#going to need as many interests rotating in my mind as mentally possible

[mystical-one]

perhaps its an omen of turbulent times ahead but in the last week ive been back on my bob dylan shit so so badly it feels like.this is becoming a case of unstoppable force (dylan harrison nexus) vs immovable object (monkees)

[mypersonmyg]

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante​ <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight,  tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine​

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns  just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon. 

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent. 

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece. 

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.” 

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?” 

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.” 

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin  to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?” 

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.” 

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art. 

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks. 

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway. 

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now. 

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you,  Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek. 

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust. 

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts. 

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded. 

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.” 

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms. 

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due. 

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit. 

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure. 

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze. 

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you. 

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with  a countering taunt. 

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots. 

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe. 

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses. 

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves  to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest. 

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.” 

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling. 

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete. 

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.” 

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

 Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from  the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity. 

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas. 

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms. 

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence. 

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival. 

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you. 

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord. 

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink,  already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile. 

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity. 

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door. 

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance. 

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.” 

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--” 

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you. 

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation. 

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” 

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”  

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting  Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil. 

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission. 

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat. 

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago.  “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?” 

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks. 

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down. 

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with  a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans. 

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion. 

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space. 

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud. 

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning. 

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe. 

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?” 

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.” 

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?” 

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.” 

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop. 

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown. 

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it. 

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay. 

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.” 

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.” 

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest. 

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

 It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare. 

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed. 

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above. 

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo. 

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find. 

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.” 

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end  and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work. 

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.” 

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf. 

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a  rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent. 

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine. 

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix. 

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied. 

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.” 

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum. 

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.” 

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays. 

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips. 

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!” 

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.” 

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry. 

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute.  “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.” 

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him  painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth.  “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?” 

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!” 

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place.  In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation  over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside. 

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud. 

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work. 

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so. 

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of  pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.” 

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face. 

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders. 

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?” 

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?” 

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles. 

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.” 

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?” 

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.”  Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago. 

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin. 

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff. 

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.” 

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk. 

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.” 

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.” 

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.” 

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest. 

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance. 

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job 

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner  

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello. 

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance. 

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page. 

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you. 

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here. 

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you. 

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf. 

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.” 

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.” 

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour. 

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor. 

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving. 

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance. 

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk. 

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length. 

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.” 

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.” 

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.” 

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?” 

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again. 

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take. 

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran. 

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?” 

“What do you know about my meeting?” 

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits. 

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him. 

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?” 

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded. 

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids. 

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest. 

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.” 

“Scared of needles?” 

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.” 

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier. 

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you. 

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.” 

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived. 

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him. 

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from. 

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?” 

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.” 

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him. 

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?” 

“Hm?” 

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly. 

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more. 

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.” 

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…” 

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…” 

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind. 

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.” 

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye. 

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern. 

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken. 

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you. 

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.” 

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…” 

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?” 

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much. 

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.” 

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!” 

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold. 

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture. 

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…” 

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…” 

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.” 

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth. 

“Why are you opening a tea shop?” 

“What?” 

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?” 

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.” 

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.” 

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?” 

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.” 

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?” 

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules. 

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.” 

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.” 

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?” 

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.” 

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.” 

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes. 

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible. 

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange. 

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung. 

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you. 

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.” 

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom. 

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home. 

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils. 

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.” 

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.” 

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.” 

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away. 

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up. 

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response. 

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone. 

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time. 

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa. 

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening. 

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.” 

“You think so?” 

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…” 

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago. 

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.” 

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.” 

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space. 

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?” 

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.” 

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.” 

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner. 

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you. 

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.” 

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.” 

“I don’t yell at Jimin!” 

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.” 

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk. 

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going." 

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.” 

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…” 

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.” 

“You guys didn’t have to.” 

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous. 

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.” 

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.” 

“Or...you could come?” 

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence. 

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.” 

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud. 

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.” 

“I promise I won’t be long.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

And now, we smile. 

[wizardofahz]

Sentinel vs. CatCo

Kara sighs internally as she spots the Superfriends whiteboard.

While it has become a permanent fixture in Andrea’s office, it doesn’t always feature so prominently. The focus of the meetings determines its location. If it’s an internal meeting unrelated to the Superfriends, it can be pushed off to the side: towards the balcony or in front of the cabinets. If the meetings involve board members or anyone Andrea wants to impress, it’s tucked into a corner and discreetly covered.

Today, the Superfriends whiteboard stands right beside Andrea’s desk, which means their meeting is going to entail more requests for Superfriends interviews.

Kara braces herself.

And then Andrea says some of the worst words possible: “I want an interview with Sentinel.”

Kara wills herself not to react. On the other side of William, Nia actually snorts.

Nia has worked her way back into Andrea’s good graces, but Kara very much doubts that openly snorting at their boss’s request will lead to another mental health day. Before Andrea can react, Kara says, “I, uh, I don’t think she likes giving interviews.”

“That’s what Nia said about the Superfriends,” Andrea says, completely undeterred, “and we have since gotten interviews with most of them.”

As much as Kara hates to admit it, Andrea’s right. They never participate in puff pieces about what they do for fun, but when they have a cause to promote, they lend their voices in support.

Through his PI work and with his deep ties to the alien community, J’onn had been encountering many others who were also the last of their kinds. With an interest in preserving these alien cultures, he had dedicated a portion of the Mars space in the planetarium to a rotating exhibit of those cultures. He had also teamed up with Kara to revive her Aliens of National City series for a special feature.

Brainy had volunteered for a live public service announcement when a toxic chemical spill had breached the boundaries of an industrial complex and threatened nearby neighborhoods. He had been a little too thorough with the technical details though, and Dreamer had had to intervene to make it more vernacular friendly. His PSA had been big with the scientific community, where some of his equations had been beyond current understanding and sparked contentious debates.

Nia had done a fantastic interview of the new Guardian about marginalized human communities. To quell any curiosity, Guardian briefly mentioned that she wasn’t ready to reveal her identity, but she did reveal that she had the previous Guardian’s blessing to pick up the mantle. Annoyingly, most media outlets chose to focus on that rather than the deep dive into intersectionality.

Alex hadn’t done any interviews. None of the Superfriends had thought twice about it.

Until now.

Knowing how private Alex is, Kara can already picture her reaction to this request.

“If it’s about the ratings, I could get another exclusive from Supergirl,” Kara volunteers. “You said she’s the ideal Superfriend for interviews.”

“Mmm, but we’ve had Supergirl,” Andrea says. “We’ve had all the other Superfriends. We don’t know enough about this Sentinel.” She taps the board under Alex’s picture where it says “HUMAN?”. “Is she fully human? What is her motivation? If she is human, how did she come to join the Superfriends? I want to know.”

“And if Kara’s right?” William asks. “We seem to get interviews with the Superfriends on their timeline, not ours.”

“Then get yourselves on their timeline,” Andrea says. “But I’ll be generous and give you a week instead of 24 hours. If you still fail, well, you’ve heard me say your alternatives enough by now.”

On their way out of Andrea’s office, Nia passes by Kara and mutters, “I’m not touching this one.”

Kara cannot disagree with that life choice.

“What did Nia say?” William asks.

“Nothing.”

...

Alex looks up from her console as Kara enters the Tower. “Hey, what did you want to talk about?”

Knowing how little Alex will appreciate the conversation, Kara says, “You love me beyond measure, and that will never change, right?”

Alex turns around completely, resting her back against the console. She crosses her arms. She knows the difference between Kara approaching her abandonment issues and something Alex will find unpleasant. “Yes? Am I going to change my mind?”

Kara grimaces. “Andrea wants an interview with Sentinel.”

The look of horror on Alex’s face would be hilarious in any other circumstance. “Why?”

“Because you’re the last Superfriend not to give an interview. Andrea thinks that makes you mysterious and intriguing.”

“Not happening.”

“I figured as much. I tried offering up a Supergirl exclusive instead.”

“I love you.”

“Well, she didn’t bite.”

At that, Alex’s head drops back, and she stares at the ceiling.

“I'll write something up anyway,” Kara continues. “Hopefully it will keep Andrea happy in the meantime.”

“Thanks.” Alex gestures for Kara to come in for a hug. “I know you don’t like puff pieces either.”

“It’s okay,” Kara says into Alex’s shoulder. “I’ll find something meaningful to write about.”

...

Alex glances around the downtown street. Luckily she, Brainy, and J’onn had arrived in time to stop an Infernian from destroying a private lab. The police had also shown up and set up a perimeter, which was helpful as a crowd had developed to the south.

“Sentinel!”

Alex spots William Dey at the front of the crowd. "Oh, hell no.”

She normally likes William well enough, but given what Kara told her about Andrea’s request, he’s now on her list of the last five people she’d want to see at any given moment.

“I gotta get out of here,” Alex tells J’onn. “You and Brainy got this covered, right?”

They look over to where Brainy is explaining his containment technology to the police officers taking custody of the Infernian.

William says her name again.

J’onn glances at William then back at Alex with amusement. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

...

“Sentinel!”

Alex looks across the chaos of overturned cubicles and office supplies to see William Dey approaching.

Alex frowns. How did he get here so quickly?

Luckily they are on the fifth floor of the building, which means Alex has an exit strategy William doesn’t. “Supergirl, meet me outside.”

“Copy that.”

A few of the windows were broken in the fight. Dreamer already has the offending meta-human contained, so Alex doesn’t feel bad leaving William behind.

Alex picks the window with the cleanest break and jumps through.

...

Andrea drops something on Kara’s desk. “What is this?”

“An interview with Supergirl,” Kara responds after a quick look.

Andrea sighs. “Kara, I know you heard me when I said I wanted an interview with Sentinel, not any Superfriend.”

Kara shrugs. “I couldn’t get ahold of Sentinel, neither could William, and Supergirl had something she wanted to say.”

“Did you ask Supergirl about talking to Sentinel?” Andrea asks expectantly.

Kara blinks. “I think they have more important things to do than to act as messaging services to one another.”

“It’s not your job to think about their priorities. It’s your job to think about CatCo’s priorities,” Andrea says. “Get me an interview with Sentinel. You, specifically. And again, I don’t think I need to give you the consequences spiel. You have 24 hours.”

Kara reaches out to clear the Supergirl interview from her desk, but Andrea snatches it back up.

“I’m still publishing this.”

...

Kara looks apologetically across the couch.

Just as Kara had tried to give a Supergirl exclusive to spare Sentinel an interview, Alex is now giving an interview to spare Kara’s job.

“Okay, I have to make this on the record, so let’s maybe do a rehearsal.”

Alex sighs but shrugs her agreement anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

Kara hands over her notepad where the questions are written out. “These are the questions I’m going to ask you.”

“You already know the answer to most of these,” Alex says as her eyes glide down the page. “And there’s no way we can publish them.”

“I know. That’s why we’re rehearsing. We’ll have to come up with something that’s real but not revealing.”

Alex balks. Kara doesn’t have to wonder which question its at because Alex reads it out loud. “‘You’ve been a super hero for a while now, but this is your first interview. Why now?’ Seriously?”

Kara grimaces. “Yeah.”

“Because my little sister’s boss is a pain in the ass.”

“Alex.”

“Right, come up with a fake but real answer.”

But their quest for acceptable answers is a tedious process that comes up short.

“I can’t do this,” Alex groans and flops back into the couch cushions. “How about I promise that when I have something to say, I’ll say it to you? You can have that promise on the record.”

“I’ll try,” Kara says. She’s also tired, and she hates forcing this on Alex.

Andrea won’t be thrilled with it, but Kara will make it work.

...

The next day Alex sighs in relief at Kara’s single emoji text.

A thumbs up.

[ontheblock]

it’s my mental illness and i get to chose which character is vent through❗️❗️anyway, i have been struggling with writing the ending of the second part of my latest patrick hockstetter request and since this has been sitting in my notes for a hot minute, i decided to post it. enjoy this little story absolutely nobody asked for<3

night terrors

no warnings ig- maybe alcohol

Summer never really was plagued by night terrors the way Morty was haunted by them. Whenever she did have a bad dream as a little girl, her parents let her cry it out unless she came to their room themselves. The rare times someone did come over was when Beth was blackout drunk and Jerry followed the soft wailing of his daughter to pet her head while he listened to her sob story of a nightmare. It never helped that Jerry basically coddled baby Morty whenever he woke up - a desperate attempt to even out the neglectful way they treated her first child because they were kids themselves. But all of Jerry‘s attempts were fruitless. Summer heard Morty whine and whimper almost every night through the drywall, even more so since Rick arrived. It was ironic for her to turn out fine with her mother’s neglectful ways. Jerry should’ve maybe considered listening to Beth more with Morty. Or maybe it was meant to be like this. Poor fucker. If his nightmares didn’t take form of bullies anymore it was definitely the looming danger of acid drooling monsters or aliens smart enough to conquer their planet if a self-proclaimed god in a lab coat fucked with them. Yeah, that sounded terrifying for a child. Or maybe the thing he feared most was more simple and childish - their grandfather who took out threats like that for breakfast. But tonight wasn’t a night like that. Summer didn’t wake up from Morty hitting his bedroom wall out of reflex. It was some faceless nightmare of her own that sent her lurching upright with a struggle for air. Whatever it was, she didn’t remember much aside from Jerry‘s face and a leathery hand reaching for her out of the black abyss surrounding her but she felt the aftermath of a sprinting heart and sweat sticking her tank top to her back. Her throat was dry enough to make her reach out to her empty bedside table. She never put a glass of water by her bed, but then again she never needed it.

Swiping back a stray hair, Summer pushed her blanket off to stand up on wobbly legs. She made her way over to the door, stepping over the creaky floorboard. The hallway was quiet but as she crept down the stairs, Summer noticed the flickering lights of the TV pouring out the living room. She had half the mind to blackmail Morty about watching TV on a school night but she definitely kept the info in the back of her mind for tomorrow’s breakfast as she avoided more creaky floorboards on her way to the kitchen. The moron even turned down the volume.

"Morty, I swear to god. Your nightly water trips are getting on my- on my last nerve."

Summer blinked once, twice to place the voice. The distinct alcoholic slur and the audible frown was familiar to her even in a sleepy state. And surely, it was Rick. Shuffling closer, Summer could peek over the couch‘s back to see her grandpa lounging in his oil stained wife beater, tinkering with a cube shaped hunk of metal. Like this she could see his hands at work, talented fingers coaxing loosened screws into their threads. He hissed a low "me cago en tu madre" when the phillips head slipped from the screw he was working on. Summer could make out the blue mesh of veins under the withered skin on the back of his hand. Rick really did have the hands of a worker - a mechanic or construction worker. They looked nothing like the office worker hands of Jerry, if he had even that. He seemed to sense her presence - if that was even possible - because his head turned to look at who he assumed to be Morty.

"Summer? What the fuck are you doing here?"

What was she doing here? She came for a glass of water but her throat was less parched now and something about her mysterious grandpa reeled her in like a damn fish. She took her bait and ran her clammy palm over the couch cushion by her grandpa‘s neck. "I woke up, obviously. I had a nightmare. No big deal." Her eyes pointedly stayed on Rick‘s hand holding a screwdriver or the coffee table with half a bottle of whiskey standing next to Rick‘s feet that he casually propped up onto the wood but she never met his gaze. Why was she even this honest? She could make some kind of excuse but it’s been months since her family showed interest in what she was doing. "Nightmare, huh?" Rick echoed her as if to taste the word on the tip of his tongue. Summer wondered if he had nightmares sometimes. She nodded, eyes finally flickering to his face. The TV casted lights and shadows on his old features. Right now he looked normal, not like that crazy scientist with a mean silver tongue that intimidated her the first time they met at the breakfast table. Summer was used to see the hollow green glow following Rick like a fucked up halo or even the zapping blue rays from devices that can both end and create wars. But now the angular features showed a different side. The soft studio lights of some late night show made him look like a regular addition to the family and it helped Summer release her tense shoulders for the first time in a while, like she didn‘t need to be sarcastic or indifferent all the time. A little voice in the back of her head told her that Morty could be his awkward idiotic self so why couldn’t she?

"Why are you up, grandpa?" She leaned her front against the couch back and kept her voice down just in case Morty did wake up again. "I‘m - bergh - well over the age of bed times. This piece of shit is m-more important." Rick averted his gaze and waved the cube in his hand. Summer hummed and reached for it only to have Rick shuffle it to his other hand and hold it out of reach. "Well, what is it? Can it, like, cause mass destruction or something? Or does it contain a totally freaky virus? Or—" Rick shushed his granddaughter and tossed the cube on the coffee table. "Calm your tits, Summer. It‘s- It‘s to cure Granorian crystals. The, the, the-" Rick rotated his hand as if to underline his search for the most simple explanation "-easiest planet to harvest them happens to have the most impure growth." His hand fell into his lap, the other one snatching the whiskey from the table. "You should go to bed. It’s Tuesday." Summer snorted but it sounded off. "Since when are you the responsible grandparent?"

"I‘m not." His gaze locked on the TV again and he knocked back a sip or two of liquor. "Just thought I get one night free of my annoying grandkids." Ouch. Rick delivered both praise and insults in the same gruff tone - not that he had many kind words to spare, save for Beth when he needed to get his way. "What do you need them for? Can’t you just get, yknow, earth crystals?" Rick belched after a deep gulp from the bottle and dismissively waved his free hand in Summer‘s general direction. "Don’t think about it. Do me- just do us a solid; go back to bed, Summer." Rick expected a bit of huffing and a snarky comment before Summer relented and went back upstairs but he saw her unmoving in his peripheral vision. Summer stared down at the couch cushion‘s seam as if it told her whatever kind of questions were important to a girl her age. Probably if that one guy in school liked her or not. Her fingers rubbed over a stain that looked like red wine her mother spilled last Christmas. "I don’t want to. It’s not like I can go back to sleep anyway. Not- It‘s not because of the dream or anything. Just-" Summer stumbled over her words to find any excuse that would save her the embarrassment of admitting she was a little scared to go back to sleep again. She bit the inside of her cheek when Rick cut her off with a long groan. "You really are Jerry‘s kid. You‘re- Y-You know dreams are just- bullshit hallucinatory experiences aaaaall the way up the hippocampus? It’s not- It’s imaginary, Summer. Just your dummy ape brain processing a bunch of shit while you’re asleep." Rick‘s tone was agitated while he gesticulated but he still scooted closer to the left, ultimately creating more space on the couch. Summer didn’t know where dreams came from, she wasn’t interested in it either but she silently rounded the couch to sit down next to her grandfather. Being this close, she would smell the faint whiskey breath and the Old Spice lingering around her. It was nice for once, calming even. "You know, I‘m not staying because I’m scared because that’s totally lame." Rick just grunted in some kind of indifferent agreement but Summer felt the need to clarify her decision even more. "I mean, it’s just a dream. I‘m not a loser like Morty. I don’t piss my own bed. That‘d be totally— gross." Summer turned back to Rick, fully expecting him to not even pay her any mind but when they locked eyes Summer finally shut her mouth. She never saw a look like this one on Rick‘s face. Not even around Morty - who was quite obviously his favorite grandchild and Summer reminded herself that she didn’t care about that.

Right now Rick‘s withered features looked almost soft even though the hard lines on his face didn’t even out at all. Maybe his resting face just looked mean like that - maybe he was frowning for so long that it became the default for Rick. But still, he looked almost fatherly. Summer‘s pathetic little attempt to look tough in front of the most powerful man she knew stirred something dead in his ribcage.

He remembered a tiny Beth sneaking into their old kitchen where Rick was fixing a leak in the sink. A single glance at his wrist watch told him it was time for Beth‘s nap because if Diane didn’t make her take one Beth would be tired and grumpy all evening. He tried to shoo her back to her room but only got a tantrum out of his daughter until he reluctantly set his task aside and laid down on the living room couch with Beth resting on his chest until Diane came back with their groceries.

"Yeah, sure. What - uhrp - Whatever." Rick looked back at the TV and Summer fell into his silence, her back sinking into the soft cushions. She barely followed the plot of whatever Rick was watching. It looked like some 70s war movie with bad explosions and subpar camera quality. Rick didn’t seem to be the type for nostalgia so it probably just happened to be on at this time of night. The dull colors made her lashes feel heavy again and she let her eyes roam the coffee table Rick still used as his footrest. The cube laid by his foot, forgotten until Rick needed to purify his drugs alien crystals. The whisky bottled left a wet little spot on the wood that she knew Rick wouldn’t wipe away. Jerry wanted to replace the table for a week now. Morty‘s latest comics were scattered on the other side of the table. He always left them in the living room because the idiot just has to get distracted two pages in. An unfamiliar pack of Newport Reds Non-Menthol caught her eye and Summer took a quick glance at Rick. If he noticed, he ignored it. Rick did always have the remnants of cigarette smoke on him but Summer never seen him with one before. There was probably a lot that Summer didn‘t know about her grandpa. She wondered how much her mom really knew about him.

The movie crept close to its finale when a warm weight sank onto Rick‘s thigh. He lowered the bottle from his chapped lips to find soft ginger hair draped over his khaki pants. He went still for a moment with his granddaughter‘s head on his lap. This was territory he hadn’t wet his toes in for decades. Rick wasn’t a stranger to the warmth of another body but this was tender and innocent, enough to take him back in time. He downed the last of his whiskey in one gulp and indulged in the hot rush that followed. The credits rolled on the screen while the bottle neck dangled from his bony fingers.

"How drunk are you right now?"

Rick hummed as if he was doing the math in his head before answering. "Wasted." He put the empty bottle on the fuzzy carpet and shimmied his feet off the table without disturbing Summer in her position. Not that he would admit that.

"So in the morning this didn’t happen?"

Rick took his sweet ass time eyeing Summer and weighing out an answer before he gave a low "yeah, Sum-Sum" and looking back at whatever commercial was on. If Rick ever was good at anything it had to be pretending. He could pretend for Summer just this once too.

[hunflowers]

Skating Lessons

Word Count: 15k

Requested? Nope, but you always can here :)

Mood board

A/N: She is here! She was a doozy to write but I love her so much and I hope you do too <3 Enjoy babydaddy!Harry, and if you do (or if you don’t) throw some feedback my way, really helps a girl out y’know. *nose boops*

“Y/N!”

It was the voice she hated hearing. The voice she despised. The voice that brought her stress more than anything else in her life.

The voice of her landlord. Old Man Chris as she likes to call him. He was the typical stingy, grumpy old man that owned a small little apartment and hardly gave the young girl room to breathe when it came to rent money.

She always gave her money, albeit sometimes a day or two late, but that didn’t change the fact that she still gave him his expected money. This time was a little different however, seeing how she was already a week late, and at this rate going on to be two weeks late.

But, she was so close to giving him the money, plus a little extra to hold her over for next month. All Y/N needed was a few more days. Money had been very tight this past month for reasons she’d rather not discuss with Chris, and she knows she’s in the wrong, but she will get him that money.

Flipping onto her stomach in bed, Y/N holds her pillow over her head to try and drown out the incessant pounding on her front door. It was most likely just past seven in the morning, and Y/N had a very long day yesterday, so all she wanted to do was sleep away her worries for just a little while longer. Clearly, Old Man Chris had different intentions.

Y/N let out a very guttural groan as she threw off her blanket, slid her feet into her fluffy slippers, and wrapped her robe around her body before stomping to the door with a faux smile plastered across her face.

“Morning Chris,” she chirped, looking eye to eye with the man who looked like he was ready to stab her. Although he seemed like a miserable old man, he wasn’t always so bad. When the two met, Y/N was in a much darker place than she is now. Chris has children of his own so when he saw how desperate she was for help, his heart yearned for her.

It was a love-hate relationship the two shared.

“Is there something I can do for you, so early in the morning?”

He gave Y/N that knowing look that she had seen every month that she’s lived here. The look that said you know why I’m here, now hand it over. And in return, every time, she gave him that sheepish smile.

“Y/N, I can’t let this go on any further.”

“Chris, please, you don’t understand. I promise just a few more days,” she begged, clasping her hands together and bringing them up to her chin. He sighed, shaking his head and placing his hands on his hips as he looked down to the floor. She had a soft spot in his heart, so it was always so difficult for him to put his foot down, but he couldn’t let this go on any further.

He looked back up at her, noticing the way she pouted her bottom lip just like how his daughter does when she wants something. It’s hard for him to say no. “You have until Sunday, Y/N. I mean it. I can’t accept this anymore. Don’t pay your rent on the fifteenth, and I’m kicking you out.”

Y/N nodded her head graciously, not knowing whether or not to hug her landlord. He wasn’t too keen on human contact so she just gave him her brightest smile as he walked back down the stairs that led to her apartment.

