#except for 16 candles

[scopop08]

Every time I log into this account and I see all the HC / life series posts I feel like I've been transported to the horrible take convention of 2021

HC and the life series are genuinely so boring now that they're focused on clip farming and fanbase approval and all the fandom knows how to do is repeat the same 5 jokes and headcanons

Double life was the last good life series and if this new one is even half as bad as the last 3 I'm blowing my head smoove off

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 15

˗ˏˋ ambushed ˎˊ˗

"You have no idea how you ended up being the middlewoman for Jungkook’s surprise birthday party. You also had no clue who Yeji’s brother was—except, apparently, you did. And now, on top of everything, there’s a hot teaching assistant who seems to be interested in you."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 7,8k.

content: being unwillingly (not really) recruited for jungkook's surprise bday party, tae being a hater as usual, hobi as a mediator, yoongi gives 0 fucks about everything, discovering who Yeji's brother is, meeting new people, library encounters and naughty texts.

✧ author's note ✧

OKAY SO. Here’s Chapter 15.

You absolute goblins hit the last goal in less than 24 hours, so naturally, I’m raising the bar—because I refuse to be outmaneuvered like this. Chapter 16 is already in progress, but you better give me enough time to finish and proofread it, or we’re gonna have problems.

Also, I’m out of town this weekend, which means I probably won’t be writing at all. Consider it my three-day break. SO TAKE IT SLOW. BREATHE. WE WILL REACH THE GOAL EVENTUALLY.

Anyway, this chapter was ridiculously fun to write because I finally got to have Y/N exchange numbers with Hobi and Tae. Also, Jungkook’s birthday is September 1st, and I’m keeping that canon, so… her getting roped into this party planning mess is hilarious to me (except, actually, not really—because free drinks. And let’s be real, I’d also agree if someone covered my tab for the night).

ALSOOOOO. New character unlocked! What are our thoughts on the TA? You’ll see Jungkook’s perspective next chapter. :) (Reminder: we’re dealing with limited POVs here, so read between the lines. It’s your job to play detective. These two are unreliable narrators, as we all know.)

Mwah mwah, Kiki off.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

College syllabi should come with a warning label: May cause extreme boredom and online shopping addiction.

Your cursor hovers between two different scented candles on your screen—both equally wrong for Emma's birthday. 

Fresh ocean waves. 

How is that not a standard candle scent? 

You've scrolled through seventeen different websites and the closest you've found is "Sea Breeze" (too generic) and "Ocean Mist" (which, according to reviews, smells like "bathroom cleaner with a hint of desperation").

Professor Herrington drones on about post-modern literary theory, his monotone voice basically putting everyone to sleep.

Except Jimin, because next to you, his pen scratches across his notebook, meticulous notes forming in his neat handwriting. 

Thank god for Jimin. 

Your own notebook sits open with exactly three words written at the top: "Post-modern lit is..." The sentence remains unfinished because, well, you stopped paying attention approximately forty-two minutes ago.

Your phone buzzes against your thigh. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.

What fresh hell is this? you wonder, sliding it out just enough to peek at the notifications.

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  created a new conversation

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  named the conversation "kafka my beloved"

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  added You to "kafka my beloved"

You blink at the notification. What the actual fuck?

You open the chat under your desk, finding only Yoongi's contact among two other +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 s.

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 ��𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 :)

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚢/𝚗! 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚒 :) 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢.

You stare at your phone, momentarily confused. Jungkook's birthday? Since when are you involved in anything Jungkook-related that doesn't involve slamming doors, fighting over Griffin, or... well, the other thing that nobody knows about?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚖𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚖 𝚒 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍

A pause, and then:

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚒’𝚖 𝚝𝚊𝚎𝚑𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚝𝚠… 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠

Ah, of course. Mr. Artistic-and-Condescending himself. You quickly save his contact as "𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨" and the other as "𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃".

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎??

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚍?? 

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝚜𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚋𝚘𝚢, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚒’𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢???

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢! 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢!

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎! 🥳

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚜 𝚒 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍… 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝? 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 ��𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝟷.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚒 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎... 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜?? 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘??

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢! 🎂

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖��𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠?

There's a noticeable pause in the conversation, and you glance up to make sure Professor Harrington hasn't caught you texting. He's still gesturing wildly about stream of consciousness, completely oblivious.

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚊𝚝 𝙱𝙽

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗? 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝟾𝚙𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚝 𝟻

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒’𝚖 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚛 🙃

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝! 🎉

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛. 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎.

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 ^

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 (𝚢𝚘𝚞) 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝟾 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢? 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

Another pause, longer this time. You can practically feel the tension through the screen.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕! 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 😊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 "𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝" 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚒𝚊?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚊?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚙?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎’𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙, 𝚢/𝚗! 💫

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚒��𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚍𝚔

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚆𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖…

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 💕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚍𝚌 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 ☺️

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜? 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚜.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜! 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢-𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢???

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊?

Your cheeks heat up as you remember exactly how you know Jungkook likes vanilla—specifically, the vanilla-scented body wash you were wearing the night you ended up in bed with him. 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜???

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝟽𝚝𝚑! 🍪

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎!

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝... 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘! 🥳

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚒𝚝’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝟷𝟻 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚘

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝? 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛?

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 😕

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛!

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎,𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚔 🙄

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚝𝚟

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚢/𝚗! 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 🙏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚙

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜! 📚

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖

You bite your lip, thinking about exactly how "personal" things have gotten between you and Jungkook in the three weeks since you moved in. 

If they only knew.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚑𝚞𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝! 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢! 🎉

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛?

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚎𝚜! 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘! 🚀

You lock your phone just as Professor Harrington calls on someone in the front row to analyze a passage. Jimin gives you a side-eye that clearly says "I saw you texting the whole time," but he slides his notes closer to you anyway.

Now you have two birthday gifts to figure out, and somehow you need to convince Jungkook—the guy you've been having no-strings-attached sex with for the past few weeks—to go to a restaurant without making it weird or suspicious.

And apparently there's some mysterious birthday trauma you're not allowed to know about.

Great. Just great.

You click back to the birthday options for Emma. At least one decision should be simple.

When the lecture finally ends, you let out a yawn so massive it feels like your jaw might unhinge. The kind of yawn that makes your eyes water and your whole body stretch like a cat waking up from a seventeen-hour nap.

"Could you at least pretend to pay attention?" Jimin taps you on the head with his pen. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to be annoying. Like a woodpecker with perfect hair and a conscience.

You rub your eyes, smudging whatever mascara you bothered to put on this morning. "What for? I'll just jam it all in my head two weeks before the exam and I'll pass it. Always works."

"Until it doesn't," he says with that little smile that makes you want to both hug him and flick his forehead. The smile that says he's judging you but in the nicest possible way.

"Has worked for the past two years," you counter, shoving your mostly empty notebook into your bag. "I'm basically a professional at academic procrastination at this point."

Jimin slides his laptop into its case with the precision of someone who actually paid for their electronics themselves instead of guilting their parents into it like you did. He zips it closed and slings the strap across his body, adjusting it so it sits perfectly against his hip.

And then he just... stands there. In front of your table. Waiting.

It's such a small thing. Stupid, really. 

But as you fumble with your pens and shove crumpled papers into your bag, you can't help but notice how he's just there. Not rushing ahead with a quick "see you later" thrown over his shoulder. Not walking out with other classmates while you're left scrambling to catch up.

He just waits. Patiently. Drumming his fingers against the edge of the desk in a rhythm that probably matches whatever song is stuck in his head today. His eyes wander around the lecture hall, watching other students file out in chattering groups.

You've only known Jimin for what—three and a half weeks?—since the semester started, but somehow he's already figured out this thing that matters to you without you having to say it. 

The waiting. The not leaving first.

A smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it. You try to hide it by ducking your head, but when you glance up, Jimin's looking down at you with one eyebrow quirked in question.

"Let's go to Jin's," you say, zipping your bag closed with more force than necessary. "Coffee. My treat."

"Alright," he agrees easily, but his eyes are knowing. "But just because it's your treat."

You roll your eyes. "I’m not made of money."

"Says the girl who spent the entire lecture online shopping."

"That's different. That's for Emma's birthday." You sling your bag over your shoulder and start walking toward the exit. "And apparently I need to get something for Jungkook too now."

"Jungkook?" Jimin falls into step beside you. "Your roommate? The one you said, and I quote, 'has the personality of a wet sock with tattoos'?"

"Did I say that?" You wince. "That's a little harsh. He's more like... a slightly damp sock. With tattoos. And a cat."

"Uh-huh." Jimin holds the door open for you because of course he does. "And you're buying him a gift because...?"

"His friends are planning this whole surprise birthday thing and somehow I got roped into it." You step outside into the September sunshine, immediately regretting your choice of a black t-shirt. "I have to get him to some ramen place on Saturday without making it obvious."

"Sounds like a job for someone who actually likes him," Jimin says, adjusting his bag strap again.

"That's what I said!" You throw your hands up. "But apparently I'm the only option because Yoongi's too obvious or whatever."

You navigate through the crowded walkway, automatically stepping closer to Jimin when a group of skateboarders whizzes by. 

"So what are you getting him?" Jimin asks.

"No idea. His friend suggested whiskey or photography books." You mumble. "But it feels weird to get him something when we barely know each other."

Jimin gives you a look that's a little too perceptive for comfort. "You live together. How do you barely know each other after almost a month?"

"We're not exactly having heart-to-hearts over breakfast, Jimin." You avoid his eyes. "It's more like ships passing in the night. Ships that occasionally fight over whose turn it is to clean the bathroom."

"Hmm." It's a noncommittal sound, but somehow Jimin packs a lot of doubt into that one syllable.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just seems like there might be more to the story."

You nearly trip over your own feet. Does he know? How could he know? You've been so careful not to mention anything about your... arrangement with Jungkook. But Jimin has this annoying sixth sense about people.

"There's nothing to tell," you say, too quickly. "He's just my roommate. Who happens to need a birthday gift now."

"If you say so." Jimin mercifully drops the subject. "So what did you end up getting for Emma?" 

"Nothing yet. I was looking at candles, but none of them are right. She likes ocean scents, but all the ones I found online smell like bathroom cleaner according to the reviews."

"What about that little shop on 12th? The one with all the handmade stuff?"

You blink at him. "What shop on 12th?"

"The one we walked past last week when you were complaining about your landlord's no-pets policy while simultaneously showing me fifty pictures of Griffin."

"Oh." You vaguely remember a storefront with crystals in the window. "I didn't notice it."

"Of course you didn't." Jimin's smile is fond. "You were too busy telling me how Griffin only knocks over Jungkook's things but never yours."

"Because it's true! That cat has taste. But yeah, maybe we could check out that shop after coffee? If you're not busy?"

“Maybe after coffee.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs—that bright, genuine laugh that makes it impossible not to smile back. It's weird having a friend like Jimin. Someone who waits for you after class and remembers the shops you walk past and doesn't make you feel like you're too much or not enough.

It's nice. 

Really nice.

The bell chiming in Jin's shop shouldn't come as a surprise. 

So it doesn't. 

What does, however, is Professor Kim standing next to your university best friend Yeji as she animatedly complains about coffee to Jin, who looks like he's rolling his eyes so hard they might fall out of his head and roll across the counter.

You stop dead in your tracks, nearly causing Jimin to crash into your back. Your brain immediately halts its processes like you've just witnessed your high school principal at a strip club. 

Because what the actual fuck is Professor Namjoon Kim—the English department's golden boy who publishes in journals you can't even pronounce—doing hanging out with Yeji? 

It's like seeing your therapist at the grocery store. Or your gynecologist at a bar. 

Some people just shouldn't exist outside their designated spaces in your life.

"Uh... hi Yeji?" you mutter, approaching the counter.

Your hand instinctively grabs the handle of your bag, clutching it like it might somehow explain this bizarre crossover episode of your life.

Jimin grabs your arm from behind, his fingers digging into your bicep as he tries to subtly pull you away. You can practically feel the panic radiating off him. 

Makes sense. 

Professor Kim is basically his academic idol—the guy probably has Namjoon's journal articles taped to his ceiling like other people have posters of rock stars.

But your curiosity is stronger than your sense of self-preservation. It always has been.

"Why are you with Professor Kim?" you blurt out, gesturing between them with your free hand. "That's such an odd combination?"

Yeji turns around, her perfectly glossed lips forming a small 'o' of surprise before morphing into an amused smile. "You mean my brother?"

Brother?

You actually feel your mouth hanging open, but you can't seem to close it. It's like your jaw muscles have gone on strike.

"Your what now?" you choke out, eyes darting between them. 

And holy shit, how did you not see it before? They have the same eyes. The same way of tilting their head slightly when confused. The same fucking dimples when they smile.

"Brother," Yeji repeats slowly, like you might not understand the concept of siblings. "You know, same parents, shared childhood trauma, occasional desire to commit murder?"

Professor Kim—Namjoon—lets out a deep chuckle that somehow makes him seem less like the intimidating academic genius and more like... well, Yeji's dorky older brother.

"I didn't realize you two knew each other," he says, looking between you and Yeji with genuine surprise.

"We're in the same class for History of Modern Art," Yeji explains, then turns to you with narrowed eyes. "Wait, how do you know Joon?"

"He, uh—" you start, but Jimin cuts you off, apparently having recovered from his initial shock.

"Professor Kim helped Y/N with her English assignment last week in the cafeteria," he says, his voice doing that slightly higher thing it does when he's nervous. "He's my Literary Criticism professor."

Jin, who's been watching this whole exchange with the entertained expression of someone witnessing a particularly juicy reality TV show, slides a cup across the counter. 

“Your usual, Joon. Maybe this will help you process the fact that your worlds are colliding."

"Thanks," Namjoon says, accepting the coffee. "And it's not that weird. University's a small place."

"Not that weird?" you repeat, your voice climbing an octave. "Yeji's been my friend for almost a month and she never once mentioned her brother is the Professor Kim who's published in like, every major literary journal and is the youngest professor in the English department!"

Yeji shrugs, completely unbothered by your minor meltdown. "Why would I? It's not like I go around introducing myself as 'Yeji Kim, sister of Namjoon Kim, academic wunderkind.'"

"You absolutely should," Jin interjects, wiping down the counter. "It's much more interesting than 'Yeji Kim, girl who complains about my coffee being too bitter even though that's literally how coffee tastes.'"

"It doesn't have to taste like liquid punishment, Jinjin," Yeji fires back.

“Call me that again, I dare you.”

She just sticks her tongue out at him. 

Meanwhile, your brain is still trying to process this information. Yeji—your friend who constantly convinces you to skip class—is related to the professor who casually dropped references to obscure literary theories while helping you with your paper. The same professor who Jimin practically worships from afar.

The bell chimes again, and Namjoon glances over your shoulder, his face lighting up with recognition.

"Jason! Perfect timing," he calls out, waving someone over.

You turn to see a man who looks like he walked straight out of an academic journal's "30 Under 30" feature. Dark wavy hair, green eyes, and a messenger bag settled against his thigh. He looks younger than Namjoon but carries himself with the same confident ease, minus the dorky energy Namjoon apparently reserves for his sister.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, approaching your little group. "Office hours ran long."

"Everyone, this is Jason Calloway," Namjoon introduces as the newcomer reaches you. "He's a teaching assistant in the English department, working on his PhD. Jason, this is my sister Yeji, her friend Y/N, and—"

"Jimin Park," Jason finishes, nodding at Jimin. "From Literary Criticism, right? Front row, always has insightful questions."

Jimin looks like he might spontaneously combust from the recognition. "Y-yes, that's me."

"And Jin, the coffee wizard," Namjoon adds, gesturing to the barista.

Jin gives a curt nod, his ‘usual’ friendliness suddenly dialed down to about a three. "Professor Calloway."

"Please, just Jason," he insists with a smile that reveals perfect teeth. 

(Of course they're perfect. The guy probably flosses twice a day and has never had a cavity in his life.)

His eyes land on you, and you feel weirdly self-conscious about the fact that you haven't brushed your hair since you woke up.

"Y/N, was it?" he asks, extending his hand. "I don't think I've seen you in any of the English department courses."

You shake his hand, noticing how firm his grip is. Like, professional-level handshake firmness. 

“That's because I'm not in Literary Criticism. Though I’m friends with Yeji and uh, occasionally get help from her brother when I'm desperate."

"She's being modest," Namjoon interjects. "She wrote an excellent analysis of Joyce's symbolism in 'Araby' last week."

"Really?" Jason's eyebrows rise with what seems like genuine interest. "That's one of my favorite stories from Dubliners. What was your take?"

And suddenly you're discussing your half-assed paper with this unfairly attractive TA while everyone else watches. 

"...so basically I argued that the bazaar represents this false promise of escape that ultimately just reinforces the narrator's entrapment," you finish, surprised at how coherent you sound.

