfully, a mischievously playful tone to it that made Y/n change the subject slightly to spare her heart from beating too hard.

"So he's coming for New Years'?"

"Okay, yeah, so he doesn't know exactly what date but we're trying to get as many of our friends as we can to come so we have to plan around everyone. Also obviously you and Karl and Naomi are invited."

"Oh, Naomi too? Good, because I think they're talking to each other right now."

"They are," Dream laughed. "George texted me when she added him and he panicked because he doesn't know how to talk to girls."

"What?!" Y/n gasped in offense. "That's his and my thing! Why didn't he text me panicking??"

"He said he was going to text you but since it's your friend he felt awkward."

She grunted. "Fine. I guess that makes sense. Except, I know her better than anyone so I'd be waaay more helpful than you."

"You saying I don't know how to talk to girls?"

"I mean, you've used so many pickup lines on me on Twitter and I'm still not wowed, so yeah, I'd say you aren't as smooth as you'd like to think."

"Bug! What?! I'm totally good at talking to girls," Dream tried to defend, pulling excuses out of his ass. "I just haven't used my best tactics because you're easier to scare away than most. As I said, you can't dish it or take it so I have to use special moves."

"They still haven't worked." The quick beating of her heart and shaking of her hands informed her that that was a lie. Every time he replied to her tweets, the painful grin on her face proved it was a big, fat lie. Maybe she was a little impressed at his "special moves" but she wasn't going to ever admit that to him.

"Whatever, you liar. Anyway, we were thinking of renting a cabin on a lake or something like that for everyone to stay in."

"Oh! Yes, that sounds so fun! I love lake houses so much."

"Good. I'm gonna talk to George and the other brits and see if that's doable. It's gonna happen. I promise. I'm tired of not seeing my friends."

"Wait, how many people are you guys thinking? I'm still nervous about showing people my face..."

"It's a rough list but basically Sapnap, George, Quackity, Karl, Wilbur, Niki, um, Tubbo, Tommy, who else.... I think that's it right now. We'll make sure you know them and are comfortable with them so you don't feel pressured to show strangers who you are."

She nodded to herself. "Okay. I could also just not come if I'm not comfortable with someone—"

"What?!" he asked loudly, genuinely surprised. "Wha— no. We just wouldn't invite them."

"But—"

"I'd way rather have you there than anyone else. Hell, I'd kick George or Sapnap out if you didn't want to show them your face."

"Wait, really?"

"No pressure but I really want you to come and I want to make sure your comfortable."

"What if I don't want to show you my face?"

There was a long pause and Y/n knew he was trying to control his voice so she didn't know he was disappointed or slightly offended. "I mean... I don't know. I guess I... wouldn't go."

Her heart cracked at the sadness in his voice.

"I really don't want you to be pressured into—"

"Dream," she said. "It's okay. I'm probably most comfortable with meeting you over anyone else."

"Really?"

She didn't trust her voice not to sound too sappy and giddy. She didn't trust it a lot when she was around Dream. "Mhm."

"I'm glad," he said happily but softly. "It will be fun. Also, give me your phone number."

"So forward of you, Dream."

"Shut up, I wanna make a group chat."

Y/n laughed and told him her number. "I'm really excited now, Dream! I haven't hung out with people in so long and it sounds like a fun little vacation."

Dream laughed at her excitement. "I just want to hug the shit out of George."

It was Y/n's turn to laugh loudly. "Have you met him in real life yet?"

"No."

"I doubt he'll even let you touch him. He doesn't seem touchy."

"I don't think he is but I don't care. I am very touchy so he won't have a choice but to hug me."

"Ugh, another touchy person. Gross."

"Are you not?"

"Not really. Karl is the touchiest person I have ever met so he's kinda rubbed off on me a little over the years I think, but in general no."

"Oh, yeah, he's already threatened to kiss all of us as soon as we meet," Dream said with a laugh.

"Best to just let it happen. He pouted earlier because I wiped my cheek after he kissed it."

"That doesn't sound like something someone who can flirt would do."

"Because I'm not flirting with Karl!" Y/n groaned but a laugh was behind her words. "What is with you guys?"

"You just can't be on Karl and my level of flirting if we don't see it! Can't be in the gang if you don't show us your skill."

"Just you wait, Dream. You'll see."

"Wait, what about our Minecraft date?"

"What about it?"

"When we do that, you have to flirt with me!"

"No, I don't," she protested with a loud laugh.

"Um, I'm pretty sure it's very rude to not sweet-talk your date. You have to flirt with me then."

Y/n giggled. "Oh yeah? And what if I don't?" She hadn't meant for her voice to come out laced with something suggestive, but if Dream noticed, he thankfully didn't show it.

"Well, we'll just have to keep going on dates until you do."

"Pretty sure forcing someone on dates is illegal, buddy."

Dream laughed. "You agreed to it!!"

"I agreed to the first one," she corrected. "I agreed to one date in exchange for you letting Karl tour me around your server. One."

"Don't worry." Unlike Y/n's, Dream's voice was purposefully laced with something suggestive as he told her, "after our date, it won't take much for you to agree to more."

"Oh whatever," she scoffed, trying to cool her face down with her icy hands. Even they were no match for the heat on her cheeks. "When are we doing this stupid thing anyway?"

"Ah, the smooth talking has begun, I see."

"Dreeeamm..." she whined, growing increasingly tired of the butterflies in her stomach. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous around him? It's not sudden, she told herself.

Dream's cute laugh interrupted her thoughts. "What about tomorrow?"

"I'm streaming Among Us tomorrow."

He groaned. "You never make time for me."

"I cannot stand you," she joked, laughs slipping through her annoyed voice and blowing her cover. "You're the one who said you were too busy to join my lobby. So really you don't make time for me."

"No, no, no," he protested. "I'd make time for one-on-one time with you, just not a game where I hardly get to talk to you."

"Oh my gosh." She rolled her eyes. "How did you turn this around to sound cute again."

"Aw, Bug, you think I'm cute?"

"You ruined it by asking. What are you doing tomorrow anyway?"

"I have to finish a plug-in by tomorrow night so George and I can test it. There's still a lot to fix so it'll probably will take all day."

"Oooh," she cooed. "What's it do?"

"It changes the world every time we take damage," he explained with a hint of pride in his voice.

"What the! That sounds awesome!"

"Thanks," he said shyly, proudness gone now that he was being complimented. "Anyway, George is really busy next week so we have to test it tomorrow night so we can record the next day."

"You probably should finish it then."

"Or you could cancel your stream and we could go on a date."

"Dream!" She laughed. "No! How about next week. Between you editing the video you record, we go on a Minecraft date. How's Thursday?"

"I guess I could fit you into my schedule..."

"I hate you."

His cheeky grin could be heard through his stupid words. "Keep telling yourself that."

PREVIOUS | NEXT

A/N: *sniff* *sniff* yall smell a hater in those twitter screenshots?? hmmm..... 

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[kaz11283]

Love Never Wins

Summary: Words will be said but do you really think either one of you mean them. Sometimes actions speak louder.

Warnings: slight angst

Characters: Loki, Thor, Y/n, Clint, avengers in the background here and there

Loki x you, Thor x you (platonic), Clint x you (brother,sister)

ANNOUNCEMENT: Not going to lie. This was going to be a simple short sweet straight to the point drabble but it turned into such a looooong one shot (i guess) I was in a good head space wgile writing this and just couldnt stop really. But it is something that I am very proud of.

ANNOUNCEMENT 2: I've had to make this a simple 2 part. I got way to carried away with everything in it!

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's going on with you?" You yelled as you grabbed Loki by the arm pulling him away from the girl who was obviously flirting with him and he with her.

"What are you talking about? We were talking." He yelled back.

"You were flirting Loki in front of everyone! Openly! Don't play me for the fool you think I am. You've been off lately. Not around as much, zoning out when we finally have some time together. If there's something you want to say tell me now." You felt the tears rush to your eyes. You had seen all the signs, hell you were an expert at the signs. Multiple boyfriends had given you the signs before but for some reason you though that maybe, just maybe, he was diffrent.

"I just feel like we've grown apart in the last few months y/n. I don't think I can do this anymore." he said simply.

"You said I brought out the best side of you, that I was the love of your life." You said tears streaming down your face now, to hell with the makeup you was wearing you wasn't going back to the party anyways.

"You're not." He stated simply clenching his jaw.

"Ok fine. It's not the first time I've been broken up with. Just the first time that I had ever put so much into someone that I truly did see a future with just to have my heart completely ripped out in front of me. You got me good this time trickster. Don't think I'll be able to fully recover from this one." You spat back at him before turning to head up stairs to your room that the two of you had shared for so long.

Luckily Tony hadn't done anything to the room you had once occupied on a lower level of the tower so you easily moved all of your clothing back into there in a matter of no time. You weren't use to the feeling of being alone but thats all you wanted right now for the rest of your life. The god of tricks had ruined other men for you, he had once shown you love like you had never felt, and now your heart broke like it had never broke before.

"Hey sis, noticed you weren't- oh god what did he do?" Clint asked walking into your room. "Knew something was up. I could feel it."

"Hawk stop with the twin shit, its creepy." You huffed whipping your eyes on the back your long sleeve hoodie.

"What happened? All I know is you two disappeared, he came back, you didn't, and he said I should probably find you in your old room." He sat down next to you.

"We broke up. Easy as that. Ya know I never understood why they say not to date your co workers till today." You shrugged turning to him. "When we first got together you hated it-"

"To be fair he did brainwash me."

"I didn't say you didn't have a right. We kept it from you for a while though. But we hadn't been together long, Hawk, I thought he was diffrent from any man I ever dated-"

"Well he is a god, kinda different."

"Would you shut up so I can vent just for a little bit then you can go back to the party."

"Na, parties lame anyways, I was thinking about hanging out here for a little bit." He said kicking his shoes off and proping his feet on the coffee table throwing his arms across the back of the couch.

"Whatever," you rolled your eyes as you snuggled into your brother. "He was so kind, gentle, he was paciant with me. He knew that me and you were close and he didnt wamt to get in the way of that. He wanted us to be closer than he and Thor was. I think it helped him realize just how important family is when you only have each other. We kept it a secret for so long though." You pulled the hood up closer to your face. You didn't want to admit to yourself but you had kept the jacket because it still smelled like him.

"Nat seen the two of you making out in the hall weeks before you told anyone by the way." He laughed pulling you closer to him. " I didnt say anything though because I knew you would tell me when you were comfortable with it."

"I love him so much and he played me. Completely tricked me into these feelings that I dont think will ever change." You sobbed wrapping your arms around his waist, he through his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer.

"Hes a dick with a god complex. Hes not good enough for you at all. Coming from a brother, a twin brothers point of view, I think you could do better. All is fair in love and war, but dont put it past me to be a little rougher on him during training, and I wont point anything out if you happen to let some bad guy kill him on the field." He said kissing the top of your head.

