#he is my best friend. anyway we try to psychoanalyze me

[klanced]

“Keith is like a little purse dog to lesbians” where do these thoughts in your head come from? I’d give me heart, body and soul, to one day perhaps understand even a sliver of your operation.

there's just something about voltron specifically that gives me access to the sublime

[shoutosbaeby]

This is my first post ever and I’m pretty new on this so bear with me here 😭😭

I’m not exactly the biggest bnha fan but I’ve always really liked Shoto, Monoma and Hawks. Especially Shoto. But whenever I see fanfics or smau’s or one shots, (you name it), in my opinion he’s 99% of the time VERY mischaracterized.

Call me crazy (I am) but I kinda sorta psychoanalyzed his character and here are A FEW of my head canons :))

Feel free to disagree ofc and I mean absolutely no hate to anyone these are just my opinions !!

★ - He’s not morally good, per se, but morally complex. He’s a good person for sure but doesn’t exactly always do what is “heroic.” For example, if there was a battle going on and Shoto had to choose between saving 10 civilians or a loved one, (e.g Rei) he would definitely choose to save Rei.

★- He’s not as dense as people think he is. Shoto is usually portrayed as dense when it comes to girls flirting with him or sarcasm. But I don’t think he’s always like that. Especially because he’s quite sarcastic himself. I think over time he’d start understanding things like that a lot more. I also think he’s secretly really funny lmao. He’d have peak dark humor.

★- Sleep deprived but not exactly an insomniac. It’s canon that Shoto can sleep at anytime in any environment, but we all know he has PTSD. I feel like he’d have nightmares really often and would avoid sleeping because of that. It’s not that he can’t sleep, he just doesn’t want to.

★- The way he got over his trauma so quickly in anime was kind of unrealistic in my opinion. I feel like he’d only JUST processed some of it and hadn’t exactly gotten over it. It would definitely take more time than just a few months.

Okay so here are some cute/funny ones !!

★- DEFINITELY plays piano and guitar. I feel like he was forced to learn piano as a kid and learnt guitar and got better at it to be petty.

★- A lot of people headcanon that he’d be a Mitski fan but I think that’s more of a Deku thing. Shoto would be a Nirvana, Deftones and Radiohead kind of guy. Maybe he’d even listen to the neighborhood or Lana Del Rey. (Off topic but I DEEPLY believe that Bakugo listens to Ayesha Erotica religiously.)

★- LOVES to rile Bakugo up. Shoto just enjoys the way Bakugo gets mad lol. He definitely provokes the guy a lot when they’re hanging out. (They’re best friends, Bakugo is just in denial)

★- He’d either be straight or bi. (imo)

★- Has watched mean girls (Karen is his fav)

★- Shoto would read books by Osamu Dazai, Oscar Wilde, Charlotte Brönte, Kazuo Ishiguro, Haruki Murakami and is a deathnote fan.

★- He’s pretty cold, quiet and reserved but has a kind heart. But he’s also quite rude lol. Shoto is the type of person to say it how it is and be as blunt as anyone could be.

★- He loves cats and cats love him.

★- Unlike a lot of people say, I don’t think his texts would have good grammar and he wouldn’t send long texts. I feel like he’d try to keep his texts as short as possible because he just can’t be bothered. And I also think the only emojis he uses are “💀🖕😒”

★- Definitely doesn’t speak formally or properly. It’s canon that he’s really blunt and rude. Basically a quieter and more sarcastic version of Bakugo. Shoto is probably very rude but not always on purpose lol. (On purpose a lot of the time, though)

Anyway these are just some of my headcanons for Shoto ^3^

Please keep in mind this is just my opinion !!

[rebelrayne]

Hi there 🩷

What are we thinking about the likely reveal that Hamish and Melissa have shagged? Personally I’m pretty sure it has to be them. Because why else would he have been so pressed about her leaving? And the weird things he said?

Ngl I’m a bit nervous about this. I won’t give a fuck and snap him up as soon as I can anyway but still… I wanna hear your theory 👀

Hi Rae!!!

Settle in, babe. Just call me Marisol because I'm about to psychoanalyze this manchild that I am so fucking desperate for. I've got all the opinions under the cut lmfao and it's A LOT of opinions (and a really long headcanon)

Let me know what grade I get on my thesis paper

First let's go back to the scene of the crime: Season 6. Hamish tells us that he has dated someone seriously and it was a girl he'd met back in University. I suppose he does not specify that they were in college at the time that they dated, rather that was where they met. We'll still assume it couldn't have been long after that.

Why is that important? Well, Hamish admits that he's cheated in two different places: in Season 6 during the Judge and Jury challenge, and then once in Season 9 where he says to Finn: "Haven't we all?"

But this is actually contradicting the one of the two times this man has ever seemed human in a group setting: at breakfast when he admits that his girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend. He was upset, and he looked it. Sure, this could have been Ivy but most likely, it wasn't. It was the first girl and she ripped him apart. I think we all know that Ivy probably got fed up with him because he's kind of fragile and needs someone really patient, and Ivy needs someone very self-assured.

No, this other girl ruined him. Ripped his heart from his chest and stomped on it. The man accidentally admitted he was a virgin until almost 25! So either, this girl was using him to get to said best friend that she cheated on him with, or he did get sex from her out but only because she was tricking him. Not to mention, either way, he got his V card swiped out of pity, I'm sure.

What's this all mean? It means that Hamish is putting up a front. He's trying to make it seem like he's this big party dude, with tons of friends and game. He's rejecting girls left and right, they all want him and so yeah, of course he's cheating-everyone wants a piece of him, right?

Wrong. No one wants him. He's literally the wacky sidekick of the main male character in every romance movie. He's fucking Alan in the Hangover. This man has never cheated on anyone because he's the most insecure man he knows and has ever met. He's trying to make himself seem like he's something he isn't, trying to make others believe that he's just such a player and he doesn't catch feelings-he's too cool for that kind of thing.

Well, until he isn't. The issue with Hamish now is that he wants to keep this façade going. It worked for him in Season 6, didn't it? That's why he was invited back in the first place. He clings to the first girl he couples with, but the thing is, he's messy. He's never had this many girls actually show interest in him. Hell, the only date he had outside of Ivy since the S6 season stood him up.

This man is literally trying to be like his best friend. That guy gets all the girls, doesn't he? He has them chasing after him, pining for him and he's confident as hell about it. Hamish isn't being his true authentic self. He's pretending to be like his best friend, who stole his girlfriend, so that other people think he's cooler than he actually is.

Because let's be honest: Hamish is soooo uncool. Funny, sure, but cool? No.

So to answer the question you have: Did he have sex with Melissa?

No. My very first instinct was that Hamish didn't take a chance. He's been starting to have feelings and he's been too scared to let himself open up because look what happened last time he did? He's stuck because women don't normally pay him any attention but here he's got Natasha, Kat, Melissa and MC all chatting to him. He kind of likes Melissa and MC, too. He has a connection, but he's too scared to just say that.

Melissa leaving-that was a wakeup call because what if MC is next? What if he does what he's always done since his girlfriend fucked his best friend and he doesn't put himself out there? Will he be sad and lonely for the rest of his life?

The answer was yes, so that's why he opened up on the date. "I have a crush on you." because he does. It's going to take more to make him be okay with being vulnerable, he needs someone to be patient with him. He's had this front up for so long that he doesn't know how to take it down.

Not to mention that because Hamish never gets any girls, he's screaming it to everyone when he does. He hasn't been very shy about his affections in challenges, either. Remember Grace? He started to slip up that they'd hooked up. He can't keep a secret at all. Why would he keep it a secret if they had sex? MC would have been the first to know. Hamish might know every bit of tea in that Villa, but he is always talking to MC about it when he has any to spill because he does like her, and he does want to connect with her.

Plus look at his friends!!! He said he was only 15 minutes away from them and kept making wrong turns, yet he wasn't found in that dune for three hours? They weren't looking for him. This guy is essentially Tom 2.0 but in the way that he actually doesn't have friends that like him that much. He's trying to be something he isn't and that's kind of sad to me. I think we're going to continue to see more and more layers. He's way more complex than we thought he was.

TLDR: Hamish is a liar. He's uncool and never cheated but thinks he sounds cooler to everyone if he says he did because he has soooo many girls that want him. Melissa didn't fuck Hamish, he wouldn't be able to keep it quiet if he had.

[hazelnut-u-out]

What would your ideal Morty therapy appointment look like (assuming that he went alone)? 🤔

Going to try to answer this even though my brain feels like mush, lol.

So, there are quite a few things I'd like to see. Obviously, I wouldn't expect a single episode to actually tackle every aspect of what therapy would realistically look like for a character like Morty, but hey-- at this rate, every episode aside from 'Fear No Mort' that's attempted to psychoanalyze him hasn't done the best job, I fear... *cough cough*

Anyway, here are some of the things I'd like to see addressed in an actual therapy setting (importantly, not some other form of psychoanalysis, like the Fear Hole, Roy, etc.):

Autism/Pilot Disability

It bothers me every day that the writers never followed up on that throw-away line about Morty having a disability in the pilot. Obviously, I headcanon that he's autistic (I mean, surely that's half of the dynamic with Rick right there, lol). I personally think that Rick and Morty have some autistic traits that present to the opposing extremes. For example, I think Rick struggles with hypo-empathy and Morty with hyper-empathy. I think Rick excels in math where Morty excels in English/literature. I think Rick struggles to mask and Morty is high masking. Rick just doesn't people please to survive in the same way Morty has been socialized to. (Most of this is my interpretation of the characters, but there are scenes that back up my points, as I'm sure you've caught onto, haha.) I think it would be cool to see Morty open up about feeling ostracized from his peers, struggling to make friends his own age, struggling with feelings of being 'behind'/weird/awkward, and how all of that made him the perfect victim. This is probably the least likely of my wants to be addressed in a therapy setting. I think that if they confirm it, it'd be in a pretty lowkey way, similar to what they did with Rick. I think the cold open for 'Mort: Ragnarick' might've actually been an indication that Morty isn't neurotypical, but we knew that already. I actually sort of headcanon Goldenfold's class as a remedial math course because of how simple the math seems to be, though I'm sure it was initially just some math they threw in for the pilot.

2. Grooming...

This is a tough one to include. Morty has been with WAYYY too many older women throughout the course of the show, but Planetina in particular gives me the chills. I would love to see how that's impacted him, or maybe even how his abusive dynamic with Rick and his neglectful relationship with his parents pushed him into that vulnerable position even more.

3. Mommy Issues (or neglectful parenting in general)

This one is a good follow-up for the last one. Morty's dynamic with Beth in 'A Rickconvenient Mort' is something I literally get up in the middle of the night just to think about. It makes my chest ache. I think it's because I know exactly how it feels to be Morty in that situation. When your parents constantly downplay your own feelings, put you in dangerous/vulnerable situations with reckless abandon, and completely shut you out emotionally it can feel like they just want to ruin your life when they try to protect you. To be honest, the show's dynamic wouldn't exist without Beth's negligence. Morty has two moms and neither of them have really tried to protect him. Even Jerry failed him.

4. Crying.

Idk, just lots of it. He deserves to cry about whatever he wants and be validated.

5. Justifying Rick's Actions

I would LOVE to see Morty try to explain Rick's actions away to someone who actually cares if he's being abused. I could see Morty say something to a therapist, there be a negative reaction or uncomfortable silence, and him try to say: 'It's really for my own good, though, you see...'/'You just don't know Rick the way I do. I'm the only one who really gets him...'/'It would break Mom's heart...'/'He would never hurt me on purpose...' Then to have a professional get in there and really debunk that internalized manipulation? I would die (in a good way).

5. Trauma Responses

They've sort of been hinting at this for a bit, but I think the whole point of Rick's improvement-- at least, in Morty's case-- is 'too little too late.' Rick may be getting better, but how is Morty supposed to trust him? Especially when Rick has been 'nice' for the express purpose of hurting him before? Even in his everyday life, I'm sure he has those moments of anxiety/dread/odd behavior because of the shit he's been through.

There's more, but my brain is fried right now, so maybe I'll revisit this ask later. Anyway, this was fun to think about! Thanks for asking! <3

[zoobus]

What's your favourite entry on mangadex with a 6.xx score?

(Re: #Everything on mangadex with a 6.xx rating is either a powerful contender for best of the year or extremely niche fetish softcore)

Ugh, this is a hard one because I haven't been reading a lot lately and I lost a huge chunk of my saves after mangadex was killed off for some months. (Also because I don't actually finish anything I read, lots of my "favorites" are a first volume I loved so much I couldn't finish it. That's how my brain works. I haven't finished anything on this list.) Also best of the year *for the kind of story it's telling.

TW, a good chunk of these have sexual assault and/or skeevy sexual themes

Manga about girl with strong signs of BPD using sex to self-harm, I don't remember the name, sorry - Extremely pathetic girl, desperate to not get bullied ever again, thinks she can fool her peers into thinking she's one of them but nahhh, you see the looks the popular girls give each other - it's like cats watching a wet and whimpering mouse wearing cat ears bite the throat of other mice, looking over her shoulder for proof that this is worth it, that they think she's a cat too. Made me understand how self-harm sex works.

I Would Die for Your First Time - Okay, it's sitting at a 7.09 *now,* but when I read it like five years ago it at 6.18. Guy who looks like a stereotypical fat faceless hentai man marries so far out of his league, it causes him immense distress. Even though his super hot wife clearly loves him, he's unnerved by the fact that she's had so many partners before him, while he only had her. She swears that if she could go back in time, she would make him her first and oh wow is that literally the worst thing she could have said.

Because he does go back in time, and he does try to hold the assurances of his 30yo wife to her 15yo self who doesn't have a clue who he is, and he does find himself ruining the life (and the original timeline they shared) of the poor woman who made the mistake of loving him over and over and over again.

Tamarowa/Who Wants to Marry a Billionaire? - I both get and don't get the hate for this one, harem stuff seems to make people very mad. Anyway, Tamarowa is like if Danganronpa was about Who Wants to Marry A Billionaire, uncut HBO version. And if Danganronpa was good. Great example of horny and good story. Whenever some cornball suggests good writing and fetishistic, hand in pants writing are mutually exclusive, I think of Tamarowa. "I need you to psychoanalyze one of the contestants in my place. Go do ageplay with the milf and deduce the odds she's trying to murder me."

His Favorite Idol Moved Next Door - A fan has a crush on his idol. The idol has a merciless and cruel crush on him back. 6.02 because god forbid we cater to actual female sadists rather than masochists for once 🙄

The Villainess Wants To Punish The Sadistic Prince - I will probably get around to translating the final volume. One day. Please see first paragraph about loving things so much, I don't finish them.

By the way, it might be my pride speaking, but I wouldn't include the last two entries in the niche fetishcore category. That's more for like "my childhood friend is annoying! and also keeps getting splattered with smushed bug goo every chapter" or those collection of pics titled stuff like "The women in your life flirt with you while insulting your gf's small boobs"

[thefriendlyghost-exe]

imagine in mha there's this person with a quirk called "therapy" and they can psychoanalyze you and figure out why you are the way you are so all their interactions are like:

Tahara Kichirou was a criminal.

He knew mugging was a crime, he knew the runs he was making were in the less-than-legal territory, he knew everything would eventually catch up and he would get caught and put in jail.

He just hoped his family was well enough off to deal with it when he was gone, what with his wife bedridden and son Quirkless.

He growled at the thought. Society was so fucked up. The fact that his seventeen year old son couldn't get a job because he "wasn't qualified" because he didn't have a quirk was bullshit. Quirkless people could do their jobs just as well as people with Quirks, those pesky things didn't matter.

But apparently they did, to society at least. He could've been working a stable job, too, if he hadn't had a raccoon mutation stopping anyone from hiring him.

He waited in an alley, searching for more well-off people to rob. He was a criminal, but he wasn't a dick. He wasn't going to rob people who were struggling for money like him.

After a family of three in thread-bare coats passed, he spotted a woman in a sleek black dress strutting down the sidewalk, reeking of wealth and privilege. He had found his target.

But before he could move, a voice said, "Hello."

He whipped around, staggering back. He could feel the hair on his body standing up. "When did you get here?" He demanded.

The child— because that's what they were, maybe ten or eleven— ignored his question, simply tilting their head and looking at him. It was a small twitch, but Kichirou could feel himself being analyzed, picked apart, judged.

"I said—"

The kid interrupted him. "Were you not loved as a child?"

--

Shouta expected to see a crime in progress when he found the source of the sobbing, but it was not, in fact, a crime.

A man was crumpled on the ground, crying, as a child crouched next to him and murmured to his prone body, empathy wafting off of him in heady waves. Shouta watched as the kid said, "—Nothing was wrong with you. Some people are just assholes, and there's nothing we can do to change the past."