"That's a compelling reading," Jason says, and he actually sounds like he means it. "Have you considered taking any of the modernist literature electives? Professor Harlow is teaching one next semester that would build on exactly those kinds of insights."

"Oh, I don't know if—"

"She'd be perfect for it," Namjoon agrees, nodding enthusiastically. "Y/N has a natural instinct for literary analysis.”

You shoot him a betrayed look. Way to trap you in front of Hot TA.

"I'll think about it," you say, which is your standard response to any suggestion that might involve additional work.

"You should," Jason says, pulling out his phone. "Actually, I'm putting together a study group for students interested in modernist literature. We meet at the library on Thursdays. Nothing formal, just discussions. Would you want me to text you the details?"

Is he... is he asking for your number? Under the guise of academic enrichment?

"Sure," you hear yourself saying, even though the last thing you need is another commitment. 

You recite your number as he types it into his phone.

"Great," he says, pocketing his phone with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I'll text you the information."

Jin clears his throat loudly. "Are you ordering something, or just recruiting for your book club?"

"Black coffee, please," Jason says, unfazed by Jin's tone. "And whatever these two are having." He gestures to you and Jimin.

"Oh, that's not necessary—" you start.

"I insist," Jason says. "Consider it a thank you for the interesting conversation."

"I was going to treat Jimin," you protest weakly.

"Then you can treat him next time," Jason counters smoothly.

“Coming right up," Jin says in a tone that suggests he'd rather be doing literally anything else.

"So, Jason," Yeji pipes up. “In a scale of one to ten, how boring is it working with my brother?”

“I’m literally right here.” Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“I’m not talking to you.” She nudges his shoulder.

And just like that, you find yourself observing Professor Kim engaging in sibling banter with your black cat girl friend. 

Jimin just sighs.

Jason smiles.

And you… You can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Because he’s kinda cute. 

And he thinks you're smart, which is... new. 

And nice.

And probably easy and not at all like what you have to fight everyday back at home.

Jimin leans close to your ear. "Did you just get adopted by the Teaching Assistant?" he whispers.

"Shut up," you mutter back, but there's no heat in it.

You're too busy wondering why Jin looks like he's trying to murder Jason with his eyes as he aggressively steams milk for your latte.

You are going to kill Yoongi.

Not in a fun, theoretical way. Not in a haha, wouldn’t it be so funny if you just disappeared way. No, in a genuine, how dare you way. A why the fuck would you tell me that way. Because now you know, and it’s annoying.

Because who the fuck just collects vinyls without owning a record player? Seriously? Is Jungkook, like, a museum curator in his free time? A hoarder? A hipster? A tragic romantic who thinks the idea of playing them is better than actually hearing the music?

And why do you know this about him now? Why do you have to sit here, staring at your phone screen, realizing that—wow, Jungkook actually cares about something other than his cat, his coffee machine, or sex?

(Not that you can complain about that last one. The guy is good. But anyway. Not the point.)

The point is: you need to get him a gift, and you had thought, for maybe five minutes, oh, a record player, that’s easy, before the internet informed you that you are, in fact, an idiot. Because apparently, these things are not cheap. Not even close.

Like, two hundred dollars minimum. Minimum. 

What the actual fuck? Are these things hand-carved by monks in the Swiss Alps? Does each one come with a vial of David Bowie’s blood? 

No wonder Jungkook doesn’t have one. Knowing him, he probably wants some artisan audiophile masterpiece that costs a month’s rent, because apparently, he only likes expensive shit. If his coffee machine is any indication, he’s the kind of guy who thinks “entry-level” is an insult.

So, yeah. That’s a dead end.

Which is just great, because why should it be easy to buy a gift for your stupid, annoying roommate? The same roommate you—occasionally—fuck. The same roommate who gives you pretty damn good orgasms (objectively speaking) but also apparently sometimes ties your shoelaces and carries your fucking laundry basket. 

Not that those things mean anything. He’s still annoying. 

And this is just… inconvenient.

Because it shouldn't be this hard. Emma’s gift was easier. A candle. Because you know her. Have known her for years, since high school, since braces and straight A’s and sleepovers in a house that wasn’t filled with the crushing weight of expectation.

It’s not like you and Emma were inseparable or anything, but she was safe. Predictable in a way that your own life wasn’t. Parents who asked about school but didn’t make your worth dependent on it. A house that felt lived in, not curated for appearances. You spent whole weekends there sometimes, away from the asphyxiating worry and tightly wound smiles of home.

And yet, even with all that history, buying her a gift was easy. Thoughtless, almost. Because you know what she likes. What she always likes. Ocean scents. Easy. Done. But with Jungkook—

You don’t know him. 

Not like that. 

Not in ways that make gift-buying easy. 

You know what his mouth feels like on your skin, what he sounds like when he’s cumming, the way his grip tightens when you push him past the point of coherence. 

You know he doesn’t just fuck, he devours, the way he lets himself lose control but never in a way that feels unsafe. 

You know that Jungkook.

But this? This is something else entirely.

And it’s not like you’re overthinking it. You just… refuse to get him something meaningless? Because, what—his friends are getting him stuff that matters to him, and you’re not gonna make yourself look stupid by giving him a random mug. 

And clearly, a vinyl player is out of the question because you are not spending two hundred dollars on this man.

Because, get real. You’ve known him for a month. 

Maybe you should just go with the whiskey. Or the macarons. Or whatever the hell else his friends suggested.

But the thought of it doesn’t sit right.

It should. It should sit right.

But it doesn’t.

And then Jason is holding the door open, and Jimin is nudging you through like you’re some kid hesitating at the threshold of a dentist’s office. You shoot him a glare, but he just raises his brows in that infuriating way that says get a move on, and okay, fine. 

You step inside the library. 

It’s its usual hushed, sterile self—muted conversations, the soft clatter of laptop keys, the occasional rustle of a page turning. You’ve spent enough time here that the whole place feels mapped into your brain, familiar in a way that’s more about necessity than comfort.

Jason, of course, is completely at ease, like someone who actually enjoys being in academic settings. He had mentioned he could help you both out with your subjects—literary criticism for Jimin, contemporary poetry for you—and maybe the whole thing should feel a little weird. 

Because it is weird. 

Jason is a teaching assistant. He’s basically one step removed from a professor, and getting study help from someone who could realistically grade your future papers seems like it should be against some kind of rule.

But also, he’s attractive. And if you have to suffer through an afternoon of studying, you may as well have something nice to look at.

And okay, it’s not just that. He’s actually competent. He seems interested in the material, which is already more than you can say for yourself when it comes to dissecting yet another pretentious poem that somehow manages to say absolutely nothing in fourteen unnecessarily complicated lines. 

And if he makes studying less of a slow, painful death? 

Well. That’s a deal worth taking.

So you walk. And you do it carefully, because the last thing you need is to trip over your own feet and make a spectacular fool of yourself in front of Jason and his perfectly effortless, I-have-my-life-together aura. 

Jimin moves ahead, leading the way like he always does, because he has a whole system for this.

The table. Your table. The one tucked away far enough that nobody bothers enforcing the stupid beverage policy, even though Jimin swears that’s not the only reason he picks it every time. But to get there, you have to take the lift, which means a little more walking, a little more weaving through the maze of bookshelves and seating areas.

You’re mid-step, following Jimin’s path, when the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand on edge.

It’s instant, sharp, like someone just screamed your name in the dead silence of a church. Except no one did. Nothing changed. The library still hums with the same subdued energy, people still absorbed in their own work, but—

Your head turns before you even realize why.

And there he is.

Jungkook.

Sitting at a table to your left, laptop open, fingers resting on the keyboard like he was mid-typing before he got distracted. 

And yeah, he is distracted, because his eyes are lifted from the screen, gaze settled on the girl beside him. She’s leaning in, whispering something, lips barely moving, and whatever she said—whatever it was—makes his mouth quirk up at the corner in that stupid, smug way that he does when he thinks he’s being effortlessly charming.

It shouldn’t be interesting.

But for some reason, your feet almost stutter.

It’s like your body noticed him before your brain did, like some ridiculous internal Jungkook radar just activated without your permission.

And you hate that.

Hate that he’s even registering in your periphery, let alone taking up any space in your thoughts. 

But your eyes are still on him. And worse, his shift.

His gaze drifts from the girl—slowly, lazily, like he’s not in any rush—until it lands on you.

And that is the moment that something tightens in your chest.

Because now he’s looking. Now he sees you, standing there, caught in this stupid little moment of unexpected eye contact. And if there’s one thing you hate, it’s that Jungkook is the type of person who notices things. 

Apparently. 

Because since when do you notice he notices things?

And then his gaze drifts.

Past you. Over your shoulder. Taking in the presence behind you like he’s cataloging it. 

Jimin, probably. Maybe Jason. 

Either way, something shifts in his expression—not dramatically, not like some big revelation, just the smallest flicker of recognition.

But then?

Then there’s the eyebrow.

A small quirk, barely there, but unmistakably him. The way it pulls up, just enough to suggest something—questioning, curious, maybe vaguely amused. 

Or maybe not amused at all. Maybe something closer to why the fuck are you here? Or who the fuck is that? Or is this really what we’re doing today?

Like you have any idea.

Like you even know what it is about this moment that makes your stomach do something unpleasantly close to twisting.

Your shoulders pull up in an easy, practiced shrug, the universal sign for why the fuck do you care? Because, really, why does he? 

Or does he?

Whatever. You’re here to study. With Jimin. And Jason, apparently. Who happens to be helping. And also happens to be attractive. And none of that is Jungkook’s business.

Except now you have to keep walking.

Which, for some reason, feels like an entirely different task than just existing a second ago. Like there’s a new weight to it now, something too aware of the fact that he’s watching. 

You should just go. Pass by. Move on. But your body is hyper-conscious of every step, every shift, every inch of space between you and the table where Jungkook sits, his laptop open, his fingers still hovering over the keyboard like he’s supposed to be typing.

But isn’t.

And then Jimin is stepping ahead again, and Jason is right beside you, and there’s no reason for you to hesitate even for a second longer.

So you don’t.

You just keep walking.

And you feel him keep staring.

And then you’re sliding into a chair far away from him (thankfully), whilst Jimin settles across from you. Jason takes the seat to your left, close enough that you catch a whiff of something woodsy and expensive. 

It's fine. This is fine. You're just here to study, not to think about the way Jungkook's eyes followed you or how his stupid eyebrow quirked up like he was asking a question you couldn't quite decipher. 

So you reach for your bag, fishing out your contemporary poetry textbook—a tome so dense it could double as a weapon in a pinch. The cover stares up at you, all pretentious font and abstract artwork, like it's judging you for not appreciating its profound literary significance or whatever.

But before you can even crack it open, your phone buzzes against your thigh. Once. Twice. Like it's impatient, demanding attention right fucking now.

With a sigh that's more dramatic than strictly necessary, you pull it out, already knowing who it's going to be. Because of course. Of course he can't just let it go.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

You stare at the screen, torn between annoyance and something dangerously close to amusement. Because really? That's what he's going with?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’t 𝚒 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝??? 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 🤨

The reply comes faster than you expected, like he was waiting with his thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚞 𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜

You snort, earning a curious glance from Jimin. You wave him off, mouthing "it's nothing" even as your fingers are already tapping out a response.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚖

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. Because it's not funny. It's not. He's just being an ass, as usual. But there's something about the quick back-and-forth that feels... familiar. Easy. Like verbal sparring but without the weight of having to actually look at each other.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗?

There's a pause. Longer this time. You imagine him glancing at the girl next to him, maybe offering some half-assed excuse for his distraction. 

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚙𝚕 𝚒 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝟸 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚊𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚏 𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍... 😭 𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎. 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘…

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚑𝚖

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐?

Another pause. This one feels different. Heavier somehow. Like he's weighing his words, which is ridiculous because when has Jungkook ever carefully considered what comes out of his mouth?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚌 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝟸? 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 👏👏👏

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝

There’s a pause. 

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚛 𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢

And there it is. The question you knew was coming but still somehow catches you off guard. Because how do you explain Jason? How do you casually mention that you're getting extra help from an attractive TA without it sounding... like something it's not?

Not that it matters what Jungkook thinks. Because it doesn't. At all.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗. 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚊. 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 😀

You hit send before you can overthink it. But as soon as the message goes through, you feel a knot forming in your stomach. Like you've said too much. Or not enough. Or just... something.

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again. 

What the hell is taking him so long?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖

That's it? Hmmm? What the fuck does that even mean?

You're about to type out a snarky reply when Jason leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours.

"Everything okay?" he asks, voice low enough not to disturb the library's hushed atmosphere.

"Yeah," you say, maybe a bit too quickly. "Nothing important."

Jason nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Well, whenever you're ready, we can start with Sylvia Plath's 'Lady Lazarus.' I think you'll find her use of Holocaust imagery particularly interesting in the context of personal rebirth."

Great. Just great. Holocaust imagery and personal rebirth. Exactly what you need right now when your brain is too busy trying to decode Jungkook's monosyllabic response.

Your phone buzzes again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 

You blink at the screen. Because what the actual fuck?

And maybe you stay there, waiting for another message that doesn't come. Which is stupid because there's nothing to say. You're here to study. He's... doing whatever the hell he's doing. That's it.

So why does it feel so weird?

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice cuts through your thoughts. "You with us?"

You look up, suddenly aware that both Jimin and Jason are watching you expectantly. Waiting for you to join them in the exciting world of modernist poetry or whatever the hell you're supposed to be doing.

"Yeah," you say, shoving your phone into your bag with more force than necessary. "I'm here. Let's do this."

But as you flip open your textbook, you can't shake the feeling that he’s here. Not watching you, because you’re nowhere near him right now. But it’s like his presence hovers in an inconvenient way.

Fuck Jungkook and his stupid, cryptic texts. Fuck him and his ability to get under your skin with just a few words. And fuck you for letting him.

You've got poems to analyze and a cute TA to impress. 

That's what you're here for. 

That's all you're here for.

So. Thirty-five minutes.

That’s all it takes.

Thirty-five minutes of Sylvia Plath and Jason’s smooth, perfectly enunciated explanations. Thirty-five minutes of Jimin occasionally sighing like he’s reconsidering his entire major. Thirty-five minutes of not thinking about Jungkook. Of not wondering if he’s still at that table, if he’s still watching, if he’s still—

Ding.

Your fingers tighten around your pen. You already know.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?

You exhale sharply through your nose, tapping your phone awake under the table.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚒’𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝟹𝟻 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜. 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎???

It takes less than three seconds for the typing bubble to appear.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘???

“Your focus seems to be slipping.”

You blink up at Jason, who’s watching you with a raised brow, his fingers still resting lightly on his open book. Jimin doesn’t even pretend to hide his judgment, lips twitching as he leans back in his chair.

“Sorry,” you mutter, stuffing your phone between the pages of your textbook like it’s a bookmark instead of a distraction. “Just—uh, go on.”

Jason doesn’t push, but Jimin gives you a look. 

Your phone buzzes again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚕𝚘𝚕. 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚞 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 “𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚢𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌”

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚖𝚛. “𝚊𝚑 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝟻 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐”

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡. 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙.

The typing bubble appears again, then disappears. Then again. Then—

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖

Your heart skips.

Which is stupid. Stupid. Because why? What about that message is even remotely heart-skipping-worthy? It’s a statement. A fact. A piece of information you didn’t ask for and definitely don’t care about.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢…? 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐???

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛

And, okay. That’s fine. That’s totally, completely normal information. He’s in the bathroom. On the second floor. You’re on the second floor. That’s fine.

So why does your stomach feel weird?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚌’𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚘𝚕 𝚗𝚘?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚕𝚘𝚕 𝚢𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑??

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚘 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍

Your breath catches, pulse flickering against your throat.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎. 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 💀 

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚊𝚗𝚍?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚍𝚢𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍??? 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚘𝚔? 𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒???

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚑𝚖. 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝚍𝚘. 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚗𝚊 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞 𝚍𝚘.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑. 𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 🤨

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚒𝚡.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚛𝚘.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗’ 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔

Your stomach tightens.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚘𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗. 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚘𝚠?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒’𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚔𝚢𝚜

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑… 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚄𝙿

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎.

Your thighs press together under the table. Fuck.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚌𝚖𝚘𝚗, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚡𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚘𝚋

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚞

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

Your fingers flex around your phone, the heat creeping up your spine as your pulse stutters.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚑𝚖. 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

You swallow.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑. 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚞 𝚛𝚗. 𝚋𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚞’𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙿𝙸𝙶

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚑?

You freeze.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗

Jason’s voice cuts through the heat simmering in your phone.

“You’re smiling.”

Your head snaps up. “Huh?”