"Hawk, you know I'm not like that. I habe a reputation to up hold." You said slapping his arm before pulling away. "If you wanna stay theres still some of your sweats that I stole in the bedroom and ice cream in the freezer, but your sleeping on the couch. Its been since we were kids that we shared a bed but I bet you still kick."

~~~~

A few weeks had passed since you and Loki had called it quites. You had been mainly staying in your room trying not to cause any uncomfortable silence if you and Loki wede in the same room. On one occasion when you had ventured out to the living room you seen Loki holding an icepack to his eye and a busted lip, your first instinct was to rush over and make sure he was ok but instead you turned and took a seat between Thor and Clint.

"Lady Y/n, as always your peresnts lights up the room. We just havent been seeing much of it as of late." Thor greeted you with a warm smile throwing his huge arm ober your shoulder, making you look smaller than you already was.

"No more gods." Clint mumbled beside you.

"Thor is just a friend. One of the best I have." You laughed. "What happened?" Nodding toward Loki.

"Payback." He shrugged.

"Ah yes, it turns out Loki is not very good at hand to hand combat unles he is able to use his magic." Thor laughed. "I always tried to get him to train with me but he never did, turns out he probably should have."

"Oh for god sakes I'm right here and you three are not really whispering. I shouldn't have to learn hand to hand combat I have my sedair! I'm assuming it was just your brothers idea so that he could get back at me." He yelled.

"And you forget that there could come a time when you might need hand to hand. I told you many times that you needed to train but no mister 'I'm Loki prince of Asguard, burdened with glorious purpose', mister I have my magic. Bullshit. Your just sour because a mear mortal bested you at something. Grow a pair and learn how to actually fight." You jumped up. You had finally snapped. It had been coming tough sitting in you waiting for the right, or wrong, time to show up.

"You watch your tone!" He shouted jumping up. "I know how to fight better than half the people in here." Clint and Thor slowly stood watching the scene in front of them neither one know what to do.

"You know how to use your pixie dust to make things happen! Well guess what tinker bell this aint Neverland. We get in weird predicaments all the time you never know what to expect." You yelled back. "Hell Loki, your probably so bad at hand to hand even I could beat you."

"Oh your on. Training room, 30mins. That is unless your scared?" He said giving you a mischievous smirk.

"Trust and believe I'm not afraid of you by any means. No weponds, no sedair strictly hand to hand." You said turning on your heel to walk to your room to get ready leaving Clint and Thor standing alone in the living room aww struck.

"So what do we do?" Clint finally asked.

"Well of course we have to stop this. It will not end very well." Thor answered.

"So tell the others?"

"Yes you tell the others I will get refreshments for the battle." They took off in seprate directions.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Nowhere to Run by  GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s

The song referenced in this chapter is “We are Glass” by Thompson Square. You can hear the song here:

It’s a beautiful song and I felt it really summed up the characters in this story.

Chapter 10: We are Glass

Killian spent the next couple of weeks recovering in the hospital. He asked Robin to stay at his place to keep an eye on Emma and Henry, yet Emma spent most of her time next to his bed side when she wasn’t sitting in the corner of the room with Henry on her lap, teaching him his school lessons.

She told him how she had been teaching Henry everything she could while they were on the run. He could read and write, knew his arithmetic, and was an excellent artist. He found that even when he was tired, he would spend his time watching the two with reverence. Emma was a patient mother, but Henry was also an exceptional child.

“Did it hurt when you got shot?” The boy mused as he sat on the end of his bed, peeking up from between the cards in his hands.

“Aye. I would say it was pretty painful. Go fish, by the way.” He paused. “But the pain was replaced quickly by a sense of numbness, I guess, so I didn’t feel it long.” He stretched restlessly, looking down at his cards. “Have any 3’s?”

The boy narrowed his eyes, looking through his cards. “Go fish.” He smirked. “Do you think my dad is going to get out of prison and come after us again?”

Killian placed his cards against his chest. “I don’t think so lad. He’s going to have a trial. He has that right. The state will present its evidence, and he’ll face any consequences that he’s found guilty of. But you don’t have to worry, Henry. Even if he does get out, he’ll never get near you or your mom again.”

“But what about you? Who’s going to protect you?”

“Well, I’ve got Captain Nolan, and my partner Robin. Will and Belle…”

“And mom and me.” He said proudly.

Killian’s heart swelled. “You’d protect me? I’m honored.”

“Is Rogers ok?” His nose scrunched in worry.

“He’s staying with Will. He’s not a young pup anymore, so the old boy needed a lot of help getting better. But when they finally let me out of here, he’s gonna come back and live with me.”

“Will me and mom live with you?”

Killian swallowed nervously. He and Emma hadn’t talked about the future yet. There was still so much for them to resolve. Ten years was a long time to be apart, especially when the last time they had seen each other they were not in a good place.

“Your mom and I have a lot to talk about still.”

“Are you really married to my mom?” Continuing his barrage of questions.

He sighed. “Aye.”

“That must have been weird having her gone for ten years then. I bet you missed her.”

“More than all the stars in the world.”

“She used to tell me stories about you.” The boy said, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Did she now?” He mused.

“Sometimes you were a cop fighting bad guys, other times you were a swashbuckling pirate searching for treasure, and sometimes you were a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy sailing off on a ship to save the princess. Mom tells the best stories, but they were always about you.”

Killian’s eyes glassed over, bending his head to reach up and swipe at his face. “Your mother has quite the imagination, but I’m happy to be able to oblige for your entertainment.”

“Who’s hungry?” Emma’s voice filled the room as she came carrying a tray of food and drinks. “The doc says you are off your diet.”

Killian groaned happily as she sat the hamburger down on the tray in front of him. The first real food he would get to eat in weeks. He bit into the burger immediately, moaning loudly as soon as he tasted the meat on his tongue. Emma was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape. “Wut?” He said between chews.

“Nothing.” She said with an embarrassing glance away from him, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. At least he still had some sort of effect on her, he thought.

“How did the call with Liam go?” She sat down in the chair next to him, pulling a grilled cheese sandwich into her hands.

“He was happy to hear that Neal is behind bars. He’s going to come visit soon when the girls are on holiday. He wanted me to tell you how gutted he was knowing everything you’ve been through.”

She shrugged, something she did often when he mentioned her past with Neal. “It will be nice to see him again. The girls must be so big now.”

“Aye. Twelve and sixteen now. He has his hands full for sure.”

She took a bite of her sandwich, watching Henry coloring at the end of Killian’s bed. “He’s not bothering you is he?”

“We were just playing a game of Go Fish. I think he cheats.” He whispered loudly, earning a complaint from Henry. Emma let out a pleasant laugh, something he was happy to earn from her.

“Doctor says you might get out of here tomorrow.”

“That’s my hope as well. I can’t wait to see Rogers.”

“I’m glad he’s alright. The old boy’s a survivor.” Emma mused.

“Aye, that he is.”

“I made an appointment for Henry and I to go see Dr. Hopper next week.” She said with a sad smile. “Figured I might need to talk through some things before we have to face Neal again at trial.”

“Hop’s a good man.”

“You know him?”

“Aye.” He nodded, not wanting to get into the fact that he knew him because he had been his patient, after Emma had left, when the world crumbled at his feet.

“I’ve been looking for a place to stay once you get released from the hospital. I know you’re going to need your bed to recover.”

Killian bit his lip. He knew they needed to discuss this. He didn’t want her to leave, but he also knew that they had a lot to work through if they were going to ever find their way back to each other. If she still wanted that.

“I can talk to Will. He had a vacancy across the hall from him a couple of weeks ago.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

“Emma…”

“Hey there.” Killian stared at Emma’s face as David entered the room. “How ya feeling?” He turned, facing his boss.

“Doing great, going home tomorrow, I’ll be back on the streets before you know it.” He grinned cheekily.

“Yeah you’re taking some time off, buddy.”

“What?” He complained.

“Take a vacation, Killian. You’ve earned some time off. Robins got your cases locked down right now.”

“Cap, I’m fine.”

“It’s an order, Detective.” He walked over to Emma and smiled, she suddenly reached up and wrapped him into a hug.

“You look better.” He said softly.

“I feel better, I feel like I’ve gained ten pounds just eating three meals a day.” She chuckled, but both David and Killian glanced uncomfortably at each other.

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m fine.” She glared. “I don’t want you treating me any differently than you did when we were at the academy.” She winked up at David, “Still top of my class, sir.”

“It’s good to have you back Emma.” David smiled with a genuine air of happiness.

Three months later

Emma picked the shirt off the floor in Henry’s room, tossing it into the hamper. “Did you remember to pack a toothbrush?” The boy appeared from behind the doorway, poking his head into the room.

“Yup. It’s in the front pocket of my duffle.” He disappeared again and then reappeared. “Are you gonna be ok with this?”

Emma smiled at him. “Of course, I am, why would you ask that?”

“Cuz this is my first sleepover away from you that isn’t over at Killian’s.”

“I’ll be fine, Henry. I actually have plans tonight.”

He moved quickly into the room. “What kind of plans?”

She sat down on the bed. “I kinda have a date tonight.”

“Does Killian know?” He asked with a shocked look of disgust on his face.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you left.” He sat down next to her. “My date is with Killian.”

He jumped up from the bed and pumped his arms in the air. “Yes.”

Emma laughed. “Does that mean you’re ok with this?”

“Of course, I am. Killian’s the best. He even lets me stay up until 11pm when I stay over at his place.”

“Well, I’ll have to talk to him about that, but I’m glad you like him.” She wrapped her arms around Henry’s waist and hugged him tightly. “I love you, buddy. I hope you have fun tonight. And if you need me at all, you know you can call me.” She tousled his hair and kissed his cheek.

There was a knock on the door and Henry pushed away from her. “Gotta go, love you mom.”

Emma looked around Henry’s room, pictures he had drawn hanging on the wall. Her favorite one was hanging above the bed. It was of her, Henry, Killian, and Rogers playing at the park.

As difficult as returning home had been, they had settled into a pretty simple life. Emma and Henry had moved into their own apartment in Will’s complex. It was nice to have a friendly face around now and then when she found herself getting anxious on nights when Henry was sleeping over at Killian’s or when she would wake from a terrifying dream.

Will was always gracious no matter the time she found herself standing in front of his door with a bottle of rum in her hands. He would always sit up with her and listen to her talk about the first thing that came to her mind, something Dr. Hopper had suggested she try to take her mind off her nightmares. She didn’t know when it happened but before she knew it, he had become one of her closest friends.

And then there was Killian.

She wasn’t surprised that Henry had latched onto him so quickly. Killian was great with him, always patient, always offering to assist him with whatever the boy required. Which was often a lot as he was a growing boy who was adjusting to the freedom of being able to go outside and roam. Killian made sure he found new foods for him to try, adventures to experience, even new clothes to wear on his first day at a real school. Watching him with her son, the joy on his face, had her falling in love with him all over again. Of course, she hadn’t told him that. She was nervous about moving too quickly with him. Dr. Hopper told her that was normal. She had experienced a trauma and loss that not many people would cope with.

In her last session, she told her therapist that she wanted to try again with Killian. She had spent the last three months trying to figure out what her life would become now that she was home. She needed to learn who Emma was before she could deal with being Mrs. Jones again.

Killian had presented her with their divorce papers, gave her the choice to sign them and start her life fresh. She put it off, telling him that she needed some time to think before she made any big decisions in her life. He was patient and told her he understood but Emma knew that if he had his way, he would rip them to shreds.

Emma was volunteering at a small clinic that Mary Margaret worked at on the weekends, talking to victims of domestic abuse and rape. Currently she was taking it slow, still not understanding her own trauma that she had endured enough to feel like she had all the answers, but just being there with them to let them know they weren’t alone, and that someone understood what they had gone through. It was freeing to Emma to be able to own her story, to not feel ashamed anymore.

Dr. Hopper told her that was a form of acceptance. Owning what happened to you, claiming it as your story. She would never be over what Neal had done to her, stealing her dignity, laying waste to her self-esteem. But she refused to be defined by it. She didn’t want to be Emma Swan, rape victim. She was Emma Jones, survivor.

Today was going to be another step in her journey. Killian was taking her on a date. She remembered his face as they were eating lunch, a short break during his shift.

“We should go out.” She said nonchalantly between bites.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe, but I have to ask you a few questions first.” He raised his eyebrow, leaning forward for her to continue.

“Ask away.”

“I need to know if you ok going on a date with someone who is probably always going to be a little bit damaged.”

He shrugged, “Aren’t we all? I like to think I can absorb a little damage.”

“Ok then, last thing…” She grinned. “You gotta like kids or it’s a deal breaker.”

He laughed loudly, “Aye, I adore Henry.” He shrugged, “So, do I win a date with the beautiful woman who currently has a mayonnaise mustache?” He reached out, wiping the offending condiment from her lip, eliciting shockwaves through her body.

That was the moment she knew she was ready. She had felt excitement from his touch instead of withdrawing the moment he made contact.

He had insisted on being the one to plan the date, as much as she was sure she could still plan a night out, she had to admit that it took some of the pressure off. He wouldn’t tell her where they were going, only that it was somewhere she had been asking to go for a while and he felt she had earned it. Whatever that meant.

She slipped into the pink dress, pulling the straps over her shoulders. Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. She looked feminine, happy, with a glint of hope in her eyes. The tears slipped onto her cheek; Neal had not stolen everything from her.

There was a knock on her door, a smile crept on her face. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and centering her mind. She was taking control of her life tonight.

Opening the door, she couldn’t control the shiver she felt when she saw him come into view. The man she fell in love with so many years ago was standing in front of her. Sure, he was older, the hint of grey kissing his hair, fine lines around his eyes, but he was even more gorgeous today than she remembered him all those years ago. This was the man who was willing to give up his life for her, loved her enough to save her, even if it meant he couldn’t have her.

“You look…”

“I know.” She giggled, accepting the rose he passed toward her. Her nose inhaled the fragrance of the flower, eyes glancing down his frame, the anticipation of the rest of their evening taking her to new heights.

“Shall we?”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Patience is a virtue, love.” He winked.

She rolled her eyes but followed him out to his car. They drove in silence, her hands folded in her lap. The soft sounds of the radio playing through the car.

Trying to live and love,

With a heart that can't be broken,

Is like trying to see the light with eyes that can't be opened.

Yeah, we both carry baggage,

We picked up on our way, so if you love me do it gently,

And I will do the same.

Emma felt the tears sting her eyes. The lyrics breaking into her heart as she chanced a glance at the man sitting beside her, his eyes focused on the road, his jaw tensed, that familiar vein popping from the side of his neck. He never forgot her in all the time she had been gone. She knew how he felt about her. The way he loved her. He’d been so patient with her these last few months. Not pushing her either out the door or into his heart.

We may shine, we may shatter,

We may be picking up the pieces here on after,

We are fragile, we are human,

We are shaped by the light we let through us,

We break fast, cause we are glass.

'Cause we are glass.

He turned toward her, a smile ghosting on his lips that held onto hope. When she walked out the door ten years ago, she knew she still loved him, that she would always love the man who had risked everything for her. Now she knew that back then, before everything went to hell, she was being stubborn walking away, letting her fear of the unknown hold her captive.

I'll let you look inside me, through the stains and through the cracks,

And in the darkness of this moment,

You see the good and bad.

But try not to judge me, 'cause we've walked down different paths,

But it brought us here together, so I won't take that back.

She exhaled, a stray tear slipping against her cheek. She let it fall, not afraid of her emotions anymore. She had been stubborn; she should have known that they would have made anything work. Instead, she walked away and ended up in a hell she couldn’t control.

We might be oil and water, this could be a big mistake,

We might burn like gasoline and fire,

It's a chance we'll have to take.

Emma was ready to let go of all of that. To let go of the ten years she had been robbed of, to forget all the stubborn and foolish decisions that had gotten them to this moment. She wanted to reclaim her life. She wanted to take back what was owed to her.

We are glass.

The song referenced in this chapter is “We are Glass” by Thompson Square. You can hear the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPd1GIwjRFMIt’s a beautiful song and I felt it really summed up the characters in this story.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Jimin

Jimin never falls in love. Not now, not ever. Especially now that the messy breakup with his most recent ex is over-it’s nothing but parties, blue skies, and freedom in his foreseeable future-just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets you by pure happenstance. And suddenly, he’s pretty sure he’s falling. The only problem? You know his ex. And it’s complicated. 

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Fluff, Park Jimin, Jimin, Jimin x you, Jimin x reader, BTS x you, BTS x reader, college au, boyfriend au, Playboy!Jimin

Genre: Fluff

Soundtrack: My Ex’s Best Friend by Machine Gun Kelly

Title: Can’t Get Enough of It

Jimin downs the rest of his drink, crinkling the plastic red solo cup easily in his fist, the sound muted underneath the harsh bass of the music that is pounding through the frat house in tempo with the strobe lights reflecting off the walls. 

“Hey! Jiminie!” 

Jimin rolls his eyes good naturedly, as Jungkook plops down onto the couch beside him, jostling him slightly, a giggling girl crowding in next to him, as they tipsily situate themselves on the couch. 

Jungkook slings his arm around Jimin’s shoulders, and not realizing how loud he is speaking in his slightly drunken state, yells into his ear above the music, “Have you met Rosie yet?” He pulls on the girls hand, and she falls ungracefully into his lap, laughing giddily and looking up at Jimin with large, doe eyes, covered partially by long pink hair. “Rosie, Jimin. Jimin, Rosie.” 

“Hey.” Jimin flashes her a grin, and she blushes, even though Jungkook is watching both of them, burying her face hurriedly in her boyfriend’s side. 

Jimin is not surprised. Girls fall at his feet. It’s nothing new. 

Smirking to himself, he throws his discarded plastic cup onto the floor, and patting the drunk Jungkook on the shoulder, leans into him, saying in his ear, “Imma hit up the beer pong. Don’t get too crazy without me.” He stands, and winking down at the still giggling, and blushing, Rosie, he raises a brow at the duo and says smugly, “If you’re gonna need another partner, come and find me.” 

Leaving the couch, Jimin weaves his way between the grinding flush of bodies in the living room, high fiving a few other fraternity members, and slapping a couple of girl’s asses, on his way to the stairs that lead to the basement and the game room below. 

It is quieter down here, the bass of the music slightly muted through the floors, but not by much. 

“Damn!” One of the guys huddled around the large ping pong table roars out, throwing his fists into the air and crowing triumphantly, “A perfect shot! Drink up, bitches!” 

“Tae.” Jimin comes up beside him, as everyone swigs the dark liquids in the red cups on the table. He glances at the present company, and realizes he knows pretty much everyone here. “You win again?” 

“I’m winning.” Taehyung flashes him a large, boxy grin, and takes another gulp of his own drink, before he claps Jimin on the shoulder. “Oh, that reminds me.” 

Taehyung glances around, and then waves someone over through the crowd. 

Jimin recognizes the girl that Taehyung has been hooking up with consistently for the last several weeks, and offers her a slight smirk, as she approaches them, lacing her hand through Taehyung. “Ah, yeah. I think we’ve met once. Jennie right?” 

The girl nods, tossing a dark ponytail over her shoulder, and Jimin likes the fact that she seems to be confident, as she looks him in the eye and replies easily, “Yeah. That’s right.” 

“Jennie brought a friend tonight.” Taehyung licks his lips and glances at Jimin, motioning with his head and clearly shooting him a look that says sleep with said friend or I will, even though his arm is snugly slung around Jennie’s shoulders. “Let us introduce you.” 

“Oh, I know who he is.” 

Jimin’s first thought when you step up beside the couple and he sees you is holy shit, she’s hot. 

Followed quickly by the second thought-Shit, I’ve seen her before, and she doesn’t look too pleased to see me.  

He watches as you fold your arms over your chest, red solo cup held daintily in the long fingers of one hand, and shoot him a look up and down. Jimin knows he is attractive-hell he knows how it feels to have every girl in the room looking at him-but somehow, your gaze doesn’t quite convey the feeling of admiration he’s used to receiving. 

“You guys know each other?” Jennie asks, a slight question in her tone, as Taehyung looks nervously between the two of you. 

“No.” You say firmly, shaking your head, and Jimin can’t help but notice the way your earrings dangle in the strobe lights overhead. “We don’t know each other. I’ve just heard of him.” 

“You know Lisa.” Jimin finally manages to say, after feeling like he’s been staring at you for ages in silence. “Right?” 

A smirk curls up the corner of your lips, and you flash him an almost amused look, as you take another swig from your drink. “We’re acquaintances. But trust me, Park Jimin, I’ve heard all about you.” 

There is something about the way your red lips form a perfect bow around the lip of your cup that has Jimin wanting-no, needing-to know more.

Reaching up to rake a hand through blonde hair, he swallows, and then grinning at Taehyung and Jennie, leans forward to take you forcibly by the arm, even though subtly fight it, tensing beneath his grip. “Well, looks like we have some catching up to do. Talk to you guys later.” 

“What are you doing?” You hiss out, heard only by him under the hum of the party, as he drags you toward an empty sofa in a darkened corner. 

Jimin plops down amongst the worn cushions, pulling you unceremoniously down beside him, before he shoots you an amused glance. He can’t help it-the way your lips are pulled down into a stern frown, and the way your eyes are sparkling with flames as you shoot him a glare-has him feeling some weird way in the pit of his stomach. 

You are something else. 

“Tell me-” Jimin begins, glancing up and quieting as several noisy and drunk couples stagger their way by your couch. He refocuses, slinging his arm across the back of the couch behind your head, as he angles his body to face you, knees almost touching. “What was your name again?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes. “(Y/N).” 

“Pleasure.” He flashes you a grin-a grin that normally has the girls swooning-though it seems to take no effect on you. And Jimin likes that. 