It was Thursday, meaning she had two days plus the rest of today to gather up as much money as possible. One of her jobs pays tomorrow, and despite other bills she has to take out of that money, she should still have enough to get her that rent money.

Closing the door behind her, Y/N looked around at her apartment, taking in a deep breath and deciding to make herself some coffee since there was no chance she was going to be able to fall back asleep. Not that she had the choice to anyway, because she had to get downstairs as soon as possible if she wanted to keep her apartment.

By the time she managed to get the tiredness out of her system, it was a little past eight-thirty. Y/N locked her door behind her, hurriedly running downstairs and to her day job.

From nine to six, Y/N ran her ice skating lessons down at the local ice rink. And although there weren’t a lot of people that came to her for lessons, by the time six o’clock rolls around, Y/N is beyond exhausted.

But then seven comes, and she’s running to her night job as a waitress to one of the more popular restaurants in town. And by more popular, it’s a nonstop rotating door of people walking inside until it closes at midnight. But, even though it closes at midnight, that doesn’t stop the people already inside from taking their sweet time in leaving. Last night, the last group of people left at one-thirty, and they didn’t even leave a good tip. She survives off minimum wage there, and even though she’s been working there for nearly a year, a raise was out of the question. The owners hardly ever pay more than what they’re supposed to. But they’re the only ones who’ve given her a job and at this point, she had no choice but to stay.

Ann and her daughter Olivia were the first to stroll in once it was nine in the morning. They always book the first slots every Tuesday and Thursday because they both claimed to be early birds. And it was good for them, because being the first ones means they get Y/N when she’s not completely wiped out.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Olivia said happily, running up to her skate teacher and giving her a big hug. Olivia had just turned six last Thursday, and she was the most exuberant six year old Y/N had ever met. She gets it from Ann, because like Olivia, Ann always seemed to have a smile on her face.

Returning the hug, Y/N squeezed the little girl, standing up and twirling her around before placing her back down onto her tiny feet. “Good morning, Livie! Let’s get started shall we?”

❊ ❊

It was almost five, and no one had booked a lesson within the last hour. Usually after school gets a bit busier, but of course, when Y/N really needs it to get busy, it doesn’t, leaving her to sulk around for an hour as she thinks of what she has to cut from her budget for the upcoming months.

As the sun sets, Y/N decides to cut time early, to give herself that extra ten minutes to herself in bed before she heads off to her second job. When she sits on a bench to unlace her skates, she hears the door to the rink open. Turning around to see whoever walked in, for a split second, the breath is taken out of Y/N’s lungs as she sees the most handsome man standing before her and the small girl clinging to his leg.

But, just for a split second.

Gaining her composure, Y/N puts on her best smile as they made eye contact, yanking the skate off her foot. “Are you Y/N?”

A little taken aback by the question, since she didn’t expect this fine man to be there for her, she could only nod her head in response. “Great! I was uh – wondering if I could sign my daughter up for lessons?”

Y/N looked at the little girl, noticing the shyness as she stood mostly behind her father. She had cute, big brown eyes that matched her dark brown hair. She had a bit of pudge to her rosy cheeks and it took everything in Y/N to not reach down and give them a pinch.

Y/N was a sucker for children. Well, other people’s children. She wasn’t so sure she wanted any herself. Too many things were bound to go wrong if she had a child of her own and she’d rather not give that human being a fucked up life like her own if she had any say in the matter.

“Uh, yeah, of course! I always love teaching someone new. Especially if they’re as cute as her,” she gushed, making the little girl’s cheeks redden even more, and a small smile wormed its way onto her lips. Y/N took notice of the girl’s missing front tooth.

“Well,” the man looked down to his daughter, a smile of his own on his face as he reached down and picked her up into his arms, “that’s great news! Isn’t it, Abby?”

Abby nodded her head quickly but then soon stuck her head into the crevice between her father’s neck and shoulder, looking away from the woman. Soon, with enough of Y/N’s charm, Abby won’t be too shy to even look at her. That’ll be one of Y/N’s missions, as well as teaching her how to ice skate.

“I’m Harry,” the man stated when he realized he hadn’t introduced himself properly yet. He stuck out his hand, waiting for Y/N to grasp it in a friendly shake.

“Y/N. Do you want to sign her up for private lessons? Or group ones? Or both?”

Then they worked out the logistics of when Abby was going to come in for her lessons, the answer being at noon every Monday, Wednesday for her private lessons, and Saturday with a group around her same beginner level.

When everything was settled, including the pricing for the private and group lessons, Y/N took notice of the time and that twenty minutes had passed. She cursed herself mentally, because instead of gaining an extra ten minutes of rest, she now lost ten. She lost time as her and Harry made small conversation over Abby’s sudden need to figure skate and how they had to go searching immediately. The entire time Abby stayed quiet though, hardly lifting her head from her father’s shoulder.

When Y/N escorted the pair out of the rink, Abby quickly glanced at her before ducking her head back out of sight. For some reason, Y/N found the little girl very interesting - not to mention adorable - so she couldn’t wait for Saturday to see her again and hopefully work the girl into warming up to her. Also wouldn’t mind seeing her father again. Although, Y/N did have this lingering thought in the back of her mind that he surely was off limits, because he has a daughter who has a mother, and that mother is probably his wife or fiancee or girlfriend, whatever the case may be. But, Y/N did take notice that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. Again, not that that means anything, because he could have a girlfriend, or maybe he forgot to put it on today.

So, Y/N pushed all intimate thoughts to the back of her mind because she deemed it useless, and didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Plus, she had a lot bigger, more pressing issues to think about.

When they finally started to separate, their small talk diminishing, a new voice spoke up for the first time that evening. “Daddy?”

Harry quickly looked to his daughter who squeaked out the soft call, raising his eyebrows in surprise, not expecting her to say anything in front of the stranger. “Yes, baby?”

“We get food now?”

Even her voice had Y/N swooning and wanting to coo at the girl. Abby was just that cute.

Then they officially parted ways, not before Harry spoke the words We’ll see you Saturday that had Y/N’s heart pick up pace for whatever reason. We’ll see you Saturday. We’ll see you.

We’ll.

Y/N can’t remember the last time something so trivial made her happy to see the next day. It was stupid, honestly, because why would something so small from someone so irrelevant in her life, make her this excited?

Only time would tell.

And clearly it made a bigger impact on her than she had intended. Because the moment she stepped into her restaurant for the night, her coworker, Kelly, who she likes to think of as her closest friend, immediately picked up on her brighter mood. Y/N was questioned without hesitation, because ever since Kelly met Y/N, she couldn’t help but feel bad for her because Y/N was always on the quieter side, keeping to herself and finding it difficult to open herself up to anyone who was interested. It was rare finding a genuine smile on her face, and so the fact she walked in actually happy something must’ve happened.

Y/N clearly denied because nothing did happen. All that happened was she met an extremely good looking dad with an adorable daughter and she was probably going to keep seeing them for at least a little while. It was just nice having something to look forward to lately.

“Make a move then!” Kelly continued on with their last conversation that had been interrupted.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the statement, finishing up making the bill for her last table. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“And why not?”

“He has a daughter which means there’s a mother who could be his wife or fiancée or girlfriend,” she stresses, turning to her friend with a bored look.

Kelly scoffed, “Or she’s not in the picture. Won’t know until you try.”

“Or I could save myself the embarrassment.”

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, y’know that?”

Y/N shrugs, her chin turning towards her shoulder in a mocking manner as if to say she’s proud to hold that title. She was being stubborn but for good reason. She didn’t feel this need to want to make a move and in the end she knew nothing good would come out of it because that tended to be her luck, so she was protecting herself and saving herself from any unwarranted feelings and such.

And the idea of Harry made her sad the more she thought about it. Because being in a relationship was something she couldn’t have. It just wasn’t in her future and over the years she’s grown to get used to that. So it was best she admired from afar, because that would be the only way she could stay… happy.

❊ ❊

Saturday rolled around a lot faster than usual. During a normal week it felt like years until the weekend rolled around – not that the weekend even really mattered because it wasn’t like Y/N got to go out and have fun anymore, but the idea of it being the weekend settled her mind because that was another week down the hatch.

It was also time to finally see Harry again. Maybe she was being dramatic because she only saw him two days ago so really it wasn’t that long of a wait, but Friday’s tended to be her most crucial day and it zipped by no problem.

Her normal Saturday crowd rolled around, and so far there had been no sign of Harry strolling in with Abby. Everyone else in her beginner group had arrived and she couldn’t prolong class any longer, so with a clap of her hands and an instruction to begin the basic maneuvers she had taught them, she tried not to focus on his absence. Why sign your daughter up and not show up? If anything that was more rude than anything, but maybe something important came up and all harsh thoughts flew out of Y/N’s head.

Around fifteen minutes after class started, the familiar clanky bang to the entrance of the rink sounded as someone threw open the door, causing Y/N to glance up, seeing an out of breath father and daughter with looks of nervousness etched across their features. Y/N excused herself for a moment to greet them, giving the pair a warm smile despite all of the negativity swarming her brain.

“I’m so sorry we’re late. Something came up and I– it’s not too late right?” Harry asked worriedly as his daughter just looked up to her new teacher with the same amount of shyness as Thursday.

Y/N dismissed his worry with a simple hand gesture to reassure him, beckoning Abby to sit down so she could help her tie her skates to her feet. She was clad in these pink patterned leggings and a white sweater to keep out the cold matching with little white skates that had pink laces. Y/N could sense the excited energy emitting from her little body the moment her second skate was fastened to her foot. Standing up with Abby’s hand in her own, the two looked back to Harry as he looked beyond nervous for his daughter to touch down on the ice.

“Try not to worry, she’s in good hands. You can go and wait with the other moms over there – and by the looks of it, they seem really excited to meet you,” Y/N paused as her and Harry looked over his shoulder to the mom’s who were ogling him without even trying to hide it. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at their overt staring, causing Harry’s cheeks to redden and for him to nervously wave at them. “Or you could always leave and come back at one-thirty.”

Harry nodded to her suggestions, taking a glance again at the woman standing around a table and still watching him. “I think… I’ll stay this time. See how her first day goes. I also don’t know how comfortable I am leaving her on her own for the first time just yet,” he rambled, running his fingers through his hair.

Y/N tried her best to hide her smile at how endearing it was to see him be so nervous for Abby, because it genuinely seemed like she was his life even if she’s only known him for a total of thirty minutes. It’s adorable. He’s adorable.

Leaving him to do as he pleases, Y/N led Abby to the rink, hand in hand, introducing her to the other children and going extra slow with her since she already missed a few lessons in regards to the other kids and what they could do already. And for her first day, Abby was doing a pretty job in getting the hang of feeling the ice and letting it glide her along. The little girl had skating in her blood, and Y/N prayed that she stuck with it because she could very easily have an inclination to the sport.

Every once in a while Y/N would look at Harry, seeing him avoiding the flock of mother’s and their constant whispering and staring at him as he stood against the edge of the rink, sometimes looking at his phone, sometimes looking at his daughter and standing upright every time she had a misstep.

That was maybe the most tumultuous and excruciatingly nerve wracking hour and fifteen minutes for Harry to ever have to sit through, even worse than medical school and interning and residency and everything else he’s gone through to get to the point he is now. Watching his daughter, his precious little girl fall on hard ice and trip over her own two feet countless times while he was helpless because he was off on the sides, was the absolute worst and he doesn’t know how he’s gonna manage this for however long she wants to do it.

When he finally got his hands on her again, he hugged her close and congratulated her on her good work for her first day, kissing her face a whole bunch of times to express how worried he was. After what seemed to be fifty kisses, Abby was shoving him away and giggling at how his stubble was scratching her face.

Y/N couldn’t help but stare at how relieved Harry was for the safe return of his daughter into her arms, all but cooing as he planted many pecks of kisses to her cheeks and nose and forehead. She also couldn’t help but wish he’d give her love and affection like that but she laughed to herself at her wishful thinking. Bidding her goodbyes to her beginner group and welcoming her more advanced, Y/N realized at the last moment that Harry and Abby had stayed behind, hoping to get one final word in before she had to go to her next group of kids. Telling her kids to get some laps in around the rink, Y/N made her way over to Harry and could immediately see how relaxed he was now.

This time, it was actually Abby to say something first. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Abby actually really liked her and couldn’t wait to see her again on Monday for her private lesson. “That was s’much fun! I’m g’na be so good my daddy thinks,” she gushed, hugging her father’s leg as she muffled her giggles against his jeans.

“You’re going to be an amazing figure skater,” Y/N responded, reaching her hand down for a high five from the little girl.

“Thank you for… not letting her get extremely hurt or anything. I’m sure my anxiety will go away soon enough,” Harry chimed in, his heart slightly fluttering at the sight of his daughter actually talking to someone without him encouraging her to do so.

“It would be strange if you weren’t nervous,” she shrugged, standing to her full height in her skates, which reached to just below his eyebrows. Turning around to see a few of the girls in their normal bickering fest, Y/N had to excuse herself to tend to her class, bidding her goodbye for the day to Harry and Abby.

And when Harry wasn’t the one to show up on Monday to drop Abby off but her nanny, Y/N couldn’t help but be disappointed. She can’t say she’s surprised since he’s an adult and probably has his own job to tend to at noon on a Monday, but as she guided Abby around the rink with simple skating motions, she wished he was standing against the rink watching them. Though it did spark a question in her, if the nanny was dropping Abby off, was it because there was no one else to look after her meaning he didn’t have a wife or at least someone who lived with him unless she too also worked which wasn’t an odd thing, but Y/N was an overthinker and maybe if she did grow the balls to ask she’d have an answer for herself and get rid of all of this underlying anxiety.

When their time was done for the day, Abby cheerfully said her goodbye, hand in hand with Natalie her nanny. And for the rest of the day, all Y/N could think about was something Abby said to her on the ice, something that sent chills down her spine that weren’t caused by the cool atmosphere of the arena. “My daddy thinks you’re pretty. I think he likes you, but y’can’t tell him I told you.”

❊ ❊

He didn’t come Wednesday either. And she was convinced he wasn’t showing up Saturday because that was just her luck. But, when he did ten minutes before the group lesson started, Y/N couldn’t suppress the smile and this overwhelming sense of relief. Relief about what? She couldn’t quite put her finger on. She figures it because she has a crush on him, and whenever anyone sees their crush it’s hard not to be happy. But that doesn’t settle well in her brain. She doesn’t like the fact that she’s happy to even see someone’s face, she shouldn’t feel this sense of relief that he’s here again, she shouldn’t be focusing on anything other than her jobs and how she was going to afford going grocery shopping this week.

Yet, she happily waved to Abby and blushed at Harry’s genuine smile towards her, immediately thinking of Abby’s declaration from Monday. She internally scolded herself for acting like a little teenager, urging her skin to make itself feel less heated.

It also didn’t help that she told Kelly about this and she had her nagging words playing in her head to just ask the poor guy if he has a girlfriend or a whoever. Abby ran to the nearest bench to remove her boots and tie her skates, which per usual she needed help from Y/N, which Y/N didn’t mind. Harry bent down near her, his hand a few inches from her knee as he picked up his daughter’s boots, their eyes quickly meeting before just as quickly disbanding, before he stood up and quickly shoved her things into an open locker.

And also as per usual, Harry’s heart couldn’t help but flutter as he watched Y/N act so domestically with his daughter, asking her about her day and tying up her skates. His eyes slowly scanned over the features over her face, taking in each little blemish that made her face hers, subconsciously smiling the moment she smiled at something Abby said. He found himself enticed by the way she held her hair back from her face with a bandana wrapped into the ponytail, and couldn’t stop himself from dragging his eyes over her sweater covered shoulders and the curves of her breasts in her shirt, stopping at where her hips sat tucked beneath her leggings.

“Daddy?” A small voice snapped him out of his daze, his face turning red in an instant at the prospect that he had just been caught staring; and he doesn’t even know for how long.

Licking his lips and darting his eyes to his feet then to his daughters face then to anywhere but her he stuttered, “Uh- yeah, love?”

“We going now,” she spoke, her eyebrows furrowing as to why he seemed so nervous.

All he could do was nod his head and purse his lips, sitting himself down on the bench to collect his thoughts. He repeatedly questioned to himself why he had to be so fucking obvious, all but smacking his forehead in embarrassment.

When she turned to walk with Abby, Y/N couldn’t help but smirk to herself as the image of Harry staring at her so intently was now permanently imprinted into her mind. He was checking her out, no doubt about it, and again that sense of relief flooded her body as she relived it over and over again. It was probably a mistake and it was probably one of those things when he just so happened to look at her when he went into deep thought about something totally not related to her, so she can’t hope it’ll happen again, but boy was it nice while it lasted.

When she was instructing everyone on today’s task and glanced over to him leaning against the outside of the rink, she noticed his eyes on her again, but told herself he was too far away to clearly depict what he was looking at and honestly he was probably only keeping his eyes on his daughter.

Because he wasn’t interested in her. Men like him don’t have interest in women like her; broken and unfixable.

It was a load of bullshit, because Y/N knew she deserved something good after all of the bad she’s faced and still currently facing, but he was just too good and someone like him could never settle for someone like her. He wore expensive clothing and his daughter was wearing one of the nicest brands of skates. He most likely had a very stable and successful career and there was no way he could settle for her, a girl who was always days late on her rent.

The unsettling reality made her jaw clench, her throat tighten up, and caused her gut to twist painfully.

If she hadn’t been put through this scenario before she’d say she would’ve broken out into sobs, but she held herself together for the time being, knowing she was going to let a few tears escape her tonight in bed. And, she’d never forgive herself for crying in front of anyone, especially the man that was the root of it.

Yet, her thoughts didn’t stop him from staring. And when she lapped around the ice, passing in front of him and watching his eyes look anywhere but her, it made her believe that maybe he was actually looking when he thought she wouldn’t notice. And suddenly she was back to rethinking before and how his light eyes fixated on her chest before trailing down the curve of her waist and stopping at her hips. It was a sight that would’ve made her knees buckle if she were standing.

When time was up for the day, Y/N let out a sigh at the thought of waiting another week to see Harry. Even if she didn’t let herself imagine a future with him, she still loved seeing his handsome face for the hour and a half they had together. She sounded so pathetic to herself, but when she saw him talking to one of the other mother’s, admiring the movement of his jawline and the dimple that would appear every once in a while on his cheek, it was safe to say she was utterly infatuated with the sight of him and she didn’t care.

Abby all but ran to her father for a hug, hobbling and struggling a little to balance herself on the blades, urging him to pick her up. Harry walked them over to the same bench from before, helping to untie the laces and hand her her boots and jacket. He was quick to notice that Y/N didn’t walk her out of the rink today, seeing her slowly gliding around in circles as she waited for her next batch of skaters to join her. His stomach dropped a little, his mind immediately wondering if he had done something wrong to warrant her unusual absence this time around. It wasn’t possible for him to have upset her anyway, he doesn’t think, so he stood up with Abby in his arms and neared the edge of the rink again, standing to where she was absentmindedly approaching as she was lost in thought.

She didn’t even realize she was about to slam into the wall if it weren’t for Harry sticking his arm out and preventing her body from colliding against the surface. Y/N quickly snapped herself back to the present, eyes going wide in shock as she put at least a foot of distance between herself and the wall, which also unlatched Harry’s arm from her waist.

“I’m – wow, I’m sorry I didn’t realize how close I was to the wall,” she apologized, scrunching her eyebrows at how she could’ve gotten so lost in her own head to not notice a wall that was approaching.

“Have nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged in response. “Just wanted to say thanks again for watching after her,” he ticked his head at Abby.

“And to say I’ll see you next Saturday. I’m not able during the week to drop her off but I tend to have off on Saturdays. So,” he pauses for a moment, “I, uh – yeah.”

Y/N nodded her head with a small smile, opening her mouth to say she’ll see him next week but he spoke again before she had a chance to push the words up her throat. “Unless I can see you before that.”

Her eyebrows shot up to her forehead, her head slightly cocking to the side at his sentence, wondering if he was asking what she thought he was asking. And again before she had a chance to question him, he beat her to the punch again.

“That was supposed to come out a lot smoother,” he grimaced, nervously laughing to himself as even his daughter looked at him with embarrassment for him. Y/N let out a small chuckle, trying to overlook the fact he just asked her out.

Guess that answers the question if he has a girlfriend.

“Well, I don’t know. Tonight’s my only night off and tomorrow is my only morning off and I think that’s a, uh, little short notice,” her words coming out a lot more sad than she intended. But, maybe at this news he’d say forget about it and just leave her to lonesome because that’s what was best. She needed him to turn it down himself so she wouldn’t feel guilty and so neither of them would harbor any feelings they didn’t need. It would certainly become too messy and Y/N didn’t need more of a mess in her already disorganized life.

But, he didn’t take the bait.

“Tonight works!” He rushed out, hitting himself over and over again mentally as he basically radiated desperateness. “What I meant to say was, I’m available tonight if you are.”

Y/N mulled it over as quickly as she could while on the spot. She couldn’t say no, she never said no, it wasn’t her to say no but there was no way she could possibly say yes. She had to maintain her level of normalcy and that included not going on a date with Harry.

“Yeah… tonight works.”

Well shit.

❊ ❊

“Wear the blue one,” Kelly muffled through the crunch of her chips.

“You think? My boobs kind of,” she paused, aiming the camera of her phone to the shirt on the bed, toying with the dip that sat on her breasts, “Spill out of this one.”

Kelly tilted her head, not blinking at her friend, slowly nodding her head and saying, “That’s kind of the point.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, tossing her phone onto her comforter to use both hands to hook her fancier bra on and slip on the long sleeve blue cotton shirt that tied around the front in a nice bow nestled between her breasts. It felt a bit much for a first date.

But maybe he would be intimidated and put off to how she was showing herself off and wouldn’t want to be seen out with her again. She could only hope.

He insisted he pick her up for the night, and even though he was only going to see the outside of her building, she was nervous he would just smell the poor that stunk up the area. It made her gut wrench and her heart to sink at the idea of him not liking her for her money – or lack thereof, but she really was going to try and enjoy the night.

She deserves one good night.

Her black flare jeans sat snugly on her legs, reaching just up past her belly button, leaving only a sliver of stomach visible between the shirt and jeans. The skin of her chest was a whole different story seeing as how there was basically nothing there to cover her up.

Picking up her friend again to show her final look, Kelly let out a squeal again through her chips, thoroughly agreeing with the choice of attire. “He’s gonna eat you up.”

“Well, I hope not. That’d be an awkward night,” Y/N snickered, tying a black bandana into her usual ponytail.

“Well if you’re lucky he will. In the good way of course,” Kelly winked, eliciting a groan of displease from Y/N.

“Do we know where he’s taking you?”

“Mm, no, he just said to dress casual,” Y/N shrugged, slipping her feet into her flat mules. She actually was pretty satisfied with how she looked for the night, hoping it wouldn’t turn out so horrible. It’d be a shame to waste a nice outfit.

A text notification sent to her phone, alerting her that Harry would be at hers in approximately five minutes. Quick to say goodbye to Kelly and promise to tell her everything, Y/N shut her phone and took the remainder of her alone time to really sit and mentally prepare herself for what was to come.

Trying to navigate how she feels about the entire situation was a lot to take in because it’d probably been close to a year since the last time she even interacted with a male let alone go on any sort of date. She was nervous and intimidated and her anxiety was sky high. She wanted this to go right she really did, but she couldn’t push away those doubts that she would ever meet someone who actually cared about her and properly had their head on their shoulders.

When her phone sounded another notification, Y/N was quick to gather herself and run out of her apartment, giving Harry no time to come to her door even if he wanted. Spotting him standing next to a very nice Mercedes, she had this flashing image of him grimacing at just the sight of her battered front door. But, she smiled at him nonetheless, appreciating the sight of him clad in a nice pinstripe button down shirt with the first two buttons undone, and nearly salivating at the sliver of chest being exposed to her.

And to make everything just so much better, he was holding onto a bouquet of various flowers, looking nervous as ever. Especially when he saw what she was wearing. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the sight of her exposed chest and he hates that his cock throbbed under his jeans. “You look… stunning.”

Y/N’s cheeks heated at the compliment, her head bowing down to look at her shoes before looking back up and taking the flowers from his outstretched hands. “Not too shabby yourself, Mr. Styles. These are beautiful, thank you. I don’t even know if I have a vase,” she nervously laughed, sniffing the flowers now in her hands.

“Just, uh- give me a second to put these inside.” And then she was turning on her heel and running back upstairs to toss these on the table by her front door. She made a mental note to buy a vase the next day, all while also keeping Kelly updated on what’s going on through texting.

When she came back downstairs, Harry was still next to his car, hands in his pockets as he looked around at nothing in particular. At the sight of her returning presence, he perked up, opening his passenger door for her. Even the inside of his beautiful car, the smooth tan leather practically calling to her as she neared closer. “This is a beautiful car,” she blurted, sliding into the passenger side.