Jason nods toward your phone, amusement playing at the edges of his lips. “Who’s got you so entertained? Boyfriend?”

You blink. Brain short-circuits for half a second before you manage, “What? No. Not at all.”

Jimin, the absolute menace, hums. “She wishes.”

Your foot connects with his shin under the table. Hard.

“Jesus—” He winces, rubbing his leg. 

Jason chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “So you’re single, then?”

His tone is casual. Smooth. Like he’s just making conversation, not fishing. But you see it. The way his gaze lingers just a little too long, like he’s waiting to gauge your reaction.

You shrug, feigning indifference even as your pulse betrays you. “Yeah.”

Jason’s smile widens slightly. “Interesting.”

Your phone dings again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗?

Your jaw clenches. You exhale through your nose. Mutter a quiet, ‘motherfucker,’under your breath.

Jimin raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shoot off a reply before you can overthink it.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘🖕

Then you lock your phone, shove it into your lap, and try to ignore the way your stomach flips.

goal: 250 notes

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[gracie-eilish]

may you do a story that basically is like you and billie are high school sweethearts and it’s your 5th year anniversary and your sick she so comes and takes care of you, so basically all fluff and cuteness

sappy anniversary

pairings: college student reader! x billie

warnings: not really! mentions of feeling sick. mainly fluff

five years. five whole years since you and billie had started dating. the two of you were 16 when you started dating, leaving you both now 21 and 20… billie always teased you about those six months you trailed behind her.

five years you stood by her side, or at least virtually did as best as you could. you were there when she swept her first grammys, there for the release of all her albums thus far, there for as many tour dates as possible… you get the picture :)

now here you were on your fifth anniversary, waiting for billie to arrive to your college apartment. given billie’s fame, going out to dinner in your small college town was a no go. so you spent the week tidying up your small apartment, for a cozy date night in…. until you woke up this morning.

your head was pounding, throat scratchy and dry, nose running faster than an olympian.. basically you felt gross. quickly after you woke, you texted billie letting her know you weren’t feeling well enough for a proper at home date.

now, you were slumped half asleep in bed after skipping all your classes today. you had re-runs of new girl playing automatically in the background. you had all the lights off except for a string of christmas lights stung up on the ceiling, and your little humidifier glowed a calming purple color on your nightstand, and a few plain scented candles lit on your nightstand and dresser. not even your dog, gnawing on a bone next to your bead, could have dragged you from your cozy cocoon of sick.

until the door opened and closed… billie.

“babygirl?” she called softly from the front door. “baby, i’m here! i brought some stuff to help you feel better.” you could hear her shoving off her shoes and putting some grocery bags and her keys on the kitchen counter.

your dog scampered off to the front door, following billie’s voice. her little paws scraped on the floor, followed by billie’s silly little hellos and giggles at her enthusiasm.

“where’s your mama, hm? you been taking good care of her all day?” you smiled at her words, muffled through the wall. the little paws scampered closer again, as well as some familiar socked footsteps. the door creaked open, revealing a very cozy billie, clad in some sweats and a soft crew neck. her dark hair was down and slightly wavy, bangs pushed back with a cotton headband, leaving her bare face open for you to enjoy staring at all night.

“hiiiii mama,” her voice was soft but still twinged with that signature charm. “happy anniversary sweetheart.” your lips curved into a slight smile as she perched herself on the side of your bed, candlelight bouncing off her bright red roots.

“hi bub,” you shifted a bit so you could sit up more. “happy anniversary love.”

“how ya feeling? up for a little fun? or do ya just need a super hot nurse to take care of ya all night?” she shot you a wink, smirking.

“jesus fuck billie,” you tried to stifle your laughs to prevent another coughing attack. “i’m better than this morning, but i’m definitely not feeling good enough for more than like .. tv and cuddles.. and snacks.. and tea.” you faked a cough looking at her with sheepish eyes.

“alright sicky.” she rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “well before any fun happens, what have you eaten today? have you had any water?”

“yes, i had some leftover soup for lunch and some small snacks and tea mostly. and yes plenty of water.”

“good girl,” she pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling away quickly before leaning her cheek to your forehead.

“baby!! how are you not sweating?! you’re burning up love!”

you looked at her dumbfounded. you had been shivering and freezing all day so naturally you bundled yourself up with the little energy you had.

“have you taken anything for your fever missy?”

“i don’t have a fever.”

“be so fucking for real with me right now.”

“billie the tylenol is so fucking far away.”

she rolled her eyes laughing and grumbling under her breath.

after getting some medicine and even more water in you, billie insisted on you taking a nice long shower. emphasis on long. you figured it couldn’t hurt, sitting in your sick all day never made you feel better. so billie helped you out of bed and into the warm shower. she shut the door behind her, letting all the warm air stay inside, before she got to work.

to say your room was a disaster was an understatement. while it was a valid disaster, no one felt better sitting in a messy room. she threw a fluffy towel and some clean pjs in the dryer while also throwing your dirty sheets and bedding in the wash, replacing them with fresh clean ones.

back in your bedroom, she set up a little basket situation of all the snacks and things she brought so neither of you would have to leave the bed all night. she set it on “her” nightstand, and on yours she refilled your humidifier, and your water.

by the time you finished in the shower, your room had been transformed to a cozy, romantic, haven set up for you two to still enjoy your anniversary while allowing you to rest.

“baby! where’s my towel?!” you called from behind the door. “it’s fucking freezing in here!”

billie snorted at your theatrics before knocking on the bathroom door, letting you know she was there. once you’d given permission, she stepped in, finding you standing in the shower with the door closed, arms crossed across your chest, teeth chattering like a puppy in the rain.

“oh my god babe, it’s not that cold,” she said in her little voice, wrapping you up in the toasty towel fresh from the dryer. you practically melted into her arms, the warmth from her arms seeping through the fluffy fabric.

“billie?” you half said, half whined.

“yeah mama?” she continued drying you off softly.

“i don’t feel good,” your voice was all nasally from your stuffy nose.

she stifled a snort, pulling you in closer to her.

“i know baby, i know.” she kissed your damp hair a few times. “you wanna get in pjs and then cuddle?”

you nodded without lifting your head from her chest.

“okay. my poor baby.” after a quick pouty, glare from you, and a wet cheek kiss from billie, billie did take her time helping you dry off and get ready for bed.

“alright you, back in bed. is there anything i can bring you before we get settled?”

you thought for a moment, genuinely looking around if you needed anything. you shook your head with a soft smile, scooching down further under your blanket.

billie snuck in next to you, settling on her back so you could snuggle up to her side, resting you head on her shoulder.

“i got you flowers too, but i left them in the kitchen in case they’d irritate your nose,” billie whispered in a small voice. you looked up at her with a pout. she was sickeningly sweet even five years in.

“you’re so cute,” you whispered.

“kai have a kiss?” she asked, puppy eyes on full display.

“bubby, you’ll get sick if i kiss you. i don’t want you to feel all sick and gross when you go back home.”

“does it look like i give a flying fuck right now.”

she did in fact not look like she gave a flying fuck.

“what am i gonna do with you?” you smiled, tilting your head further up to kiss her, softly and delicately.

“love me forever?” she asked between kisses.

“sounds good to me.”

you settled back into her arms, letting her pull the fluffy throw blanket over your shoulders.

“i got you something.” you looked at her surprised. you both agreed that you didn’t need to do gifts for anniversaries. maybe some flowers, a nice dinner or a romantic date. but there was no need for gifts… except for billie. she cut you off before you could object.

“before you freak out… i’m not proposing. i think you’d kill me slowly if i proposed when you had a runny nose.” you giggled a bit, perking up at what she was fishing for in her sweatpants pocket.

she pulled out a ring, nothing extravagant. a simple (your fave metal color) band, with a moderate (your fave gem) stone in the middle. you looked up at her with watery eyes.

“bils..”

“this is a promise ring for you. a promise that first and foremost, one day i’ll buy you an engagement ring. and then a pretty little wedding ring to match,” she kissed your jaw teasingly. “but also a promise, to love you and cherish you and adore you every day i have left on this earth. the last five years have been incredible for a thousand and ten reasons. it wouldn’t have been half as incredible if i didn’t have you by my side.”

you were speechless. you’d talked about the future a few times, but more jokingly like all teenagers did. but… you were now in your early twenties. billie was selling out arenas living her dream around the world, and you were set to graduate next year and start working your dream job. your lives were off to a great start… but doing it together sounded even better right??

“i love you so much,” was all you could croak out, throat tight from tears and whatever scratchiness you had left.

“aww baby,” billie giggled and pouted at your teary face, pulling you in close to cradle your head.

“my emotional little girl,” she teased pinching your side.

the moment died however as you let out a sneeze, a reminder of why you were snuggled up in bed and not sat outside having a romantic little dinner on your small deck.

“sorry billie,” your voice had stuffed up immediately, giving it that rounded edge everyone had when they had a cold. “ruined the moment a bit there.”

billie just smiled and passed you a few tissues, letting you do your thing before finally, snuggling into bed for the last time that night.

“do you wanna wear it or do you wanna wait until you feel bett-“

“billie you bought me sparkly jewelry, of fucking course i wanna wear it.”

she slipped the ring onto your ring finger, holding you hand out for a second just admiring the way it sparkled. she pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles before letting your hand rest on her chest, showing off the sparkly stone.

she grabbed the tv remote and pressed play on whatever episode you had paused from when she first got here a few hours ago.

“you feeling any better?” you nodded against her chest softly, eyes already dropping a bit.

“yeah i am. thank you for taking care of me.” you softly looked up at her.

she poked your new ring a few times teasingly, “s’my job!”

“you’re such a goose,” you mumbled smiling, tucking you head back beneath her chin.

“very cute goose. make all the girl goose go woahhhhh,” she cracked herself up, unable to catch her breath.

“baby you said it wrong. it’s moose not goose.”

“can you just let me be funny for like seven seconds? i thought you had a cold.”

“i swear to fucking god billie..”

“MWAH!” she pressed a warm kiss to your cheek. “you love me.”

“you bet your sweet ass i love you.”

🩷

billie couldn’t help but watch as you slept just a few minutes later. sound asleep in her arms as nick and schmidt argued away on the tv. you let out tiny little snores since your nose was so stuffed up, which billie found adorable.

naturally her gaze shifted, watching the sparkly ring on your finger glimmer in the low light of your room. she thought about what it would be like a few years from now when you had an engagement ring on.. a wedding ring.. and couldn’t stop the smile on her face.

you may have been sick and a teensy bit miserable, but you both agreed this was the most romantic and memorable anniversary you’d had yet.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Things Found On The SOLDIER Bulletin Board Before It Got Banned

Also known among the operatives as "Exhibit A in HR's Case Against Us" and "Why Lazard drinks"

• An old timey style wanted poster of Sephiroth.

• A Shinra Crypto Pyramid Scheme Recruitment Poster: "Get rich! Ask me how!" flyer definitely not put up by Genesis.

• A candid, casual shot of Angeal in a towel, with a sticky note on it that reads "This man's physique is impeccable and we should all strive to look like him - Kunsel"

• An unofficial and deeply Inappropriate SOLDIER length ranking. A full infographic-style chart titled "Who's Really First Class?" — featuring stylized silhouettes, pixelated measurements, very unscientific bar graphs, with one bar labeled "??? (Sephiroth)" that pierced through the top of the page and kept going onto the wall behind.

• A heavily redacted mission report re-titled "How To Get Bitches In Wall Market" By Roche. Accompanied by a pinned photo of Roche, Zack, Kunsel and Cloud in front of the Honeybee Inn doing a thumbs up. Entire paragraphs blacked out with Sharpie by Lazard.

• A sign reading: "STOP SCREAMING IN THE AIR DUCTS." Below it: a list of times screams were heard, organized by pitch. "3:12 AM – Zack: "YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE," 4:47 AM – Genesis: operatic shriek followed by "What an ADORABLE rat!",, "2:16 PM – Kunsel: 🎶 Vent mann, he's in the vents 🎶 Who's gonna tell 'im he can't be in the vents? 🎶

• A complaint letter written entirely in Wingdings. No one could decipher what it said, but Sephiroth pinned it dead center with his sword and left it there for a week. Genesis claimed it translated to "STOP LEAVING RAW EGGS IN THE SHOWERS. THE HOT WATER IS COOKING THEM."

• "Kunsel Knows" Weekly Gossip Column. Typed, laminated, and mysteriously accurate. This week's headline: "Rufus and Tseng: Covert Lovers?" Kunsel denies authorship every time while distributing fresh copies.

• A photo labeled "Sephiroth, age 6." Except it was clearly taken recently. Featured a photo of Sephiroth happily filling a coloring page while eating animal crackers.

• A prayer candle with Lazard's face on it nailed to the bulletin board. Taped under the header: "Our Administrative Savior, Deliver Us From Overtime." Lit regularly by Angeal. Burned through the wall once. No one confessed.

• "Sign Up for the Shirtless Sparring Tournament!" flyer sponsored unofficially by Zack. Angeal's name was written 42 times all in different handwriting by different people. Among them was noticeably Sephiroth's handwriting 12 times.

• An updated Lost and Found photo collage of strange things retrieved from the training room. Notable entries included: A weaponized tree branch with "property of Sephiroth" carved into it, an Angeal body pillow, a molotov cocktail, a Genesis-themed rubber duck, Cloud Strife looking confused, and a suspicious flashlight.

• A flyer titled: "Genesis Says He Can Fly Now, Come Watch at Noon"

• A very official-looking memo from HR titled "You Are Not Allowed To Challenge Sephiroth To Arm Wrestling, Ever Again."

• A letter addressed to Lazard written entirely in glitter pen that read only: "You can't fire us all. ❤️"

• A laminated page titled "Forbidden Moves Banned From Sparring" Included: A photo of Sephiroth and Genesis beating each other with makeshift marker swords.

• Two photos pinned side by side: one of Sephiroth and the other of ex-turk Vincent Valentine. People would gather around while Kunsel divulged his theories using a presentation pointer stick.

[thislovintime]

Fan photo, 1960s.

“[There is] a huge kitchen, and this is where everyone hangs out. It isn’t fancy except for the huge refrigerator, stove and other modern appliances. The kitchen table has a battered red-and-white oilcloth cover complete with candle drippings and cigarette burns, and in the corner is an antique sewing machine. Off the kitchen is a walk-in pantry and maid’s room. Peter, however, has never had a maid or any servants for that matter. […] [I]n the music room, just off the living room, you just have to be careful not to trip over the million and one wires as you stare about you at guitars, speakers, drums, an organ, a piano, amplifiers and every musical thing you can possibly imagine.” - Fabulous 208 (October 26, 1968) "Peter himself makes the salad and salad dressing, and soon everyone is sitting about cross-legged, eating a plateful of roast beef, zucchini and salad. An informal sing-in, play-in begins to happen. Banjos and guitars appear and voices begin to harmonize, in everything from folk songs to the latest number one hit records. You secretly kick yourself for not having a tape recorder to capture this beautiful and historical moment forever. Later, the guests begin to leave—in couples or one at a time. When the last guest has departed, Peter starts to clean the dishes, stops halfway, and suddenly becomes very quiet. He turns off the lights and lights a candle—and the last thing you hear as you leave your perfect day in the life of Peter Tork is the haunting strains of the sitar of Ravi Shankar, coming from the stereo set." - 16 Spec (Fall 1967) “First social call was to Peter Tork’s house. When we arrived Peter was wearing a string of beads and very little else, since it was far too hot to be anywhere but a swimming pool that day. Dave Crosby (Byrds) was there, too, and we had a good get-together. […] I suppose the highlight of L.A. this time for us was the session we had at Peter Tork’s place. Peter Asher joined us there — he played bass, Peter Tork was on piano, George and Dave Crosby on guitars and Ringo drumming.” - Mal Evans, The Beatles Monthly (August 1968) Peter Tork: “We all jammed, Stephen [Stills] and George [Harrison] and Ringo [Starr], and I was on keyboards, and I don’t remember who played bass. It was fabulous to hear Ringo play. My God, what a drummer. God, he was good. He was so solid, and the authority was astounding. I learned so much just by playing with him for five minutes; it was a wonderful experience.” Q: “It’s a bummer it didn’t get recorded.” PT: “It is too bad, nobody thought to record it. The best we had at the time was cassettes, but even so, that would have been a wonderful jam.” - Rolling Stone (2007) “[At Shady Oak Road there was] a good music room where we could get pretty loud. Jimi [Hendrix] did come over to my house. Buddy Miles and I were close for a while and both of them would come over and say hello. Once [Stephen] Stills and David Crosby and my then girlfriend and I were jamming together and I leaning into the drums something ferocious, banging on cymbals and lashing out pretty good, until a city councilman and a cop came over and we were so loud that we drowned out conversation down the hill, apparently.” - Peter Tork, Review Mag (May 27, 2016)

[asidian]

Set breakdown time! Next up: Niko's room.