“Not mine.” You retort back, taking another gulp from your cup, as your eyes scan the party, and Jimin notes, briefly, that you seem stiff, as if you’re trying not to accidentally touch him. 

This just makes him want to touch and dig and explore you even deeper than he had moments before. 

It only propels him forward-the odd need swirling in his belly igniting into a flaming fire of possession. 

“First off-” Jimin leans toward you, lowering his voice, and the corner of his lip rises in a smug smirk, as you lock gazes with him, and he can’t help but notice, being this close to you, how your lips are parted, as if you’re waiting for him to say something. “I’m not sorry.” He arches a brow at you, and lets his fingers that are dangling over your shoulder trace the outline of your bra strap beneath the thin material of the sweater you wear-an oddly simple gesture that suddenly has him aching with need. 

You arch a brow in return, and your lips gap even more, before you ask curiously, “Sorry for what? Being a douche who sleeps with anything that moves?” 

“Aha.” Jimin barks out a laugh, and he can’t help it, as his gaze drifts down the angles of your face to your lips. Something about you makes him oddly unfocused. “Funny. But I won’t apologize.” 

“For being a dick?” You push onward, scoffing slightly, as you break his gaze, and swallow down the last of your drink. 

“For trying to get to know you.” Jimin winks at you, and takes your empty solo cup, as you roll your eyes at his behavior. “Now. We’re both way too sober for this. Let’s get some more drinks.” 

******

“That is not what happened.” 

Jimin doesn’t know if it’s the copious amounts of alcohol in his veins or if being with you makes him feel warmer, but he’s hot and flushed as he stumbles after you into the elevator, his voice louder than it needs to be in the quiet, slumbering atmosphere of the student apartment complex. 

“Oh really?” You squint at him, and shove a finger into his face, as he clumsily reaches to push the button to close the doors. “Lisa told my roommate all about it. And you were a complete asshole.” 

“No. No.” Jimin waves at you, or the slightly blurry outline of you, as you press pass him to push the button for your floor, and the smell of your perfume-floral and light and feminine-tickles his nose, and the warmth of your body pressed to his is enough to send him reeling, as if he’s had way more alcohol than he actually has. “Lisa likes to be dramatic.” 

“So you’re telling me-” You stumble as the elevator sways into motion, and Jimin reaches out to steady you, although you shove his hand away. “Lisa lied about you sleeping with all those other girls?” 

“Well, no.” Jimin admits, and his words slur together slightly, as he leans up against the wall beside you for support, the railing cold against his back. 

“Aha!” You exclaim triumphantly, and the way your cheeks are red and the way your nose scrunches as you whirl to face him, has Jimin feeling like his heart is going to pound right out of his chest. “So you were a dick!” 

“Okay, okay. I was a dick.” Jimin gives up, and you huff back against the wall beside him, as the elevator continues to tick its way upward. 

It is silent for several moments, the two of you swaying unsteadily on your feet from the night of partying, and then Jimin-emboldened by the alcohol or something else-pushes himself off the wall and comes to stand in front of you. 

“(Y/N)-” He begins to say, as the elevator sways harder than before, and he stumbles toward you, catching himself from falling into you with his palms against the wall on either side of your head. He glances down at you-your upturned nose, your cherry cheeks, and those damn, perfect lips-and suddenly, he doesn’t know what he was going to say. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You berate, your words running together, as you push weakly at his chest. “Stop.” 

“Like what?” Jimin asks, suddenly bewildered, the alcohol muddling his senses and his thought process. 

“Like you want to kiss me.” You state plainly, and at your words, Jimin feels as if he’s dizzy, and not just from the drinks. 

“Like I want to kiss you?” He repeats softly, as if he didn’t hear your words the first time, and something inside his chest responds to those words, his heart beating loudly against his rib cage. 

“Yeah.” You nod, and your voice is soft, and suddenly, Jimin is very aware just how close he is standing to you in the empty elevator. “Like you want to kiss me.” 

The sound of the elevator beeping-letting you know you have reached your floor-jerks Jimin out of his trance, and before he can think about what he’s doing, he’s hitting the emergency button on the side of the wall blindly with his palm, and the elevator jerks to a halt, the doors locked in place. 

“Did you just stop the elevator?” You ask in confusion, and your words are muddled, but the way you look at him has never been clearer. 

“Yes.” He nods, and he feels heady, and brave, and right. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

Your brow creases in confusion, and your lips part in that way that drives Jimin mad, and he can smell the sweet scent of alcohol on your breath, as you ask curiously, “Like what?” 

“Like you want to kiss me.” He repeats your words from earlier, and your pupils widen against the color of your irises, and Jimin feels his gaze drawn once more down the features of your face and to your mouth. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he stares at you. Shit, he can’t stop staring at you. 

“I can’t.” You breathe out, and Jimin doesn’t think he’s heard you right, because he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. 

“You can’t what?” He inquires, and his head suddenly feels much clearer than it did before, not muddled with alcohol, as his fingers on the wall beside your head tap impatiently, wanting to tangle themselves into your hair. 

“Stop looking at you like that.” You reply simply, and the corners of those perfect lips curve upward into the start of a grin. “Because I do want to kiss you.” 

Jimin still isn’t sure that he’s heard you right. 

The dizzy feeling is back, and the smell of your perfume is strong in his nose, and his fingers-dammit, his fingers-are itching like crazy wanting to touch your skin, to feel your softness beneath their tips. And don’t even get him started on your mouth-those beautiful, pink, full lips with their parted entrance, practically begging him to make them his. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the freeing influence of the alcohol-or his own intense need-that he has to thank for what he does next, but Jimin is suddenly crashing his mouth into yours, his body pinning you back against the wall of the elevator, his hands and fingers finally getting to feel the soft silkiness of your hair beneath their touch. 

Your lips-the lips he has been admiring all night-are soft and pliable beneath his own, and you taste like chapstick and the drinks you have been downing all night and the intoxicating, heady flavor of something new. 

Your arms wind around Jimin’s neck, and your fingers go into his hair, and the feel of your body-warm and soft-against his own, makes him feel as if he’s drunk all over again. 

Your teeth nip his bottom lip, pulling at the plush skin, and Jimin feels need and hunger surge inside of him, and he can’t stop himself from groaning into your mouth. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the fact that it’s you, but something about this is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. 

And like the warm feeling of alcohol making him forget all his worries, he wants more. 

“Jimin.” You whine out beneath your breath, as he tugs your head back and runs his tongue down the column of your throat. He glances up at you and meets your dark gaze, and the way you’re trying to catch your breath between your lips does something insane to him. 

“Would it be wrong if I came up with you?” He asks throatily, as he releases you, suddenly feeling more sober than before, his fingers still tangled into your hair. 

You offer him the hint of a smile, and the way your lips pull up at the corners has him feeling heady all over again, and he has to stop himself from slanting his mouth over yours once more. 

You reach behind him to press the safety button, and as the elevator resumes movement, and the doors begin to open, you reach out to pull Jimin toward you by the lapels of his jacket, covering his mouth once more with your own for a brief, urgent kiss that catches him off guard, and leaves him reeling. 

You grin at him, as you stumble and push him toward the open doors of your floor. 

“Not wrong at all.” 

[willownoir1112]

Hiya everyone! Wyn here with today's White Rose Week 2021 entry, which is flirting! Now, today features a genderbent Weiss in honor of my friend CelestialPrincess, who could not participate due to scheduling conflicts, as well as for Akirou 02, who wrote one of my all time favorite fics, They're Yours Too! I hope everyone enjoys, and I will see you tomorrow with another day!

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Flirting

Ruby Rose can feel her eye twitching as the drunk white haired wolf Faunus man continues his verbal assault on all four of her tender, not innocent in the least, but still offended ear drums. It wouldn't be so bad if he was at least good at it, but even she's starting to think that it's impossible.

"Sho, you should gib me a chance, cause I'm… ummm…"

She's pretty sure he's trying to flirt. She's actually almost sure he's trying to flirt, and for the life of her she doesn't understand why! She's nothing special, just another non descript rabbit faunus stuck on an overnight layover in Mantle while trying to get home to Vale. Not for the first time since she left on this trip, she wishes she hadn't agreed to come to Atlas to meet James Ironwood on behalf of the Rose Weapons Corporation.

She especially despises being the Heiress of the company her mother, a successful huntress, founded after her retirement.

"I got it!" He grins drunkenly at her as he pounds a fist into his hand. "I'm not a dolt!"

She couldn't help it. She couldn't stop her hand from colliding with her face, then slowly dragging it's way down her fair skin in her… She's honestly not sure if it's because she's exasperated, or because her older half brother Xiang would be crying at how badly this guy can flirt. "So I should leave with you because you're not a dolt?" She asks, getting an enthusiastic nod of the head in reply.

"Not only am I not a dolt, but I'm also a virgin!" He declares in his eagerness, a goofy smile on his face. One that grows as he takes another sip of his drink, what appears to be a vodka on the rocks by the look and smell of it. And she's convinced he's had at least two too many.

"Look, I'm flattered that you want to lose your v-card to me, but I have to pass." She replies calmly, feeling her heart break a bit at the sad puppy look that comes across his face. "I'm only here for the night."

"See?" He declares as his drunken smile returns in force. "You can make a man of me, then you'll never see me again! It's a win-win!"

"Uh huh." She mumbles as she motions for the bartender to top off her own wine glass. If she's going to keep listening to this, then she might as well as go ahead and get buzzed. "What's your name?" She asks, deciding she needs to give the source of her irritation a proper name other than Drunken Wolf Idiot.

"It's Eis, and did you know you have really pretty eyes?" He adds the last wistfully as he stares into them, making her stare into his own sky blues. She has to admit, he has gorgeous eyes, and after taking a liberal sip of her wine, she has to admit he's not too bad looking. Now if only he could actually flirt.

"You're not the first person to tell me that, Eis." She replies as she offers him her hand. "I'm…" Before she can introduce herself, a second drunk with dark skin and wearing a fedora pushes him into her, making her spill her wine as well as his vodka onto her dress. "Awwww, oatmeal cookies!" She swears as she grabs a napkin and tries desperately to clean herself off.

"Hey, Eis? There you go buddy!" Fedora cries out before he begins to cackle drunkenly.

"Flynt, you dolt!" The wolf named Eis roars as he quickly turns and shoves him away. Meanwhile, giving up on getting herself cleaned up, Ruby finally makes a bad decision and simply motions for a refill. If she has to keep dealing with this crap, then she's going to be good and drunk. Besides, all her clothes are back at the airship port, which means she's going to have to find a twenty four hour laundry or something to wash said clothes while praying she doesn't get arrested for being naked in public.

So, as her Mama Raven would say, time to load up on liquid courage and then wrestle the Ursa to get your weapon back.

"Damn, I'm so sorry." Eis murmurs as he turns back around and frowns. She's pretty sure she's a mess. She can feel her soaked bra starting to stick to her skin, as well as her skirt sticking to her bare…

She really doesn't want to know if a certain part of her anatomy can get independently drunk as well. It's a constant struggle to make sure it doesn't get her into trouble as it is.

"Look, it's fine. Can you just tell me where I can go to clean up?" She asks in irritation as she grabs at the bottle of red wine and simply tilts it up, spilling the contents into her mouth and down her throat in a fashion that would have her brother and the rest of her friends cheering her on. Not for the first time, she wishes she hadn't had quite as much fun at Beacon as she did, and had taken her studies and training a bit more seriously.

Nodding, he offers her an arm. "You can get cleaned up at my place." He replies quietly, obviously a bit sobered up. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She replies firmly as she glares at him. "And… thanks." She adds the last as her gaze softens. Offering the bartender her credit card, she makes sure he bills her for one more bottle of wine. If she has to keep listening to Eis's flirting, she definitely needs the liquid courage the fermented beverage provides.

Especially since he really is cute, and she's now tempted to lose her own virginity to him as well...

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"Wow, nice place." Ruby admits as the cab pulls up to the curb of a multi level apartment complex in downtown Atlas. She has to admit, he's been a polite gentleman during the entire trip, even trying to ignore the fact that her skirt has been slowly riding up her bare bottom to reveal it as well as her constantly wagging cotton tail.

"I live here with my twin sister." He replies as he struggles to look everywhere but at her exposed rear, while she takes another deep pull of the wine bottle still in her hand. "She works for the family company, while I am a huntsman."

This gets her attention. Her dream was always to follow in her mother's footsteps, but an accident when she was on a hunt left her with permanent nerve damage to her legs. Nothing painful, but still unable to use her semblance to its full effectiveness. "I was a licensed Huntress in Vale." She admits to him quietly as he pays the driver and gets out, offering her a hand out next. "Got hurt on a hunt, and had to quit."

He smiles sadly at her as she struggles to lower her skirt back down on her bottom. "My sister lost her sword arm during her last hunt. Her body rejected the prosthesis."

"Damn." She mutters before finishing the bottle, while struggling to stay upright on legs that are quickly refusing to continue to function. But she can't help but to squeak as she suddenly gets scoop up into surprisingly powerful arms, a smiling Eis looking at her.

"See? I knew I would sweep you off your feet before the night was out." He declares as he walks towards the door, the doorman nodding as he opens it for them.

"Finally! You learned how to flirt!" She declares with a giggle as she cuddles into his chest, enjoying the movement of powerful muscles obviously hidden underneath his dress shirt.

She almost wants to see them…

"I admit, there was more liquid courage pumping through my veins than blood at the time." He replies as he carries her through the lobby and towards the elevators. "But, I do believe we have traded places now."

"Ayup. And how can a beefcake like you still be single?!" She blinks as he chuckles while shaking his head.

"Willow, my twin, doesn't help matters there." He replies as the doors open and he steps in. "She firmly believes very few women are good for me."

"She's just being a good sister then." Fuck, he smells really good. And his wolf ears are so freaking cute! "My older brother's an asshole. But you? You're so cute I could almost eat you up like a tasty snack!"

Eis chuckles as he continues to hold her securely in his arms. "And you claim I'm bad at flirting?" He asks as he looks at her with those sky blues she's rapidly getting lost in.

"I'm drunk. I'm allowed to be bad at it." She declares with a wink. And then her sensitive nose catches the scent of spoiling wine, making her frown. "I stink."

"It's not that… WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU DOLT?!" She can't help but giggle as she stops unbuttoning her blouse to look at him.

"I'm stinky." Is her simple response before she returns to unbuttoning her red and black blouse, while the doors ding. But she can't help but to laugh as the white wolf makes a mad dash down the hallway and towards one of only two doors down the entire corridor.

Setting her down on her feet, she keeps laughing as he pats his pockets, obviously looking for a key or a scroll. Meanwhile, she finishes unbuttoning her blouse and slips out of it. And the look on his face as she stands there in just her bra, skirt, and heels, her blouse in her hands is absolutely priceless.

She can feel the warmth starting in her core. A warmth that won't be denied…

They barely get through the door before her lips are against his, while her hands work at unbuckling his belt. It's been a long twenty five years of chaste virginity, and her frustration is at a boiling point. She can feel her tail wagging so quickly it almost feels like it's going to fall off or go flying off, but she doesn't care. She's still fairly young, far from home, and he did present an excellent argument in that they'll never see each other again after tonight.

Ruby Rose is moaning within seconds. She is soon screaming within minutes. And Eis is full of shit if he's still a virgin in her eyes after bringing her to her first real orgasm ever. The first of many. But neither the rabbit faunus or the wolf faunus realize that she had moved a little bit too quickly, neither of them even considering using any kind of protection whatsoever...

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Eis Schnee awakens with a start, clutching his head and groaning in his discomfort. After agreeing to go out with his partner, Flynt Coal, to a local pub popular with travelers simply passing through, he soon found himself drunk and flirting with…

All he can remember is her brilliant quicksilver eyes. Those and how much he had made her scream as they made passionate love in his now partially destroyed bed.

Glancing at the opposite side of said piece of furniture, he sighs as he realizes that she was already gone, only the smell of her perfume to prove the fact that she even existed. Noticing his bladder and the fact that it is demanding to be emptied, he finally stands and rushes into the bathroom, groaning at the fact that despite her absence, she still left several bite marks on his shoulders and chest, including one that appears to have drawn some blood.

He's more than a bit concerned that she's mate marked him, but he soon puts it out of his mind as he smells the first aroma of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen. Grabbing a pair of shorts, he stops long enough to put them on before exiting and joining his sister, Willow.

"Good morning, Twit. I see you finally took advantage of me being gone and punched your v-card." Willow, like him, is unusually tall for a woman at six foot, one inches in height thanks to their birth father, a Mountain of a wolf faunus man. With her long, ankle length white hair, brilliant ruby red eyes, and curvy figure, she is possibly the most highly sought after bachelorette in all of Atlas and Mantle, despite her missing limb.

"Indeed, dolt. It was nice having the place to myself for a change." He replies quietly as he helps himself to the coffee. Looking around, he sighs as he notices that, once again, there is no sign of the young mystery woman who came home with him last night. A few small clues in the fact that his own clothes are still strewn about, the smell of laundry detergent and fabric softeners cling to the air, and her empty wine bottle is still in the garbage.

"Then perhaps I should return to Vale more often." She replies quietly as she slowly sips at her coffee, the mug held securely in her sole hand. "I found myself having a rather lovely evening of my own with a particularly handsome man around our age."

"Oh?" He asks curiously as he sits next to her and grabs at the morning paper. "Please say you at least caught his name." He adds while opening it to the classifieds to look for a small hunt of some kind to stay busy.

"Xiang Xiao Long, my dear twit. And let me guess, you once again showed your lack of manners by not introducing yourself properly?" She asks while shaking her head in disbelief.

"I will admit to being quite intoxicated. So much so that even Dad would have been lecturing me."

"Ouch. When even Daddy would be raising hell as he calls it, you know you overdid it somehow." She admits as she sets her coffee down and checks her messages. "I wish the guild would leave me alone." She suddenly blurts out angrily as she throws her scroll across the room and into a wall. "Why would I take a contract now?! When I am a diminished weakling!"

Seeing the coming meltdown, Eis puts his own search for work to the side to wrap his arms around his volatile twin. "Be at peace, sister. I'll go have a word with the general."

She nods as she bursts into tears while clinging to him. "Is it not bad enough to be a cripple, Eis?! Is it not torture enough to not even be able to look at myself in a mirror without feeling like a weakling?!"

"Shhhh, you are not a cripple, Noiry. You are the strongest woman I know. Not many can continue on like you have, living your life as you do with courage and passion." He whispers to her as he rubs her back.

All thoughts of figuring out who his mystery partner flee his mind as he begins to rock his sibling gently, while she weeps into his chest with almost bone shaking sobs of sorrow. It would be several hours before he is able to return to his room to make his bed, discovering a bracelet of some kind left behind on his mysterious guest's side of his bed. A bracelet with a burning rose set in the middle…

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Ruby sighs as she settles deeper into her seat in the business class section of the Melta Airlines airship. After the events of her drunken night, as well as the rush to wash her clothes and get back to the airship port, she can only hope no one saw her walk of shame. Both of her mothers would kill her for pulling a Xiang, and Robin would be giving her shit for it for years to come.

But wow! What a night before all the rushing around!

As she settles down even more into her seat, while also curling up under the blanket she bought at the port, she is beginning to drift off when her scroll begins to vibrate insistently. Opening one silver eye, she begins to swear softly as she sees her older brother's grinning face on the screen. Grabbing an earbud out of her purse, she sighs as she puts it into one human ear and pushes the green button. "What?"

"Damn sis, is that any way to greet your favorite brother?"

"You're my only brother, thank the Goddesses, and I'm hung over."

"Awwww, poor poor bunny. It's been too Xiao Long since I took you out, hasn't it?" The older blonde replies impishly.

"Oh shut up, you obnoxious dragon!" Ruby snarls as she digs in her purse for some asprin or something to make the pounding in her head go away. "What do you want?!"

"I met someone."

"What's their name?" She asks as she motions to a flight attendant for something to drink, grateful the woman brings a bottle of water a moment later and not soda or alcohol.

"Her, thanks. I think I'm done with non binaries since Blake broke my heart and all." She can't help but to have a small moment of sympathy for her bisexual disaster of a brother. He had loved Blake Belladonna deeply, and the nonbinary panther faunus had broken his heart into pieces when they decided they were more interested in the fairer sex than him. Ruby and Raven both still have some choice words for the panther the next time they cross either woman's paths.

"Wow, an actual woman this time? You must be losing your touch with men again." She can't help but to tease him. She recognizes that tone of voice, and she wants him to stay positive.

"Correction: a black wolf faunus woman. A perfect black wolf faunus woman." She smiles at the delight in his voice, and quickly takes the headache medicine in her hand so that she can keep him on topic. "Tell me about her."

Ruby Rose keeps smiling as she settles back into her chair, under her new blanket, and listens to her brother tell her excitedly about this new woman he met while in Vale, while she was there on a business trip. At least until she realizes that her bracelet is missing…

[cryptidcutiesstuff]

I’m Stronger than you think!

this is a Bucky x reader thing i decided to write. the story is actually my own OC’s backstory so i would appreciate if you didn’t take any “inspiration” for your own characters :) i just thought people would like to read it through their own eyes :D

in this chapter there isn’t any Bucky unfortunately, its just an introduction to Y/N, but Bucky should appear in upcoming chapters :D 

pairing: Bucky x Reader :) 

chapter 1

warnings: mentioned infertility and adultery