He closed the door, quickly walking to his side and hopping in, “Thank you, she’s my baby. Aside from my actual baby, that is,” he chuckled, checking his blind spot before heading out onto the road.

The car ride to wherever they were going wasn’t exactly awkward but it also wasn’t the smoothest experience of their lives. It mostly was a consistent bickering back and forth of Y/N asking where they were going. He only had a couple hours in advance to plan something if he planned anything so how much could he have possibly planned for? But, she was excited anyway because this was nice being able to go out even if it were for just one night.

After around twenty minutes of constant back and forth of laughing and stubbornness, Y/N finally saw where on earth he was driving to. And it was the fair from a few towns over that was held this time of year every year. She’d never actually been herself, but she’s heard stories about how lovely it is and her nerves suddenly started to deplete and were replaced by growing bubbles of excitement.

Y/N can’t remember the last time she had been to a fair, if ever in her life and she sort of felt like a little kid in a candy shop. The moment he parked the car and turned it off, she was quick to unlatch her seat belt and jump out of the car, eagerly hopping on the balls of her feet, waiting to get further into the fair. Harry laughed at her giddiness, holding his hand out for her to take - which she easily slid her hand into his - and led her to the ticket booth to purchase a few rounds of tickets for the rows of games and maybe a ride or two.

“I don’t even think Abby was this excited when I took her,” Harry noted, admiring how happy his date was at the sight of cotton candy and the various stuffed animals kids were holding or were still being hung up.

Y/N hardly heard Harry, silently routing for the young boy trying to win his own date a stuffed animal at the ring toss. “Sorry… I just - I don’t think I’ve ever been to a fair, so this is really nice,” she responded softly, looking up to see Harry with furrowed brows before she retracted her gaze and focused on anything but his saddened eyes.

She didn’t mean to sound so depressing. Thinking about her shitty childhood was the last thing she wanted on this night, and she certainly didn’t want whatever pity was brewing inside that head of his. But little to her knowledge, all he was thinking was how badly he wanted to make this night unforgettable for her. And how badly he wanted to get to know her.

“What do you say we start with mini golf then?” He questioned, pointing towards the miniature mini golf that only had nine holes. “Up for a little competition?”

“Up for a little loss?”

“Oh, oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Fine, don’t come crying to me when y’lose, darling,” he shrugged, giving the worker the desired amount of tickets before being handed two clubs and two balls, one yellow and one red.

He lost.

Quite badly too.

And Y/N was smug the entire time. But in a completely endearing way, because ultimately she felt bad at how bad he was at mini golf. It was a makeshift set up so all of the holes weren’t even difficult yet somehow Harry managed to never get below a two on his shots. And the entire time Y/N was smiling at him and poking fun, and even though the night had just begun, she didn’t want it to ever end.

And to think she almost said no.

“I should’ve figured you’d be competitive,” he scoffed, mindlessly grabbing her hand back in his as they walked to their next stop. And she didn’t mind.

“That was not me being competitive,” she laughed, pushing his shoulder gently with hers. “Trust me, you’d know when I’m being competitive.”

“If that wasn’t you being competitive, then what is?”

Y/N thought about it for a moment, wondering if it were worth opening up to him even if about this. She just knew the moment she opened her mouth he would have questions and they were all questions she never wanted to answer. But, against her better judgement, she tore down her walls just a little bit. “I’m a figure skater - or was a figure skater. I don’t take anything less than winning. But back there, I maybe messed up a few shots so you could catch up.”

“Oh, how sweet,” he feigned appreciation, bringing his free hand up to his chest as if he was deeply touched. He was about to ask her a follow up question, wondering what she meant by was a figure skater, but she pulled him to the balloon dart booth, geeking out at the little rainbow bear that was hanging above the worker.

“You should get that for Abby! Told me she doesn’t have a favorite color, and I think she’d love a rainbow bear from her daddy,” Y/N insisted, taking the correct amount of tickets from Harry and giving them to the very bored teenage girl.

“Shouldn’t I be winning you the bear?”

“You can win me another one if you want. This one is for your daughter.”

Harry knew Y/N for a total of three days essentially. And he’s spoken maybe a few sentences to her before tonight. Yet, despite the logistics, he so liked her. There was something about the girl next to him that was adamant he win the prize for his baby girl instead of her that made his heart flutter and made his mind swirl. He hardly knew her, yet he could just tell she had a heart made of gold. Every other woman he’s been on dates with over the years were always immediately turned off to the idea of him having a daughter, begging his attention to be solely on them. But not Y/N. She was embracing Abby with open arms both physically and mentally, and that was an automatic yes in his book.

Abby was his everything, his light at the end of the tunnel, his eternal sunshine. They were a package deal, and have been for the past four years. That much was clear to Y/N whenever Harry talked about her, or how his face basically lit up at any question revolving around her. He didn’t go into much detail, but Abby’s mom wasn’t particularly in the picture anymore, so it was just her and him. They were best friends and Harry wouldn’t change that for anything or anyone. And Y/N respected that a lot, absolutely loving how close they were and how much she meant to him. It was sweet and deep down made her envious, wishing she had a relationship like this with her parents.

When he finally won the little bear, he was so proud of himself and agreed that it was the perfect gift for Abby, holding onto it as they walked over to the food concession for something to eat. “I bet she’ll never get rid of it. When she’s eighty and reminiscing, she’ll pull out the bear and immediately think of you.”

“Please don’t say that; I don’t even want to think of her being five,” he shuddered, letting out fake weeps at the thought of his daughter growing up.

“What about her dating? Hm? Wanna think about that?” She teased poking his side causing him to look at her with the nastiest glare he could muster before promptly turning his head away with a huff, his chin sticking high in the air.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. No talk about her dating or growing up, I swear on it,” she held up her three fingers in scout honor, making him chuckle at her gesture.

“Can I say how good she’s doing in her lessons though? She has a real talent for skating, I think she should go somewhere with it,” Y/N mentioned, grabbing their drinks they ordered as he held their food and walked over to a clear table nearby. “A lot of kids her age or at her beginner level can hardly keep their balance on the ice but, Abby doesn’t need to hold the wall or my hand and that’s only after three lessons. I’m not kidding, Harry, I think she’s meant for this.”

He nodded at her words, surprised at the revelation that Abby actually liked something and was good at it. This wasn’t the first time his daughter gained interest in some hobby before turning on it just a week later. “We’ll have to see if she sticks with it.”

“Maybe you should tell her to. I just don’t want to see something potential be wasted,” she disclosed, dipping a french fry into her little cup of ketchup. Harry picked up on how strongly she felt about this, seeing her get lost in her own thoughts for a few moments before regaining her hold on reality and locking eyes on her date.

“When did you start?” He questioned, biting into the straw of his drink.

She swallowed her fry, twirling the ends of her ponytail around the pads of her fingers. “Started when I was six. It’s good that Abby started early, gives her more time to practice,” she nodded with a smile, and it was so obvious that it was a pained smile as she thought about whatever was going on in her head. And it was hard for him to not notice the obvious deflections every time he tried to ask her about herself.

“Practice for what?”

“Well… What if she can be in the Olympics one day? She’ll need as much experience as possible,” she shrugged back, her voice seeming to grow softer the more they talk about this.

“I assume the Olympics is the ultimate goal?” He wondered, his eyes dancing over the way her face slightly twitched into a frown before being masked by a laugh and bright smile.

“Uh, yeah! It’s every skater’s dream. It’s what we fight so hard for, or maybe that was just me, I don’t know, but wouldn’t it be cool to say your daughter is an Olympic skater or an Olympic medalist? Automatic dad points,” she joked lightly, her eyes hardly meeting her smile.

“Y/N did you ever… make it to the Olympics?” He wanted to ask, he felt he needed to ask, yet at the same time he knew he shouldn’t have. Immediately her fake smile dropped and a layer of sadness washed over her features, something dark flashing across her eyes as her gaze dropped to the table between them.

It’s every skater’s dream. It was her dream, her ultimate endgame, it was everything she wanted and it was within reach of her fingertips. She could practically hold the gold medal in her hand, could see the camera’s flashing, could hear the people cheering, and could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins as she skated along the prestigious ice.

But it never came true. And it never will.

Instead she’s a part time trainer, and a part time waitress. She can hardly afford her apartment and is just barely getting by. She was just within reach of Heaven, but then she plummeted straight to Hell.

Y/N shook her head softly, eyes glossing over with a light sheen of tears, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip to help her prevent the pesky tears from falling down her face. Her hands instinctively started tugging on the ends of her hair a little harder as she mentally beat herself up for her lost opportunity. “I, uh - had an accident,” she murmured, finally looking up to meet his stare again. There was something about him that made opening up so much easier than it usually is. Maybe it’s because he genuinely seemed curious and cared to know more about her. Y/N couldn’t exactly tell but for some reason she broke down her walls just the tiniest bit more.

“I fell on a landing at Nationals, which was my entrance to the Olympics if I ranked third or higher. I dislocated my hip and twisted my ankle and that was the end. It happened a long time ago though, I’m over it now, I’ve moved on,” she reassured with that same fake smile, taking a small bite from her burger that she’d barely had touched.

It was clear she hadn’t, but they didn’t touch upon the subject anymore.

“Anyway, what about you? What do you do?”

Harry’s main flaw - at least to him - was that he was such a nosey person. The way their conversation around her sort of just terminated abruptly did not sit well with him and that was because there was so much more to the story that she wasn’t letting on. He figures though that since this is only a first date, he can’t pry too much into her life because he doesn’t want to drive her away. Despite her being closed off about herself, he really liked her and he really didn’t want to mess this up.

“I’m a pediatric surgeon,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if it weren’t an actual big deal. But, when he looked up to see Y/N’s eyes bulging out of her head, he guessed he was wrong, it is a big deal.

“You’re a surgeon? Like Alex Karev from Grey’s Anatomy, pediatric surgeon?”

Harry laughed at the comparison. It wasn’t the first time someone brought it up. “Yeah, but a little more real.”

“That’s… Wow, that’s so cool. What made you want to do pediatrics?” She hummed, swallowing her final fry, and chasing it down with the last of her soda.

“Abby. When she was born she had a small abnormal murmur in her heart and I knew that from that moment I wanted to do everything I could for parents and their children.”

As if he wasn’t perfect enough, he just had to be a children’s doctor. It was as if he took Y/N’s heart and strangled it in love and admiration, then stomped on it and left it lying in the dirt beneath their feet. She didn’t match him on any level. She was far from successful and he was so far past it.

All Y/N could continuously think was how could this possibly work out? She was trying her best to look on the bright side, to think positive thoughts, but she just… couldn’t. Him and Abby deserved good, not broken.

The rest of their time at the fair went fairly smooth. They were happy and joyous aside from their little chat when eating and if Y/N didn’t overthink too much, she’d want to see Harry again. She was free in the morning and was tempted to ask him to breakfast or brunch or something. She didn’t want this to end, she wanted to live in this happy bubble for the rest of her life. But, she couldn’t be selfish and needed it to end. It would be good for both of them if they just put this behind them.

When Harry pulled up to the curb in front of her building, he put the car in park and was quick to run around to the other side to open her door before she could get the chance. He took her hand and helped her out leading her to the door that led to the stairway. And if it were being selfish, Y/N didn’t care as she asked him to walk her to her door.

They stood in the small hallway, right outside the old wood of apartment 2, neither of them knowing what to say. But, then in an instant, nothing needed to be said as Harry leaned forward slotting his lips against hers in a quick kiss, his hands coming to rest on the sides of her face as her hands held onto his firm shoulders.

It only lasted a few seconds, maybe five at best, but those five seconds said so much more than anything they actually spoke the entire night. Y/N knew there was no way she was going to be able to let him go, because he was the best thing to happen to her in a long time, and why should she have to give it up? Despite all of the negativity swarming around in her brain she still wanted to get to know him, and she definitely wanted to kiss him more. Maybe it would turn out to be a mistake, but what’s life without a little risk?

The moment Harry touched his lips to hers, feeling the soft plushy texture of her mouth that he had been dreaming of kissing since the moment he first laid his eyes on her hours ago, he knew he was whipped. He knew her for three days and he couldn’t imagine not being able to kiss. And maybe he was desperate or pathetic, but what’s life without a little leap of faith?

“Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

❊ ❊

Saturday’s became their day. It was Harry’s only full day off and Y/N’s only night off, so it became convenient for their dates that have now been on every Saturday for the past two months. And ever since that first date, it was easy for them to say they’ve never been happier.

Y/N’s still trying to find her footing in this whole relationship thing, still finding it hard to believe that some like Harry could possibly like her. She was coming around though. Abby made it a point to tell her every time she saw her when her father wasn’t with her that he says hello and wishes he could be there. Then Y/N would ask her the same every time she left.

The first week after their original date, Harry had walked in with Abby, and without even thinking about it, walked up to Y/N and planted a soft kiss to her right cheek, despite the gawking eyes of the mother’s behind him. They could practically feel everyone’s eyes on them, but it was okay, because it was just a little price to pay for happiness.

That same night he took her out to dinner - at her restaurant of all places, and the entire night was a mess of embarrassment as her coworkers sent her coy looks every now and again that Harry could also very obviously see. Y/N tried to pretend that she didn’t know any of them, but when their waitress also just so happened to be Kelly of all people, it was hard to ignore. And it made for quite the conversation when she had to tell him she worked two jobs and that’s why she hardly had time to even breathe during the week.

What surprised her most when she told him of her misfortunes, was how well he listened. He didn’t seem turned off to the fact she didn’t have one singular stable job, like other men have in the past, and rather he seemed like he didn’t care at all. It was a nice change of pace for Y/N to have someone who seemed interested in her rather than just sex.

Two months had passed and the topic of sex hadn’t really been brought up either. Which again was a total shocker to Y/N since she’s so used to guys asking as soon as they meet her. Yet, the only time she and Harry had mentioned it was when they had been in his car one Saturday night, things getting a little heated as she climbed onto his lap, their mouths dancing together as their tongues lapped over one another.

The make out session wasn’t even meant to get as intense as it did, the gentle rocking of their hips together and the sloppy kisses placed on each other’s necks while her fingers tangled into the curls of his hair and his palms rested gently on her hips right over the swell of her butt, all of it wasn’t even supposed to get that far. But it felt way too good to stop.

Y/N always put her romantic life on the back burner in regards to trying to navigate her actual life instead. Having sex or finding love was something she hardly let herself think about, but when she could feel Harry’s growing erection beneath her center, she forgot how badly she wanted this. It took everything in her to separate their mouths, a trail of spit connecting their swollen lips. It was too much too fast and she wanted to take it slow. She needed to take it slow in order for it to not end just as quick as it started.

And Harry respected her wishes. He didn’t want to mess things up just as badly as her, if not more, and if she didn’t want things to go further, he had no choice but to abide by that.

That didn’t stop him from thrusting his cock into his fist that very same night as he remembered the way she slowly grinded her center against his, the texture of her velvety tongue sliding against his. Those thoughts led him to imagine how her warm mouth would feel against his bright red tip, slowly sinking down further and further until he was grazing the back of her throat.

Since that night the topic of sex hadn’t been mentioned.

When this Saturday rolled around, Y/N was beyond excited for their weekly date night. With their busy schedules it is always hard to see each other during the week no matter how hard they try to fit in some time, so the weekend was always built on a bit of excitement to see one another. And this Saturday was no different, especially since it was Y/N’s turn to plan their night.

After he and Abby left from the usual Saturday lesson, Y/N told him to meet her back at the rink around eight. It wasn’t an expensive date and it doesn’t need a far in advance planning, but this night was truly going to make or break their relationship, because it was easily going to be the most important for Y/N. She planned on opening up to him more than she had with anyone else, and she needed to do that in the comfort of her sanctuary, because  - for lack of a better term - she was shitting bricks.

As per usual Harry had arrived right on time. Measuring time had to be their biggest difference, because Y/N always felt like she had a lot more time than she really did, which resulted in her always being late for everything. Harry on the other hand was a very organized man and scheduled himself perfectly to go about his days. Yet the more time they spent with one another, the more they started to adapt to the other, Y/N not being so late anymore and Harry not being brutally early.

Though he did arrive just a minute after eight.

It was a start though.

From the time the rink closed at six, up until the moment Harry walked in the door, Y/N had been busy decorating every inch of the place, setting up their little picnic at one of the tables, stringing lights all around the rink it self, and mastering the best playlist that would be echoing around them until they leave.

Dinner consisted of Harry’s favorite chicken parmesan from her other job that he continued to rave about up until this day because it was just that good, as well as the cookie crumble dessert that had his mouth watering every time he thought about it.

When she saw him knock at the closed entryway, she took a deep breath before scurrying over to him, letting him in from the night time chill outside. They greeted each other with a soft kiss on the lips before she all but dragged him further inside. “Can you guess what we’re doing today?”

Harry’s jaw dropped in anguish, his eyes screwing shut as he whined about the impending future of their night. “Just because my daughter is a prodigy, does not mean I am,” he sighed as Y/N giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she stood on her tiptoes to try and match his eye level.

“Try not to worry, you’re in safe hands,” she spoke cooly, recalling what she once said to him about Abby. There’s a reason Abby is learning and - not to toot her own horn or anything - she wouldn’t be anywhere without Y/N coaching her through it.

So, how hard could it be to teach Harry?

The answer was very hard.

After they finished their dinner, sitting for a few minutes to let it settle within them, Y/N had to practically rip Harry off of the bench. It didn’t help that they both also had two glasses of wine coursing around in their veins, which raised Harry’s stubborn attitude from a seven to seventeen on a scale of one-to-ten.

He was nervous, that much was obvious, but if he didn’t relax everything was going to be a lot more difficult for the both of them. “Why don’t you skate your little heart out and I’ll just stay right here,” he gestured to the wall of the rink where he usually stood during Abby’s lessons.

“Where’s the fun in that? C’mon, you can even hold onto the wall. Please?” She begged, clasping her hands together under her chin as she pouted her bottom lip and giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

How was he meant to say no to that face?

Y/N must’ve gotten a few tips from Abby on how to win over Harry’s heart, because within a few moments he was caving in and ripping the pair of skates she picked out for him right out of her hands, grumbling a few not so innocent words under his breath. He sat on the nearest bench with a very exaggerated sigh, almost like a child trying to make their point that they were not happy. Y/N wonders if he took that out of Abby’s book.

Watching him trying to even stand on the thin blades was a sight in itself, and Y/N couldn’t wait to get him out on the ice. He looked sort of like a penguin as he waddled across slowly, hand clenched tightly in Y/N’s as he tried to keep his balance. “Y/N I can hardly even bloody walk on a stable surface, how d’ya think m’gonna manage on ice? It’s hard enough to walk on ice and now I’ve got skates on! I’m g’na crack my skull open,” he rambled on, throwing in a few more curses here and there. Y/N knew it was him trying to stall, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Will you relax, I won’t let you crack your skull open,” she shook her head, pushing open the gate to the rink and stepping down easily on the ice first.

The moment his first skate touched down, he almost slipped forward and almost collapsed in a split, making Y/N try her best to not break out into a heap of laughter. He grabbed onto her arm even tighter as he eased his second foot onto the slippery surface, probably leaving bruises for the next day.

“How the hell does Abby do this? M’scared shitless, hope you know,” he grumbled, trying to scoot a little past the wall, but again nearly falling on his ass.

“Hold my hand, let me pull you so you get a feel of the ice,” she contained her giggles. He was hesitant though as he stood in his place, slightly swaying back and forth as he tried to gain the courage to move his foot an inch forward.

Y/N looked at him with soft eyes, observing all of the nerves that were dancing across his features. Lacing her fingers in his, she raised her free hand to his face, getting him to look at her rather than his feet. “You trust me right?” she murmured, looking into his vibrant eyes.

He almost immediately nodded his head in response, a slight look of confusion carving into his face as his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes flashed between hers. “Of course, why’re you asking?”

“If you don’t want to fall, I need you to trust me,” she spoke reassuringly, leaning up to place a quick peck to his lips before joining him back at his side. Harry took a deep breath in, giving her hand a squeeze before he followed in her instructions and guided along the wall at a slow pace.

Trust was obviously the most important aspect to any sort of relationship, and especially to Y/N. Through her whole life she struggled keeping trust in anyone, and she felt she spent so much of her life getting people to entrust her, yet she can’t remember trusting anyone like she trusted Harry. And it was such a refreshing feeling to see that he trusted her just the same. That’s why this night meant a lot to her, because if he could trust her with his well being and his daughter’s, then it was only right to return the favor.

After his initial fear and trepidation, Harry finally developed a basic movement that helped him in his skating endeavors. He was beginning to gain pride in himself for not falling on his ass yet. They slowly made their way around in one lap after about twenty minutes of missteps and yelps in anxiety. The biggest thing they were going to take away from this experience though was how much fun they’re having. If anything, it’s always good to look on the bright side of things and appreciate the good amongst all of the bad.

When they made it back to the gate, Harry declared that was enough for one night on his part, and couldn’t get off the ice any faster. Y/N was about to follow him, when she mulled over an idea in her head, looking back to the ice. He noticed she wasn’t trailing behind him, and wondered why she seemed stuck in her place. She looked lost in thought, looking around her as she bit her lip in concentration before finally snapping her gaze to meet his after a few calls of her name.

“Is everything oka-”

“This has been my life, my entire life. I don’t know a world outside of this and I’ve kept myself closed off for years. Before you, I don’t think I’ve been on a genuine date…  ever because I’ve always been so scared,” she rambled, pacing herself back and forth on the ice.

Harry kept quiet, standing next to the wall now, leaning his upper body down on his elbows. “I’ve been so scared of people getting to know me and my past and my fucking demons that I’ve never given myself the chance to be happy. I grew up privileged, I had - or my parents had money and I was blessed to be able to skate without having to worry about prices or anything of the sort. But, that came with a price which was my parents never letting me breathe and pushing and overworking me, telling me that since they were spending so much money on me that I couldn’t settle for less than the best.

“And I mean, I wanted to be the best anyway; everyone does. But knowing they would be disappointed if I were to get second because I was a tenth of a point behind, hurt like hell. Then, Nationals came and if I placed in the top three, I was going to the Olympics. I was the most confident I had ever been. I knew the choreography, I knew my timing, and I knew how to fucking land… but then I fell. Hard. Twisted my ankle and shattered my hip and it was safe to say I wasn’t going to Russia.”

Y/N looked to her feet and let out a mocking laugh, not even caring that a few tears managed to escape her eyes as she rehashed her past. “As soon as I was able to walk again, my parents kicked me out. Tossed me to the curb and told me to never look back. No money, no friends, no idea of what to do.”

Harry’s heart yearned for his girlfriend. He could tell she had some murky past that always kept her quiet and avoided the topic at all costs, but he never would've guessed it to be like this. He tried to butt in but she held up her hand to stop him, asking him to let her finish. He retracted himself, allowing her to continue on. Harry’s heart yearned for his girlfriend, but it also swelled in pride as she felt comfortable enough to want to share this with him.

“I find it hard to trust anyone because I’m always scared they’ll hurt me like my parents did. If my parents could treat me that way then what’s stopping anyone else?” She took a breath before inching herself closer to Harry, coming to stand right in front of him. “But… then I met you and I find it so easy to let you in, and I think that scares me more than anything. You’re the only person I’ve told this too and I’m working on opening myself up more, I am, I just - it’s gonna take some time. My heart is in your hands, Harry… and I’m begging you to please take care of it.”

Y/N finally finished, swallowing down the clump in her throat, her forehead involuntarily pressing against Harry’s as silence swarmed them. Her doors were opening and her walls were falling down and anxiety traveled up her spine as she slowly stepped out of the dark and into a world she’s never known; A world filled with comfort and happiness. If someone told her two months prior that she would be feeling like this, whatever this is, over a man that was way out of her league, she would’ve laughed in their face and tell them to kindly fuck off.

A few tortuously slow seconds passed by, tears still slowly trickling down her face that Harry took upon himself to brush away. With her doubts and self-deprecating thought process, she was sure he was going to turn around and walk out of her life, leaving her to suffer and wallow alone, just like she was used to. But, then she felt the soft press of his lips against hers, and her body broke down into a pile of tears and cries as relief flooded her.

Y/N grabbed onto his face and pulled him harder against her, their kiss filling with passion and ardor. He held her close, not letting her slip away from him as they broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other again, their noses brushing and their breaths mingling. They smiled at one another, mutually agreeing that actions speak louder than words.

“I promise, I’m gonna take care of you, Y/N.”

And then they were kissing again, this time not as intense but the adoration for one another still leaked through the seams. At this moment, right now, this is exactly where they belonged. In one another’s arms, holding on tight to that trust and pushing aside their worries.

This was all that mattered.

❊ ❊

“I know you’ve got your lavish lifestyle, so please, bear with me,” she cautioned him as she shoved the key into the lock of her apartment door. Y/N had been to his house and it was beautiful as she expected it to be. There was actual room for people to walk around and not feel like they were crowding each other.