As before, I've circled the points of interest and numbered them to make them easier to talk about. Cool? Cool. Let's do this!

1: Niko's mom's name! This part is her and Niko's surname. The kanji are 佐々木.

佐 – sa, meaning help or aid

々 – an iteration mark. When you see this, basically it means "exactly what the last one said, one more time." So another sa meaning help or aid

木 – ki, meaning tree

It's really neat that they picked a last name for her that doubles down on her role in the narrative. Just like Niko is there to support and help other characters in whatever way they seem to need, her surname hammers it home by including 佐 not once but twice.

2: Riza (リザ) Niko's mother's given name. Somewhat odd here is that it's written in katakana and not kanji. Without getting sidetracked too much (you can pop over here to read more if you're interested) most Japanese people write their names in kanji.

Katakana seems like a bit of a strange choice here, unless a) Niko for some reason doesn't know the kanji for her own mother's name (weird, given that she's in high school) b) her mother is a foreigner (a possibility; foreigners usually write their names in katakana) c) the set designer/whoever prepped the letters didn't know the appropriate kanji for "Riza" (seems unlikely, given how accurate all the rest of this is) or d) some sort of personal habit. An interesting side note is that her letter to Niko also puts Niko's name in katakana.

3: Cutesy stationery, used for marking your place in a document or book

4: A cute blue purse!

5: Watermelon! Judging by the shiny material and placement near the other bag, I'm going to guess this is another purse

6: Niko's clothes :>

7: Pink luggage

8: Lots of instant noodles

9: A rice cooker

10: Rice vinegar

11: This girl LOVES her some plants

12: Probably food items…? The one on the right looks like it might be a five-pound bag of rice, but I don't recognize the brand

13: Lots of unwashed dishes

14: A toaster oven

15: Chopsticks

16: A cute octopus pillow. I think I saw someone mention that it's from Ikea :>

17: She often leaves dirty dishes sitting on the bedside table

18: A painting of what seems to be a skyscape

19: Brightly colored pillows

20: Metal art in the shape of a moon

21: A decorative window hanging

22: More plants :)

23: Candles

24: Her tv

25: Cute pens with pompoms on the end

26: Regular tape

27: A cute cat statue

28: Marble Pop Ramune, strawberry flavor. Ramune is a type of soda that's a popular festival drink in Japan. It's sealed with a  glass marble and you have to pop the marble down into the little catch basin before you can drink it.

29: Anime wall décor

30: Fruit jelly cups. In Japan, small gelatin based snacks like this are popular. They're tiny, about an inch tall, and you eat them in just one or two bites.

31: Niko's laptop. She has stickers on it

32: Washi tape! It's decorative Japanese tape, often with bright colors and patterns, used for crafting.

33: A lot of cute magnets, including the bunny one, which serves double-duty as a kitchen timer

34: Niko's grocery list. The only thing on here that's here because she wants it is strawberry ice cream. The rest of the items, licorice tea, manuka honey, and Epsom salts, are all natural remedies. She's been trouble-shooting how to get rid of the effects of the sprites. She knows she's sick, but not why

35: Cutesy craft supplies! Sequins, glitter, and pompoms

36: More washi tape!

37: Niko's manga collection. She is that particular brand of organizational mess that does not put her numbered volumes in order. She has made an exception for the series that makes a complete picture when you line them up, though

38: More plants :)

39: Manga posters! Issho is one of the series that she has on her shelf

40: A decorative jar

41: Little metal bird sculptures

42: What seems to be the only framed picture in her room. The angle is wrong to see what the photo is, but it's interesting that they added just one in here. Maybe it's her family…?

[morgansorgans-org]

Collection of nrmt/klpl fics!

An oomf on Instagram asked if I could compile all my favorite Ace Attorney fics! They are all and Wrightworth and Klapollo fics. The first few are my favorites (usually means they made me cry or emotionally impacted me 🧍) but I like all the others I linked here ofc as well! Many of these came from rec lists on tumblr, because that’s how I started out reading aa fics!

Wrightworth fics

Legal Partners by Miggy, 132k words, 34/34 chapters, 2013

Summary: Miles Edgeworth isn't totally sure how he ended up in this bet to demonstrate the strength of his and Phoenix Wright's (entirely professional and platonic! really!) relationship, but he knows it's Klavier's fault.

Absolutely one of my most favorite fics ever, I’m not gonna lie. Genuinely so good. I was clutching my phone the entire third act of the fic, absolutely ridden with anxiety. I read for 12 hours straight that third act, during exam season, eyes absolutely bloodshot and had a splitting headache by the end because I was staring at my phone for far too long. It’s so good.

I think my biggest qualm I have with this master class of a fic if I had to say, would probably be the characterization of Klavier? he feels too straight in this I don’t know how else to put it. But honestly it’s so minor I don’t really care and I’ve read this twice (which I never do)

Project Matchmakers by WingSongHalo, 126k words, 16/16 chapters, 2018

Summary: It was quite distressing, Pearl thought. For years previously, she had been quite fixated on the idea of her cousin and Mr. Nick living happily ever after. Even after she had accepted that this would never happen, she was always somewhat enamored of the idea that one of them would someday be caught up in a whirlwind romance, passionate and adventurous.

So she was rather surprised to find herself immensely enjoying the steady, familiar relationship she saw between a defense attorney and a prosecutor. It wasn't loud or flashy or wild, but calm and reliable and quiet. Rather than a blazing fire that consumed everything, theirs was an affection like a candle flame, bringing forth light and warmth.

Well, except for when they were in court. Then they were rather more like two overzealous flamethrowers.

An excitable group of girls (and a reluctant Apollo) team up to make Phoenix and Miles realize they're crazy about each other. But are such measures really necessary?

Canon universe.

Loved this one. Very good. I loved the side casefic it had and how it affected the main characters as well. I love the everyone ships wrightworth trope so much.

A Night You’ll Never Regret by MaudMoon (Idle_Wanderings), 88k words, 7/7 chapters, 2018

Summary: After learning about a clerical error on their wedding certificate, Maggey and Gumshoe decide to go all out and invite their friends and family to a vow renewal ceremony in Las Vegas. Edgeworth, spurred on by his sister's threats encouragements, decides to use the trip as an opportunity to express feelings he's been holding onto for years.

However when Edgeworth, Larry, and Phoenix wake up the morning after Gumshoe's bachelor party, it doesn't take them long to realize things didn't go as planned: Edgeworth's cards have been declined, Larry has been mysteriously injured, and Phoenix wakes up wearing a wedding ring. And, to top it all off, Gumshoe is missing. They'll need to rush against time to find Gumshoe before his wedding, and to do that they'll need to figure out what the hell exactly happened last night.

Soooo good! I love the mystery aspect of it all and everyone recounting and slowly piecing together what happened. It’s very sweet too and also kinda nsfw be warned…. also Maya x Rhoda was definitely not what I was expecting tbh

To play due process like a fiddle by Harmony, 19k words, 1/1 chapters, 2024

Summary: As far as Miles can tell, Agent Lang's initial impression of certified hot mess Phoenix "That Man" Wright upon their first meeting wasn't exactly the most positive, and tragically enough, it's not like Miles can really blame him for having that perception.

That said, they both probably should've known that Phoenix hadn't been named the Turnabout Terror for nothing.

(Or: what it means to judge solely based on first appearances and then have all of your expectations rocked off-balance, especially when they revolve around one of the most outstanding attorneys the criminal justice system has ever known).

Deeeeeelicious. So good. Love the tension between Phoenix and Lang and them essentially kinda fighting for Edgeworth even though it’s a very skewed battle against Lang. Aaaagh

A fool in love (with you) by gen, 17k words, 1/1 chapters, 2016

Summary: Miles and Phoenix (finally, no really, after two years of being engaged) decide to tie the knot. On the day of the wedding, they are reminded of all the moments that got them there.

Sooooo cute! This one helped inspire me for my last chapter of my own wrightworth fic actually! This author actually wrote a klapollo long fic I’ve been meaning to check out actually, called The Sound of Silence. I’ve been scared off by how heavy the warnings of the angst ahead are ngl. But this one shot in contrast is very fluffy and sweet!

A Beginner’s Guide on how Not to Write Steel Samurai Fanfiction by chameleonwrites, 16k words, 6/6 chapters, 2021

Summary: Verity Baytum, a court stenographer, has a secret passion for writing Steel Samurai fanfiction based around the pairing Magisteel. When she finds an unlikely source of inspiration during her job, she can't help but watch court proceedings in search of further lines that fit her fics.

Miles Edgeworth, said source of inspiration, has a secret passion for reading Steel Samurai fanfiction based around the pairing Magisteel. It doesn't take long for him to realise the reason the characters sound like him and Wright is not due to personal projection.

I really liked this one, it’s very funny and sweet. I also realized this fic kind of predicted the name Verity for an AA character…

Yours, Mine, and Maybe Ours by estelraca, 13k words, 1/1 chapters, 2015

Summary: Phoenix convinces Miles to bring Trucy in with him for Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, despite Miles' misgivings. Everything becomes even more complicated when Kay Faraday and Shi-Long Lang call on him for assistance. Set between the original trilogy and Apollo Justice; mild spoilers for both Investigations games.

Loved this one! I really like any fics with Trucy as a bigger character (wow who knew look at all my SNS accounts with trucy pfps) especially ones that delve deeper into her relationship between her and Edgeworth.

The Prosecution Rests by Commander_Freddy, 4k words, 1/1 chapters, 2016

Summary: Miles Edgeworth goes to bed, and then wakes up.

Very good. Short but impactful and angsty and sweet. Commander Freddy has some other very good AA fics you should check out also.

Archeology by sunsmasher, 8k words, 1/1 chapters, 2014

Summary: Phoenix and Maya finally clean out Mia's office. Far, far too many people help.

Very short but very good. Deals with Mia grief and also has side Wrightworth content.

To Their Happiness by ,,,,, 41k words, 10/10 chapters, 2024

Summary: Trucy Wright sees that her daddy's friend, Miles Edgeworth, makes him happy in a way she can't. She knows he's sad and lonely, despite trying his best to hide it from her. She makes a promise to herself that she would try to have Miles around as often as she could, for his happiness.

Or, an evolution of Wrightworth's relationship through Trucy's eyes. Trucy and co. sees Phoenix and Miles feel that special way that adults feel for each other and tries to matchmake them. It's mostly Trucy doing that, though.

teehee. you think I wouldn’t go without promoting my OWN fic? you thought wrong!!! I’m also working on a Klapollo fic (it’s like 37k words so far) but I’ll be lucky if it gets uploaded by the end of 2024 with the pace I’m writing it at. It’s so close to completion though…

Klapollo fics

Hot for Justice by indirectkissesiniceland, 43k words, 26/26 chapters, 2013

Summary: After the events of State v. Misham, Klavier finds himself in a slump, stressed at the prosecutor's office and unable to pen new songs. To his surprise, he finds creative inspiration—and unexpected feelings—spending time with Apollo. Now if only he could release the new tracks without raising any suspicion as to whom his love songs are for.

God, is there a klapollo fic rec list without Hot for Justice on it? It’s such a classic, and rightfully so. This fic also inspired me as well to write my next fic! It’s just this good.

Vacation All I Wanted by JJsADragon, 111k words, 24/24 chapters, 2020

Summary: “A vacation?” Apollo asked.

“Yeah! You know what a vacation is, right Polly? When are you going to get another opportunity like this? A beach vacation? A pool? It’s not like you could afford this place without splitting the cost.”

One condo. Six lawyers. Seven secret plans. What could possibly go wrong?

This fic is like. A need I go on? Moment. It’s so iconic and good. This along with Legal Partners probably permanently organized my brain chemistry, I think. Good god the angst. The fluff. this fic genuinely made me sob which. A book hasn’t done that to me in a very long time! there’s a scene where Apollo talks about grief and that was very relatable. This fic also does breach the subject of suicidal ideation, but it is brief. In general this is a lighthearted fic!

If it’s really me you seek by seamint, 83k words, 21/21 chapters, 2021

Summary: “Anyway,” Ema keeps going, fully ignoring his sarcasm in favor of staring at a neat corner where the walls meet the ceiling. “I asked if he wanted to go to your party together, but he said he wasn’t going.”

“What?” Apollo suddenly finds it very hard to breathe. “Why?”

“Hell if I know,” Ema says nonchalantly, but then she turns to him with a smirk. “See if you can figure it out: I believe he told me, and I quote—ahem—'Ach, I would, Fräulein, but I believe Herr Justice would be more comfortable without me there.’”

Or, when Apollo comes home from Khura'in only to learn that Prosecutor Gavin is avoiding him, the last thing he expected was for Gavin to offer to let Apollo stay at his house while he looks for a new apartment.

It’s been a hot minute since I read this one (one of the first klapollo fics I read) but this one was veryyy good. Very much inspired me. Honestly all of Seamint’s stuff is good.

And if all my wishes could come true by seamint, 45k words, 8/8 chapters, 2022

Summary: “‘Our son’ my ass. You’re getting way too into this,” Apollo grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Is this your dream? Do you dream of being divorced and paying alimony, Gavin?”

Klavier doesn’t tell him that as far as dreams go, his is to live in a world where a relationship with Apollo, past tense or otherwise, is at all possible. Apollo doesn’t need specifics, or terrible confessions in vet clinics that show how badly Klavier wants to play pretend with him.

Or, Klavier, Apollo, and how cats bring people together in the most convoluted ways possible.

Looove this. Very fluffy. Mikeko being the center of attention as well and that’s of course why we’re reading this who cares abt klapollo frrr

Turnabout Dungeons (and Dragons) by Synthpop, 170k words, 33 chapters, 2016

Summary: According to Mr. Wright, Dungeons and Dragons is good, if not crucial, for cultivating trusting relationships between friends and coworkers. Apollo has his doubts.

So goood. I love D&D and Klapollo and this is the perfect mix of this. Bard klavier, paladin apollo, need I go on? Phoenix is the dungeon master and Ema, Trucy, Athena and Simon are also apart of the party as well

can I go where you go by parchmints, 40k words, 6/6 chapters, 2021

Summary: Apollo Justice has rotten luck: he actually wins the grand prize for a mail-in contest, but It's a couple's getaway to a fancy ski lodge in the mountains and Apollo is aggressively single. With no one to go with, Apollo offers them to Klavier since surely, a rockstar would be able to find a date before then, but Klavier has a better idea—they go together and pretend they're a couple. That way, they both get a vacation, plus free food and wine.

And well, Apollo's never been one to pass up free food.

So good!!! There’s some wonderful art in this one as well!! I remember being super hooked by this one and giggling over the fake dating stuff. Loved it

Things are as they are by hechima, 34k words, 3/3 chapters, 2021

Summary: Klapollo cabin fic. That's really all this is.

Need I say more? Yes, two cabin fic recs back to back. One cabin in the snow and the other in some desert. Loved the character analysis in this one.

Gravity by Euphorion, 46k words, 7/7 chapters, 2014

Summary: In the aftermath of his brother's arrest, Klavier is trying to balance his law career and a solo music career, with some success—but with less savory consequences as well. His fans are fixating on every aspect of his life, desperate for his attention and jealous of his relationships with the people around him. They've singled out his courtroom rival, Apollo Justice, as the target of their frustrations.

hooo boy this one is pretty angsty in a way. Lots of things going on in this one. We have some crazy Gavinners fans in this, endangerment of lives, stalking, mail… it’s a bit dark but very engaging!

It’s all that I am and all that I have by eternalmagic, 58k words, 12/12 chapters, 2016

Summary: Apollo sucks in a breath, attempting to steel his nerves. Should he honestly send this...? He doesn't even know who this man is. This is a huge, huge mistake. But, even so, he hits send before he can remind himself of how awful an idea this is.

Dear You,

I think I love you. Just wanted you to know.

From,

Me

Klavier's phone pings with an email notification, and the moment he reads it, the smile fades from his face. God, this was so much easier when he didn't know that the sender hated him in real life.

[ or, the you've got mail au. ]

Sooo good! I’ve never watched the movie before, and honestly, you don’t have to. It’s very engaging and oh my goddd the angst you have to get through to get to the fluff…. So worth it.

Anyway, Here’s Guilty Love by u_andcloud, 129k words, 22/22 chapters

Summary: The entirety of Ivy U is smitten with Klavier Gavin—with one exception. Apollo Justice could do without Klavier’s constant presence in the quad, where he serenades passerby with acoustic versions of his band's songs. Apollo is also not particularly fond of Klavier’s clothes, his hair, his tendency to sprinkle German into his conversations, or the fact that, despite all of this, Klavier is still at the top of the class.