 I met him in Highschool, a nice sweet boy who helped me pick up my books that had been so carelessly pushed to the floor by a blonde haired wannabe. I was always bullied, sometimes for my appearance but mainly for my personality. Now you see being a strong independent woman was not very appealing in the 1930s, but for some reason he didn’t care about that. We went on dates, and eventually fell in love and were a couple for more than 4 years until he popped the big question. I thought everything was fine, I was happy, but apparently he wasn't. And it was because I was infertile, unable to have kids.

That lying son of a bitch! I stomped through the crowded office building in my black heels, angrily walking up to my car ready to drive away from him, how could he do this to me after everything. “Y/N, Please!” I turned around and tore off the chain of metal that was hanging round my neck, throwing it carelessly at the man who I once loved. He bought me that necklace on our first date. I always kept it on me “here! Keep it, or better yet give it to the nice secretary in the office!” I said as tears rolled down my flushed cheeks. 2 years we had been married, I cared for him, stayed at home for him, cooked, cleaned. I was even willing to bear his children if I was able but instead he betrayed me and my trusting nature.

“Y/N, I'm sorry, please forgive me!”  he pleaded, grabbing my hand. I pulled it away from his grip, “how long?” “what?” “how long have you been sleeping with her?” I looked into his eyes, my eyes being full of pain and sorrow. “A year and a half” he weakly stated, breaking eye contact with me. My eyes widened in disbelief, I had been ignorant for nearly the entirety of our marriage. “Why then?” he began to get irritated, curling his hands into a fist, “Joshua! Why?” I repeated. “Because you can't have children!” he shouted at me. I just stood there stunned, that simple sentence stabbed me straight through the heart. I quickly recomposed myself and then spoke up furious and yelled  “yeah. Believe me I know that! It's the one thing I am meant to do as a woman, and I can't do it! And I'm sorry that I can't!”  My outburst seemed to shut the both of us up. “Josh, obviously this isn't working any more, we don't work, so maybe…..maybe it's better that we go our separate ways, I'll stay with a friend temporarily, I'll go get my belongings now.” I said as I turned around, Joshua didn't say anything but watched me get into my car and drive away.

For the duration of the drive I was trying to contain the rest of the bottled emotion that was threatening to spill, I just needed to get to my friends current apartment, Peggy Carter, she was leaving in a few days for the war. When she told me her brother helped her get a place in the war as field agent I couldn't help but have my worries. Women weren't exactly treated well by men, and unfortunately she was going to be surrounded by them. How different things would be if women were respected and treated as a males equal, instead of being sexualised and thought as the “weaker sex”. Pulling my car up on the pavement, I momentarily sat there until I let my head drop onto the steering wheel, unbeknownst to me I slammed my forehead right into the car horn, causing a loud beep to rupture from the vehicle startling me. Clutching my heart I stepped out trying my best to ignore all the staring faces of the civilians around the area while walking over to Peggy’s apartment complex. I ran up to her door knocking on it frantically, she opened it wide not expecting me to be there. She looked at me, eyes softening when she saw my broken expression. “Oh Y/N darling.” her British accent rang through my ears as she invited me in for a hug. The exact moment she placed her head on top of mine was when I broke, I sobbed while she held me tightly, “what's the matter? What happened?”  “ Its Josh, he's been cheating on me for most of our marriage.” I said but I came out as a muffled sob from her shoulder. She pulled away, brushing hair behind my ear. “Oh Y/N, I'm so sorry. Tea and talk?” I sniffled and nodded in agreement as she shut the front door, walked over to the kitchen and placed the kettle over the stove.

When it was done, we began talking about Joshua and how I should have known he was cheating from the strange behaviour, he stayed out late often, didn't kiss me as much and never really wanted to get intimate with me. As the pieces added up I became more frustrated at myself for not noticing it earlier, I could have saved myself the heartbreak of finding him making out with his secretary in his office. I decided to flip through a few newspaper clippings Peggy kept on her kitchen island in an attempt to take my mind off Joshua. ”you could have punched him in the face you know.” Peggy piped up. “I know you're pretty good at a few hand to hand combat techniques courtesy of your father!” I looked up from the small newspaper clipping. “yeah, I know but I didn’t wanna waste my famous right hook on ‘im you know”  We burst out into a fit of giggles at the thought of Joshua on the ground. “You would probably be good at fighting in the war, Y/N.” I gave her the ‘yeah right’ face.

The conversation died down and a peaceful silence covered the room, the smell of the tea helped put my mind at ease a little. “So you’re going to war soon?” I broke the pause. “Yes I am, I'm quite excited actually, I'll be doing field work mostly but I hope I'll be of some help at least.”  I smiled “I’m sure that you’ll be great! it must be fun, I would give anything to go there myself. Maybe beat some sense into those brainless misogynistic pigs.” my smile turned into a smirk as Peggy laughed at my statement. “Well I could always recommend you to the colonel, he's the one that kind of runs the place.” I placed my china teacup down carefully onto its matching coaster. “Thanks for the offer peg, but I doubt they would even let me, a woman, near any tactical equipment.” there was a long pause once again until I made a quick snappy joke “unless I somehow dressed as a guy and infiltrated their army base.” I giggled at the silly thought, however Peggy didn't, I looked over cautiously not knowing if I had pushed any the wrong buttons. That was until I saw the look of determination in her eyes. “Peggy NO!”, “Peggy YES!”. 

“That’s a terrible idea! And what happens if they find out huh? What then?”  I crossed my arms looking at her from across the kitchen island. “By the time they find out it would be too late!”. “No Peggy it ain't happening, they wouldn't let me!” she stood there for a while “fine!” she sat down with a huff and we left it at that. We finished our tea and as the day began to end she walked me to my car, talking about when the war would be over, not knowing what the future would hold. Once I reached my car I threw my coat into the passenger's seat and closed the door for a moment while I gave Peggy a goodbye hug. “Thanks peg I needed that, I'll be on my way to Jacqueline's place, I'm staying there until I can get away from Joshua.” we parted and she gave me a gentle, reassuring smile. “You know that offer is still there.” “what offer?” there was a pause as I tried to remember what we spoke about, a light bulb went off in my head as it clicked. “PEGGY NO!” I stared at her in disbelief. “Y/N, come on, you know you really want to join. I could find someone willing to help you!” I knew she wasn't going to give up on asking me, so I reluctantly agreed. “Fine, you can try.'' I loved Peggy truly. but I unfortunately didn't have much faith that she would help me join the war. “Great! Well I hope you sort everything out with bloody Joshua.” I nodded in agreement and got into my car. I waved Peggy goodbye as I drove to Jacqueline’s ready to announce that I would be having a sleepover for a long while. Little did I know that I wouldn't be staying there for very long.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [final]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–dry humping but not really lololol w.c; 5.5k a/n; surprise! the finale is here. im a little emotional, i had so, so much fun writing this series. the most fun i’ve had writing in a long, long while. i really hope to all the new readers that you stick around for the other bts fics i have in mind. thank you for being so supportive and loving on this journey, and i hope you enjoy their ending! and pssssttt, the bonus chapter will come next friday, so look out for that! ty @btsghostiewritersnet​ for the Bingo Bash Challenge and encouraging me to finish my first bts series!

[08] [final] [bonus] -> masterpost

Your family took very good care of your apartment while you were away. The laundry is done, the tables are dusted, and your bed sheets are crisp and smell like lemon fabric softener. 

Unfortunately, you can’t say the same thing about your fridge. You can’t recall the last time you’ve seen the back of your fridge, but now it’s completely cleared out save for three cans of soda. 

At least there’s ramen you can boil. 

Waiting for the water your fingers drum over your countertops, taking in your home. It’s been two months since you’ve set foot in your apartment. You used to hate living in this little box of an apartment, jealous that your other co-workers got to share with others and have grander living spaces. However today, you feel content basking in the intimacy of your home, thankful for the breathing room it provides. 

Chilling with your candles on the counter, sits the bottle of angel wine you received that started it all. It looks innocent, sitting next to your Bath and Body Works candles like one of the team. In this scenario, the Angel surely trumpeted you. 

The facility they sent you to was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in disguise because you had time to think and get back on your feet with no repercussions of going “too slow” and the pressures of going back to work. A curse in its own merit because the doctors constantly poked and prodded at your brain, trying to help you process your supposed trauma and get you to remember. 

And sure, being sent unwillingly to an alternate dimension as you were practically forced to live another life and fall in love with the boy you already love is definitely trauma in it’s own right. However you’d be crazy to tell them and you’re not trying to end up in the cuckoo house anytime soon. 

So eventually you give them the boring, appropriate version. How you were flung meters away from the impact point, feeling like you were seconds away from being dead, every bone in your body protesting as you rolled off the road. Yadda yadda yadda, you said you remembered brief flashes of your hospital room during your coma, catching simple conversation exchanged between your visitors, but nothing concrete. When you woke up, you thought you were in a dream about being in a coma, and once you saw that you’ve actually been asleep for two months, caused a panic which led you to their facility. Everything but the crѐme of the story. 

With this utterly basic and blase confession, the doctors deemed you ready to transition and re-acclimate into your normal routine. 

“Ow, fuck,” you put too much water in your pot, and it’s now boiled over and some of the water has dripped on your hand. Immediately killing the heat, you decide that you’re not feeling ramen and you definitely deserve a treat meal before facing society head on. 

Quickly putting on a large sweater and leggings, you make quick work to the 7-Eleven across the street of your apartment complex. This has to be a ten-minute trip, tops. You start to shove whatever looks edible into your basket, making sure to have an equal balance of sweet and salty foods. 

A low whistle from behind causes you to bristle, and you turn around to shove your container of Kewpie mayonnaise into the offender’s chest. 

“I promise, I don’t wolf-whistle just any pretty girl at 7-Eleven.” 

Your weapon of choice drops into your basket, face softening at the man in front of you. “Hoseok?” 

You almost double-take, thinking for just a half-second that you could be dreaming. It’s been so long, but seeing the pearly white grin on his face and the red cap on his head feels all too familiar, and you’re overwhelmed with emotion. Dropping your basket you throw your arms around him, laughing when he nearly stumbles and you two almost topple over the dried foods section. 

Heat stains Hoseok’s cheeks, not used to being this close with you. “Didn’t think you had it in you to miss me,” he says lightly, only half-joking. 

“Of course I missed you, Hobi,” you admonish, leaning back slightly to adjust the cap that turned wonky once you embraced him. “It’s been what, two months?” 

“Almost five, actually,” you can feel him tense up as you try to adjust the bangs on his forehead. This must be really awkward for him, but you made a promise to someone to try to become better friends with him, so why not start now? “But I guess it doesn’t count for you if you were in a coma for two of them.” 

“Right,” 

Hoseok watches your eyes glaze over, deep in thought. In his haste he grabs your basket, gesturing for you to follow him to the register. You don’t even argue when he starts to pay for you, slipping the bottle of aspirin he wanted to pick up upon finding you in the same aisle. 

“Hobi?” you ask, following him outside. 

“Yeah?”

“We should hang out,” you say, ignoring the surprise on Hoseok’s features. He wasn’t expecting that, “My family pretty much rearranged my place while I was away, and put in a lot of home workout stuff,” he chuckles at the face you make, “but they left my old tennis racket. I know you used to play so I could use a partner.”

To your utter relief Hoseok nods brightly, “I’d like that.” 

You grin, taking your leave as Hoseok follows your trail. You try to hide how giddy you are by hiding your head in your hood, smiling wide at the thought of spending more time with Hoseok. Both of you seem to be headed in the same direction, Hoseok making small talk about what’s going on in his life and what you’ve missed. 

He stops in front of the apartment complex, gesturing to the studio he’s currently practicing in. “I should go call Jungkook for you,” he says, “he’s been worried sick about you.” 

At the mention of Jungkook, you shove your hands in your burgundy pocket, wringing at the old fabric. “I’ll call him tomorrow,” you say, biting your lip, “I’m not quite ready yet.” 

“Of course,” and it looks like he wants to ask more, but out of politeness he doesn’t. He’s always had a vague understanding of your relationship with Jungkook, but it isn’t his business. “But if he asks about you—which he does a lot and it’s super annoying—I’m not lying.” 

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” you smile. 

“That boy, he visited you every day he could. You know that?” Your heart softens at the confession, and you heat up. Hoseok reaches over to squeeze your shoulder, bending down to send you a smile equally as heartening. “So call him soon, okay?” 

The both of you part ways feeling lighter and sweeter. The rest of your way back up to your apartment is peaceful, until you hear someone crying on your floor. Your heart aches seeing your old co-worker slumped up against your door. Her hair has grown in, surprisingly not styled and she looks like she’s just ran a marathon to beat you. When she sees you approach her, she gives you a wobbly pout. 

“You bitch,” Sehlyung says with no bite to her tone. She’s teary, and has been sitting against your door because the lock has changed. You must’ve just missed each other, “why didn’t you tell me the second you arrived in the city?” 

“I was just going to call you,” you bend down to reach her eyes, “how’d you know I was already here?” 

“C-cousin texted me,” she holds up her phone, wiping her face with her sleeve, “she’s a surprisingly good texter for a five-year-old.” 

You laugh, offering a hand to pull her up. “I’ve missed you,” 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you too,” and she hugs you, squeezing your insides out with every fiber of your being. “I’m so so sorry, baby.” 

“It’s not your fault—” 

“I fucking know! I know it’s not my fault but just let me be sorry and hug you,” you relent after that, letting her cry on your shoulder as you fumble for the door so you can both catch up comfortably. 

You set up the table for your feast, lining up everything from 7-Eleven onto the coffee table as Sehlyung busies herself by pouring you guys cups of tea. She eats quietly, to your surprise. You didn’t realize how much this accident would have affected her, especially being the last person you saw before you left. The two of you exchange simple, mindless talk, with Sehlyung complaining about how much harder work has gotten and how boring your life in the facility, to the point that you wanted to teach the patients English just for the fun of it. 

Sehlyung still looks a little weary, as if expecting you to be upset and blame her like she wanted to. You don’t give her that, instead you reach over to pat the black roots of her hair. “Girl, how  could you let it grow out like this?” you admonish, knowing how much she hated to see roots after the first two weeks. 

“Was waiting for you,” she mumbled between bites of her onigiri, “you’re the only one that does my roots. Can’t have some salon jip me for hundreds of won just because you got into a coma.” 

You laugh, patting your knees as you move to your bathroom. “Pretty sure your hair stuff is still here,” you chirp, “let me fix that for you while you’re here, yeah?” 

After the day is spent and Sehlyung’s hair is freshly dyed, you two cap off the night with some popcorn and a subpar romance movie. The two of you aren’t really paying much attention to it, instead the focus is on the silent understanding the two of you have as you bask in each other's presence. 

Sehlyung leans her head on her shoulder, smelling like fresh conditioner. “Y’know,” she says, “he blames himself too.” 

“Jungkook?” you know exactly who she's referring to. 

“Yeah, probably because of what he said that night,” 

“You two are such softies,” you remark, pulling her closer, “all tough and strong on the outside so no one sees how weak you are to the people you love.” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Cleaning up your work locker is like unfolding a time capsule.

Thankfully, everything’s still there (aside from your Caprese sandwich Sehlyung so thankfully remembered to dispose of.) You take great care in putting all your things in your duffle bag, from your extra hoodie in case it gets cold to the soft covered textbooks that are worn from love and overuse. 

You thumb your finger over the photograph of you and Jungkook, untacking it from the inside door. You don’t even remember when this was taken, a blurry polaroid of you on his back with sparklers in each hand. Both of you look hysterical, from the manic grin on Jungkook’s face to the slightly panicked face you sport because the sparklers are hovering dangerously close to your faces. 

A little part of you feels bittersweet in closing this part of your life, but you have a feeling that this chapter ended long ago. 

Making quick work to drop off your locker key among other workstuffs, you manage to catch a glimpse of some familiar faces working. The studio door is open, presumably to air out the seven sweaty bodies that have been working tirelessly. You pop your head open, nose crinkling at the smell. 

You barely get a word in as passing staff come to greet you and marvel on your recovery. It’s a little overwhelming, but seeing the relief and relaxation on their faces as they take in your healed body like you’re Jesus reincarnate. 

You also notice that Jungkook’s nowhere in sight.

Namjoon bumbles over to you, throwing himself on you like a bear swallowing you whole. “We missed you so much!” 

“Ugh, sweaty!” you make a face when his muscle tee is practically transparent, “Joon, you’re like a sauna!” 

He fakes a defeated sigh, making an exaggerated gesture of holding his shoulders in a tired shrug. “I get it, you don’t wanna hug me,” he declares, “after months and months, the only person you’re really looking for in this room is Jeon—” you squirm among the staff and the way they mull around the room, seemingly disinterested in your conversation. 

But of course, you never know who could be listening in. 

Namjoon cuts himself short and squeezes your shoulder, as if to say you know what I mean. 

“You actually just missed him. He left his extra clothes at the dorm. If you leave now, you’ll be able to catch him,” Jimin offers. He’s slumped on the ground, regarding you with a secret smile. 

“Yeah, and it’s okay if he’s five minutes late.” Hoseok pipes up, downing a water bottle. 

“Or ten.” 

“Or a day late,” Hoseok finally says, “a day is fine.” 

You snort, looking between the three boys. “I wasn’t looking for him,” you scoff, but from the looks on their faces, they already knew. With an exasperated shout and a rushed goodbye, you dart out of the studio, acutely aware of the giggles that follow you out. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The floor of their apartment took up the entire complex and then some, so you had to get Namjoon’s code to reach that floor. A little part of you knew you also could’ve just texted Jungkook to wait for you, but you had an inkling you would chicken out the second your phone indicated he was typing. The animated (...) always gave you a little bit of anxiety. 

But now you’re at their front door and you’re not so sure if you feel ready. You felt ready this morning, when you dressed “comfortably but cute” in an outfit appropriate for cleaning out your previous job’s locker and just so happening to stumble upon Jungkook. That didn’t happen, and now you no longer have the cushion of being at the company surrounded by people. 

It would just be him and you, for as long as you two need. 

You’re only allowed to dive headfirst into the situation, because suddenly Jungkook is barreling out the door, presumably rushing to get to practice. He’s also equal amounts of sweaty, but at least has a clean shirt on. The white cotton is haphazardly thrown on, the collar so wide that the gap seeps onto his tanned chest.

Said chest barrels into your face, and you go down hard. 

He cries your name like a prayer, dropping whatever’s in his hands to kneel to your aid. He’s shaking, unable to register that you’re simultaneously here and not here because he just bulldozed the entirety of his weight into your unsuspecting body. 

You’re dizzy, trying hard to focus on him through bleary eyes. Jungkook looks like he’s about to cry. His carmine eyes scan your body for damages, and his one hand cards roughly through his untrimmed hair. The slight curl from yesterday’s salon job has lessened, but still manages to bounce back despite his futile attempts to get his bangs out of the way. 

“J-Jung—” dammit, why was it so hard to formulate two syllables? “Oreos.”  

“Wha?” 

“Your Oreos,” your eyes flicker to the quickly escaping tins that came from his arms, wheeling further and further down the hallway, “running away.” 

He scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh by the quirk of his lips, “They’re fine. They’re not going anywhere,” he steps back a bit, sitting on his heels to give you some breathing room, “you on the other hand, can’t go anywhere.” 

You narrow your eyes, “I didn’t come here to just leave,” you say, “I came here to talk to you, until you so gracefully said hello to me with the entirety of your muscle mass.” 

Jungkook deflates, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” so much for a graceful start, “let’s get inside.” 

“I uh, I have practice,” but he scrambles to pick up the Oreos and the clothes he dropped, “so we can start talking for a bit and then… ?” 

“Ah, Hoseok said you can come to practice tomorrow,” he lights up at the mention of his friend, “I mean, if you want. I don’t know how important this practice is but—” 

“It’s not,” he blurts, then sees the shock on your face when he’s cut you off, “I mean, it’s important but not that important. I mean uh, in comparison to now, and your head… and the Oreos.” 

“Right.” 

Not trusting yourself to get up too fast, you decide to crawl around to gather up the tins of Oreos while Jungkook moves to pick up your bag. With three tins gathered in your arms, you take the proffered hand Jungkook offers you to hoist you up. Your head throbs a little, but you know Jungkook’s got you. You try not to think too hard about the hand in your grip as it switches to hover over your waist as he leads you inside. 

The penthouse isn’t as different as you imagined it would be. Then again, you could imagine how little time they spend in here anyway. The granite and dark wood kitchen remains, and your hands hover over the cool material. You’ve always been jealous of their living space, and often grumble about how their kitchen and living room spans about three sizes of your apartment combined. 

Jungkook’s nose pokes in your bag as he sets it down, “You picked up all your work stuff?” 

“Yeah,” 

He gives you a strained smile, “It’s definitely not going to be the same without you at work,” you can tell how equal parts truthful and embarrassed he is, given by the way he breaks eye contact with you. “I mean, we can put in a good word for you if you want to come back?” he offers, “I don’t know if there’s still a position available for teachers but,” 

You shake your head, one hand gripping the counter. You want to tell him that it isn’t his job to find him, but your heart is feeling particularly achy looking at the way he does want to help. After all, you two were still very close before your coma and the weeks leading up to your fight, “I think I want to try new things,” you say, “but thanks anyway.” 

“Oh-kay,” his eyes look towards where you two should get comfy. The living room is the most obvious option, but the thought of any of his members or staff coming in at any moment terrifies him, “let’s go to my room.” 

Unfortunately the Golden Closet isn’t made for two. He blanches as you two appear at his front door, noting the odds and ends of speakers, mixers, cameras and microphones taking up space on the floor and his desk. God, you must think he really doesn’t have his shit together after all this time. 

“So, you still sleep on electrical equipment?” you say wryly, climbing up to reach the bed. The only reason the bed is unoccupied is because it’s a half-bunk, high enough to avoid any of Jungkook’s things. 