Y/N hadn’t actually ever had anyone to her apartment, but even alone she felt crowded in the tight space. When stepping in, the door to the bathroom was on the right, and her living room / bedroom was ahead while her small kitchen and little dining table sat on the left. (this is how i imagine it to look)

The grey blue paint of the walls were chipped in certain places that Y/N has been meaning to fix but hasn’t gotten around to doing. The carpeting looked old and in a certain spot right next to the couch there was a stain from when she accidentally spilt red wine and never was able to get rid of it. A few chinese take out cartons littered her table that she never cleaned from the night before while a few random clothes were strewn about on the floor or her bed. She mentally slapped herself for not thinking ahead and cleaning up after herself, hoping he doesn’t turn around now at the pigsty of an apartment.

“I’m not always this much of a slob…” she grimaced, quickly throwing the empty cartons in the trash, smiling sheepishly at Harry.

“If I didn’t have Natalie, I’m sure my place would look a lot worse,” he brushed her off, looking around at the books she had stacked on a shelf and the small collection of CDs. “I like you, Y/N, a lot. A messy apartment won’t change that.”

Y/N took in a calming breath and nodded her head, trying not to run around and fix everything that was out of place. Instead, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his torso from behind, and watched as he shuffled through the CDs, wondering who piqued her interest musically. Just when he was about to tell her he admired her taste, she turned his body around to face her, her soft eyes gazing up at him, lust dancing across her irises.

“Harry?” she coaxed, a hint of flirtation laced into her voice.

“Hm?”

“Can we have sex now?” she wondered, tilting her head to the side by a fraction, like a little puppy or a curious cat.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly at her forwardness, her question making him gulp in shock. They both knew this was exactly why they came here, but just thought that this was happening was enough to send a chill down his spine. His hands came up to cradle her jaw, desire flooding his veins as various images of her naked body circled around his brain, and as he could practically hear her whiney moans filling the air.

His mouth connected to hers in a fast movement, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip to allow him access to meet hers. She greedily opened her mouth, walking them over the few feet to her bed. The back of her knees met with the mattress, her almost falling over, but Harry held her up. One of his hands wrapped itself into her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her neck to him. He peppered wet kisses along the skin of her jaw, before trailing down to the collar of her sweater.

“Can I take this off?” He mumbled, tugging on the hem of the purple sweater that adorned her torso. Y/N ushered out a small ‘yes’ bringing her arms above her head as he brought it up and tossed it to the side somewhere. His eyes fixated on her chest, her breasts nestled into a black lace bra. Harry was practically salivating at the sight, immediately his mouth pressing against her chest, and he traveled down until his lips met her navel, his knees touching the soft carpet beneath them. His hands caressed her bottom, softly kneading the flesh clad in her leggings.

His eyes met back up with hers as an unspoken agreement was shared, him pulling down the soft black material as it pooled at her ankles. Soon they too were tossed aside, leaving Y/N in her matching underwear set that had Harry seeing stars. Normally, she would be nervous about someone seeing her in such a vulnerable state, but just like everything else lately, she’s never been more comforted in the presence of her lover. The way he looked at her body as if it were heaven, his eyes roaming over every inch without a look of apprehension or disgust.

Harry pushed her to lay back on the bed, keeping her feet on the ground as her knees bent at the edge. He placed a kiss on her covered pubic mound, his mouth ghosting over her pulsing core as he bit down softly into the flesh of her thigh, just next to her core. A small whimper left her mouth as he breathed a line of cool air to her heated center before sucking on her other thigh, again going right over where she wanted him most.

His fingers hooked into her panties, bringing them down her thighs, leaving her completely exposed to him as he then spread her legs wide enough for his shoulders to fit between. “So beautiful,” he purred, eyeing her wet pussy with fervor.

Then a second later he was licking a broad stripe through her folds, the tip of his tongue circling around her clit. A moan escaped her throat as she rocked her hips gently to gain more friction against his tongue. He took her legs and draped them over his shoulders as he began to mouth away at her dripping hole, gathering up all of the wetness dripping out of her. He moaned at the taste of her, the vibrations of his noises hitting against her and causing her to shiver at the sensation before a moan of her own was let out.

He reached up to hands, bringing them to his hair, urging her to tug on his curls when he dipped his tongue inside of her cunt. Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, her hands fisting his hair and pulling on his roots harshly, the sounds of their groans mixing together.

“Harry,” she cried out, her heels digging into his back as she tried to push him impossibly closer to her heat. “Shit... you’re so go-good at this.”

She could feel him smile against her from her words before licking away at her and sucking her clit into his mouth. One hand remained on her thigh, holding on tightly while his other met her pussy, one finger dipping into her and thrusting in at a slow pace. She whined as he added another finger, quickening his pace as he could feel her walls clench around his digits.

“You’re so tight, love. Can’t imagine how y’gonna feel against m’cock,” he grinned, looking up at her through his lashes, leaving one final wet kiss to her clit before removing himself from her completely, her feet falling back to the floor with a thud. She gasped at the loss of contact, eyes rushing over his figure as she tried to coax him back to her.

He giggled at her impatience, stripping himself of jeans and sweater, the bulge in his briefs looking like it hurt as it strained against the material. He palmed himself, a whimper leaving his throat before he leaned down over her and moving themselves further up the bed. He grinded his center against hers, his precum and her wetness leaving a patch of moisture at the front of his briefs. Y/N gulped at the feeling of his covered cock, measuring in her head just how big he was. She assumed he had some length and girth to him just by his aura, but she didn’t expect this big.

When he finally kicked off his underwear, his bright red tip slapping against the underbelly of his bellybutton, Y/N’s jaw all but fell off at the sheer size of him. Immediately she wondered if he was even going to fit inside her or how badly the burn of the stretch of her walls was going to be. It had been a while since she had sex, and now she was nervous.

“Are you even sure that’ll fit inside of me?” She questioned, nibbling at her bottom lip as she looked into his eyes with a little worry.

Harry pursed his lips to contain his smile, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss before whispering, “We’ll take it slow.”

They engaged themselves into a soft make out session, the final piece of clothing being her bra thrown over his shoulder, leaving the two of them completely and utterly bare and vulnerable for the other. No part of this entire night felt rushed and neither of them had this urge to just get it over with. No, instead they took their time with each other, allowing themselves to get used to this new step in their relationship. This night solidified just how serious they were about each other, and taking things slow helped that. It wasn’t about reaching that orgasm or the amazing feeling that comes with it. It was about them and how much this meant.

After he rolled a condom down his length, he positioned himself at her entrance before lacing their hands together and settling them on either side of her head. Then slowly and tenderly, Harry pushed himself in, cries of pleasure leaving their mouths as he stretched her walls. He didn’t thrust himself all the way in at one go, instead rocking his hips slightly back and forth, pushing just a little bit further each time he reentered her allowing her time to accommodate his size. When he was finally all the way in, Harry nearly passed out as her tightness squeezed around him. He stilled himself for a moment, giving her a second to breathe before he pulled back and thrusting back in with a harsher movement.

Y/N was right when she knew there was going to be a burn as her muscles widened around him, and she felt wetness prick at the corner of her eyes before she blinked them away before he could notice. She raised her head to capture his lips in a kiss, looking to distract herself as the pain slowly dissipated into pleasure. Their tongues lapped over one another as Harry quickened his pace, his hips slapping against hers in a more feverish manner. Soon enough, all Y/N could feel was immense pleasure as her once denied orgasm began to build back up.

The tip of his dick, reached so far into her that she could feel him brush against her cervix, a hazy feeling clouding her brain. When he felt her thighs tighten around his waist, and her walls began to flutter around him, he brought one of his hands to her clit, rubbing quick circles on it with his thumb. “G’na cum for me, baby? G’na let y’self go?”

Y/N moaned in response, her eyes screwing shut as he delivered a hard thrust to her special spot, her climax flooding her body quick and hard. She’s never felt herself get off that much, not knowing that she was even capable of that grand of an orgasm. The moment her body calmed down, she felt herself go into a dreamlike state as exhaustion hit her like a train. Harry continued to pound into her, working himself to his own high. Y/N quivered at her sensitivity, but urged him to continue because she wanted to see how beautiful he looks when he comes undone.

His jaw dropped open in the slightest as his abdomen clenched and his prick twitched, the familiar feeling starting in his balls shooting up through his spine before he released into the condom. A lewd string of curses fell from his lips as he gently continued to ride out his orgasm, his body completely spent as they both panted out quick breaths.

Slowly Harry removed himself, taking off the worn condom and tossing it into the garbage before joining her back in bed. “Should get cleaned up,” he muttered, still catching his breath and calming down.

“Mm,” Y/N hummed, turning herself over so her legs tangled with his and her arm draped over his sweaty torso.

Minutes went by when neither of them said anything, and Y/N was convinced he had fallen asleep as his breaths became more steady. But there was one thought on her mind that she needed to get off of her chest, because ever since they started dating it’s been eating away at her. She wanted to get it out of the way as felt her eyes getting heavier.

“Harry?”

A few moments pass before he softly answers, “Yeah?”

“What does Abby think of me? Not as her trainer but y’know… your girlfriend? She tells me how close she is with her mother and I just - I don’t know,” she shrugged, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him.

Harry looked at her, his one hand gently pushing the hair away from her eyes. “She’s the one that told me to take you on that first date.”

Y/N was shocked at this, her eyebrows shooting up at his confession. She knew the little girl liked her as her teacher and the one showing her how to skate properly, but Y/N never knew how she felt about her being the girl her father was dating. Kids don’t always understand how relationships work and Y/N feared the little girl would end up hating her since she was with Harry and her mother wasn’t. “Really?”

He nodded, “She admires you, Y/N. Yeah, she’s close with her mother but in all fairness I think she likes you more.”

“Oh, don’t say that!”

“Why not? It’s true. She can see how happy you make me and I think that’s all that matters to her,” he surmised with a shrug of his shoulders. At this, Y/N couldn’t help but smile, connecting their lips in a gentle kiss before her eyes fluttered close as she nudged her nose against his in a little eskimo kiss.

She was convinced he was her happy ending. He was the voice she loved hearing, and the person that made her life just a little stressful. And boy, she was happy Abby decided to take up skating lessons.

“You make me happy too.”

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 19 of ???

I couldn’t sleep this night, and there was little point in trying. So I stayed among my people, hoping my presence would reassure them where my words might have failed. I had never been more grateful for my people’s habit of holding our emotions close; it kept my fury with my mother’s milquetoast words at a manageable distance.

She was better than this. I’d heard her give inspiring speeches all my life, words that inspired hope where it was waning, fervor where it was lost. I could only view tonight as an act of sabotage, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. What would she have to gain from undermining me, and the peace I was trying to build? Was it not what we all were working towards?

On the one hand, I wanted very much to speak with her, to demand an explanation. But on the other... well, I had sort of given up. From the moment the Disa suggested marriage, my mother had been shut down. There was more at work here than the surface negotiations of peace. My mother seemed deeply disturbed at the notion of my life deviating from her plan for it--and that was just too bad. It was my life, my reign, my people. Her ways and her mother’s ways and her mother’s mother’s ways had not led to any resolution. I was willing to try something new.

But I was never alone with my thoughts for too very long. It was rare for the Shardae to mingle nowdays outside of festivals and holy days, so many were eager for my attention. Many offered wishes for my continued good health, simple excuses to engage and be near. More than I wished expressed their condolences for our “wasted trip” out to the Mistari, which I politely redirected back towards the news of Irene’s expectancy. Those that topic did not turn away expressed interest in my singing in the birth, and did that mean that I would be returned to my work with the midwives, now that I would no longer be needed on the battlefields? It was an excellent question, and one I hadn’t considered, but found that my answer was an eager yes. It did much to buoy my spirits to think my family gifts returned to acts of growth rather than simply easing the pain of loss. Perhaps even my mother--

I didn’t care to think on my mother overly much this night.

So I stayed among my people until well after moonset, making note of those faces that stayed, those that seemed cautiously hopeful, and those who’s distrust and disdain I’d had to redirect. There weren’t many who lived directly in and around the Keep; I knew most by family name at least, from the Lyssia tailors to the jewelers who ran the Aurita, to the Silvermead blacksmiths and soldiers.

One I did know by first name, Jeanne Kejamarl, approached me much later in the evening. I remembered her from our shared school days, when I was still learning to shape my letters and reading only the simple sentences chalked on the board. The children of the Keep were all raised and educated together, because there were so few. So while I had little cause to interact with the Kejamarl tanneries directly, I knew Jeanne by name, though I wouldn’t call her a friend now, the way I did Elanor. Which I only considered because of how utterly forward her question was.

“Forgive my asking, Shardae, but why wasn’t Captain Andreios by your side this evening?”

I blinked, long and slow and foolish. My brain felt like thick mud, unwilling to allow my thoughts to rotate and pivot this conversation change with any speed.

“I know it’s not my place to question, but if you’re not going to announce him your alastair....”

Jeanne’s cheeks colored, and I realized with shock and horror the direction this conversation was headed, too late to head it off. She was interested in Rei, and I had dragged my feet so long that others were wondering if they might court him.

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for young adults to pursue one another. Yes, alastairs were often chosen for children in their infancy, but tragically all too often, those alastairs and pairbonds did not live to see adulthood. And while it was traditional for men to take the role of alastair--chivalrous protectors--it wasn’t unheard of for a would be pairbond to express her interest in being pursued. And Rei was handsome, and highly ranked, and courteous and thoughtful and dependable--

The thought of his lips against mine came surging back, filling my own cheeks with heat. Luckily, Jeanne misinterpreted my reaction for embarrassment at the topic--or maybe not so much a misinterpretation--and quickly backed off.

“I’m so sorry, m’lady, I shouldn’t have asked.” She ducked her head, chin all but tucked to her chest as she tried to make herself small. “It’s just after all the rumors of the Arami’s proposal, and with Rei’s absence--“

“He didn’t propose!”

I snapped a too rapid answer in a furious whisper, too caught up in my own snarl of emotions to keep my usual decorum.

“I don’t know who started that stupid rumor but I would really appreciate it if people stopped speculating about my private life!”

Jeanne looked up, horror warring with curiosity. It was utterly unlike me to be so emotional--and if she was a lover of gossip, this was too good to miss. I cursed inwardly and did my best to regain my composure.

“Jeanne, please. It has been an excruciatingly long day, week, all of it, and I am tired of my love life being the topic of so much discussion. It’s unseemly, don’t you think?”

“Yes, m’lady, of course. I shouldn’t--“ “No, you shouldn’t. And I would ask you please to keep others from discussing it as well? I have enough to deal with right now.” I sighed, hoping to use the show of emotion to my advantage. “I hope to start my own family under the light of peace, not in the shadow of my brother’s funeral.”

“Yes, m’lady. Gods above, yes of course. I’m so sorry.”

I reached out, laying the lightest touch on her arm. “Please. I don’t need your apologies, just your consideration. You knew me when I still couldn’t form my S’s front ways.” She smiled at the shared memory, and how ridiculous it was that I couldn’t write out “Shardae”. “Please give me the room to be just Danica where I can. There are so many places where that won’t be possible.”

“Of course, my--Danica.”

I smiled, trying to positively reinforce the behavior. My mother had become distant from our people, and by extension, me. So many of them had expressed a desire to see us out and among them again. If I could befriend my people again, help them see this shift as a positive one, become their darling, golden young queen, perhaps it could help me regain the power our family had lost to the generals. I could sell them an idealistic young family, a vision of the future that was shiny and bright.

Maybe, if I sold it hard enough, I might believe it myself.

“Rei is back with the serpiente, helping keep the Arami safe.” Jeanne’s eyes widen, and I nod, leaning closer as if in confidence. “There’s no one else I would trust with so high a priority. Here among my people, I could not possibly be safer. But I worry for Zane--as my mother said, this is an extremely brave thing for him to be doing. I hope my people will greet him with courtesy and dignity, but I am too pragmatic to trust his safety to anyone less than Rei.”

There. Maybe using his nickname twice will drive the point home. Of course, a part of me whispers that if I just declare my intentions on him here and now that would end all of it. I have no reason not to. Everyone assumes I’m as good as his pairbond. But for some reason I don’t--probably because I worry the story will grow in the telling, much like my “proposal” from Arami Zane. No, when I’m ready for word to spread, it will be through an official announcement, not from wildfire gossip from an old schoolmate. I release her arm and take a step back, letting some of my weariness show on my face.

“Now I think its time I take my leave. We all have a big day tomorrow. I should try to sleep while I can.”

I take another step back and melt into my golden hawk’s form, trusting whoever is on my most personal guard duty to peel off and follow as they always do. Only I don’t fly up to my balcony on the far side of the Keep. Instead, I turn my flight towards the east, and the waiting encampment of serpiente. - I am not so foolish as to have not considered this to be a potential invasion. I have let a score of serpiente warriors within an hour’s flight of the heart of my kingdom. But as I have said, more times than I care to, I refuse to behave as if Zane will betray me. It will either happen or it won’t. If a cobra is destined to slay a hawk again, then I have made peace with it being me. Our people began with one golden queen, if they are to end with simply one, then Fate will have her way no matter what we design. And honestly, they could do worse with a conquering monarch than Zane Cobriana. From what I have seen, he is fair, just, considerate, and generally in favor of art, self-expression, the well-being of his people--

I bank and circle back, realizing  my mental wandering has allowed my wings to wander as well. I am too tired to think, but thinking is all I seem to be able to do. I want to see Rei, to wrap myself in the warmth and comfort of his arms to maybe try another few kisses, softer and gentler this time, to reassure myself that my life has not turned completely upside down. Instead I am circling around the encampment, having flown right over it while thinking of Zane Cobriana’s qualities as a king.

I realize as I circle in to land that partially my mistake was due to the sheer size of the gathering. I don’t know what my distracted mind must have made of the numerous campfires now dotting the fields, a small village perhaps, but it is certainly too many for the two score of soldiers or so that should be out here. This gathering is nearly twice that, centered around a ring of figures--

Dancing.

Zane and Adelina are dancing, with six other serpents besides. They weave in and out of each others’ steps, intricate rings within rings, scales flashing in every color of the rainbow.

Serpiente warriors can grow a scaled demi form, much like the large, angelic wings we avians sprout. While ours are used to give us an aerial advantage in battle, theirs provides a natural amrour that only the keenest arrow can pierce. And much like our wings can be used as an expression of beauty, an elegant backdrop to fine garments and jewelry, so are the serpiente before us using their scales now. Lines of color sparkle like living veins of gemstones, from the iridescent white of Adelina’s viper, to rich reds and greens of dancers I do not know, to the shimmering obsidian of Zane’s cobra.

They are a perfect complement to each other, his dark hair and scales reflecting red in the firelight, hers glinting gold like a low harvest moon. They sway and swirl, moving around each other and through their fellow dancers as if bound by an invisible chord. It is heartbreakingly beautiful, and I understand why every one of my subjects simply stands and stares. It is like nothing any of us have ever seen before, except maybe the soldiers.

I remember the ready pose Zane and Adelina fall into so easily, and thinking how perfectly it would transition to either dance or combat. I am mesmerized by the dance; I can only imagine how impossible they might seem to fight. I am struck with the sudden realizaiton that our survival til now seems nothing short of miraculous. Without the falcon’s am haj to allow us to fight with such lethality from the skies--

I want nothing more to do with this line of thought, so I land, picking a spot far enough away from the dancing serpents so as not to startle anyone. The avians in the crowd all know the silhouette of my hawk’s form, but it is late, and I am trying to be discrete. Still, several soldiers peel away, bowing swiftly as they make a report.

“No trouble yet, your majesty. As you suggested, the serpiente are well able to sense intent. None were allowed past the outer perimeter that were anything other than curious.” Curious. I should have thought of that. Raymond steps up at my side, and I realize he was one of the ravens flanking me. “Erica flew in during your mother’s speech, m’lady, with a message from Zane and Andreios. Neither one of them say any harm in letting a few come and see, but--well, I wished they’d said it was more than just a few. I never would have fielded such a decision for you if I’d thought--“

“It’s alright,” I say, holding up a hand. “If Zane allowed it, and Andreios cleared it, then I trust their judgement. I didn’t even think folks would venture out, so they’re steps ahead of me.” I gave Raymond a tired smile. “In all things security, I don’t mind letting Rei make decisions. It’s matters of battle and war I wish to be consulted on. Allowing a few--okay, more than a few--curious folk out to meet our guests...”

I trailed off, feeling sick at the idea of how poorly this could have gone. We were treading the most precarious line, and I’d barely thought any of it out. And Zane had simply come, trusting.

I should have worked something else out. I never should have asked him to come here--

“Dani.”

Rei was suddenly before me, undoubtedly alerted to my presence here. Too tired to care anymore who saw or what they thought, I let myself fall into his arms. This was all I’d been seeking. I hadn’t meant to stumble onto more trouble, more problems--I just wanted to be held, and get some sleep.

“Do you have a tent sent up?” I asked, trying at least to keep my voice between just the pair of us.

“For you? No, but we can--“

I shook my head. “Yours is fine. I’m exhausted, we’re in the field. There’s no where safer for my than by your side, right?”

Rei sighed, but I could see him caving in. “I mean, ostensibly you were safer back at the Keep, but yes.” He tucked his arm over my shoulder, with all the familiarity of an alastair in private. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @theramwrites @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes @faithfire @thehellinsideyourhead @adventuresofacreesty

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

the final battle crack fic i wrote in its entirety

since this is the last opportunity before we find out what actually happens 😭this is just utter hilarity so i didn’t want to put it on AO3 lol

contains spoilers for ep 7, some things that happen in the ending of the book, and my speculations for the show’s finale (some are totally crack, but some are more legit possibilities)

As the blimp approached Nomansan Island, Mr. Benedict took stock of the situation. He had with him three women who all looked out for blood in their own individual ways, one secret agent (hopefully alive) on the island, and four very smart children who were presumably with him. He considered that he should probably not assume they are all together; knowing the children it was highly likely they had eluded him in order to conduct a dangerous mission. His stomach twisted at the thought. 

Number Two was navigating the blimp. Her face was set in an expression of stoic determination, and the pockets of her jacket bulged with contents unknown to him. She was chewing angrily on a piece of beef jerky as she rotated the steering wheel. Good, good. At least one of his companions looked none too out of the ordinary. Rhonda had hastily compiled a battle outfit consisting of a facemask covering her mouth and nose and a fashionable looking tracksuit. She carried a backpack filled with spray paint that she had brought “just in case” and was now informing Miss Perumal of her experience participating in direct action protests. 

“It is an ethical stance, you see, because the conscious does not allow one to do nothing– no matter how small that action is,” she said. Mr. Benedict smiled. He loved seeing the strong character Rhonda possessed shining through.

Miss Perumal looked every inch the schoolteacher she was. She wore neat black slacks, a pink sweater, and coordinating jacket. Her shoes were flat but still made a satisfying clicking sound, indicating a small protrusion at the heel. She appeared composed enough, but Mr. Benedict could sense the anger emanating from her, the determined wrath of a mother whose child is endangered. He made a mental note to thank her at a later date for being such a wonderful teacher for Reynie. If they survived, that is.

Number Two shouted from the helm that they were nearing the island.

“Where shall I chart our course?” she asked, with all the seriousness of a military general. Mr. Benedict examined the horizon. A large tower was in sight, practically begging for invading air travellers to notice. This must be the tower the children had told them about over morse code. It was undoubtedly their target.

“He’s built us a veritable lighthouse, my dear Number Two. I propose we follow its shine.”

It was at that moment that a sizable commotion could be heard from the surface of the island. They had, unsurprisingly, been noticed. Students stared and pointed while adults who appeared to be security details shouted frantically into radios. There was one particularly large group of these adults who surrounded a quite familiar face.

“Milligan’s been captured!” Number Two cried.

“Milligan’s alive!” Rhonda countered.

“Yes, yes, that is...quite the development...oh dear,” Mr. Benedict said, swaying slightly. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, rubbing the plaid fabric of his shirt. “I’m alright, Rhonda, it’s passed.” 

Seeing as the concept of stealth was now off the table, they prepared to make a calamitous entry. Number Two lowered the blimp into a clearing near the tower and adjacent to the pavilion in which Milligan was being held. It appeared that his imprisoners had been in the process of moving him somewhere to be held or interrogated when the arrival of the blimp proved a delay. When they were about fifteen feet away from the ground, Rhonda took out her spraypaint and shot a stream of fuschia directly into the eyes of Milligan’s captors. Blinded, they fell to the ground, and Milligan seized the opportunity to pick the lock of his chains using the zipper on his pants.

“I don’t remember this being part of the plan, sir!” he shouted upwards, pausing periodically to land punches into the men who were now attempting to prevent his escape without the benefit of their eyesight. 

“Reevaluation became necessary!” Mr. Benedict returned. “Where are the children?”