So when Klavier asks Apollo to help him start a club for aspiring lawyers on campus, Apollo isn’t entirely sure why he accepts. It’s a resume builder, he tells himself. It’s not like he has to like the guy.

Except, well....he's starting to think that he might.

[Or, a simple college AU turned AA4 re-imagining.]

AHHHHH. College AU fic set in Ivy U. In AU fics like these, I’m always interested in how the author will deal with Kristoph, considering his story is so intertwined with both Apollo and Klavier. This fic did it so well and seamlessly my goddd. I loved it.

Undeniable you (the currents pulling me onward) by experimentaldragonfire, 59k words, 11/11 chapters, 2020

Summary: Kristoph Gavin is found dead in his prison cell, and Klavier Gavin is the prime suspect.

With nobody else available to defend him, Apollo Justice flies in from Khura'in to take the case--but during the course of the trial and its aftermath, long-hidden secrets come to light.

I looove Klavier being suspected of murder fics. They executed this concept very well. I know abt experimentaldragonfire as they were one of the hosts for the klapollo minibang (2024) I was apart of! Their writing is indeed, fire. Check out their other fics as well!

Apollo Justice: Between the Cases by joggingoctopus, 84k words, 18/18 chapters, 2023

Summary: What happened between cases in the Apollo Justice game? Here's one way things could have played out!

A retelling of apollo Justice, kind of! I really liked how the author explained some of the stuff in Ace Attorney, and it will go into my personal AA belief system I think. They also have a sequel fic which I’ve yet to read bc im very scared! (Clay things)

Delicate by ronsenberg, 30k words, 5/5 chapters, 2020

Summary: Everything about the situation is wrong, from the suitcase in Apollo’s arms to the blaring of car horns from the cars waiting behind him. It doesn’t matter. “I have been thinking-” he starts, voice faltering. It is very unlike him to be at such a loss for words, but he has never found himself in a situation quite like this before. “Ach, wondering, really-”

Apollo raises his brow, glancing at the digital clock on the dash and back into Klavier’s eyes in quick succession. “Klavier, my flight-”

“-Marry me?” The words come out in a rushed and poorly articulated interruption. Apollo blinks, his mouth falling slightly open in surprise. “When you come back, ja? Marry me.”

A Post-Spirit of Justice Proposal fic.

As of writing this right now, I just finished this fic so it’s very fresh in my memory! I really liked it! The way they wrote what would most likely be a realistic depiction of Klapollo if it were to happen in real life. It has all the downs and lows and the highs that you’d expect in a realistic relationship.

Glowing embers dying fire by virtualmushroom, 88k words, 20/20 chapters, 2023

Summary: Klavier has a crush on Apollo and he makes that abundantly clear.

Apollo, however, is oblivious and takes Klavier's enamored flirting for simple teasing. After all, why would a famous prosecutor rockstar come to like an "average" guy like him?

Despite that, Apollo comes to unlearn the preconception he has of Klavier and see beyond his mask, into the person he really is, someone not as cheerful as he may appear.

An also realistic in-canon depiction of Klapollo I really like! This was also written by my good friend!

Words Come Fluently by ItsyRoyal, 50k words, 12/12 chapters, 2021

Summary: Klavier Gavin is the most famous rockstar in the world. Guilty Love is about to go platinum and the tour sold out fourteen stadiums. So there's really, really no reason why one anonymous music critic on Youtube who hates him should get under his skin. And yet somehow he'd do just about anything to convince MikekoMusic to like him.

Apollo has been doing Youtube as a fun side hustle while he tries to break into the talent management industry, and he's just landed an assistant gig working for Kristoph Gavin. Whose main client is his golden boy younger brother. Whose music Apollo has been anonymously trashing for years.

Yeah, this is all going to go fine.

auuuuuuuuuuugh oh my god the DRAMA in this. Really good. The best part about this is the reassurance of no murders and clay BEING ALIVE!! I love clay alive fics, esp if they’re of him reacting to Klapollo.

Mission Control by ForeheadandFop, 12k words, 1/1 chapters, 2015

Summary: Like any good friend, Clay takes an interest in Apollo's career; he can't help it if the most interesting part is Klavier.

Loved this as well. Very good. It fulfills my needs of clay reacting to klapollo as mentioned above but however. This is canon compliant….🧍happy ending though …

I think that’s it for my list for recommendations! Sorry a lot of them are long fics 😭😭

[aangarchy]

Anyway because avatar studios is planning a new animated series on the new earth avatar after Korra, i won't ever continue writing the story of my OC earth avatar so here's his story summed up (mind you i started writing this in 2014, after korra ended, before the kyoshi novels, i have the proof on my laptop to back this up, the manuscript's original date is 2014. so no, i did not steal the "avatar is an orphan and therefore no one knows who the avatar is" from the kyoshi novels, my work was never published, not even on fanfic websites so it is purely a coincidence my 15yr old brain came up with the same idea of FC Yee)

Main character is Shen (originally Chang but stopped liking that name in 2019) born in Ba Sing Se, dropped off the door of a non bender couple when he was two months old. Shen grows up thinking he is a non bender. The adoptive parents have one biological daughter after Shen, the father ends up being a dead beat and leaves when Shen is 9

Because his adoptive parents are non benders, they find out Shen's an earth bender embarrassingly late, when he's 14

Shen's family lives in the lower ring and can't really afford actual earth bending lessons, so they rely on their kind neighbor who is a farmer, and teaches Shen the basics

One night, Shen's mother forgets to put out a candle. Shen discovers this when he goes downstairs for some water. As he goes to snuff the candle, he realizes it grew as he got closer. He played around with the flame, and ended up holding the fire in his hands. He then runs outside to the farmland in the outer ring where he trains earthbending, where no one can see him, and firebends. This way he discovers he is the avatar at age 15

Shen keeps this a secret. He does not want to be the avatar. He fears if he reveals himself, powerful people from all around the world will try to take him away from his family, and try to push their political agenda on him. He mainly fears the Earth King, who's been causing political tension with the Northern Watertribe and Fire Nation since he inherited the throne, and has been "unifying" the Earth Kingdom whilst simultaneously taking land from the Fire Nation and Watertribe.

The absence of the avatar made these tensions worse, the king has been desperately trying to find the avatar and hasn't gotten anywhere. The Fire Nation and Watertribe think the king is incompetent and want to start the search themselves, but the king won't allow it. Even the air nomads are trying to get the king to allow them to search, but he refuses.

At age 16 Shen, his mother and sister move away from Ba Sing Se to a small harbor town in the southern Earth Kingdom. Shen starts a new school and meets a boy named Yahno, who's father hails from the Northern Watertribe, but his mother is from Republic City. He also meets Ji-min, and airnomad girl who is a descendant of avatar Aang. They moved to the town because her mother was banished from the Eastern Airtemple. At school he meets a girl named Chō, a firebender that has Earth Kingdom nationality and likes to dye her hair bright red.

The friends tell him about their classmate Uma. She was adopted, no one knows her actual birthday. She is an exceptional earthbender, which is why she believes she is the next avatar. She treats it as fact, and uses the title to hold power over others. During their first PE lessons (where benders are encouraged to train their elements) she bullies Shen about his lackluster earthbending skills

Shen and Yahno go sailing with Yahno's waterbender dad, who takes them out of the bay in the open ocean, however they are taken by surprise by a storm. Shen accidentally activates the Avatar state on instinct and saves them from drowning. Yahno and his dad vow to keep Shen's secret, as they know what the Earth King would do to get his hands on him.

The king declares a final nationwide search for the avatar. The earth king is a truth seer (Toph's ability to detect lies), he decides to use this ability because he suspects the Avatar knows their own identity and is hiding it. Shen tries to half truth his way out, but ultimately fails due to a trick the king pulled on him, making him firebend in front of everyone. Shen gets revealed to the king, and with that the world.

Firelord Kaen, who recently ascended the throne after the untimely death of his father at age 19, meets the young Avatar in secret. Shen is apprehensive, which Kaen understands. They end their conversation with mutual appreciation, since both are teenagers in position of power.

Shen starts his Avatar training. When he enters the spirit world through Republic City's portal for the first time he finally meets Korra, and she has to sheepishly admit to Shen that she'll be his only guide. There's no connection to any of the other past lives due to the new cycle.

Shen has the most trouble learning waterbending. He doesn't know how to let his emotions flow like water, which is blocking him from getting a true feeling for the element. He masters earth, fire and air relatively quickly, but water refuses to budge for him.

This is about as far as I got writing wise. In the second half of the story a time skip was planned so Shen would be a young adult instead of a teen. He'd get badly hurt during an assassination attempt at age 18 (airship he was on got blown up) and go missing for five years making people believe he's dead and thus reborn in the firenation. He joins a pirate crew bc he has amnesia after getting badly wounded, but once he regains his memory as he's healed he keeps his identity secret again. That is until he literally sees the earth king attack the fire nation and he reveals himself to his pirate friends and contacts his old friends to take down the earth king. Also a romance of sorts would develop between Shen and Kaen (which is another reason for the timeskip lol like an 18yr old and a 21yr old sounds weirder than a 23yr old and a 26yr old idk) then i'd explore the complications of an Avatar, who's supposed to be neutral and unbiased, falling in love with a leader of one of the four nations.

Either way i was never gonna finish this story anyway bc i suck at thinking of complex political plotlines and problems for the avatar to solve to include in my story lmao. I do have some chapters that are finished writing wise but they're not in order bc I'm the type of writer that just writes the chapter they want to write without caring where it takes place in the story, which admittedly isn't a great strategy but eh it's not like I'm a published writer, it's mostly for my own enjoyment

[b1adie]

looking into it i think yingxing would have been fire hunt. he’s hunt for sure considering his main thing was hatred of abominations of abundance anyway but he was trained by huaiyan who is known as ‘the flaming heart’ on the zhuming. people and heliobi hang out together there. flint emperor is there. they use the flint emperor’s flame to forge weapons. the forge is called flamedisk forge. lots of fire stuff. so if he learned there he should be fire element. also makes sense with blade’s trailer showing that he is the single candle still lit despite the rest having gone out. would be cool if he had bluish/teal fire bc heliobi and whatnot.

i was gonna say something about how his skill could be him like heating up his sword as one would to forge it (but not THAT hot obviously) and now im thinking about how with blade’s skill he turns his sword from black to red? he is forging that thing. also crazy that that sword weighs like 4000lbs and he launched it through the air like a frisbee and dan heng got impaled with it and hardly even stumbled. how strong are these guys. OOOH or yingxing could have a FLAMETHROWERRR thing. he made awesome shit and everyone loved him ok? i know he’s never going to be playable as old man furnace master yingxing but i am just imagining if he was… hehe. arrogant craftsman. god they need to let me see/hear more of him like that. I WANT TO SEE OTHER WEAPONS HE MADE I WANT TO SEE HIM SMILE AND BE PROUD AND ANNOYING!!!!!! OLD MAN NOW!!!!!!

anyways fire/hunt yingxing. imaginary/hunt would be cute and fire/destruction makes sense too and obviously most characters playable paths dont line up with their actual beliefs but idc he seems very hunt to me. i miss him. you guys remember when he said “be careful, high elder, lest you hurt yourself with it.” that was some crazy shit. show me geriatric bladie again pleeeease. blade companion mission better be 6 hours long and at least 100k words and 2 cinematics. i’ll wait. give me his life story all 800 years of it. well i guess that’d be like

age 0-7: love my family. sure hope the beasts don’t arrive!

age 8-15: beasts ate my planet. went somewhere else they are teaching me shit here

age 16-30: i am the best at the shit i was taught. idc that everyone is rude to me about it cuz they can be rude but they can’t beat meeeee 😋

age 31-70: im still the best and now i’m hanging out with my immortal friends yay :) they’re all going to outlive me but that’s for the best i think. Right guys?

age 71-800: Ow ow ow ouch ow. Where the fuck am i btw & who the fuck am i as well. Oh well guess ill stick a branch in my hair

age 801+: kidnapped by robot and woman but it’s fine. girl keeps asking me to play games with her even though i tell her i’m busy cutting my hand off each and every day. beast upon my shoulder saying ‘Meow’ frequently. unsure of the implications of this. robot here sometimes. i like it. woman tells me to stop foaming at the mouth so i do because i respect women. except ONE OF THEM. (can’t remember which one right now). branch growing from my stomach again. not my problem. i will be taking a week long nap now.

but i want 6 hours and 100k words of it with pictures and voice acting as proof.

[hoodedjelly]

you're human designs are soooo cute and pretty, can I ask what their height and ages are supposed to be?

i never really think of height tooo much while designing, i just roughly make it "this one is taller then this one because that's how it is in canon". but i don't use the canon height differences to a tea cause they are WAY too drastic..

for ages though, while i still need to think about them more (I'll prob rewatch ii another time to be sure). i do have a rough idea of all of their ages. i feel like an obvious one that's "age coded" is teapot, she is 10000% an older lady in her 40s or 50s. but other characters that i think are 30+ are silver spoon, candle, cabby, cobs, mephone and mepad (those are kinda iffy since their robots, it's more like mental age). there's prob more but i can't think of any. the way i actually think of season one is that all of the contestants are teens, very mixed from young teens to older teens. like, i think s1 knife is around 16/17 while i think s1 lightbulb is like 13/14. i made a drawing of it actually that I'm gonna finish later, but here's a wip.

then they become adults in season 2, while the new contestants are also adults (except cherry i think they're a kid I'm sorry). but they still have different ages, like i think mic is younger 18-20 while people like cheesy is like late 20s

i say all of this but i don't actively think of age a lot while drawing designs, WHICH I SHOULD MORE. but i also don't draw the characters that i actually think are older or younger then their 20s so oops

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 16 - When Everything Changed

The soft fragrance of lavender candles did everything they could to ease the stifled air of Splinter’s bedroom. However, now that his youngest son had vacated the space, it seemed that the Great Master was finally able to take a proper breath. Light grunts escaped him as he leaned to retrieve the meditation mats, his aged knees groaning in protest of the motion. Normally he would’ve chided Michelangelo for not picking up his own mat after their meeting, seeing how it was blatant disregard for proper etiquette. But after putting his youngest child through such a mortifying experience, he supposed, just this once, that he would make an exception for the unintentionally rude behavior. 

His stoic exterior faltered with a slight wince as the tightness of inflammation made itself known in his wrists. The ache constricting his joints burned with a heat of familiarity and resignation that bothered him greatly. As a sensei and father, he would never allow it to stop him from handling his sworn responsibilities to his home and children. But his stubbornness and long-suffering did little to ease the growing tension in his hands and joints.

Some days were more difficult than others. And at those specific times he was forced to rely on his sons to take care of each other and their home, while he remained as an invalid in his room. 

The draining migraines would compel him to keep the lights off and his candles snuffed out, adding a deathly, almost mournful aura. Those days became the bane of his existence. No blade or enemy had ever wounded him like the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t care for or protect his family. Guilt coiled around his heart when one of his thoughtful sons- most often Leonardo- would enter into the dark abyss of his room carrying a steaming cup of tea. As the boy took slow, careful steps so he didn’t spill the beverage, he would ask in the softest tone a child could manage, “Papa? Is there anything I can do to help?”

A shaky breath escaped Splinter’s mouth.

The burden of caring for a parent should never be placed on such a young child’s shoulders.

Those days had unfortunately become more prevalent as time trudged on. But comparatively, through the years, his sons grew in their capability of handling the needs of their home. That brought him great relief when confined to the darkness of his room. Despite the pain flickering within his joints and mind, he still recognized his Lord’s majesty and mercy shining through. The thrashing waves of agony were hushed still when he remembered and planted himself on the blessings in his life. As time passed and wisdom grew, he would make a conscious effort to sing psalms of gratefulness to his Creator, thanking Him for his sons, his home, and the cherished days that weren’t so painful.

A faint smile bloomed on the rat-man’s face as the memories within him came together to paint a beautiful masterpiece of warmth, love, sadness, pain, and resilience. His family had climbed atop the highest of hills as well as tripped and fell into the lowest of valleys- but through every challenge, every trouble, every test, they all remained planted in the truth of who they were and Who God was. 

That fact brought tranquility into the old Master’s heart, believing and knowing that when the time came for his children to be on their own, they would be alright.

Shaking his head softly, he returned to his task, quickly adapting to the growing ember of discomfort by shifting the meditation mat into his arms rather than his hands. With practiced precision he reached his tail and wrapped it around the rolled mat, weaving it into the closet and sliding the door shut with a careful flick. 