It takes a second for Jungkook to follow you up, and he almost loses his breath at the sight of you sitting cross-legged, waiting patiently for him to sit across from you. It’s like old times, where you’d sleep in his room and wait for him to get back so you can finish another episode of whatever show you two were catching up on. It’s been awhile since he’s slept in his own bed, so the sheets are fresh and it's easy for you to sit on a clean space. 

“So,” Jungkook exhales, “what’s being in a coma like?” 

He wants to slap himself. Repeatedly. 

Your demeanor cracks, and maybe it wasn’t the wrong thing to say because up until now he never realized how much he missed your smile. “Waking up was the awful part, like the truck crashed into me in the middle of the room,” you reel it back when you see Jungkook’s face pinch, as if he thought back to his time watching over you in the hospital, helpless, “but uh, other than that, quite painless.” 

“That’s a relief,” and you feel better seeing Jungkook’s shoulders slump in his t-shirt, looking relatively calmer than before. You tilt your head, wanting to gauge his expression by sneaking a glance under his chin, where he’s tucked in his facials. “I uh, about the last time we talked…” In other words, the last time we fought,  but he’s still not looking at you, and it’s so unlike him. Jungkook doesn’t like beating around the bush, he’s a man who likes to cut to the chase and get straight to the poison of a conversation. 

But it’s been a full thirty seconds and you decide that’s enough, as he’s starting to look like a tortured animal and you feel the need to put him out of his misery. 

Placing a gentle hand on his knee you breathe, “It’s okay,” and his eyes flicker to yours, expectant. “I’m not going to push it, push us anymore. That wasn’t fair to you and I’m sorry. But we can still be friends and that’s more important to me.” 

And suddenly Jungkook’s face shoots up and he’s panicked. He looks sweaty, scarlet, and on edge all over again, as if you asked him to jump off Mount Fuji without a spotter. “Wait, wait,” he splutters, nearly banging his head on his ceiling. Jungkook tugs your hand back, pulling you to him, “y-you don’t want to try anymore?” 

You stare hard at the hand encasing yours, “Like I said, I want to start a new chapter in life.” 

“But that’s not what I was getting at.” 

You raise a brow, “So then what are you getting at?” 

And he clams up again. If you two were in a bigger space, you could imagine yourself tapping your foot impatiently, to the point that it got annoying and Jungkook would snap at you and give you a proper explanation to his weird behavior. 

Finally he exhales, “I dreamed about you.” 

You narrow your eyes in confusion, “What kind of dreams?” 

“Random ones,” he shakes his head, trying to recollect them. “They were of us, but not really us, y’know? It was like a different life, we did all the fun stuff we used to do,” he frowns, thinking he must sound really stupid that he’s betting everything on a couple of imaginations, “and some of it wasn’t. Like we’d be in the city taking pictures, or arguing in a library. But we were so happy,” he stops himself, because now he’s starting to feel silly, “and it made me think of what would happen if I met you under different circumstances, and even though it’s hard under our circumstances I want—a-are you crying?” 

You start to whine, displeased with your emotions as you start to think about the past four months. Had Jungkook seen what you lived through? If so, how? Rubbing furiously at your eyes, you shake your head furiously, “Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I’ve cried it out,” you forge up, “pl-please continue.” 

Jungkook moves sloth-slow, making sure his actions didn’t hurt you in any way. When he senses your consent, he pulls you over to his side of the bed, wrapping a tentative arm around your shoulder. Your scent engulfs his senses when you instinctively lay your head on his shoulder, your breath lingering between his neck. 

“I really hated myself for a while,” he admits, “when I saw you in that hospital bed, I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I’ve wanted to experience with you and,” he’s starting to feel a glimmer of what you’re feeling, and he sniffs, resting his chin on your head, “if you’re going to start a new chapter in life, I want to be part of it too because I love you.” 

Expecting your shock, he turns his head away for yours to whip up, face centimeters from yours. “Y-you love me?” you echo, mouth open and eyes wide. 

He laughs at your expression, “I’m sure you knew that. We’ve been idiots for the better half of the year.” 

“I know… but hearing it is different!” you’re caught up in the whirlwind, leaning forward to tug on his collar, “C-can I kiss you?” A little part of you is impatient, a bit too greedy for your usual demeanor but you’ve longed for him so. 

Jungkook pouts, “You didn’t even say I love you back.”

“That’s a no?” 

“I didn’t even brush my teeth…” 

“Jungkook.” 

He tries not to smile too hard at your eagerness. As much as he wants to kiss you, he needs to think better and continue on with his apology. It’s the least you deserve. “I’m sorry for not respecting your feelings that day,” he says, running his hands across your body. They stop at the curve of  your waist, holding you down flush against him. You feel your body sing in response, but you tamp it down when he continues, “I shouldn’t have made the decision for you by rejecting you like that, it… it wasn’t fair to our feelings.”  

“It wasn’t fair at all, and it hurt a lot.” you agree completely, and as much as it pained him to hear it, he needed to. Letting go of his collar, you sit back between his legs, “but I understand why.” 

“And the next morning when I woke up, and everyone was crying I—” he’s choked up, tangling a hand through your hair to affirm that you’re really here, and really okay, “I know it’s not my fault, but I felt like I was in a movie. Like one of those crappy romances where one character gets into a really bad accident and the dumb boy finally realizes how much he loves her.” 

He looks guilty, as if he wants to tack on how he feels like it is his fault. Jungkook bites his lip, fearful that you’ve realized he’s not good enough for you. No matter how many times he’s fabricated the scenario in his head, he only pictures the disappointment and pain in your features for falling for a guy like him. 

But instead, you reach over with bright eyes leaning on your elbows to press a kiss to Jungkook’s mouth. It isn’t even a long kiss, but it feels nothing short of a cool wave washing him in relief. You pull away before he could deepen it, and you giggle when you see his mouth still puckered open like a fish. “You are a dumb boy,” you murmur, “but I still love you.” 

You go soft in his grip when his eyes glow, sparkling carmine with nothing but sheer love and affection for you. The feeling comes unbridled, genuine and all-encompassing for the first time in a long time. He doesn’t know how much time he can cherish with you before he’s whisked away to his next activity, but he can surely make the best of what he has now. 

It takes no effort for him to pull you in a sitting position, making it so your arms wrap around his trim waist. Snug together, he presses kisses to every part of your face, your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. 

This feeling, this touch is long overdue for the both of you, but you’re languid in your attention, letting it wash over you like the sun on a warm day. You’ve missed him so much, you’ve missed this Jungkook. The man who has been with you through thick and thin for over a year, who’s struggled with the weight of the world and the audience of millions, is in love with you as much as you are him. Jungkook, who sings your worries away and makes you want to become a better person with each passing moment, is holding you like the most precious thing on the planet. 

His kisses turn white hot, wetting your neck as he hoists you up to settle neatly on his thighs. A soft, high-pitched sigh escapes your lips when you feel something hard and thick press into your core. 

A sense of urgency fills his radar at the press of your thighs locking tighter around his body. “Fuck, babe—” his hands grip the swell of your hips, bucking into you once, twice, so hard that the frame shakes. “You’re so, pretty I—” you moan into his neck, hands running every expanse of available skin, “I love you so, so much, pretty girl.” 

You stop to clutch his face with both hands, enjoying the way your thumbs brush his pretty cheekbones and your palms fill with his soft, adorable cheeks. “I love you, too. Now, will you make love to me?” 

“Fuck, yes,” and the fondness in your eyes immediately glaze over when he throws all his weight into you again, making you feel weak and wet with pleasure. 

“Jungkook,” you drawl, “just like that, please I—AH!” 

It isn’t a cry of pleasure. A little too into it, Jungkook thrusts particularly hard, enough for you to come down and the bedframe to soon follow. There’s a sickening crack in the metal, and the both of you immediately scramble as you feel your combined weight sinking into the corner of the bunk. Jungkook clutches your body in a vice, prepared to protect you in the event you two come crashing down. Now Jungkook remembers why he hasn’t been sleeping in his bed as of late. 

It’s dead silent, apart from your labored breathing. When your eyes finally refocus, you notice that you two have dipped and you’re looking at Jungkook from a slight angle, your weight tipping. You two broke the frame. 

“Kook,” you cry, digging your nails into his shoulder, “you need a new bed!” 

He shakes his head, “Don’t think this bed was made for this kind of activity,” he peels the thin mattress, noting the way that two bolts in the paneling have come loose. One panel has already slipped, hanging at the edge and creating a large gap. He shakes his butt experimentally, noting the way the framework swerves with him. “That’s not good.” 

“How could you have not noticed the loose bed frame!” 

“It’s kind of hard to worry about your bed when you have a job that requires you being awake 25/8.” 

“Well, how do we get down without bringing the whole frame down?” 

“Uh, I’ll throw you down in that little space by the door. Make sure to tuck in your knees and make a ‘lil triangle with your hands in case—” 

“What the fuck—you’re going to take a chance and throw the love of your life down the bunk?”

“Babeeee,” he whines, eyes zeroing in on his precious computer directly under the frame,  “there’s expensive equipment down there!” 

With a glare, you swivel your hips on his dick and he groans, unable to move. He barely gets a centimeter upwards before the frame moves and squeaks even lower. You don’t bat an eye when Jungkook panics for your safety over pleasure. Payback. “Call Seokjin,” you demand, pulling out your phone from your back pocket, “now.” 

There’s something familiar in this kind of banter, and you want to akin this feeling to home. All your tears shed, your longings to go back to this world, all pinpoint to the home that is Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook mutters something under his breath about you being too bossy, punching the numbers in. As soon as Seokjin answers, you send him a sultry wink and move. 

It… isn’t sexy. You’re giggling as Jungkook holds his breath, tells Seokjin on the line as tersely as possible that he needs to get here as soon as possible with some help and a new bed frame. Jungkook’s face is read, giving you warning looks as you bounce on him, the metal edging you on in a way that’s simultaneously unsafe and thrilling. When Jungkook hangs up, he sends you a look that says you’re gonna get it but instead presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. The chaste gesture makes you melt in his arms.  

Silent, he pulls away and your thumb brushes his shiny lips, smiling at you as you wait it out. 

As you lean your head in his shoulder and wait for help, you’re reminded of something. Not long ago, another Jungkook told you that he couldn’t wait to fall in love with you again, and now you’re echoing the same sentiment. You can’t wait to love him, too. 

[certifiedskywalker]

Late Night - Peter Parker

Due to the cramped apartment complexes littering the streets of Queens, crowding was often a large complaint amongst residents. However, you found the close quarters more than bearable. Peter Parker had a way of turning a less than attractive situation on its head. Luckily for you, the friendly, neighborhood Spiderman just happens to be your best friend.

You could look past how the entire building seemed to creak whenever there was a harsh storm and how, every so often, the odd bird would run into your window, waking you during the night. However those natural occurrences felt all too rare when compared to the unnaturally loud apartment patrons that seemed to surround you on all sides. Most of the time, instead of actually resting, you would lay in your bed listening. Your neighbors seemed to have no volume control and, often, you could make out what they were saying.

For instance, you seemed to share a wall with an older Italian woman whose son recently moved back in, much to her very vocal disappointment. Apparently his ‘big role’ fell through and, being the daughter of immigrants, the woman was very displeased with her son’s failure to ‘get an actual job’. On the rare occasion that the mother and son were not at each other's throats, you could catch the tell tale moans and the sounds of a squeaking bed frames of the couple living above you. You never thought it was possible for people to love each other too much, but many sleepless nights had long since proven that wrong.

There were few, select interruptions to your slumber that you didn’t quite mind. The aforementioned birds hitting your window, the sorrowful cry of a baby down the hall, and a specific set of taps against your window. The very tapping sound that pulled you from your sleepy haze now pulled a smile to your lips. Throwing the covers up and away from your body, you climbed out of your bed to pry open the window. You were met with a slight gust of cool night air and a few sirens sounding off across New York City.

It was only when the silhouette of Spiderman crawled his way through the new opening to your apartment when you felt at peace. He, despite his grace and abilities, crumpled to the ground. Even with his tumble, still held tightly in his hands of a box of Martino’s pizza. The aroma of tomato sauce and perfectly melted cheese hit you nose, making you ever the more grateful for Peter’s night-time intrusion.

“Hey,” Peter greeted when he was finally on his feet once more. A gloved hand reached up and plucked the mask from his face. His chestnut colored hair seemed unaffected by the original blue and red suit tight fit, as the curls seemingly bounced back into place.

“Martino’s?” You ask, gesturing towards the box with saliva pooling in your mouth. The pizza was a welcome distraction from noisy neighbors and the pounding of your heart at the sight of Peter. Little did you best friend know, these random midnight rendezvous held a very special place in your heart that beat only for Peter Parker himself.

“Right to business, huh?” Peter asked teasingly, the deep smile that bloomed on his lips made you blush furiously.

“Well you don’t usually bring a midnight snack with you,” you counter, trying to regain some composure. “It’s about time that Spiderman did something worthwhile.”

Your teasing coaxes a ruckus laugh from Peter as he closes the window. “Worthwhile? You mean saving a lady’s purse and her buying him a pizza is worthy but saving the world isn’t? Wow, I’ve been doing things wrong.”

Smiling, you reach over and mess his hair affectionately. Your eyes catch his brown ones and you swear you see a flash of tenderness in their sparkle. Suddenly feeling too close and too warm, you pull your hand back from his hair. Peter coughs slightly before popping open the pizza box. Eagerly, he pulls a slice out, the cheese stretching out deliciously. Mouthwatering at the sight, you too grab a slice.

“So a lady you saved bought you this pizza?” You questioned between bites. Peter nodded and swallowed before answering. His brown eyes lit up as he retold the tale. The joy he had for helping people never failed to make your heart ache with happiness. You were happy for Peter and wished that, one day, you could be happy with him.

“Well, actually, I saved her purse. Some guy ran up and took it from her,” he smiled again, “she was really nice.” You watched as he took a bite of the ‘thank-you’ pizza, marveling at how something so valiant could roll off his tongue as if it were a simple spot of normalcy.

“That’s cool, Peter,” you said softly, “you’re making our little corner of the world safer. Plus, you have a fancy suit.” Your teasing prompted Peter to laugh, nearly choking on his bite of pizza.

“You sound like a proud parent,” Peter jabs back, but you can see that he appreciates your words. His cheeks are dusted in light pink, a timid smile on his lips.

“It’s true though. This city is messy enough, so you trying to clean it up is really awesome.” Peter’s brow furrowed at your words that were laced with a bitterness all too felt.

“Y/N, it’s not that bad here….right?” His eyes were wide as he waited for your reply, mouth slightly parted with audible worry. Your gaze traced over his face, the face of your longest lasting friend. The face of the one you had grown to love with your whole heart.

“It’s not so much as bad as it is lonely,” you murmur, pulling your eyes from his bashfully. Despite your averted gaze, you could still feel Peter’s eyes on you.

“Lonely? How? You have-”

“Everyone around me has someone, even if they’re fighting or being annoying. They’re together.” You throw your arms in the air, gesturing to the walls of your bedroom and, through the walls, to your loud neighbors. Peter cocked his head in slight confusion and you let out a shaking sigh. He couldn’t understand, not really.

Peter had Aunt May who was glued to his side since you were both little kids. Ned and MJ tried to include you but, no matter what they did, you left like you were intruding. It seemed that you were alone when it came to the end of the day. Everyone around you left, retired, and slept until the next, leaving you lonesome. That is why these nightly visits from Peter gave you butterflies and hope. He would never leave you for very long, even if he was perplexed by your thoughts; you would savor the time explaining to him.

“I mean, look, even the older woman who shares this wall with me,” you point to the wall your bed rests against, “she has her son at the end of the day. Even if they do fight, there’s still love. I guess I….I just want something like that.”

“Someone to share home with?” Peter asks, his voice soft and high in question. It is then you meet his gaze, peering back into his brown eyes that are full of light despite the darkness of night filtering through your window. You only nod in response and tackle the tears that threaten to spill over your cheeks.

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, letting your gaze fall to the floor you both were sitting on. The pizza box between you was a little more forgotten now.

“In what way?” Peter’s tone shifts with the question, it’s colder, more serious. You spare a glance up at where he sits and met his eyes.

“What do you mean?” “In what way do you want to share a home with someone?” Peter clarifies, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity you have never seen from him before.

“I think you know what I mean, Peter,” you say, much too shy to admit that you wanted him at the end of the day to hold you closer than friends normally do. Your friend remains silent, but you can almost see his mind working over your words. His mouth opens but if Peter says anything you don’t hear it. The sound of your heart beating was now roaring in your ears at Peter leans closer to you. You could now smell the sweat on his skin mixed with the cologne he rarely wore. When he does actually speak, his words steal the breath from your lungs.

“You make me feel less lonely, Y/N,” he admits in a slight whisper. You scan over his face in search of any tell of a lie. Without finding any sign, you let yourself lean ever more close to Peter. You could feel the heat of his body licking your own and you could only guess how flushed your cheeks were now.

The warmed tension was gathering between your bodies, pushing aside what was left of the pizza. Your mind was turned elsewhere now. All your focus was centered around Peter. Not even the loneliness nipping at your heels could turn your eyes away. Your lips were a mere inch or so away from Peter’s now. Unable to hold back, you reach up and brush a brown curl away from his face.

“You make me feel less lonely too, Peter,” you breath out, prompting Peter to smile boyishly at you. The moment you can first detect his lips skirting against your own, a loud crash sounds in one of the apartments neighboring your own. You jumped back, heart pounding in your chest for a different reason. A woman’s shriek sounded and you looked back at Peter. He was already donning his mask and heading towards the window.

“I-I’ll be right back, Y/N! Hold on,” he shouted as he clambered out your window and back into the night. You watched as he ran off you save yet another lonely soul tonight. Smiling to yourself and your ‘almost kiss’, you felt that, tonight, your late night would be a little less lonely than usual.

[c-atm]

“So,” Heartberry started, “anyone has an idea of how to take this thing down cause I’m not crazy about being resprayed.” she leaned back with her legs crossed, sitting on Mister’s lap.

“We can’t ambush it, the thing always on guard, despite having one eye, ” Mister commented as he slumped in their recliner a little, “resilient thing too, just bounce everything off of that plum-colored skin of theirs.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Never faced anything so docile but, oh so annoying.” Witchy groaned, throwing her hands up in agitation, before folding her arms over her breast, pouting with puffed blush crossed cheeks and steady brows.  

The subject, how to take care of a demon who, despite being non-violent, leaves its victims comatose and foul-smelling.

So very foul-smelling.

They didn't know what it wanted. What's its purpose was, or if it even had one? Furthermore, it wouldn't tell them what it wanted...That or it couldn't. 

There wasn't a mouth on its balloon-like, limbless single-eyed body, an eye that changes colors and showed a whole lot of expression based on its emotions.

It should have been an easy kill, but it did have a high payout for its defeat, for a good reason too.

It has escaped the six of them three times so far. Leaving them all unconscious and reeking. Not even Amy was a fan of the smell. So much so that she chose to abandon the hunt.

Three nights of undertaking this task. 

Three nights of failing the task.

Three nights of smelling like literal defeat. 

Defeat took a ninety-minute bath and shower to scrub off and put everyone on edge, even after a night of sleep.

 None more than the resident witch. 

She woke with her eyes glowed with prideful anger, even as Dapper pampered her a bit, massaging her shoulders and fixing his lady her favorite breakfast, which she did appreciate but was too in her pride to convey it. Still, for the sake of the morning, he let it be.

The afternoon though, things hit their boiling point when they began to plan for their next attempt.

"I think I might have an answer," Dapper came in with a book in his hand. He laid it open to a page with the despicable eggplant looking demon. "Our target defense is related to its focus. The more alert it is, the more invulnerable it is, and believe it or not, it's a bit of a punk...so it's always on alert. Though, you can't really blame it. It's a rare demon and a big payday."

"Ok, so how do we take care of it," Witchy asked with a glare. 

"We have to distract it," Dapper announced with a smirk. "And what is its weakness, you ask." with a smirk, he pointed at a simple two-line description, which the three read.

"AHHH HAHAHA!" Mister threw his head back. "Ohh, well girls, looks like this is a job for you two."

Heartberry shook her head, "I knew it was looking at me strangely...Stop laughing." Her nostrils flared. "So...That's its weakness, so how do we exploit it."

"Photoshoot? Modeling? Music video!?" Mister chuckled, getting a headlock from his Connie.

"You know what? Fine." Witchy said coolly, getting off the couch and taking HB's hand and leading her out the room. "Going to pick up Amy, and we'll see you two in a couple of hours at that demon's base."

"My lady?"

He was answered with a slam of the front door, leaving the 'brothers' looking worried.

Two hours later, Dapper and Mister were waiting in the now abandoned apartment complex, waiting for their team.

"So what'd you think they came up with?" Mister asked, leaning back on a wall, eyes closed and hand in his pockets.

Dapper shrugged, looking a bit crushed." My lady is so damn prideful. Just hope she's not going to do something..Foolish for a win."

"She wouldn't be a 'Connie' if she took it on the chin, definitely if she feels she could win."

"Sis, stubborn as well, hmm?"

"Her most alluring trait." Mister smirked, opening his eyes and turning his head left, "speaking of alluring...Stars and Diamonds." He swooned.

Dapper looked over the same direction as Mister and arched an eye. 

Heartberry, Amethyst, and the duo of Sarah and Biddy strutting towards them.

Dressed in flashy, flirty idol outfits.

Mister whistled as they walked up.

"Keep your eyes and tongue in your head, Mister," Heartberry teased as Mister playfully wrapped her loose plaid tie over his finger. "Schoolgirl style?" 

"Yup, figured since it has a thing for the female form, we decided we'd appease its base emotions."

"I see devious." Mister flirted, "So..are you naughty or nice?" 

"I'll show you later alone." She grinned, giving him a peck.

"Ummm-"

"Yes...Always." The purple demoness answered Sarah's and Biddy's question before they could ask.

"Quite the plan you came up with, ladies," Dapper smirked.