"I know, and I'm trying to break the cycle," The man cried, "I would never hurt my family, not like them. But I can't provide for them looking like this." He gestured down to himself, and Shouta noticed his very obvious racoon mutation.

"And my son— He's," The man hiccuped, tear-stained. "He's Quirkless. Do you know how much shit they have to go through, just for living? People are so mean, and I want to protect him, but I can't stop the world." His voice quieted, and when he spoke again, he sounded weary with a weight only Atlas could imagine. "How am I better than my father if I can't even protect my son?"

Shouta watched as the kid snapped their fingers. "Hey," They said softly. When they saw him look up, they said, "Do you love him?"

The man blinked, obviously confused. "Y-Yes, of course!"

"And do you support him?" They continued.

"Yes!"

"And will you try your best to be there for him whenever he needs you?"

"Yes," The man replied, suspicion edging his tone. "Why—"

"Then that's all you can do for him," The kid said. They sighed. "I've got a friend. He's Quirkless, and every step he's made since he was four has been hell. And I can't...do anything." They looked at their hands, inhaling softly. "I can't do anything that seems to matter, anyways. But he told me a little bit ago that me just being there for him has been more than he could ever ask for. He's... He's so incredibly good, even on his off days, and I want to protect him from everything that's ever hurt him...But I can't."

They patted the man's arm. "All we can do is be there for them, sir. And sometimes, it's enough." Then they paused. "Do try and get your family into therapy, though."

The man laughed, tears and snot marring his face, and he affirmed the order with a nod of his head.

The kid pulled out a notebook, scribbling for a little bit before ripping the paper off and handing it to him. "And these are places that will help you get out of the hole you're in. You won't have to do this anymore."

The man stared at him, and began crying in earnest. "You're— You," He sobbed.

The kid murmured reassuring words to him until he calmed down again, and the man sniffled. "You're a good kid," He said. "Thanks."

The kid smiled softly, watching him leave. "I'm just glad I was here," They replied softly, before standing up and brushing off their pants.

Shouta's eyes flashed red, and the kid stopped, turning around.

At first, neither spoke, but then the kid inhaled sharply, threw out a, "Mommy issues!" And bolted down the alley. Shouta swore and chased after.

[hel-phoenyx]

"Why didn't you let him know you can speak french now ?"

Amelia's question made me laugh. Why indeed didn't I say anything, why do I keep my mouth shut on my whole language ability, especially in front of Thibault.

It's band practice. Today I asked them if they knew any good french rock bands I can practice on, and the subject of my little joke came on the table. Well, it would be more accurate to say Ryo brought it on a table with the subtility of three raging elephants.

"I didn't even know HE didn't know before Louna told me, man, he ranted. What's the point ? Anyone can break the mystery in your place, yaknow ?"

Senri stayed silent on the matter, as usual, but I could feel his own questions. Because he knew I didn't only hid my proficience in french to my lost and found best friend. I actively lied to him when he asked me which laguages I was speaking.

Right in front of Louna. My very much french girlfriend of four years. I'm surprised Thibault didn't make the link, and it does make me feel a little guilty. But I had my reasons for this. That are not only for the sake of jokes.

"Heh, you guys know Thibault, he is astonishingly oblivious when it comes to those kind of subjects. I just didn't see the point in warning him."

Senri frowned, but one look from me was enough to keep him silent. He never was keen in going too deep in my business, anyway. I try to keep him out of most of it. My depression is already too much of an info.

He still kept his accusatory look tho, and that made me shrug.

"Okay, I admit, I had a hidden motive. For my defense, I think you never see how emotionnaly constipated Thibault is when it comes to me."

"Ya kidding, mate ? Louna is complaining to hell and back about how he's dying of gayness over you, said Amelia with an incredulous tone. How can you not see that ?"

"I see it well, trust me. Mostly because he doesn't know I speak French."

My laugh tinted with a little bit of sadness.

"Ever since we found each other again, he's going all-tsundere. I know he's head over heels for me in his very own way, yes, that much is obvious. But he never told me."

"Shit, man, grunted Ryo, I didn't think it was that bad."

"Says the man who almost punched Taichi when he brought you flowers," said Senri with a little smile.

"FUCK OFF ! That was ONE time !"

Aaaaaand I think the second time punch will be going right in the head of my second best friend if I don't stop him. Luckily, these days, Ryo barks more than he bites, and he just sat down a bit further, threatening our bassist with his drumsticks. Very menacing, as I know for a fact he's physically the weakest of us four, counting our paraplegic Amelia. And Senri is probably the strongest.

"Well, back to the matter at hand, sighed Amelia. He really didn't tell you shit?"

"You ever saw that grouchy leprechaun talking about someone in a positive way ? He's trapped in his own barriers, and I don't even know what made him that closed-off."

I laid back into my chair, letting go of my guitar. Practice would come later, right now I am under the feeling this is turning more and more into a therapy session.

Not my favorite thing ever to get psychoanalyzed by my band members, but I let the conversation flow, so now I have to assume the consequences. My mistake.

"No, the only think I hear something positive about me is when he's talking in french. In french he tells me how hot he finds me, yes, but also that he loves me and he missed me and he's happy we found each other again. That's difficult enough to get him to open up. I'm not gonna have him let go of that outlet, am I?"

"Fair. But yaknow, said Amelia, he doesn't need an outlet, he needs therapy."

"Make him realise that and we're good to go. I'm trying to since the beginning of the school year, but he doesn't even realise how fucked up that is. And honestly I shouldn't be the one giving him lessons."

Everyone in that room had a sudden cough. Good, so we're on the same page.

Amelia rolled her wheelchair to my place, still looking at me. I could see worry in her eyes. I didn't quite get why.

"Well, I can get Thibault's whole problem. But you ? That must not be very cool to hear a person you like a lot only talking to you in a negative way. You holding out good?"

"Oh, I know what he's thinking and that's enough. And it's not like he's berating me constantly. He justs reacts violently to affection and compliments. Next to that, we're having good times, really. That complicity back then at Saint-Cyr is still there, and not buried very deep. He just can't imagine people would love him... Back."

Once again, I shrugged. My eyes were fixiated on the ceiling, lost in thoughts, as much as I didn't want to meet my friends' looks.

I didn't want them to know what I really felt about Thibault's closedness.

I didn't really want them to see how much it ached seeing him not being able to express what he wanted. Not even getting a positive word out of the mouth of a man that looked at me like I was an unexpected treasure of the most precious sort.

I didn't really want them to feel the shame I was under for just accepting scraps of affection he wasn't even aware giving me.

"Yet... Sometimes it feels nice being reminded he doesn't hate me."

They didn't say anything.

They didn't have to.

[chaotic-on-main]

ok i didnt know the best way to do this so here you go lol. ty for even doing this ;-; i probably gave more than you needed aha.

personal color scheme:

i'm a hoe for purple pastel colors uwu

specific aesthetic:

guess a minimalist pastel soft aesthetic? ngl i had to look up different types of aesthetics lmaoooo im so out of touch with reality

general outlook on life:

tbh i'm pretty nihilistic and am a heavy believer of the heat death of the universe, but that's why we should appreciate what little time we do have :)

favorite shows/animes/books/manga:

aot (obvs), bungo stray dogs, code geass, witcher, i like video games too (world of warcraft, fallout 4, skyrim)

your favorite characters from said things above (and if you're able to, explain what draws them to you):

aot: levi (because i thirst but also because he's such a complex character that's gone through so much shit yet still turns out the way he is and i love him sm i a;ldk fj;laksjfd)

bungo stray dogs: dazai (similar reasons to levi although he's much more morally gray), chuuya (because he's pretty <3 also similar to levi and is badass)

code geass: lelouch (bc jun fukuyama is a god in the va world)

witcher: geralt (because I thirst, plus i love reluctant dad figures)

general likes:

levi, coffee, gaming, writing, cats, being stoned

general dislikes:

zeke jaeger (baka vibes), superficial shit, most people, politics, macho man vibes, most republicans (lol)

hobbies:

writing, gif making, playing piano, gaming

astrological sign and or MBTI:

i've taken the MBTI a million times, with the most recent rendition as ISTJ-T, i'm also a gemini :)

the season, time of day, type of land or body of water, and weather you associate yourself with:

fall, sunset, oceans, idk for weather type lol

niche interests:

space, psychoanalyzing traumatized characters :], was into greek mythology for a bit

things specific to you and your life that you want represented visually:

gaming-related stuff, coffee, i try to channel mental health positivity vibes but idk how that would be represented lmaoo

5 words or phrases that you feel explains who you are as a person:

chaotic (adhd-vibes), somehow able to read people's energy's/moods to an annoying amount, the type thats shy as fuck until i get to know you, always thirsting, partner also just said im stubborn as fuck lol

ALSO I like to do this thing where I add in something incredibly specific to you, like the most specific thing you can think about:

uhhhhh i guess add in something semi-colon related? tmi but mental health recovery is a huge part of my life so i have like 3-4 tattoos that are semi-colon themed (maybe you can help me generate another tattoo idea lmao)

If I feel like I need a little more, please be okay with me DMing you! I want to make sure everything is perfect:

you can also dm me anyway, i'm trying to make friends and its hard

I GOTCHU.

I had so much fun making this one laksjdf the colors are so damn pretty!! I hope you like it! Normally they're a little more layered and messy but I went for a more simple, minimalist look. Also the background was too pretty, it had to show.

@humanitys-strongest-bamf

☆ As always, if y'all are curious in what I’m doing with my spare time, you can go here! My game is open!! ☆

[the1975attheirverybest]

I hate that swifties just turned against Joe without any actual evidence and when the pictures of him looking rough came out, they were celebrating and going after his looks (like they are doing with Matty) and it made me want to punch them (not literally) and I'm not part of the fandom at all, it simply was trending on twitter and checked what happened. And now recently they've been putting Matty against Joe and while the majority is hyping Joe up again simply because they hate Matty, the ones who prefer Matty instead also get on my nerves because they are like "he's problematic but at least he displays affection publicly" and the reason why that upsets me so much is because everyone likes really shy introverts when they need someone they can trust but then suddenly we're "cold" and "too reserved" and "should change" the minute we're no longer useful and seeing those tweets just makes me so fucking sad because I am so quiet in public and I really don't do the whole PDA thing but my heart is feeling with love for the people I'm close with and I sympathize with how Joe must be feeling. There was a video going around of Joe at her show and you can see the heart eyes filled with emotion but you can also see that he's so shy and anxious about being in public.

And people being like "she deserves more" has broken my heart. it just triggered something in me. Everyone who's just a little bit like Joe knows the feeling of dating an extrovert or simply someone with a lot of friends and trying so hard to overcome our limitations and still seeing our efforts being ignored. And then people acting like Taylor did him a huge favor for dating him because in their heads "no way she'd be truly happy with someone like that"... We're not all bad, we've got our flaws but we deserve love too and we've got a lot of love to give... (sorry this is more like a personal rant)

As the self-appointed queen of introverts, I completely agree with you. In fact, now you're making me wonder if that's the reason I like joe? haha. I had never psychoanalyzed my soft spot for him, but, when you mentioned the videos of Joe standing in the audience and watching Taylor, you reminded me of a moment from my teens when we were at some big family party and...well, I get anxious asking the Barista for a straw at starbucks, I'm not a dancer. So, I was just kind of in the corner, clapping. much like Joe is in that clip, still having a good time in my own lil way, and my mom came up to me and gave me this whole ass speech about how I don't know how to have fun, lol.

BUT, whatever the swifties or Joe haters say, the facts speak for themselves. Fact: This has been Taylor's longest ever relationship. Fact: she literally wrote him a song that says "people think loves for show but i would die for you in secret." Is that not the best response to these idiots? Fact: she said she'd give him a child if he wanted. Does that sound like someone who isn't truly happy? Fact: one of her songs promises to marry him with paper rings even though she "likes shiny things." If the literary scholars who analyze every single word she writes and its meanings are ignoring these facts, it's because they're looking for someone to hate. Doesn't matter. Taylor and Joe know the love that they shared.

In fact, I'm feeling kind of the opposite haha. people are hating on joe's introverted nature now that he's left Taylor, but im enjoying Matty's weird nervousness around her friends now that he's enter her space. Sure he's sweet when he dances and wears her merch, but what's more important is that he's unsure and out of his element but trying his best anyway. which is how I feel in all social situations hahahaha.

everyone is just trying to get through this miserable life giving love and hoping to receive it in return. why would we make things extra hard on each other by comparing partners or deciding what Taylor should value or whatever? its dumb and pointless and breeds misery.

[marirph-arch]

FROM THE DISCORD SERVER SENTENCE STARTERS.   ♡ *

taken straight from me and my friends’ personal discord server!    change any pronouns to your own liking!    ^____^    warning for violence,  death,  murder,  sexual themes,  nsfw themes,  and drug mentions.

did you just recite that from memory?

the white woman isn’t included.

can you lie?

you must feel so clever.

with the amount of times they say nobody in this game,  you could make a mitski song out of it.

sugar daddy left me a present.

you didn’t get any of that,  huh?

i’m trying my best.

i am making you the therapy friend.

my family knows how to handle the mary jane.

how am i supposed to act normal in public?

did someone say the door to darkness?

i gotta get out more.

you never heard [name] speak?

why do you want the stupid fucking rat so bad?!

his marriage failed.

that was his own fault.

it’s driving me insane.

i literally said this is some godzilla shit!

can you not expose my stupidity?

fuck off, i’m listening to the [name] soundtrack.

this is the most homophobic outcome!

let me explain.

i know there’s a tech person in here and i hope you are looking down on me in shame.

of course it’s fucking [name.]

can you die?

i’m joining even if you guys don’t want me.

kill yourself!  i mean that one hundred percent!  a thousand percent!

i think we got the right energy.

you are my boyfriend now.

that’s probably not a good idea.

italians were so right.

don’t say those words ever again.

that implies you’ve heard him moan before?

you live another day because of my good graces.

so that was a fucking lie.

why am i the scapegoat?

die then.

it’s just like eminem said.

i like beating people to death more.

i’m psychoanalyzing you.

he gives me hives.

the both of you make me sick.

l plus ratio plus you’re gay.

that’s why you gotta become the bitches you wanna see in the world.

you want me to leave that badly?

let me get undressed.

would be a thrill for [name] considering how much they like feet.

this is the most action the french have had in decades.

how do you fold that easily?

if it’s so good, why’s it called a blowjob, not a suckjob?

he could fix me.  i could bottom for him.

i can’t let him go.

let me mansplain.

where does america go to die?

tell me where the fuck [location] is on the map.

he’s gonna sleep with my mom.

you are evil and you need to be destroyed.

i’ll pay you to stop calling him babygirl.

i am never going to mentally recover from this.

i think they’re just jealous.

fuck 12, but like, fuck 12 am i right?

she’s still ugly, though.

men with glasses make my knees tremble.

hey, shitheads!

congratulations on your drip!  you’re dripping sweat!

you don’t even know how to swim.

damn, that sucks.  anyways, i’m going to meet up with your wife.

shut up!  get out of my head!

i have bad news for you.

that’s tough talk from someone who needs floaties to go into water.

can you stop bringing up french people?

i’m a communist.

of course you have blue hair and pronouns.

stop disrespecting my workers.  you’re getting blood on my floor.

he may not be his father but he could be the father to mine.

my grandma’s dead.

have you heard?

aw, you do care!

can [name] hurry their naked little ass up?

he has a minecraft torch in hand.

dominos is so good.  i wish italians were real.

my fists are my power.

i’m so good at spelling.

are you actually serious?

when have i ever ghosted you?

i wasn’t thinking about him.

mm.  i love asmr.

get your little ass in the bath.

you’ll never believe who i just killed.

look, he’s a vampire.  you love that shit.

this is the worst high of my life.

don’t offer me your crumbs in an attempt to appease me.

i smell weed.

who is smoking outside my window?

please, god.  just give me one good day.

i hope i am not just a mom friend to you, but also a milf.

i thought heterochromia was just another word for straight people.

is the [name] fucker going to talk to me about bad people?

that’s what i thought.

i got fucking news for you!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wedding crashing, please: Trey stealing the bride (because maybe he was a dense idiot before, idk), with the help of Rook and Tweels.

***Mild spoilers for Trey’s Lab Coat personal stories, and the Ghost Marriage and Wish Upon a Star events!***

“I object to this wedding...!”

Pre-Wedding Jitters

Trey has never understood all the “love” stuff that people gush about, or the heights that it drives them to. You can’t exactly add “love” as an ingredient in cake, and isn’t “love” the whole reason why a ghost bride slapped him? Needless to say, he’s not well-versed in the ways of romance.

As his childhood friend, you’ve always known him to be like this: level-headed and practical. You really look up to him a a big brother figure, someone always keeping you straight-laced and out of trouble.