“That I do not know. I left them after allowing myself to be captured as a distraction. I can only hope that they have prevailed.”

At this point, the blimp had touched down on the ground, and its four passengers disembarked. They made haste towards the tower. Miss Perumal took the lead, and when more security agents appeared, she glared at them with such deadly force that they blanched and stepped out of her way. Upon reaching the door to the tower, she found it locked, and stepped aside for Mr. Benedict. He examined the panel and entered a password. The door opened.

“How did you do that?” Miss Perumal asked.

“Nathanial always used that password. Even when we didn’t have any real vaults to guard, and he was just telling me stories about being a secret agent. Really, though, you would think for your megalomaniac mind control tower you’d want to be a bit more original, but– no matter.”

With an astonished chuckle, Miss Perumal continued in her march up the tower stairs. Her shoes clacked ferociously against the tile. At last, they made it to the top. Mr. Benedict was rather out of breath, and Number Two pulled a water bottle out of her pockets, which he accepted unblinkingly. This door did not have a passcode, and so Milligan kicked it sharply, watching with a satisfied sigh as it fell to the ground.

“That’s called the old-fashioned way,” he said.

The sight inside was extraordinary. Sticky was seated in a strange contraption. A helmet that looked rather like an egg was attached to his head. Nathaniel– god, it was really him, his brother– was seated in a chair facing Sticky. Reynie was standing behind Mr. Curtain next to the room’s large window, and looked to have been halfway through removing its screen. Outside the window, Kate hung dangling from a rope attached to the adjacent flagpole, with Constance tied to her back. Her face was one of utmost terror. All of them had paused in what they were doing to stare in shock at the busted down door and the five adults who stood behind it. 

Mr. Benedict took a step into the room, looked at his brother, and promptly collapsed onto the floor. The others were prepared to fight Mr. Curtain, but he made no moves towards aggression. He simply sat in his chair and stared at his brother, now laying in what looked to be a painful position on the ground. His eyes looked strangely devoid. A moment passed, then he seemed to come to his senses, and he flared with anger.

“Snakes and dogs!” he barked, his voice a cuttingly malicious sting. He understood himself to be surrounded. He pressed a button on the seat of his chair.

“What are you incompetent fools doing here? And why would you let him fall like that?” he screamed, looking at Mr. Benedict. He then promptly turned an alarming shade of white, apparently realizing what he had just said.

“I mean...of course you will never defeat me! One of you is already down for the count, and I haven’t needed to lift a finger! My security agents will be here shortly. I have just summoned them with this button.”

Miss Perumal strutted up to him, looked him directly in the eyes, and slapped him hard across the face. He spluttered.

“How dare you endanger Reynie! You should be ashamed of yourself, you pathetic excuse for a father and an educator!” 

Mr. Curtain had shut down again. He did not appear to be taking in any of what Miss Perumal was saying, but this did not deter her. She continued yelling until Reynie ran over to her and wrapped his arms around her. She quieted down in the interest of not hurting his ears. 

“We’ll see how well those security people do with paint in their eyes,” Rhonda quipped, choosing to ignore the scene that had just occurred. Mr. Curtain startled.

“Wait, with what?”

It was at this point that Mr. Benedict stirred. He felt a sizable bump on the side of his head, and his muscles ached as he made to sit up. Number Two ran forward and pulled him up into a standing position. He would have to ignore the pain he was in.

“Rhonda, if you would be so kind as to assist Reynie in letting our friends through that window, I would be much obliged,” he said. He then leveled his gaze at his brother. He stayed awake this time.

“You haven’t gotten any better at taming those curls, Nicky,” Mr. Curtain said coldly. Mr. Benedict swayed at the invocation of his childhood nickname, but held steady. Number Two kept her hands placed steadily on his shoulders.

“You haven’t thought of any new passwords.”

“Touche.”

“What is going on here? Why...why has it come to this, Nathaniel?” Mr. Benedict asked, his voice cracking. There were tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“You know as well as I do that nothing in this wretched world is owed to us, brother. You’ve got to take what you want. You’ve got to take power. You’ve got to take control. Really, I’d be surprised you were content to live for so many years as some obscure scientist who nobody really respects. Then again, you were always the soft one.”

The window had now been opened, and Kate and Constance heaved themselves inside. Constance strode directly toward the chair in which Sticky was still seated, openmouthed.

“Move aside, George Washington,” she ordered. He rose obediently. Constance fitted the egg helmet around her head and sat quietly for a moment. She seemed to be taking in the situation. Then, without warning, she screamed.

“RULES AND SCHOOLS ARE TOOLS FOR FOOLS!”

“I’M AFRAID OF YOUR FACE!”

“NOW WE HAVE WAITED FOR THIRTY CONSECUTIVE MINUTES TO SEE SOME OLD DIRTY EXECUTIVE!”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Number Two took this moment of great distraction as an opportunity to shoot Mr. Curtain with her slingshot. He fell to the ground, unconscious. The longer that Constance screamed, the weaker she appeared. Eventually her shouts were more like determined moans. The machine that the egg was attached to crackled and sparked, and finally, it seemed to combust. There was a nasty sounding mechanical noise. A small fire started in the ceiling, which Kate quickly contained. Constance had overwhelmed the machine. She fell over, hardly awake, and Mr. Benedict rushed to her side.

“I believe that it is time for our escape, friends,” he said, making his way towards the door with Constance in his arms.

The group made their way down out of the tower, preparing for the fight that would no doubt ensue as they attempted to escape the island. Rhonda paused as they reached the outside of the tower. She grabbed her spray paint once again and aimed at the tower wall.

“Nathaniel Curtain looks washed out in blue?” Number Two read, “Really, Rhonda?”

“It is true. He cannot pull off that suit,” Constance mumbled.

Everyone laughed, and the society basked in the knowledge that this was the end of their mission at last.

[nashmusings]

【Book Review】 Small Notebook Usage Techniques to Help Your Live Your Days The Way You Want, Everyone's 74 Usage Examples

If you're a weeb (odds that you are, reading this blog), you'd know that JP titles are no fucking joke. In this post, besides reviewing the book, I'll be talking about some of the take-home messages from the book and anything of interest that stuck out to me. I'll also be looking at this book through the lens of a bullet journal user.

What's the book about?

It's actually the 2nd in a series called the "Small Notebook Usage Techniques", this one collects 74 examples from other small notebook users, the first one was solely by the author sharing his usage examples and MO. This one does have a taste of the author's, Takahashi Takuya (herein Takahashi), own usage and his MO. This book was published in Late Feb of 2021, and so it's very COVID-19-centered. As with Covid, everyone was locked home and overwhelmed by the changes the pandemic wrought. And so, this book was sort of written with that in mind, to 'reclaim' back our lives through the mighty small notebook.

Why a small sized notebook?

A small canvas has its own charms and perks, one may argue that an A5 book is the way to go. With a smaller space, you don't feel pressured to finish up the entire page to avoid wastage. And it's the 'perfect' size for one 'subject'. Not to mention that it's small-enough to be forked out anywhere or on the go so that you can quickly jot things down that comes to mind. Takahashi's MO on small notebooks does share some parallels with bullet journalling, in the sense of brain dumping all that you have onto the page. Numbered pages are essential, as well as an index. Here are the spreads that are under the "Takahashi-Style" spreads.

A to-do list & idea memo that grants you the ability to observe everyday happenings

A to-do list with a reward system

A grid that allows you to see everyone's roles (for work hierarchies and the like)

A memo that grants you the ability to deepen your understanding on a particular thing

A themepark-like route for going about meetings

A personal manual (referential spread)

Whiteboard-like usage (braindumping)

Inventory list

Namecard scrapbook

Running record

Uneasiness/worry memo

Cooping memo

Emergency contact memo I'll be going through a few of these spreads which I found interesting and that I found especially useful for the small notebook format, as some of the spreads can easily be compiled in a bullet journal. The book comes with lots of visuals and sample diagrams so I'd highly recommend you pick up the book. Every spread in the Takahashi-Style makes use of a header with a date to it and have it underlined (at number 1).

A grid that allows you to see everyone's roles (for work hierarchies and the like) sample page

1. The to-do list & idea memo that grants you the ability to observe everyday happenings

The to-do list will be comprised of 1 daily page, and here you write down all your tasks for the day. The idea memo section is made so that there's as little friction as possible by using the last page of the book, you can always rotate the book vertically to get your page spread orientation right. This memo section is just a list, with the date of when the idea was written and a bullet point of what the idea entails. You can always attach the page number to the heading when you explore that idea in detail in the front section of the book.

2. A to do list with a reward system

This one is fairly straight forward. Construct a to-do list of what needs to be done in the day and then make a margin at the bottom of the page with the heading "reward" and leave a checkbox next to it. Set yourself a rule, if you've managed to complete the urgent or all tasks, get yourself that 'reward' and check it off once you receive it. The reward can be something as simple as a desert or whatever you consider rewarding.

3. A memo that grants you the ability to deepen your understanding on a particular thing

If you heard or saw about something, odds are that you don't really understand it from the getgo. Especially now in the context of the pandemic where the rules set by the government regarding infection control ever changes day by day. Takahashi recommends taking memos on such things (but of course it can be applied to any topic at hand) to deepen your understanding on the matter. So the spread starts with the heading of the desired topic and you write down notes or details of said topic. A bullet point format would be things look cleaner and easier to refer to later in time.

4. Uneasiness/worry memo

When going about our daily lives, we come across many things that induces stress in us, as well as making us uneasy or worried about. In order to sort through our murky thoughts, it's best to get it all down on paper. By making these worries visible to the eye on paper, you're able to gain a 3rd person view about the matter. In doing so, you'll be able to see the ways of resolving the issue or making sense out of it, rationalizing it. You can always use the left side of the spread to list down the issues and the right side the solutions to said issues.

5. Cooping memo

In this spread, you list the number of things or ways to help you detoxify your stress away. By listing them down ahead of time, you save your head the trouble of trying to find such information since you're going through a stressful time. It could be something as simple as getting your favourite drink or going to that special place to even ordering that favourite dish of yours. Whatever works for you, it can be in any scale.

My way of using a small notebook

"Small notebook 1"

Any of these spreads can be implemented into the bullet journal but I'm quite particular and I like having excuses to use more stationeries and hence I got myself a passport-sized Traveler's Notebook.

Index page, with the page number and it's respective heading Unfortunately due to Covid, my living conditions changed for the worse, forcing me to live with a relative who practically takes a dump on my own mental health. And thus, I use writing as means of therapy and a way to sort out my thoughts. So, I use my small notebook as a means of understanding a mental health issue, breaking it down and thinking of ways to solve it. I also use it as a space to break down my monthly finances and stick in reminders for altered budgets cause on one unfortunate month I had to spend more because of emergencies.

I just dump down my troubles and add explanations to it to gain some perspective

I'll give this book a 7.5/10. It has a LOT of sample usages from many users but quite a number of them are common spreads that you'll find in the bullet journal community and thus I personally felt that my money was partially wasted. I quite like the idea of having a notebook small enough to be easily pulled out whenever I'm out and about, so this book opened my mind quite a bit in that regard. I'd recommend this book if you're a fan of Japanese stationery and would like to see how the locals use their notebooks.

I hope this post was of help to you. The book is sadly only available in Japanese. There are ebook versions for sale as well. AmazonJP (Kindle ver available): https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/4768314570/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_937X6D1FFSBBQKB0ZTAN RakutenJP (no Kobo ver available): https://books.rakuten.co.jp/rb/16607928/

[dino-nugget7]

A Manifesto Against The School System

As of writing this I am a second year Public High School Teacher. I won’t be able to live with myself if I spend another year at it. Literally, I feel like a bit of a monster for deciding to finish out this school year rather than quitting right now. But we do what we must to survive, my students won’t be less oppressed because I left, and if nothing else, it gives me an opportunity to strategize about what I can do to aid in revolutionizing school because authentic alternatives to public school exist but none I have found have been intersectional enough to replace public education without excluding the kids who would most benefit from escaping the main school system here in America.

Some of the reasons I did not understand how oppressive school actually is, are that my interests and hobbies happened to align very neatly with the “core” classes, and that even though I grew up very poor and moved around a lot as a kid, we eventually settled and I went to a well funded high school that had just about any elective and/or after school club that I might be interested in trying and then some. During that time, I came to see school as a place where I could explore my passions and escape my home situation. So I figured I would love to pay it forward and go be a teacher.

I recognized at least, the privileged position I came from and decided I wanted to go learn how to teach in settings as different from my high school as possible. Which is why I went and got special permission for most of my classroom placements throughout the teaching program to be at alternative schools. In Colorado at least, alternative schools are small public schools which primarily serve students identified as “at risk”, which is shorthand for “Statistically more likely to drop out than the general population for one reason or another.”

I did not know when I asked to be placed in one, but learned within days of being there that most people that even know alternative schools exist, think of them as the places where “the bad kids” go. I realized very quickly that they are actually places filled with kids who have experienced a lot of trauma in and out of school and don’t respond to that trauma the way adults want them to respond. I came to adore kids at alternative schools because they remind me of my younger siblings.

Like my oldest brother, many of them find school mind numbingly easy and boring and have much more pressing matters to devote their mental energy to.

Like my middle brother, many of them have spent so much time around teachers who do not understand neurodivergence that have been convinced of the lie that they are weird, dumb and/or lazy and because of that, trying to participate in school is like hitting their head on a brick wall.

Like all of my brothers and my sisters, they have a ton of skills that they are brilliant at, but that are not prioritized by the school system, so they never pursue them, such as construction, music, makeup and programming.

Many, if not most of them come from living situations full of abuse and neglect and/or poverty so they don’t have the mental or emotional space to worry about much beyond survival, and not only haven’t learned how to make and achieve long term goals, but have never had the luxury of a stable enough environment for that kind of planning to be worthwhile.

All that being said, something that you only realize if you actually work in a few public alternative schools, as I have done through college and my current job, is that the name is actually an oxymoron.

What started me down the path of considering and researching all the ways school is an oppressive system, was a conversation I had with a student in my first year teaching. He was learning about chemical reactions and safety and asked me the infamous question, “Why do I have to learn about this?” to which I said “Because everything is chemicals and understanding how they can interact with one another and ways they can harm you can keep you safe when you do things like clean or cook.” To which he replied, “Well no offense but I have no idea how this shit relates to cooking and please don’t tell me because its not like I’m actually going to remember it when I am cooking, and I already know how to clean safely because of work. But you’re still going to make me learn this boring shit anyways so seriously, why do we have to learn about this?”

I paused to consider what he was asking. I had interpreted, as the system trained me to, that the question he was asking was, “what value does this knowledge hold?” But what he actually meant was “Why are you making me waste my time learning about this thing that I never asked to learn about?” So I replied, as a sort of test of my new understanding, “It’s part of the physical science curriculum the Education Department thinks is important for high schoolers to learn.” He was taken aback, “Wait, you don’t decide what stuff we learn about? What’s even the point of teachers then? Why don’t they just give us a list of all their stupid stuff they think we should know so we can get on with our lives?” He had a point and I have spent a lot of time reflecting on and growing from that conversation.

Sure, there are some key differences that make alternative schools slightly more tolerable than your standard 800-4,000 kid high school. Class sizes are smaller so students get more individualized help. We get funding to help students access things such as food, clothes, hygiene products, and healthcare and know students well enough that we actually know which kids are lacking these resources. We have slightly more leeway than traditional schools to create innovative lessons. We don’t give out homework.

But public alternative schools are still oppressive in most of the ways that the big schools are. I’m sure none of this will be a surprise to most readers, but I want you to really consider how restricted kids in public school are, how restricted you probably were in school as you read through this.

School starts early in the morning and students have to constantly shift mental gears throughout the day due to a tight schedule of constantly rotating classes and a very short lunch break. Throughout the day, bells tell students when they can’t or must move around or eat. Students have to ask when they need to go to the bathroom or get water and teachers cannot go at all outside of their plan period because students are not trusted to be in the classroom without an adult even for a few minutes. They have no control over who they share space with and very little control over their ability to leave that space if it conflicts with their needs. There is a strict dress code which disproportionately targets marginalized students. Students are expected to be sociable but not given nearly enough opportunities to actually socialize. The school keeps records of everything the student has ever gotten in trouble for, every class the student has taken, every grade they have received, their “class rank,” and every intervention program the student is part of. And like every public school, alternative schools must follow state curriculum standards and by extension, grading, data collection, and required testing. On the surface it might not seem like it, but that last point is actually the most insidious one and its the one that has followed students into remote learning during the pandemic.

According to the people who decide how schools work, there are four factors of student choice: These factors are Time, Place, Pace, and Path. For example, if I am running a unit on plate tectonics, rather than giving students a worksheet and telling them to work on it as we go through a slideshow and turn it in at the end of class, I could put them in groups, give them an online choice board of three different but roughly equivalent projects relating to plate tectonics to choose from, each with different rubrics for completion and tell them they can turn it in at any time in the next two weeks. And then instead of devoting class time to direct instruction, I would give them a variety of resources to peruse and teach them how to research more and let them choose what aspects of plate tectonics to focus on and how to present their information. Now, this is certainly a few steps in the right direction away from making kids sit in rows and listen to the teacher drone on about plate tectonics while they take notes. But it misses the most important factors of choice in my eyes, the things that I would be fired for if I actually gave them the choice about: How students spend their time and what they are allowed to prioritze.

None of this is to say that expecting kids to learn is inherently fucked up or that teaching inherently makes one an oppressive person. On the contrary, authentic teaching and learning are vital to our ability to solve our problems and grow as people. If all students were given the opportunities to spend their childhoods learning things that they were actually interested in, to explore the full breadth of knowledge that humans have compiled at their leisure without timelines or milestones except the ones they set for themselves, to socialize with people of all ages, to authentically participate in society both as learners and as educators, as leaders and as team members, the world wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be a lot less soul crushing.

Now, I mentioned at the beginning of this piece that authentic alternatives do exist.  To get you started on researching what’s out there, I recommend starting with Sudbury schools and the unschooling movement.

But unless these models somehow miraculously become a large and accepted enough presence to get government funding, or money ceases its hold on us all, the public school system will be the only one that most students, especially impoverished students, transient students, english language learners, and disabled students (especially those with profound disabilities) will have access to. Which is a damn shame and a problem I am committed to trying to figure out how to contribute to solving because those are the students whose lives would be most radically transformed for the better if they got the opportunities that these models provide.

[sinagrace]

Iceman’s been back on my mind lately. It started with the internet rumor that Shia Labeouf was being considered to play the role of Bobby Drake in a Marvel Cinematic Universe version of the X-Men. My DMs and @Mentions on social media were a mixture of intense reaction and then asking my take on who would make a great Bobby Drake (for the record: in my head I always saw him as a younger Antoni Porowski with a theater background, ‘cuz playing the funny guy with a vulnerable streak requires serious acting shops). My mind went back to the time of BC, when I was doing a lot of touring, and answering this very question because of my work on the Iceman book at Marvel. One thing led to another, and I decided to take a trip further down memory lane to look at my favorite volume of the series: Amazing Friends. Now, I know I’ve spent equal amounts of time publicly stating what a gift working on Iceman was, while also calling out the challenges that came with the experience, but the third volume really was a pure blessing. I was able to take every valuable lesson I learned as a writer, and apply it to telling a story that would be interesting to one person: Me. I’ve been a lifelong X-Men fan, I live and breathe comics, so my own expectations for a return to the series seemed like the only ones to really worry about meeting/ surpassing. The first two volumes had been so bogged down by rotating editors, complex continuity, company-wide events, multiple artists… The third volume was my chance to focus on what an Iceman series was outside of so much context. All that mattered was challenging myself to do an X-Men story that focused on the aspects of the franchise I felt were valuable and relevant, meaning: excuses to have Emma Frost be an asshole and finding an opportunity to make fun of Kitty Pryde’s haircut. Before moving on from Marvel, Axel Alonso made time to call me for a pep talk about the series. I wanted to get the series extended, and he wanted to help me succeed with the ten issues he could commit to. First, he offered an eleventh issue to give me more time on the stands. He took a look at everything I had planned, and basically told me to restructure with an eye for ramping up the pace. My writing background comes from prose and essays/ think pieces… both of which are methodical and provide some allowance from the reader to really take your time and set up the world before diving into the meat. That’s not the case with comics. You gotta work fast. Especially in today’s market, there is less and less room for a retailer to say, “give it two volumes, because shit starts really coming together by the third trade.” That was literally my speech for hooking people on such iconic series as Invincible, Fables, and Strangers in Paradise. Nowadays, every single issue is not a brick to be laid down as foundation so much as a bullet in your gun. Conflicting imagery, but that’s the point. Axel told me to think about the Big Moments in my life and sort out how to inject the mutant metaphor into it and make the most compelling comic book story I could. This was epic advice that I took with me into the new arc, but I struggled a bit with what could be bigger than the “coming out” storyline in volume one. Love was off the table because I wanted to keep Bobby single and ready to mingle. Death was off the table too, because my editor felt like we’d done enough with Bobby’s parents in the first two volumes. Upon looking at my own life, and considering the stuff me and my friends were dealing with, I landed on something a bit more reflective than LIFE or DEATH. I wanted to focus on that moment when a gay guy looks outside of himself and realizes the folks around him may not have it so easy. After everything we’ve been dealing with this summer, Iceman’s “big issue” of the arc feels oddly prescient. Bobby Drake had to reconcile his accidental complicit role in keeping the Morlocks down, and he has to investigate new approaches to being a better ally to those who don’t want to or can’t live under the protection of the X-Men. I used the Morlocks to allegorically speak to the issues that the trans/ NB community face today. Considering that trans folks are facing higher rates of homelessness and murder than other members of the LGBTQIA+ community, all I needed to do was find a perfect villain to treat the Morlocks as “lesser-than.” Cue Mister Sinister, who I wrote as particularly Darwinist with a major flair for interactive theater. While Amazing Friends definitely is the most fun I’ve had working on the book, it was also full of the heaviest shit I’ve written about. I’m so grateful that my editor let me use Emma Frost for a story about the trauma of gay conversion therapy with her brother Christian, but I’m still annoyed he wouldn’t let me put her in a sickening Givenchy outfit for her reveal. Similarly, creating the Madin character required that I chat with several mental healthcare professionals and members of the NB community to respectfully portray them as a resilient and fleshed out hero. I included personal lessons that I learned from years of the therapy (the sandcastle / sea image, a Jay Edidin fave moment). My editor and I weren’t always aligned, but we definitely were on each other’s side. He understood what I was trying to do and asked questions when something flew over his head, and he even had the good instincts to stop me from going too heavy handed with the ending. My original idea for the arc’s finale was to have Bobby become permanently scarred in his fight with Sinister, where he’d have a cool ice gash running across his face or something, a la Squall from Final Fantasy 8. The goal was to show Iceman stripping himself of his ability to pass as non-mutant to save the Morlocks, but the Mutant Pride fight scene being a stand-in for the Stonewall Riots kind of already made enough of a statement. Plus, no one in editorial wanted to deal with remembering to track his scar in other books. At first I tried to balk at his point of view, but when I looked over my original notes for the series, the point was to focus on optimism and hope. Giving Bobby a permanent scar and emphasizing the notion of sacrifice was too bleak a message for a series wherein the hero carbo-loads hoagies while riding an ice scooter and mutant drag queens emcee local festivals. Of course, the crowning achievement of the series… my mutant drag queen :) I’ve witnessed a lot when it comes to the world of pop culture and myth-making, and I 100% believe that you can’t plan the success of something. I’ve seen bands forced into breaking up because labels spend six figures failing at making listeners connect with an album. I witnessed firsthand how The Walking Dead was built from relatively humble beginnings as a buzzy cable drama into a literal international phenomenon over the course of its first three seasons. Everyone hopes for the best, but you never know how something will land with audiences. When the Shade character took off, I was truly astounded. Things I posted on Instagram while half-asleep became official quotes on major news sites. Queens and cosplayers were interpreting her like Margot Robbie had unveiled a new Harley Quinn lewk. The impact was so legit and immediate that we had to jump in and give Shade a proper Marvel hero alias, to truly welcome her into the X-Men canon. Hence the name change to Darkveil. (Funny story: I tried to fight hard for Madame X as an alias, but CB didn’t want another Agent X / “X-Name” character. Three months later, Madonna announced the Madame X album. Phew!) There was a time where I felt uncertain that the folks in charge at Marvel would bring Darkveil into any stories outside of the ones I wrote. My understanding was that Hickman was like the Cylons and had A Plan-- one that didn’t include her character. I made peace with my contribution to the Marvel Universe being contained, but then someone on social media pointed out that Darkveil showed up in an issue of Marvel Voices. After breaking down and reading Hickman’s House of X, I saw that his Plan was one of endless possibilities, and that he was moving EVERY character into new and dynamic places. I have hope now that he sees the possibilities with Darkveil, and takes advantage of her and all of her many body pouches. Amazing Friends really is my favorite thing I’ve done for the Big Two. I made a lifelong friend out of artist Nate Stockman (DC, please hire us for a Plasticman book), and I got to run a victory lap with the most encouraging and supportive readers out there. It was worth every dreadful conversation, every shitty thing a person said to me online, and all of the fun nonsense that goes into being creative for a living. Being stuck at home in quarantine has given me a lot of time to reflect on the gift that my career to date has been, and I feel so grateful to be where I am today. Other people may groan when they have to talk about something they’ve moved on from, but not me. I made people happier, I got to work with my favorite characters at Marvel, and and I'll say it again: it’s a frickin’ gift to make people move from your work. So, I will engage every tweet or message asking me my thoughts about who should play Bobby Drake in the Marvel Cinematic Universe… I’ll just never have a good answer.

[uwua3]

Bunniiiieeeee, have you considered being a goose or a duck? Ohohoho jkjk~ could I request Azuma blushing hc? Ily so much 💜

it’s my Sworn Enemy and Mortal Rival ruri *goose honk intensifies* but because i love you, i will Answer: i have T_____T now back to fighting you ♡ i hope you love it~

summary: who knew you would meet an angel at a 7/11 when it was 3am?

warnings: impossible beauty standards, insecurity, late nights, overthinking, unrealistic expectations

author’s note: this is for my favorite azuma stan of all time! my great friend who is definitely just as head over heels for him like the mc in this headcanon ♡

i wanted to touch upon azuma’s ego. although he’s definitely not arrogant about his looks, i feel as if pretty people can develop some sort of imposter complex of whether they really are who people see them as. i wanted to recognize maybe an inner people pleaser within him and someone who actively sought validation because he lacked it before he was considered “pretty”. this is mainly a romanticized take on imposter syndrome and what it means to have fake love for temporary satisfaction

word count: 1,335

music: water fountain – alec benjamin

convenience store angel.

❄️🍶 yukishiro azuma

why did everyone want azuma to sit still and look pretty?

it was like he was some victorian doll people played around with before becoming bored, abandoning him for someone so much better. someone, prettier

so azuma grew up following the latest classy fashion trends, locking himself in his bathroom to spend hours taking care of his hair, cashing out thousands to preserve his youthful appearance to defy his age

no matter what time of day it was, he always came off as the best version of himself. pale like the snow, because no one liked it when his face was red. azuma learned how to maintain his porcelain complexion to be even prettier

azuma knew he was pretty; after all, if he wasn’t, all his hard work would be for nothing in the end. he had to be pretty, easy on the eyes, it’s what he was meant to do

compliments had no effect on him anymore, he’s heard it all before: how delicate his dainty fingers were, how smooth his luxurious voice was against their ear, how he was the best they’ve ever had. he knows they lie, and lie, and lie, just to steal a moment with veludo way’s resident ethereal god. they all wanted something underneath their corrupt surface

azuma never believed any of them, no point getting his hopes up about a one night stand. he was just arm candy, something to show off like he was an a prop mannequin

they were all the same: azuma would leave early in the morning and never reached out to contact them again. they did the same, no wonder, he wasn’t pretty enough to be worth their phone bill

azuma would be by himself in the dangerous streets after sneaking out, walking hurriedly from the dark alleyways. he knew no matter what time it was, wolves in sheep’s clothing wanted a bite of him

even though it was safer to stay within his one night stand’s four walls, he couldn’t risk feeling something in any affair. staying in the morning meant wanting more, more visits, more time together

he didn’t have time for anyone else but himself

it was the same process: leaving at midnight, meeting up for drinks, and disappearing into the night at 3. for years, that’s all azuma knew how to do

but then you came along like out of a dream, appearing into his life out of thin air one night

azuma had his face down as he quickly walked towards the dorms silently, his blazer too tight and v–neck too revealing for the hungry eyes staring at him

passing by the convenience store, the LED lights glowed as azuma stepped inside to avoid the heavy set man that was just trailing behind him again. thank god for rest stops, azuma refused to have someone taint his appearance

maybe he was doing something right with his looks if men couldn’t stop following him home, azuma thought, unaware of how he was basing his self worth on creepy attention

the store was lined with racks of cheap food that was sure to give him acne and oily skin. azuma grimanced at the idea of breaking out, or god forbid, having a wrinkle! he’d get the worst possible attention, the one that came with gossips and insults. no, he needed every stranger’s validation on his beauty. he was pretty, right?

turning into one of the aisles to make a call for a ride home, azuma stopped dead as he saw you bent over your cart that was surely not cleaned, debating over two food options that were not healthy in the slightest

shit. he didn’t look, presentable, right now. azuma’s hair was tied down to the best of its abilities, but he could feel the flyaways from his scalp. his casual suit had lint and creases. even his shoes were smudged despite polishing them last night

a first impression, and you were going to forever remember him as an unkempt, messy fool who wasn’t socially acceptable. azuma felt his heart skip a beat as he maintained a charming, easygoing aura, attempting to scoot past you without drawing attention for once

“hey, you! come here a second!” you ordered, not even looking up as you were staring at the colorful advertisements labelled on each plastic bag

azuma held in a sigh as he turned around slowly, forcing a pleasant smile as he hummed a questioning tone against his will. his clients never liked it when he disagreed or talked too much, so wide eyes and thin smiles were the way to go

“what’s the best snack—” you began, pushing your hood out of the way as you finally looked at azuma. azuma who believed he was too ugly and your silence was a confirmation of that

“whoa.” you dropped randomly, squeezing one of the bags so hard that it popped open loudly much to both your dismay

flinching, azuma reprimanded himself mentally for showing any sign of weakness before hearing your laugh amidst the quiet neon store. you sounded out of place over the consistent fan rotating in the background and rare car or two speeding outside

“my bad! sorry, you’re just...” you trailed off, putting both bags anyway into your cart to buy anyways as you stood up to his level

azuma was ready to hear it. how he wasn’t even good enough to be outside right now. how he should try harder to please society’s beauty standards. how there were so many better and—

“beautiful. yeah, that’s it.” you finished, nervously smiling as you suddenly found the stock of usa–imported snacks the most interesting in the store

you’d never tell him until much later on, but azuma appeared like an angel in the dinky, rundown gas station. looking up, you saw his silver periwinkle hair illuminated in the bright white lights like a halo. his white undershirt was bright against his smooth skin and his striking sharp yellow eyes felt like a godsend. azuma was so beautiful in that moment, he took your breath away. he was so gorgeous and heavenly, it was a surprise you didn’t drop to worship him

azuma paused, his mind blanking for the first time in his entire life. he always had something to say, something to add that made the other person want him even more. but you, you didn’t look like you wanted to devour him whole and take advantage of him. you just looked... in awe? like, he was really pretty.

azuma turned red

azuma was blushing uncontrollably, because it’s almost as if you meant it. did you really think he was beautiful? more than pretty, more than an artificial sense of self? even like this? he wasn’t even at his best, he was average. there was no reason he could have warranted such a dramatic reaction

typically, azuma would easily take the compliment and have a graceful act of appreciation as his consistent insecurity over his appearance thudded in his ears

but this time, he didn’t know what to say. there was nothing to say. did you actually think he was beautiful?

azuma subconsciously lifted his hand to his ear, which was burning hot to the touch. but he didn’t feel embarrassed, he wanted to feel like the summer more

less cold, less frigid like he was frozen in time like a snowman. maybe for once, azuma wanted to be as fluid and everchanging as the water. azuma wanted to be melted, and your sunny smile burned him

two people stood inside a 24/7 convenience store, staring at each other with hundreds of questions but comfort they hadn’t found in anyone else. the cars outside whizzed past in the distance, the street lights changed colors, the sun was about to rise on their relationship. things were changing. they were changing

azuma blushed as red as the string of fate looped around their pinkies. he would do so many, many more times and you were always there to make it happen

[seokstyle]

critical condition (m) - 2

pair: hoseok x reader, light jungkook x reader (series) themes: med student!reader, nurse!hoseok, lots of medically-related flirting genre: smut, some fluff, future angst warnings: jealousyyyyy, alcohol, nothing too crazy (yet 👀)

you knew that your first rotation as a medical student was going to have its challenges. you did not anticipate one of those challenges to be dealing with a handsome ER nurse who won’t give you a break.

word count: 4k

part 1 | masterlist

“No, I am not going to call in pretending to be your dad and tell the ER secretary you’re sick.”

“Some friend you are, huh Joon,” you slump back in the cafeteria chair. “You know I would’ve done the same for you. They would’ve bought it if I told them it was food poisoning! AND,” you point your plastic knife at him for emphasis, “I could have given them a differential on what I think caused my symptoms, but no,” you grumble.

“Oh, come on, you know they would never buy it,” Namjoon laughs as you pout. “Weren’t you telling me a few days ago about how things have gotten a little easier?”

“Well... they kinda had, but-”

“No, no buts!” He puts up his hands to stop your protests. “No more selling yourself short! You even got praise from the attending, right?”

You nod hesitantly. Yes, you had told your friend about how the case presentation had gone okay with the tough-to-impress attending earlier, and you definitely had been a little more relaxed on your rotations since that day. Riding the confidence boost from that performance, you had been impressing the resident and attending physicians more and more with each day since.

“See? Besides,” Namjoon continues, “what good would it do to avoid whatever is bothering you? We don’t run from our problems, Y/N. We face them head on!”

You listen quietly to your friend’s lecture, twirling spaghetti around your fork and cursing his tendencies to slip into motivational speaker mode. Unlike you, Namjoon was blissfully unaware of what had transpired that day with Hoseok.

But you were definitely, definitely aware of the last time you saw him. And also aware that the reason you had been so relaxed was that you hadn’t had overlapping shifts scheduled with Hoseok since then.

Until today, that is.

You had no idea what to expect. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your evaluations; you trusted him enough to know that. But still, a 12 hour shift with Hoseok on your team after that stunt he pulled? It was filled with too many uncertainties for you to stay calm at this moment.

“Hey, are you okay?” You snap out of your thoughts. Namjoon is looking at you, concern etched across his features. “I know I’m messing around, but you have nothing to worry about. I promise.”

You smile. “I’m okay, Joon, I promise.” You extend your pinky out to him, a gesture to show you really meant it. He grins, wrapping his pinky around yours and squeezing. “Now go! You’re gonna be late!”

“Ah, shit,” he curses as he glances at the cafeteria wall clock, springing up from his seat with his dinner tray in hand. “Good luck, you got this!” he calls out to you, as he makes a mad dash back to the pediatric wing. You slump back in your seat with a sigh. Yeah, you’re gonna need all the good luck you can get.

You had continued under Seokjin’s charge for the past few days, and he had been gracious enough to not bring up the elephant in the room of what he had walked into that night. He had texted you last minute this morning to let you know he was off today and you would be under another resident’s charge tonight. You were thanking your lucky stars. After seeing how red his ears turned when he opened the supply closet on you both, you don’t think either you or Jin could have survived a shift with all three of you there at once.

As your luck would have it though, you and Hoseok have arrived at the same time, and before the resident. So now you are both here alone. Together.

He’s standing off to your left, reviewing charts assigned to you both on the mobile computer station. “So, how was your week without me? I hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Hoseok teases. You stiffen in response, avoiding eye contact. Were you supposed to pretend like you hadn’t been caught in a supply closet together in a very implicated position a week ago? Suddenly the floor tiling pattern seems so much more interesting than it did the last time you were in this part of the ER.

Hoseok frowns. “Hey, is everythi-”

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You startle, turning around to see who is calling you and have to physically stop your jaw from dropping open. Yet another incredibly handsome man in scrubs has appeared in front of you, trying to read your work badge to confirm your identity. Is it a requirement to be unbelievably attractive to work at this hospital?

Oh! This must be the resident Seokjin told you about!

“Yes, that’s me! And you must be Dr. Jeon?”

He laughs. “Please, call me Jungkook! I look forward to working with you,” he smiles and offers his hand. You shake it eagerly, noting the intricate tattoos adorning his arm. You hope you will be half as cool as him when you’re a resident. “Dr. Min had an emergent situation come up in trauma but he told me to handle admissions on our own for now.”

He turns his attention to the person behind you. “Hey man, it’s been a while since we worked shift together. How have you been Hoseok?”

“It’s been all right, it’s good to see you too,” Hoseok greets him, and you chance looking over in his direction. He grins at you and winks, and you feel your cheeks warm. Suddenly the floor pattern is of top interest again. “I think you’re going to enjoy working with Y/N, she always keeps me on my toes.”

Jungkook sent you in on the first case of the day alone. He said that he wanted to see how you perform so that he can better give you tips and pointers on how to improve, and that you can see the rest of patients that day together after he has an idea of what he’s working with. Hoseok is scribing for you, the mobile computer pulled over to the side of the room by the door while you work up your patient.

You list off whatever you’ve covered so far. You know you got HPI, social history, family history, past medical conditions, medications, and review of systems when you were taking the history. You performed the cardiology exam, pulmonary exam, abdominal exam (which you will never forget again), but nothing else seems to come to mind.

Still, you run through your mental list again in your mind to be sure. It was important to you to nail the first patient presentation of the shift. Making a good impression on the new resident was critical, especially seeing how it took days before the last attending had full faith in you again.

You turn to Hoseok out of habit to ask him. Before you can open your mouth, he turns and raises his eyebrows at you, staring back blankly. “Yes?”

You are taken aback, but press onwards. Surely he’ll be professional in front of a patient. “I just wanted to double-check with you if there’s anything you think might be pertinent that I might have overlooked?”

He raises his brow again, then turns back to type away at the computer. “I think you’ve made it clear you’re plenty capable of handling things without my help, don’t you think?”

Though he isn’t facing you anymore, you can hear the smirk in his voice. You turn away from him, annoyed. You were completely on your own for this one. You smile at the patient, who is wincing from pain and probably wants you out of his room as soon as possible. “I think I’ve asked and examined everything I need to at this time, sir! We will be back with the doctor shortly, and I’ll see if we can do something to manage your pain in the meantime.”

The three of you decide to set up shop at a computer station embedded into the emergency department hallways, just outside of the infamous conference room where you last made a fool of yourself in front of the attending and Seokjin. Hoseok is scribing off to the side, waiting for you to dictate your findings. He turns in your direction waiting for you to begin, and you nearly snap your neck trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“Okay, Y/N, ready when you are,” Jungkook says, smiling at you encouragingly.

You take a deep breath. “Our patient is a 55 year old male presenting with epigastric pain that radiates to his back. The pain began earlier this afternoon and was not relieved from taking Tylenol. He rates his pain as a 9 out of 10 in severity, constant and dull in quality, and the pain is relieved only from lying completely still.” Jungkook hums in agreement, scanning the chart while you present. You scan your mind for what else was most relevant from your discussion with the patient. “Social history is significant for alcohol use for the past 35 years, he says he drinks around 2-3 beers every evening. Family history was insignificant. Pertinent positives from review of systems include severe nausea and vomiting accompanying onset of pain earlier today.”

“Okay,” Jungkook muses. “That was a really thorough history, nice work. What about the physical exam?”

“Vitals showed a fever of 101.6°F, tachycardic at 110 BPM, and hypotensive at 110/70. On abdominal exam the patient had decreased bowel sounds and exhibited tenderness and guarding upon palpation of the upper quadrants, especially. Cardiac exam was regular rate and rhythm, no murmurs or rubs, and lungs were clear to auscultation bilaterally.”

Jungkook nods approvingly. “Very good! You’re a natural,” he remarks. “I liked how you organized info, and didn’t just word-dump everything or forget critical components. How long have you been in the ER?”

“This is my second week.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Only week 2 and you already have your own style and prioritization put together? I’m impressed.” You beam from the approval, not noticing how Hoseok’s usually cheery disposition has been replaced by a sulk as he watches the resident praise your presentation skills.

“So,” Jungkook finishes going over the chart and turns to face you directly. You can’t help but feel a little nervous despite his praise, especially when all of his attention is on you. “What’s your differential?”

“Well,” you start a little nervously, “top of my list is definitely acute pancreatitis, especially since epigastric pain radiating to the back is textbook for that condition, along with heavy alcohol use and nausea & vomiting. But,” you add quickly, remembering how Seokjin advised you to not latch on to one diagnosis when examining a patient, “it could also be… acute peritonitis! Or a neoplasm!”

Jungkook laughs. “I appreciate you offering multiple differentials, that’s always good to get in the habit of thinking that way. Though it sounds to me like your original was pretty spot-on.” You smile again and Hoseok mopes a little more as he types away at the computer.

“Actually, do you want to know a tip on how to confirm acute pancreatitis while you’re still doing the exam?” “Of course! That would be great, if you don’t mind,” you answer excitedly.

He grins in response, getting up from his stool and motioning for you to sit down in his place. You do so, a little confused, and he comes around to stand beside you. You realize that he’s going to show you how to do the trick on you. Oh. “All you have to do is sit the patient upright like this,” he places his hands on your shoulders, “and bend them forward like this,” he gently pushes you over until you’re hunched over at a 45° angle. “The pain should be so much better because the pancreas won’t be stretched out as much!”

You know it’s strictly clinical, but you can’t help but blush at the close proximity and the feel of his hands on you. Right at that moment, you happen to look up and meet eyes with Hoseok. He turns away abruptly and you barely see it but his expression... was that… jealousy?

“See? It’s super easy!” He pulls you back up to a normal sitting position. “Sometimes those patients will even be in a fetal position because it does the same trick while they’re laying down. Neat, huh?” You nod eagerly. “Now go check in on your patient and see if that maneuver helps confirm your diagnosis or not.”

“Thank you so much, that’s so helpful! You’re the best, Jungkook, what would I do without you?” you gush, touching his arm lightly as you get up to leave. Maybe you’re overdoing it a little, acting too exaggeratedly. But it’s worth it to see Hoseok’s jaw set in annoyance as he keeps typing away at the computer.

Jungkook is taken aback slightly, but smiles and nods in response. “Of course, it’s no problem! Now let’s go check on your patient together and see what a good assessment and plan would be for him.”

The rest of the shift flys by, to your surprise, and before you know it’s already time to clock out. You’re finishing up the last of your notes at one of the computer stations when you see Jungkook approaching. Usually Jin says his goodbyes and leaves you for the last hour so he can finish up loose ends. Was he coming over because you messed up something? Did you forget the write-up for room 4? Or sign off on room 8’s chart incorrectly? Or bring someone apple juice instead of orange?

“Hey,” he interrupts your panicked mental checklist, “I wanted to say thank you for making my shift a little bit easier and a little bit more fun,” he says, smiling warmly. “Some of the other staff were talking about going out for drinks later if you wanted to join?”

You’re a little dumbfounded from the offer. The cool resident wanted to hang out with you? You must be taking too long to reply, because Jungkook starts offering more details unprompted. “No pressure of course,” he adds. “The other residents were inviting some students so I thought I’d ask, not to overstep any boundaries or anything,” he continues a little nervously, “and I had asked a few of the other nurses like Hoseok to come too -”

Hoseok was going?

“But seriously you don’t have t-”

“I’d love to come! It’s so sweet of you to invite me,” you respond suddenly, taking both of you by surprise. “I’ll uh, get your number from Seokjin, let me know what time and where. I look forward to it!” You swipe your badge and log out, done with your notes, leaving Jungkook behind in his confusion.

Jungkook had texted you the location and meet-up details right as you were leaving your house, having taken a quick nap and freshened up after your shift before heading out again for the night. As you enter, you spot Jungkook sitting in a booth with a few of the other ER staff. You spot some other familiar faces, like the two radiology techs always glued at the hip, and of course Hoseok. You involuntarily suck in your breath. His crisp, white button-down under a leather jacket paired with ripped black jeans is so simple, yet still puts his scrubs to shame. He looks up from his conversation with one of the radiology techs (was that one Jimin, or was it Taehyung, you can’t remember), as if he felt you staring, but Jungkook gets up before either of you can react.  

“Hey! You made it, Y/N,” he greets you excitedly. “Here, let’s sit over at the bar for a bit.” Not with everyone else? Not with Hoseok? “Thank you so much for coming, it’s good to see you.” He pulls the barstool back and gestures for you to sit down, in very chivalrous fashion.

“No, thank you! I forgot I haven’t been to this bar since before board exams, and I missed it so much,” you sigh. Many drunken birthday and post-exam celebrations were made here during your first two years of medical school. “I think I deserve a drink for what this rotation has put me through already,” you tease.

He laughs in response. “I think that’s only fair. What would you like?”

Wait he’s actually buying you a drink? You were just joking! “Oh no,” you protest, “that’s okay! You don’t have to do that!”

He laughs again sweetly. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to! Think of it as my treat for the fun I had thanks to you today.” He gets the bartender’s attention. “This place has the best green tea shots, would that be okay with you?”

You nod your consent a little tentatively, and Jungkook proceeds with his order. The last time you had green tea shots here was after your gross anatomy final. To this day, neither you nor Namjoon can remember what happened that night. You do know that you woke up with a tray of fries in your bed the next morning, so it must have been a good time either way.

“All right, here you are!” Jungkook passes you your shot glass. “To a great shift, and many more together!” He lifts the drink in cheers, clinking glasses with you.

Right as you are about to tip the drink back, you make eye contact with Hoseok over Jungkook’s shoulder. His eyes are steely and he looks like he is fuming inside. If Hoseok was jealous of you getting clinical skill tips from Jungkook, you can only imagine how riled up he must be from seeing him buy you a drink. You shouldn’t be excited, but you can’t help but feel a thrill run down your back by seeing him react like this.

You tip the drink down your throat, keeping your eyes locked with Hoseok the entire time. The burn from the alcohol feels good and the shot is sweet, but seeing his jaw clench in anger is even more delicious. Last time he got to be so bold with you, it was only fair for you to reciprocate, wasn’t it? “Here, Jungkook,” you turn to the resident, “how about another round? This one’s on me.”

Hoseok has had it.

It’s already been hard enough faking paying attention to whatever Jimin and Taehyung have been going on and on in some passionate discussion all night before you made your entrance. Something about a video game about animals? That cross over horizons? He couldn’t guess if he tried. But ever since you had arrived, he couldn’t stop glancing over to your and Jungkook’s silhouettes every few moments.

It also didn’t help that you had shared round after round of shots with Jungkook. Giggling away at whatever jokes he had been making, resting your hand on his bicep, fluttering your lashes at him. And still had the audacity to look over at Hoseok and bite your lip every once in a while. He was infuriated. You had been too meek and timid to talk normally when you were at work, to the point that he was worried he had upset you or made you uncomfortable. He didn’t even get a chance to check in with you and clear things up. But you suddenly had the nerve to send him suggestive stares while another man was buying you drinks?

He needed to clear his head.

He gets up and excuses himself for the restroom, leaving Jimin and Taehyung alone to fervently argue over the turnip economy crashing and Tom Nook’s capitalist ways. He enters the single stall bathroom, turning the faucet on to splash his face with cold water. He looks at his reflection in the mirror. Get a grip, dude, he thinks to himself. He would have to get your attention later, when you were sober, and finally talk things out. Maybe the next time you were on shift you would let him. He just had to prepare himself to get through whatever show you were trying to put on tonight.

He grabs the handle, takes a deep breath in, and turns it to come face to face with you, letting out a little “oh!” sound of surprise. He takes in your doe-eyed appearance and stops dead in his tracks.

He had thought you were pretty when you were running on 6 hours of sleep (on a good day) in your ratty hospital scrubs, hair tied up and errant loose strands strewn about your face, coffee in hand as you ran from end to end of the emergency department. But this blew that out of the water. The red jumpsuit you had picked had a tasteful level of cleavage, just the right mix of sexy but still classy enough to wear in front of professional colleagues. That combined with a red-stain pout, long lashes, and your black peep toe heels, he feels a little bit breathless as he drinks you in.

Actively ignoring how his heart skips a beat, he stops checking you out and instead steels himself to question you on why you are a) unwilling to talk to him, yet b) trying to eye fuck him AND the resident at the same time, and c) following him into the bathroom.

“What,” he starts firmly, “are you trying t-”

“I’m sorry!”

He’s startled from your sudden outburst. “What?”

“I just wanted to say I’m really really really sorry for lying about and saying that you were the one who messed things up when it was really me who messed things up,” you ramble. “And I made you look bad and you’re not bad, you’re always good to everyone! You’re always good to me!”

Hoseok can’t help but to chuckle, confusion coloring his laugh. “What are you talking about?”

You sway on your feet and stumble a bit forward towards him. He catches you, restoring your balance and holding you steady by the shoulders gently. It is very apparent that you are drunk, likely the drunkest you have been in a long time, but you don’t let that deter you. “The really bad day! Where I messed up the physical exam and said it was your fault!”

Oh. He is taken aback; he had no idea that you were carrying around so much guilt over this. Was that why you had been avoiding talking to him at the hospital? “Well,” he begins, “would it make you feel better to know that your apology is accepted?” You contemplate his words, humming to yourself, then nod. He smiles. “Okay good, because I really don’t mind that much. I didn’t know you were that upset about it though,” he adds.

“Well, I have been,” you huff. He bites his lip to keep a laugh from escaping. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you for foreverrrrrrr but I didn’t get a chance!” You close your eyes, buzzing with contentment, a weight lifted off of your chest. He smiles for a split second at your reaction, until you suddenly open them again to eye him suspiciously. “Hey, wait a minute,” you exclaim, gears turning in your mind. “I didn’t get a chance because someone,” you poke him in the chest with your finger to emphasize your point, “decided to force me into a closet,” you poke him again, “and make me all hot and bothered instead of listening! So really,” another jab to the chest, “it’s your fault that I’m feeling guilty!”

“Hey, easy now!” Hoseok grabs your finger before you can poke him again. You pout at him, trying to free yourself from his grasp to no avail. It makes his heart melt, just a little. He pulls you in closer with the finger he’s holding, smirking at your surprised expression.  “If I remember correctly…,” he leans in to whisper in your ear, hearing your breath hitch, “I don’t think you had many complaints, did you?”

a/n: long time, no see, i know! i got caught up with school and studying this year but quarantine has my creative juices flowing again, so i’m planning on finishing this series soon (fingers crossed!!). thank you so much for reading,  i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! <3 

[bigskydreaming]

The really great thing about allowing Dick and Jason to have a good relationship before A Death in the Family IMO, is that it opens up sooooo many more possibilities for AFTER Jason’s return.

For example:

Imagine a scenario where Bruce is gone for a week or so, the ever so useful “there was an offworld mission or something” excuse will do. And during that time, Dick and Jason are patrolling and working together....and they have an encounter with a particularly nasty villain or serial killer or whatever you want to go with. The bottom line is something happens during that particular adventure of theirs that leaves them shaken enough that they agree not to tell Bruce about it (believing the guy is dead or something), and then they try and put it behind them and never speak of it again.

Except then cut to a few years later, after Jason has come back but before he’s reconciled with the family, things are still strained and tense when their paths so much as cross, but with added angst because an actual brotherly bond torn asunder by death, trauma and lots of changes gives you way more fodder to work with IMO than the singular facet of Dick feeling guilty for not knowing Jason better - I mean, you have to at least admit that does limit your options considerably, in terms of their interactions, BUT I DIGRESS.

But anyway, Jason doesn’t have anything against Dick in the way he does against Bruce, other than accepting Tim into the fold (which he does understand in a way, because its not all that different from when Dick accepted him into the family and Robin role despite having plenty of legitimate reasons to be a lot more reticent about that).....but they avoid each other because its just kinda painful, the fact that they don’t KNOW each other anymore, not the way they used to understand each other in ways even Bruce couldn’t always follow or understand. Plus Jason’s attack on Tim, even leaning on the Pit madness as an altered state of mind mitigating circumstance....like, that’s still a hard thing to get past, one brother being like “Hey, lets do movie night tomorrow and totes just skip over the awkwardness of me just coming from hanging out with Tim who still has bandages on account of you trying to kill him the other day”.....its not the easiest thing to navigate, yeah? 

And the fact that while Jason does understand its not fair to expect Dick to have like, iced out this kid he didn’t go seeking out or anything, just for the sake of Jason’s memory.....that understanding comes and goes with how rational or not he’s feeling any particular day, because he GETS it, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it and he is after all only nineteen, and capable of bouts of pettiness, lol.

So even without Dick barely knowing Jason or Jason hating or resenting Dick, there’s still plenty of roadblocks in the way of an easy brotherly reunion, plenty of understandable and valid emotions and priorities and choices that make everything a confusing mess and create conflicts of interest and just a general miasma of uncertainty where its like, even though they miss each other and would love to get back their sibling bond, they don’t even know where to begin trying to go about that, you know? And throw in the state of affairs between Bruce and Jason still, which can be summed up as picture the Cold War, but now when you picture ‘Cold’ think ‘Ice Age’ and you’re almost there.

Like. That is the Mt. Saint Helens of roadblocks right there. A big ass volcano sitting in the middle of the road and just cuz its dormant now doesn’t mean that it couldn’t at any minute erupt and blow its top and destroy everything within a several hundred mile radius, and that’s just before Bruce and Jason REALLY get steamed, like, that’s just their warm-up.

So. Y’know. Difficulties. They abound.

But now throw in secrets from the time before Jason died that only the two of them know and they never told anyone else, and adventures they had when it was just the two of them, Jason visiting Dick in Bludhaven or Dick enabling Jason in playing hooky in Gotham because at that time Dick rotates methods of pissing Bruce off and that’s his go-to move for Tuesdays, and crimes they solved together like Dick was working on an investigation and let Jason weigh in to practice his deductive reasoning without Bruce and thus impress him with how much he’s improved. 

(My personal headcanon of brotherly advice Dick imparts to Jason on how to deal with Bruce is him telling Jason “when dealing with a man who thinks holding impossible expectations IS taking it easy on someone, he doesn’t understand the question, can you repeat it please....like, in that case there’s no shame in stacking the deck a little, whenever that’s possible.’)

Anyway, point being.....all you really need is one singular bad guy that only Dick and Jason faced, together, when they were younger. Someone particularly nasty or sadistic, enough to disturb even them despite how much they’ve seen and lived. And who for whatever reason, both of them believed to be gone for good, maybe they thought he fell off a cliff into a conveniently placed body of water where no body could be found or blah blah blah look you’re smart cookies, you get it.

Take those few simple ingredients, chuck them in a metaphorical bowl and stir them all together and then leave on low heat to simmer.....

And voila. Just like that, you have a ready-made situation that forces Dick and Jason, specifically, to work together despite how tense and fractured things are between them, and needing to find a way to repair their brotherly bond and figure out how to work together the way they used to.......thanks to everyone’s favorite Tropey McTroperson wherein a villain most foul, long believed dead, seems to be back and up to his old villainy.....and only those two who faced him before know how to stop him.....and despite all the reasons they come up with in their heads for why teaming up together now is just a recipe for disaster and doomed to failure, this is on them. 

They were the ones who stopped this guy before, they were the ones who mistakenly believed he was dead and the threat he posed was gone for good.....which makes his dastardly return....dun dun dun.....unfinished business for them. Its personal. 

All the completely valid, well-reasoned and justifiable arguments for why its absolutely bonkers for them to try and make like the Dukes of Hazzard on this case as if they’re not at least a little bit miffed at each other for various things involving killing certain people and not killing certain people and trying to kill certain people and being totally unreasonable about the trying to kill certain people.....none of that is enough to get in the way of them doing their best to put all that aside for now and team up to stop this guy for good, the way they should have the first time.

Because let’s face it. One of the definitive areas of common ground that Dick and Jason share is when things are personal....they take it VERY personally. And when they feel responsible for something, like, you could get God on the phone to personally deliver absolution and assure them it wasn’t their fault, and they’d still be like “LOL yeah, okay, that’s a good one ‘God.’ Didn’t know all-knowing deities could be super hella wrong about things but hey, everyone’s allowed an off day I guess.”

Anyway.

Two brothers estranged due to extreme circumstances, trauma, loss, grief, blame, the completely unreasonable and frankly just rude passage of time, and assorted other reasons ranging from “you stole my favorite weapon-Bruce-definitely-didnt-know-I-had-and-kept-as-a-souvenir when I was fourteen and you STILL haven’t given it back” to “you can’t just shoot someone as your way of ending an uncomfortable conversation, Jason”......

But force them together via external situations or shared goals, and you have the perfect excuse to sidestep a lot of the more impossible to navigate conflicts born of comic book writers who don’t freaking know how to CHILL when piling on the family dysfunction......and engineer a situation where they pretty much HAVE to retrace previous footsteps, comb their memories for every detail they can recall about that case and in the process remember how close they were then, fall back into old patterns and rhythms while working together....and various other things that give you everything you need to transplant them mentally and emotionally to a time before all those conflicts and problems created by other people, not them, when things were....better. 

While through the mere fact they’re successfully able to fall back into old habits and patterns of working together at all.....you can put them face to face with evidence that despite how much they’ve both changed and everything that’s come between them, they are still fundamentally the same people they always were, and the shared experiences and common ground and all of that which enabled them to become brothers in the first place....its all still there, still able to be brought back out and dusted off and then used to forge a new brother bond that takes into account the ways they’ve changed since they last truly knew each other.

And none of that erases or solves the various complications and conflicts and issues that do still exist in the present, because of everything that’s happened in the past few years and the things they’ve all done.....BUT, it allows for Dick and Jason at least to rebuild or find a new, sturdy foundation on which to stand and plant themselves before wading back into all of that.....so at least now they do so with firmer footing, and with a clear direction and goal in mind.....navigating the emotional minefield from their respect opposing sides.....and aiming to meet somewhere in the middle.

And then with one family bond rejuvenated, revitalized and consciously reaffirmed by both of them......then its that much easier to turn their attentions to the rest of the family, one by one, and repair or forge those bonds through a concerted effort....not just Jason on the outside looking in, or members of the family on the inside looking out at him like he’s a poor, lost soul they need to save (I can’t help but picture Jason upchucking at the very thought, eww, how dare they)......but rather, a mix of both. Jason making his way back into the family via walking side by side with an ally on the inside who is still keeping pace with him so they can present a united front while they work towards a common goal they both want.....a family that acts like a family instead of like.....idk, y’know, that thing they act like in the comics that’s called ‘a family’ but also, they all hate each other and wish everyone else would die except for the times when they forget the others even exist at all.

Anyway. That of course, is just one angle that can be taken with them, out of the many possibilities that arise just from letting them have a good relationship before Jason died.....and all the shared history, in-jokes, secrets, camaraderie, grief, etc that comes with that.

My point is just.....I talk a lot rant a lot about the fanon and fic tendency to paint them as having barely known each other back then and with it largely blamed on Dick having been a stand-offish asshole because he has a chip on his shoulder named Bruce and its not a chip at all its actually Mt. Everest, yup, the whole dang mountain, yetis and all.......

And then I kinda just....keep it there on that and how much it bugs, because, y’know. It bugs.

BUT.

In keeping tunnel-vision locked on that and nothing else, I’ve never really expanded on the other byproduct of this fanon tendency that I think is worth considering:

And that’s the fact that this angle, this story? The one where Dick was a douche and Jason doesn’t really like him because of that until Dick apologizes for being a douche back then and begs for a second chance to do better, etc, etc? Its been told. Literally hundreds of fic writers have written that story by this point, and in the process limited...confined themselves, to this one singular possible dynamic between Dick and Jason when the thing is, like....that’s pretty much the ONLY story and angle that can result from Dick and Jason barely having a relationship before he died.....basically just various executions of acknowledging their previous lack of a relationship, assigning blame, making apologies and granting forgiveness, and then from there building a relationship from scratch. 

Obviously, people come up with unique spins on this all the time, I’m not saying the stories that do this are all exactly the same....just that there’s an innate ceiling to that particular premise, because when that specific dynamic of ‘no relationship really existed before’ is your one and only starting point......there’s only so many places you can go from that, and wind up in the present where you then proceed to have them make a relationship for the first time.

BUT. But but but but but.

The second you allow for the possibility that Dick and Jason DID have a relationship before ADITF, and it just happened largely ‘offscreen’ due to the fact that no solo Nightwing or Robin titles existed back then so there was nowhere to showcase just the two of them together......

You open up like.....so many more possibilities and angles and avenues and directions.

Because the thing is, y’know how so many people in fandom pride themselves on not feeling constrained by canon, or better yet, speak fondly about the idea of just taking a flamethrower to the whole damn thing and cackling maniacally while shouting “This one’s for Bruce/Dick/Jason/Tim/Cass/whomever your fave fam member of choice might be”?

Well. I mean. *spreads hands*

The second you flip the switch from “Dick and Jason barely knew each other and mostly didn’t like each other, this is the only canon that exists despite the fact that we just made it up because we could and canon can suck it”.....to.....”Dick and Jason did have a relationship and were close before Jason’s death, its just we never saw it develop on the page due to logistical constraints”......

Suddenly.....you have THREE WHOLE YEARS of possible interaction that you can literally cram full of WHATEVER YOU WANT, and canon can’t say a damn thing about it because its Schrodinger’s Adventures of Nightwing and Little Wing......without any canon viewing point set up to observe these interactions and thus force them into a singular form that you either like or you hate and set on fire.....those Adventures can look like aaaaaaaaaaaanything you want, and canon can kiss your patootie if it doesn’t like it!

Its three whole years of “lost family history” just waiting to be mined for all kinds of treasure, and you can unlock it in any number of ways once Jason returns, to any number of potential end points.

They could have faced villains together just by themselves during that time, they could have teamed up on investigations. They could have had sleepovers, Dick could have helped him cram for tests or covered for him when he just needed to take a mental health day because dealing with Gotham’s upper class can be exhausting and he doesn’t know how to explain that to Bruce in a way that won’t just lead to Bruce saying “I know, I get it, I hate it too” even though the ways in which its exhausting to Bruce and the ways its exhausting to Jason are not the same and not interchangeable.....but he doesn’t have to explain that to Dick, because Dick is closer to an understanding of it, he’s been there for a version of that himself, and they were assholes to him because of his lower class and unorthodox upbringing too.

You could have Jason tagging along on various official or unofficial Titans missions or just meet-ups, the way Jason teamed up with them for the Brother Blood story without Bruce ever knowing. Dick’s kid brother that nobody minded him bringing because they all adored him, and thus just by having him and Dick get along, you open the door to Jason having established dynamics and history with any number of Dick’s friends, allowing for a wide range of potential reactions to Jason and his Red Hood persona after he comes back.

You could have Jason being really invested in his brother’s relationship in Kori because he thinks Kori is just the fucking coolest, or you can have Jason secretly shipping his brother and Babs and thinking they’d be a much better match but keeping quiet about his opinion as long as Dick’s happy with Kori. You could have Jason panicked and turning to Dick for help and advice the first time he asks a date to one of his school’s formal dances, because he’s pretty sure he’d be able to provide actual proof that spontaneous human combustion IS possible, if he had to ask Bruce for romantic advice, like, aside from the fact that he’s seen flies trapped in amber whose relationships appear to advance at a faster pace than Bruce’s does with Selina, that’s his DAD, eww, he can’t ask his DAD to fill him in on what’s normal to expect and likely to be expected of him on this kind of/level of dating, but Dick? He can go to Dick for that, and imagine the adorbs potential. 

And the likelihood of various Titans coming up with the flimsiest of excuses to keep popping into the room in order to spy on the adorbs-ness, and the literal natural disaster that is the combination of Wally, Roy, Garth, Gar and Joey all trying to be ‘helpful’ and offer their own dating tips to Jason, while Donna and Lilith kick back with some popcorn while taking shots at the various boys’ expertise and credentials in this matter, if they’re gonna be offering advice to an impressionable young teen who doesn’t deserve to be saddled with having to learn from THEIR mistakes.

And on and on and on. Three whole years you can fill with any manner of adventures, secrets, shared stories, confessed ambitions and hopes and dreams for the future, commiserating on the parts of growing up in the spotlight in Gotham that Bruce just can’t relate to, sharing things from their pasts that they’ve never even told Bruce about purely because there are some things that are just easier to tell or talk about with a sibling close to your age than to your father.

But you see what I’m saying? Rounding Dick and Jason’s early relationship down to the barest bones until its practically being non-existent......that makes for a paragraph or at most a chapter dedicated to covering that ground, something that everyone pretty much expects to pop up in a story in order to address that history they have, or lack there of. And thus its never really a surprise to see it, there’s not a ton to take away from it, and it oftentimes ends up kinda just being filler despite even the best writers’ best attempts to make it engaging.....because there’s just not a lot to say about a relationship whose defining aspect is it didn’t really exist, and I’m pretty sure most writers would love to simply skip past that entirely and not even bother addressing it because it FEELS like writing filler a lot of times, I imagine. But at the same time, you kinda HAVE to include it and can’t really come up with a way to just leave it out entirely, without having a gaping hole in the meat of your actual story that explains how Dick and Jason got from there to here. Its a part of the story that everybody already knows, or expects.....but still demands being included, because canon just skipped over that entirely so there’s nothing from canon to even reference when shifting Dick and Jason into the kind of dynamic you want them to have or grow after his return.

And so its a paragraph or two paragraphs or a whole chapter that nobody really ever wants to write, because there’s not a whole lot of new ground to cover with it, and its kinda a cause for resentment, being stuck having to include it in every story covering Jason’s return anyway, even though there’s only limited ways you can stretch and exercise your creativity and expand on that particular angle.

But with Dick and Jason having an actual relationship pre-ADITF that is filled with nothing but whatever you choose to fill it with, whenever you feel like delving into it or dusting off an old memory or vacation or want to reveal some long-buried secret only the two of them know.....the sky’s the limit. Instead of that standard stock paragraph/chapter rehashing the take on that particular story that everyone already knows but narrative structure forces everyone to shoehorn in somewhere anyway.....there’s more than enough in those three lost/secret years of family history, especially specific to Dick and Jason, to serve as the basis for entire fics exploring that time, digging up secrets or mysteries that originated in that time, reminiscing about that time or diving back into existing dynamics with people Jason met through Dick during that time without having to write Jason meeting them or only getting to know them for the first time as an adult.

(Omggggggg, imagine a story that’s just Dick and Jason and Uncle Clark, or Dick and Jason and Aunt Diana, and like, Bruce is like I GO OUT OF TOWN FOR ONE NIGHT AND YOU SOMEHOW END UP WITH MY KIDS HELPING YOU FIGHT AN ALIEN/DEMON INVASION ON SOME OTHER PLANET/DIMENSION??? WHAT THE HELL!)

In conclusion, you hate canon and how much it fucks with the Batfamily? Totally with you. But this is the one period in these characters’ lives where canon doesn’t actually weigh you down or cage you in if you don’t want it to....instead it gives you the gift of being whatever the hell you want it to be, just so long as you make sure everyone ends where they need to be by the time ADITF happens. (Assuming you don’t just end up going full AU by that point since there’s no law saying Jason HAS to die or else the DC universe will destabilize and implode in upon itself).

Anyway, I’ve waxed poetic about this long enough, I think, and without a single line of poetry to show for it, but that’s for the best. Me to poetry is like a butcher to a carcass, but only if this particular butcher is very bad at his job and always makes a mess everywhere, and it just never ends well for anybody.

And now, as usual, I end an overly long post that exhausted my brain cells and made me sputter to a stop just before I come up with an ending to the post that actually makes sense and isn’t just me going, hey you know what, maybe there is something to be said after all for the Sopranos’ sty - 

[bigdanteague3]

Red dress...here we go in chronological order.  I had a friend from high school.  He dated the same girl for many many years.  We lived together after high school.  His girlfriend lived really nearby.  Walking distance.  She had a roommate.  I knew his girlfriend obviously.  I liked her, we were friends, she would come over often of course.  The 3 of us would occasionally watch movies or just whatever.  We’d all known each other for at least 10 years or more.  Anyway, at some point, her roommate also came over one day.  Pretty girl.  Not like...drop dead...but definitely pretty.  Slim body, pretty nice sized boobs, and pretty good butt.  Nothing happened.  It wasn’t just the 4 of us on a double date and anything awkward.  There were like 10-12 people there and I noticed her but nothing unusual at all.  I was still unhappily dating Emma the lion and not generally happy lol.  I remember talking to her maybe?  Maybe not?

Anyway, a few days later my friend tells me that even though she has a boyfriend, dress girl thinks I’m hot.  Interested in me.  I can’t call her dress girl...let’s call her......Holly.  Remember I’m easily flattered and I needed a confidence boost so this was like some primo A+ ego boost.  I ask about her boyfriend and my friend tells me he’s never met him and he doesn’t come around.  I file this away for future reference.

They come around again and armed with my new found knowledge, I make a point to speak to her.  I don’t think I was bold enough to try some cheesy pick up line...but I had a conversation with her.  This happens a couple of more times soon after.  I remember one time telling her I liked her shirt.  Because I’m fucking smooth.  Emma is being a bitch as always and I’m wondering if there’s a possible something there.  One night they come around and are heading out to a party.  They ask me to go but I can’t.  I do remember walking her out and talking to her outside.  Nothing more.

Phone rang about 2am.  I knew who it was.  It was Holly.  She was like 3 miles away at the party and needed to get home and was wondering if I could come get her.  She asked if I was asleep and I lied and said no.  I was there 5 minutes later and she comes out with a 7up bottle.  I can’t remember why we didn’t immediately leave but we sat there for like 5 minutes.  Waiting for someone else I assume.  She wasn’t drunk.  She was slapping the bottle on her leg and then my leg.  Pop pop.  Definitely throwing vibes.  She comes to pop my leg again and I grab it.  A little tug of war and I take it from her and take a sip.  Pop her leg.  I pretend to give it back and she reaches for it but I don’t let go.  I ask her if she wants it and she says yes.  So I kissed her.  Let her have the bottle but I kissed her good.  I think we were interrupted by whoever we were waiting on getting in. 

I take her back and don’t expect anything more.  I don’t make a move to get out but she says I should come in.  I do.  We go at it as soon as the door shuts.  She leads me to the......couch.  Not the bedroom.  That’s ok.  We make out and I get on top of her and grind into her.  She makes no move for the bedroom and I’m not going to be a dick and move too quick.  So that’s all that happened that night.  Making out, dry humping and maybe a rubbed titty.  My friend walked through in the middle and didn’t say a word.

It wasn’t long before word got back to me that I should come over again.  I did. When I went in she was on the couch again, a 7up bottle on the coffee table and she was wearing like this seafoam green dress.  I went to the couch and we started repeating the first night.  I was wearing gym shorts and as I got on top of her and kissed her, that seafoam dress kept riding up and showing her panties.  They were cotton, said Victoria’s Secret on them and were nearly the exact same color as the dress.  She tugged the dress down a couple of times before finally saying something to the effect of fuck it....I told her I liked it better that way and we continued.  I’m putting my dick right on her pussy and thrusting again.  I pull the dress up even higher and her titties fall out.  She has/had really pretty nipples...puffy and poky. Really round and dark. They were hard and easy to play with. She’s on her back on the couch and I don’t want to be the one to invite myself to her room.  So I don’t.  She’s fucking into it though.  I give them a little lick and suck and she’s grabbing my dick through my shorts. That hard nipple between my lips, sucking and licking softly. Little moans. She likes nipple play. I’m on top of her kinda hovering and holding myself up with my arms. She’s grabbing my dick like she’s mad at it so I stop sucking for a minute. Through those soft gym shorts. Tugging hard.  Beating me off through them. I sit upright on my ass and feet on floor and she keeps going.  She sits up too and puts her hands in the waist and pulls shorts out a little...getting a peek.  She sticks her hand down there and smiles.  I smiled and helped the process by pulling them down.  I’m sitting in the middle of the couch, she’s stroking me good. My head leaned back just relaxed and enjoying it. I’m telling her how good it feels. You’re amazing, yes, like that. Your hands feel so good. Her hands were really soft.  I wouldn’t say she really sucked it...but she did lean over and put it in her mouth so it counts. A few licks up and down shaft. A couple of sucks and then back to Jerking.  Handjob was really good and I told her she was going to make me cum....she kept tugging and jerking really firmly and I rotated my hips a toward her so I could cum on her legs and stomach.  I’m not going to let a pretty bitch jerk me off or suck me off and not cum on her. That would be a wasted opportunity. If life gives you the chance to cum on a pretty bitch, you cum on her. By the time it actually shot out I was almost facing her and she’s tugging and twisting and I know it’s going to be a big one. An intense one. Most of it sprayed her thighs, panties and stomach. Biggest shot was that area between her belly and her bush. I came a lot. It was good. She seemed pleased with herself. 

I had learned how to eat pussy by this point and I wanted to return the favor...i put my hand on her chest and laid her back down...I pulled those seafoam panties down and she spreads her legs for me like a good girl. She had her pussy trimmed pretty short...scissor cut I think, not super short and not shaved but a nice pretty triangle..and I went to work.  Licking her clit slowly and steadily....sucking a little...sliding my finger in and out.  She was really fucking tight. Little pussy. I didn’t just hammer away...first one finger then 2...I would slide and curl inside her a little. Slide and curl. Little drops of my cum were on her thighs and the money shot right above her bush. I clearly remember getting her pussy hair in my mouth and liking it.  She had her legs spread as far as possible and was fucking moaning. One foot on floor, other against back of couch and bent at knee.  She had really good sex noises. Not forced or fake. I spread her lips out wide and just licked her clit and soaked in the noises and the wetness, I knew I was killing it...she came and she came fucking hard. Grabbed my head, slapped the couch. I just kept flicking my tongue and she squealed. I loved those sounds and knowing she came on my mouth. Not going to say she screamed.  But she didn’t give a fuck who heard.  Not going to say she quivered in delight.  But I think she did.  There were some involuntary spasms. It wasn’t a put-on. It was good. Pretty sure she’d never had her pussy eaten like that. Never had it eaten that good. Not sure she had ever cum that hard either. I asked her if she liked it and she just breathed really hard like she had just run 10 miles and couldn’t get words out and nodded. Told her I did too. I remember kissing her immediately after with her pussy juice all over my face. She didn’t object or back away at all. I still had my shorts down and my dick was resting on her bush and close to her pussy as we made out. We weren’t in a rush to get dressed or clean up. But nothing more was going to happen. Her pussy stayed out, my dick stayed out. I made sure to take many mental pictures to file away of her pussy and titties. We kissed a little more just exposed like that. Maybe 2-3 minutes. I was hard again but there were no further activities. I got dressed, she wiped the cum off her belly with her hands and we kissed goodnight. Thinking this could become a thing and the first of many.

It did not become a thing.  She moved home for the summer without telling me bye and I even found her number and called her and she politely declined.  Boyfriend guilt I guess. I never saw her again. Flash forward 19 years

I see her in public with lots of people around.  We are outdoors and she walks toward me in a fucking pair of yoga pants.  She didn’t just walk, she sashayed.  She says, “I bet you don’t even remember me” and I cut her off right there.  I said “of course I remember you” and what my mind was thinking was not what I said.  What I thought was ‘once you pick somebody’s pussy hair out of your mouth, its hard to forget’.  But surrounded by so many people and not being a d-bag...i just say ‘of course I remember you...you look exactly the same’.  I think that was pretty smooth and I’m not usually smooth.  A subtle compliment to say she still pretty bad but nothing that could be taken the wrong way. She smiles and I ask her how its going blah, blah...and she walks away with that booty in those pants.  That was over a year ago. 

Flash forward to recently.  Fate has thrown us together.  Not in that way.  She’s married and I assume happily.  But I don’t see the husband often.  Its usually just her.  We are friends on facebook and they have a shared account.  Its always very polite and cordial.  Friendly. One time it was just us and she mentioned how long she had been out of school and I slyly said something like that’s impossible, seems like yesterday. (hint hint, I remember your fucking panties, and your poky nipples). She really does look the same.  I know she remembers and like I said about others...that’s fucking hot.  Does she think about how good I licked that pussy every time she sees me? She has to right? How I made her squirm and how she took my dick out and how it felt. Even if she fucked 50 guys later, you never forget. The red dress was nice and all and we talked for a few minutes before leaving.  She leaned in to tell me something privately.  Not super close but she lowered her voice. I pretended not to hear everything and said what? I heard her fine I just wanted her to lean in closer and invade more personal space. She leaned closer, repeated it, I leaned closer and listened. She also leaned down at one point and I took a quick peek and saw pretty much her whole bra.  It was black and basic and she didn’t know it was visible. It was all innocent and I made it sound dirtier than it was. But the titties still look good. There was no touching and even when she talked quietly about something pretty dull, I wasn’t brushing against her. Just talking to you earlier made me feel little bolder to see if I could get her closer. Share a secret. A boring secret. Really just something she didn’t want one person to overhear.

That’s it.  That’s the full truth and story.  She still wears yoga pants occasionally and I see her 2 or 3 times a week.  Most times its just hey...bye.  See you later.  Nothing will ever happen. But sometimes she seems to try to get a minute or a second alone. And she still has soft hands.

I also realize how unlikely this sounds. But it’s true. I tried to think of a way of sneaking a pic with her in background so you could see the dress. But that felt dirty and shameful. Like...look at this pretty tree and her being far left of frame. It’s also kind of cheesy to post a handjob story after you talked about getting skullfucked. But it is what it is. Maybe I can sneak an innocent pic later

[soybeeftacos]

A Long Rant and Mediocre Analysis of the Future of My Beloved Jinteki Faction, by scd.

I have been thinking about Jinteki and the impending rotation of a lot of Jinteki cards...

As many have, I eagerly anticipate the upcoming System Update and System Gateway releases from NISEI. I’ve not been the hugest fan of Ashes, to put it mildly, especially their ID design. As someone on the Green Level Clearance Discord said the other day (I forget who, sorry), it’s almost as if they made every Runner a different kind of Shaper. And the Corps are, by and large, uncompetitive and overly fiddly for my tastes — oh, how I wish Hyoubu Institute was any good! I’m dipping my toes back into Standard after a few years away, and have lately been trying to get my head around what’s coming around the corner, especially since beyond Engram Flush and LaCosta Grid, I don’t see a ton to be excited about in recent Jinteki cards.

Then it dawned on me, with the upcoming replacement of SC2019, Honor & Profit, and the SanSan Cycle, we are actually losing a lot of Jinteki cards. This hit me most the most at the level of identities. On the potential chopping block are: Jinteki: Personal Evolution, Jinteki: Replication Perfection, Harmony Medtech, Nisei Division, Tennin Institute, Jinteki Biotech, and Chronos Protocol. Add in that Mti Mwekundu and Jinteki: Potential Unleashed are currently banned, this leaves the competitive pool as of System Gateway/System Update: one of the above identities (if the rumors that System Update will have only one Corp ID per faction are true), the new Jinteki ID in System Gateway, then Pālanā Foods, AgInfusion, and Saraswati. No other legal Jinteki IDs. I understand that the first two are solid glacier choices, and I actually quite like Saraswati, but I want more and more variety.

So it’s a bit of a bummer for my favorite faction, which has had goofy FA Tennin decks, Punitive Medtech techs, Complete Image Chronos Protocol kill decks, lots and lots of different PE decks. Will we see the death of the Jinteki I loved? Or will it rise again from the proverbial coffin of rotation? (Yes, this was all an elaborate justification for using the old GIF above that I think Eric Caoili made many years ago).

I’m basically just sick of Jinteki glacier. It’s never been fun for me, nor does it feel like what the faction should be primarily “about.” Jinteki’s current state as a glacier faction primarily has as much to do with what’s been banned as much as what’s been printed (LaCosta, for instance). If there are enough net damage cards in the pool, someone will make yet another new version of the caustic “Potatoes” deck and then NISEI will ban a bunch of the most troublesome cards again. Ignoring currents, there are five Jinteki cards on the current banlist, which is tied with Weyland for the most — followed by four NBN cards, two HB cards, and four neutrals.

If System Update has only one Corp ID per faction, as the recent rumor has stated, then I’ll be bummed out. If it’s true, I fully expect that Personal Evolution will be the one to stick around. It’s always been at least marginally playable, it does something different (a net damage tax), and it’s intelligible for new players. But what other cards stick around? What else should stick around? I thought I’d look and see what cards are actually going to rotate and which ones I was most upset about. What I found was actually a little surprising to me — while I claim I love this faction, I’m, uh, not going to miss many of these! I’ve gone through below and identified from SC2019, Honor & Profit, and the SanSan Cycle all of the cards that I suspect just can’t go and/or I’d be real sad if they did.

From the pool of SC2019 Cards, here’s what I’d hold onto:

Jinteki: Personal Evolution Nisei Mk II Fetal AI Philotic Entanglement Project Junebug Ronin Snare! Neural EMP

All of these are such key cards to me, I just can’t see Jinteki without nearly all of them. Fetal AI, Philotic and Ronin are possibly marginal, but I think NISEI really made the right call bringing Fetal back (t’s a beautiful card on a number of levels); Philotic being limited to 1-per-deck has always made it a fun surprise and/or a welcome 3/2 in the faction; and without Ronin or a suitable combo-kill replacement, I don’t see the faction moving beyond just glacier decks. Can you imagine Netrunner without Snare!? Or NISEI getting rid of Nisei Mk II? Personal Evolution, Neural EMP, Junebug — these have always been faction-defining cards to me, and I don’t see NISEI being foolish enough to mess with that.

So, what would I lose from SC2019?

Jinteki: Replicating Perfection Sundew Hokusai Grid Celebrity Gift Trick of Light Himitsu-Bako Wall of Thorns Lotus Field Yagura Neural Katana Swordsman Tsurugi

A lot of great cards here, but push come to shove, I could lose any of them. I’ll miss all of these if they all go, and I won’t be sad if any are kept (other than maybe RP, as I think there are better options, if NISEI has more than one core Jinteki ID in System Update; see below).

Onward and on to the Honor & Profit Cards:

Psychic Field Mushin No Shin Komainu

This genuinely surprised me! I had expected that there would be many, many more Honor & Profit cards I’d want to keep. As a Jinteki lover, I’ve played with all of the cards in this box (with the possible exception of NeoTokyo Grid), but only Psychic Field, Mushin, and Komainu seemed obvious keepers to me. Now, now, I’m sure there’s some group of people out there who think Mushin is "bad” and I understand that, but without Mushin there needs to be something I want there to be something that has a similar effect — Saraswati is kinda it, but it’s also the ID itself and Mushin as an ID is not the same. I think Mushin needs to be kept to help facilitate the shell game Jinteki that has been a staple since Hinkes’ Cambridge PE. In the online play world of Jinteki.net, many people would love to see mind games and traps leave the game entirely, but I don’t think NISEI does (given that they kept Cerebral Overwriter in Uprising). Psychic Field, I’d keep, partially to facilitate this but also as a necessary, hard 419 counter — a counter on a mechanical vector that is not just about money and math. Komainu is a beautiful piece of ice, and one I’d love to see stay in the game.

So, what are we losing if I ruled NISEI?

Harmony Medtech Nisei Division Tennin Institute House of Knives Medical Breakthrough The Future Perfect Chairman Hiro Mental Health Clinic Shi.Kyū Tenma Line Cerebral Cast Medical Research Fundraiser Inazuma Pup Shiro Susanoo-no-Mikoto NeoTokyo Grid Tori Hanzō

Ouch. There are a lot of almost-keepers here. House of Knives, TFP, Tennin, Pup, and Susanoo, are all cards I’d love to see stick around but frankly, I don’t think they really need to. TFP is a great defensive agenda but we already have some fantastic defensive agendas in the faction (and I’d love to see what NISEI cooks up for other defensive Jinteki 5/3s). House of Knives is a great card and maybe it should stick around, I dunno, but perhaps there’s more interesting space to explore in net-damaging 3/1s (plus, we just got Sting! somewhat recently). These remaining ice don’t get a lot of play, even if they once did (like Pup); I’d be happy to see any of them stick around, but I’d also like to see new ideas. So, they can all go.

What about the SanSan Cycle? I���d keep:

Jinteki Biotech: Life Imagined Crick Cortex Lock Marcus Batty An Offer You Can’t Refuse

Okay, whoa, there’s actually an ID in here! Yeah, I love Biotech, even if I haven’t played it in a long time. I feel like Biotech needed just another couple of cards to make the other non-Brewery flip sides workable. I’d love to see NISEI attempt to fix an ID rather than just rotate it. Crick and Cortex Lock seem like such solid, interesting ice that I wouldn’t want to lose either — Cortex Lock is of course a wonderful facechecking ice, good early game ice that was only really ever a problem during the Mti meta. I’ve always loved the positional ice of that cycle, and Crick is lovely. Batty is too fun to ignore and is versatile for multiple decks, and is not stifling like other defensive upgrades. And An Offer You Can’t Refuse — clearly the weirdest, least-played card of this entire post — I just want to keep it around, for the novelty of forcing a run on the Corp’s turn and its related rules confusions. And for the memes.

What would we lose?

Genetic Resequencing Ancestral Imager Allele Repression Genetics Pavilion Lockdown It’s a Trap! Clairvoyant Monitor Chronos Protocol: Selective Mind-Mapping Recruiting Trip Valley Grid

Not a lot here that I really care about, I guess? Genetics Pavilion is probably the one I’d miss the most, not that it’s had much play since Wyldside rotated. And Chronos Protocol — I’m glad it got a brief moment to shine in the sun of Complete Image, but I’m not going to miss it otherwise. Maybe Allele Repression, but frankly, Genotyping, Preemptive Action, etc. have shown that Operation-based card recycling is the best way to go post-Jackson. The rest of these cards were, I think, pretty mediocre design; I’m surprised at how little wheat to chaff there was in SanSan for Jinteki, as my memory is quite different!

And, of course, with the release of System Update, we’ll presumably get some other old cards resurfacing that we haven’t seen in a while. I certainly hope NISEI gets aggressive and interesting with these choices, as I think they did a pretty good job with SC2019 (even if I found Core Experience to be a slog of a format). I’m excited at the options of what from the original core, Genesis, Spin, and Lunar might resurface. If it were up to me, here are the four cards that I would bring back:

Hostile Infrastructure Shock! Edge of World Industrial Genomics

Okay, okay, Hostile Infrastructure won’t be popular, but I love it. It’s expensive to rez and with SanSan gone there won’t be the old Breaker Bay Grid cheese to get it rezzed for free. It’s been back in the meta with Salvaged Memories for a bit now and doesn’t appear to be the scourge of the meta, so why not just keep it? More importantly, I’d love to see Shock! come back — it felt infinitely more fair than Breached Dome with a similar (albeit costlier to trash) effect. Edge of World was a jank-enabler that I would love to see again (perhaps because I’m currently playing Retrunner with these old cards again), and then there’s ... Industrial Genomics.

Okay, okay, okay, I hear you, “IG bad.” It’s a mean, mean, Bad People Play It™ identity that made you cry real bad that one time. It did the same to me once, too! I get that perspective, but if we are going to choose a Jinteki ID that is very functionally different than Personal Evolution to complement it in System Update, I’d like one that facilitates the kinds of play IG does. Biotech fits that bill, but frankly, Biotech unless it gets the card support will just be another Brewery kill ID, and I’m not sure NISEI are thinking that’s worth keeping. I’m being hopelessly optimistic that we’ll be getting three Jinteki IDs when System Gateway and Update drop rather than just two, and if I had to choose between Biotech and IG, I’m going IG every time.

Now, with Kakurenbo in the cardpool, a return of IG just can’t happen; so... ban Kakurenbo! It is a ridiculous card that was, seemingly, mainly designed for IG to play in Eternal. I can’t see any other good use for it, at least. Bring back the old IG from before Bio-Ethics prison. Bring back Shock! Hell, even go ahead and ban Bio-Ethics — gasp, I can’t believe I’m typing such blashemy — and give us something that can open up new kinds of play with this interesting, classic, and overly-maligned ID. Industrial Genomics was a weird thing of beauty, and it deserves another run. Laugh at me all you want, you know I’m right.

One more thing — what about Caprice Nisei? Shouldn’t she be discussed? Nah, she gets no love from me, simply because of the playstyle she empowers. Caprice is of course a great and meta-defining card — for glacier! But haven’t we had enough of glacier by now? Like, two years of mainly glacier Jinteki? And I’m the lord of my own barely-read blog fiefdom; I decree that if you really want a psi game to protect your agenda, you should just go play Hyoubu Precog Manifold.

Anyway, just some thoughts by someone who doesn’t play any Standard but wants to do more. I started writing this thinking it was about the dire state of Jinteki, but I’m now left thinking there’s actually a much smaller set of must-keep Jinteki cards than I initially thought. Granted, most of them are non-ice cards, and that’s a problem here — only a handful of ice here seem really necessary to keep. And maybe that’s what this is about; encouraging more deckbuilding that has little to do with building remotes.

I’m most concerned about IDs. Keeping PE and either Biotech or IG would make me personally happy, and Tennin would be an acceptable “sure, why not.” There’s a lot of potential for Jinteki to move into more forms of play that aren’t so glacier-heavy, and I’m hopeful about that. I do think what they do in System Gateway and System Update will need to address the loss of Jinteki cards, but perhaps not as seriously as I had feared when I started writing this.

Anyway, I’d love to hear any reactions to this. Long Live Chairman Hiro!

[riizev2]

The Living Timeline of Riize Wintersong

RPing is hard. Keeping track of nearly three years of continuity is harder. Here is my organized timeline of Riize’s life for those interested in RPing her now that I’ve returned. I recognize that this is based primarily on my own recollection of plot events, so I have chosen to tag in as many blogs as possible for those interested in hearing the other side of these stories.

However, times change. A lot has happened in two years and my recollection is far from perfect or impartial. In that vein, this is going to be considered a living document. It may change as new information is brought to my attention. Furthermore, some of the people mentioned here are not on good terms with each other (or with me lmao), so take some of this with a grain of salt. This might end up being more for me than for you.

That leads to what’s in brackets. Certain story beats that happened previous have been decided to be written out of continuity for a variety of reasons. Out of respect to the wishes of those involved, certain characters have been omitted even though they did have canon interactions with Riize previously. If I feel that the scene in question is still required to understand Riize’s current characterization, I will leave them in with brackets. The names and occupations of those involved will be changed for the sake of obscuring the identities of those involved and to open up future revisits to old topics now that I have more control over certain elements of Riize’s past. 

I’m organizing it by patch because using the IRL timeline might awaken Blizzard’s lore department. Bold information was originally supposed to be proper nouns and important events but it got a little bit away from me. Just fucking kidding I deleted one word and half the hyperlinks broke and all the bolding disappeared so nothing is bold now. Also Tumblr ate this post twice so I’m kind of trying to get it up before it happens a third time. If edits need to be made, I will write a reblog with the changes as they happen (unless it is basic grammar or more comprehensive formatting)

With that said, let us begin.

Backstory:

Riize Wintersong was born in Darkshore to a priestess and a druid. Her childhood was largely uneventful, training under her mother as a Priestess of Elune while spending her spare time exploring the coastline. As she grew older, she decided that her true love was the sea and became a sailor. Travelling around Western Kalimdor, she became a rotating member of various trade ships that provided food and supplies to other kaldorei settlements on the continent.

In the lead up to the Third War, Riize joined the Alliance Navy and sailed much of Azeroth. During this period she learned much about dwarven and gnomish engineering and worked to maintain the components of ships. While only obtaining the title of Seamen, these years kindled her love for tinkering.

Riize left the military after fulfilling her tour of duty in Northrend. Like many she did experience whispers of the the Old God Yogg-Saron, but did not yet begin her study of the Void until far later. During her time as a civilian she fished and sailed for recreation purposes. After the Cataclysm she returned to the sea as a hired hand on any vessel that would take her. This began her integration into less savory groups.

Riize’s status as a sailor-for-hire was the status quo leading into her playable first appearance in...

Patch 7.3

At this time, Riize is a member of the pirate gang the Dreadwing Vultures. Operating under the professional alias of ‘Nine,’ she sailed with the group for fun and profit. While occasionally brushing against the machinations of Unit Eight, her time with the group was generally enjoyable. Around this time is her first meetings with Corine Blythe, Saelkath Alzarah (@saelkath-alzarah) , and Kat Hawke (@kat-hawke).

[During this period Riize would begin dating one of her fellow Vultures. The two of them would spend long nights getting high and listening to vinyl records. While their life trajectories eventually moved in two different directions, she still values their time spent together greatly.]

Riize begins to make ties with the independent intelligence agency The Silent and a few of its high ranking members through their establishment at the Golden Keg. She begins to take up the place of one of their previous agents as an informant within the Dreadwing Vultures. This position does not last long, as the Vultures soon move to Ironforge and afterwards shutter completely.

Shortly after this event, Riize begins to study under Saelkath in the ways of the Void. Reaching into the darkness, Riize’s exploration is noticed by beings lurking in the Void and mentally affected irreparably. While initially curious, she finds herself drawn to understanding the Void and the denizens within with more fervor. She convinces Saelkath to reveal to her the rituals of the Cult of C’Thun and soon becomes a member herself.

[However, shortly after reemerging with her new focus on the Void, Riize is captured and held captive by a masked Light zealot in the Hinterlands. Detained and tortured for over two weeks, Riize was eventually able to escape into the woods. While too weak to fight, she swore revenge on the one who imprisoned her.]

Patch 7.3.5

While examining a job board in Stormwind Riize comes across a flier directing people towards Easterly. After communicating with The Silent, Riize chooses to enter the newly reforming House Draconis on an information-gathering mission. She meets the House’s heir, Strixena Draconis, and begins to establish a friendship with her. She completes her induction after kidnapping a priest of the Light out of Stormwind on Strixena’s behalf. She is initiated into the House shortly after. While initially believing she escaped Stormwind without notice, Riize ends up crossing the Warden Elyza Morrowbranch (@morrowbranch) who was more than capable of overpowering the newly minted Lady’s Hand. Beating aside, Riize chooses House Draconis over her previous bonds and affirms her loyalty to Strixena.

Riize’s involvement with House Draconis does not go unnoticed by those who knew her and soon she finds herself interrogated by Director Hawke. Remaining affable post-kidnapping, the two enter a tense truce. Working with Saelkath and her previous student Iceilla Nightbane (@iceillanightbane​), Riize partakes in off-the-record assistance on a small handful of missions on Unit Eight’s log.

During a heated argument between the two of them, Riize slices Strixena’s face and leaves her permanently scarred. Agreeing that her delving into the Void is making her lose control of herself, Riize is isolated within the barren White Room deep under Easterly’s catacombs. She is kept in solitary confinement for six weeks, with her only outside contact to the world being twice daily visits from Strixena to bring her food. While originally planned as an act of love, Riize begins to go mad. Her connection to the Void deepens in secret. When she is released she rekindles her vow of loyalty to Strixena and is rechristened as Riizen Draconis, the Phoenix of Easterly.

While working as a founding member of House Draconis’s intelligence branch, the Lady’s Hand, Riize meets the Arbiter of Dead Sun Harbor Eilithe Duskbringer (@eilitheduskbringer). While working together during the opening of the House’s gunsmithing store in Stormwind (Dragon’s Breath Smithing) the two kaldorei would develop a lasting friendship. Fulfilling her duties to the House, Riize recruits Joskinar Soulshread (@joskinar) into the Lady’s Hand. Near that time she also meets Aurelia Voidsong (@smoke-and-stilettos), Headmistress of Sordasa Academy. The Academy would act as the research division of the House, providing a vast bevy of knowledge to those who would seek it. Riize, Jos, and Aurelia would soon form a polyamorous relationship.

Patch 8.0

Strixena and other key members of House Draconis are jailed by a mysterious figure. Riize is not targeted, though the time spent away from Strixena eats at her. She tries her best to maintain the organization in her stead but is slowly pushed further and further out of power by inter-House politics. She settles into running the House’s business ventures while awaiting her sister’s return.

During a Unit Eight expedition to Ahn’Qiraj with Saelkath and a mage in SI:7’s employ, Riize witnesses the full power of her teacher’s magic and is horrified. Barely able to push through the ritualist’s powerful psychic influence, Riize helps destroy the artifact they came to collect to free Saelkath from its hold. While the trio are able to return to Unit Eight’s headquarters safely, Saelkath’s mind is shattered and she loses all memory of Riize. Heartbroken, she leaves her teacher in the medbay and disappears into the night. Riize never sees her beloved teacher again.

Eventually Strixena reemerges before the House as a Death Knight, a specter of vengeance unleashed upon the world. House Draconis begins to act again, though with far less of Riize’s input. Not long after, Dragon’s Breath Smithing is shuttered. The intelligence branch that Riize helped Strixena found is scrapped as well, resulting in her joining Aurelia in Sordasa Academy.

Things grew more dire over the coming months. War loomed on the horizon and the temperament of her sister grew even more volatile. The final straw came in the one-two punch of the closing of Sordasa Academy and the ultimatum that re-entering the House’s inner circle would require letting go of her attachment to her partners. Riize, Aurelia, and Joskinar would all leave Easterly for the old Voidsong Manor in the dead of night. She never saw her sister again.

Patch 8.1

The War of the Thorns escalated further, far from Riize’s gaze. The Void’s hold on her grew ever deeper until the Burning of Teldrassil snapped her from her stupor. Journeying to Darkshore, Riize learned that her parents had evacuated to the presumably untouchable kaldorei capital only to be lost in the fire. Riize had not seen her family in decades and never got to say goodbye.

Patches 8.1.5 through 8.2.5

AKA the period I wasn’t playing WoW

Riize, Joskinar, and Aurelia married in private far from the world. The trio would spend the following year together in seclusion, enjoying relative peace together far from the world and the war raging around them. While it was peace at the cost of ignorance, it was a much needed reprieve from the pain that had preceded.

Patch 8.3 through Past and Present

The rise of N’Zoth and the emergence of Ny’alotha took an unseen toll upon the Void-Blessed Night Elf. Visions began to infiltrate her mind showing her memories of lives unlived and roads not taken. In time it became impossible to distinguish the visions from reality. The usually energetic kaldorei would soon spend hours of the day bedridden, barely able to navigate through the illusions that danced before her eyes.

Now

Riize re-enters a world that is unfamiliar during a time of uneasy peace. The public has turned its hatred upon the Void-aligned and allies have become few and far between. Familiar faces have disappeared, replaced by an endless stream of vitriol. Still, Riize searches for answers and closure to a life that has escaped her...