"It was actually trailblazer's suggestion." Sarah started." Alicia would have joined, but she was needed at the church."

"How did you guys get roped into this?" The demon Steven questioned.

"I was promised a piece of the reward and amusement." Biddy announced, plainly, " so far, I am amused."

"Same." Sarah nodded affirmatively.

"Dapper." HB called, getting the demon's attention, "around the corner." 

Dapper didn't need any more than that as she morphed into a shadow, rushing to his lady's side.

He found her standing behind the corner, a cloak over her.

"My lady?"

Witchy leaped, red-face as Dapper formed himself from the darkness. "The hell, Steven. Give me a heart attack, why don't you?"

"Sorry." The half-demon offered, looking at his lady, " So? What are you doing over here?"

"Attempting to preserve my pride." She mumbled, "this is so stupid." She rubbed her temples with a groan before slamming her first to the wall. 

"I really don't get why you are so angry, My lady?"

"I don't like to lose."

"I know." He chuckled

"This demon beat me four times."

"Four? We only confronted it three times."

"I'm not talking just in battle!" She growled." I mean …" Witchy clenched her fist. " You know what, trash the plan."

 "This was your idea!" Shocks evident in Dapper's voice.

"I'm retracting it then!" 

"Why? It's a good plan!"

"Why? I'm not some...Cosplaying, dallying, cutesy, pop-idol, centerfold!!" The fiery witch roared upwards, 

"I'm a demon hunter! A witch! A warrior! A CONNIE MAHESWARAN!!" She continued, a flare of outrage literally coming from her mouth.

"Spitting fire, My lady."

He received a smoke conjuring snort as a response before she turned her back to him, her cheeky face pout returning, even as he interlaced his fingers around her stomach and pulled her to his chest, though it slipped a bit when she felt the rumble of his best from him chuckle on her back.

"Don't you think you're a bit too proud?"

"No! not at all!" She argued. "This thing has made a mockery of us. I mean, come on. Look what we've been subjected to." She groaned, leaning back into him. "Three nights of foul-smelling defeats from this one-eyed demon eggplant that won the genetic lottery in terms of defense and attentiveness, whose weakness is the 'allure of the fairer sex.'  How am I supposed to feel knowing that this was the thing that beat me...Beat us."

"It hasn't beaten us," Dapper looked at his flame. "We're still here, ready to do what we do best."

"But what we do best won't work, as long as it's on guard, we can't kill it, and all we have to do is get sprayed and humiliated again." Witchy retorted, "even against the likes of Stevonnie and Steven squared. It just repels everything before blowing us away in a noxious fume." The witch sighed in chagrin." And to cater to its taste...A demon's taste...How disgraceful."

"That's kind of offensive, Connie," Dapper stated, slightly crossed. "I'm half-demon, you know."

The witch's face flushed, shamed at her callousness. "Sorry, my dapper devil. I didn't mean it like that." She gave him a quick peck. "It's just this whole 'honeypot' plan. It's humiliating."

Sometimes it's a requirement." Dapper joked yet spoke truthfully, "you've been at this job long enough to know that, and you used you womanly wiles before, so why is this so different?"

"Because it might not work, and I don't want to look bad in front of you again, "  Witchy admitted looking down. "Especially against this do nothing demon, who can't attack more than letting out a nauseating gas."

Dapper kissed her crown gently, "My beautiful, prideful flame. You really let this plant sink its roots into you." Dapper laughed a bit before kissing her temple. 

"How are you laughing? How can you find even the most smidge of humor out of this situation?"

"The fact that this plant isn't threatening the populace helps." The demon admitted, "Annoying them to the point of abandoning their home for the time, but at least they're unharmed."

"True, it's more menace than monster, but that makes it all the more shameful." The witch complained, "we've battled true nightmares and won without breaking a sweat, and yet the thing that gave us trouble can't even speak! It's frustrating!"

"Irony at its finest." Dapper jest. 

"I want to win." Witchy declared. " I want to prevail over this creature; I have to..."determination in her voice.

"Well, then. We should join the others. We're holding the op-"

Dapper words fell short as Witchy's lips met his in an appreciative kiss. He was only slightly shocked for a moment before reciprocating. It all lasted a tongue-twisting, cheek caressing, hip holding, lip popping seven seconds before breaking off with a gentle -Chu-.

Dapper, a bit dizzy, turned upwards and breathed out a small heart-shaped fume. "Talk about your hot kisses."

"Pfft!" Witchy snorted before laughing into his chest. Holding him by the shoulder blades as he did. "Thank you," She whispered, adoring.

"For what?"

"Letting me vent, without judgment." She reached up, kissing his left cheek, "For making my favorite breakfast and massaging my shoulders." She kissed his right, "for dealing with my attitude in stride.

"It's no problem, My lady." He soothed, "I know your irritation comes from your convictions, your need never to let your people down." He kissed her forehead, "one of your most attractive qualities."

"Still."

"Still nothing. You are fine, not like you did anything insulting." He grinned, "You were just a sulky little witch."

"And impulsive."  She sighed, " whatever. It is what it is." Witchy surrendered as she walked out of his grasp, peeling off her cloak and making Dapper jaw drop.

She was wearing a dark blue collared crop top with purple plaid trim around the hem and collared with a loose-fitting blue and purple stripe tie, a pair of high thighs navy suspender shorts, some dark purple knee-highs, and black collared booties. Every curve that she hid was on full display, and Dapper was burning the visage in his mind forever.

Reaching to her back left pocket, she pulled out a hair clip shaped like one of Dapper's broaches as well as a tube lip gloss.

"Mind helping me?" She tossed him the tube before clipping her hair in a left side ponytail. Dapper nodded before taking Witchy chin in his left hand and slowly stroked the gloss across pressed the lips, giving them a shimmer. "Hmm, might have given you too much."

Before the witch could complain, her partner gave her a tingling, suckling upon the brims of her mouth.

It was sweet, swift, and soothing, precisely what his lady needed as he felt her relax under his kiss.

"Better?" He asked, reapplying the gloss again, getting a breath of calmness and appreciation.

"Yeah." She felt herself grinning, " you could have asked for a kiss, though."

"True, but kissing 'a idol' off guard was too good to pass." He gave her a playful and wolfish grin, making her blush and push him away.

"Gods no. I'm no idol."

"You're my idol." He whispered, pressing his head to hers.

Witchy pursed her mouth, pouting a bit." Well. I guess that's fine…" she gave him a quick peck. "but only yours."

"Does that mean there is a chance I'd get to see you in this outfit again?"

 "I'm more than likely going to end up burning this attire once we are done." She shrugged, teasing before backing away, turning, and walking towards the corner. "Come on, I'm sure the others are impatient and probably starting to head up to the roof."

"Of course," Dapper said, staring at his lady's confident stride before following behind her; idolizing the prideful fiery witch and all her perfect imperfection, as he always did.

[liquor-and-intellect]

Clouded- Part 1

In which Jules might or might not have feelings for her best friend, Harry, who is getting engaged to another girl and everything just becomes... more complicated. 

or

friends to lovers to enemies to lovers- it’s complicated

“Where are you even at right now, Harry? I don't see you,” I laughed into the phone, scanning the train station for the familiar broad shoulders and soft brown hair.

“Uh... I'm by a big sign...”

I plugged my other ear from the excess chatter around me. “Yeah, because that narrows it down,” I scolded and rolled my eyes.

Maneuvering my way through the crowd I felt a hand grab my wrist, spinning me around to the wide smile I grew up loving.

“There you are,” he laughed into my hair, pulling me into his chest for a tight hug.

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I breathed in the smell of his favorite cologne.

It had been one long month since I had last seen Harry. One long month of hardcore English papers, late night studying sessions and the occasional all-nighter for an early exam. Even though we both lived in London, it felt like we never saw one another anymore. Between my new semester at uni and Harry's rising fame with his solo career, it was hard to sit down with the familiarity of a childhood face even for one moment.

I had been in the middle of closing my apartment door and wrestling the keys out of the lock when I answered Harry's call last week. He had been in the states working with the band on the new album and had just received the news that he had a week off.

“And I felt that we have a lot of catching up to do,” he had chuckled through the phone and my heart had ached with longing for our hour long conversations. It had been too long since I had sat down with my best friend.

“We do,” I had sighed into the phone.

Harry and I had grown up next to each, our birthdays only being months apart. Every memory I had was branded with a piece of him in it. First day of year one, first stitches, first prom... All of it lived with him by my side. I didn't know a life without him until I moved away for uni and he became famous, spending months away from me in different countries. The invisible cord that kept us connected was pulled so taut it hurt.

But the aching was subsiding as I leaned into his chest right now in the train station, the cord snapping us back together as I hugged him like I did when I was younger.

“When did you get so buff?” I laughed, squeezing his bicep. “it hasn't been that long, has it?”

He pulled away to examine his arm with thoughtful eyes. With a humble shrug he gave a simple, “Eh.”

I rolled my eyes. He was still the same Harry I had always known, the one that rarely thought of himself and refused to believe he was nothing but the lanky, over-looked teenager he had once been.

He gave me a gentle nudge. “Let's go before people realize I'm here. I'd rather pictures of me not get out before I’ve had the chance to see my mum”

He put his hand at the bottom of my spine, guiding me out of the crowd toward the waiting taxi. A warm London breeze slipped its way between us, blowing my dark hair out of it's braid and around my face.

“How does an ever-waiting Buffy the Vampire marathon sound?” I asked, settling in the seat beside him and taking note of the new stubble contagiously making its way around his jawline.

An eyebrow raised and a boyish smirk lifting the corner of his mouth, he replied, “I assume that implies pizza rolls?”

“When have you ever been over to my apartment and not been graced with pizza rolls?” It was somewhat of a tradition of ours to eat pizza rolls together. Neither one of us being graced with the ability to cook well— and a tendency to always overcook things when we did try—our parents gave up and started buying us the only thing that couldn't be ruined with an oven timer. The late nights in my basement watching Friday the 13th—or any scary movie we could get our hands on from my dad's secret collection— and the smell of pizza rolls dancing through the air had been our favorite thing to do.

The taxi wove its way across the busy street towards the corner by the university where my apartment was located. A tiny brick complex with ivy running up the side and a rack of bikes chained out front. It was small and my neighbors were ultimately quiet—although their cigarette smell would sometimes drift up to my tiny balcony— I was content. It was the quietest part of London that I could find.

Harry followed me up the metal stairs to my door, his tall figure looking strange against my lame potted plants and worn out “welcome” mat in the entrance. Turning the key into the lock, I pushed it open, the familiar melody of creaking hinges inviting us in.

“Remind me to fix that for you,” he hummed, running his hand across the dry bolts that held it to the frame.

I rolled my eyes at his worry, closing the door behind us.

My place was small and cozy. A one-bedroom brick walled apartment with dark wooded floor and a simply tiled I'm-not-a-chef kitchen. Harry waltzed straight into my living room, kicking his boots off and tossing himself onto my brown leather couch.

“How's Elaine?” I asked while walking into the kitchen to dig out the pizza rolls, thinking of the pictures of Harry and his girlfriend of two years that he had posted lately. She was a big- time traveling dancer, hitting the Hollywood spotlight with him all the time. Although I had met her on plenty of occasions, we never really clicked besides the one mutual subject of Harry. I wasn't sure if she liked me or not or just finally accepted my occurring appearance in Harry's life, but she was pretty quiet when Harry and I wanted to hang out- no longer the original reaction when she was completely jealous.

“She's good,” he called back from my couch, the noise of the television surrounding his voice. “she's actually in New York right now for Justin Timberlake's tour that just started. I saw her last week.”

I nodded, slipping the tray into the oven. Sliding Harry's legs out of the way, I joined him on the couch where he had started a sitcom. He laid his feet back into my lap without skipping a beat, keeping his eyes glued to the TV.

“You never told me if you went on a second date with that Will bloke,” he said.

I grimaced. Will had been a guy I had met at the student center a couple of weeks back. He was… okay, a Nike wearing, gel-haired and ready-to-party kind of guy. With nothing to do for a Friday night, I had agreed to let him take me to a restaurant down the street. He had been pretty nice, opening the door for me and laughing at my lame jokes. We had even had a pretty heavy make-out session back at his place, a well-deserved orgasm and a cordial “see you around” when I made a hasty exit.

“Because I didn't,” I mumbled, playing with the hem of Harry's pants by his ankles.

“Why don't you ever date, Jules?” he asked with pure curiosity. “I see the way guys look at you, you know you're gorgeous, right?”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his last statement. “We didn't really hit it off, he wasn't that great. After I left his place… I just wasn’t feeling excited to see him again, y’know?”

“Left his place?” he inquired. “You went to his place.”

Shame settled in my eyes as I glanced down. While Harry was my best friend, I didn’t really disclose my sex life with him. I knew he had one and I’m sure he assumed I did as well. It just wasn’t something I ever felt was needed to be shared. I sighed, “Like I said… he wasn’t that great.”

His eyes glared into the side of my head until he used his foot to push my eyes to his, giving me a stare that was hard to place.

Swatting his foot away, I gave him an annoyed look.

He cleared his throat. “You say that about every guy,” he accused.

Trying to lighten the conversation, I poked him in the side. “I don't say that about you,” I added playfully.

He rolled his eyes and gave into our comfortable banter. “You're a mess.”

“You don't know how to true that is.”

 ….

“This was my favorite episode,” Harry said, nodding toward the TV and grabbing another steaming pizza roll off of the plate in front of us.

I watched as Buffy staked yet another vampire, not a hair out of place. “Mine too,” I agreed. “American television is just better in general.”

We had pushed my glass coffee table to the side of the room, dragging the comforter off my bed along with every one of the blankets I had in my closet onto the hardwood floor in front of the TV. Harry and I had huddled up with our backs against the couch, his long legs stretched in front of him and my ankles folded beneath me. I had a plate heaping with hot pizza rolls for us, Harry pushing one after another into his mouth.

“Do you remember in Grade 10 when you wore that hideous plaid skirt that went to your knees and no one talked to you for the rest of the day?” he asked, smirking at me over a pizza roll that had paused in front of his lips.

“Do you remember when you used to straighten your hair and would sing opera for every school talent show?” I rose an eyebrow at him.

He squinted his eyes at me, furrowing his brow.

I laughed, playfully hitting him in the arm. “It's okay because we were both losers together.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “We are quite the pair.”

He went to sink his teeth into the pizza roll, when it split in half and flung sauce across his face. His chin and cheeks tainted with the reddish sauce.

I laughed at the dumfounded look he gave me, my eyes watering and my side cramping. Harry's tongue flicked out to reach the sauce at the corner of his mouth, his eyes crinkling with concentration.

“Did I get it?” he asked, looking at me innocently.

I giggled and shook my head, scooting closer to him. “No, Harry... it's all over your face, bub.” I looked down as my laughter bubbled up again.

Crinkles around his eyes formed as he smiled at my laughing. “Well?” he asked. “Are you going to get it off of me?”

I licked my thumb and rubbed at the corner of his jaw. I knew Harry's face like the back of my hand, but looking this close at him within this moment he seemed different. I guess I never realized just how much he had actually matured. His jaw was structured, the valley of it dipping down to his chin and holding two full, pink lips. Lips that were slightly naturally pouted right now, parted and surrounded by pizza sauce. And the stubble he had let grow out below his nose and scattering itself back around his chin was something else entirely different— Harry wasn't that little boy anymore.

I knew he wasn’t a boy. There would be times he’d release new pictures from magazines, hair slicked back, shirtless, tattoos on display… but I tried not to linger too long on them. It was Harry. My Harry.

It made me think of the countless times we had gone places where people had mistaken us as a couple and our quiet denying, “No, no, we're just friends.” And I never questioned it. I never even thought differently until this moment.

Thoughtlessly, I ran my thumb across the valley of his bottom lip even though no pizza sauce resided there. His light green eyes watched me intently, but didn’t make any move to stop me.

This— this fluttery feeling erupted in my the pit of my stomach taking flight into my ribcage where my heart did this strange thing that didn't exactly feel like beating, but skipping or dancing or maybe even spinning.

With my thumb resting in the middle of his bottom lip, his mouth closed around me, framing my finger with a small kiss and it did strange things to my heart.

But he was my best friend and even though we technically weren't doing anything it was wrong to feel this way about Harry. He had Elaine and I... this wasn't supposed to be happening.

I removed my thumb from between his lips, brushing hurriedly on his chin for the rest of the remaining sauce.

“Um-” I stuttered, feeling shaky and almost way too light. “I- uh- I.” I cleared my throat and looked down as red rose to my cheeks- I have never blushed in front of Harry before.

He released a long breath that he must have been holding, not letting his eyes leave my face.

Wiping my hands on my leggings, I shakily said, “I think I got it all off.”

“Jules, I-”

“I'm sorry, I just... you know. Spaced out for a second... there.” I nodded with myself.

He sat up straighter, holding his chin an inch higher. “Jules, I need to tell you something,” he stated, his voice rough.

I put my hands between my knees to prohibit them from doing anything else without my knowledge and nodded for him to continue, he looked so distressed.

“I um-” he cleared his throat. “The reason I wanted to see you this week was...” His eyes flicked away from mine to anything else in the room.

I narrowed my eyes at him, confused by what he was about to say. Usually I could read him so well but after what just happened... I didn't know.

“I'm going to propose to Elaine,” he said, looking at his hands resting in his lap.

My heart chipped at the edges, but I wasn't sure why. He was my best friend... shouldn't I be happy for him?

“Harry-” my voice cracked, but I couldn't let it. I couldn't let whatever I was feeling get in the way for Harry to have everything he had ever wanted out of life. And nothing even happened, it wasn't like we kissed or anything. It was just a stupid thing that I got carried away with because I didn't realize how incredibly attractive he was. That was it, that's all.

I pushed a pained smile onto my face, refusing to let it crack any piece of me. “Harry... That's... Great- lovely. I'm so happy for you.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me, letting his arms slip around my waist and his warm breath to brush my neck.

“I'm glad, Jules... Because if you wouldn't be okay with it, I don't know what I would have done,” he murmured, his prickly cheek brushing against mine.

“Why wouldn't I be okay with it, Harry?” I asked, trying to push the aching away into a far corner of my mind where it would never be invited over again. “You're my best friend. I want you to be happy… no matter what.” Even if my confused feelings suffered.

“I don't know... I didn't want you to think that if I married Elaine she would be the only woman in my life,” he said. “I wanted you to understand that you could still be there, you know. Even if we couldn't hang out all the time.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing out my next words. “Harry. You're like my brother, there's no way I can be pushed completely out of the picture.”

I wasn't sure if I felt him pull me tighter or if I wanted him too.

 …

I laid with my back to Harry on my living room floor, a warm blanket tucked tightly around me and my ears heightened to hear his soft snores. We had both talked a little while longer about me wanting to be a psychologist and him wondering if fame had completely altered his personality. And after a few pizza rolls later, I agreed with him that I was tired and rolled over when I saw his eyes were officially closed. I wasn't tired though, rather awake and alert and buzzing with electricity. Here was my best friend who was in love with his soon to be fiance' and here I was hoping silently that maybe he would chang his mind. Maybe he realized that... I don't know- I don't know what I wanted.

I wanted him to be happy, I was one hundred percent certain with every cell in my body that I wanted Harry Styles to receive all of the love he himself gave into the world. I wanted Elaine— or any girl— to wake up next to him every morning thinking of different ways to love him that day. He deserved all the goodness you could find in the earth's heart multiplied by ten. He needed someone to assure him when he doubted himself- because he usually did- someone to rub his muscled shoulder and tell him he didn't need to worry about things out of his control.

I sighed, hoping and praying to God that Elaine realized this. That she realized he wore his heart on his sleeve and was perfectly fine with it being torn into shreds.

Harry stirred in his sleep, turning onto his side facing me and mumbling something incoherent. I rolled over, taking in his peaceful sleeping face and wondering if this was the last time we could ever sleep next to each other without Elaine getting in the way.

Harry moved closer to me, resting his chin on the top of my head, my ear pressed to his chest where the melody of a steady beat rang through. And that's where I fell asleep, listening to the only thumping of anyone's blood I cared to hear.

***

“Want eggs? I know how to make those now,” I asked Harry who was just starting to open his eyes from sleep, stretching his large arms out around him.

I had woken up with my head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around me. Quickly, without waking him, I had slid out and went to my room to sit on my bed and think of the cold absence from where I had been folded around him. I had been awake thinking for a while now when he finally started opening his eyes.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice nicely groggy from sleep, a silky melodious sound that I lived for. “yeah that sounds nice.”

I gave him a smile, loving the messiness of his hair and the droop of his eyes.

Harry shoveled plenty of my poor eggs into his mouth, he had always had an appetite and being a man didn't lessen that one bit. We lightly talked over coffee, Harry saying he wanted to look at some of the jewelry stores in town and wanted my input on rings for Elaine. I politely agreed and gave him a smile, even though it physically pained me.

Later, I tossed my hair up into a high ponytail, pulling my feet into a pair of chunky sneakers and a warm gray oversized sweater. The temperature had dropped in London and small drizzle was falling over the sidewalks.

I followed Harry down my apartment steps to the waiting taxi on the side of the street. He said he knew of a jewelry store on the edge of town where no paparazzi would bother us.

The small rain was still falling when we got out and I glanced through the glass windows to sparkling rings sitting on velvet cushions. Harry's eyes brightened as I walked in behind him into the immediate blast of the warm heater from the store.

“I don't know what kind of a ring to get her... There's so many,” he sighed, eyes passing over the diamonds in the cases.

As much as I didn't want to give my honest input, I knew he needed my help. I rubbed his arm thoughtfully, sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow to glance over his shoulder. The butterflies erupted again in my stomach, but I pushed them away. “What does she like?” I asked. “Does she want something flashy...? Thoughtful...?” I dusted my eyes over the yellow diamonds. “Unique?”