A rueful chuckle left him as memories of his mutation rose to the surface in the shadowed lake of his past. For years he had vulgarly cursed those who changed him from man to rat. The decline from revered Master to Sewer Dweller was certainly a drastic change to become accustomed to. But over time, the Lord calmed his vengeful spirit, quenching the blaze of resentment and anger through countless hours of studies and meditation. 

It was perfect timing in God’s plan, seeing how just a few weeks later, the rat-man stumbled upon the greatest treasure he would ever own.

Splinter sat on his bed with a wistful sigh as he began to remember that frigid night thirteen years ago.

~

It had just reached late autumn in the city of New York, leaving a crisp, chill air snaking its way through the sewer tunnels. That evening was especially cold thanks to the rain. The streets of the city were smothered with a dense fog as droplets cascaded down, leaving the pavement scattered with puddles reflecting the glimmers of billboards and traffic lights.

He had just returned to the damp darkness of his sewer home when he heard it- a young child’s cry echoing in the depths of the tunnels. Something within him, a deeply rooted instinct, awakened at the sound of distress. Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped his newly acquired bag of stale pastries, as his body began sprinting to the source. With years of experience in his changed form, he minimized his breathing and softened his steps. His ears automatically began twitching and rotating, searching for the nearby child.

The sewers were no place for anyone, especially one as frail and easily frightened as an infant. Memories of dark corridors, open sewer grates, and treacherous heights loomed in the concerned rat-man’s mind, propelling his feet to a faster pace. 

After what felt like eons of drowning silence and steadily rising panic, he heard it again; A few faint sniffles and a smothered whimper. A rushed exhale of relief passed through him as he dashed around the corner.

Every ounce of air within his lungs vanished altogether when his eyes met the source of the frightened sound. There before him, glowing under the beams of light through an above sewer grate, was a tight huddle of three shivering, turtle mutant toddlers. Splinter couldn’t believe his eyes at the sight, his jaw dropping as words vanished from his mind. With a few cautious steps he remained disguised in the shadows, watching and studying the young children. All of them were half covered by a thick, impenetrable shell on their back. Their skin ranged in hues of different greens, one being a lively mint, the other two having a deep jade. Splinter couldn’t quite see their faces- all three were huddled close, their shells pressed together like a wall, shielding them from the dangers of the world around them. Noticing the droplets of water trickling down their shivering backs, it looked as though they had all come from the city above. Perhaps they were only seeking refuge from the rain? 

Splinter made up his mind as he slowly pulled himself out of the concealing shadows. Immediately the three toddlers took notice of his sudden presence, causing a chain reaction of hisses and growls to escape their tiny, trembling bodies. When he didn’t back away from their clear warnings, the mint-hued child scrambled to his feet, taking a stand as he stretched his gangly arms in front of the others like a human barrier. Splinter couldn’t help but smile at the bravery of the little one, attempting to protect his brood from anyone capable of harming it. The young boy finally showed his face, revealing two irises that shone as bright as blades. Going by his size and overall body structure, he looked to be about four or five years old. Tears poured down his cheeks as his lip quivered, clearly terrified but still not backing down from protecting the others. 

“G-Get back! GO AWAY!” The little one cried, his voice trembling as much as his body. 

At the shout of the oldest- or at least who Splinter suspected was the oldest- the two jade toddlers hunched together further. The one with the crimson shell shielded the smaller child with his body. Just before the violet-hued toddler disappeared beneath him, Splinter caught a glimpse of blue cloth clutched in the child’s arms.

“I mean you no harm, young one.” Splinter softly replied, as he lifted both his hands into full view of the toddler. “I merely heard your cry and wanted to make sure you are alright.” 

The small turtle cocked his head as if not understanding Splinter’s concern. “W-Why? Y-You’re not like the kind lady…”

‘Kind lady’?

“Who is this woman you mention, little one?” Splinter tried, attempting to earn more pieces to this sudden puzzle plopped into his lap. “Is she your mother? Do you know where she is?”

The boy shook his head. “She h-helped us ec- ex- exescape. She’s not our m-momma. We… We don’t h-have one anymore.” As if the realization struck the child for the first time, he wailed out with cascading tears, “We’re lost! She- She told us to c-come down here and wait for her- but… but she n-never came back!”

At the heightened sound of distress from the boy, the others seemed to answer his cry by making small chirps and churrs. The noises had a warmth to them, a nonverbal communication of comfort and safety that even Splinter himself could feel. His heart softened at the obvious love the children carried for each other.

“It is alright.” Splinter gently soothed, lowering himself to his knees so he didn’t appear so frighteningly tall. “You are all welcome to come with me. My home is not too far from here. There are blankets and a fireplace so you’ll be nice and warm. I even have some food to fill your bellies with.” He stated in the most welcoming tone he could muster. He didn’t have that much experience with handling children, the life he once knew being one of loneliness, but he had grown up with younger siblings. That had to be enough.

The child’s lip pouted in thought as he pondered Splinter’s invitation. The great Master was partially relieved to see the young boy being cautious of trusting a stranger, but the dropping temperature demanded that these little ones find a place to stay, and soon. If they didn’t go with him, the children would be left to the dangers of the unpredictable city above. The sewers seemed to be the only safe place for outcasts like them- anywhere else was shadowed with the looming terrors of government organizations and greedy scientists.

A loud sneeze sounded from behind the boy, making his trembling form jolt. He turned around to look at the others, his eyes wide with worry. “Is Mikey okay?” He asked in a small voice drowning in concern.

The red-hued toddler glared daggers at Splinter with his hazel eyes as he slowly leaned back, allowing the purple one room to sit up. What Splinter once thought was just a blanket in the child’s grasp proved to be so much more. There, swaddled tightly in the blue cloth was a very tiny, very pale baby mutant turtle. Its eyes remained sealed closed as if it hadn’t yet had the strength to open them. Pale mint spots decorated its head. It must’ve been no bigger than Splinter’s hand.

“I th-think he’s cold, Leo…” The purple one whispered, his squinting hazel eyes meeting the red one’s matching pair. A pitiful whimper crept past his lips as he pulled the baby in his arms closer to his plastron, seemingly hoping the heat he carried in his body was enough to keep the infant warm.

The crystal-eyed boy, or Leo as the purple one called him, shriveled where he stood, his light blue irises glimmering with absolute desperation as he turned back to Splinter. 

The protective instinct pulsing within the great Master made his heart drum painfully against his chest. There was no doubt in his mind that if these little ones didn’t find shelter soon, that baby would undeniably perish. With a new wave of boldness sparked by the forlorn children, he edged closer and reached out his hand, a soft smile gracing his face. 

“I can help you, Leo. All of you.”

Leo’s face scrutinized the open palm before him, his shoulders slowly rising in insecurity. The child’s gaze rose to meet Splinter’s, and with a trembling voice asked a question that would either seal or end the forming agreement. 

“Y-You… You’re not gonna take us b-back, right?” 

Splinter’s expression thoroughly melted at the heartbreaking clarification. With assurance and peace that he didn’t understand but knew to be true, he opened his arms and said,

“I will take you all home.”

Leo’s eyes widened at the statement, large tears quickly making their way down to the tip of his chin. He turned to his brothers as if for confirmation of the group’s decision. “R-Raph?”

The red-hued turtle, or Raph, continued to wear the glare he had firmly carved into his rounded face, but nonetheless allowed the decision with a curt nod of his head. “Fine.” He grunted, his voice squeaking despite the low tone he was trying to force through his throat. 

Leo then turned to the purple-hued turtle. “Don? “

The squinting child, Don, also glared, though his face read more of being confused than hateful. Splinter couldn’t help the small smile that began to spread on his face when he saw the tiny freckles adorning the boy’s cheeks and shoulders. The markings reminded the rat-man of his own younger brother, something he would relentlessly tease his sibling for throughout their childhood. 

Splinter’s thoughts screeched to a halt when the baby sneezed again, causing all the children to immediately jump into action. Raph wrapped his arms around Don as the freckled boy clutched the baby closer to his chest. The realization in Don’s eyes was clear: The decision was made.

“O-Okay, Leo.” He whispered, his voice slightly smothered by the cloth of the blanket against his face.

With all his brothers’ agreement, Leo turned to face the rat-man again. “M-Mikey needs to get warm. He’s too c-cold!!” He cried out in clear concern for the sickly baby. His voice lowered to an agonized whisper that broke Splinter’s heart. “I don’t know what to do. He’s s-sick and I don’t know what to do! I n-need to know what to do!!”

The great Master’s smile grew as he held out his arms wider. “I will do everything that I can, dear Leo. I promise. You don’t need to carry this burden alone anymore.”

With that, Leo’s tiny body collided into Splinter’s chest, sobbing relentlessly as tears stained his exhausted face. The rat-man immediately embraced the boy in his arms, using his hand to tenderly cradle the child’s head. “It is alright. Shhh. Shhh, it’s alright. I'm here. It will be okay.” He softly hummed as he unconsciously began rocking his body back and forth to help settle the child. Tiny hands clenched tightly to the fabric of his robe, as if letting go would result in being swept away. 

Splinter rose off the floor, keeping one hand under Leo to support the child still clinging to him like a lifeline in a hurricane. He cautiously crept to the remaining huddle of toddlers, reaching out his unoccupied hand in silent permission.

Don immediately retracted from Splinter’s presence, pressing the baby in his arms to his heart. He let out a low, almost silent growl, to which Raph instantly joined in to the threatening chorus. 

Leo turned his head away from Splinter’s chest to face his brothers, stating in a placating tone that definitely sealed the great Master’s suspicions of him being the oldest of the brood.

“N-No, guys. It’s okay. He’s gonna h-help!” 

The two jade turtles gave a sideways glance at each other, silent communication happening between them as they contemplated what Leo said. Eventually the two relented, the growls ceasing as Don pulled the baby swaddled in his arms away from his chest to present it to Splinter. 

“He n-needs to get warm soon… Please.” Don whispered, his eyes remaining in a permanent squint making Splinter a little concerned for the freckled child’s eyesight. The violet-hued toddler gently held the baby out, his tiny fingers being oh so careful as he delicately placed the infant into Splinter’s outstretched hand.

The newborn’s head fit snugly in his palm, the contact with the baby’s skin confirming it had a rising temperature. That realization made the rat-man act as if the infant were a porcelain doll, gently pulling him up to his chest alongside Leo. The movement caused the blanket the baby was in to shift, revealing a small patch sewn into the corner of the cloth. Splinter leaned closer and silently read four names stitched neatly into the fabric:

“Leonardo~ Raphael~ Donatello~ Michelangelo”

The rat-man resisted his body’s natural response to take a staggering step back as realization collided into him. The facts quickly stacking into his brain of the children’s situation had led him to a heartbreaking conclusion- Four mutant children, cold from the rain and shivering in the sewers, with nothing but a blanket with all their proper names stitched inside- This had not been an accident, but a purposeful abandonment. 

“H-hey, Mikey.” Leo whispered, laying a single finger on the baby’s plastron peeking through the top of the blanket. The boy moved his finger in gentle circles on the tiny chest, resulting in the baby, or Mikey, stretching and yawning as he pulled himself closer to his oldest brother. Leo smiled. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna g-get you warm now.” 

. . .

A single tear fell from Splinter’s face as the memory ended, leaving nothing but love and nostalgic warmth in its wake. That night so long ago changed everything- He changed. His relationship with God changed. His relationship with the world changed.

He was given a true, unmistakable purpose in the forms of four tiny, mutant turtles.

Splinter leaned forward, a strained grunt escaping him as he pulled open the drawer to his side table. Delicately folded within was a small, blue blanket; the very cloth that Michelangelo had been swaddled in that night thirteen years ago. The rat-man’s fingers gently stroked the small piece of fabric as nostalgia filled his soul. 

Becoming a father in a single night was the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced. Scarier than moving to America, and even scarier than being mutated. When those events occurred, he was the only one that was affected by them… But as soon as four precious, little souls found their way into his heart, his life became more than it had ever been. It wasn’t about him anymore.

The responsibility laid on his shoulders shook him to his very core; The fact that he was now held accountable for four more lives on top of his own both warmed his heart and twisted his stomach. 

He quickly learned how selfish he truly was. There was no such thing as personal time when you became a father, nevermind a father of four. Keeping the home clean and caring for his sons made the very idea of ‘spare time’ feel like a long-forgotten dream. Every moment of his day was spent comforting, caring, scolding, shouting, cleaning, and protecting his newly acquired family.

Exhaustion seeped into his bones, and he found himself marveling at the strength of his own mother- how she’d raised two boys and one little girl all on her own. It never felt so incredible to him when he was young, but now, after struggling to survive raising four sons of his own, he looked through new eyes. It came off a little humorous to him how his mindset had so drastically changed once his role was switched from child to parent. Perhaps this was God’s gentle vengeance for how rambunctious and troublesome he’d been when he was a child.

Mother did always say that “children were a refining fire”… 

But despite the chaos, the messes, the hardships, and the learning curves, he knew he was right where God wanted him to be. What he once thought was a downgrade from man to rat turned out to be a promotion from sensei to father.

Nothing could match the swell of pride when he heard his children call out his name for the first time.

“Dad! DAD! Look! I finally got the kata right!”

“Hey Dad, let me hit ya in the arm and see if ya can take it!”

“DAAAD My math homework is demanding that I show my work on how I solved the equation.  Tell it I don’t have to!”

“I love you sooo much, Papa. Yer like the sun! You don’t ever go to sleep, and you’re always there even when I can’t see you!”

Another small smile spread along the great Master’s features recalling the past words of his now grown sons. The events of the day confirmed it; All of them were officially teenagers now. 

Splinter lifted the blue cloth and pressed it into his chest. He never imagined becoming a father, finding such worth and purpose in the lives of his children. It had never mattered that they weren’t related by blood, for the love the family shared always remained the same- never-ending. That same tenderness shone brightly within his sons as they did their best to bring the sickly girl in their home back to health. 

Something unexpected sparked inside, surprising Splinter with the possibility that their family might be growing again. Lotus he recalled. Her past was shrouded in darkness, and the bruises adorning her pale, jade skin further revealed the abuse she had endured within the horrendous labs. When Splinter and Leonardo had infiltrated that building in search of the twins, neither of them ever imagined that they would find her- another lost, mutant turtle. 

Or perhaps… Splinter thought, sadness weaving its way into his heart, Another abandoned child.

With a soft sigh, he stepped away from the faded pictures and words of his past, and made his way back to the present with dutiful intention. He recalled the fact that he had a certain fiery son who needed a talking to- and possibly a medical check up if the teen’s pained face was anything to go by. It would’ve been a lie if Splinter had said he wasn’t worried about Raphael. Truly, it made him very nervous that his son was already injured within three days of returning to their home. As much of a spitfire as the boy liked to be- instigating his brothers with playful taunts and causing fights- he rarely got himself injured in the process. Just that morning had been his first training session in far too long, so what else was there to cause such an injury?

As the concerning questions continued to pile on top of each other, growing the dread flickering inside the old Master, he finally decided that enough was enough. After returning the precious blanket to its drawer, he rose from the edge of his bed, his knees once again noisily acknowledging his growing steps in age and frailty. He steadily made his way to the door until a slight pang of discomfort squeezed the joints in his hands. He quickly adapted, opening the door with a calculated twist of his tail.

After leaving his room, his ears began to twitch at the sound of footsteps. Turning around, he nearly plowed into Raphael, the teen’s attention directed to his cell phone rather than his surroundings, most likely reading a text message. Splinter refrained from giving a lecture regarding the vitality of spacial awareness to a ninja, resorting instead to focus on the hefty task ahead of him:

Making his fiery son listen.

“Raphael-”

“-GAH!” His son gasped as his head shot up from his phone. A shaky sigh followed as he used his hand to pat his rapidly beating heart. “S-Sorry, Master Splinter! You scared the shell offa me…”

“I don’t believe that’s possible, Raphael.” The great Master retorted back, using his tail to tap the ridge of his son’s carapace. “I can’t imagine the amount of force one would need to pull out another’s spine.” He said with mischief in his mossy irises.

Raphael deflated immediately, rolling his eyes and moaning, “Ugh Dad, it’s just an expression…” 

“Mmhm.” Splinter hummed as Raphael returned to reading whatever it was that was displayed on his phone. The rat-man swiftly looked over his son’s form as the teen was distracted, searching for any more concealed injuries. Finding none on the surface, his gaze zeroed in on Raphael’s right arm. The great Master’s expression tightened when he realized Raph was favoring his left hand, using it to hold his phone even though the teen was known to be right-handed; It seemed his fiery son was still bothered by his injury. Splinter cleared his throat, making his son look back up to meet his gaze. He raised his white brows in question, giving a small gesture with his bearded chin to the device in the teen’s hand.