He was the one that wiped your tears when you scraped your knee while playing, the one that made mud cakes with you after a heavy rainfall, the one you split your profits with after running a lemonade stand for the afternoon. Your best friend, always by your side.

Even when Trey went off to NRC, he’d always keep in touch and make time to visit you on his breaks, a few pastries in hand and a smile to greet you with. You’d lounge under blue skies for hours on end, sharing stories in a field of clovers.

Oftentimes, your stories involve your long term S/O, or how serious your relationship is getting. “I think he might propose soon,” you confide in Trey. He’d respond jokingly with, “That so? Then I’d recommend the Clover bakery to do your wedding cake.”

He graduates and moves back to the Rose Kingdom, taking on a more active position at his family’s business--and suddenly, you’re seeing each other almost all the time again. Your stories become all the more real to him, and you bring your S/O to the bakery a few times.

“This is Trey, my childhood friend. My best friend, in fact! Trey, this is my fiancé.”

“Your... fiancé? When was this? This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“Oh, you know... Things happened,” you respond with a dreamy blush. “We’re actually here today to order our wedding cake. You always suggested using the Clover bakery for it, right?”

“Right...” (Trey takes your order, but he isn’t smiling about it.)

Later on, he receives an invitation in the mail--an invitation to your wedding. That gnawing sense of unease continues to grow and eat away at him with each passing day.

Finally, Trey can’t take it and ends up venting his frustrations to one of his old classmates and Science Club companion, Rook, over the phone. “I don’t get what’s wrong with me. I should be happy for my friend. Instead, I feel like I just ate Lilia’s... ‘cooking’. It’s strange.”

“Ah, mon amie... It is not strange at all. What you are experiencing is nothing short of love!”

“... Beg pardon?”

Rook talks Trey’s ear off long into the night, pointing out the various little things Trey had never noticed before--how his heart races when he’s with you, how he feels terrible knowing he has grown distant from you, all the time spent together that he cherishes. By the time Rook is done psychoanalyzing him, it’s 5 am, and Trey’s in a daze.

“Okay, okay, you... you’re probably right, but... what good does knowing that do for me now? I’ve realized too late, Rook. The wedding date is already set.”

Trey can’t see the wide smile that unfurls on Rook’s face over the phone. The huntsman only asks for the date and time of the wedding, and for Trey to show up a few hours earlier than its start. “I shall be your marraine fée, Trey-kun!” Rook reassures his friend. “And you, my Cendrillon...! Mark my words, I will see to it that you arrive at the ball at your finest.”

The Crashing

It’s the day of the wedding, and Trey shows up early just as Rook told him to. He’s not sure what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect to be accosted by Jade and Floyd. Together, the tweels drag him to a spa and dump him into a bath, where Trey is scrubbed and polished until his skin glows.

His flour-dusted apron is exchanged for a beautiful suit and tie, and his makeup is expertly painted on by Rook himself. As the huntsman goes about his work, the twins stand by, snickering to one another as they watch Trey twist in confusion.

“Uh, what’s all of this for?” Trey asks, but Rook tuts and tells him to keep still, or else the eyeliner will apply crooked.

“You must look your best for the wedding crashing, non?”

“Wedding crashing?! Isn’t that a little too extreme of a solution--” He ends up having a coughing fit, for Rook hits his face with a powder puff. “And why are Jade and Floyd here too?!”

“We heard from Umineko-kun that he needed some help busting a party~ Plus, it just seemed like fun!”

“Fufufu... Yes, just as Floyd said, it seemed like fun. That, and... It pains me to see you in such a sorry state, Trey-san. Please, do allow me and my brother to play a role in your happily ever after.”

To Trey’s left is a huntsman in love with the idea of love, and to his right are murderous eels only there to amuse themselves. His stomach lurches, knowing that nothing good can be in store with this formula.

They finish a little late because of their bickering. It’s a race against the clock--the vows have begun, and there’s only so much time left to stop them from being sealed.

When security guards try to stop them from entering late, things get... more aggressive that Trey would have liked. No one dies, but it’s safe to say plenty of guards get squeezed knocked out.

The group bursts into the ceremony with a BAM! (thanks to the twins kicking down the door), drawing all heads to them. Trey mumbles an apology, but he’s cut off by Rook loudly introducing him.

“May I present... Trey Clover.” The huntsman pushes Trey forward, making him stumble towards you.

Your fiancé makes a move to protest, but Jade and Floyd are quick to restrain them (”to keep them from interrupting the ‘romantic’ moment”). Rook stuffs an apple in their mouth to make them quiet.

You stare up at Trey in shock. This was not how you had been hoping to see your best friend on your wedding day.

The Aftermath

“Er... here,” Trey mutters, offering a cherry red food processor to you. “You’re meant to give gifts at a wedding, so I brought you this--even though I’m not here as a guest. This wasn’t exactly my idea, but I got dragged into it anyway.”

You awkwardly take the food processor and ask why he’s here, doing all of this.

He scratches the back of his head and averts his eyes. “... To be honest, I didn’t understand ‘love’ for a long time. I probably still don’t understand it entirely. But if there’s one thing that I do know, it’s that ‘love’ can make even level-headed people do and say crazy things. That’s why I’m here now, crashing this wedding.”

A glance to Rook (giving him two double thumbs up, mouthing, “beauté!”) and the tweels (who seem to be having a little too much fun restraining your groom). Then back to you.

“Oh, and sorry about them. They got... too enthusiastic.”

He shuffles his feet. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I love you. Your eyes could be grapes, and your veil could be a dish rag, but I’d still love you. That’s what I’m feeling--I was just too dense to realize it before.”

“So... I know this is really late, but...”

Suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted into a princess-carry. You yelp, and instinctively cling onto Trey for support.

“Sorry, but I’m stealing the bride,” Trey announces to the stunned hall of wedding guests. Gone is his usual smile, replaced instead with a cocky smirk.

“Marvelous!” Rook nearly sheds a tear at the beautiful display.

Floyd lets out a whoop of support. “Ahahah! Umigame-kun’s getting with the program now~” Beside him, Jade chuckles. “My, what a surprising turn of events. We should not have underestimated Trey-san.” (He drives the apple Rook had shoved into the groom’s mouth in even harder, smiling pleasantly as he does so.)

Thanks to that, the groom passes out, which sends the guests into a panic. Some start to move to block the door, others shout for security (which does nothing, since the twins already took them out).

Jade, Rook, and Floyd collectively work to clear the way for Trey (... sometimes having to rough up particularly feisty guests).

And so, the wedding closes with Trey marching out with you in his arms... and a trail of unconscious bodies in his wake.

[ssahotchhner]

like real people do

PART TWO

hi! this is my first criminal minds fic, i haven’t watched the show all the way through in several years and while doing a rewatch discovered that i HAD to write hotch. this will be two parts, here’s the first! let me know your thoughts please, i love talking to my readers (:

words: 5837

pairing: hotch x reader

warnings: usual criminal minds nastiness, rape mention, death, curse words

Everyone knew that SSA Aaron Hotchner has been emotionally unavailable since his divorce, so everyone was that much more surprised when he kissed you at the bar in front of all your colleagues at the BAU. You wouldn’t lie, you had had a crush on Aaron for years now, but you had imagined your hypothetical romance much differently. As it was, Aaron had immediately left the bar in a flurry of embarrassment, murmuring a hurried apology on his way out leaving you to the unabashed teasing of your coworkers that you had pretended to brush off. Now, days later, Aaron still refused to so much as look at you.

“Y/N,” Morgan rolled his chair over to your desk, “I’m dying to know, is Hotch a good kisser?”

You sigh, “Fuck off, Derek.”

“Leave the poor girl alone, Derek,” Rossi says as he passes by, “Don’t you think it’s bad enough Hotch is giving her the silent treatment now?”

You tried to hide the way the tears pricked the back of your eyes at his comment, but you were surrounded by FBI profilers.

Morgan lowered his voice and reach out his hand to touch your arm, “Hey, babygirl, I’m sorry, I was just teasing, maybe you should try talking to Hotch--”

“Talking to me about what?” Aaron had been so quiet walking up on you and your head had been low, so focused on not crying that you hadn’t heard him.

“Nothing.” You say quickly, and as expected he avoids making eye contact, “Do you need something, sir?” You don’t miss the way he flinches at the formality. Good.

“We have a new case.” He says simply and walks away.

Morgan let out a low whistle, “You really hit him with the ‘sir.’” You started to get up from your desk, but Morgan put a hand on your arm again, “Seriously, Y/N, I’m sorry. If you need to talk I’m here.”

You sighed and stood up again, forcing a smile, “There’s nothing to talk about Derek, I’m fine. Now come on.”

“We have a serial rapist in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.” JJ starts immediately as everyone files in. You feel Morgan’s gaze on you the entire time and try not to get frustrated. He’s been like a brother to you since you joined the BAU a few years ago and you know this overprotectiveness was just him being a good friend, but it was bound to drive you nuts. “Victims are all white women ranging from their late teens to early twenties at a local university.”

“Why are we being called in for a rapist on a college campus?” Reid asks, “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but we all know the statistics. There are dozens of serial rapists on college campuses.”

“Because this one is torturing them while he rapes them and leaves them notes leading up to the attacks.” Hotch says as Penelope begins to pull up pictures on the screen of these women. “Slut, whore, bitch, cunt. All carved on their chests.” You do your best to hide the nausea that rises in you as you look at the pictures. Do your job. You remind yourself.

“What do the notes say?” Emily asks.

“They seem like thinly veiled threats,” Reid begins, “They sound romantic at first glance, but if you read closely you can see the context.” 

“He breaks into their dorms when they’re at class or at parties and waits for them to come home and then he holds them at knifepoint so they won’t scream.” Penelope says, trying not to let her voice shake.

“Risky to do in a dorm building and no one’s seen him?” Morgan says.

Rossi ponders this, “That means he must blend in, someone no one would think twice about being inside. A student, an RA, or a university official.”

“University officials don’t normally enter student dorms unless there’s an issue, they’d be more likely to stand out and students would talk about them showing up.” Hotch muses.

“Y/N, you’re awful quiet today,” Emily nudges your elbow, “What do you think?”

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, but Aaron’s. Still looking at his manila folder as if Emily hadn’t addressed you. As if you didn’t exist. You clear your throat, “I think the RA or student theory makes sense. We should probably interview the RA of the first victim, assuming he’s a man. It would make sense to me that he would start with one of his own students and then begin to branch out. Maybe he thought he could stop, get that release he needed after just one, but the need only grew stronger.”

“Wheels up in thirty, we’ll discuss more on the plane.” Hotch says and stands, walking out of the room without another glance.

“Did something happen last night at the bar?” Emily murmurs, the only member of the team who didn’t make it out the night before, “Hotch is acting really weird around you.”

Derek snickers on the other side of you and you elbow him, “That’s it, I’m going to talk to him.”

Reid winces, “Good luck.”

“It’ll be fine, kid.” Rossi says and squeezes your shoulder as you pass.

You take a long breath before you finally build the courage to walk into Aaron’s office where he’s packing his briefcase. “Sir, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Can it wait until we’re on the plane, agent?”

Agent. You roll your eyes toward the ceiling, “No, sir, it can’t.” You can’t hide the bite in your words this time. He finally looks at you, really looks at you. You wonder what he sees.

“Close the door.” He says quietly and then sits behind his desk.

You walk slowly to the seat in front of his desk. This time, he watches you. “This is the first time you’ve looked at me all day.”

“I wasn’t aware you were analyzing me.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t been analyzing me all day?”

“Agent, what is this about? We have a plane to catch.”

You stare at him for a few moments longer, “Fine,” You stand, “If you want to pretend nothing happened, I’ll do the same. But if you could at least stop ignoring me, that would be great.”

“Agent--”

“And use my goddamn name, for Christ’s sake.”

He stares at you and you know he hates your emotional outburst and that in turn makes you hate yourself. “Then you stop calling me ‘sir.’” He says quietly.

Your eyes soften for just a moment and then you storm back out of his office nearly plowing over Rossi as you leave. Rossi walks into Aaron’s office to see him rubbing his forehead, “Well that doesn’t look like it went well.”

“I screwed up, Rossi.” 

“Oh, come on Hotch, it was just one kiss. It didn’t mean anything--”

“It did mean something. To me. Maybe not to her.”

Rossi shakes his head, “Then why are you giving her the cold shoulder?”

Hotch sighs, “Because we work together, because she doesn’t feel the same, because she’s the first woman I’ve kissed since Haley. Pick a reason.” Rossi looks like he’s going to interject, but Hotch stands, “We don’t have time for this, Rossi, let’s go.”

Rossi sighs as he watches Aaron walk out of his office and follows after.

***

You’re quiet most of the plane ride, conscious of the looks everyone is giving you as you read the information in the manila folder over and over, trying to be good at your job instead of thinking about your boss.

“When we get off the plane, JJ and Prentiss, you go talk to the victims. Rossi and I will touch base with the police. Morgan, Reid, Y/N, you go talk to anyone you can find at the dorms, see if anyone’s seen anyone suspicious.” You make it a point not to react, but everyone else reacts anyway, watching you carefully. Hotch almost always assigns himself with you. 

“If you guys don’t stop psychoanalyzing me I will eject myself from this plane.” 

Everyone looks away except Aaron and when you meet his eyes, he’s smirking. Those smiles are so rare and you can’t deny how it satisfies you to know you were the reason he did so. You quickly look back down at your work, careful not to reveal anything you’re feeling.

***

“Do you have feelings for Hotch?” Reid asks without preamble when you’re in the car with Derek.

“Spencer!” You exclaim in outrage. Derek just laughs from the driver’s seat.

“What? You both wouldn’t be being so weird about one kiss if it wasn’t something more.”

“Okay, Romeo, remember that she’s armed.” Derek cautioned.

“He’s my boss, Reid. It’s weird because he’s my boss.”

“Well, sure, by definition Hotch is our superior but we all know--” Reid cut himself off when he saw the look Derek was giving him in the rearview mirror, “Yeah, you’re right, it’s weird.” He said quickly.

You sigh and turn to the window and ignore Derek and Spencer the rest of the ride.

***

“So you mean to tell me that ten women have come forward about being raped in their dorms and you told them to consider themselves lucky they weren’t murdered and sent them home without doing a rape kit?” Aaron’s furious. Furious with himself for the previous night and he’s more than happy to take out that anger on the local Milwaukee police department.

“Look, man, we get a lot of he said she said in here, we don’t have the time or the man power to follow up on every one.”

Just then his phone rings. It’s you. He wishes he could ignore the pang that goes through him just from reading your name. “Hotch.” He answers.

“Sir-- I mean, Aaron.” You correct yourself quickly, and then realize you should have called him Hotch, but it’s too late. “They’ve found a body.”

He frowns, “A body? That doesn’t fit his MO.”

You swallow, “Yeah, well, everything else does. He seems to have gotten a little carried away with the carving this time.”

“We’ll be right there.”

You hang up your phone and then turn back to Reid and Morgan who are looking over the crime scene. You sit with Victoria’s, the victim’s, distraught roommate and try to calm her and maybe get some actual information out of her. You don’t hear or see Aaron walk in until he’s already next to you, “Did you get anything from her?”

His closeness makes it hard to focus, “Just regular roommate stuff, she might be more useful once she calms down. I asked if her roommate had a boyfriend or anything like that and she said she was quiet, kept to herself. Boys were out of the question.”

“He’s escalated. Why?”

You shrug, “Could be because we’re here, that might have upset him and he lost control. But it could have been an accident, roommate says Victoria had a heart condition. The stress of the situation might have killed her.”

Hotch nods, “Good work.”

He was trying to be normal, you could tell. And he was trying so hard. “Thank you.” You said softly and then you excused yourself. Everything about him set you on edge and over and over the moment he kissed you plays in your head.

***

You’re both laughing to near snorting while sitting at the bar and Aaron can’t stop watching you, “You have an incredible laugh, you know?” He says softly when you’ve both settled down. “Sometimes when I think this job isn’t worth it, I’ll hear your laugh outside my office and just that sound…” He realizes what he’s saying suddenly and turns his head away from you smiling at his drink now.

“You make it worth it for me too.” You say and his eyes are back on you, “You so rarely ever smile, but when you smile at me… It makes it all worth it. The long hours, the horrible cases… all of it.”

When you look back at him he’s suddenly serious again. You can see his eyes calculating as he searches your face and you realize with a bit of shock that he’s trying to see if you’re lying. When his eyes finally settle back on yours, he gently reaches up, almost without thinking about it and curls a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

And then in the next second, his hand still on your face, his mouth is on yours.You forget that there’s anyone else in the world for those few seconds that he kisses you. Until everyone on the team starts jeering and Aaron pulls away like he’s seen a ghost.

“Aaron?” You say, frowning as he jumps up from his seat, not looking at you and gathering his things.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he murmurs and then runs out.