Harry looked nervous, eyes skipping from one ring to the next and before eventually shrugging.

“Looking for a wedding ring, loves?” said a balding man in a blazer walking from behind the counter. Leaning on the case in front of us, he looked between Harry and I with expectant eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” Harry told him, giving a slight chuckle. “and already failing.”

I sighed. “You're overthinking it. Don't worry too much,” I said, giving him an encouraging smile.

The man gazed over at us, a soft grin on his face. “Well, let's start with what you like, love,” he said, looking at me.

I stared at him for a second, slightly confused. Then, when it registered, I detached myself from Harry, shaking my head. “No, no, no, we aren't... together,” I said through a shaky laugh.

“She's my friend,” Harry told him, wringing his hands together.

The man nodded. “Yes, lad, so sorry. You lot just seem as if you were already married.” Gesturing to the two of us before moving on to a selection of rings. “If you see we have...”

I didn't hear what he said after that, because the thought of Harry here for me made my heartbeat impossibly fast.

It was a strange thing. Having a single moment that changed the way you looked at a person. Here I was, walking down the street with someone I've known my entire life—and here I was hoping that I would walk too close and our arms would brush just a little, just so I could feel him for a small moment.

I didn't want to feel this way. Even as his fingertips brushed mine, I knew it was wrong, but  why did everything feel so natural?

Harry led us to a cafe behind a few business buildings where the rain had finally died down. He had been quiet since we had left the store empty handed. I told him if nothing immediately reminded him of her, just to sleep a night and go back tomorrow, eventually he nodded and let me drag him out for lunch.

We sat at a table outside, the slick wind slipping up and around us, raising goosebumps across my arms.

“Why didn't you wear a coat?” Harry asked, looking away from the dreary sky to my awaiting eyes.

“I didn't realize hell was freezing over,” I mumbled, crossing my arms.

He sighed and slid off his coat. “And yet, this isn't the first time I've scolded you for not bringing a coat,” he said, giving me a little smile that warmed my heart after his previous sad attitude. “Here.” He nodded toward his leather jacket.

I've lost too many arguments on this subject before, so I greedily took it and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders, breathing in his cologne.

The waiter brought out our food and I didn't hesitate to hungrily pour sauce across my fries, listening to my stomach growl in response.

A loose piece of hair glided across my face from the gentle breeze, sliding across my plate and succeeding in smearing sauce across my cheek.

I gasped. “How did that even happen?” I mumbled under my breath, grimacing as I attempted to clean my hair of the food.

Harry chuckled, taking in my disheveled appearance before leaning across the table and removing the hair from my eyes and tucking it gently away. The tips of his fingers lingered behind my ear for a second too long before he removed it to wipe away the ketchup at the corner of my mouth. His thumb gliding across my cheek.

His eyes met mine and this strange unsaid feeling drifted in the space between us like someone I've never met. The pad of his thumb resting below the corner of my lips.

He swallowed. “Why do we keep ending up in these kind of situations,” he murmured, his voice low and unlike the Harry I was used to interacting with.

I grabbed his hand, turning slightly to lay a kiss into his palm and watched for his reaction. His eyes stayed on me and flickered with something that I've never seen in him before. “I don't know,” I replied back, my voice as soft as the inside of his hand.

He sighed. “Jules, I don't know what you're doing to me.”

I furrowed my brow. “I'm not doing anything.” I didn't know what was happening between us either these past few days, but if it caused Harry to look at me like that then the confusion was worth it.

He chuckled softly. “You're so clueless,” he murmured, but then dropped his hand to continue eating, leaving me feeling electrified and wanting to know what he meant.

The day went on like that. We would talk for a bit—never about the engagement— then we would brush hands or Harry would lean into me, everything taunting me and pulling this thought out of the far corner of my mind.

We had been walking down the sidewalk towards my apartment, our boots splashing in the puddles and my hands in the pockets of Harry's coat when he looked up suddenly, nodding towards the sky.

“Look, it's a rainbow,” he smiled.

I stopped and turned towards it, the colors skyrocketing from behind a building.

“Aren't they the strangest thing?” I asked him, not taking my eyes off of it. “They are just so beautiful.”

He didn't answer and I glanced back over my shoulder to see if he was still standing beside me. He was. His eyes glued to my face as if I held every answer in the world.

“Harry, why are you staring at me?” I whispered, pink painting my cheeks.

A bright smile immediately hit his lips. “Did I just make you, Julia Rebecca Lovewick, blush?” He looked back up, a smile of pure pride beaming on his face.

“You were staring at me like there was something on my face,” I replied. “and I was just embarrassed because the waiter was really cute and I couldn’t have that.” I gave him a smirk to hide the fading blush.

Crinkles appeared onto his forehead. “You're such a quick thinker.” He shook his head, beginning to walk again.

“You think I'm lying.”

“I know you're lying,” he said.

“Besides the fact that our waiter was totally checking me out,” I replied, his eyes rolling. “Why were you even staring at me?”

It was his turn for the tips of his ears to turn rosy.

“Oh my goodness!” I yelled, covering my mouth with my hand. “Did I just make Harry Edward Styles blush?” I shrieked, mocking him and stopping to stare at his annoyed expression.

He rolled his eyes yet again and continued to walk, trying to ignore me.

“You were looking at me because I'm beautiful, weren't you?” I said, jogging to catch up with him and giving him a wink.

“I thought we established I was looking at you because you have something on your face.” He still refused to make eye contact with me.

I grabbed his arm and spun him around to face me. “Just admit it, Harry. You've been caught,” I said, giving him a smirk. “You think I'm pretty.”

“I think you're a lot of things, Jules.” He popped an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

I tilted my head, silently asking him to go on.

He threw his arms into the air. “You act like you don't know you're absolutely gorgeous!”

I smiled. “I do know,” I told him, starting to walk again. “It's just always nice to hear it.”

We climbed the steps and stopped in front of my door. Turning around to face him, I said, “You know, you are pretty fit yourself.” I gave him an eye-up sarcastically, sliding my keys into the lock to hear him fall into a fit of laughter.

We walked into my apartment, both still laughing, where I immediately pulled the ponytail from my hair and shook out my dark waves. “That feels fantastic,” I laughed throwing the rubber band across the room.

Harry walked up behind me, taking me by surprise by running his hand through the ends of my hair, the laughter still visible around his eyes. “You should really wear it down more often, I like it better this way,” he murmured, looking up to meet my eyes.

I wasn't sure, but I think Harry was flirting with me.

“And I like it when you don't shave for a couple of days,” I told him, running the back of my fingers across the line of his jaw.

He wrinkled his nose. “Really? I like it but Elaine hates it,” he said and I dropped my hand, shamefully thinking of his girlfriend.

Harry and I were just friends, that was it. So why was I walking such a thin line?

My heart was pounding as I walked into my bedroom, the ringing in my ears increasing. I could feel it. Plain as day and cutting my heart into two, I had a crush on Harry. Maybe it was because he was about to be officially taken or because of the way his hair parted gracefully down the middle. This feeling that has been passing between us today couldn't have been one sided. If I knew Harry, I knew that he was acting completely different around me as well.

I didn't want Harry to leave me. I didn't want him to marry someone and absolutely disappear out of my life. What would I do without him? I had friends that I casually talked to or caught coffee with but Harry was the only one who I shared my thoughts. The only one who cared enough to know if I disliked the smell of cinnamon or the artificial taste of bananas in candy.

My heart was sounding in my ears and an unusual discomfort eating its way through my chest. I couldn't breathe, my lungs weren't collecting air.

He couldn't marry someone, not when I've just developed this crush on him. Not when I've realized that falling in love with your best friend could be the most natural thing in the entire world.

I felt like the world was closing in on me. The walls shrinking in and molding themselves around my neck and chest cutting my oxygen off.

I heard a voice, muddled and underwater, lift to my ears. I couldn't make out the words or syllables, but he was here. I could feel it.

There was something I was clutching, a corner of a desk or maybe a bed frame... I didn't know. Everything was blurry and running together like colors on a canvas. My hand gripped into the fabric in front of my heart, almost as if to catch it if it decided to jump out.

There were hands on me, clutching and pulling me up. Pulling me through the surface of suffocation and closing walls to the fresh air of my bedroom. Back to the present.

All I could hear were the repeating words, “I've got you. You're okay. You are right here, Jules. Do you feel this? That's me. I'm real and I've got you.”

I was closed in Harry's arms, the opposite of claustrophobia taking place and the choking fear subsiding in my throat. The warm skin of his forearms pressing me to his chest where his heartbeat was pulsing.

“Listen to my voice, Jules,” he murmured, brushing his fingers through my hair. “Match your breathing to mine. Just like that.”

And I did, I focused on his words and exhaled with him before taking a deep breath. We did that for a couple of minutes, standing there in the middle of my floor wrapped tightly in his arms both of us rising and falling together.

“Are you okay?” he mumbled, his thumb brushing underneath my eyes where I felt the moisture of uninvited tears.

I nodded, shaking from the incident and because I was slightly embarrassed. “I- I don't know what happened.”

His large hand brushed up and down my back, combing his fingers through the hair near my spine. “I think you had a panic attack,” he said and let out a long breath. “Jules, you scared me to death... I didn't know what to do.”

“Whatever you did worked,” I muttered, working around the shakiness of my voice. I closed my eyes tight into his chest. “it brought me back.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around me, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head quickly, I didn't want to feel that way again.

“Okay...” He held my cheeks gently, pulling me back to look me over. His thumbs brushed the edges of my face, his fingers following suit and caressing across the length of my cheekbone. He used his other hand to tuck my hair behind my ear.

I leaned into his open palm, taking note of the warm feeling of home it left me with.

“Jules, I...” He didn't finish what he was about to say because I was looking into his eyes and suddenly realized he was leaning towards me.

His lips pressing flush against mine, my heart fluttering towards the sky. Parting my mouth with his and fireworks taking place behind my closed eyes. Harry kissed me softly, his hands cradling my face and the strangest feeling being built inside of me.

My heart was beating too fast and I pulled gently back to catch my breath. Eyelashes fluttering open, I made contact with the dark eyes that were staring down at me, waiting for a reaction.

“Harry...” I didn't know what to say. I had just been shaking over the idea that this feeling was one-sided, that I was alone. Then he goes and does something like this...

“Don't, it's okay. I didn't mean—” he broke off and let go of my face, his hands falling limply at his side. “I was just too caught up in the moment and still shaken up over what just happened.” He took a step away from me.

I couldn't stop myself. “So you kissed me?” I didn't mean for it to sound so ungrateful, because I was still floating from the memory of his lips on mine.

He wrung his hands out, a nervous gesture he tended to do. “I'm so sorry...”

“Harry-” my voice cracked. “don't be sorry-”

“I'm going to go,” he said, and rushed out of my room.

No. I wasn't going to let him walk away thinking that I thought it was a mistake. I quickly followed him down the hallway where he was pushing his boots onto his feet in the living room.

“Let's just forget about it, okay?” he said, his back to me as he laced the strings.

“No-”

“It was a mistake, I just wasn't thinking-”

“Harry!” I yelled loud enough for him to turn around and see my angered expression. “Shut the fuck up!”

He stood across from me, the distance maybe ten feet or so but the electricity buzzing quickly through as if we were pressed together. His clouded eyes stayed on me, waiting for some kind of answer that I could provide that could solve the way we were feeling, something that could ease his pain from being with Elaine but still being able to look at me the way he is now.

But I didn't have an answer like he thought I always did, because I was new here too. So, I stood there like an idiot- just staring at him, thumping my brain for some form of words.

He sighed and gave a single nod, before grabbing his coat and turning towards the door.

It was then that everything happened in slow motion.

His hand, resting on the doorknob. My feet, walking quickly across the floor to him. Because I had realized then that I had no words to say�� none at all.

I grabbed his face in my hands, turning him around to look at me. Not giving him a split second before I pushed my lips against his.

I wrote this on Wattpad when I was FIFTEEN YEARS OLD! I’m 21 now and thought this story deserved a fair chance. I tried my best to edit some, but it’s still a bit rough. Let me know what you think and if I should post the second part- HINT, the second part is already written, I just have to upload it ;)

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 6: Mr. Robot 4x04

Watched another ep of Mr. Robot today! It was the only thing I accomplished outside of the work day (not bitter about that AT ALL lol) but I did it.

This episode was SO atmospheric. Like, not that the other episodes aren’t, but that was my primary impression of it as a whole. Elliot, Mr. Robot, and Tyrell wandering around in the woods through the snow, and on the side of the highway, in the moonlight, with howling animals in the distance... Very desolate and beautiful. I was into it.

I’m not a Tyrell fan but having him as an Elliot minion is probably his best use imo. And I actually appreciated his incredibly Dramatic nature today. Like to the point that I kind of wanted him and Elliot to be friends? Even though prior to this I never thought their relationship was objectively anything special outside of Tyrell’s head. Like he obviously has a crush on Elliot (or possibly Mr. Robot) but that never seemed requited on any level--not just in the sense that Elliot is straight, in the sense that he didn’t seem to enjoy Tyrell’s company at all and didn’t really seem to... get Tyrell. (Or maybe I’m projecting lol.) Anyway, I’m vaguely aware that there was a subset of fans who thought their relationship, however defined, was Very Important and I occasionally wondered if Tyrell and Elliot scenes were specifically catering to them, at least a little bit. I felt similarly about some of the dialogue in this ep, but also vindicated by it, because it basically confirmed my reading. But it also made me sad about it! Like it’s true Tyrell really does honestly like Elliot. Maybe they could have worked something out, friendship wise.

That said... not exactly sad to see Tyrell go. He’d basically reached the end of his story line, he got a great final episode and some significant scenes with Elliot, kinda concluding their own personal story, and he got to walk off into the snowy, wintry, full-moon mist like the Drama Ho he is. Plus whatever that last scene with him ‘walking toward the light’ was. Not sure if that was supposed to be symbolic, a feverish hallucination, or something else. Cool enough aesthetic though.

I was a little wary of Darlene’s story line because Darlene in a car with a sappy, drunk Councilman Jamm, I mean Tobias the Santa, hearing his sad stories, is... a little on the nose, a little too depressing for me. I can’t really explain. It’s like at the crossroads of cliche and grim. BUT the plot twist at the end--that made it more than worth it. He was just being maudlin while drunk and she was projecting all of her own fears about Elliot’s suicidal ideation on him. I also loved his super-Christmas-y house. Like...yeah he really just is drunk! And that’s why he’s so weird. Otherwise, he’s just a good guy, who loves Christmas decorations, loves his wife, does good things for kids, is into Christmas movies... and is even willing to be nice to Darlene and encouraging. It was like weirdly heartwarming. Basically exactly what you’d expect from a Mr. Robot Christmas.

Then there’s Dom. Oh, Dom. I have to say, I’ve always really liked the scenes where she’s being emo in the dark in her apartment and I liked this one, too. Cannot believe she’s rubbing one out to Darlene’s interrogation video. True love lmao. I really did think that the RL encounter with the “woman” was real until the point where she became Dark Army. That’s probably on me because it is very unrealistic but like... I don’t know, it was vaguely plausible. I think Dom might really be that reckless, especially in her current state. And... idk people can be fake on the internet?? I don’t know. Again, as with the Darlene twist, it worked better as a dream. I hope that scene of Dom washing her face at the end was meant to be a bit of a turning point for her. I want her to be okay!

The scene at the gas station was legitimately hilarious. “I didn’t know you were on Big Brother!”

AU where Tyrell goes on Big Brother.

It also amused me how Elliot continuously spoke as if they were three people (”all our phones” instead of “both of our phones,” not that he and Tyrell don’t probably have more than one, for example) even though physically speaking, there are only two bodies experiencing this adventure.

I loved the music at the end: it was a really great combination of Christmas-y and creepy. Like the soundtrack to a Christmas horror movie or something.

I’m still a little uncertain about structuring the last season as basically a new hack (exactly what Esmail chose not to do in S2), one last big bad to take down. Like on the one hand, you basically have to do that in order to not only have a coherent season, but have a coherent final season, with a satisfying ending. But on the other hand, this is a show that has staked so much on its own complexity, on showing the vast ripples of unintended consequences in a highly connected world, and on fully acknowledging the realities of power and money, and their effects on the protagonists and their plans. Like, it’s not satisfying to see Elliot lose. And it’s also not satisfying to see a villain as great as whiterose taken down with anything like ease. Not that it’s been easy thus far. I don’t know. I’m probably judging WAY too early. I still have quite a few episodes before the finale.

I really expected Darlene and Elliot to meet up in this episode, at the end. It might have been a little too deus ex machina if they did, but that said I expect they’ll find each other early in the next ep, since they seem to be together for it (based on the summary).

I think this season is doing a really good job of emphasizing the themes of each episode, as shown in the titles, of keeping each episode relatively simple and tying all the story lines together. And not relying TOO much on narration to do it (since I’m not that into the Mr. Robot voice overs still tbh). The concept of searching for what can’t be found, and the parallel but never meeting journeys of the Alderson siblings at the center of the story, was really deftly done.

Elliot and Darlene remain the Most Important.

[drawbauchery]

It All Started With A Flower

(fic by cartoons-tothemoon)

It all started with a flower.

The flower wasn’t poisonous to the touch, or venomous, or covered with spikes. It didn’t shoot a toxin, or come with a chainsaw attached, or even have a return address belonging to a frenemy of days long since past.

It was just…A flower. A flower that was found on the kitchen table in a blue vase one morning, that no one had any clue where it could have come from.

Kowalski said it was a bluebell, but that was the extent of his knowledge about it.

Rico said something about Julien placing it there, but Julien rarely left the comfort of his room, and preferred to express his affection for others with more…carnal means.

Skipper ignored it when it was first found within their lair, and seemed to express an indifference towards it ever since.

Private was the only one with anything to say on the matter, and that was a simple “I like it! Ties the room together, don’t ya think?” and moving the vase closer to a window. This would normally implicate him, but, Private’s played the game of double cross and triple cross quite well before, and quite well. He didn’t seem to be lying about this, though, there was a hint of sadness on his features as he moved the flower to follow the sun after lunch.

“It’s kind of sad how it’s probably going to die in a week.” He remarked to Skipper, who got stuck with dish duty after Rico was sent to time-out for being horny on main and Kowalski bolting after lunch to return to his work, claiming a breakthrough. At least Private stuck around to dry. “Without its roots, all it can do is just slowly wither and decay and all I can do is prolong its misery.”

“Well, thank goodness plants don’t have feelings.”

“It’s still alive.” Private shrugged. “I guess it’d feel nice to have something to care for at the base. Something I can sustain outside of myself. I don’t know, does that sound weird.”

Skipper, in all of his benevolent wisdom simply responded with an “I don’t know,” as well. Because really, what does he know? And what was he going to say? Skipper’s always wanted to have a dog on base, like a golden retriever or German shepherd, but only the A-teams at the agency are allowed to have animals on their bases, and, let’s face it; they aren’t the A-team.

Private shrugged. “Well, at least it’ll look nice while it lasts. Maybe I should pick up a cactus or something…” He muttered before leaving a washcloth on the counter, and Skipper to stack the dishes, as both became divided in their own thoughts, and lost among them as they continued to carry on with their days. Skipper glanced towards the bluebell, the meaning not lost on him.

———

Private, like usual, was very close to being right, but not. Thanks to his attention and care, the uprooted plant was able to thrive for 11 days, though those last 3 days certainly seemed to be a losing battle on the plant’s part. It had to be tossed after that, but not before Private had a moment of silence with the fragile thing before throwing it away.

It was a shame, really. He tried hard with that thing, but maybe he didn’t try hard enough? Maybe his prospects were doomed from the start, and it would’ve been quicker to have left well enough alone, but at least he still tried with it, after all, doesn’t that mean something?

He really didn’t know how to take it, but considering nobody else really thought much of it, more likely to be a mix-up in a delivery than anything actually meaningful, he decided to take it for what it was, so to speak.

Until it happened again the next morning.

———

“Kowalski, analysis.”

“I can only type so fast, Skipper, you think I know this stuff at the top of my head? Aha! Acacia blossoms.”

It could be called deja vu, in a way, but it could also be remarked upon as a bit of a remix, as the plant arrived in a pot this time around, a much more sustainable way of growing it and allowing it to flourish, which Private seemed to be excited about, though he tried not to show it.

“Is it poisonous?”

Kowalski snorted. “Only if you ground up the leaves with glycosides could you make SOMETHING like hydrogen cyanide, which I DID know at the top of my head, but, otherwise, the plant poses no harm to us.”

“So, what have you been looking up?”

“Other aspects surrounding the plant, once is a coincidence, twice is happenstance, and if it happens three times, we’ll have a pattern. Both the bluebells and acacia have an interesting history in herbal remedies and flower language, I might have to look into it later…” Kowalski muttered while pulling leaves off the plant.

“Be careful with it!” Private bemoaned, blocking Kowalski’s hands from ripping into more leaves. “It’s fragile.”

“Look, you boys can toss the bouquet around all you want, but I want this table clean before I’m done making breakfast.” Skipper said, breaking the two up on his way into the kitchen, Rico following - probably on his way to burn some toast and discuss a mission they were pulling off that night- leaving Kowalski and Private to their lonesome.

“I…apologize for being so rough with the plant, but, if you’re able to sustain it, being able to branch out in our weapon’s department could be a huge help.”

“I’m ignoring all that other stuff,” Private said, “but are you sure you want me to grow it?  Wouldn’t you be better at it, what with all the sciences you’re into?”