“Oh- uh, Don texted me. Told me to bring Lotus to the couch so she can rest. The uh, the Medbay table’s not exactly comfy.” Raphael muttered, rubbing at the back of his head and shrugging his shoulders.

Splinter’s gaze constricted again, becoming a deeper frown as he noticed the faded outlines of cracks over the skin of Raphael’s right arm. The same arm- he realized- the teen had been clutching back in the dojo. 

“My son, is there something you want to tell me?” He asked in a tone as casual as a breeze and serious as a storm.

The boy’s posture immediately straightened. “Uh…no? Why… do ya ask?” Raphael replied, his face subtly shifting from confused to nervous.

Splinter sighed.

Gentle prodding never worked when he was a child so why would it now?

“Hmm- let me try a different question- Raphael, there is something you need to tell me. What is it that happened to your arm?”

The boy's face fell immediately as he swerved the limb in question behind his back, as if hiding the wounded appendage would do anything to help his side of the argument. “Uh- NOTHIN’.” 

Splinter’s frown quickly escalated to a knowing glare. “A lying tongue does not belong in the mouth of a man who stands for truth, Raphael. Choose your next words wisely.” He chided sternly, holding out his hand to his son. 

That boy never makes it easy…

The teen’s heterochromatic irises darted left and right, clearly searching for a way to escape. “B-But!”

“Raphael Kisho Hamato.” Splinter rumbled, his warning slow but drenched in potency. “Give me your hand.”

As always, being referred to by his full name seemingly scared the boy into complete silence, causing his shoulders to shoot up and his head to lower as if he were about to escape into the safety of his shell. Eventually he came to the conclusion that there was no way out of his predicament, so he relented and held out his arm to his father. 

The great Master took Raphael’s arm while maintaining a steady pressure. Whenever the teen winced or grunted his father would reply with hushed apologies as he continued the examination of the faded marks littering his son’s jade skin. 

“It…” The boy timidly spoke up, his volume uncharacteristically small as he turned his gaze away, “It’s from the lab.” He whispered, shame squeezing his voice in a painful grip.

Splinter forced back the immediate surge of anger blazing within him. He should’ve known better than to leave his sons in the hands of the captious city above- a world where equality and acceptance were nothing more than empty promises to him and his kind. “Freak!” “Abomination!” “Creature!” Threats and slurs echoed in his ears, voices of past men and women who no longer saw him as a colleague… But a monster. 

He forced a calming breath that did little to alleviate the pain finding its way to the surface. “How did this happen?” He asked gently but gravely. 

The boy’s gaze remained planted to the floor, his eyes creasing into a subtle wince whenever Splinter pressed onto the thin scars. “I um… I got injected with something. But I guess it didn’t work… Still hurt like shell though…” The last of his sentence was barely recognizable with how he spoke under his breath. Thankfully, rats were designed with acute hearing.

“Did you tell Leonardo of this? I’m sure he would want a further examination to clarify if you’re alright, my son.” Splinter asked in a fatherly tone that both requested and demanded his son’s obedience.

“N-No!” Raphael surprisingly cried out, waving his other hand, “No, you can’t tell him. I’m fine! It just aches sometimes, I swear!”

The great Master cocked his head in mock confusion. “I can’t tell him?” 

His son’s face twisted into a grimace as he realized how much had been revealed through his words. “I-...”

It seems I was wrong to presume all was well between Raphael and Leonardo. Their years of growth and recovery have yet to complete.

“Raphael.” Splinter warned, “Surely I do not need to remind you what happens when you hide your injuries from those who want to help?” He made his point by turning his son’s palm over to display the faded scars of ropeburns scattered across the teen’s hand; More proof that Splinter had failed in the past to see the needs of his hurting child. “Why don't you want your brother’s assistance?” He asked, concern clear in his words as he soothingly rubbed healing circles into the long-faded wounds etched into his son’s skin. Without realizing it, the great Master’s gaze wandered to the lightning bolt chipped into Raph’s plastron; Further proof of the teen’s struggles that he had kept from his family; Secret battles that had been fought without the proper armor, eventually leading to disastrous consequences.

Raphael’s body tensed at the tender words of his father. Slowly and cautiously, the teen pulled his eyes from the ground and met his Sensei’s gaze. “It’s not that, Dad. Things are just- they’re… They’re different between me and Leo now. I don’t…” Raphael’s eyes began to glisten, resulting in the teen immediately growling and hiding his face into his hand. In a trembling voice very rare for his warrior son, the boy hissed, “I can’t screw this up again…”

The great Master’s heart pulsed lovingly at Raphael’s explanation. He thanked the Lord for the caring spirit his children all possessed, shown in their own unique ways. But as with all things, there must be balance. Replacing hatred for guilt would do nothing to heal what had been hurt.

“My dear boy.” Splinter’s voice soothed like warm tea on an aching throat. “It is true that your past with Leonardo has strained your relationship. But I have also seen healing- true progress in both of you. As the years passed and you grew in understanding, your bond began to mend. But this progress means little if you continue to hide your pain from your brother.”

“I-It’s not like I want to!” Raphael defended as he slowly pulled his arm out of his father’s grip. His voice was strained, thin and fraying like Michelangelo’s hand wraps mere moments ago. “He’s just got a lot on his mind right now- one too many problems. And I don’t want to be another to add to his growin’ list.”

“Hmm. I understand the concern you carry for your brother. But you must trust that he will speak to you if you are becoming a burden he can no longer carry.”

Splinter had to restrain himself from taking a step back at the expression of utter betrayal plastered all over his son’s face.

“That’s the problem, Sensei…” The teen replied with a bitter tongue, “I can’t trust him to tell me. The guy’s a major hypocrite! You think I’m bad with hidin’ my scrapes and bruises- but Leo’s been carryin’ all kinds of guilt about me and Don gettin’ snatched! Worst part is he didn’t tell anyone ‘til we had a friggin’ intervention!”

Splinter hummed and nodded, processing his fiery son’s words. 

“It’s bad enough bein’ the leader and carryin’ all the responsibility with it, but on top of that he’s the team medic! Ever since we got home he’s been goin’ nonstop. I haven’t even seen him eat anything yet, and it’s been over two days! ‘Treat your body like a temple’ MY A-”

“-Ahem.” Splinter warned, his tail curving dangerously like a whip about to lash out- Another way he had adapted when it came to the discipline needed in raising four boys. No vulgar language was ever allowed in this home. 

Raph grumbled but complied, letting out a defeated sigh. “All that to say, Sensei… No. I can’t trust him to tell me the truth. He’d probably just lie straight to my face.”

Splinter couldn’t argue against the teenager’s statements. It wasn’t a complete shock to hear that Leonardo wasn’t caring for his body as he should either. With a regretful sigh, the old Master shook his head. “I see your point, Raphael. But whether you’re wrong or right doesn’t change the fact that you need this wound to be examined further. Especially if it is still causing you pain.”

“B-But I told you it’s really not that bad! You can tell, look!” Raph gestured to his arm, and began to poke it for emphasis of his wound’s apparent recovery. The facade remained unconvincing though, as Splinter still noticed his son’s eye slightly wince with each poke. “The scars are all faded, so they’re probably healin’ just fine!”

Splinter’s gaze once again met with the scar carved deep into the skin over his son’s heart, an expression of sheer guilt bleeding into the rat-man’s features. “Unseen wounds can be the most dangerous, my dear Raphael.”

The teen gingerly followed his father’s gaze, and upon reaching the lightning bolt chipped into his plastron, his whole body struck rigid. His hazel and green gaze instantly shot back to the floor as his breath began to quicken. 

I have gone too far… Splinter realized dejectedly.

Returning to the needs of the present rather than drowning in failures of the past, the rat-man leaned forward and rested a steadying hand on his quaking son’s shoulder. “Now that this has been brought to my attention, you will go to Leonardo and let him tend to your wounds- willingly or not. Am I clear?” His words were spoken in blatant authority, but his soft tone comforted with the gentleness of a worried parent.

Raphael’s trembling breath eventually steadied. With a sigh of resignation, he slowly nodded.

“Very good. I shall accompany you to the Medbay, just to make sure your journey is quick and unfaltered.”

The fiery teen’s head rose just enough to reveal he was rolling his eyes. Despite the blatant sass dripping from his son’s expression, the great Master could still detect the hints of fondness in his multi-colored irises.

“Gee…thanks, Dad…” Raphael drawled, a thin smirk finding its way onto his lips.

“You are welcome, my beloved son.” Splinter replied, his tone playful but his heart overflowing with endearment.

Raphael paused at his father’s heartfelt words, his expression shifting as he seemingly began to ponder them. His face twisted as his gaze once again found its home on the ground. With a slight tilt of his head the teen gestured to the awaiting hall, signaling that the conversation had officially reached its end. 

I shall respect his boundaries. Splinter thought to himself as a weighted sigh left the rat-man’s nose, The walls he has built may bring my heart grief, but that does not negate the truth that they were formed by his hands.

The Lord allows us the choice to trust in Him- Therefore I must give that same liberty to my own children.

…No matter how much it hurts.

With nothing more to say, both father and son began the short journey to the Medbay.The two traipsed side by side, silence filling the gaps of sound between their soft footsteps. 

That's it for this chapter! Guys- I gotta be honest with you- this was by far the most difficult chapter I have ever written in my life. Many fanfic writers agree that writing for Splinter's POV is a test on the author's part by itself. And then on TOP of getting his inner voice, mannerisms, and dialogue right, I also had to figure out the backstory of how he and his little adopted family came to be.

Just- YIKES. XD But my glorious writing Sensei, @poetique823, guided me every step of the way, giving helpful critiques and compliments to show me better how to write this complicated chapter. :) She saved my sanity~

Thanks for reading! Feel free to reblog!

@indieyuugure @writer-in-wonder @allyheart707 @oddartistl3 @risebabyx2 @joyjoygorl @carrots-bear @imagionationstation @howtotrainyourdragonprince @jasminegazer @brightonstudios @ninjaturtlefan-dee @rottmntlover14 @eggbem @lydjachan @sashatrout @chaosborb @maddys-nerd-blog @alexthecreature @dorkatella @thetanzanitequill

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, comment down below! (That way when I post the next chapter you'll get the notification!)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[ii-shippy-kids]

INANIMATE INSANTY SHIP KIDS ASK BLOG!!

People you can ask:-

✦ Juicecarton [8 ♀️] and PaperCup [15, He/him] [OJ n Paper]

✦ Yinyang [17 he/him, adpoted] and Gel-candle [13 she/her] [Silverspoon n Candle]

✦ Bot [technically 4, mentally 17 they/them] and ChemicalCup [0 ♀️] [Fan n Testtube]

✦ Glowstick [12 he/him] [Lightbulb n Paintbrush]

✦ Candy [ 10 they/them] [Marshmallow n Bow]

✦ Flask [13 he/him] and mefon/jk [Testtube n Cabby]

✦ Lemon [15 she/her] [Mic n Taco]

✦ BarSoap [3 ♀️, Adopted] [Soap]

✦ Electric hand-dryer [14 he/him] [Mepad n Toilet]

✦ SIM [10 she/her] and Dual [5 ♂️] [Mephone4]

✦ Cheesecake [4♂️] n Prize [12 he/him] [Trophy n Cheesy]

✦ Air balloon [13 he/them] [Suitcase n Balloon]

✦ Bubble Balloon [8 she/her] [Balloon n Nickel]

✦ Tearing [7 she/her] [Lifering n TK]

✦ Cucumber [10 he/him] [Knife n Pickel]

You can ask the parents stuff too!! Also they are kids, please be appropriate.

ASK ARE OPEN RN!!

✦ This is run by @mostmefonforeperson and art by @yourlocalplanetlover

✦ This takes place after ii 15, before ii 16

✦ most kids live with both of their parents except for Lemons, Hand Dryer and Air Balloon

✦ Season 2 is at hiatus, everyone is in the Hotel OJ [except Taco, Mepad, Handdryer and toilet]

✦ insert normal DNIs

this blog is inspired by @/ask-ii-ship-kiddos and @/objectshownextgen

Anddd thats about it!!

[apocalypse-shuffle]

VALENTINO & VOX | ⅔ of THE VEES (Hazbin Hotel)

—

“Live Demonstration” (Valentino & Fem!Reader & Vox)

| After constantly fighting their authority Vox sends you to watch an execution in order to scare you into submission; Valentino couldn’t make your situation any worse if he tried.

| SFW, 16+, non-romantic, no polyamory, non-sexual, canon typical violence & gore, (TW: descriptions of a brutal death, Valentino, but no seriously the Vees kind of are their own trigger warning in this fandom), this shit is mean

| A branch-off oneshot from this post (an imagine), but can also be read as a stand-alone.

| Pic source: Hazbin Hotel S1

| 1k+ words

⚠︎ I DO NOT ENDORSE VIVZIEPOP (& associated parties) but I did watch the show and wanted to write for it , so idk ⚠︎

You’re still standing, rooted in place with your gaze stuck on the singular severed finger that managed to survive the feeding frenzy. It’s the only thing in the tank you can still see at all; the clear water had gone a red so thick you couldn’t see any of the sharks except for when one of their fins grazed the glass.

Everything around you feels staticy like it hasn’t since you first spawned in Hell trapped in a body completely foreign to you. Being forced to function with misshapen limbs like a bird thrown from the nest didn’t hold a candle to this shit though.

The speakers lined high along the walls around you come to life.

“Are you finally finished with wasting our time with your fruitless escape attempts?”

Vox’s voice booms unavoidably through the room, every decibel of his lax tone overflowing the floor of the tower you’re on and flooding your brain to the brim.

Where your arms are crossed your hands wrapped around your forearms tighten.

He sounds less like he just ordered a man to be eaten alive right before you and more like he’s booking a frivolous appointment for a wife he can’t stand, put upon sigh and all.

A few moments pass where the hopes you had for escape and revenge fall to pieces at your feet. Directly afterward you blink away the veil of red in front of you and look up to nod at one of the dozens of cameras around you.

“I’ll be needing verbal agreement, actually,” he drawls, voice still loud enough to vibrate your internal biological systems.

The grip you have on yourself is starting to ache.

“Yes, Vox. No more escape attempts, you’ve made your point.”

The camera you're talking to is as unfeeling as ever but you’d take the clinical paranoia of constant observation over a personal visit from Vox any day. You knew how quickly he could get to you and you did not want to tempt him.

“I sure hope so,” he mutters, voice cutting and snide, before his voice animates for the first time since he began speaking; show host cadence coming out in full force. “Glad we could finally come to such a beneficial agreement for us both!” He cuts the act then, tone mellowing, “Now, try not to do anything too drastic, I’ll be needing her for a presentation in an hour. Otherwise I don’t care what you get up to.”

He clicks off, the speakers going dead once more.

With a clipped breath you glance around the room after his final warning, brows furrowing.

That hadn’t been for you.

What you find after turning around makes you stiffen and the sinner to blame grins at you from where he’s leaning inside the door frame, all four arms crossed over his torso.

You blink, face dropping as his name falls like stone from your mouth. “Valentino.”

One of his bottom hands lifts so he can wave his fingers at you and then he’s pushing off the door to saunter closer. His steps are too deliberate for you not to rock back on your heels where you stand.

He sighs, this airy melodramatic thing that doesn’t sway you to him one bit. As if your personal interest was of any actual concern to him though.

“Voxy’s so mean sometimes, isn’t he? Forcing you to watch all this.” Stopping beside you he casts a disgusted look at the bloody water that managed to spill over around the sides of the tank. The sight of it makes you shiver and Valentino looks at you, his mouth flipping into a frown as he reaches out to clasp a dainty hand atop your shoulder.

His eyes are sparkling when they meet your own though, and his grip is too firm. Even his body is commandeering too much of your space despite his slender figure.

A thick perfume permeates from his glands that you’d probably find pleasant smelling in another context, tangy and sweet as it is; it’s similar to how you never once found the sound of CPU fans whirling unpleasant until being around Vox long enough to equate it as the precursor to his patience waning and his ire compounding right before he ordered something drastic and sadistic. Or how the staccato clack of heels never used to make you start cataloging exits till you met Velvette and her fatal storm of demands for absolute perfection and unrelenting need to snuff out her competition.

His thumb digs harshly into the edge of your shoulder blade.

“Pobrecita,” Valentino coos, his other upper arm coming up so that he can press his fingers into your cheek and force you to keep your gaze on him. His thumb swipes through the tacky tear line running from your eye and he clicks his tongue. “He’s too harsh sometimes. Personally I wouldn’t have put these pretty tears to waste, but you know how Vox is. Too much machine, not enough man.”