Derek’s laughing as he walks up to you, “Damn, princess. You broke Hotch! I gotta say, you’re incredibly out of his league.” You glare at him. “What? You’re out of my league too.”

You smile at that and try to act like everything’s normal, but you’re sure Spencer notices that you drink more and laugh a little too loudly.

***

You’re pulled back from the memory as JJ walks toward you, “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “Fine, just needed a second alone to think.”

She stops in front of you and rests her hand on your arm, lightly squeezing, “You can talk to me, you know, about men. Even Hotch.”

You smile, “I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’m fine, really. It’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s a big deal if it starts interfering with the job, and I can see it on both of you,” She’s stern all of a sudden, “I know he’s our boss, but underneath that he’s just any other man, Y/N. Don’t let him fool you into thinking otherwise.”

“Guys,” Derek interrupts, sticking his head out into the hallway, “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

When you come back in the room, Spencer is crouched over the body, gloves on, examining the carvings in her body, “There’s hesitation in the cuts this time and you can tell they were done after she was dead. And if you look a little bit closer…”

“‘Sorry…’” You read the small script, astonished. “Remorse. It was an accident.” Your eyes dart back and forth as you lose yourself in your own thoughts while the rest of the team discusses, “I think we can deliver the profile.”

***

“We’re looking for a white male in his early to mid twenties.” Hotch starts, “He most likely is able to gain the women’s trust, maybe he’s a student RA or a student tech worker, but they let him in without a second thought.”

“I thought he breaks into the dorms and waits for them?” A cop asks.

“He does,” You say, “But the initial access is how he chooses his victims. He’s a loner, doesn’t have many friends, certainly no girlfriend. It’s possible that he asks these girls on dates when he first meets them, and when they refuse he feels entitled to them anyway which is why he comes back for the rape.”

“What about the murder?” Another cop asks.

“We believe the death of the last girl was an accident.” Reid responds, “She had a heart condition and the medical examiner has confirmed she died from sudden cardiac arrest. The unsub even seemed to show remorse when he defiled the body after, carving the word ‘sorry’ into her body.”

“The killing has most likely set him on edge. He’s remorseful, upset, overcome with immense guilt, but he blames the women. If they had just said yes to him, he wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t have died.” Derek continues, “You should be looking for someone who was soft spoken, but as the rapes started he became more assertive, maybe he had an altercation with a professor or supervisor.”

“You’ve probably interviewed him already,” You say, “He inserts himself into the investigation because he feels guilt and watching the investigation play out validates that he was right for doing what he did.” You sigh, “There’s one more thing. He didn’t intend to kill Victoria, but… He spent time with the body after she had passed. He mutilated her as well as continued his rape of her afterward. It’s possible that he enjoyed the kill and will kill the next time as well. So stay vigilant and… please tell the girls not to let any men in their dorms. Thank you.”

Aaron comes up to you, “Can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

You nod and follow him into a conference room and he closes the door behind you, “You’re really an incredible profiler, agent.”

Again with the ‘agent.’ “Thank you, sir.”

“I just wanted to assure you that I will remain nothing but professional around you from here on out.”

You tilted your head to the side and you knew the pain was evident on your face as you didn’t try to hide it, “I see.”

“You’re upset.”

You laugh, “Did you mean anything you said at the bar, Aaron, or were you just drunk?” You’re aware of how vulnerable you’re being in front of him now as you can hear the tears in your own voice.

You see him calculating what the best response is and this just infuriates you more, “Forget it, you’re just going to talk to me like some unsub, trying to best figure out what to say to calm me down.”

He shakes his head, “That’s not what I’m doing.”

You start to walk out and stop to stand next to him, “You just said yourself I’m an incredible profiler, so please don’t profile me and think I won’t notice.”

He closes his eyes as you continue walking out, “Y/N, wait.” Despite yourself, you do stop at the sound of your name. “I’m sorry, I-- I meant the things I said at the bar, I’m… But I’m your boss and I don’t want to make it difficult for you to do your job.”

You force a smile and look up at him, “Don’t worry, Hotch, won’t be a problem.”

And then you’re gone and he gets the feeling you won’t call him Aaron ever again.

***

Spencer walks in the entrance of the dorm you’ve been staking out, two coffees in hand. He hands one to you wordlessly, “Have you gotten any sleep?”

“Obviously not.” You sigh and happily guzzle the coffee, “Thanks.”

“Hotch is upset.”

“About what?” You murmur, half paying attention, half going over the case again on the papers in front of you.

“About you, obviously.”

You don’t look up, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. How do you even know Hotch is upset? He always looks like he’s pissed at something.”

“Because I’m a profiler. Everyone knows he’s off, no one will say to his face that it’s because of you.”

You sigh and look up at him, “Spencer, we’re fine, okay? We’re adults.” He’s quiet, but he won’t stop staring at you, “What?”

“I know that I’m… not the most perceptive when it comes to emotions, but… I think he’s in love with you. And I’m pretty sure you’re in love with him.”

You smirk, “And what makes you think that, Mr. Profiler?”

He smiles back, “Well, Hotch is always watching you, mostly when you’re not looking and when he does his expression sort of… softens. He almost always assigns the two of you together when giving the unit assignments, which I think is partially because he likes to be around you, but also because he’s trying to protect you, especially after that hostage situation a few months ago. He was a wreck when you were in there. Screaming at everyone, I really thought he would kill the unsub when he found him.”

“He would do that for any of us, when any of us were in danger.” You said, quickly shaking your head to dismiss the idea.

But Spencer shakes his head, “You didn’t see him. It was different.”

“Spencer, he barely gave me a pat on the back when I left that hostage situation alive.”

“That’s because he doesn’t trust himself around you. Why do you think the only time he’s ever given you a hint at the way he feels was when he was drunk?”

Your head is spinning as you look at Spencer, “No, that doesn’t make any sense--”

“It makes perfect sense and I know you know that.” Spencer’s phone rings, “Reid.” He sighs and lowers his head, “Where? Okay, we’ll be right there.” He hangs up the phone, “There’s another body.”

You sigh, “I really hate being right.”

***

“You were right,” Hotch says from behind you, “He’s discovered he likes killing.”

It was never easy looking at bodies, but somehow it was always worse when you had predicted it and still not been able to stop it, “How did he do it?”

“Manual strangulation.”

“Has anyone checked for skin or blood under her fingernails? Sign of a struggle?”

Aaron nods, “Already scraped off and sent to Garcia.”

“Even if she can’t find a match, we’ll be able to narrow down suspects by the injuries she left.”

“The school is panicking, they want to evacuate the campus.”

“If they evacuate we’ll never find him, he’ll just start again somewhere else.”

“That’s what I told them.”

You sigh, “Why are the girls still letting him in?”

“Maybe they’re not,” Hotch mused, “Maybe he’s starting to pick the girls from his classes now that we’re here.”

“The last two victims, do we have their schedules? Their majors?”

“They were both nursing majors,” Emily interjects, “Third year.”

You nod, “Okay, so by that point, third year, majority of their classes are restricted to nursing majors only.” You flip your phone open and dial Penelope.

“Hello my delightful fairy princess, what can I do for you?”

“Garcia, the last two victims, can you cross reference their class schedules and tell me if they had any classes in common?”

“Yes, just a second… Three classes in common.”

“Okay, cross reference with the remaining victims.”

“Um, okay, wow, all of them had two classes in common.”

“Shit.” You mutter, “Can you send over the class rosters of both those classes, but just the men. And also send pictures.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Penelope.”

You shake your head, “They were all nursing majors.” You say as you hang up, “How did we miss that?”

Reid was shaking his head, “We didn’t have a lot of time to interview the victims before the first body turned up.”

“Alright, we need everyone looking through those rosters, rounding up every male we can and interviewing them.” Hotch starts, “Y/N, you’re with me for interviews, the rest of you keep in touch with Garcia and find out anything you can.”

You try to ignore the shock you feel that he picked you this time, noting Reid’s raised eyebrows as he left the room. “You sure you want me on interviews?” You ask when you’re alone.

He’s looking at all the evidence on the corkboard, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Wasn’t sure if you would want to work closely with me anymore.” You say, standing next to him now and also looking over the evidence.

He looks at you now, “You have the same features as a lot of the victims, I’m hoping it’ll get a rise out of our unsub if we find him.”

You nod, “Makes sense.”

“And,” He says pointedly until you meet his eyes, “As I’ve said already, you’re an excellent agent and I could use your help on this.”

You heave a big sigh, “Okay, how do you wanna play it?”

He shrugs, “I think you already know what role I need you to play.”

***

This is maybe the tenth or so interview you and Hotch had done with no success. You were tired of playing this role, especially in front of Hotch.

“Jordan.” You smile sweetly at him, making sure to lean over the table just a little to give him the view he wants, “Did you know either of these girls?” You lay the pictures of the last couple victims on the table, wait to see his reaction. He brings his hands up to rest on the table and you see the shallow scratch marks on them, you share a discreet look with Hotch who barely nods in acknowledgement.

He stares for far too long. Hotch notices his hands clench into fists. He’s excited by the bodies.

“Yeah, I knew them.” He’s still looking at the pictures, “They were in two of my classes.” He finally looks up and gazes at you hungrily, “You seem awful young to be an FBI agent.”

You smile again and then look away, a sign of submission. “Stop flirting with my agent.” Hotch says placing his palms abruptly on the table. Jordan doesn’t flinch at Hotch’s presence, not taking his eyes off you. He’s more confident than either of you anticipated. Was the profile wrong or is this the wrong guy? “How did you know the victims?”

“I just told you, from class.”

“Did you ever see them outside of class?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe, to do a project, not in a while though.”

“Jordan, do you know if either of the girls had a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” He frowns, “Those two? No.” He practically scoffs.

You tilt your head to the side, “Why do you say it like that?”

“Those girls aren’t the boyfriend type. They’re whores.” There’s the bitterness in his voice.

You try to make your face as empathetic as possible, “What do you mean by that, Jordan?”

“Well, you know, they slept around… Wouldn’t give a nice guy like me a chance. You must know their type, you’re the FBI.”

You nod, “It must be so hard for a handsome, smart guy like you to get rejected. I can’t imagine why anyone would dream of missing out on that,” You shake your head, “Their loss.”

Hotch audibly scoffs and you watch Jordan glare at him. He’s getting angry. Good. “Hotch, why don’t you go get Jordan a water?”

Hotch blinks at you, trying to figure out if you had really just given him an order, “Agent, I am the lead interrogator on this case, I’m not leaving you alone in here--”

“Agent Hotchner,” You turn in your seat to face him, hoping he’ll read your expression, “Please get the young man a water, he’s been in here for hours.”

His eyes search your face for a few moments and then he leaves the room without another word. He won’t be getting Jordan a water. You know he’s watching carefully from the other side of the glass. “Sorry about him.” You say, “He doesn’t understand men like you.”

“Men like me?”

“Men who know how to get what they want.”

His face transforms as he watches you and he leans back in his chair, relaxed, legs spread to assert his dominance. “And you understand that?”

“There’s nothing sexier than a man who goes after what he wants… No matter what.”

He leans forward and whispers, “Even when they beg me to stop?”

You swallow past your disgust and, though you hate to admit it, fear, “Did they beg you to stop? Victoria and Erica?”

His smile widens as he watches you, “You remind me so much of them.”

“Can you tell me what you did to them? How you killed them?”

He licks his lips now, you think he’s lost all sense of where he is, falling for the delusion you’ve set in front of him, “You’re just like them, a dirty little slut. You want to be punished, don’t you?”

“Please.” Is the last word you whisper before he practically jumps across the table to grab your throat. Your chair falls backwards and he’s on top of you, crushing your windpipe. How could you forget that he was uncuffed? Hotch rushes in, he yells as he pulls Jordan off you, but you’re not sure what he’s saying. Then he’s cuffed Jordan and taken you out of the room.

“Sit.” Aaron says, ushering you to a chair that you practically fall into. You’re still coughing and you’re shaking a bit as Aaron gives you a water.

“I forgot,” You start, your voice hoarse, but Hotch brings the water cup to your mouth, insisting you drink before talking. You take a couple swallows, “I forgot he wasn’t cuffed.”

He shakes his head, “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

“No, I needed you on the other side of the glass. He wouldn’t have fallen for the delusion otherwise. I needed him to forget who I was and just see me as a potential victim.” Aaron wouldn’t meet your eyes, not wanting to admit that you were right, “I’m going back in there.”

“No, you’re not, that’s out of the question.”

“Is that an order, sir?” He scans your face in frustration, “You know it has to be me. He won’t talk to you. I’ll be fine.”

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “Fine. Ask him about Erica, don’t ask about Victoria.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t kill Victoria himself, it’ll ruin the fantasy and he might lie to you to try to impress you. The details of the murders weren’t shared with the public, only the unsub would know how each of them died. He needs to reveal how he killed Erica to you and then we’ll have him.”

“Okay.” You stand and hold your hands behind you so he won’t see them shaking, but he’s a profiler. The attempt is mute.

He takes a step closer, “You don’t have to go back in there,” He says softly, “No one will think less of you.”

When he’s this close, looking at you with such concern, it makes you want to melt in his arms. But you had a job to do, “I can do this.”

And before he can make you think about it more, you turn away from him and march back in the interrogation room.

“Sorry about that,” You sit back down at the table and smile at him, “My partner gets a little jealous sometimes.” You lean in and whisper, “He’s usually the only one I let handle me like that.”

Just like that he’s back, “Why don’t you uncuff me so we can continue?”

You bite your lip, “I’d like to hear more about the other girls first.”

***

“Why is she in there by herself?” Rossi came up behind Aaron who was watching the unsub’s every move, ready to jump in again if needed.

“She insisted.” Hotch says simply, “She almost has him.”

Rossi sighs, “She’s stubborn. Like someone else I know.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, “I can’t be with her, Rossi, it could ruin her career.”

“You can’t know that. And besides, don’t you think that should be her decision to make?”

Hotch doesn’t answer, he just continues watching you.

***

“Does it turn you on hearing what I’ve done to them?”

You’re sitting on your hands now, trying to stifle the growing panic in your head that was telling you to get out. He’s unarmed, he’s cuffed, Aaron is right there. He can’t hurt you. “You have no idea.” It came out breathless from your fear, but he interpreted it as desire.

“First, I knocked her out, tied her to the bed. Then I waited for her to wake up before I began. I stripped her clothes off her at that point and then I fucked her while she cried,” He’s smiling at you and you’re doing all you can to keep your expression neutral. “I took out the knife and started carving her up. You should have heard her beg. And then, when that’s all finished, I strangled her while I came inside her.” He leans over the table to get closer to you, and it takes everything in you not to move away, “Have you ever watched the light leave someone’s eyes, sweetheart?”

You calmly scoot your chair back and stand, buttoning your shirt back up and then resting your hand on your gun, reminding him of who you really are, “Thank you, Jordan. You’ve been incredibly helpful in this investigation.” And then turn to leave ignoring the way he calls after you.

When you exit the room, Aaron and Dave are both waiting for you and you sit down, exhausted, resting your head in your hands.

“Nice work, kid.” Dave says with a squeeze on your shoulder, and then he’s gone.

Then, there’s another touch on your back, more gentle and hesitant. You look up to see Aaron watching you, concern masking his face, “I’m fine, Hotch.” You say, shrugging him off.

His hand drops and you immediately regret it. “When you were taken those months ago, by that unsub…” His words are slow, as if making sure this is what he really wants to say to you. You know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it, “He raped you, didn’t he?” Your eyes snap up to meet his. “You would never tell us what actually happened, all those hours he had you, a sexual sadist.” He shakes his head, “There’s no way he would’ve been able to control himself.”

You shake your head just lightly, “I can’t do this now, Aaron.”

“Then when?” He’s frustrated now, borderline angry, “You lied at your psych eval, you said nothing happened, we let you come back after just a couple of weeks--”

“And I’m doing just fine, aren’t I?” You stand so you’re nearly eye level with him.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you almost fell apart in there?”

“But I didn’t. I finished it and I did a damn good job and you know it.”

Hotch erases all traces of emotion from his face as he stares you down, “You’re suspended for two weeks, effective immediately. Hand over your badge and gun, agent.”

You nearly stumble back from him as if you’ve been hit, “Aaron?”

“What’s going on?” Prentiss has entered the room now followed by the rest of the team, all watching with confused and worried expressions.

“You heard me.” Hotch says, never taking his eyes off you. You make no moves to take out your badge or gun, “Now, agent.” There’s bite to his words this time.

You feel humiliated. With the whole team watching, you place your gun and badge on the table and brush by Aaron without a second glance. Pushing past the team, even Spencer who reaches for you.

“What the hell was that, Hotch?” Derek says once you’ve left.

“She lied in order to pass her psych eval. I did what I had to do.” Everyone’s staring at him, but he walks by, seemingly unphased, “Good work, everyone. Get some rest, we go home tomorrow at first light.”

[seokjinsonlyone]

Not My Type | 3

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: "She's a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful."

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: none; jimin here tho being flirty and stirring the pot <3333

rating: pg

wc: 1.7k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Jungkook’s newfound hobby was driving her crazy. One too many times had their little lunch rendezvous made its way into her mind in the past week. The way he sniffed her hair oddly enough was a recurring playback. She had a thing for weirdos and Jungkook could definitely be classified as that. And, that was exactly why she needed to shut this whole thing down.

Now, she considered herself a progressive individual. She didn’t mind change as long as it was for the better. She didn’t have a problem evolving her relationship with a friend. In fact, she preferred it. Always said that if she was gonna get into it, she wanted to be with a friend. But, this particular friendship wasn’t the one. It wouldn’t make sense. There was no way it could possibly be better.

They were like oil and water. They didn’t mix. Which was fine as a friendship, they could peacefully coexist. Anything more than that, however, would be an unnecessary burden. And, her life didn’t need to be anymore difficult than it already was. She wanted an easy love. It was this line of reasoning that carried her straight to her best friend’s house.

“You need to talk to your friend,” she announced, waltzing into Jimin’s home, throwing her purse on the couch before finding him sitting at the island eating cereal.

He looked up. “I’ve already told you should just ask Taemin out. He’ll most likely say yes. He thinks you’re hot. Stop trying to get me to create scenarios.”

“And, I’ve already told you I refuse to pursue a man. No matter how dreamy and evil he is,” she sighed.

In all honesty, she probably would’ve gone for it if it weren’t for the fact that she could tell he wasn’t really into her. Not in the way she would’ve liked for him to be into her. He flirted with her in person (and in her dms), held her in a way that made her stomach jump after a few drinks, but ultimately his goal was a few nights in the sheets. And, that just wasn’t her thing. She didn’t do casual. Didn’t like to invite people into her life that weren’t going to stay. So even though she thought they could be good together, she was deciding to let this one go. If he couldn’t see what was right in front of him that was on him.

“You’re gonna end up alone.”

“You must realize that I am my favorite person.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about Jungkook.”

“What he do?”

“He’s been acting weird ever since last week.”

“What happened last week?”

She sucked her teeth. “You know, when we were all here?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, pupils shifting from side to side, visibly racking his brain trying to recall what happened at his place last week. “Oh! Wednesday! I was so drunk, bro. What happened?”

“Ugh. You don’t remember asking me to rank all of y’all from most to least my type?” Typical Jimin. Cause trouble then dip.

“What’d you rank me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I ain’t doing this again.”

He dropped his legs from the footrest of the barstool, tugging her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Mmm. You couldn’t handle me either way.”

She’s not gonna lie, her heart skipped a beat. But, that’s the only reason he did it in the first place. He knew it flustered her on some level. So, she decided to play along for once, bringing her hand up to toy with the hair that rested at the back of his neck. “Baby boy, I could make you cry,” she whispered seductively.

He made a face, then pushed her away turning his attention back to his cereal. “You’re gross.”

“You started it,” she accused, laughter bubbling up at his reaction. He was CEO of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Always in the mood to dish it out, but hardly able to take it in return.

“So, what’s going on? Why do I need to talk to him?”

“Because I told him he wasn’t my type, and now he’s trying to convince me that he is.”

He choked. “What?”

“He literally showed up at my work the other day and brought me lunch.”

“That was more so directed at you saying Jungkook isn’t your type.”

“He’s not.” He raised his eyebrows, smirking conspiratorially. “He isn’t,” she insisted.

“So, you didn’t used to drool over him when you two first met?”

“See why you gotta go and bring up the past.” She wouldn’t say that she had a full blown crush on him, she didn’t know him and therefore couldn’t actually like him, but for a minute she was down bad. She wasn’t expecting to meet him when she did. Jimin had wanted to hang out and asked for a ride. He was with Jungkook when she picked him up and she was effectively caught off guard. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was out of the car and shaking hands with him in greeting. The next few weeks were spent trying her hardest to be in his presence. She never said more than two words to the boy, but yeah she was down bad. Once her hormones subsided, though, they eventually developed a friendship. A friendship that needed to stay a friendship. “Besides, I never said he wasn’t hot. I’m saying our personalities don’t match up. It wouldn’t work.”

“You aren’t that different from each other.”

“Yeah, but we’re wrong in just the right ways. It wouldn’t work.” He was right in saying that weren’t all that dissimilar, but it was because of that that she was sure starting any kind of relationship with romantic intent would go up in flames. The two were like parallel lines. Never meant to cross. Adjacent, but never intersecting. As they should.

“It sounds to me like you’re just afraid of what could happen.”

“Hold on there partner. I didn’t come here to be lectured or psychoanalyzed. I don’t even think he likes me for real, but he’s heading down a slippery slope. I just want you to talk to him before he goes and starts something that’s gonna get his feelings hurt, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” One thing about Jimin was that he was nosy. Had absolutely zero qualms about getting all up in other people’s business. Knowledge equals power is what he always told himself. So, if she hadn’t come to him voluntarily offering up this information, he would’ve picked up on it sooner or later, inserting himself in the middle of it all. As it stands, he’s been giving explicit permission to do some digging. All he has to do is wait for the opportunity to arise.

The opportunity came a few days later. Jungkook was sitting on his couch, phone in hand, completely zoned out when Jimin pounced.

“So... Y/N?”

Jungkook startled at the mention of her name. It wasn’t like he was just thinking about her. He definitely wasn’t about to text her. He hadn’t spent the past minutes in a daze typing, deleting, and retyping messages to send. Nope. “Huh?”

“Y/N? What’s going on with you and her?” Jimin asked again.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” he feigned innocence, voice raising an octave. Even though, for all intents and purposes, there really wasn’t anything going on.

He looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what she said.”

“What did she say?” She talked about him?

“You tell me.” He smirked sitting down, crossing one leg over the other like some kind of therapist.

“I don’t know. We had lunch,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because I thought she might be hungry.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that she said you’re not her type?”

He blew raspberries into the air. He couldn’t lie to Jimin even if he tried. The man always managed to see right through him. A consequence of nearly ten years of friendship. “I’m just trying to get to know her better,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because she’s nice.” Which wasn’t the complete truth, but if he admitted that he thought she had stars in her eyes he’d never hear the end of it.

“She’s a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she’s one of the best people I know, but she’s stubborn and once she has an idea in her head it’s very hard for her to let go.”

“So you think I should stop?”

“I think you shouldn’t go into this blind, is all I’m saying. Whatever you’re doing, probably won’t be easy. And, I don’t want you to get hurt. Or hurt her. What do you plan on doing if you manage to make her like you? If you’re not serious then I think you should stop.” Jimin patted his shoulder, then got up leaving him to his thoughts.

Jungkook heard what he was saying. He did. And, he was right. He hadn’t been thinking too hard about what he was doing. Honestly, he was just following the skip in his heartbeat and so far that led him to her. There was a very real possibility of him getting his feelings hurt. She was very strong willed. Couldn’t budge her mind with a bulldozer. So, if she was dead set on being against this, there wasn’t much he could do anyway.

Still, this wasn’t something he could let go of easily. He had no intentions of hurting her. It wasn’t just some conquest for him. That much he was sure of. He would hate to get closer to her, have her catch feelings for him, then dip because he wasn’t feeling it. But, he seriously doubted that would happen. It’s not like they were complete strangers. He was just seeing her in a new light now. And as much as he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, at this point he didn’t know if this was something he should even avoid. It didn’t seem like it.

Truthfully, he didn’t feel this way often. This pull he now felt toward her. He was usually much too caught up in trying to be the best version of himself he could be to entertain thoughts of others. However, right now she had his attention and he didn’t want to look away. He opened his text thread with her typing and finally sending a message before he could overthink it.

[10:53pm] jk: lunch tomorrow?

[toovirgins]

I always find it interesting how Paul goes out of his way to say that he “likes the theory” that john could’ve been in love with him and of course the “he would’ve made a pass at me” shtick. Like sir…. what straight man likes the idea of their male best friend being in love with them? I guess someone could say both quotes are just examples of his big ego but having your best friend being in love with you if it’s unrequited is awkward as hell and we all know Paul hates when things are awkward and anything but perfectly friendly

Hi! I’m so sorry this has taken so long, I lost the ask for quite a while but I found it in my drafts just now (hooray!)

We're going to start with a disclaimer here that I personally think that John and Paul are perhaps the most complicated people you could ever study in history. Trying to psychoanalyze anyone, whether it be your parents, friends, self, etc. is an incredibly daunting task, because 'people' are nuanced in ways we will never understand no matter how many scientific strides we make towards doing so. Take any of the countless environmental factors that affect behavior: parents (attachments, involvement, punitive styles, parenting styles); sociocultural/historical context (primarily gender role socialization and sexuality, for our purposes); mind-altering substances (drugs/pills/alcohol, addictions); mental health (views on mental health, eating disorders, depression); identity theory and stages of psychosocial development; the list goes on and on. Now, consider all of these psychological and sociological developments in the context of John Lennon and Paul McCartney—who experienced all of these things that the rest of us do—but add a historical, unprecedented and unsurpassed level of fame, wealth, publicity, and public transparency.

All that being said, here's a little psychoanalysis. 

I think you’ve nailed it, because up front: Paul is not immovably heterosexual. I tend to disagree with the label, anyway, because sexuality is a spectrum and it hardly makes sense to categorize it when it is both fluid and indefinite. What I mean when I say this about Paul is that sexuality is a social construct, in that what is “straight” is defined by place, time, and human interaction. But we’ll get into the messy implications of that in a second.

First things first, yes anon. I absolutely agree with you. Paul, lovely Paul, is so so interesting when it comes to the topic of sexuality (particularly John's, secondarily his own). For example, as you mention, Paul stating openly that he enjoys the idea of John being attracted to him, in a sexual manner that assumes a very particular power dynamic. Considering the many times that Paul openly denies any romantic linking between himself and John, this is a troubling development indeed—why would someone who is so adamant about denying romantic involvement also almost proudly flaunt sexual suggestion?

I use the term “romantic” here as in conceptualized Romantic Love, because I think it’s important to define the type of “love” that Paul is cornered by in the linked Stern interview. There’s a great paper by Dion & Dion (1996) called ‘Cultural perspectives on romantic love’, and it defines “romantic love” within the following parameters: idealization of the partner, suddenness of onset, physiological arousal, commitment to the well-being of the other, intense attraction involving idealization (typically in an erotic context, but not necessarily), expectations of the endurance of the relationship, preoccupation with the partner, belief that the experience of love has a special quality, and lastly, passionate experience. Take a breath. 

Now, note that it never actually mentions physical involvement, namely just infatuation, idealization, and arousal. It makes a lot of sense why Paul would frame Stern’s questions in this light—writing songs for one another and calling them the “love of your life” is heavily implicated in this type of romanticism—and thus be extremely put off by it. But, looking in as outsiders, I think it’s safe to say that John and Paul’s relationship more than meets the “criteria”, if you will, for romantic love. The infatuation, commitment, idealization, preoccupation, etc. etc. is painfully evident in their relationship, what with their inside interactions and exclusivity. The part I could foresee being argued is the arousal and physiological attraction, but even then I would point to both of their accounts on meeting each other for the first time: Paul saying John looked suave without his glasses, and John saying he dug Paul ‘cause he looked like Elvis (y’know, like one of the biggest sex symbols of the era?). I know this part’s not super scientific-y, but come on. For all you immovable heterosexuals out there, how often do you meet a Potential Friend and only talk about how fuckin’ hot they looked the day you met them like it’s a flashbulb memory? Paul literally talks about remembering the exact shirt and hairstyle John had at the fête. 

So, we often see interviews like this: where Paul will be like “Never mind the new album. John, though, isn’t that something. Gorgeous man. Love that guy to death”, the reporter will be like, “Ah, yes, so you loved him?”, and Paul will say, “Wtf? Stop putting words in my mouth?” 

Why might he do this?

Paul grew up in the 1950′s and 60′s in Liverpool, a region where homosexuality would remain criminalized until 1967. I feel like I can’t emphasize the historical context enough sometimes. Paul had his beliefs, attitudes, and values shaped by a society that condemned and actively prosecuted homosexuality. And, as we well know in our own experiences with legislature, simply passing an act or law or what have you does NOT inherently alter society’s perception. In fact, prosecutions of homosexuality reportedly increased in the months following the Sexual Offences Act 1967. Some writers argue that homosexuality is still not decriminalized, and persecution is simply operating under other names like “public indecency” charges or “the gay age of consent”. 

I believe this clash is where Paul’s cognitive dissonance comes in. Regardless of whether or not homosexuality was “illegal” for the majority of Paul’s life, his formative years occurred in a time period where a specific behavior/feeling was demonized. If you were raised under the resounding ideology that “gay = wrong”, it’s going to be extremely difficult for you to adapt when something suddenly says, “hey! gay = not wrong.” If you, as an adolescent, are constantly being fed that homosexual thoughts, feelings, and actions are sinful (religiously-based), morally wrong (socially-based), or legally wrong, experiencing those very things, no matter the magnitude, is harrowing and sickening. You won’t want to believe it, and you’ll do a lot of things to trick yourself into loopholes.

And, it’s not just the “morality” of homosexuality, either. It’s what homosexuality means. As I mentioned at the start, sexuality is a social construct and what’s “straight” now may not be what was “straight” fifty years ago. For example, take the ancient Greek custom of pederasty, where adult men would sleep with young, often teenage, boys. This wasn’t a matter of “homosexuality”, but rather (depending on the context) a social custom, a “rite of passage”, and even a female exclusion tactic. That’s a weird, warped, hypersexual example, but it emphasizes the point of historical context: that “custom” in today’s society would be considered both homosexual and pedophilic. Same thing goes for the circle jerks, really, in emphasizing the social context: even though it’s a sexual act in a room full of men, it’s not polyamory or homosexual if they’re just “getting off” or “passing the time” or “boys being boys”. This is important, because the way that homosexuality had been explicitly defined in terms of the law (which, in turn, had its effects on societal perception) was largely sodomy. Since this was the case, it would make perfect sense for Paul to consider kissing/touching/mutual masturbation/handjobs and actual homosexuality (read: oral stimulation or anal penetration) mutually exclusive. It’s so easy to get caught up in technicalities when systems formulate sexuality as this kind of binary, in what “is” part of the sexuality and what “is not”. Paul can say that John’s not a homosexual, because John never fucked him. Paul can say that he’s immovably heterosexual, because whatever happened with John wasn’t defined as “gay”. And the same goes for reconciling these feelings with himself: they’re not gay, because gay means getting buggered or sucking off your mate. 

I think this is where Paul’s background and foreground intersect and why we see such conflicting stances on John with regards to love. 

If you’re unfamiliar with cognitive dissonance, the main premise is this: someone has thoughts that don’t reflect their actions, and that brings about an uneasiness within the person. Paul is happy to talk about John for hours, to write about John (Oh, man, who has the quote of Paul saying he could write songs about John and always deny it? I’m too lazy to sift through my likes), to talk about how fit he looked when he saw him 60+ years ago, to mention the “deeper love that neither of them could admit to”. Those are the manifestations of the thoughts (which, really, we’re lucky to have, because I feel as though Paul allows us only a sliver of his truest thoughts and feelings—very self-policed media presence, as I’ve mentioned before). The actions are then, in turn, denying what is so clearly an expression of love and chalking it up to “bein’ mates” or whatever the hell. John and Paul had a love of cosmic proportions that we—fans, historians, biographers, even their peers—will never truly be able to comprehend. The fact that this is experienced by Paul and yet he works so hard to trivialize it creates that unease that we see when he directly contradicts himself over and over again, rambles on about an unrelated topic, or becomes incredibly (almost bitterly) defensive. If we wanted to get theoretical, we can also operate under the assumption that Paul experienced this same cognitive dissonance in the reverse format: telling himself that he was clearly straight while experimenting with John, and then panicking in India or wherever if John tried to take a step to produce an actual, tangible relationship.

In long-winded closing, I do think it’s possible for Paul’s behavior to be a result of his massive ego [affectionate], and I wouldn’t excuse it from at least playing a part. There’s never any one cause for these things. However, considering all these sociological and psychological factors, I think it’s more likely that these conflicting and strange accounts are exactly as he hints at: a larger phenomenon that he couldn’t admit to. It’s fun to hear that someone loves you, or is attracted to you! He publicly enjoys the idea of John being in love with him, but only to an extent. As soon as you suggest reciprocation on his part, it crumbles and the defense mechanisms kick in. 

It’s all about plausible deniability: much of his discussion on John could, potentially, be re-construed as platonic, the “sexual attraction” thing a power play, the songs about something/someone else. His biggest defense is the “would have made a pass at me” schtick, because to Paul, that’s plausible: “Uh, c’mon, love. If he didn’t want me, he didn’t want anyone.” It’s also a bit of that famous McCartney gatekeeping I love so much, that “if John were ever going to get experimental, who would you think he’d go for first?” Because again, to Paul, that seems the most likely way to get the press off of their backs whilst simultaneously protecting his own sexuality, because it implies that John never tried anything and thus that neither(!) of them were in a position to try anything. He gets defensive because there’s that ever-present tug-of-war between his feelings towards John/what they meant, and what he allowed himself to do with/say about John, which is all influenced by his social and historical contexts. 

Okay, the end! (I promise this time.) This was a lot and I hope it 1) makes sense, and 2) makes up for the awful response time :) Thanks so much for your comment!

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (13)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst, years of longing escalating into something serious

words: 8.6k (send help)

   chapter thirteen

The lamp posts on the street illuminated Jungkook’s face with a warm yellow haze as the two of you walked back to your dormitory, the noise of the party – and the argument you’d had outside of it – already behind you. You didn’t dare to watch him for longer than just a split-second but you could feel his eyes on you when he thought you were too focused on the pavement to notice.

You hadn’t said a word to each other since you left the front yard of his house – and that was already two and a half blocks away – and both of you were busy worrying what the right way to say goodbye once you reached your dorm was. A wave didn’t feel enough but a hug seemed inappropriate after the intense conversation you’d had.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook volunteered to make your trip less awkward.

“Were you actually going to have me arrested?” he asked, recalling your previous threat with surprising clarity – probably because it had impressed him so much.

You sighed, recognizing the amusement on his features – no matter how hard he tried to play it off as simple curiosity – and then said, “no, probably not. That would have only ruined your whole plan and your future—”

“I already have a record,” he pointed out. He said it like that was supposed to make you feel better – it’s totally fine if you get me arrested, you know – but you almost stopped walking in surprise.

“Y-you do?” you asked, unable to fathom how a family as rich as his could not find a way to ensure their beloved son remained a flawless citizen.

“It’s not the first time I got into a fight,” he explained simply and, if you hadn’t known the truth, you’d have thought he really was just your usual troublemaker with no strong backing from his relatives whatsoever. “Some of those fights were more public than others.”

“And your dad—?”

“He took care of it to the best of his ability,” Jungkook admitted, sounding far less dignified than when he mentioned he had a record – as if that was something to be proud of. “But he can only do so much without staining his own reputation. It’s just a few misdemeanors anyway, so he decided it wasn’t worth it. If it proved to be a problem later on, he thought he could just blame it on my youth.”

You chose not to voice it – to avoid an argument that would certainly arise because that was just how Jungkook was – but you couldn’t help thinking that his father’s reasoning was actually different. Maybe he chose not to cover Jungkook’s previous arrest up to teach him a lesson.

“Does that bother you?” you asked instead.

“What?

“That he didn’t put enough work to cover this up.”

Jungkook looked down. All of your questions about his feelings, his wishes, his ambitions were so unusual to him that he didn’t even know what the proper way of answering them was, because you looked like you genuinely wanted to know. You didn’t ask just to be polite.

“No,” he ended up saying, “I didn’t want him to cover it up. And it’s not like I acted out to get his attention, or anything. He seemed really tired of it all when he had to deal with that. You know he’s usually the sort who gets his frustrations out vocally?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Well, when he picked me up from the police station, he didn’t say a word,” Jungkook said. “It was like I’d unlocked a new level of disappointment – one I’d never seen before – where he was just quietly fuming. Or just… so disappointed, he couldn’t even begin to find words.”

You felt jittery. It was hard to walk when your legs kept trying to bounce nervously, hoping to rid you of the excessive anxiety.

“I never knew this,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a smile that wasn’t supposed to seem sad but, because it was purposefully meant to conceal his despair, sad was exactly what it seemed like.

“My mom didn’t tell yours,” he said.

“But they tell each other everything,” you felt the need to point out but you could feel your own naivety getting the best of you – even the people, who had no secrets, had secrets.

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook replied. “But I don’t think my mom would have had it in her to brag to her best friend – with a straight-A student for a daughter – that her son got arrested. She may have been less obvious than my dad, but she was still just as disappointed.”

Your heart clenched uncomfortably when he mentioned your scholarly achievements and, for a brief moment, you almost felt bad for being such a good student when he was struggling to be a good person.

But you didn’t think now was the time to feel bad about yourself – especially since there wasn’t anything you should have felt bad about in the first place – and you eyed Jungkook carefully before finally daring to ask, “did they ever say they were disappointed in you?”

“They don’t have to say it, it’s plain and obvi—”

“No, but maybe that’s just you assuming things,” you interrupted. Your mind conjured up a thousand scenarios of how this conversation could have gone wrong, but your mouth kept moving, “you have that right. I mean, they have been disappointed in you plenty of times before. But maybe this time they weren’t. Maybe they were just scared for you.”

Jungkook looked at you and he wanted to believe that you were basing your speculations on some legitimate evidence that he’d missed, instead of just hoping that this was true. But he’s known his parents long enough to recognize their defeat.

“Why would they be scared?” he questioned rhetorically. “I know how to throw a punch.”

“Well, maybe that’s why,” you said.

“No, that’s not it,” he said firmly. “They don’t get scared when I get into fights. They get  frustrated, like how did I dare to do that? And then do that again. And again. Maybe they also get confused: I am their son and yet they can’t explain why I am this way.”

He said it like he was diseased – like lacking proper conflict-resolution skills and being impulsive was an illness he’d inherited from someone and, since no one else in his family was sick, that had to mean he didn’t belong there. He belonged somewhere else.

And every time he did something that did not fit into the frame of acceptable behavior in his family’s eyes, it just reminded them that he was the black sheep in a herd of white ones. How did he get here?

“It’s not just you,” you said, your heart hurting. No matter if his parents were really disappointed in him or if they were just worried for him, no child should ever feel like he didn’t belong at home. “Kids from close, loving families rarely grow up to be impulsive or, well, aggressive.”

He clenched his jaw after you said this and that was when you knew that, despite feeling shunned for not being the son his parents had wanted, Jungkook was still their son. They were still his parents.

“I was always like this,” he declared. “From the day I was born. You know that. The relationship with my family hardly changed anything.”

You wondered if he was aware he was defending his family – the family that constantly hurt him with their expectations – by shifting all blame to himself.

“They could have worked as a preventative measu—”

“How, exactly? Remember the time I gave three kids from my pre-school class bloody noses?” he said to prove his point. “Because one of them mocked my drawing of a giraffe and the other two laughed.”

“I-I remember—” you struggled to find a word, “that. It’s not an acceptable way to solve conflict. If they’d taught you that—”

“Acceptability is subjective,” he snapped.

“Uh, sure,” you said and then stopped to wonder if you had the right to draw these conclusions about him.

You thought that, if only Jungkook had gotten more love from the people who were most responsible to love him, he may have grown up to be different – but saying that out loud would have made you sound far too condescending and it would have made a normal person feel uneasy.

Someone who was as arrogant as Jungkook was bound to get riled up – he was already defensive enough as it was – and, maybe, rightfully so. He wasn’t telling you about his family to have you psychoanalyze him. He was just talking to you.

“I-I guess there are other factors that determine how a person chooses to react to something,” you said, threading more carefully now. “For example, you let your testosterone make your decisions for you.”

The sudden transition to biology confused him as he turned to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. “My testosterone?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s obviously your uncontrollable hormones that get you in these situations in the first place. You’re like a twelve-year-old boy, unsure what to do with himself, so you just go with whatever your instincts tell you.”

“Fourteen-year-old boy,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I was fourteen when we stopped being friends.”

That only confused your further. “What does that have to do with—”

“Maybe you were the preventative measure that my family was supposed to be for me,” Jungkook said, the words pouring out as smoothly and elegantly as the floating of your skirt in the windy night. He chuckled humorlessly as he finished, “and then I lost that – the only positive influence in my life.”

You wanted to tell him that he never lost you. That he tried to rid himself of you, he tried to walk away – but he never lost you. No matter how much you wanted to detach yourself from him, to walk away, to move on – he never lost you.

And, more than that, you wanted to ask him why that happened – to demand why he walked away – but allowing him to shift the focus to your relationship would have been selfish. This wasn’t about you-and-him right now. This was about you and him.

Because you were here. You were always here. But Jungkook wasn’t – not always. Often, he fell out of touch with himself completely. And if there was no him, there could never be you-and-him.

“You… you need to be the positive influence in your life,” you said instead, advocating for independence when all you wanted was for him to let you hold his hand so he was steadier on his feet. “You can’t rely on others to get you out of the messes you create all the time.”

“I know,” Jungkook said but he no longer felt like discussing the reasons for his behavior, because every reason eventually led back to you – and when he thought of you, he couldn’t think of anything else. “But I never learned how to take care of myself, did I?”

“No, you never did,” you agreed and then, watching him smile appreciatively – you rarely ever agreed with him – you continued more playfully, “maybe it’s time you started learning, you big baby.”

He laughed and even the wind stopped to listen.

“Maybe,” he said then, the same pathetic hopeful tone that was in your voice before, now evident in his, “I do have you to help me again, don’t I?”

You do, you wanted to say, you’ve always had me. But you only smiled.

“I can’t be the one to handle your conflicts for you,” you said instead. “You have to learn how to do that yourself. How to do that responsibly. I can just… be there for you.”

And, much to the joy of your body that was aching to support him, he smiled and said, “that’s more than enough.”

“Okay,” you swallowed. You felt relieved suddenly – like the tension that surrounded you since you left the party had finally dissipated – and, paradoxically, nervous. Like you didn’t know how to act anymore.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice that, however, as he teased, “support me even when I inevitably fuck up again, though, yeah?”

You raised your eyebrows, countering his lively pout.

“That’s not a very good attitude,” you said. “How do you expect to change if you’re setting yourself up for failure from the get-go?”

He shrugged. “By a miracle?”

“Jungkook.”

“Come on. I have you rooting for me. I won’t let you down,” he assured you and then, carelessly throwing his arm around your shoulders, added, “I am a great actor. I just have to start playing a responsible role.”

“It’s your father you’re supposed to prove your responsibility to, not me,” you reminded him – just like he’d reminded you a few days ago in your dorm room – although your skin was burning from his touch. “But I’m hoping that by pretending to be responsible, you’ll actually learn a thing or two and prove yourself to us both.”

Jungkook looked at you – his face so close and so welcoming – and said, in the most laid-back fashion that was possible for someone who’d just crossed half the campus while analyzing his childhood issues, “you’re very preachy when you’re drunk.”

It felt like you’d left the party years ago as you said, “I don’t feel drunk anymore.”

“Oh, well. That doesn’t surprise me then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he leaned his head against yours and the touch of your temples was electrifying -- like shock therapy that numbed every one of your senses except the ones that consumed his close presence. “I’ve missed your lectures.”

You doubted that but your voice didn’t sound convincing when you spoke – he probably wouldn’t have even heard you if he wasn’t so close, “have you, really?”

“Hmm,” he purred and your pulse nearly flat-lined. “I’ve missed everything about you.”

If you two weren’t walking so close to each other, if he didn’t have his arm around your shoulders, if his head wasn’t pressed against yours – then maybe his words wouldn’t have strummed the strings of your heart so terribly and so delightfully. Maybe you wouldn’t have forgotten all about the seven-year-long silence when you heard the song his words played for you.

But you were walking so close to each other – so close, in fact, that a passerby wouldn’t have been able to tell where your body ended and his began; you shared a silhouette.

And he did have his arm around your shoulders – pulling you closer to him while making sure you were steady on your feet even if his own balance was off.

And his head was pressed against yours – so gently and yet so naturally, it was as if there were magnets inside your skulls and they literally pulled you to one another.

And, thus, when you reached the door of your dorm room, you could not imagine yourself saying goodbye. You couldn’t imagine watching him walk away.

“Are you coming in?” you asked as Jungkook waited a few steps away, unsure how to behave now that the moment-at-the-end-of-the-night had arrived.

“I thought you said you felt like going to sleep,” he said perhaps a little awkwardly.

“I do,” you said and maybe you were still drunk without realizing it but you felt bold enough to add, “but I also feel like spending time with you in a place where... we don’t have to worry about what other people think. Not to mention, your wound needs to be taken a look at.”

“My wound?” his bruised cheekbones had completely escaped his mind. “Oh, that—it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“At least, let me put a band-aid on it,” you asked.

“And cover up my beautiful face?” he scoffed, using his favorite strategy of dealing with problems – deflection. “No.”

You sighed. “It won’t be beautiful if it scars.”

“Are you kidding?” he still didn’t give in, bringing a hand down the side of his own face and clenching his teeth so you wouldn’t see him wince when he touched the wound. “It’ll make me look badass.”

“You’re a baby,” you declared and then ordered, “come inside.”

“Not if you’re going to be pulling your medical equipment out on me—”

Groaning, you cut him off with a reluctant – but irritated – promise, “I won’t. Now, come in.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook checked again but he was already reaching for the door that you kept open for him.

“Yes,” you said.

He still hesitated. “Because you don’t have to—”

His uncertainty did terrible things to your boldness – it seemed to vanish with every moment that he did not enter your room.

“Look, if you’d rather get back to the party,” you said, “and drink some more of Taehyung’s painfully unbearable drinks, then, by all means, go—”

“No,” he cut in sharply – maybe too sharply – and then, just to be sure you understood why he cut you off, he said, “I’d rather be with you.”

“Well, come inside, then,” you said and, because you were nervous, you felt the need to add, “but I can’t promise to be more entertaining than absinthe.”

He snickered, finally walking past your doorway. “Oh, you have a far bigger effect on me than absinthe.”

He stopped to take his shoes off. You stopped to lock the door.

The hallway of your dorm-room was very small for two people but, locked away from the rest of the world, you suddenly felt like you were home. Like there was nothing to be nervous about here. Like you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades.

“Ah,” you started to say because you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades, “so it burns your throat when you get in contact with me and you feel sick every time you look at me?”

“That’s—” Jungkook paused, one sneaker off. He raised his eyes to look at you. “You really hate it that much, huh?”

“It’s a rational feeling,” you said, unbuckling the strap of your own shoes. “Absinthe is not meant to be enjoyable.”

“Well, if we’d stayed longer, you would have seen what my bandmates do with it,” Jungkook said. “It involves a cube of sugar and a whole lot of cursing because their hands shake too much to do anything.”

He hadn’t realized just how hypnotizing it could be to watch someone take off their shoes so, when you finally placed your shoes on the floor, your feet aching from the torture you’d put them through tonight, he was still staring at your legs.

You cleared your throat, somewhat self-conscious now. “I’m, uh—I’m a little intrigued.”

This got him to lift his eyes to your face. “Oh? So… does that mean there’s a little possibility you’ll go to the party with me again next week?”

“Next week,” you repeated, realizing that this was Parental Advisory’s routine: parties every Friday, hangovers every Saturday. You turned around with a soft sigh and headed into the bedroom, plopping down on your bed. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

Jungkook chuckled, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, keeping respectful distance from you – because you weren’t walking across campus anymore, now you were on a bed – but still remaining close enough to hear your faint breathing. “I was just kidding. We can stay here.”

You looked at him. “No.”

“No?” he repeated, his voice breaking in surprise. “Okay, then. We don’t have to do anything togeth—”

“No, I just mean—you like that,” you clarified before his stomach could drop any lower. “You enjoy partying, hanging out with people, drinking, dancing, and all that. I don’t want you to give that up to hang out with me here.”

You were saying you didn’t want to bore him. You were saying you didn’t want him to overstep the boundaries of your fake relationship.

He’d never heard you say something so stupid before and he didn’t realize that it was his own words that got you to feel this uncertain.

“I’m not giving anything up,” he said because, apparently, even the smartest people sometimes needed to have it spelled out for them. “I do enjoy that but I also enjoy spending time with you.”

In your defense, it wasn’t spelling out that you needed. It was reassurance.

“We haven’t done that since we were… well, in middle school,” you pointed out and your last words were an incantation of a silence spell that prevented you from saying anything else for the next few minutes.

This time was no exception, as both of you shared a thoughtful moment, avoiding each other’s eyes, and then Jungkook clapped his palms on his knees, nodding his head in the direction of your laptop on the desk across the room.

The spell was broken. You weren’t going to speak of that day. Not today.

“Well, come on, then,” he said. “We have a lot of catching up to do, it’s been seven years. Show me the movies I’ve missed.”

“Lots of movies came out in seven years,” you replied but got up from the bed to get your computer nevertheless.

“Well,” Jungkook said, dramatically extending his arm to check the non-existent watch on his wrist. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

You sat back down, smiling at his antics, and pulling up your Videos folder. You scanned it briefly, trying to pick one movie that would leave a long-lasting impression on him – even though you couldn’t explain why you wanted to impress him.

“Don’t think about it,” he suggested. “Just choose the first one. We’ll watch them all.”

You scoffed. “There’s not a chance in hell you’ll stay awake through more than one movie.”

“You want to bet?” he countered, knowing your taste in movies too well. “After the movie you’ll choose, I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep for a week.”

You rolled your eyes as you smiled – he’d never grown to like horror movies as much as you did – and teased, “don’t be a baby.”

“I can’t,” he pouted on purpose, hoping for more of your sympathy and not knowing that he already had all of it. “I scare easily.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You just get distracted all the time and everything catches you unprepared.”

“That’s the same thing,” he insisted.

Sighing as you finally settled on the movie, you gave him a look. “Just try not to fall asleep on me, okay?”

“Do you mean that literally or—”

“I mean it in every sense of the word,” you replied. “If you start snoring during my favorite part, I might not be able to forgive you.”

“So strict about snoring,” he said, a mocking grin on his lips.

“I am,” you replied, completely serious. “So, now that we’ve established that—”

“We established that in second grade,” he reminded you, “when you tried to suffocate me with a pillow during our sleepover.”

“I…” you started to say but the memory was too unexpected and overwhelming – and he didn’t remember it correctly. “I tried to get you to stop snoring!”

“By putting a pillow on my face!”

“Nothing else worked!”

“You could have kicked me!”

“I did!” you said. “Several times. My feet bruised.”

He rolled his eyes, adamant to prove your murderous tendencies. “Oh, please.”

You shook your head, the argument so pointless and unnecessary that you chose to opt for a compromise. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen tonight, alright?”

“It won’t,” he assured you, “I stopped snoring after that incident. I guess, you could say I haven’t recovered from that trauma. I’m constantly afraid someone’s going to try to use a pillow on me—”

“I wasn’t trying to do that!” you said with a groan and when he opened his mouth to protest again, you cut in quickly, “drop this or I really will suffocate you with a pillow.”

He closed his mouth again and then nodded, impressed.

“Still very strict about snoring,” he corrected his earlier statement. “I’ll keep my breathing in check.”

You finger lingered on the mouse button, ready to play the movie you’d picked, but your mind lingered on the memory he’d brought back and all the other memories that came with it. It’s already been a long night, full of reminiscing, discussing, and analyzing. 

But you couldn’t resist it.

You’d wanted to know for so long – even if there was nothing to know and it was something that just happened as things sometimes did – that even the late hour couldn’t stop you.

You didn’t want closure. Seven years have gone by – you didn’t want it.

You needed it.

“Can I ask you something?” you started, swallowing slowly.

“Of course,” Jungkook said, unsure why your face had clouded all of a sudden.

“It’s been seven years,” you said and the thunderclouds started to make sense. “Why did you talk to me that night at the party?”

The question was so loaded, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer it without reflecting on his entire life. But right now, after the night he’d had, you managed to catch him off guard and his mind was void of any answer that made sense.

���Because you were there,” he said because that was the simplest way of explaining it.

You needed more. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” he shifted his weight to his side until he was half-laying on your bed, his left shoulder pressed into the corner where your bed met the wall. His body was facing you but his eyes were on your hands, “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a very long time. Actually, since the day I told you we shouldn’t be talking anymore,” he paused here. He never learned how to talk about that without pausing. “Not a clever decision on my part.”

“Mm, no, not really,” you felt the bitterness in your voice as you said this but you didn’t try to justify it – and Jungkook didn’t need you to.

“Yeah,” he only nodded. “So, I don’t know. I saw an opportunity to talk to you again – and I was drunk, and sort of on a post-show high – so I took it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed but it sounded like only one half of an answer that you needed. Jungkook didn’t know how to explain the other half and he naively hoped he wouldn’t have to. “Timing, right?”

You weren’t sure if that was right. He could tell.

“You deserve a better answer,” he acknowledged, sighing heavily, “but I don’t want to lie and make up stories about how I’d been—I don’t know—bracing myself to talk to you for a long time, how I planned it all out, because that’s not true. I did want to talk to you, I’ve wanted to every day, but I probably never would have. Not if I wouldn’t have seen you right then and there, in front of me.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think I was in any position to seek you out,” he replied, “and, actually, I sort of got the feeling that you weren’t that excited to see me, either. Every time I saw you on campus, I’d blink, and you’d be on the other side of the street, already far away from me.”

Fair enough, you weren’t entirely blameless in this, either, you decided, and then admitted, “yeah. Maybe I was avoiding you a little.”

He chuckled. “I deserve that. I made the decision to… to stop talking to you and I knew I should have stuck with it.”

“Can I ask you something else, then?”

He knew what you were going to ask as he exhaled shakily and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make that decision?” you asked, unafraid of the potentially childish connotations in your voice. You just needed to know. You’d waited for this long enough. “Why did you decide to stop being friends with me?”

Even though he hadn’t answered you yet, just getting the question out of your system felt so relieving, it was as if Sisyphus had dropped his boulder on your chest seven years ago and now, at long last, you’d rolled it off.

The boulder seemed to roll off onto Jungkook, however, as he tried to open his mouth to speak several times, but always ended up closing it again. He didn’t know where to begin.

“We… we were so different back then,” he finally said. He looked at you then and there was hope in his eyes – he wanted you to understand him without any words. “Remember?”

“From right now?” you asked. You weren’t willing to try to decipher the signals his eyes were sending you. Right now, you needed him to use his words.

“From each other,” he clarified. “You were always so focused on your studies and spent so much time working with the school staff when you were in the student council, you were essentially the de facto headmaster of our school.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Right. And I was… well, you knew me then. I haven’t changed much.”

“The troublemaker,” you said and then, almost automatically, tried to make light of the situation because he looked like he was having a hard time and you didn’t want that. “Good thing there are no more PTA meeting in college, huh?”

Jungkook laughed at this but his laughter lacked humor.

“Yeah,” he said, not sounding wistful in the slightest. He wouldn’t go back to high school even if someone paid him to do it. “There’s still the risk of expulsion even without them. That never goes away in any institution.”

“It’s what brings you to life, though,” you said, your previous discussion returning to your mind. “You love the adrenaline, the danger of doing something that might have long-lasting repercussions. You always have.”

“And you don’t,” he said sadly. “That’s why I felt like—I didn’t want to—I was bad for you.”

Your loud heartbeat momentarily halted your ability to comprehend his words. “Hmm?”

“You probably don’t know this, but,” he hesitated on the very edge of what he knew you needed to hear, “I’d overheard my parents talk about us once, after our middle school graduation.”

There it was again. The last day of your middle school.

Thankfully, this time, the silence spell didn’t linger and Jungkook continued. Actually, this time, the spell didn’t even work on him – now that he’d decided to answer your question – now that he’d found how to answer it – he couldn’t be silenced.

“And the only thing I remember from their conversation,” he said, “is my mom – who’s been on my side for as long as I could remember, standing up for me to my teachers even when they believed I was a lost cause – saying to my dad that she was afraid I was going to be the end of you.”

“What?” you asked, perplexed.

After spending almost every day with Jungkook – and his family, too – for years, you hadn’t even considered that they may have been talking about you when you weren’t there.

“She, um… she saw something between us that we didn’t, I guess,” Jungkook continued as his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of your blanket, his eyes on the shredded fleece. “And she believed I would be the reason why you stopped working so hard. Why you lost your ambitions. She thought I’d turn you into someone entirely different.”

“But that’s—why would she—” all the questions you had tried to pour out of you at once.

“She saw how much we meant to each other and—”

“Yeah, but—” you cut him off and, closing your eyes for a moment to settle on just one of the many things you wished him to explain, you tried, “I mean, why couldn’t she have looked at it from a different perspective? I could have been the good influence that you needed in your life. Y-you said I was.”

“I thought you were. I still think you are. But, um…” Jungkook spoke to the fleece blanket because he couldn’t speak to you,  “she… she didn’t seem to think you had it in you to resist me.”

“Resist you?” you repeated, unexpectedly offended. But that only lasted for a second before you felt it necessary to disarm yourself and stop pretending. You were absolutely devoted to Jungkook when you were growing up. “Oh, fuck it,” you said. “She probably had a point.”

Jungkook was prepared to hear your offence. He was not prepared to hear that.

“She had?” he repeated, looking at you for the first time since he started talking.

You swallowed the ball in your throat. “Yeah.”

Shakily, Jungkook concluded, “so, I made the right choice, then.”

“By putting an end to our friendship?” you asked, suddenly aware of how cold your body seemed to be, your hands especially – and painfully so, too. Dancing with the ghosts of your past proved to be difficult. “Was that for my benefit, then?”

It wasn’t the disbelief in your voice that he focused on. It was the anger.

You’d moved on. He thought you moved on – you were still the same in almost every aspect that he remembered, but you were also so different: so mature, so determined, so certain.

And he was partially right – you clearly didn’t hold a very strong grudge. But he also felt ridiculous for assuming that, despite it being so long, you wouldn’t still be angry about this now.

You’d allowed him back into your life and blessed him by not asking him to explain himself for weeks before you finally gathered the courage to do it; it was natural for you to feel angry about something that you’d waited for for so long.

“That’s… well, it was supposed to be,” he explained and then felt the need to defend his decision by saying, “that’s how everyone seemed to see it. I didn’t want you to lose the best parts of yourself because of me. And I don’t doubt that your parents were also relieved when I was no longer such a prominent part of your life.”

You had considered the possibility that Jungkook ended your friendship per the request of his parents. But you had assumed they saw you as a threat to him – even if, in retrospective, that didn’t make a lot of sense; what threat could you have possibly posed to him or the company?

Instead, it was the other way around.

Looking down, you said, “my parents weren’t relieved.”

“They weren’t?” Jungkook repeated because he couldn’t find enough words of his own.

“No,” you confirmed, remembering the not-so-distant times when Jungkook’s name was a forbidden word at your dinner table. “Hardly any parent would feel relieved to see their child cry her eyes out for days.”

Admitting this made you feel vulnerable and it would have made you feel pathetic, too, if Jungkook didn’t immediately wince after you said this – not from pity, but from his own hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said because he had to, and because he was. And then, even though he didn’t have to, he continued, “I didn’t handle that well, either. I broke my leg in a bike accident about three weeks after we last talked.”

You frowned, focusing all of your energy into your confusion so your wet eyelashes wouldn’t release the droplets of tears down your cheeks. “Was that—”

“That’s how I deal with my emotions,” he said with a nod, confirming your guess. “That is, I don’t. I get reckless and I do stupid shit. That’s the last time I ever saw Dad’s beloved Ducati. He sold it.”

“He sold the bike?” you asked. The bike had belonged to Jungkook’s father who was a casual collector of sports cars and motorcycles – much to the joy of his underage son – but Jungkook was never permitted to drive any of them, at least, not until he was “old enough” according to his father’s standard.

“On the same day they ‘scraped my body off the pavement.’ That’s how he put it,” Jungkook said. “I only got to ride it that one time. Clearly, I’m not a natural. But dad couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to get on a bike for the first time without a helmet or any help at all. He wasn’t even looking for reasons why I did it, he didn’t ask me anything. Just sold the bike, locked up the garage, and didn’t talk to me for a week after I returned from the hospital. Actually—t-that was the first major thing that lead to me moving out of their house later on.”

You replayed his words for a long time, thinking and trying to understand.

“Why did you ask me to put this act? To play a couple for your parents?” you asked when you thought you were ready for the final cross on the last T. “If they thought you were a bad influence on me, this—seeing us back together again, could have painted you in the wrong light again.”

He didn’t think so.

“It’s been so long,” he said, “and you’re arguably the best student in your year. You’re determined and driven. And you’d rather kick my ass to the curb than give in to me and what I want. You… you affect me in ways I could never affect you. Control me in ways I could never control you. And I mean that in a good way. You are a good influence on me. And my parents can see that now.”

Obviously, he wasn’t entirely aware of how much control he still had over you, but because now you knew that this was precisely the reason why you’d stopped being friends seven years ago, you chose not to bring it up.

“I… I don’t control you,” you said.

“You do,” he disagreed. “Maybe not intentionally—actually, probably not; I’d like to think that you didn’t want me to suffer—but you do. You want to stay inside of your room, watching movies – and I want that, too. You want me to come to class and I want that, too. You want me to change and I’m changing.”

“I just—I don’t want you to kill yourself with your recklessness. But I don’t want you to be different,” you said, looking down. “I’d... always liked you the way you were.”

Your broken-up confession couldn’t have warmed his heart more. And yet, he had to point out, “I was unbearable.”

You gave him a look that wasn’t threatening at all because your eyes were still glossy from the tears.

“I know,” you said.

He smiled in spite of himself. “And you still liked me that way?”

You nodded, not saying anything else because he already knew the answer to that—and every other—question.

“I’m sorry for these seven years,” Jungkook said then and maybe that wasn’t enough to cure the wounds the years had left but it was a start. “You had a future ahead of you and I didn’t. My parents could see that but there was little they could do. I had to understand and deal with the fact that I was going to fall off the rails sooner or later myself. I was fourteen and I had to understand that. And I did. I knew that. And I also knew I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You didn’t deserve that.”

You fell into silence again.

You knew you wouldn’t have walked away from him then – anything he’d have asked, you would have given him. Any cliff he would have jumped off of – you would have followed.

To realize that Jungkook didn’t let you go because he didn’t want to be your friend anymore, or because he got tired of you, or because he didn’t care about you anymore -- or because of any other reason you tried to find over the years -- but rather, he let you go because he knew you wouldn’t, was groundbreaking.

It didn’t fix the hurt, it didn’t make it better, and, perhaps, nothing would – the years have gone by and you couldn’t get them back – but now you knew that the end of your friendship was a sacrifice of sorts.

You were intertwined together – it was you-and-him, always you-and-him – and you were comfortable living this way, both of you were. But that wasn’t right. It wasn’t healthy.

Except, you weren’t the one who had her eyes opened seven years ago – if there was no you and him, there could never be you-and-him – and so Jungkook ended up having to break out of your comfort zone, to leave your sanctuary, and walk in a different direction. On a different road.

All so you could have a road for yourself.

“I’m…” you tried to say but the tears that had welled up in your eyes were now cascading down your face and Jungkook – alert as soon as he saw that you were crying – sat up straight. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. Thank you for telling me.”

“I… you’re welcome,” he said, wanting to reach out and wipe the tears away but watching you do it yourself. “Although, I wish I didn’t have to tell you anything. Not just because I don’t want you to think about my mom differently after this—she always wanted what’s best for you, we both did—but also because I… I wish there had been a different way. A way where we could have kept in touch and still remained individuals.”

“Maybe there was no such way at the time,” you said. “We’d been close from the day we were born. Maybe we needed to spend some time apart to learn how to be ourselves.”

“Maybe,” he agreed but he didn’t think that was fair. “We were too close.”

“We were,” you said and couldn’t help sniffling; the tears have started to block your breathing. “Sorry, I just—it didn’t have to be seven years. I-I mean, it doesn’t take that long for people to mature.”

“No. It didn’t have to be,” Jungkook said but the fact that he agreed with you didn’t bring you much joy because his words were sad. “I have no excuse for that.”

Knowing that you could have been setting yourself up for more heartache, you still dared to ask, “would you have talked to me sooner if I hadn’t been avoiding you?”

“Probably,” he said, afraid to look at you in case he’d lose control of himself at the sight of your tears. “I-I couldn’t resist myself. But would you have replied to me?”

You looked down, making it easier for another tear to trail down your cheek. “I did that night at the party.”

Jungkook bit his lip. “Would I have seen you again if I hadn’t crashed my car?”

You inhaled sharply, not liking that this was what it came to. “No. Probably not.”

“It didn’t have to be seven years,” he said again, nodding thoughtfully, “but I think that we… started to talk again right when we had to. When it was time.”

You didn’t like that, either. “That can’t be true.”

“We’ll never know what’s true,” he said, leaning in closer to you but still not daring to reach out and touch you. “But it’s been long enough.”

“It has been,” you said, nodding and, feeling more tears coming. You sniffled, throwing your head back to fight the crying, and excused your emotions again, “it’s been a long day. It’s been seven long years.”

It’s been a long life; but you didn’t think of your years as his best friend to be draining. If anything, these were the years that made you feel alive: both of your families so close, it was like you grew up with two sets of parents, and with a soulmate for a best friend.

It’s what happened next that was a task.

Life had been pouring out in every shade of color around you when you knew him, when you laughed with him. And when you didn’t, you had to physically strain yourself to see the world in anything other than black-and-white.

You’d worked so hard to get used to the darkness of your life that the explosion of the color spectrum when you finally got to laugh with him again was almost painful. You’d grown so accustomed to monochrome that seeing colors all over again felt scary. Dangerous. Potentially hurtful.

But now you knew he never meant to take the colors out of your life. By doing so, he ended up having to sacrifice his own brightness. His own light.

Maybe what hurt the most right now wasn’t the memory of the years that you’d spent without talking, but rather the pointlessness of it all because here you were again: together. Affecting each other in ways ordinary people should not have been allowed to affect one another.

“Come here,” Jungkook finally asked, extending his arms, but you shook your head, not wanting to admit to how big the hurricane cloud in your chest was. “Come here, please.”

The insistence of his tone wasn’t what got you to move closer in the end – it was the pain in his eyes.

This had hurt him, too. He was the one who had to find a different way so he wouldn’t have to end your friendship. He was the one who eventually failed and had to say goodbye – stone you so you’d run away. Wound you, so you wouldn’t come back.

It would have hurt your pride if you didn’t love him so much.

And he couldn’t find it in himself to say how much he wanted you to come back after he told you to leave; how much he agonized over your phone number – which he’d deleted off his phone only to realize that he knew it by heart – and how much he wished he was different—better—so he wouldn’t have to stay away from you. He couldn’t find the words.

So, he just held you – like it was the first and the last time he was ever going to hold you. And he hoped that this would be enough for you to know that he knew you loved him. He’d always known.

And he loved you, too.

“I’ve missed you. Everything about you,” he whispered, clutching your body tightly against his own and sinking his face into your hair. “So much.”

Your hair grew wet – you could feel the pain leave his heart in tears – and, even though you’d seen him cry before, you’d never cried with him. But it felt inevitable now – like everything you’d done together in the past few weeks was only the prologue and tonight you were turning the page, you were starting the first chapter of the rest of your lives.

It hurt because of how long the prologue was. It hurt because of the seven empty pages.

But it felt so relieving to reach the end. So freeing.

You wrapped your arms around him tighter because you were ready to work on letting go of the pain, and you were ready to move on, and you were so happy to have him with you. You didn’t know what awaited you after tonight but that scared you much less than all that you’d already survived.

“If history repeats itself,” you said, your nose stuffed from the crying, “we’ll find a different way, right?”

Jungkook considered pulling away when you said this but that didn’t seem right. Not holding you when he could, didn’t seem right.

“We will,” he said into your hair. “I’m not leaving again.”

And he meant it – in the long run, at least. Because this night was coming to an end.

Your laptop – and the movie you didn’t get to watch – was long abandoned as you and Jungkook sat on your bed, your legs crossed and hearts open, and you talked.

You talked and the seven empty pages filled. The filled with words, written in different fonts with different colors, but they filled.

You talked and your bodies grew tired even if your minds didn’t, so you lied down on your backs next to each other, the white concrete ceiling painting itself in the colors of all that you’d missed about each other.

You talked and the hours went by – minute by minute, morning was creeping up on you.

“It’s late,” Jungkook said when your room got so dark, he couldn’t make out which bits of skin, glistening in the pale light from the street lamps outside, were yours and which were his. But even so, he remained on his back next to you. “I should probably go home. Maybe we can watch a movie tomorrow? Or next week?”

“I… I don’t have plans tomorrow,” you said and you wanted this night to keep going so badly, that if you’d been Faust, your soul would have gone straight to hell: beautiful moment, do not pass away! “Will the party be over now?”

“No, probably not yet,” Jungkook replied, “won’t be the first time I’ll be woken up by someone drunkenly smashing a bottle or something,” he said and then, when you bit your lip, clearly concerned, he added, “it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Then, because you were not Faust and the devil had not chained your soul to the pits of hell just yet, you found a way to stop the moment as you said, “you could stay here.”

“Hmm?” Jungkook turned his head to look at you, unsure if he understood your offer. “H-how do you mean?”

“Just… stay here,” you said with a shrug as if it was that simple. Your eyes remained on the ceiling. “The RA didn’t see you come in with me. And, usually, no one smashes anything in the middle of the night here.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again. He didn’t want to go – but just like he did before coming inside earlier tonight, he didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for; God knew you’d already done so much for him.

But you assured him, “yeah. You didn’t want me walking home alone, well, maybe I don’t want you stumbling around at 3 AM, either. You’d already had one fight today.”

“It’s, uh,” he checked his phone, “four-thirty.”

You gave him a look.

“But your concern is understandable,” he added quickly, catching on, “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable with you here.”

“Okay,” he said, your gazes so intensely focused on each other, both of you were almost paralyzed as you lied side by side.

“Yeah?” you asked. “So, you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay if you let me.”

You turned to your side, facing him. Your eyes never left his, just like his did not stray from yours. You even seemed to blink in unison.

“Stay,” you said. “I’m letting you.”

He turned to his side as well and, as his eyes fell to your lips – he could have touched them with his own if he dared to move a little bit closer – you knew you would have allowed him do a lot more than just stay here for a night.

But you’ve come a long way tonight, both literally – when you walked back here from the party – and figuratively – when you scratched the wounds until they bled because there was no other way for them to heal properly – and maybe that was enough for one night.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook whispered because you’d walked so much tonight but your road hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t dare to touch you.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back because just having him here with you after so long felt enough right now. You didn’t have to to touch him.

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[edie-k]

Greener Pastures (Lavender Brown/Mystery Character, Romione, Hinny, Deamus, PG-13)

Title: Greener Pastures

Pairing: Lavender Brown/Mystery Character, Romione, Hinny, Deamus, Past Lavender/Ron, Past Lavender/Seamus

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: At Harry and Ginny's engagement party, Lavender bemoans her single status to a mystery man.

Author's Note: Well, here's an obscure ship for you. Thanks to @adenei for her feedback and kind words!

*************

“I think that proves that for all the complaining I’ve done, Harry, I mean it when I say you are the only one I thought was good enough for my sister,” Ron said from the front of the room, to a chorus of laughter. “So let’s raise a glass to the newly engaged couple!”

From her seat at the bar, Lavender made a face and threw back the remaining contents of her tumblr. Parvati, who was seated next to her, joined the crowd in applauding and cheering Harry and Ginny.

Click below to read more or read at AO3

“That was a nice speech,” commented Parvati.

“Oh, just the best,” muttered Lavender, trying to catch the bartender’s eye.

Parvati shook her head. “I just spotted Adam’s sister. I wanted to ask her about what the expectations are for dress code and stuff at his grandmother’s. All Adam said when I asked him was ‘Whatever’s fine.’ We’re going abroad to meet an entire side of your family I have never met in all the time we’ve been together and you’re telling me whatever is fine.”

“Mmm hmm,” Lavender said, still trying to signal for a drink.

“Are you going to be okay if I-”

“Yes, yes,” said Lavender, sighing. “I’m fine. Sorry if I’m being a drag. Just… that news earlier and then all this… happiness. Go get the dish from Mara so we can go shopping tomorrow.”

Parvati squeezed her friend’s arm before hopping off the stool and wading through the crowd to find Mara. The bartender finally made his way over to her and began to mix her another drink without a word.

At least Adam was out of town on business for the weekend so Lavender didn’t have to third wheel with her best friend and her boyfriend. Because that would have been the only thing more depressing than going to an engagement party with your platonic best friend.

The bartender nudged the glass back to her and she nodded her head in thanks as he made his way back down the bar.

“Is this seat taken?”

Lavender glanced up and met the gaze of a man she’d never seen before.

“Uh, no, be my guest,” she said. “Although be warned that I am shitty company.”

The man chuckled as he sat down on the stool. “I highly doubt that but I’m game to find out.”

Lavender looked at him again. She didn’t recognize him, which was shocking because even though the venue was full, Lavender had thought she would know everyone here. Harry and Ginny were obviously incredibly popular so they had kept tight controls on who was included on the guest list.

The man signaled for the bartender and Lavender took the opportunity to give him a once over. The guy was huge - not in an overweight or bodybuilder type way. He was just tall and solid. Other than her first boyfriend, her preference was tall guys. She was 5”8’ herself and preferred to wear heels when she could so aesthetically, it was nice for her companion to have some height. Nice eyes, cute face. He had dark blond hair and was dressed in a dark blue Muggle button down shirt and black trousers with no robes. Since the war had ended, Muggle style had become popular with the wizards in her age group. Harry, who was raised by Muggles, was always more comfortable in that style of clothing and Ron, who she knew was dressed primarily by Hermione and Hermione’s mum, followed suit. And whatever that little Trio did, everyone else did and for Merlin’s sake, Ron Weasley was now a fucking fashion icon. Lavender took a big swig of her drink.

“It’s a nice party,” said the man. Lavender nodded as the bartender approached. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

The bartender made another drink before placing it in front of the man. He went to reach for his pocket when Lavender noticed a look of panic cross his face. Before she could say anything, the bartender waved him away. “Mr. Potter has the tab covered tonight.”

“Well,” he said, his face relaxed again. He turned back to Lavender. “Should we follow Red’s instructions and toast the happy couple?” The two clinked glasses. “It was a nice speech.”

Lavender snorted.

“You disagree?”

“I’d have thought his wife wrote it for him but there was too much swearing for her to have had a hand,” Lavender said. Then she wiped the palms of her hands down her face. “Ugh, ignore me. It actually was a very touching and funny speech. I’m just in an ugly mood and I have a bit of a history with Ron so I’m being mean for no reason.”

“You dated him?” the man guessed. She nodded. “Huh, he said in the speech that he’d loved his wife since he was 13.”

“And I dated him when we were 16 so…”

“Hence the ugliness,” finished the man.

“Hence the ugliness,” Lavender repeated. “I’m over it, really. Hermione and I shared a room for six years and are better friends now than we ever were at school. As for Ron, that was just some stupid school kid bullshit on both our parts. It’s more that I didn’t realize that my only opportunity to find love was going to be at Hogwarts. If I had known that, I’d have made better choices or… maybe taken Arithmancy to secure a better paying job to support my lonely life.”

“What do you mean?” the man asked.

“Everyone I know, they’re married or engaged or about to be engaged to the person that they dated at Hogwarts. Harry and Ginny dated at school, Neville and Hannah somehow started to date during our last year during the war. My best friend Parvati and her boyfriend dated our sixth year at Hogwarts and then he fled with his Muggle family overseas but they started right back up again when he came back to England. See that girl over there, the pregnant one?”

The man nodded.

“That’s Parvati’s sister. That’s her second kid cooking. She’s married to her prefect partner, Anthony. I guess technically, Ron and Hermione didn’t date at Hogwarts but -”

“He’s loved her since he was 13,” the man said amused.

“Yeah. I’m the only one that couldn’t make it out with a relationship intact.” she moaned, taking another drink.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Lavender took another long drink and contemplated his statement. “You know what? You’re right. Ginny, she also had a relationship that didn’t work out. Do you see that tall bloke over in the corner that she’s talking to?”

The man glanced in the direction Lavender was referring to. “Uh, yeah.”

“That’s Dean. He was the guy that Ginny dated before Harry. Now, do you see that cute little Irishman standing next to Dean?”

The man nodded.

“That’s Seamus. He was my ex-boyfriend before Ron. And now he’s Dean’s husband. Met in school, by the way.”

“Oh,” said the man, taken aback.

Lavender narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a problem with that? Because despite the fact that Seamus is just one more example of my inability to keep a boyfriend, I will defend those men and their amazing relationship to the death from any bigot that threatens it.”

“No, no!” the man sputtered. “I’m just… I went to an all-boys school and I knew gay guys but they all hid it and I’m just not used to people being open about it. It’s fine - more than fine. Good for them! I mean, hey, they found each other and are leaving more beautiful women for the rest of us, right?”

“Merlin, I wish I could find a beautiful woman,” Lavender moaned, burying her face in her hands. The bartender seemed to take this as a signal that she needed another drink and provided her with a refill.

“Oh, are you… interested in women?” she heard him ask.

“No,” she moaned. “You must think I’m insane.” Lavender put both her hands on the man’s arm that was closest to her. “I promise that I am not hung up on some school romance from five years ago. It’s just that, if you knew Seamus or Ron at Hogwarts… did you know Seamus or Ron at Hogwarts?”

The man shook his head.

“Okay, so if you knew them, you would know that they were both totally immature prats. After I broke up with Seamus, I thought he was the worst boyfriend ever. He was always running off to spend time with his mates, talking about Quidditch, no interest in spending time with me, dumb jokes. But then, then I dated Ron, who was even worse than him. The only thing he wanted to do with me was snog and I think that was some weird power move with Hermione or his sister… who knows. I have to be way more drunk to psychoanalyze Ron Weasley. Anyway, the last month we were together, he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he wanted to ditch me for Hermione but was just too much of a coward. And yet somehow, both of those idiots ended up married before me! And it’s not like they got married to some random person that they knocked up after a one night stand. Ron eloped with his wonderful, talented, brilliant best friend that he was in love with all through school and the entire time we were dating and Seamus… oh for Godric’s sake.”

Lavender paused in her tirade for a moment. “Seamus also married his wonderful, talented, brilliant best friend that he was probably in love with all through school AND the entire time we were dating. How am I just realizing that?” Lavender groaned, banging her head on the bar.

“Can wizards knock up other wizards?” asked the man. Lavender looked up at him and burst into laughter.

“Oh, thank you for that,” she giggled. “I was spiralling.”

“Uh, yeah, no worries,” said the man, shifting in his seat.

“It’s just that this dating stuff is really hard. The wizarding world is so small, you know? I think it’s why everyone locks in with their soulmate at school, ” Lavender commiserated.

“Have you ever considered dating like, outside the wizarding world?” the man asked.

Lavender shook her head. “How could I? It’s tough enough here. After all the Prophet spotlights on battle injuries and such, everyone knows how I got all these awful scars on my face but it still takes a certain type of man to look past them. And I’m sure there are Muggles that aren't shallow about them either but they would ask how I got them. How would I explain them to a Muggle? I can’t just say ‘Oh during a war at my school, a werewolf tried to rip me to shreds. But don’t worry, I’m not a werewolf although I have some side effects from it.’ They’d think I was insane.”

“Uh, yeah, that does sound a bit… daunting,” the man admitted, looking a bit pale.

“I mean, I’m still a catch. I’m funny, I have a great rack, I make excellent scones, and I’m amazing in bed.” At that comment, she heard the man next to her choke a little and she stifled a smile to continue on. “And even if I could get away with not explaining it to a man, once I meet his family, there’s no way. In my experience, mothers are always trying to find a reason to hate the woman that’s dating their special baby boy. I can’t imagine a Muggle mother taking very kindly to a literal witch with werewolf scars.”

“Yes,” sighed the man before giving a little chuckle. “I can certainly see that. And with all of the, you know, war stuff, I can see where you wish you had a school sweetheart.”

Lavender shook her head and drained the rest of her drink. “Seamus and Ron are just easy targets. I really am not hung up on them. This is about Don.”

“Who’s Don?”

“Don is my last boyfriend. We dated exclusively for eight months and he was so fun and thoughtful and generous. But he never said I love you. He kept telling me that he was too young to settle down and, I believed that he thought that. I really did. So we split in December because we wanted different things.”

“Ah,” said the man. “Seems sensible.”

“And then this morning, I see it in The Daily Prophet.”

“See what?”

“His engagement announcement,” she wailed, throwing herself on the bar again and almost upsetting her glass.

The man patted her on the shoulder. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know how long they’ve been dating?” Lavender asked.

“Eight months?” ventured the man.

“FIVE!” Lavender cried.

“Maybe he knocked her up?” suggested the man.

Lavender looked up at him and burst into laughter again. “Merlin, you’re funny. Why am I whinging about all these dolts I’ve surrounded myself with when I should get to know you better?”

“Yeah?” said the man with a grin.

“Yes,” she said. “I mean, if you want-”

“Of course,” he interrupted. “A funny, beautiful woman wants to get to know me better - the answer is always yes. I do need a refill. Do you want one? You’re not driving home, are you?”

Lavender giggled.

The man shook his head and looked embarrassed. “Oh, right, you wouldn’t be driving. You would uh - ”

“You must be a Muggle born. Do- I mean, I’ve heard others say that before. Those habits die hard.”

“Actually,” the man took a deep breath. “I’m a Muggle.”

Lavender’s jaw dropped. “How the fuck does a Muggle get invited to the engagement party of the Chosen One and a pureblood Quidditch player?”

“Well, Harry’s my cousin,” the man said. “My name’s Dudley.”

***************

“Do you see that over there?” asked Hermione, nudging Ron. He turned away from his conversation with Neville and Charlie to see what his wife was gesturing to across the room.

“Is that Dudley Dursley chatting up Lavender?” Ron asked, as his eyes landed on the sight before him.

“It appears to be,” said Hermione. “Merlin, they are really flirting. Should we go over there and say something? A warning or...?”

“Right,” said Ron. “Absolutely we should. Which one of them are we warning?”