“Private. Just because I’m a scientist doesn’t mean I study the entirety of anything scientific. My knowledge of botany and other soft sciences is comparatively lacking compared to my physics and chemistry knowledge, and, well, you’re the softest person I know.” Kowalski ruffled his hair at that, and Private giggled. “I even know a place where you could grow it if we really want to expand this option.”

“Really?

———

“I didn’t even know we had a greenhouse.” Skipper muttered as Private guided him inside after a few hours of work inside. Apparently, Marlene had promised him the apartment next door rent-free if Kowalski could find a way to restore the value that her apartment complex  had somewhat lost due to letting the four + Julien and company live there. The task force had no idea what he did, but apparently it brought the value back tenfold, and so, Kowalski had created a doorway between the two apartments, and inside such a place, one room was dedicated to being a green house.

It was an amazing deal for both of them, which, all things considered, was a pretty rare win-win all around for the task force.

“I didn’t either!” Private said, and after practically dragging him inside, Private flitted around the place like an over-eager honeybee. “I set up the acacia plant in an area where it’ll get the most light, but I just finished setting up the sprinkler system, and oh! These are some of the beds I’ve set up, and apparently Kowalski found some soil in the warehouse and-“

Skipper watched fondly as Private babbled on and on about the flowers and the vegetables that could be grown here, and he could practically see the vision that Private himself was so excited about when he felt a tap on the shoulder.

“Skipper, I found a parallel between our deliveries.” Kowalski said, in a sort of tone that read as urgent but also mad? Skipper was at least a little familiar with it, but, he couldn’t really place it. Skipper gestured a vague goodbye to Private as he forced Kowalski back down the hallway which he came.

“What?”

“They’re wildflowers. Not normally bought in flower shops. Both are native to New York.”

“Alright, so whoever’s sending them is right inside our home state, the one with 8 million people in it?” Skipper said. “That narrows it down a LOT.”

“Why didn’t you want me to say this in front of Private?”

“It’s not like I’m psychic, Kowalski, I didn’t know what you were going to say. I half-figured you were going to crush the kid’s spirit.”

“Does that sound like something I’d do?”

“You do a lot of rather strange things rather unintentionally.”

“Sir, this isn’t the kind of thing to be brushed off. If it isn’t from someone we know, then it’s from someone we DON’T, and that means that that someone is capable of getting into our secret base? Isn’t it usually your job to panic about these things?”

“I don’t panic.”

“I’m sorry, sir, you don’t panic, but you don’t seem all that worried about finding out who’s sending them.”

“When we know, we’ll know. At this point, it’s more likely that it’s a flower delivery gone wrong than it is a malicious plot of some sort. And if it is, we’ll handle it.” Skipper shrugged.

“Skipper, are you even listening to me? I just said-“ It was at this point that Skipper just began walking away from the conversation. If Kowalski was so passionate about this conversation, it would be easy for him to continue, but the sea of apathy and disinterest that came off of Skipper in that moment seemed to make the entire effort fruitless.

Skipper wasn’t all that worried about him, though. He’s a smart guy. He’ll figure it out.

If he didn’t find out sooner, he’d find out later.

———

The mission was pulled off without a hitch, and was one completed with ease. Of course, it’s always easier to manage one person than it is three, and not to knock Rico, but he was easier to work with than most as he didn’t ask that many questions. Of course, maybe that made him all the smarter all things considered. Skipper would still have to bribe him to keep quiet after all.

It was 7:00 in the morning, far too early to be up, but going back to sleep only to be woken up incredibly irritable would be rather suspicious considering he was the first one to “fall asleep” that night. Skipper put a special brew of coffee on, one that he made when he needed it especially strong after an especially rough night. Everything had to be accounted for. The men he worked with were always on edge, so if the slightest thing was off, something would be said. Something almost always was a little off, but, whether they caught it or not was always a little up in the air. In a way it made Skipper almost proud, and coming back from these sort of missions was a fun test for him as well as the crew to see if they could figure anything out, and if Skipper could keep them from figuring anything out.

It was all in good fun, surely, Skipper thought as he scrubbed his hands underneath the kitchen sink to remove any excess dirt from his skin and nails. Kowalski would catch something surely if he was sloppy like that. The wildcard in this scenario was the fact that Rico was involved, and Rico did not possess the same kind of urgency as Skipper did in this instance.

Still, he trusted him enough. That’s what made Rico such a valuable ally. Rico was reliable like that.

Eventually, the coffee had finally reached its perfect temperature and Skipper got to pour himself the perfect cup on a quiet morning, where the orange still hadn’t faded from the sky and the moon was still a faint sliver.

Of course, no matter how reliable Rico was, no matter how unsuspicious he seemed, no matter how he dotted every “i” that he feasibly could, there was no stopping someone who was already suspicious.

“Alright, where is it?” Kowalski asked dryly, it looked like he didn’t sleep a wink all night, and given that he was still in his clothes from yesterday, it showed.

“Hmm?” Skipper hummed, taking a sip from his cup, really savoring that bitter flavor.

“Don’t play dumb here, Skipper. Where’s the plant?”

Naturally, Kowalski was expecting him to say “what plant?” next, if he really was so committed to playing dumb. Instead, however, he replied with “which plant?”

“Which plant?” He echoed, and Skipper’s eyes widened slightly in realization at his slip up.

Shit.

“What do you mean by which-?” Kowalski began to say, but was cut off by the sound of frantic running, only to see Private in the doorway in his pajamas moments later.

“You have to see the greenhouse!” He said, with eagerness in his voice.

———

“Alright, so, first thing’s first, I get up, right? And I was going to grab breakfast, but I figured I should go care for the Acacias, right? But when I open up the door, this is what I see!” Private said, opening the door to reveal a few rows of various flowers already planted within the soil, a few flourishing vegetable plants here and there, a few empty rows for Private to with what he wished, and even a section dedicated to poisonous plants.

“Everything’s at the ready! It’s like I have my own little garden fairy looking out for me!” Private beamed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Skipper looked at Rico. Rico looked at Kowalski. Kowalski glared at Skipper.

“It looks very nice, Private.” Skipper said, sipping from his mug to keep a smile from showing through. Kowalski raised an eyebrow at him, but seemed to drop it as he took the time to peruse the flowers.

“Acacias, Pink Camellias, Gardenias, Primroses…Very nice selection indeed.” Kowalski murmured, and Private smiled in his direction.

“You know their names?” Private said, heading towards Kowalski to peer at a Daffodil that was peeking a wilting head out of the soil.

“I’ve been doing a lot of research on flowers as of late. We should consider planting some plants that can be used as herbal remedies in here, as well.”

“Oh! That sounds like a great idea! My Uncle Nigel used lavender oil on cuts and bruises all the time!”

Skipper and Rico watched as they tittered away happily.

“Th-This really w-what you w-wanted?”

Skipper shrugged.

“It’s not like I didn’t think this was going to happen.” He stated plainly, though his brows were creased severely. “The first time was a fluke.”

The two stayed silent for a moment.

“F-Fourth time’s a charm?”

“Nah. But, it was nice to do this. Couldn’t do it without you.” Skipper shrugged, giving Rico a fist bump that Kowalski definitely caught sight of, but it’s not like he was going to do anything about it.

———

“So, did you know that all the flowers you were planting mean secret or unrequited love?”

“Flowers mean things?”

(Hey! I’m back. It seemed too late in the month for a mistletoe fic, and although originally I wanted to do something with flowers for Valentine’s day, it just felt like too long of a wait. So, I wanted to do something with flower language, because there’s nothing more romantic than being secretive, until I realized that nobody seriously invests their time in Victorian flower languages except fan fiction romance writers, so…Here we are.)

[joonclouds]

A space situation

You sigh heavily and shut your eyes. The man was so intelligent, but days like this you wonder if sometimes his brain took unpaid leave.

“My house is literally a third the size of your closet.”

If this wasn’t your house you might have found it a little bit funny. But it is your house.

- 

Joon is your very rich very endearing sugar daddy but also very clumsy and sometimes rash in buying you whatever what he sees fit but it’s not very practical all the time. 

Namjoon x Reader

Genre: It’s a fluff party guys

Word Count: 3k

Note: Quarantine can be inspiring lol

- 

You don’t know you’re smiling, but it’s there. A tiny little smile lingering on your face as you watch the man in your kitchen from your crummy two-seater couch that barely fits into your living room.

It’s not a sight you’ll ever get used to seeing, you think, Namjoon with his designer suits and perfectly swept back hair, fumbling around in the drawers. He was wearing that new Dior shirt you had picked out for him last week.

When he’d came in to your dingy apartment, he’d removed his (probably very expensive) cufflinks and tossed them in your countertop dish.

“You shouldn’t treat your things so carelessly,” you chastised, taking them from the dish and moving them somewhere safer. Even in the cheap incandescent light, the large stones twinkle softly and you wondered how much they cost.

“They’re very pretty.”

‘What?” He’d glanced up briefly from his phone to see what you were holding. “Oh you like those? I can send them to my jeweler and get them set into earrings for you if you want.”

You nearly drop the cufflinks.

-

When he stands he bumps his head on an open cabinet.

He’s a bit befuddled for a moment and sends the cabinet door a look, but it quickly melts into a grin when he hears you giggle.

“Hey, don’t laugh. I’m six foot and this kitchen is literally made for someone who’s like five-nothing.”

God, you wanted to take a swim in those dimples.

You get off the couch and walk over, opening the second drawer to pull out a whisk and offer it to him.

“You’re the one who wanted to come to the dump which is my apartment, Joon.” It’s a matter-of-fact tone, but you can’t hide the twinkle in your eyes.

“I wanted to make you that dalgona coffee thing. But I don't have instant coffee at home. I didn’t know if it works with normal espresso.”

“You’re telling me you have a thirteen thousand dollar coffee machine at your place, and no instant coffee.”

Namjoon makes a face. “Instant coffee tastes like dishwater.”

You grab the bottle of instant coffee and shove it in his face.

“I love it.”

Namjoon shakes his head and grabs the glass jar from you, delivering a swift peck on your cheek.

“I love you.”

You blush, one hand going up to cup your face. To hell with butterflies in your stomach, this man truly gave the zoo a run for its money.

-

You’d met him while waitressing at one of those fancy fundraiser gala dinners. It paid the best, and between struggling to feed yourself and those overdue college bills, you were ready to swallow your pride and deal with the pompous crowd for a little while.

Namjoon had always thought it was a blessing he’d survived thirty three years not having broken a bone (well, he’s caused other people to break their bones, but that doesn’t count.) But that night, accidentally spilling his wine on you was the one time Namjoon ever felt truly lucky that he was a clumsy oaf.

You looked like a little deer, flustered and apologising, reaching for the nearest stack of napkins to fuss over the cuff of his jacket, when he should have been the one apologising to you. The two of you at a later point have recounted this first meeting and you still can’t believe he finds it hilarious that you were horrified, on the verge of tears because you thought he’d expect you to pay for his jacket.

Though you later understand why he’d find that funny. One thing more genuinely beautiful than his face was Namjoon’s heart. He’d insisted he book you a cab home (after understanding you didn’t have a spare shirt), and settled with your manager that you’d be taking the rest of the night off.

The next day he caught you by surprise, showing up on your doorstep in a cream cable knit sweater, and a black gift box adorned with a white camellia in hand (half out of apology, but also because he needed an excuse to see you). You’d opened the door, let out a strangled squeak and promptly slammed the door shut in his face. Later, he did get invited in when you didn’t so closely resemble a drenched version of Dobby, but it was unlikely you’d ever forget the horror of that moment.

-

Of course at first, your relationship was merely transactional - he paid you for your company, mostly at more of these fancy galas where he needed someone to distract the crowd while he really talked shop with the important people, and you.. well who were you, a mere mortal, to say no to that? It would get your bills paid, put food on the table, and Namjoon was kind, intelligent and not bad to look at.

Okay fine, he was great to look at.

Sure he’d been divorced once, but everyone has skeletons in their closets, right? Namjoon’s closet was three times the size of your apartment so there’d be plenty space to hide them. (Later, much later, you also become privy to the information that the guy could fuck you six ways from Sunday, but that’s besides the point… you think.)

-

After the parties on the way home you’d started to linger in his car. He’d walk you up the stairs of your dingy apartment complex. You hold hands, his large one dwarfing yours as the both of you walk as slowly as possible up the entire ten flights.

It was dangerous for you to walk alone, he said, but really, Namjoon wanted to talk to you a little while longer. You were nothing like he’d ever known. You were quiet. Listening. But really listening, not just waiting for your turn to talk. So different to the ditzy socialites in his circle who wanted only to talk about themselves.

Its not long before you're inviting him in for coffee - he drank your dishwater coffee quietly for the next three months before he suggested going to his place where the ‘real coffee’ was.

You fell fast, and you fell hard.

-

Not that you didn’t have your share of heated romances with people your age, but none of them really got you, listened to you as intently as he did when you rambled on about the inequality and hegemony of this world. You chalk it up to the fact that you’ve always been more mature than others - a result of circumstance. Not by choice, really, but it was what it was.

Namjoon always carried an air of introspection around him. Not intentionally. Many people took that for pride, but you realised quickly it was quiet confidence. He liked to listen and learn and observe.

On your coffee nights he begins to give you a glimpse of who he really is. Undoubtedly, he’s a Kim. That cool, nonchalant disposition was his battle armor. But beneath that you come to see the man who when you ask him about the telescope in the corner of his study, tells you he still entertains his childhood dream of being an astronaut. That on clear nights he likes to read Carl Sagan and look at the stars, wondering about the kind of lives they lead.

You learn he’s a great big klutz that breaks the handles off his cabinets ‘by accident’. You see the soft side that sometimes likes to read children’s books because ‘some of the best lessons in life are simple and humble ones’. And eventually the side that suddenly pulls you in closer in his sleep to his chest on rainy nights because he hates thunder. You always wake because you’re a light sleeper, but you’re glad you are, reaching up to smooth the furrow between his brows gently with a thumb before cuddling deeper into his embrace.

It’s also the first time he smiled at you. It was the week before his birthday, you’d given him a little resin keychain with little pressed wildflowers. He’d gone silent for quite a while and you didn’t know if he hated it or loved it.

“It’s a keychain.”

“Yeah.. It’s not much but I made it in a resin art workshop I went to, you have everything already and I hadn’t any idea what I could afford that you’d need-“

“You made this?” He interrupts, looking up at you.

You feel your gut shrivel. Jesus Christ. He hates it.

Immediately you move toward him to remove your offending gift. You were a Tiny Bit Hurt, but what had you been expecting with a cheap thing like that?

“If you don’t like it, it’s okay. You don’t have to use it! I just thought because you call me your little wildflower you’d like - “

You can’t finish your sentence because your face is smushed into Namjoon’s (very nice, very broad) chest as he pulls you into a crushing hug.

Horror takes over slightly and you struggle to move away. “Namjoon, I’m wearing so much foundation, and you’re in a cream Givenchy sweater - “

“I love it.”

You stop struggling. His warm breath tickles your ear, one large hand cradling the back of your head.

“You do?”

“I do. I love that you put in all this effort. You are my little wildflower. Always blooming in surprising places.’

You hug him back, nuzzling into his scent. The Givenchy sweater could wait. There was always drycleaning.

“And now I’ll have something to remind me of you wherever I go.”

When he pulls back to look at you he’s sporting not just one of those polite half smiles, but a full on beaming grin that make his eyes into smiling crescents. You get to see how deep his dimples actually are.

You swooned so hard you thought you might’ve given yourself an aneurysm.

-

Well, fast forward a year and here you are.

Watching the owner of a global business conglomerate make you some silly whipped coffee drink in the kitchen of your tiny apartment with water stains on the wallpaper, his diamond cufflinks sitting in a repurposed butter spread tray that held coins and keys on your countertop.

Watching your klutz boyfriends, ad he jerks the whisk at an odd angle and gets foamy coffee splattered all over the front of his white shirt.

'Joon, that’s Dior.” Your face crumples. Grabbing a towel out of the drawer, you wet it and try to dab the coffee stains off. That shirt was so expensive, it could pay your rent for three months.

You knew and had come to terms with the fact that money would always worry him far, far less than it worried you, but seeing such an expensive item go to waste would never stop making you a little bit unhappy. Well, there was more to it, but you shoved those thoughts away.

Namjoon sets the bowl down on the counter.

“It’s okay, love. I’ll just get a new one if the stains don't come off.”

You scrub harder.

After a silent moment, Namjoon puts his hands over yours to still them. “It’s not just about the shirt, is it?”

He waits for you, like he always does because he knows you need a little time. He’d wormed his way into the deepest parts of your heart, but there would always be a final little fence you had to decide to take down. He was okay with that.

After a minute, you nod. Gently, he takes the dishcloth from you and sets it aside so he can hold your hands properly. Times like these he just wants to hug you and hope that would be enough to protect you from the world. You taught him that money, as much as it solved problems, was not everything.

He puts a finger under your chin and tips it up so he can see your face.

“I just..”

“Go on.” He encourages.

“I know we’ve been through this before, but I can’t help but feel like I’m a… I’m a burden.”

Funny, considering how you two started out. The sugar baby/parent lifestyle just wasn’t for you. You were a Bad Ass Bitch who didn't need anyone, and it was important to stay on brand.

“Like, I keep being on the receiving end and sometimes I just feel like I can’t do anything for you. You spend so much money on me. The other day after we went shopping you bought me such lovely fruits to stock my fridge, and even got me a new heater for my room when it’s cold, and now you’re making me coffee because I sent you that post on Instagram and I just….

“If you didn’t have to come to my stupid old apartment you shirt would still be clean and I …“ You gesture vaguely at him and then at yourself.

“You give me so much. And well, I’m… just me.” You say finally.

Namjoon’s just been listening as you ramble, face unreadable. He;s got his business face on and you can’t tell if he’s angry with you or not.

“So you feel like you can’t do anything for me.”

You nod.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding the topic every time I ask you to move in with me?”

You nod again.

“Look, _____. I want you to listen to me. Like really listen.” His hands move to cup your face, eyes now staring intently into yours.

“You give me something in this world no amount of money can buy. You make me feel whole. You make me feel excited that I get to do life’s most mundane things with you. Even if it involves drinking dishwater coffee.”

That last part gets a small smile out of you, so he knows you’re in the clear.

“I know you’re not used to receiving nice things, because the world hasn’t given you much of it. I hate that. What I do for you, I do with my whole heart. I will continue to want to do these things for you for as long as you’ll let me.

“And maybe if I keep doing them one day you will see how everything, everything I do for you pales terribly in comparison to what you give to me by just existing.”

You’re so overwhelmed with emotion so you just respond lamely “o..okay.”

In your head, your two braincells clap enthusiastically as they crown you honorary president of the Idiot Club.

Namjoon sighs and rests his hands on the countertop on either side of you so he can look at you eye to eye. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. Eyes vulnerable and lips soft, just like you should be. He hates the world for treating you so cruelly.

“And for the record, I insist on spending time here I noticed you’re more… yourself than at my place. I want you to feel comfortable.”

“That’s not true.” You raise your chin petulantly, because you’re slightly prideful that way and don't want to acknowledge that Namjoon sees through you clear as day.

“Don’t argue with me.”

Namjoon narrows his eyes fractionally, his gaze darkening, and suddenly you’re very aware that you’re caged in. Not that you were complaining but was it suddenly really hot in here?

“I’m not arguing.”

“Yes you are." He's lowered his voice and its taken on a huskier tone. 

“You know that everything I do, I do out of love for you. And I will damn well put up with your apartment with no complaints if it means you will feel more at ease.”

This man was going to give you whiplash with the way he made the most loving words sound like filth.

You lower your gaze, just the way you know he likes, and look up at him through your lashes. Two could play that game. You see a spark ignite in his eyes.

“I know.”

“You know, what?”

“I know, sir.”

“Good. Now why don’t I finish making you that coffee, and then we can go back to my place and we’ll see what you really know.”

With that, he releases you to get the milk from the fridge, and you spin around to place one hand on the countertop and one hand over your chest. You suck in a breath you didn’t know you were holding. A few seconds longer and you’d have -

A sharp cracking noise from behind you quickly sweeps any indecent thoughts clean out of your mind.

You turn to find Namjoon looking at you with an incredibly apologetic expression, holding a black piece of plastic which what seems to be -

“Did you break the handle off my fridge?”

-

Three days later he’s sporting the same apologetic expression, the only difference is that you two are separated by a towering, stainless steel monstrosity that now sits in the middle of your living room, leaving you two to converse by having to look around the sides of it.

“I’m sorry, ___. I didn’t know it’d be this big.”

“That’s what she said.”

You peer around the corner with a cheeky grin. He gives you a look that’s half withering and half amused. “Mature.”

Reassessing the appliance in front of you, you throw your hands up in the air.

“For the love of sweet god, Namjoon. This fridge is ridiculous. I’m not feeding the entire village. You’ve seen my apartment, how did you think this was going to work?!”

“I dont know, okay? I just called my home decor guys and told them to send you the same fridge I have!”

You sigh heavily and shut your eyes. The man was so intelligent, but days like this you wonder if sometimes his brain took unpaid leave.

“My house is literally a third the size of your closet.”

If this wasn’t your house you might have found it a little bit funny. But it is your house.

You wait, but there’s just silence from his end, so you continue.

“What do you expect me to do with this monstrosity? Take a fucking winter holiday in it?! We can’t even -“ you kick the sofa for emphasis.

Pausing because he’s still unusually quiet, you stretch to look around the fridge again. He’s on his phone, tapping away in furious concentration.

“What are you doing?”

“Give me a minute.”

Oh no.

“What are you doing.”

“Relax, my love, I’m fixing the problem.” He waves you off nonchalantly. “Give me a minute.”

“Are you calling the delivery men to take this back?”

There is a genuinely confused look on his face when he looks up.

“What? No. Don’t be silly. I’m texting my real estate agents. They’re getting you a new house so this fridge will fit.”