He talks like you’re friends. Like his platitudes do you any favors. Valentino and Vox are similar in that way; rarely did their delivery ever match the situation or social cues of the moment. Velvette was often the same but after your internet beef a few days back she’d grown bored of you and moved on. As of now her chats with you had mellowed into something that could be seen as amicable out of context even.

With you successfully cowed you suspected Vox would soon do the same, only bothering with you when he had need of you.

Valentino however….

You watch the way he abandons the frown to let his grin curl back over glossed lips and something in your gut tightens.

Looking up at another one of Vox’s cameras from over his shoulder is useless but you do it anyway. There was no doubt in your mind that he was watching, just knowledge that sat like a weight in your gut that he sure as shit wouldn’t be your savior.

“It’s okay to admit you were scared, you know?” His smile hitches a little higher and his antennae twitch. “Were you scared? Did the little bug's death hurt your feelings?”

His words make you rankle.

“I’m fine,” you ground out.

The Overlord scoffs like you’ve said something absurd and suddenly it’s as if yellow wallpaper shifts in your peripheral.

Black, and female, and delusional— hysterical; that’s what you’d be now if he did something to you and you went crying around about it, nevermind that your dark ever-shackled flesh had been ripped from your core and replaced with something more demonic, you hadn’t been a patron of Hell long enough for your human mind to corrode entirely. And you were yet again unfairly bondaged regardless.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” in an instant his grin turns from placating to harsh as his expression storms over, “I like that you’re scared. Vox gets so sexy when he puts his foot down, but you? You get a bit unremarkable, if I’m being honest.”

He flicks one of his lower hands, rolling his eyes.

“You glaze over like a wet cat. Hm, Miedosa? Those tears weren’t only from frustration were they?” He shakes his head. “If you felt so bad, why didn’t you go in there and save them then?”

The hand on your cheek shifts to grip both sides of your jaw. He shakes your head, fingers tight as they grind into your teeth through your skin and leave an ache that swiftly travels through the rest of your face and settles.

He regards you coolly, the way one might an ant.

“Nothing? Alright, I’ll tell you why,” he purrs, eyes going lidded as he leans in, “it’s because you’re our bitch now. And bitches do as they’re told.”

For a second all you do is gape, eyes wide and mouth open as much as his grip will allow. That doesn’t last awfully long.

Soon after you’re sneering wordlessly up at him, hands balling at your sides so harshly they tremble.

Valentino chuckles, dark and coiling and somehow just as all encompassing in your brain’s real estate as Vox’s voice over the intercom had been.

“I can’t wait to ruin you,” he whispers, eyes burning through you as he racks his gaze over your face before he’s pulling away and walking off without another word.

You hear him say something ridiculous to Travis from the hallway but it doesn’t alienate the tension strung through you like a live wire and for over a half hour you stare, face void of expression, into the closed door he’d come through until Vox calls for you.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

I— deeply apologize for Valentino, I do. My little blurb with him kind of got away from me if I’m being honest, but I’m not even kind of mad at it.

Also, I’m almost completely sure that my use of Pobrecito/a is correct (I’ve had it said to me for years, I just had to look up the spelling), but my use of Miedosa I’m not as sure about. I wanted to post this now, but I will be changing shit accordingly once I get “outside consultation”. Either way I’m not a Spanish speaker so don’t take me as a source.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Spanish words of the day (how they were used in this fic): “Pobrecita” - poor baby.

“Miedosa” - Scaredy Cat; Coward.

Alt. Banner (scrapped) —

[fuckyeselucien]

Creator Highlight #16 - @shadowisles-writes

Today we’d like to highlight @shadowisles-writes. Shadowisles is a true treasure in the Elucien side of the fandom. She’s both a talented writer and a beloved friend to many. If you get a chance to talk to her, her wit comes through with her quick sense of humor and her top tier takes on every character. 

A true master fic writer, shadowisles has written 44 ACOTAR fics, including 18 Elucien fics! Equal parts sweet and spicy, she will have you giggling and kicking your feet in one fic and blushing in the next.  Her writing is the kind that you can’t peel your eyes away from, whether you’re reading about Elain and Lucien fighting over the best study seat in her academia series or canon Elain following Lucien all the way to the Day Court. Every fic is a treat that leaves you craving more! 

Below are a few favorites, but you’ll want to read all the fics on her masterlist, here! 

So Long, London 

"You swore that you loved me but where were the clues, I died on the altar waiting for the proof."

After the war with Hybern, Elain is welcome back into Graysen Nolan's estate to marry him. Elated to live the life she dreamed of, Elain learns to glamour herself to fit in among the humans of their village. Unable to keep away on her wedding day, Lucien paces outside until the very last moment he can interrupt to beg her to reconsider, except the scene he walks into is anything but a wedding.

I’m With You 

Without the urgency of war looming over Prythian, Elain begins to question if the Night Court is where she belongs. Her mate travelling at will between courts and the human lands fills her with the longing to accompany him. Except being alone with Lucien in the Day Court means confronting conflicting feelings, which only get more complicated as secrets and threats to her safety emerge.

Or: the one time the lyrics "And if you need a light, I’ll be the match to your candle, my darling," made me daydream about Day Court Elucien for weeks.

Tethered 

Elain moves to university after the semester has already started and finds herself stuck outside in the cold after the fire alarm goes off in her building. Lucky for her, a red haired neighbor is willing to share his blanket, and a lot more than that too.

Want to nominate someone? Fill out the form HERE.

[aishwrites]

Birthday themed prompts:- 🎂🎂🎂

1. Person A is really sad because no one except Person B attended their birthday party. Now B is determined to cheer A up.

2. A set of magical birthday candles that grant real wishes. Person A didn't know that the candles were magical and made a dangerous wish as a prank, but now that wish is becoming real, and A must race against the clock to stop the damage done by their wish. B and C try to help.

3. Person A is alone at home on their birthday. But then at midnight the birthday theme song starts playing from somewhere nearby. They don't know who or what is playing it.

4. Person A decides to propose to their long time partner Person B at their birthday party.

5. A and B are best friends and birthday twins. They always celebrate their birthdays together. B has a huge crush on A, and on one such birthday party, decides to confess their feelings.

6. On their sixteenth birthday party, Person A receives powerful magical powers.

7. There's a prophecy which says that Person A would become powerful enough to kill the Dark Lord on their twentieth birthday. Now A is eighty. Everyone thinks the prophecy is fake. But A was born in a leap year, and the prophecy only includes leap days.

8. Person A receives a necklace as a gift on one of their birthdays. Except the necklace is magical and can teleport A wherever they wish to go.

9. Person A is a werewolf and during one of their birthday parties, they learn that their best friend, Person B, has been hiding a secret from them. Turns out, B is a vampire.

10. Person A runs a bakery. One day they receive an order to make a birthday cake from Person B, their regular customer. Except the cake needs to taste like blood, because B is a vampire.

11. A young couple is celebrating the very first birthday of their baby. But then they discover that the baby is a changeling. They still decide to protect and love him though.

12. A birthday party where every single food and drink is enchanted with magical powers.

13. A birthday party of a wizard where every gift he receives has some magical properties.

14. A hotel where people go to celebrate their birthdays. It's a night full of spells and charms, enchantments and potions. In the morning the guests are convinced that the magic was fake, except they are wrong, and the hotel is fully magical.

15. Person A is Person B's rival. But one day they notice B crying because they are lonely on their birthday. So A decides to cheer B up and throws a small birthday party for them.

16. A large family has assembled together to celebrate the ninety-ninth birthday of their matriarch. A mysterious long-lost cousin appears during the party.

17. A birthday on top of a cruiseliner. Except the waters surrounding it are dangerous, with plenty of magical creatures underwater.

18. A prince wants to attend a mermaid's birthday party because he loves her a lot. He makes a deal with the sea-witch to give him the ability to breathe underwater. In exchange he loses his voice. (Inspired by Little Mermaid obviously 😁)

19. A lonely prince is secretly having his birthday party in the forest. But the animals and magical creatures of the forest love him and decide to join him on his birthday. They even bring gifts for him.

20. Person A and Person B are workplace rivals. So A is very surprised when B is the only one who remembers their birthday and even brings a gift for them.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember me? (Part 16)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: eh. i dont know.

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Meeting was a fancy word for revel, really.

All the High lords were drinking and laughing among themselves in groups of twos and threes after they had returned a few moments ago.

They had gone off to a small room nearby along with their inner circles and guards to discuss whatever it was that high lords discussed. Eris had not wanted to leave Y/n's side, a muscle feathering in his jaw when he had left without her, his fists clenched.

But he had not left without glaring at every male in the ball room.

Y/n hid her smile behind her glass, taking a small sip of the fruity wine as she thought back to the way everyone had shrunk into themselves at his gaze.

Without even realising, Y/n's eyes began searching for that familiar head of fiery hair, and she found him standing next to the high lord of the summer court, nodding along as he spoke.

But he was already staring straight at her.

The heat from the bodies that pressed up against each other and danced around the floor would never compare to the heat that spread through Y/n when her eyes met his.

She shot back the rest of the wine, only to realise there was nothing left. Sighing, she stared into the depths of her cup, and the last dregs of the wine stared back.

When she lifted her head, Eris was no longer next to Tarquin, who was now smiling at something his cousin said.

Y/n's brow furrowed, and, huffing, she turned to make her way to the refreshments table to get herself more wine. Because, after she found Eris staring at her, she knew she was nowhere near drunk enough to get through another evening of longing glances and tenson filled words.

But she was met with a wall of muscled chest right in front of her face. So close she had to stumble back to take a breath.

"What the hell?"

Eris mouth was a cruel slash of a smirk as he surveyed her, the light from the majestic chandeliers made of faelights and candles reflecting in his eyes.

"What?"

"Why are you here?" Not exactly what Y/n had wanted to say, but she hardly said anything she wanted to these days. So this was not a surprise. It was as if her brain stopped working whenever he was near.

Leaning his shoulder against the wall, he sighed dramatically. Turning his head, he let his gaze sweep the huge chamber, resting for a moment on the orchestra that played a fast paced song. "And here I thought you missed me."

Y/n scowled, though she doubted he could see it. "What are you here for Eris? Is there something you wanted to say? Or are you here just to be dramatic?"

His smirk only widened as he glanced at her, and she huffed. "Do you know how to dance?"

Y/n blinked, deflating a little as she pondered the almost nonchalant question. "Yes." She mumbled quietly, studying his posture, wondering what his intentions were. "I had to learn and become good at it."

He nodded. "I don't."

He seemed to be lost in thought as he said, as if he had not intended for he words to slip but he had spoken them aloud instead of just thinking them.

"You don't?"

Eris glanced at her, shrugging. Y/n's gaze caught on his goblet as he did so, and she wondered if it would be okay to snatch it and down it herself.

"I wanted to learn, but I did not have time to. Will you... teach me?"

Y/n blinked, her neck warming. "Me?"

He nodded matter-of-factly. "You get to dance so you don't get bored, and I learn to dance. It's nothing more than a transaction."

She felt an unexplainable twinge of hurt in her chest at that, and she pushed it aside. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hand along her skirts for the millionth time that evening as she nodded. "Alright."

Eris straightened, his eyes widening just a fraction. There was a glint in his eyes she could not identify, but before she could decipher it, he spoke. "Really?"

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his goblet. And then, without thinking or considering the fact that it could be a stronger beverage, tossed it back and swallowed.

She regretted it immediately.

Sputtering at the weird taste of the drink that was definitely not the fruity wine she had been drinking, she stared at the goblet in her hand in disgust. "What the hell was that?"

"That was whiskey." Y/n's head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at him when she found him grinning. "This is why you don't steal someone else's drink."

She scowled, shoving the glass into his chest and turning away, trying to swallow the weird taste. It was no help.

She took a few steps away, wondering why she was getting so pissed over nothing. When she realised she was pushing through the crowd and he wasn't even following her, she turned to glare at him over her shoulder.

That was enough to scare him as he hurried to keep pace with her.

Standing on the edge of the dance floor, Y/n released a breath, trying to let loose the side that had adored dancing.

It had been the only time where she could not worry about being offensive without meaning to, could stop worrying about which court cockroach her father would marry her off to.

The previous song came to an end too soon for Y/n's comfort, and she took a deep breath before turning to look at Eris. He stared back at her. And then, his lips curling at the edges as he offered her his hand. She placed her hand in his, and instantly her heartbeat seemed to calm down.

In the back of her mind, she noted that he had discarded of his goblet somewhere.

He led her onto the dance floor with the grace and efficiency of a dancer who had danced for centuries, totally at odds with his statement of not knowing to dance.

As if feeling her skepticism, he slowed his pace down, glancing at her uncertainly. She narrowed her eyes at him, and his eyes sparkled.

He stopped and turned fully to face her, his brows lifting a little.

"What if you step on my toes?"

He tried to pout. Special emphasis on tried. "I won't."

Y/n sighed, then guided one of his hands to her waist. It tightened instantly.

She glanced at him for a moment, and found a subtle blush on his cheeks, though it could just have been the lightning playing tricks on her.

"So... Now what?"

Eris questioned once the fae around the two of them had begun dancing to the new tune. It also did not go unnoticed by Y/n that they maintained a little distance from Eris and her.

"Now we dance. Just follow me, I guess."

•○🌑○•

She let her body relax as the music picked up again after the applause from the audience died down. She could see the nervousness mixing with something in Eris's eyes.

The music that flowed through the ballroom was a soft but fast paced one. Not as fast as the previous one, but not slow enough to be a couple's waltz. Her heart seemed to be beating in turn with the beats of the song.

She dug her fingers into his shoulder as they made a particularly complicated turn, the fine embroidery on his expensive crimson coloured jacket that clung to his frame crinkling. The jacket was tight and loose in just the right places, putting his body on show for everyone watching. It almost made her want to act on the irrational and unexplainable urge pull their eyeballs out.

And, even though Y/n knew she would never do something like that to anyone, the thought brought her a little satisfaction.

She blinked a couple of times to try and focus again on Eris and his dancing.

Eris picked up fast. He was a good dancer. A little too good, considering he claimed to never have danced before.

Y/n's suspicions only grew with every moment that passed.

He was a little unsure at first, and his nervousness had almost seemed… forced. But she did not pay much attention to that as she focused on guiding him and making sure to stay away from the other couples.

It amazed her how someone like him, someone who was said to be one of the cruellest males in history, had wanted to learn something so elegant as dancing.

It made her wonder, what else had he wanted to do, what else did he have passion for that he as forced to stop in favour of becoming the powerful and cruel male everyone made him out to be.

Made her wonder if he had a different upbringing, would he have turned out different?

Y/n skin seemed to have taken on a perpetual warmth, and her body refused to cool down, especially when Eris slowly seemed to pull her closer, his hand having wrapped tighter around her waist.

She felt a bead of sweat rolling down her spine as they continued twirling around the floor, Eris now having taken over the dancing as he guided her through a series of practiced motions. Y/n realised that he had lied about his knowledge- or lack thereof- in dancing.

It was in no way the season where the weather was hot. But Autumn court people had fire in their veins- at least most of them did- and that, combined with them most of them lusting after a person in the room, made the heat rise.

Eris's hand on her waist also did not help. His proximity, his breath on her face and neck, sometimes even brushing against her exposed shoulders and collarbones when he dropped the two of them a little. His eyes were blazing with something Y/n dared not name.

All of it made her want to scream.

They had been dancing for two songs now, and as the song began to come to its end, the attention of almost everyone turned to Eris and her.

Y/n wondered if he would leave before they could dance to the third song, as three dances in a row was basically a marriage proposal.

A small part of Y/n hoped he would continue dancing with her.

The last few notes of the song lingered in the air, ad loud applause sounded from the audience. Y/n knew without a doubt that everyone present was now watching Eris, curious as to what he would do next.

Y/n was right there with them.

Eris had not looked away for one moment. Not one. And now, as the sounds of the claps from the crowd died down, he continued to stare.

Even when the next song began, he did not remove his hands from her form.

"Eris" Y/n whispered, glancing around. "people are staring."

"I know."

She blinked up at him. "This will be our third dance."

"And?"

"We- we can't dance-"

"Do you want to stop?" He cut in, giving her a pause.

"Three dances in a row is akin to a marriage proposal. You know this Eris."

"And? Do you want me to stop?"

Y/n pondered the question for a moment. And she knew that he could read her answer in her eyes before she even spoke by the satisfied and excited smirk on his face.

"No, I don't want to stop."

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @tele86

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne @mybestfriendmademe @going-through-shit @thisblogisaboutabook @thehighlordishere @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival