#i feel like the emojis look more like... attached to the phrase than they should be? it's still just two emojis to represent the two chars

[accirax]

😱3 days left until DRDT Chapter 2 continues!💘

[yslkook]

IF I GOT YOU (7)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: one month later...and things start to come to a head. you feel more at peace than you've ever felt, but as usual, what remains peaceful is always interrupted.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, HELLA HELLA toxic friendship and dynamics, suggestive content (hooking up and other mentions)

word count: 4066

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts

Despite a month going by from the last time you spoke to Jungkook in the park and put all of your feelings out in the open, spring air, you feel lighter than ever. Maybe most of that has to do with the simple fact that you’ve finally cut out a toxic, deadweight from your life. Regardless of what ends up happening with you and Jungkook as friends or more than that, at least you are at peace and happy with being yourself.

Besides, it’s not like you don’t ever see him. You see him when you visit the tattoo parlor (but you haven’t allowed yourself to be alone with him and he hasn’t initiated), you’ve seen him at impromptu nights out, at Yoongi’s apartment. Neither of you allow yourself to be alone with each other, since you had both agreed to wait. Even your text message thread with him is dry, though.

You miss him, hoping that a notification of his name with the bunny emoji attached to it flashes across the screen. But it doesn’t.

For all of his bravado, he feels somewhat shy around you on the few occasions that he’s seen you. Jungkook will go out of his way to avoid you, hiding (as much as he can) behind Mina and Mei.

He misses you. Jungkook misses the feel of your lips molding against his, the way you felt in his arms, but most of all he misses your shy smile and your loud laugh. He misses the way your eyes shine when you speak about something you’re passionate about.

Mina had said you were both being stupid, taking time away from each other when you both are denying the inevitable. But it made sense in your mind and his. You want to know what kind of person you were without the burden of Sora’s judgment weighing heavily in every frame of your life. You take the time you need to take to recenter yourself and feel somewhat whole again.

It doesn’t take you long to adjust to life without a former best friend. You quickly begin to notice how different you feel, how differently you approach basic things that you hadn’t really put much thought to before.

It feels so refreshing to not feel like you’re walking in some metaphorical shadow of someone who didn’t really care about you. Well, you think on some level, she did care. But along with the insignificant way she made you feel, it’s not enough to justify it. And you’re really grateful that you don’t need to anymore.

In fact, you’ve already deleted most pictures with her on your social medias. You haven’t quite been able to block her yet, but you think you’ll be ready to do that soon enough.

The ever elusive notion of time really does seem to heal nearly all forms of hurt.

“So,” Yoongi starts, sitting next to you on his new black leather couch and handing you a glass of red wine.

“Don’t start with me,” You say, poking his shoulder.

“I’m not starting anything with you,” Yoongi shrugs, but his eyes twinkle.

“Oh? That’s the voice you use when you have gossip or when you’re about to interrogate me,” You mutter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile.

“Maybe it’s a little of both,” Hobi chimes in, sitting on your other side. He leans back and drapes his legs over your lap, to which you instantly rest your hands over his legs.

“How lucky for me,” You mumble, taking a long swig of your wine. You’ll need it.

“How’s that witch doing,” Yoongi asks bluntly.

“I don’t know, I told you I cut her off and kicked her out of my house like a month ago,” You reply, “Did you forget already?”

“No, I just like hearing that you finally came to your fucking senses,” Yoongi says, “She was awful, but I’ll commend you for sticking it out for this long. Cheers, the witch is finally gone-”

“I believe the phrase is, ‘ding dong, the witch is dead’, but this will suffice,” Hobi says and yelps when you swat his shoulder.

“Don’t be rude,” You say, “But… thank you for helping me see the light. Even if it took a while. And I’m sorry it affected our friendship, too.”

“Ah, well, we’re all here now,” Hobi says, pulling you in for a side hug.

“Yeah. So cheers,” Yoongi says again, raising his glass to you both, “Cheers to you for choosing yourself. And to new beginnings.”

“You’ll make me cry,” You say honestly, offering your friends a watery smile.

“As if we’ve never seen you cry before,” Hobi scoffs. And it’s true- they are two of your oldest friends, and even if you’ve come to the realization that maybe you hadn’t been the greatest friend to them… That bond is hard to sever, and you’re grateful that they’ve always had your back.

“Drink up,” You say with a smile, “Cheers to new beginnings.”

Yoongi has always been a little sly, unassuming but always with several tricks up his sleeve. When he so desires to cause a little mischief and stir the pot a little. And Hobi is all too happy to engage.

Which is how you end up several glasses of red wine and rose deep (yes, you mixed, rookie mistake but who cares. You’re in the presence of some of your greatest friends, after all).

And then Yoongi goes in for the kill.

“How’s our Jungkookie,” He asks, without missing a beat. You choke on your wine and wince when it somehow gets lodged in your nose.

“I don’t know. Think he’s good,” You finally respond, your words sounding slurred, “Ask Hobi. They work together, if you didn’t know.”

“Oh, thanks for the information. I had no idea.”

“Happy to be of service,” You say, leaning into Hobi's side, “Ikindofmisshim.”

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch that,” Yoongi says, a self-satisfied smirk blooming on his lips. He heard you, of course he did, but you don’t seem to pick up on it.

“I said I kind of miss him,” You reply, a dreamy look in your eyes, “Do you think he misses me, too?”

Hobi chokes back a laugh but you hear it and offer him a glare. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Nobody’s making fun of you, stupid,” Yoongi says poking your forehead, “And yeah. Your man doesn’t shut up about you. Always with those eyes around you.”

“He’s not my man,” You whine pathetically.

“Yeah, that’s a mystery to both of us,” Hobi says, “How long are you both gonna keep this up?”

“Keep what up?”

“This weird awkward dance you both do around each other. Avoiding each other when we’re all together. It’s kinda funny, like we all know you both wanna fuck so bad-”

“Shut up! That’s- that’s not- shut up!”

Yoongi and Hoseok both burst into laughter, drunken giggles loud in the living room and you can’t help but laugh with them.

Clubs were never your most favorite place to unwind, but you make an exception for tonight. For Mina and Mei, you’ll make an exception. The three of you had gotten ready together in Mei’s home, in between sips of cocktails that she had poured out. Mina had done your makeup for you, giving you the sharpest eyeliner you’ve ever seen on your eyelids as well as a bold red lipstick.

It’s not a club night if there is no red lipstick involved, after all.

Your makeup usually looks good when you apply it yourself, but Mina has a genuine eye and skill for makeup artistry. You recall her telling you that she’d always dreamed of going to beauty school but hadn’t pursued it. You had told her that it’s never too late to fulfill a dream and she had only smiled at you.

“Hey,” You say, “Is Jimin coming tonight? How’d your date last week go?”

“It was really good,” Mina says, something sweet in her voice, “He made me dinner and dessert. And then I sucked his soul from his cock an hour later and he even made me squirt. And yeah, he’s coming tonight to the club. We’ll see what happens...”

“Wow,” You nod, listening with wide eyes, “That sounds amazing. I’m really happy things are going well for you both. Including the horny stuff.”

“The horny stuff?” Mei laughs, “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” You say, playfully shoving her shoulder, “It’s no joking matter that he made you squirt.”

“Yeah, I high fived him after,” Mina says slyly, “It was… a night. Can’t wait to have another night like that. But I’m gonna make him work for it tonight.”

“As you should,” You nod solemnly, “What about you Mei? Are we drinking until we blackout or are you playing hard to get with Seulgi?”

“Who says we can’t do both?” Comes Mei’s muffled response.

“Cheers to that,” You reply, “Are… Jimin’s roommates coming?”

“You think you’re slick, huh?” Mina snorts, “You wondering about Jungkook?”

“N-no, I haven’t seen Taehyung in a while either-”

“Tae’s coming, but Jungkook isn’t. Something about having a long week and wanting to chill at home.”

“Oh, gotcha,” You say, cheeks ablaze as you avoid her eyes. Unable to hold the slight sting of disappointment from your voice.

Mina and Mei see right through it but they say nothing, only handing you a refill of your now empty glass.

Despite the relatively steady stream of drinks in your hand (an illusion, really, you’ve been nursing the same two drinks all night), you’re almost completely sober. In fact, you’re more tired than anything else. It seems that Jungkook had the right idea to stay home tonight. You’re rather benignly jealous of his decision.

You enjoy dancing and singing with your friends, feeling the thrum and excitement of music and your close companions bursting through your veins.But environments like this overwhelm you sometimes. All of the flashing lights, sometimes smoke and all of the people… Tonight seems to be one of those nights.

“Wanna dance?” Comes a rich, velvety voice behind you to the right. It’s Taehyung, and you’d rather dance with Taehyung than anyone else in this club. With the exception being Jungkook, but he’s not here right now.

“Okay,” You nod, taking his hand when he offers it to you. Your thoughts flit to Jungkook briefly.

Taehyung is good company, always keeping you with a smile on your face and filling you up with laughter. He keeps you close with easy, gentle movements as you both belt out the words to whatever song is playing on the speakers. But Taehyung has always been observant.

“You don’t really wanna be here, huh? I’d take it personally, if I didn’t know you,” Taehyung teases.

“No, it’s not that,” You murmur, “Just have never been a big club goer, that’s all. Jungkook had the right idea in staying home.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung muses, “What are you two doing?”

He’s almost as blunt as Yoongi (who’s also in some corner of the club. Usually, he keeps you company at things like this, but conveniently, he’s nowhere to be found.).

“If I knew I was going to be interrogated in this club, I would’ve drank more,” You say dryly. Taehyung laughs at that and squeezes your shoulder.

“You both deserve to be happy. Just want you to know that.”

“Thanks, Tae,” You say, a grin spreading across your face, “I guess you’re not as sleazy as Mina says you are-”

“Me? Sleazy?” Taehyung gasps, pretending to be affronted. You roll your eyes and offer him your hand.

“Wanna dance?”

Taehyung turns you around and holds your hips tightly in his hands, dancing with you to the beat of the music. It’s nice to be held like this, even if it’s a little dirty.

You don’t notice a pair of sly eyes watching you from across the club.

By the time you excuse yourself to catch a breath and grab some water from the bar, you realize that most of your friends are off doing their own thing. It gives you a second to people watch from the second floor of the curb and lean on the railings, taking in your surroundings. Despite stifling a yawn.

You relish in the cool feel of the icy water flooding your senses, waking you up a little more. You wonder if you can convince Yoongi to take you to get fries or tacos after the night ends. At the thought of tacos, you salivate a little.

But your taco fueled fantasies are broken when a few girls try to push past you to get to the bar. You mumble a soft apology, but it goes unheard. The unmistakable sound of a voice, a voice that you’ve only recently been able to put out of your mind, breaks through the barrier and it makes your heart drop.

It’s an angry call of your name. Your stomach churns, and suddenly you’ve never wanted to learn the art of teleportation more.

Sora, in all her bitter glory, stands in front of you with a full drink in her hands. Beside her are two of her friends, looking resigned and trying to plead with her that they should go.

“Missed me so much that you followed me here, huh?” Sora sneers.

“I’m not even going to entertain that with a response. Or you for that matter,” You say tiredly, trying to step past her.

“All your friends left you. Look at you all alone,” She says and you roll your eyes with a dry laugh.

“I’d rather be alone than have anything to do with you, Sora,” You reply easily, “I’m leaving now-”

But she sidesteps you again, gripping your forearm and looking at you with so much animosity that it makes your skin crawl. Had she always looked at you like that?

“I can’t believe you just dropped me like nothing. After I gave you everything,” Sora says, as if you had said nothing at all. She’s clearly a little drunk, telltale signs of her drunkenness clear on her face. Her words are slurred and she stumbles a little on her feet. You cringe. You don’t want to have this conversation with her whether she’s sober or drunk.

“You treated me like I was nothing,” You snap, “I don’t want to discuss this with you. Now let me go.”

“Or what? There’s nobody here ‘cept you and me, babe,” She says, her lips twisting into a cruel smirk. Her friends have disappeared and warning bells start to go off in your head. She’s right, all of your friends have dispersed. But you manage to fish your phone out of your purse while she rambles to you and send a text to the groupchat, simply stating “pls help, Sora is here”.

Dread seeps into your pores. You just want to be done with her presence.

“Sora, just let me go. Nothing you say will change anything,” You say heatedly, “Fucking let go of me!”

You try to yank your arm out of her grip but her nails are sharp against your skin.

“I loved you, you know that? I fucking gave you everything, you were my best friend,” Sora hisses, “I just wanted to you be happy. To see that I’d do anything for you.”

It takes a minute for the dust to settle but you suddenly begin to understand. “You hurt me! That’s not friendship or l-love, or anything remotely close to it. Nothing you say will change that. I don’t want you around anymore. Take a hint, Sora,” Your voice is cold and deadly, nothing like what Sora is accustomed to.

“Please, let me go,” You beg softly, “Why won’t you let me go?”

Tears spring into your eyes, both from the force she’s holding you with and from how much this is exhausting you.

“What does he have that’s worth all of this?” Sora hisses.

“It doesn’t matter what he has. I like him and I enjoy spending time with him, that’s all that should matter, and I’m not explaining Jungkook to you,” You say coldly, “You lost the right to know a long time ago. If you took your head out of your ass for two seconds, you’d know that this friendship was over months ago.”

By now, both of your voices have raised in volume and pitch, attracting the attention of bystanders. This makes no sense to you, your head is starting to hurt from the implications of her words. You just want to go home. By now, Yoongi has seen your text and is trying to get to the bar to rescue you from Sora.

“He won’t give you what you need,” Sora exclaims.

“Shut up! Just fucking stop talking about him,” You shout, “I’m so fucking sick of this, just leave me the fuck alone. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore, just drop it!”

You feel the need to defend him though, “He’s kind, he has a big heart a-and, you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just fucking drop it! Leave me alone!”

“You are so fucking blind! You’ve always been such an oblivious fucking bitch,” She screams at you and your blood goes cold. You’ve seen her angry, but not like this not when her eyes are blown over with rage.

Yoongi’s heart is beating in his ears as he tries to find you- this club is fucking huge, where the hell could you be? He’s already sent a text to Jungkook, telling him that you might be in trouble at the club and that nobody could find you.

“Where is he then? If he’s so kind, he must be here right?”

“What the fuck is your problem? You’ve always had a stick up your ass about him specifically- I mean you’ve always have a stick up your ass, but with him it’s like something crawled up there and died-”

“You couldn’t even cuff him? You dropped me for him and you didn’t even cuff him?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“What are you afraid of, babe?” She sneers cruelly, “Afraid he’ll find something he doesn’t like? Or are you afraid you’ll find something that you don’t like?”

Frustration and hurt boils in your belly, causing wetness to pool in your eyes. You shut your eyes tightly, willing the feeling to go away. With all of the calmness you can muster, you throw her hand off of you and rub your forearm gingerly.

Before you can say anything, her eyes narrow to slits. You don’t even have time to react before you feel a sudden wetness drench the front of your top. Remnants of her drink are splashed on your torso and you gasp, rage flaring through your veins once more. How dare she throw her drink at you? Before you can do anything though, a pair of arms circle your waist and you’re pulled into a strong chest.

You recognize the scent of his cologne immediately and the feel of his leather jacket. “Jungkook,” You mumble, looking up at him. He immediately gives you his jacket and pushes it through your arms wordlessly.

“Hi,” He murmurs, taking in your wide, nervous eyes and the trembling of your hands. He brushes a thumb over your cheek before standing in front of you and you take his hand in yours. Jungkook squeezes reassuringly.

He offers Sora a long, hard look and a shake of his head. She almost balks at his intense gaze. Almost.

“C’mon baby,” Jungkook finally says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“My knight in shining arm-” You shiver once you’re both outside the club, away from the eyes of strangers. You cut your train of thought off when he pulls you close to him, cupping your cheeks with both hands. Worry dots his eyes and he presses his forehead to yours shakily.

“Jungkook?” You say softly, “Is everything-”

He exhales, a shudder felt against your skin. He seems to be at odds with himself, an internal battle dancing in his dark eyes. But Jungkook makes up his mind and cradles your face again, the gentle pads of his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“I missed you,” Jungkook croaks, “Shit, I miss you so fucking much. Can I kiss you, baby? Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You nod instantly, breathing out a soft ‘yes’. Whatever this recent development means for both of you, it makes sense. You want this and you want him.

And then he kisses you as if it was meant to be, as if he’s been thinking about your lips every minute of every day- soft, balmy lips against your chapped, red lips. Jungkook swallows your gasp, somehow brushing against the parts of your heart that missed him. His kiss is sweet and desperate as his tongue traces over your teeth before dipping further into your mouth. Your knees weaken slightly, but he holds you steady with one arm around your waist and his other hand cradling your cheek.

You’re overwhelmed by him and from the events of the night. Whatever wetness had gathered in your eyes clings to your lashes before dropping down your cheeks.

“Baby,” Jungkook says softly. He gathers you in his arms, hugging you tightly. You sink into his hold on you, inhaling deeply. The faint thrum of his heart calms you slightly.

“I missed you,” You reply, voice barely above a whisper, “Fuck, I missed you a lot.”

He kisses your forehead with a small smile, the hint of his dimples making you smile, too. Jungkook looks at you as if you’re transparent, trying to study the reason for your wet lashes and the tear stains down your face. A feeling of understanding passes between you both, calming your racing heart and your nerves.

“Jungkook,” You murmur, “Take me home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours,” You reply, not really wanting to be in your home just yet, “It’s only fair, since you spent the night at my place last time, right?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Jungkook chuckles. He kisses you one more time before adjusting his motorcycle helmet over your head. When you wrap your arms around him, you press a kiss to the back of his neck and behind his ear.

He shivers.

Jungkook can tell you’re in your head a little bit, a little quiet and shaky. Even as you head into his bathroom to change into the clothes he’d given you, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. When you returned from the bathroom with a bare face, you’re lost in thought, biting down on your bottom lip and chewing harshly.

He’d pulled you into his arms, applied his clear balm on your lips, and chided you for treating your lips like that.

You only smiled weakly at him and meekly asked him to hold you under his covers. He doesn’t deny you.

He’d caught the tail end of Sora’s tirade at the club, and he’d begun to understand. He thinks you had begun to understand, too.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers into your hair, “Do you want to talk, baby?”

“I don’t know what to say,” You admit softly, pressing your hand over his.

“I can talk for both of us,” Jungkook says, kissing your temple, “Can I do that?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, threading your fingers through his and squeezing.

“I heard some of what Sora said,” Jungkook says and you tense up but he wordlessly tells you to relax, “I think in some weird, twisted, fucked up way. She loved you and her way of showing you how was keeping you to herself. It’s shitty, but it made sense to her. But you don’t owe her anything, baby. Not a damn thing.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I feel really gross and I don’t know why.”

“That’s alright, baby,” Jungkook says, rubbing your arm, “You didn’t know. That’s not love, not really. You’re safe here.”

“I know,” You say, turning to look at him with a small smile, “I trust you.”

You turn fully in his arms, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. His heartbeat lulls you to sleep, as well as his gentle fingers over your back. It’s so easy with him, and you don’t need to think too much. Just how you like it.

Tags: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

MoM Tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505

[anika-ann]

Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series 

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move. 

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings:  alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.  

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face.  And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

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You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.  

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

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Attached masterlist

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...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

[andinewton]

Based on this post by @acrispyapple​, just a little something I threw together!  Thanks for the idea!  I hope you like it!  (as always, I’m too lazy to edit it right now, so I hope it all makes sense!)

Give me a Break!  - A Victor oneshot

Victor continued with his work, his phone face down on the desk, awaiting the vibration to signal    your next reply.  It never took you long to come around to his way of thinking, even though you seemed to be really riled at his reply this time.  He could picture you now, brow furrowed delicately with a cute little pout on your lips.  His face curved into a smirk before he put his fountain pen back to paper and carried on working.

***

You glared at your phone.  You had taken five minutes out of today’s incredibly busy schedule to try and invite Victor on a trip.  Sending him a message, fishing for whether he might be interested or not, only to have him shoot you down in flames by questioning your work ethic!  Okay, well, fine.  If he wanted to be your boss and nothing else, then that was what he would get.

***

Later that evening, as you tucked into a very basic but still tasty microwave dinner at your tiny kitchen table, your phone beeped a new message.  Glancing at the display you could see a notification from Victor, asking where you were.  On the other side of you was a copy of your latest proposal which you were skimming over to double check it made sense.  Time to launch operation business only.

Taking a picture of the file you attached a short message, simply stating; very busy, boss.  Before putting the phone back down and continuing to eat, your desire to work suddenly fired up by his query.

Another beep.  You were meant to be at Souvenir.

Actually, sir, you said you would take me to Souvenir later.  As no time nor date for said meeting was confirmed with myself or my office, I assumed it was tentative.  Apologies if I misunderstood.

Wow, that felt soooooo good!  It was professional, made your point, even to the degree of apologising to draw attention to the fact it was his fault.  Now for stage two of your plan.

You opened a new text message and sent a brief note to Kiro.  Weirdly, he was the one who supported your not-quite-a-relationship with Victor, and was more than happy to be your venting buddy as well as constant co-conspirator.  You knew Kiro “shipped” the two of you, as he assured you the internet said these days, and he wanted to make it his mission to bring you together.  You admitted you weren’t exactly averse to the idea, and making Victor jealous just might help.  Just minutes later you got a stream of excited emojis from Kiro, followed by the simple phrase; I know just what to do, so go with it!

You were sure whatever it was would get Victor’s attention in no time, the real test would be how he reacted.

***

Victor threw his phone down on the countertop, the metal surface reverberating with the clash.  You were taking it this far, seriously?  Making out your relationship was nothing more than professional?  He would make you pay for that in some not so subtle way.  He started to pack away the ingredients he had bought to make you a special meal, knowing you weren’t coming.  It was a shame to let it go to waste and while he wanted to share this recipe with you he could be just as petty as you were.  Probably even more so.

His phone vibrated the counter as he came back from the refrigerator, glancing at the screen to see it was from Goldman, and a screenshot no less.  Opening it he stared for a good ten seconds before his anger rose to a near impossible level.

Kiro had apparently made a post that Goldman thought should be brought to Victor’s attention immediately.  And he could see why.

Kiro:  Looking forward to a weekend away with my bestie!  Just the two of us, sun, sea, swimsuits, sand, sweet treats, and sangria!

And you were tagged in it.

It was no secret that the two of you were friends, completely platonic yet irritatingly friends who had the press eating out of your hands at the far too many not-dates you went on.  Was this what he had blown off by reminding you that work was important?  A chance to enjoy a tropical vacation with you wearing very little clothing and…he cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to dislodge the image.  Two could play this game.  If she was trying to make him jealous she was not going to succeed.  No.  He would take the high ground and let her go waste her time with the blond pretty boy.

At least that was what he thought.  Until Goldman’s second image came through.  That of your reply.

MC:  Can you believe we get the entire island to ourselves?  Thanks #romanticgetaways for the amazing prize!

She won a private island getaway and she was going with…with…with him?!  Oh, he didn’t think so!  Victor slapped off the lights and headed for the door, grabbing his jacket as he passed.

***

‘Do you think this will work?’  You asked Kiro when he video called you after he posted.  He had talked you through your reply and it made sense.  He knew about the prize you had won, how excited you had been at the prospect of inviting Victor on what you hope might be a romantic little getaway, and he knew the CEO wasn’t keen on your friendship with the star.

‘With that reply it’s guaranteed!’  You could almost feel Kiro’s excitement through the screen.  ‘You are totally going to get him demanding you go with him instead of me!’

‘I mean demanding does sound like him.’  You agreed.  ‘But I can’t see it.  He was obviously put out that I switched to all business and we both know how stubborn he is.’

‘Psshh.’  Kiro made a dismissive noise.  ‘You’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand.’

‘He’ll probably say that’s unsanitary.’

Kiro’s bubbly laugh echoed through the tiny speaker.  ‘I bet he’s actually okay with the idea of a little food play.’  The wink he gave you was enough to bring a blush to your cheeks.

‘You’re worse than me, I swear.’  You shook your head.  ‘I don’t imagine I’ll hear from him, but if I do I’ll let you…’

You were interrupted by a knock on your door, your head jerking around to look at it.

‘It’s him!  Oh my God, just leave me here on the table so I can listen in!’

‘Nope.’  You waved and cut the call, placing the phone face down on the table before heading over and going up on tiptoes to look through the peephole.  Holy crap, it was actually him!

You glanced down at yourself, still wearing your skirt and blouse from work but barefoot and hair down.  You’d have to do.  Opening the door you looked at Victor, leaning against the wall beside the door with his forearm, glaring at you the moment his eyes found you.

‘Good evening, Mr Li.  To what do I owe this unexpected visit?’  Your tone was clipped and professional but his stern expression didn’t slip.

‘Do you always open your door at this time of night to strangers?’

‘I wouldn’t call us strangers, Mr Li.  And I checked through the peephole first.’  You waved a hand towards it in demonstration.

He straightened from his leaning pose and tugged his jacket so it sat right.  ‘Quit calling me that.’

‘Mr Li?’  You asked, and he gave a brisk nod.  ‘But that’s your name.’

‘We have been on a first name basis for as long as we have been in business.’

‘And I apologise for my lack of professionalism in that regard.’  You bowed your head briefly.  ‘Now, what can I do for you?  It must be important for you to have come all this way at this hour.’

‘I want to know what this is about.’  He thrust his phone in your face just as your neighbour’s door opened, Lucien poking his head around the frame.

‘Is everything alright, MC?  I heard raised voices.’

You smiled pleasantly before emphasising his name.  ‘Everything is fine, Lucien.  Some last minute business that couldn’t wait until morning, that’s all.’

He gave Victor a none too friendly glance.  ‘Shout if you need anything.’

‘I will.  Thank you, Lucien.’

After a final look Victor’s way he closed the door again and you turned your attention back to the man in front of you, who seemed even angrier now than he had a moment before.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Li?  It is, after all, very late.  Is there some sort of emergency?’

‘No, there’s no emergency!’  His tone became exasperated.  ‘I want to know…’

‘This is well out of business hours so I assumed it was urgent.’

‘Are you just going to leave me on the doorstep all night?’  He finally snapped.

‘With that attitude I think I might.’  You begun to close the door but he put his hand against it and held it there, not that you put up much of a fight.  ‘Mr Li, this is very unprofessional.’

‘Enough with the Mr Li, and enough with the professionalism!’  His nostrils flared, you thought in an attempt to stop himself from really yelling, but you just continued to looked at him with a confused expression on your face.  ‘I want you to tell me what this means?’

Again he held out the phone and you leant forward slightly, examining it carefully.  ‘I believe that is a post from the idol Kiro regarding to his plans for this weekend.’

‘His plans this weekend with you.’  He specified.

‘That’s right.’

‘Quit playing dumb, MC.’

‘I don’t know what you’re alluding to, Mr Li, but dumb is the last thing I am playing.’

The sigh he let out was more of a huff.  ‘Are you really going to spend the weekend on a private island with him?’

You shrugged.  ‘I had no one else to ask.  My first choice was unavailable therefore I went with my backup.  If that’s all, sir, I was in the middle of eating.’

‘You said you were working.’

‘I’m multitasking.’  For the first time your irritation slipped through into your voice and you had to take a calming breath before continuing.

He glared at you but you glared right back.  He was in the wrong here and if he were really jealous, as Kiro suspected, he had to do something about it, not you.  You were not caving.

‘This trip?  It was what you wanted to ask me on?’

‘I thought to.  Until you stated you couldn’t possibly find the time and that my workload shouldn’t afford me the time either.  However, I happen to believe in a healthy work/life balance and this short break will be most welcome.’

‘I would have gone with you.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?’  You leaned forward with your ear turned slightly towards him.

‘I said if you had come out and asked me in the first place I would have gone with you!’

‘Asking if you would like a spur of the moment trip wasn’t to the point enough for you?’  You finally snapped back at him.  ‘Your cue then would have been to ask me where to, not to have dismissed me like you have so many other times!  I am tired of trying to be perfect for you, Victor, I mean Mr Li!  I know in future not to bother asking you to anything you would obviously feel is a complete waste of your valuable time.  I’m sorry I bothered you with it in the first place and you will be pleased to hear that from this point on our relationship will be nothing but professional!’

‘You can’t just…’

‘I can’t just what?  Tell you a few home truths?’

‘No!’

‘Decide not to allow you to antagonise me any more?’

‘No!’

‘Go on vacation with Kiro?’

That was evidently the last straw for Victor as he shoved his phone in his pocket, stepped forward, and pulled you to him for a bruising kiss.

You couldn’t lie, it was everything you could ever have dreamed of and more.  You swore you saw fireworks behind your eyelids, your nerve endings tingling throughout your entire body as his lips forcefully took yours, his hands cupping your face as though afraid you might move.  Moving was the last thing on your mind, though, and you made a small satisfied murmur as he drew back from you just enough to allow you to focus on him.

‘Try asking me again.’  He all but growled, the noise making you shiver in such close confines.

‘Would…’ you swallowed, ‘would you like a spur of the moment trip?’

A smile curved the edge of his lips.  ‘With you?  Any time.’

[drferox]

I should never have needed to type the phrase ‘Fascist Nazi Captain Planet RPer’ with my own two hands.

In light of the whole captain-planet-official nazi dogwhistles thing…

Doesn’t matter if they know what they’re doing or not (but they certainly do) or if they’re doing this ‘ironically’ (a cop out excuse to claim plausible deniability when they get called out) this fascist nazi Captain Planet blog is influencing its readers in a bad way, and you should be aware of how. Because honestly I’ve used some of those techniques too.

“But it’s all a joke!” No it’s not. It’s masquerading as a joke, hiding behind that claim if the heat gets too intense, but it’s not a joke.

Well, except maybe for the fact that the right wingers are laughing at you trying to figure it out, ‘getting confused’ or defending parts of what’s been said.

The short premise is that the more positively you feel about a personality on the internet, the more likely you are to agree with them, and the more likely you are to side with them on issues that you didn’t previously have an opinion on. At some point you file them away in your brain as ‘someone I agree with’ and use them as a shortcut for ‘If they said this, I agree with them’. It’s a very human thing, it’s why advertisers pay so much for celebrity endorsements.

So part of what this Nazi Captain Planet rper is/was doing (I can’t believe I typed that phrase with my own two hands, what even is 2019?) is making you feel attached to them, and partly it’s training your brain to accept and normalise their rhetoric.

So how does a blog set about accomplishing this?

Start with an easy one- giving you a nickname or term of endearment. It makes you feel special, and like you belong to something. They use Planeteers, I used Vetlings. People crave belonging.

Then have an approachable front: a much loved cartoon character. The trusted profession of veterinarian.

Now if you’re trying to do this deliberately, start getting people into a quick habit of agreeing with you. Pick neutral ground that’s hard to criticise - protecting the environment is good, don’t litter, we want good things for our pets, etc.

And once you’ve got people agreeing with you on multiple points in succession, it becomes easier to get them to agree with, or at least tolerate, the next point. Especially if you’re on a relatively unassuming blog about ‘saving the environment’ or animal health.

Did you ever try that trick as a kid where you ask someone to repeat the word ‘silk’ out loud ten times in a row, and then ask ‘what does a cow drink’? A bunch of them will automatically reply ‘milk’ instead of ‘water’ because you primed their brain.

So you can use this repeated behavior to desensitise readers to an idea, get them used to agreeing with you, until you slip some things in which they might normally side-eye.

It’s making the brain practice how you want it to think before the main event. It’s showing your work so that other people can apply it to other situations. I’ve done it too, rather more unintentionally most of the time on this blog, though I use it when communicating directly with clients.

For example, in my writing I can lead you down the garden path of:

“Purebreds have problems because they haven’t had new genes introduced in generations”

> “mixing of breeds is a good thing”

> “breed purity is a bad thing, maybe not immediately but it is bad”.

Then I will often leave readers to make the last step on their own, because I trust they’re intelligent and reasonable, and a conclusion you reach yourself has more sticking power than any I just hand you.

So when you conclude “racial purity is a completely bullshit concept and detrimental to the health of those ‘races’, are Nazis actually trying to make us as screwed over as German Shepherds?” you will hold that opinion more strongly than if I just said it to you.

Similarly, a different blog leading you down the path of “Invasive species are a result of globalism and must be removed” with “there are three types of people: black, Jews and normal” is leading you towards the path of “blacks and Jews are not normal, they are invasive and we should remove them” and then that goes to “but humanely! We can humanely euthanize invasive species!” and I’m sure you can see where that is going. It also co-opts real conservation talk and terms, but it’s glossing over the fact it’s trying to get you to think about people this way, often with as much plausible deniability as they can muster. Throw the thoughts out there, see what sticks, then backtrack if it doesn’t work.

On that note of backtracking, this is where Dogwhistles come in.

A Dogwhistle is a phrase that on its own looks perfectly benign, or even makes sense in context, but has a specific meaning for a particular subgroup of people that change the context. Just like dog whistles are heard by dogs, but not by people.

A classic example is the phrase ‘family values’, which often means anti-LGBT+ in a Christian context even though it sounds like it should mean something supportive.

The Nazi and alt-right ones change periodically. From relatively old school ones like ‘14 words’, the number 88, and ‘final solution’, to more recent ones like putting names in (((brackets))), particular emojis and even ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’.

Yes, ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’ became a Nazi dogwhistle, regardless of whatever you might think of Pewdiepie. If it was thrown into a context where it didn’t necessarily seem to belong, it changed the meaning of those words. And if that person was called out on it, they’d backtrack and claim they simply liked the content. And the bigger the meme became, the easier it was for them to use.

Ah, you might think by now, but lots of people also use ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’, emojis and sentences with 14 words. And 88 is a perfectly ordinary number, a birth year even, there are times when it’s really just being used legitimately?

Of course there are. But when you start to see a lot of them together, it starts to look suspicious.

And if you are a minority regularly targeted by such a hateful group, it starts to look really very intimidating. So if everybody starts reblogging these dogwhistles from a colourful Captain Planet blog, it makes it look like there are far more Nazi supporters than anything else. And it isolates those minorities.

This is why it’s so insidious that they claimed something like Captain Planet - a character with significant nostalgia, a show with a pretty diverse group of main characters and a good message, and co-opted it into spreading these dogwhistles and priming unwary minds to think these rhetorics, these training ideas, are reasonable.

“But it was clearly a troll, lmfao!”

Oh hell no. These are real tactics. They will say it’s a joke, it’s trolling, or that you’re overreacting, but that’s part of the plan to seed these ideas. Don’t defend it. Don’t fall for it.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-08-23

More homestuuuuuck

I’m a little tired today so I don’t expect much intelligent analysis out of myself, but if anything classpecty happens I doubt I’ll be able to help myself regardless.

oh, always

(EDITS: added note on horn colors, link to ask on potential Blood powers reference)

> CHAPTER 12. Really Convoluted Metaphorical Horseshit

cuuute

In the bowels of a different ship, at a moment in time that is not pinpointable in either direction from the previous interaction, another Dave raps quietly to himself.

another dave raps quietly to himself.  i am glad that phrase exists it brings me joy

(LATER EDIT: A friend on Discord pointed out that throughout this entire update, Karkat's horns are #FF0000 red. They were normal candy-corn colors in previous glimpses at the ship crew, though they used a dark single-color shortcut typical of old Homestuck at one point... but THIS time it stays STARK red even when we zoom in close later. Is this just artistic liberty? Did Karkat color his horns for fashion? Does this happen to red-bloods like the Sufferer after a certain age? Just how much time has actually passed, here? We might have to wait for the commentary for this one.)

KARKAT: I WAS SAYING I THOUGHT WE MIGHT GO, I DUNNO, ANYWHERE ELSE ON THE ENTIRE SHIP WHILE THE CLOTHES WERE WASHING. KARKAT: SEEING AS THIS DECREPIT MACHINE WE WERE SO BLESSEDLY PROVIDED WITH MAKES A WHIRRING SOUND SO PANCHAFINGLY ARHYTHMIC THAT IT THREATENS TO ERADICATE THE ENTIRE CONCEPT OF TEMPO FROM THE UNIVERSE.

Karkat really has chilled out hasnt he?  like this is surprisingly level for him, and that fact is hilarious.

KARKAT: AND YET SOMEHOW BASICALLY ALL THAT HAS HAPPENED SINCE WE STARTED THE LOAD IS THAT YOU’VE BEEN USING IT AS A FUCKED UP BEAT TO WHISPER TO YOURSELF ABOUT FLOWERS TO.

oh gosh that’s why he’s rapping

> ==>

DAVE: kanaya was telling me this kids story the other day about this dude who didnt cherish a flower enough until it peaced out to do flower stuff idk its not pertinent to the story DAVE: except the flower was a person DAVE: because it was a metaphor

Oh right, coming back to the Little Prince stuff I was too lazy to metaphor-deep-dive into, and literally asking the same questions we were asking about who the Little Prince’s story applies to mapped here if anyone at all, like Dirk and such, or what biases were in the retelling of it and the way Kanaya phrased it.  So now we’re practically mocking it by deep diving it here, hence the last page’s “DAVE: i was just thinking through some really convoluted metaphorical horseshit”, which means we’re both about to further explore AND shit all over the existence of this story metaphor until it doesn’t mean anything and most of the meaning we drew from it earlier is made a joke~

well, not “we”, cause I was too lazy, so... y’all

DAVE: anyway what goes down in the story is that once the flower lady is out of the picture DAVE: the main character goes around making all these connections between her and everything else in the universe until every damn thing feels like a symbol for how much he fucked up and how much he will never see her again KARKAT: THIS SEEMS PRETTY FUCKING INTENSE FOR A KID'S STORY DAVE: yea thats pretty much what i said

Oh holy shit.  That’s yet another way to put it.  Are we doing a whole moral takedown of the Light aspect today?  cause it sounds like we’re taking a dump on the Light aspect and RoboRose getting too obsessed and immersed in it, which would be excellent

DAVE: but i guess its not so much what the story was technically textually about but more like the version of it kanaya internalized and then told me when we were talkin about how she misses rose

exactly

DAVE: so like now im taking the story she told me she was projecting her feelings onto and projecting my feelings on top of that

yes absolutely, you just rephrased it a different way with that exact same bias

DAVE: this is just one big game of emotional projection telephone so feel free to go paraphrase it to roxy later and make it about whatever fuckin thing youre currently missing

perfect. i need an emoji for that Italian thing for when you pinch your thumb and forefinger together and kiss it

ah this’ll do:

its like the expression “choice” but in nonverbal form

[...] whatever fuckin thing youre currently missing KARKAT: YOUR ABILITY TO GET TO THE POINT DAVE: gotem DAVE: anyway you’re not gonna have to miss that skill of mine for long DAVE: get ready for this shit because i am about to slap you with the point so hard youll fall ass first into the washer DAVE: just scrambling around in there getting all sudsy DAVE: but your brain is gonna be so blasted from the mindfreak of a point im about to make that there wont be anything left to clean

Anytime dave is told to get to the point he is contractually obligated to spend at least 20 seconds talking about how he’ll get to the point in a way that is not getting to the point

DAVE: so its genuinely cool that kanaya can go around creating meaning that may or may not be actually present in every little thing DAVE: connecting every feeling she has to the idea of her wife existing out there DAVE: so i told her she should keep that shit up DAVE: but im having the opposite issue where im struggling to find anything to be that kind of tether because every single thing i could possibly consider about what it is were doing just reminds me of yet another thing to be afraid about

Great examples of Light being good and bad!  Attaching strands of connective meaning to everything.  --though, in Dave’s case AND Kanaya’s case you could argue it’s both bad in terms of effects.  That it’s great for Kanaya to care, but that she should be able to divest herself and live on her own terms without idealizing Rose literally everywhere she looks, personal growth which would be useful in helping bring Rose back to her in the first place.  The struggle they’re looking forward to is largely philosophical, not just physical, and until Rosebot acknowledges that she was wrong it’s not over.

DAVE: everything fuckin sucks huge cosmic donkey sack and im terrified KARKAT: OK, SO I FEEL LIKE YOU SKIPPED A COUPLE NECESSARY STEPS IN YOUR POINT CLARIFICATION PROCESS.

Pretty sure Dave was on the same page as most Epilogue and start-of-HS2 readers.  This situation is pretty bleak to dump our heroes into, no matter how much we believe will be resolved in the long run.

DAVE: ok but were you going with sweet or savory please give me that much at least KARKAT: YEAH IT WAS GOING TO BE SUNDAE-BASED. DAVE: nice KARKAT: YEAH. KARKAT: DO YOU WANNA WATCH MORE GBBO AFTER THIS? DAVE: absolutely

--ah, Great British Bake-Off, can’t say I’ve indulged

do they still have that?? did they save it from old Earth?  or did they go where unflooded Britain used to be and say hey, new show reboot

KARKAT: GREAT. ANYWAY, LIKE I WAS SAYING, FOR THE LOVE OF SWEET HUMAN CHRIST, PLEASE BACK UP TO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU’RE ACTUALLY SCARED OF. KARKAT: ALSO COME HERE, IDIOT.

That last line is like, exactly as fucking sweet and awesome as we imagined their relationship to be.  :)

> ==>

OH MY GOD THAT’S ADORABLE

DAVE: ok yeah this is a better position to unleash all my inner fears n anxieties from

indisputably.

DAVE: those times its like my mouth was saying words about the situation wherein our friends are AWOL and maybe dead but my brain wasnt fully letting me experience the emotion that goes along with them DAVE: man its like i cant even start genuinely thinking about how afraid i actually am for rose and john without my brain flippin its wad and whiting out DAVE: like haha fuck i hope theyre ok DAVE: now i better make a fuckin joke before i succumb to the gaping mouth of despair waiting for me to fall in it as soon as i look down and acknowledge that its there ogling how juicy my ass looks as it trembles with terror

I really hope that the writers of HS2 know full well that this feeling? the one Dave is describing here? is what many of us who got way overinvested in the well-being of Homestuck’s surviving characters felt reading the Epilogues and Homestuck^2.  So I really hope they’re working through it in a way that will result in a preponderance of GOOD THINGS happening and hope-filled situations.  Cause that “can’t even think about X” feeling is too familiar, and if they understand it as well as it LOOKS like they’re getting to, I’d really like them to give us a helping hand healing.

I think that’s what they’re going for?  Seems hopeful for me to think so, but they HAVE been doing better as HS2 has been going forward, from an emotional standpoint anyway; definitely better than the Epilogues.  And I’ve worked through some of that stuff with the help of that, because it’s MUCH easier nowadays to think about Homestuck without my gut clenching.

DAVE: i guess im just fucked up about how to worry about dirk and be angry at him at the same time DAVE: because if i get as unholy pissed at him as i sometimes wanna be i also gotta admit to myself that maybe i coulda done something different there

Mhmm, Karkat’s potentially a pretty good person to speak with here since he’s done so much work trying not to feel responsible for everything that’s ever gone wrong.

DAVE: also like DAVE: and this by the way adds a whole other layer of guilt on there that i dont really know how to fuckin reckon with but DAVE: even with all the shit hes pulled and the fact that we are more or less heading toward having to take him down DAVE: whatever that is gonna mean and whether or not he planned it like that DAVE: i just DAVE: me and him had come so far with each other and it was really cool for a while to have him and i DAVE: ugh DAVE: i dont WANT to hate him

Yeah, Dirk and Jane’s heel-turns were really shitty for anyone who was a fan of them in the fanbase, as well.

KARKAT: WELL THEN QUIT FUCKING PICKING AT THE SEAM ON MY SHORTS AND SPIT IT OUT. THEY'RE BARELY HANGING ON TO THE DEFINITION OF "SHORTS" AS IT IS.

That is an adorably real boyfriend-laying-in-boyfriend’s-lap thing to do

DAVE: the part i mentioned before about how we really have no goddamn clue how long this trip is even gonna take DAVE: i cant help but feel like its barely getting revved up DAVE: and for me and roxy and jade and callie and kan thats normal shit at best and boring at worst but we all have our immortality to thank for that DAVE: we can just dick around in space for near-eternity waiting to catch up to our friends who may or may not be our enemies now and itll be fine DAVE: i mean no itll be categorically miserable DAVE: but well survive it KARKAT: HOLD THE FUCK ON. DAVE: but you KARKAT: DAVE. DAVE: no lemme say this

Oh god damnit.  Karkat’s limited lifespan.  As if we hadn’t ALREADY covered a nauseatingly extensive gamut of disheartening topics of conversation.  We really have to confront every shred of misery in their past, present and future one after the other after the other in the Epilogues and HS2, don’t we?  >:(

I guess it had to be discussed, though.

DAVE: we dont talk about it much and i got shit to say about it DAVE: its not like i never thought about how youre mortal before but i just thought wed be able to figure it out before it mattered DAVE: come up with some kind of plan DAVE: i was just distracted being happy with you i fucking guess and so i didnt think up a way to fix it DAVE: and now thanks to dirk we have to work it out right the fuck now DAVE: because i cant spend this trip just sitting around watching you get old and die

Jesus.  I mean, WE know(?) that it’s not gonna be THAT many years, but THEY don’t know that.

Unless it really IS going to be that many years and HS2 is going to shamelessly take a fucking sledgehammer to our feelings for no goddamn good reason.  Which it won’t!  Right???  >:T

> ==>

Dishwasher ding

> Dave: Grapple with the clean, soggy consequences of the passage of time.

Hey, don’t make it a metaphor here. --though, fuck.  I suppose we are dealing with everyones dirty laundry.  God damnit.  SURE, deal with it all story but then GET IT OUT OF THE WAY AND PUT SOME SERIOUS FUN AND LAUGHS IN HERE so we don’t feel like we’re wading through an entire garbage dump!!!  *click*

Karkat’s eyebrows-only mouthless frown is really cute.

> ==>

okay Karkat explain the nope you’re lodging

> ==>

*put*

> ==>

*foot*

> ==>

DAVE: ok go on

I mean I at least appreciate the time investment in adorable boyfriends.  That’s definitely something of SOME good value they’re giving us in exchange for this misery

> ==>

That Karkat image makes me wanna do that red-shaky-gif-thing with it

KARKAT: IT'S NOT LIKE I'M NEW TO THE PARTICULAR MOOBEAST WRANGLING EVENT OF SOMEONE I PREVIOUSLY LOVED BRUTALLY TURNING ON ME AND LEAVING ME TO TRY AND CRAM MY FEELINGS ABOUT THE SITUATION BACK TOGETHER ALL ON MY OWN.

True

KARKAT: HE DID THAT ON HIS OWN. AND WE MADE THE CHOICE TO GO AFTER HIM ON OUR OWN.

Yes, and you’ll possibly convince him more of that over time, though not in this short conversation

KARKAT: I WAS FOLLOWING YOUR LITTLE TRAIL OF COOKIE CRUMB FEARS UNTIL IT LEAD TO THE BIG SNACK FINALE OF WORRY ABOUT MY FRAGILE MORTAL MEATSACK. KARKAT: IF I HAVE SOMEHOW NOT BEEN CLEAR ABOUT THIS WITH YOU YET, LET ME GO AHEAD AND RECTIFY THE SITUATION RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. KARKAT: HANGING OUT WITH YOU ON THIS LONG TRIP TO WHO THE SHITTING FUCK KNOWS WHERE IS QUITE LITERALLY THE HAPPIEST I HAVE EVER BEEN IN MY ENTIRE MEAGER EXISTENCE. KARKAT: I'M SO ABSOLUTELY BLISSED THE FUCK OUT OF MY MIND TO BE ABLE TO LOOK AT YOUR STUPID IMMORTALLY SMOOTH HUMAN FACE SKIN EVERY DAY AND NOT HAVE A COMPLEX ABOUT IT.

D’AWWW

And with that darkly angry expression too, that’s PERFECT

I mean it’s true.  What exactly would they be doing DIFFERENTLY on Earth C other than enjoying each other like this?  It’s pretty fucking great.

...hm.  Isn’t this journey-not-the-destination stuff pretty Breathy?  Karkat’s proving more balanced by the moment.

KARKAT: AND I'LL BE STRAIGHT WITH YOU. IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVEN'T BEEN EXPERIENCING SOME COMPLICATED GUILT, MYSELF. KARKAT: THE FACT THAT I'M HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE JUST FUCKING CHILLAXING AND BEING IN LOVE IN SPACE IS A CLEARLY INCONGRUOUS WITH THE REASON I'M ACTUALLY HERE CHILLAXING TO BEGIN WITH, AND I'M NOT LETTING MYSELF FORGET THAT, EITHER.

Pff.  He feels guilty for ENJOYING IT so much.  <3

KARKAT: BUT I RESENT THE IMPLICATION THAT MY HAPPINESS IS REGISTERING FOR YOU AS YOU HAVING TO JUST "SIT AROUND AND WATCH ME GET OLD," BECAUSE I KNOW YOU KNOW IT'S MORE THAN THAT.

I’m glad Karkat knows that DAVE knows somewhere in him that it’s more than that, because yeah, if Karkat thought he DIDN’T know that at some level that’d be a reason to take MUCH MORE SERIOUS offense.

KARKAT: LIKE, JESUS, DAVE. YOU KNOW I'M AFRAID FOR YOU, TOO, RIGHT? KARKAT: OR DID YOU FORGET THE WHOLE HEROIC DEATH THING? KARKAT: I WORRY ABOUT LOSING YOU FAIRLY FUCKING REGULARLY.

Hah!!!  Point taken.  Karkat must view Dave as practically more fragile than HIM.

KARKAT: ONE: WE'VE BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH HELLACIOUS PANWARPING TRAUMA THAT I REFUSE TO NOT ENJOY THIS SHIT WHEN I FINALLY FUCKING GET IT, NO MATTER HOW LONG IT MAY OR MAY NOT LAST. KARKAT: TWO: IT'S NOT LIKE WE'RE DOING NOTHING. WE’RE MOVING. WE’RE WORKING. WE’RE HEADED SPECIFICALLY TO A PLACE WHERE WE WILL UNDOUBTLEDLY ENDURE YET MORE FUCKING HELLACIOUS PANWARPING TRAUMA. KARKAT: AND THREE: WE'RE DOING THAT BECAUSE WE HAVE FRIENDS WHO WE CARE ABOUT THAT NEED US. THAT IS OUR FOCUS, HERE. NOT OUR FEAR. IT'S ABOUT THE PEOPLE WE HAVE TO SAVE. KARKAT: SO DON'T FUCKING WORRY ABOUT ME, DAVE. I'M FINE.

Okay, this is great and wholesome.  I am now retroactively GLAD that this topic got brought up.  :)

> ==>

Dave is still afraid. There is a part of him that will always be, he thinks. He has accepted this about himself. There is another feeling coursing through him too, though. It’s something he's felt before, though never quite so intensely. He looks up at Karkat and understands, viscerally, the simple power his words have. They pump through Dave’s own body, alive and warm and true.

He wonders if Karkat realizes it, or if he’s just, as always, saying what he feels as he feels it. Dave doesn’t attempt to dissect it further. There will be time for that later.

Every really loving moment like this is sort of undercut by the fact that it’s also, in some senses, part of alt!Calliope’s narration and, by extension, her fanfiction.

EDIT 2: There's also either a hint to potential Blood powers or even an explicit Blood power use here that I didn't recognize. I'm leaning towards it's-laying-the-groundwork-for-future-use-of-Blood-powers-but-isnt-magical-in-this-case.

> ==>

Smooooch!

That was nice.  Still gonna wait on doing any commentary til next time or a Bonus update or two, cause I’m beat.  See y’all next time!

[cheezritsu]

Atsumu Miya || Unravelling

[Uhn•rav•uhl] verb, informal. to take apart; undo; destroy

Warnings: implied sex, mentions of sex, quick depiction of self harming behaviors (not explicit.) Inspired by SZA’s Supermodel

It must be considered deviant and demonic how the constant the thud thud THUD! Rings out with an even pace in the hallway of Tokyo’s finest apartment complexes. If it weren’t for the fact that calling the police would no doubt result in a press field day none of the residents of Park Mansion Akasaka wanted, someone would have filed a noise complaint. It’s a shame they did not—perhaps there might be a certain clout that comes with exposing MSBY setter Miya Atsumu’s intimate life, but it would also have saved time, money, and tears in the long run.

But, the residents of the 9th floor could not see into the future. They were instead, attempting to mind their business and not be bothered by Miya trying to make back beats by fucking someone into a mattress.

That little comparison was Osamu’s first scathing critique, until he froze completely. The disgust melted into horror as he turned his head to his companion.

“Hey-,” he starts, but as he catches the expression, the words dry up.

Yes, it would have been nicer—no, merciful—if the residents of the 9th floor had called the police when this happened, if only to spare you from witnessing it yourself.

Your hands get so clammy, the plastic bag in your hand nearly slips out. You catch yourself before the beer bottles can shatter on the marble floor that costs more than your entire block. It’s an easy clean up, but it would probably be very sticky, and disastrous, you think. Almost as disastrous as—

It starts up again, rhythmic and constant like an orchestrated performance. You and Osamu are mere steps outside the apartment, and you can hear the manic, frayed screams coming from the walls. It sounds like they’re in pain; just the way Atsumu likes it.

“Y/N,” Osamu tries once again to get your attention. The pity in his voice is unmistakable, and you hate that of all the emotions the usually stoic twin shows you, this is the one he’s chosen. Pity. Sympathy.

“Guess that’s why he didn’t pick up the phone,” you remark casually, refusing to look Osamu in the eye. “I’ll just leave it by his door with a note.”

Osamu says your name, this time with a firm edge that demands attention. You don’t give it to him. You’re too busy trying not to actively throw the takeout and beer you bought out of your measly paycheck to help your friend (attachment, entanglement, dick appointment, are all better words than friend) feel better after a crushing defeat at the hands of the Saitama Spears. (Crushing, like his hands must be around her neck for the moans to sound so strangled.) No matter, you say to yourself, hands shaking as you send him a text. Something cute and sweet with a properly sickening amount of heart emojis, like any good (not quite) girlfriend would do. Whatever it takes.

Ignoring how the click of your heels mesh with the steady thrum of Atsumu’s two thousand yen headboard against his 100 million yen walls, you march back the exact way you came; down the white, sterile hallway and passed the doors that housed the rest of the 9th floor, who would, unknowingly, pay for the mistake of not asking the shameless Atsumu Miya to please, please keep his fucking at a tolerable volume. Fame and infamy come with perks, one supposes, but they also come with karma.

You’re not thinking of revenge, though. You’re wondering how you’ll make it to the elevator without completely coming apart at the seams. Something in you unravels, much like it might if Atsumu were playing you like the fool you were; perfectly manicured setter hands curling, scratching, plucking at all the right places. No, this unravelling is much slower, much more painful, as if the single thread that creates your existence is being snipped in half. When you push the call button for the elevator, you think the thread is severed completely, because you have to lean your head on the cold steel to steady yourself.

Osamu’s approaching footsteps really only register in the very depths of your mind. The heavy breathing doesn’t really sound like yours—how could it be anyways, when you were miles away from your body, floating in the ether like a ghost; forgotten, discarded, alone. Untethered.

You lift your head up only to bang it against the wall. The soft thud is reminiscent of the moment that just transpired, and you—subconsciously, like you were possessed—start bashing your forehead to the same piledriver waltz Atsumu had played.

“Y/N!” Pity. Bang! Worry. Bang! Sympathy. Bang! Could you crush your skull this way? The mystery woman’s screams tangle in your brain like an earworm, the salacious sounds on repeat. Bang!

When Osamu’s hand lands on your shoulders, it feels like he’s tethered your soul back into your body. You wrench yourself out of his grip.

“Don’t!-” you begin to scream, but you catch the look he gives you. His grey-brown eyes are wet with concern, darting between the growing red spot on your forehead to the watery snarl on your lips. You take a shuddering breath to keep the hysteria from bubbling into your tone. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

Osamu doesn’t even raise an eyebrow in pretence. His mask of neutrality and sarcasm is completely gone, replaced with anger. “You were banging your head into the wall like a patient in a psych ward.”

“That’s unnecessarily stereotypical, Osamu. I thought you were better than that.”

Crossed arms. He’s seconds away from blowing his lid. “Yer not funny.”

You wonder what would happen if Osamu blanked on you in here. Would these good-for-nothing neighbors actually call the police then? What a headline: Miya twins apprehended in two separate noise complaints. Kita would probably stop sending Osamu rice out of embarrassment.

You don’t want to fight Osamu anyways. It’s not his fault that the bearer of his face is fucking another girl as you speak.

The elevator dings, and you step inside. It’s fortunately empty. Osamu stands right next to you, hovering like an overprotective parent. The chrome doors of the elevator slide shut and you’re face to face with your own reflection: hollow, sunken eyes the most expensive concealer can’t fix; posture hunched from years of slaving over work and school; nails short and busted from part time jobs that barely pay the bills. Nails that have been raked down the chiseled, marble back of a man who didn’t belong to you, and never did.

Her nails were probably nicer. Probably manicured. Maybe he paid for it. You can’t even see your nails anymore, because your head is in your hands, shielding your ugly cries from Osamu, who bears the face of the man who doesn’t love you.

“I should have just taken the fucking hint,” you sniffle, wiping the running eyeliner from the corner of your eye. “Shoulda left him alone.”

Osamu just hums. You wished it was anyone else but him. Osamu isn’t bad at a lot of things, but comfort was one of them. He just stares vacantly at the doors, a grimace replacing his usual thin lipped look, but other than that he appears unbothered.

And then, like he’s reading condolences off a list, he says: “I’m sorry.”

The words in their sincerity sound foreign on his tongue. With one big sniff you pull the thread keeping you together tightly, gathering yourself. “What’re you apologising for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry my brother is a complete piece of shit.”

“Well, we both knew that, didn’t we.”

Osamu can’t place what he dislikes about that phrase, but the elevator interrupts his thought process. The doors open to reveal one of the security guards eying you two up and down. His eyes narrow for a moment on Osamu’s face, and then dip down to yours.

“There a problem here, Miya-san?”

On any other day he might have pulled a fast one on this guard, but you promptly walk out of the elevator, leaving Osamu to follow your lead wordlessly. The world outside the Park Mansion Akasaka is still turning, still bustling with people catching trains home from work, their patent leather shoes from office jobs clicking on the sidewalk to a rhythm you can’t match. The thud of the salarymen’s briefcases hitting their legs echo like the headboard off Atsumu’s walls. It’s everywhere, everywhere, and your insides churn sickeningly.

You stop, one hand leaning against the glass. Osamu catches up, hands halting just before they reach your back. “Stop running away from me, name,” he says softly, exasperated. “I’m trying to help.”

“How long.”

Osamu blinks. “What?”

You’re nearly doubled over with nausea, your free hand pressed flat against your chest to keep your lungs compressing. “How long has he been with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I swear to god, if you’re lying to me-“

“(Name) I would never do that to you.”

The promise doesn’t reassure you. Osamu runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now. And I’m not going to say anything—“

“Like what?” You look at him over your shoulder, eyes squinted in malice. “Like I told you so?”

Your insolence is wearing out Osamu’s sliver of empathy. You’re unbearable like this, you know that, and Osamu is less tolerable than most. “Your words, not mine.”

“Your brother is cheating on me.”

“You’re not together.”

“There it is!” You let your head fall back in rumbling, humorless laughter. “I was waiting for that.”

“I don’t want to be a dick right now.”

“Too late, ‘Samu.” You haul yourself up, buttoning the front of your coat. “Go home, work on your winter menu. I’ll be fine.”

The statement is met with rightful skepticism, but when you start to walk away, Osamu doesn’t follow. You can’t decide whether or not this hurts, because the all encompassing pain finally registers to the rest of your body. You try to numb yourself, dissociating as every step towards home becomes a blur. Akasaka’s beautiful lights and towers fade into lesser Tokyo’s decrepit neighborhoods, with sketchy alleys and dimly lit streets. Your apartment complex is a shoebox to Atsumu’s tower residence, and it feels just as claustrophobic when you step into your crowded, tiny apartment.

It’s nicer than what your friends can afford, but that doesn’t make it any better. Your couch is also your bed, and your desk faces the window even though you can’t properly study this way. The kitchen is perpetually clean because you can’t cook anything in it. You’re sure the fridge is empty, but it’s fine, because you simply peel off your clothing and curl into a ball on your bed.

It’s not even late. You have work and assignments to do, but as you check the time on your phone, you’re immediately taken to your camera roll, where a picture from several days ago stares back at you mockingly.

It’s from his bathroom, the one that has a television screen by the bathtub, the one with hotel lighting that makes you look glowy and ethereal no matter what. You’re half dressed, in the middle of putting on your morning skincare when Atsumu comes up behind you, arms around your waist. Your face is obscured, but you remember how happy and loved you felt to have his lips pressed against your temple, the heat of his body in your side. How surrounded and safe and warm you felt.

But moments are as fleeting and fragile as glass. The illusion has been shattered, and you’re left in a cocoon of blankets nowhere near as satisfactory as his body heat, in a dark and dingy apartment you will probably stay in for the rest of your life.

Just as you’re about to set your alarm for the morning, a notification pops up. The sparkles around his name indicate that Atsumu has finally, finally texted you back.

✨T’sumu✨: sorry I missed you babe I was not in a good place

✨T’sumu✨: you got work tmrrw? You always know how to cheer me up

It’s as if your heart has been snatched out of your rib cage; your chest hollows and collapses as a sob hiccups in your throat. Something wet slides across your temple. It’s not Atsumu’s lips, not even close. You wipe the tears with the back of your hand, and throw your phone across the room.

It shatters.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter t h r e e 

You were sitting at your desk on Monday morning when the message came through. Alyssa’s name lit up your screen, the house emoji sat beside the small letters as your hand jerked forward to grab it out of habit. 

Alyssa (10:21am): THERE’S A PHOTO OF US AND HARRY

Alyssa (10:21am): Can’t see our faces tho don’t worry

Alyssa (10:22am): Just the back of your head and my ear, really

Shit, shit, shit. 

She’d attached the picture and sent it: your arm, your hand, your hair. Alyssa’s ear and jaw, Erica’s leather jacket and unmistakably, Harry’s shoulders and back. You looked it over again, studying the image as you pinched it to zoom in. 

You couldn’t tell that was you. No way. Unless your mother or sister was looking, Jessie and Bryn might not even be able to tell. It was dark and the quality of the picture was poor but you could definitely see that you had a drink in your hand. You could also see that you were stood remarkably close to Harry. 

Fuck. 

You took a deep breath, hoping to steady your pulse and ignore the way your vision was blurry in the corners. 

“Question!” 

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, looking up quickly to see a startled Whitney with her hand on her chest--just as alarmed by your reaction as you’d been by her presence. “Sorry, hi.” You dropped your phone quickly, letting it crash down to your desk. 

“Sorry, oh my god,” she let out a big breath, rebounding from the adrenaline as a laugh escaped her lips. “I was just hoping we could meet later. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“No, m’sorry--you just--proper scared me,” you said, leaning back in your chair and blinking a few times--your heart still catching up with your brain.

“Your performance review is overdue,” she said. “We were supposed to do it at the six month mark, but you know how things are,” she waved a hand to dismiss the timeline. 

“Sure, yeah. After lunch?”

“Two-thirty? We can meet in my office.”

“I’ll come to you,” you nodded, offering confirmation before she turned to walk away. 

You picked up your phone again quickly, new messages from Alyssa coming in faster than you could read them. 

Alyssa (10:24am): OKAY just kidding there’s one of your face. Blurry though!!!!

Alyssa (10:24am): From down below. Someone must have taken it looking up to the balcony where we were?

Alyssa (10:25am): You would never know that was you

She was trying to reassure you, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest as all of the thoughts flooded through your brain like a tsunami, waves quick and forceful. 

Okay, so it wasn’t like knowing Harry was the end of the world. You’d been doing that for nearly 13 years and you’d managed fine enough. The problem, as you saw it, was more along the lines that your employer and coworkers had no clue that someone your website wrote about frequently was recently spending his nights on your couch with a glass of wine in hand. 

Something about that sounded weird, and you were sure that Whitney wouldn’t go for it. 

You pulled up the new photo, holding the screen uncomfortably close to your face to study the grainy pixels. Of course--the one moment that he slung his arm around your shoulders was the one this person had chosen to capture. 

Y/N L/N (10:26am): Where are these? Can we get the person to take them down?

Alyssa (10:26am): They came up on my instagram explore tab. Random fan accounts. 

Y/N L/N (10:27am): Fuck. 

Alyssa (10:27am): I don’t think you should worry. They’re so blurry you can’t even tell if you’re a man or woman. 

Y/N L/N (10:28am): Great even better!

You dropped your phone into your desk drawer after telling Alyssa to keep an eye on the photos. She was right: they were blurry. You were hoping with everything in your soul that Carly was too busy to even check the internet today (unlikely, seeing as your job relied on that), or if she did, that she’d be too excited about the new gossip to even pause and consider the fact that the hair in the photo looked an awful lot like yours.

So you waited. You contemplated sneaking out to meet Alyssa for lunch, taking a look for yourself at the accounts that had uploaded the photos. You decided against it, though, when you realized that your absence might make you look even more suspicious. Flying under the radar as much as possible seemed like a good option. 

You kept your head in your work: a list about the funniest memes about Christmas, a quick round up of the weekend’s best celebrity tweets. You heated up your lunch and ate at your desk, hoping to avoid Carly at all costs.

You were successful up until you slipped into the kitchen on your floor to fill up your water bottle, hoping to blend in to the late-lunch crowd. Carly stood with her back to you, but soon turned around, her festive red sweater made her hard to miss. Upon meeting eyes with her, you looked down to your watch, pretending as if you’d suddenly remembered a meeting you were late for. 

You weren’t one to shy away from confrontation, but this one didn’t feel totally work appropriate. 

“Haven’t seen you all day,” she said, pulling her lunch from the microwave before offering a smile. “Busy or what?”

“Swamped,” you lied, pushing your water bottle up to the cooler in defeat, the bracelets on your wrist clinking together. “Ate at my desk, been pretty productive, so s’all good.”

“Feels busy around here in general. Christmas and shit,” she shrugged. “There was breaking news this morning that Harry went out on a date this weekend. I don’t know if you saw it--pictures and everything,” she wiggled her eyebrows as if you’d bite at the bait. 

You licked at your dry lips, a heat rising to your cheeks. “Really?”

She nodded, grabbing a napkin from the counter. “Can’t even tell who it is, probably some random model or something. I doubt it’s hard to find someone to sleep with when you’re Harry Styles, though, so--” she turned to head back towards her desk, calling over her shoulder. “Come find me later, we’ll grab a coffee and do edits together!”

You promised you would, thankful for the fact that she was an hour behind her target for the day and still hadn’t eaten. It gave you time to gain composure as you wove through cubes and conversations to make your way to Whitney’s corner office with sweeping city views. 

A sunny and cold day on the other side of the glass windows reminded you that winter was here--the small amount of snow left reflected sunlight like a broken mirror on the ground. Whitney had a folder on her desk and waved you in when you knocked, cell phone up to her ear.

She ended the call and thanked you for making the time, telling you to shut the door behind you, affording privacy to your conversation about your numbers and pay and overall transition into The Scoop. 

You told Whitney that you thought it was going well--you felt up to speed with the platform the website used, felt like you were staying on top of your category (even if it wasn’t your favorite). She complimented you on your ability to use humor in your stories and on social media platforms to enhance the mission of the website, she even said you’d been the second top writer for this quarter. 

“Rarely happens with someone so new,” she smiled, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her legs. “But be real with me--are you liking it? What do you wish was different? Any big fears?”

You bit at your lip, contemplating whether or not to disclose your desire to cover more news. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful or entitled, but you also trusted Whitney to handle any feedback you threw her way. “I mean, I guess I’d be interested in doing some more long form stories. Editorials or something.”

She nodded, waiting to see if you had more to say. When you let your lips press back together in a thin line, she offered a small smile. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” she told you, her tone made it sound like she was letting you down easy. “Gabrielle does most of the editorial pieces and Carly handles a lot of the pop culture news stuff that comes up for the entertainment department.”

You nodded--you knew the hierarchy. Gabrielle had been here longer than both you and Carly combined. She was only a step or two below Whitney and she seemed to sniff out good stories like it was second nature. She almost never wrote a flop. 

“Yeah, no, sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” you said, already regretting the words that you’d let slip.

“You’re not ungrateful,” Whitney said. “You’re looking for more growth. I like that. I’ll certainly keep it in mind, Y/N.”

“I do have a random question,” you said suddenly, the four walls of Whitney’s office feeling like a safe enough place to play out a scenario of what ifs. 

“Yeah?”

Whitney--as hip as she was--likely wasn’t paying attention to every waking detail of Harry’s life. You doubted she saw the photos and you figured you could be vague enough in your question. 

“Has anyone here ever had a conflict of interest issue?”

“Conflict of interest?” Whitney spoke the phrase like she didn’t know what it meant. You knew she did, so you gave an example. 

“Yeah, like, has anyone ever used their own tweets in a story or promoted a friend’s band or--I dunno, been friends with a celebrity that we cover?”

She let out a laugh, as if all of the examples were far fetched and unlikely. “I mean,” she shrugged. “Candace from beauty one time got in trouble downstairs for doing a whole write up on a makeup brand her sister was COO of,” she clenched her jaw and grimaced. “But no one up here--you’re all smarter than that.”                    

Right. Okay. So there was that.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Oh, just curious,” you waved a hand in the air, letting a forced laugh out as you looked out the window. “Sounds like a shit show.”

“Yeah--I mean, she got in trouble, but they figured it out. Anything else? I’ve got all of your stuff to proof before I head out early for yoga.”

“Nope, all good on this end.” You stood and gathered your water bottle and notebook. 

Whitney reopened her laptop and checked her phone. “Thanks for meeting with me, Y/N. We love you here and you’ve been a rockstar.”

You offered her a smile, appreciative of the praise and encouragement. Once she let her eyes fall back to her computer, you hurried over to your desk, reaching for your phone and praying that the photo hadn’t traveled any father. 

You composed a quick message to Harry. 

Y/N (3:17pm): Coming to yours when I’m out of work. We need to talk. 

**

The one problem about going to Harry’s after work was that he wasn’t home. So instead of storming into his apartment like you’d imagined, you had to wait patiently in a strange hallway in a big office building in Midtown. 

You checked your watch obsessively. You’d only been there for seven minutes so far, but it still felt like too long. You were rehearsing the words in your head, tiny fragments of an argument playing out before you even had the chance to tell him about the photos or the anxiety that came with them. 

You had no clue where you were. He’d sent another pin of his location and told you to text him when you arrived. A man at the front desk swiped a card for you to enter and instructed you to head to the 49th floor. So here, in another indistinguishable hallway (this time without a neon green wall), you waited. 

“Hi, hey,” his voice sounded from a doorway behind you, your body instinctively moving in the direction of his voice before you even locked eyes. “Everything okay, what’s wrong?”

His arms tried to envelope you, but before they could, you put a hand up to his chest. “We have to talk.”

“Okay,” he drew the syllables out, his head dipping to the side as he looked past your shoulder. “Come with me,” he took your hand and pulled you back towards where he came. Through a doorway, past a few people. A fitting, you realized. He was at some sort of wardrobe fitting. 

People stirred at tables beside you, yellow measuring tapes draped around their necks and white chalk stained their fingertips. He offered a smile to one woman in particular, one who seemed to be more interested in your presence than the others. He pulled you towards the other side of the room, your palm sweaty from the touch of his skin and the swirling desire in your head--the kind you tried (but failed) to ignore. 

Eventually you were in a back stairwell--one that was similar to the hiding spot you’d found last week at work. The door shut behind you, and Harry leaned his head out to ensure that no one was around to eavesdrop, he turned to offer you his full attention. “Alright, go.”

“Did you see the pictures of us?”

“Pictures?”

“Pictures.”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone in your pocket, pulling up Alyssa’s message and opening the two attachments she’d sent. “These.” You flipped it around to let his eyes scan over them.

He hummed and took the phone in his hand, the other reaching to rub the back of his neck. “I take it you’re not happy about it.”

His eyes raised to meet yours, your voice faltering as you spoke. “I--no, I just--I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to work where I work and be photographed with you.”

“Because of your friend?”

Carly--he meant Carly.

“No, not because of Carly. Because of me. It’s a conflict of interest, Harry. I can’t be your friend and potentially have to write a list about the ten funniest things you’ve ever said in interviews!”

He cracked a smile at this, but it faded altogether when you squinted up at him. 

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s blurry,” he brought your phone back to his face and inspected it more. “You can barely tell that’s you. If I didn’t know what you look like, I wouldn’t even guess.”

You swallowed, wondering if he ever studied your features like you did his. The dip in his top lip, the way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he laughed. 

“What’s the big deal, anyway? We’ve been friends forever, a lot of people do know that, you know.”

You couldn’t help but pull a face at his words. Friends forever? You corrected him. “Friends who haven’t had regular contact for the last, like, six years. Haven’t spoken at all in the last two.”

He let a breath out, one that told you he was bothered or angry or something. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted!”

You took a step back from him, suddenly overwhelmed as a thousand questions burrowed their way into your mind. “Whatever--I don’t even want to,” you cut yourself off. You weren’t ready to dig up the details of December 29th or launch into a conversation regarding the untethering of your friend group. “I just--I can’t fuck this job up, it’s a really good job.” 

“You’re not going to fuck it up, Smalls!” His words were harsh now despite the use of your nickname, his eyes wider than before as he tried to reassure you. “It’s just a photo. No one will know that’s you. We’ll just be careful.”

It didn’t feel that easy. 

“I mean, it might get you more reads, y’know.” A laugh tumbled out of his mouth with ease, a complete lack of awareness of the weight his words held. You pulled your eyes up to look at him, a heat in your chest present that he hadn’t ever ignited before. At least, not in the angry sense. 

“Are you implying that being friends with you will further my career and that I should be thankful for that?”

“No, I didn’t--I just mean that people love to read your stuff anyway. S’hilarious. If people knew that we were friends, that would make people really interested in you--more than they already are,” he tried to soften his words, flatten out the intention as if he hadn’t meant what he said. 

You shook your head, your gaze on the cement floor as you wondered why you even answered his text four days prior. Now, as the sun tried to peek through the dirty sliver of a window in the stairwell, answering felt like it was a bad choice. 

“I--okay, Harry--I’ll see you around,” you turned on one foot, hand on the doorknob before he could get in front of you. 

**

Monday, December 11th

Harry S (11:34pm): I’m sorry about today. I wasn’t trying to be a dick. 

Harry S (11:46pm): Sleep well

Tuesday, December 12th

Harry S (10:19am): What are you up to after work?

Friday, December 15th

Harry S (1:15pm): Alright. You’re mad. I get it. I was a dick.

Harry S (1:15pm): Can we please talk?

You always wished you were strong willed. You could be, in a lot of ways. Like the time you and Jessie took a painting class and you were complete shit. You spent hours researching the right brushes for the right types of paint and eventually, you figured it out. The summer heat back home turned sticky as you’d paint in your bedroom at night, a fan blowing sweet relief until you’d climb into cool sheets. 

Or even the time you’d decided to stand up to Holly McAdams in Year 3 when she told everyone that you had cooties. The playground went silent when you called her a liar and told her to put her energy towards good instead of evil. 

But when it came to Harry--you’d never been so lucky. He always had a charm about him that seemed to seep into your brain and turn it all to mush, tiny roots that wrapped around your neurons and seemed to rewire you entirely. Which is why, on Friday afternoon, you finally broke and called him on your commute home.

“Hi,” you said into the phone, holding onto the handrail in your subway car as it rounded a corner. The reception was shitty underground, but you committed yourself to the phone call and would recognize a dropped signal as a sign from the universe that it wasn’t meant to be. 

“Hi,” he said. 

You waited, unsure if he’d launch into an apology or let you take the first step. Silence.

“Sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I was busy at work and I fucked up a list and Whitney has been out sick--” you realized you were doing it. You were apologizing when you hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been the one to fuck up and now you were apologizing? You back tracked. “And yeah, I mean, you were a dick, so.”

He laughed, the sound immediately easing some of the tension between you. “I get that. I’m sorry--I should have known that you’re not,” he paused. A woman beside you sneezed into her elbow, you inched away from her to avoid contamination, sandwiched between strangers. “You’re not impressed by the fame,” he spoke dramatically, your lips involuntarily twitching towards the sky--or, in your current situation, the ground above.

“I’m sure not. Never have been, never will be.”

“Are you out of work now?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

You let out a sigh, you’d been dreaming about it all day. “Nothing--I’m going to sit on my couch and eat a bowl of cereal and pray that I don’t catch whatever is going around the office. I already kind of have a sore throat and I’m not trying to be sick for Christmas.”

“Well,” he laughed. “I wish you the best with that, then.”

A tangle of disappointment in your gut when he didn’t ask you to hang out. 

“Thanks. I’ll--uh--talk to you later?”

“Yeah, Smalls, talk to you later.”

You hung up, sliding your phone back into your pocket and shrinking into your coat for the remainder of the ride. When you climbed the twenty three steps to ground level at your stop, the sun had already sunk below the skyline, traces of light sneaking between the buildings on your block. 

Alyssa had worked from home for the day, turning the living room into an office as she sat sprawled out on the couch. She’d also been coming down with something--her nose red and dry from all of her tissue use. 

“Hi,” she greeted, pulling out her headphones and looking up at you when you came through the door, the room once again lit with the glow of Christmas lights. “How was work?”

“Fine, long, T-G-I-F,” you laughed. “How do you feel?”

“Somewhat better. Still crappy, though. How’s your throat?”

You dropped your purse to the floor and hung up your coat. “Worse than this morning. I talked to Harry though.”

She pulled her earbuds out and grinned up at you. “Was he so apologetic? I feel like he’d feel so guilty knowing he upset you--”

You shot her one of those looks: the kind that told her she was getting too wrapped up in his charm and fame and good looks. 

She cleared her throat. “But he was a dick so he should feel guilty.”

You kicked your shoes off, the leather of your boots falling against the wood floor before you settled into the couch. “He was apologetic--but it was quick. Who knows when I’ll see him next, maybe when we’re home.”

Alyssa bit her tongue--you could see that she had something to say but you didn’t press it, unsure if you had the emotional energy for a conversation about why being friends with Harry again wasn’t the smartest idea. 

She looked back to her screen, finishing up a few emails as you sunk into the couch, your eyes glued to your phone as you read through comments on the picture of you and Harry. 

I bet she’s just a friend--they look totally platonic. 

HE’S TOTALLY DATING SOMEONE! 

Skjdhfkjdshfkjdhk!!!!

The picture is way too fucking grainy how are we supposed to sleuth this one out?!

Alyssa sighed and closed her laptop. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Ugh,” you let out a groan, exiting out of instagram quickly to avoid showing her the things people were saying. If you had to guess, you’d say that Alyssa had a similar nightly ritual over the past few days. Wash her face, brush her teeth, climb into bed and read what strangers were saying about you online. 

The only good thing, really, was that people didn’t know it was you. 

“I’m not in the mood to cook,” you said.

As soon as the words left your mouth, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, the same obnoxious picture of Harry in an apron lighting up the screen as you both brought yours eyes down to the buzzing technology, then back up to each other. 

“Answer it,” she said excitedly, her lips curling towards the ceiling. 

You shot her a look as you reached for it. “Not on the first ring--can’t seem too eager.”

“As if you’re not eager,” she teased, returned the eye roll pleasantry, pulling a laugh from you as you answered the call. 

“Hi,” you said quickly, pressing the speaker phone button and holding it in the air between the two of you on the couch. 

“Hey--I’m following protocol and giving you a warning that I’ll be over in like--eh--four minutes.”

“What?” You asked. “Why?”

Alyssa looked around the room nervously, taking an inventory of the items that were hers. She sprung into action quickly, trying to declutter her home-office--notebooks, sharpies, her glasses and tissues were spread out around the living room space. 

“I’ve got food. Figured you wouldn’t want to cook if you weren’t feeling well.”

Alyssa stopped dead in her tracks, turning to you with her hands over her heart and lips in a lovestruck frown, completely enchanted by his words. You lifted your middle finger in her direction before turning towards the back of the sofa. Alyssa headed into her bedroom.

“You don’t have to do that, I mean--thank you, obviously, but, I totally get it if you’re busy.”

“M’not,” he said simply. “Stuff is dying down now anyway since we’re leaving soon.” You noticed his pronoun choice, casually dropped into the sentence as he kept talking. “I’ll wait until the coast is clear, alright? Just buzz me in when I text you.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Alright.”

Alyssa popped back into the room when she heard you hang up, her brows raised suggestively.

“What?” You asked, your tone slightly defensive as she pulled her head through the neck of her sweatshirt. 

“Just, interesting, is all. Awfully sweet of him.”

You stood from the couch, watching as she bent over once more to gather more of her belongings from the area rug below. “Oh come off it,” you said.

She pulled a face, confused by your slang as she reached for a pen that had wandered beneath the coffee table. 

“S’not a big deal,” you edited your words so she’d understand. “We’re friends.”

She hummed in disagreement, you trailed behind her towards her bedroom, socked feet gliding along the hard wood. Alyssa’s room was dark, the beige walls covered in posters of bands and movies. Her bed was unmade and the floor was littered in clothing of days past. 

You leaned against the doorframe. “How could you think we’re anything more than that after hearing the full story of what happened that night?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a dismissive look. “S’been a while, things change. You don’t just bring food to your sick friend.”

“Sure you do,” you narrowed your eyes at her. “That’s exactly what friends do, Lyss.”

She picked up a shirt from the floor and folded it into quarters. “Just seems like there’s always been chemistry. One shitty night--as embarrassing as it was--doesn’t mean there’s not chemistry.”

You thought on her words, careful to not let them settle too deep in your heart. They floated in the air in front of you, vanishing altogether when an electric buzz leaked through the intercom by the door.

You ran over--quick to make sure he could sneak in undetected--and held a thumb to the button to grant him entrance. 

Seventy-three seconds until there was a knock on the door, a pizza in his hand, and a bottle of wine pulled from the shelf in the kitchen. Alyssa--who was never one to turn down some Pinot Noir--had chosen the nicest bottle you had. A gift from her mother when she got a promotion. 

Eventually, the three of you were sat around the coffee table, throw pillows serving as seats as you reached for second slices. Music drifted from the small speaker on the bookshelf, the scene similar to that of last weekend, except this time Alyssa was here. It was funny how things with Harry could feel exactly the same as they’d once been, yet entirely different in the same breath.

“Did she ever tell you about the time that we stayed up all night at Jessie’s house when we were fourteen because of some stupid internet challenge?”

Alyssa pulled a smile, her eyes darting over to me quickly. “Of course she didn’t.”

“S’cause it was stupid. You’re the one who barely made it. Everyone else was fine but when five AM came you were seriously dragging.”

He contorted his face into one of mock-offense. “Excuse me for having good sleep hygiene and a healthy need for some shut-eye.”

“You guys were allowed to have co-ed sleepovers at fourteen?” Alyssa asked, holding a hand up in student fashion. She folded her pizza in half, a boat of cheese and grease and pepperoni. 

You let out a laugh, knowing that Harry’d want to explain the mastermind plan that he and Adam had come up with nearly ten years ago. 

“So we did this thing, where the girls would tell their mums that they were at someone’s house. So they’d say they were at Bryn’s, but Bryn would say she was at Y/N’s,” he smiled in your direction--the adrenaline of lying to your parents came back as a small wave, less exciting than in times past but still enough to keep a grin plastered to your face. 

“And the guys would do the same. We always said we were at Adam’s though--and I dunno what Adam would say cause his parents never asked any questions. So then we’d go to Jessie’s because her parents were always away for work, and--yeah, madness would ensue.”

“S’where we first drank, pretty sure that’s where Adam finally called Sophie Kneeland and asked her out over the phone.”

“S’also where Smalls blacked out the first time when we were fifteen or sixteen,” he let out a laugh and turned to Alyssa. 

Her eyes went wide as she folded her legs beneath her. Your stomach dropped though, seeing as now didn’t feel like a good time to recount all the times you’d done stupid things when you were drunk. You could probably spend hours on that topic alone. 

“Okay--alright, anyway,” you said, clearing your throat quickly. A car horn beeped outside, momentarily shattering the safety of the cozy room. 

“Hey, also,” Harry wiped at his mouth with a napkin and pointed a finger at your roommate. “Did you appreciate my warning--a whole five minutes!”

“Four,” you said, his eyes rolling in response to your correction. 

“Better than zero,” Alyssa nodded, taking a sip of wine. “Maybe we can work you all the way up to asking before you show up,” she teased.

Harry frowned at this. A dimple appeared in his cheek and he looked over to you quickly. “I brought food--” his gaze drifted back to Alyssa. “And enough for you, if you forgot.”

“You should have seen her cleaning up all her shit in here,” you laughed. “Notebooks every where, like a bomb went off.”

“I was working,” she defended. “What did you do today, Harry?”

“Hmm,” he thought aloud. “Woke up at eight--went to the gym. Showered and finalized the set list for the next leg of tour. Had a meeting with my manager and PR team about what’s coming up after the holidays. Lunch, then I had to go back to a fitting for more wardrobe stuff. Talked with Erica about the flight home, side note,” he looked to you. “Then I got your call and decided to come here.”

You were both quiet for a second--Alyssa had been challenging him, her assumption that he’d had a quiet day that couldn’t have nearly been as busy as hers. He took a deep breath and took a swig of wine. 

You knew that he was busy--you’d always assumed that being famous came with plenty of downfalls and responsibilities, but hearing them all listed out in succession without a breath in between made induced a wave of guilt to pass through your veins. 

Of course it was hard for him to keep in touch, if even his slower days looked like that. 

“But about the flight,” he pointed a finger at you and then set his wine glass down. “Two tickets on the red eye for the 20th. I’d say we could charter something but first class on the big planes is always really nice. They give you a free eye patch.”

“Eye patch?” Alyssa asked, her tone drifting up in confusion. 

“The ones you sleep with.”

“Eye mask,” you nodded.

“Oh whatever, you knew what I meant,” Harry squinted his eyes and reached for the bottle for a refill. 

“What do you mean a big plane, though? How big are we talking?”

“The double deckers--they have little cubbies in first class. Little doors and everything--super private, which is nice.”

“You fly on public planes?” Another question from Alyssa--your personal peanut gallery--as you watched Harry take the stopper out of the bottle before pouring more into his glass. 

“Yeah--s’better for the environment.”

Alyssa’s eyes went wide and she got that same look when he’d said he was bringing food--her brain and heart melting inside her, almost spilling out onto the oriental rug.

“Alyssa,” you said her name quickly as you stood from your orange and yellow throw pillow seat. “Want to help me with something in the kitchen?”

“What? What do you need help with?”

“Uh,” you looked around the room, trying to think on your feet. “The leftovers--the pizza.”

Harry, sat on the floor between the two of you, looked up. “I can help.”

“No.” You said quickly. “You stay. Pick a new playlist,” you instructed, hoping that a responsibility would keep him occupied. You gave Alyssa a prompting look, causing her to reluctantly stand and follow you around the corner to the kitchen.

“Can you not with the faces?” You asked, turning around once you were shielded by the wall between the two rooms. “Any time he says something relatively endearing you look like you’re about to combust or orgasm or something.”

“If I was about to orgasm, you’d know it,” she smirked, her voice low and sultry as you rolled your eyes. You’d grabbed the pizza on your way, so you reached into a drawer for aluminum foil and then tossed the box into the garbage.

“You get my point.”

“I do--but come on, Y/N! He’s literally acting like your boyfriend! Buying you a plane ticket even though you already have one? Bringing you dinner because you mentioned in passing that you weren’t feeling well? And now he’s climate conscious, too?!”

You passed her the foil-wrapped pizza and she put it into the fridge. A shrug of your shoulders, as if to dilute the air around you. 

“He’s alright,” you said, the words an act of self-defense, an antidote for the love potion Alyssa was verbally concocting. 

She rolled her eyes when she turned around to face you. “Relax, will you? It’s alright to be into him.”

“No it’s not, Alyssa,” you said, your voice more firm now. “You don’t know him, okay? You don’t know what happened back then and the way our friendship was and--just, leave it alone, alright?”

She paused, her eyes scanning your face, both of you staring at each other in silence. The kitchen clock ticked on the wall, seconds scattered through the room. 

Harry’s voice floated above the music from the other room, “some classic Christmas tunes, yeah?”

So you left it at that. There was no need to defend yourself more than you already had, the reasons stacking high as to why shouldn’t go down this road. Harry was on two feet in the living room, swaying back and forth to the music as Alyssa followed you back to the couch. 

You poured yourself another glass of wine, watching as he playfully took Alyssa’s hand, spinning her into his side as they waltzed in circles around the coffee table. 

**

You pulled your carryon closer to your body, wishing you could absorb it into your being as you forced your way past people already in line. Sorry, excuse me, sorry, thanks, gotta get by. 

The airport was busier than you expected. Your mum had told you on the phone that the afternoon would be the worst time of day, a wave of relief washing over you when you confirmed that Harry had booked the red eye. That relief vanished altogether when you stepped foot into the bustling airport, children running, intercoms beeping. 

Your passport was in your hand, the ticket slipped between pages filled with colorful stamps. An elbow into your stomach, you hiked the bag up your shoulder more. 

“I’m so sorry, hi, name is Y/N L/N, I was supposed to board already, uh--my friend is already seated I think.” 

The woman at the desk looked at you with an unimpressed stare, her fingers clicking on the keyboard as she held a hand out. You assumed she wanted your ticket, so you thumbed it out of the booklet and slapped it down. 

Her eyes scanned the paper before the computer did, when it beeped, the expression on her face changed. “Oh, Miss L/N,” she smiled up at you. “No worries, we can take you to your seat right now.”

“Oh, I can, I’ll just take myself,” you said awkwardly, looking around to see who else she was referring to. Other gate workers were nearby, clad in the traditional British Airways uniforms as the airport continued to buzz with Christmas cheer. Apparently flying first class had its perks.

And you would have already been seated if you’d just agreed to travel to the airport with Harry, but you had plenty of things to tie up at work before heading out for a whopping 12 days. It wasn’t typical to take so much time off in a role like yours, but Whitney was feeling generous and you’d agreed to work a few days remotely. 

So instead of sitting in the back of the same black Chevy Suburban with Roger narrating the drive, you’d crammed your suitcase into the trunk of an Uber and hoped that the traffic out to Long Island wasn’t impossible. 

It was. 

A man with a friendly smile took your bag from your shoulder, leading you around the counter and on to the jet way, veering left at the fork. The temperature shifted as you moved farther from the structure of the airport--the winter New York night seeping in through the cracks of the beige tunnel walls. Posters of happy travelers and airport workers smiled down on you, to fly, to serve. Their eyes watched you pad down the dull gray carpet towards the plane.

Smiles from flight attendants when you crossed the threshold, greeting you by name as your companion put an arm out, urging you in before him. 

The interior of the plane was dimly lit a calming blue--the windows shaded electronically, making them appear to be black eyes into the night. You passed a galley stocked with coffee, tea, British Airways water bottles, heading down an aisle past cushioned seats--ones much nicer than the economy class you were used to flying. You’d assumed this was your section--each seat had armrests big enough for giants--but you passed through a curtain to find a section of small cubicles, not much different than your office. 

One on each side, two in the middle. 

“Had to give up the window for you,” you heard a voice sound from two rows ahead. A dimpled smile looked your way, when you met his gaze, you shook your head. 

“This is incredible,” you looked around, taking in the sight of other suited men and bejeweled women settling in for the trip. “I didn’t even know shit like this existed.”

The man set the bag down on your seat, disappearing without a trace as Harry handed you something wrapped in plastic. “Your eye mask,” he delivered it with two hands, bowing his head to pull a giggle from your lips. 

“Seriously,” you took it from him and let out a huff as you pushed the bag to the floor, slumping into the extra-roomy chair. “This is absurd. The traffic was terrible and I almost thought they wouldn’t let me on.”

“Shoulda come with me,” he said simply, his tone almost melodic. “The club they let you wait in is even better.”

You looked around again, surprised that Harry was able to exist in peace in front of so many strangers. “I can’t believe you fly on these--you don’t get mobbed?”

He handed you a packaged piece of chocolate from a small cubby in the wall in front of your chairs. A flat screen stared back at you, your fingers tugging at the wrapper before plopping the candy into your mouth automatically.

“Not really--these people are all too busy with their own shit,” he motioned around the room, both of your eyes landing on a man who was animatedly speaking into his cell phone. “A few pictures, maybe. If we’re lucky we’ll sleep.”

You nodded, content for a moment to just catch your breath, take in the surroundings of first class, and just be. Harry reminded you of the plans you’d set with your friends: a reunion at the Red Lion on the 23rd. It’d be the six of you for sure, but there’d likely be others who you’d all invite--running into other classmates at Sainsbury’s or Costa wasn’t unheard of. 

You’d done the same thing in years past--your entire class heading for drinks and catch up conversations when everyone was back in town. The only difference was that this time, Harry would be tagging along. 

If anything, you were more nervous about the six of you being back together than you were about seeing people like Maddie Winslow or even Kenny Tilley. None of them knew about that night. Luckily--as obnoxious and outlandish as they could be--Jessie, Adam, Jake, and Bryn had managed to keep their mouths shut despite knowing the ins and outs of what had happened. 

Which, when you thought about it, meant Harry had, too. He hadn’t told anyone about the things you’d said or done. He didn’t rub it in your face or try to embarrass you in front of anyone else. The details of December 29th, 2015, would hopefully stay between the six of you for a long time to come.

After a good fifteen minutes on the runway, the plane was airborne. Estimated flight time six hours and thirty-five minutes, if we’re lucky, the captain said. You told Harry about your week and the things you’d rushed through this afternoon to leave work before 4pm. He laughed about the traffic and poked you in the shoulder when you rolled your eyes at him. 

Thirty minutes later he turned to look at you, a strand of hair dipping down to his forehead. 

“Smalls,” he said quietly. 

“Hmm?” You turned to look at him, mid-chapstick application. 

“I’m glad we’re hanging out.”

You stared at him for a second, your face tingly and hot when his lips twitched up into a smile. You nodded, broke eye contact, and capped your chapstick. “Mhm, yeah, me too.”

“Smalls,” he said it again, this time you looked at him more seriously. 

“What?”

“Can we talk about it?”

You could have sworn the world went silent--the hum of the plane’s four engines suddenly muted as he stared back at you with emerald eyes. 

Somewhere in the world there were ocean waves so high they could knock a boat off course. There were rainforests and mountains and deserts so dry they made the airplane cabin feel humid. You wished, as you sat next to him, miles of space between your feet and the ground, that you could be anywhere but here. 

You opened your mouth to speak, words escaping you. You shook your head. 

“Y/N, I just--”

“No,” you said. “Forget it. We both said we would forget it.”

He licked his lips, quiet for a second as he dropped his gaze to the carpeted floor. You stood up quickly, hoping an escape to the bathroom would place air and time between the two of you. You were stuck, though. You pushed the button twice that was meant to open the sliding door out of your tiny space--a human height shield from the other passengers. 

You pressed it again, more frustrated each time your finger met the hard plastic.

“Here,” he said behind you, reaching past you to press the button right beside it. “You were pressing close.”

“Right.”

The door slid open, a flight attendant offered you a smile as she waited for you to exit in front of her. Down the hall, into the bathroom--much bigger than economy. A full length mirror, a toilet that actually resembled a toilet. 

The door shut and latched behind you. Silence. You couldn’t talk about it with him. That would be more embarrassing than the night itself. What were you supposed to say? I’m sorry? I didn’t mean it? I did mean it? You’d said all of those things before--in quick succession and with a heartbeat so fast you could have passed out. 

A knock on the door. One second, you called out, turning the water on for a moment as if to make it sound like you were doing something other than panicking. You brushed past the stranger on the outside, offering an apologetic smile before heading back to your seat. When you got back, Harry had headphones in and a movie on the screen in front of him. 

Thank god. 

He smiled at you subtly, leaning forward to offer you a glass of champagne--someone must had dropped them off while you were losing your shit in the bathroom. You took it from him without a word, taking a sip as he took one earbud out of his ear and offered it to you. You pushed it into place and leaned back in the chair, still trying to catch your breath, grateful for the fact that he dropped it. 

You didn’t need the whole plane ride to be awkward. If there was ever to be a moment for the two of you to talk about the ghosts of Christmas past, literally, it wasn’t right now. The trip would be nice with a movie and a nap--free chocolates and eye masks, too.

And besides, champagne tasted better at thirty thousand feet.

here’s what first class looks like for Harry and Y/N

read the other parts here

AN: big thanks to those of you reading big thanks for all of the messages!!! be sure to let me know what you think? Anyone want to take a guess as to what happened on 12/29/15?

tag list: @clorenafila​ @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry @jdcharliewhiskey @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon​ @jdcharliewhiskey @sad-little-asshole @ainsleesolareclipse @clorenafila​ @shawnsblue​  @gendryia​ @g0bl1nqueen​  @laula843​ @pinkpolaroidgirl @4592222 @flooome​ @craic-head-horan @a-woman-without-a-plan @awomanindeniall​  @shaw-nm​ @staceystoleyourheart​

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 03 | Processing Power | KNJ (M)

Last time on LB02: You’re mortified as Jimin, Hoseok, and Namjoon view your tinder profile on the way to the club. So as soon as you get there, you get as drunk as possible to forget about it, which leads to a breach in the firewall later on. Namjoon denies he has any feelings for you, but it’s clear to Hoseok that he’s a damn liar and he’s determined to get in the middle of it.

Rating: M (18+)

Word Count: 10.9K

Series: Love Bytes (3/?)

Genre: F2L, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension eventual smut, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, S O F T Namjoon, embarrassingReader

CW: fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism,

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter 

A/N: I work a lot of insane hours so I barely have any spare time, but I enjoy writing this, even though I still feel anxious sharing. So please leave a comment if you like; it makes my day!

Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You’re absolutely lost in the way Jimin’s tongue is dragging down into your cleavage when you feel the buzz of your phone press against your chest; you had forgotten it was there.

He pulls back, startled by the vibration, then laughs. “Maybe it’s Tinder? Could be someone interested... Aren’t you going to look?”

“Nope,” you hum against his neck, suctioning your lips over the exposed skin

A low groan escapes his throat and he reluctantly drags you by the chin, cradling your face with one hand. “My agent will kill me if I show up to work with hickeys.”

“I won’t leave any. I’ll be good,” you promise, knowing full well the honeyed words are pretty lies spilling from lips too drunk to have pure intentions.

He laughs again. “I don’t believe you. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make some.”

His tongue laves across your neck, crossing your collarbone and meeting the exposed flesh of your chest again. The sensation of his mouth clamping down in combination with his pelvis grinding up between your thighs causes you to throw your head back. You feign resistance with the most pathetic “Jimin don’t” as you have a hand roaming through his hair.

BUZZ. BUZZ.

You curse your pockets for being too small to fit your phone as the vibrations give Jimin pause for a second time tonight. It’s only a moment before he smiles and returns to your bosom. Immediately the drone of a text alert goes off again. He blinks a few times and stares up at you. Again and again the notification buzz has you patting your chest, trying to desperately stop it.

What the fuck! Come on!

He peels himself back, taking a deep breath. Your body is weeping at the loss of his warmth against you. He fans himself with a goofy smile, and even in the dim light you can see the sweat beading along his forehead. “You should see who wants to talk to you. I need to get some more air anyway.”

His fingers trace a line across your jaw and he rests a thumb on your lip. “Join me when you’re ready?”

With that, he playfully boops you on the nose and disappears in the crowd before you can ask if he would rather just get out of here. Taking your phone out of the pocket between your bra and tit, you swipe at the screen to see messages from Hoseok and Namjoon. Your brows furrow as you try to navigate away from the dance floor while concentrating on the screen. You decide to open Hoseok’s first, as your mind is annoyed with Joonie, though you can’t quite remember why.

Hobi 😛: i see you Hobi 😛: dirty Hobi 😛: girl!!!! Hobi 😛: 😧 Hobi 😛: are you really going to fuck jimin right here 🙊🙈 Hobi 😛: WHERE I CAN SEE???? 🤤 i hope so

As dark and loud as the dance floor is, you become keenly aware of the bodies around you, your skin blazing. Before you can think of response that will save face, arms are snaking around you from behind. Large, slender fingers fold across your waist.

His voice is already at your ear, causing your eyelashes to flutter and heat to pool between your legs all over again. “If you wanted to fuck while dancing, you should have just asked me... Dirty girl.”

You smack him on the arm and he concedes with a giggle, letting you squirm from his grasp and face him. “Oh my god will you please stop saying that?”

The wide grin on his face threatens to spread a sheepish one to yours, despite fighting to remain stoic. It seems as though Hoseok has a penchant for ruminating on humiliation, especially yours-- and you don’t want to give the satisfaction of letting him know exactly how mortified you feel in this moment.

His hands grip your cheeks tightly. “I just can’t believe you’re about to get laid! I’m so proud!”

“Hobi please. It’s not like that,” you begin, trying to hopelessly hide the shameful way your legs cling together.

It’s not like that. Not the first time he’s heard that one tonight. Hoseok knows for damn sure if you and Namjoon are using the same defensive phrases, things are one hundred percent like that. He rolls his eyes, roaming his hands over your hips and rocking them back and forth. Just like that he has control, making you feel compelled to move yours in time with his.

“If it’s not like that then stay with me. I’ll show you a good time.” His husky voice has you hypnotized, swallowing hard as you clutch the phone in your hand. “No Jimin, no Tinder. Just you and me, sweetheart.”

“H-Hobi...” your voice is pitiful and weak as it escapes.

Things are tense only for a moment and you’re sweating as you realize he may very well go in for the kill, the same way Jimin did. But the moment passes and he laughs, pulling away from you. “You’re so easy, Y/N. How can it be so hard for you to hook up? If it doesn’t happen soon, then you call me and I will help you out, no strings attached.”

You’re not sure if you should feel flattered or pissed off as he winks and begins circling you, as if to let you consider the offer. The alcohol swimming through your head is making it hard for you to be sure about anything, so you choose to ignore the way he just suggested pimping himself out to you as a thing your brain made up rather than words that were actually uttered by the gorgeous Jung Hoseok. Making out with Park Jimin had already maxed out your suspension of belief. Hobi was just joking. He had to be, right? Maybe you would just wake up sweating in another minute. Then again, if this was a dream, maybe you could press your luck and have a threesome? Could alcohol ever make you that bold? You chuckle at the thought. No fucking way.

Hoseok starts to casually stroll away, before he turns back, a brief pained expression striking his features.“Oh, before I forget! Namjoon was looking for you earlier.” He makes a lewd jacking-off motion as he smiles big once more. “Maybe talk to him before you get your rocks off with Jimin?” Before you can respond, he spins back towards the crowd, rolling his body to the music and internally applauding his performance as master cockblock. You shake your head as he goes, the irritation of being called easy paling in comparison to the sexual frustration lingering deep in your belly. With a grumble, you pull out your phone to glance at Namjoon’s text, noting the timestamp was much earlier in the night.

Joonie 😬: Remember. 🔥🧱

The fire and brick emojis immediately brought a pang of guilt through your heart. He had tried to remind you of exactly what you had asked. It was a little late now and you couldn’t help but feel like you may have ruined a friendship that you swore you would never interfere with. You struggle to not topple over, taking a moment to stand in place and try to fix what you feel in your gut is absolutely broken. Each text you attempt to compose only gets worse and you contend with the words forming on screen whilst getting elbowed by the dancers surrounding you.

You decide it’s too hard to accomplish in your current environment and make a beeline for the bathroom. There’s nothing that a good long pee and a hard look in the mirror can’t help you fix on a drunken night. You take a moment to survey the bathroom, noting each stall is occupied and a pack of women line the wall, waiting for their turn. You stumble over to the mirror to address your swollen racoon eyes, wiping excess mascara and eyeliner from your face and taking a deep breath. Making your way back out to the main floor, your eyes scour the room for alternatives and realize there’s another tier hardly anyone uses unless they’re in need of some privacy. As long as you keep your head down and avoid eye contact, you feel confident you can just chill in the restroom upstairs and think.

On your way up you immediately disregard the rules you just set, letting your eyes wander to a pair of bright red heels, finding legs partially agape. Next to those are sneakers --the wide spread of legs indicating a man, and finally a single black heel on the floor with the woman’s other leg stretched out over the man’s lap. Your eyes quickly travel up the owners’ legs and find the man’s hands planted underneath both women’s dresses. Black-heels has her panties thoroughly exposed, bush out. You watch in awe, jaw dropping as you take in the sight of the deft fingers sliding in and out of her dripping cunt.

Every fiber of your being screams to avert your gaze. But the shock of what you’re seeing has you paralyzed, leaning against the railing for support as your mouth hangs stupidly agape. Her hips greedily chase his palm each time it leaves the comfort of her clit, fucking his fingers further inside. She’s got her eyes closed; no doubt lost in the feeling, completely forgetting her surroundings as she squeaks out the kind of long, high-pitched moans you’ve only ever heard in pornos. The other woman is much quieter, more reserved as he rams his fingers into her, and seeks refuge in the crook of his neck.

Again you try to will the movement of your legs, but it seems more and more futile the longer you gawk, especially after you recognize the glint of faded green hair.

Oh fuck.

Now you’re desperate to keep moving, but your legs are still concrete. You’re drinking in the sight him finger-fucking not one, but two women in a public setting-- all while whispering something to the one who’s obviously embarrassed but doing nothing but parting her legs further. Honestly, you couldn’t blame her after watching the skillful way he slid into black-heels’ cunt while rubbing her clit with his thumb.

Is he really doing that to red-heels, too? Fuck. Me.

Yoongi ticks his jaw, an action you had seen him do many times in annoyance; now keenly aware of the audience. A heavy-lidded side-eye in your direction has your heart pounding. You’re using the same tactic that had failed on Hoseok: remain perfectly still to blend with the surroundings, praying again that the rules have changed and all hot guys now have movement-based vision.

Shitshitshitshit. Homer Simpson meme this shit. Come on, legs! Do something! Oh fuck. Jesus Christ. If there is such a thing as a merciful god, please let me die right now.

Slowly his head turns towards you, an expression on his face both deliciously sinful and wildly intimidating. You’re left stranded, trembling as his sinister gaze falls on you, furrowed brow challenging you to keep watching the show. His movements begin to slow on black-heels and he drags his digits at a leisurely pace, sure to spread her lips in a way that gives you a clearer view of his fingers disappearing inside her. 

He surveys your face, the faintest hint of a smirk knotting at the corners of his mouth. You can’t help the bug-eyed response, resolve completely crumpling beneath his ruthless scrutiny. Your legs are wobbling beneath you, threatening to toss your ass down the stairs if you don’t do something.

But here you stand, quaking at the sight before you. Yoongi’s perverse eyes roam your face, drinking in every last detail in your expression. But black-heels has had enough of the teasing, lingering strokes. She claws along his shirt in desperation, begging him to pick up the pace and stealing his attention.

She trails long fingernails down toward his chest and along his sweatpants, blindly grasping for the bulge she knows is hidden there. His eyelids flutter for a millisecond and you make a clumsy point to peer at the length. You swallow, throat incredibly dry as you watch the lewd display of Yoongi inserting a third finger into the woman and increasing the speed of his thrusts. She keens, throwing her head back against the couch.

His eyes fix themselves on you again, dark and full of power. You get the sense that the longer you stay, the more interest he gains in making you his next objective. His fingers glide in and out of her slick at a vigorous pace, making her arch her back above the couch. Meanwhile he’s looking as though he wants to devour you, as though making this girl cum is simply an obstacle to achieving that goal. You’re struggling to hinge your jaw shut, realizing now that you’re bobbing your head lightly along with the thrusts. Or maybe you’re just shaking that much; it’s hard to tell.

“Do you like it?” He asks loud enough to be heard over black-heels, knowing full well the question is aimed at you.

She responds with an exaggerated moan that vaguely sounds like a yes and rolls her head forward. In that moment she finds your slack-jawed, fucked-out stare. Finally your mouth snaps shut, guilty eyes darting away from the scene. You manage to purse your lips, heat flaring in your cheeks.

Instead of hiding and letting embarrassment consume her, she smiles wickedly, recognizing the envy and desire on your face. She thrusts her hips harder onto his dripping fingers, telling you it’s still her turn, but she wouldn’t mind if you wanted to join too. Yoongi cracks a smile, leaning in to bite her bottom lip and give you a chance to see what you’re missing. You shake your head and shriek out an apology before covering your peripheral with a hand and finally finding the strength to leave.

___

You’ve been sitting in the empty bathroom for what seems like an eternity, head resting against the toilet paper roll as you glare at the blinking cursor on your phone. You’re trying to forget the way Yoongi had stared you down as he pumped his fingers in and out of those girls and you pray they won’t make their way in here while you attempt to string together an apologetic text message to Namjoon. ‘I’m sorry I kissed your friend after I said I wouldn’t’ seemed like an incredibly shitty thing to text. But the fact that you were thinking so hard about it probably meant you weren’t as drunk as you thought, right? Your body counters that thought with a hiccup that makes you queasy.

Your stomach swirls, heat gathering in your cheeks as sweat beads off your forehead. You roll your head to the side, fighting back the nausea in your gut as you type. The tremble of thighs against your elbows has increased the difficulty of composing a message, but you find that you can’t make them stop and you’re too tired to lift your arms up further. How do you even start?

You: Joon ifucked up

Ah yes, very finely crafted. Send.

A minute passes as you wait for the dots to come that indicate a response. Nothing. You roll your head against the stall, feeling like you just need a second to collect yourself, if only the room would stop moving. The pop of unfastened metal echoes throughout the stall as the cheap toilet paper dispenser springs open against the pressure of your head. Grumbling, you adjust the roll of toilet paper currently acting as your pillow and smack the side of the dispenser shut.

Regret hits you immediately as you feel the unmistakable snag of your hair caught in the metal. You try to push the metal back open but you find it stalwart and unyielding.

Are you fucking kidding me.

You do your best to calm yourself and card your fingers through bits of knotted hair, carefully attempting to yank it free. When it doesn’t work and you can’t stomach the pain of pulling out a giant tuft, panic sets in and you sink to your knees, twisting your body to try and get a better look at where it’s caught. Suddenly you’re very grateful that you had already relieved yourself because this would be ten times worse if your pants were around your ankles.

BUZZ. BUZZ.

Fuck. Of course it would be now. You open the message, staving off another wave of nausea from being so close to the toilet.

Joonie: Ok what did you do? You: i kissed iruined evrtyghin Joonie: Who we talking about here?

You can’t bring yourself to type any more and resume working out the knots in your hair. This is the worst place to be having this conversation. The buzz goes off again and you’re compelled to look, getting more and more frustrated with your current predicament. You give up and sit there with your head stuck to the dispenser.

Joonie: Hellooooooooo Joonie: You still there Geeksquad You: I BORK FIREWALL

Immediately Namjoon sends a picture of a silly dog with a comic sans caption “bork bork bork.” You can’t stop the laugh bubbling in your throat.

You: GDI JOON HTIS IS SRS >:\ You: ikissed mjinni like hot and sweat Joonie: WHO? How drunk are you rn? You: 🍆 You: ALSO FUCK YOU Joonie: Ah… So did you suck his dick? You: STOP Joonie: Please tell me you’re not in the bathroom throwing up on his dick You: 😭😭 Joonie: Please tell me you’re not in the bathroom CRYING on his dick You: HE’S 🍆 U LIED JOON if elt it Joonie: What. The. Fuck. 

You sigh, head aching as you try to pull it back again. You know he would help you if you only asked, but goddamn this was such a shitty, embarrassing place to be. The breath hitches in your throat as you analyze the situation; would it be better to sleep like this and let a janitor find you and assume you’re dead, or let Namjoon tease the shit out of you? It was a close call at the moment and you weren’t sure which you actually preferred. Wasn’t there someone else you could text?

You think about Jen, the only real friend you have outside of Joon’s circle. You’d shared more than a few classes during your college years: she was a Graphic Design major and you were a programming/IT major so a lot of the core requirements were similar. When you couldn’t afford to scrounge enough change for coffee, you’d bribe her to buy you drinks in exchange for tutoring lessons in web programming. She’d been your friend for several years now, but she was out of town visiting her parents. Maybe if you ask nicely she’d drive two hours just to get you out of this mess? You frantically swipe your fingers across the screen, trying not to sound like anything is wrong. Hard to do when you’re drunk.

You: wheb areu coming back

There’s a long pause before you see the dots appear.

Jennie: Why did Joon let u keep your phone if he knew u were gonna get shitfaced again You: bicyh hes not my boss Jennie: I’m back next week... Kinda flattered u miss me this much but please let me sleep Jennie: Unless you need something??? Are u safe????

You glance at the time in the upper corner of your phone. 2:13am. Welp. Now’s definitely not the time to ask for a favor. Better play up the drunk card as long as your texting abilities are still shitty.

You: 😭NO I MISS OU IS ALL You: im sorry imok You: dgnight beb Jennie: GO TO BED DRUNKIE

You close the app and sigh. A thought sparks in the back of your mind and you mentally slap yourself for not thinking about it until now.

“Hello?” you call out, realizing there’s bound to be other girls in here. There’s no way a women’s bathroom is entirely empty for this long. “Is anyone there? I’m in the first stall... I need some help.”

Silence. How is this bathroom empty but the one downstairs is packed?

Then it occurs to you that anyone coming up the stairs would have to pass by gatekeeper Yoongi and the duo-heel guardians. Anyone with any common sense would go right back downstairs, pretending they didn’t see anything --or they’d be too preoccupied coming up here to do some nasty shit exactly like what Yoongi was. Your common sense had dried up with your last brain cell two drinks ago and you definitely weren’t waiting for a horny couple to barge in and be forced to listen to them bang while you were stuck like this. So unless you wanted to call loud enough to bring the menage trois to you, you were most likely shit outta luck.

Your fingers tap the screen again just as a new message from Namjoon appears.

Joonie: So you fuckin him in the bathroom or…? You: pls come get me Joonie: What do you mean come get you? Joonie: Where you at? You: bathroom Joonie: Are you fucking serious right now You: im surck Joonie: Excuse me? You: I,M FUCKING STUCK Joonie: Please tell me you’re not STUCK on his dick after throwing up and crying You: KIM NAMJOON COME FCUKING HEKLP ME >:(!!!!!

Seconds pass before your phone rings. You fumble with the buttons, tears stinging your eyes. Everything is frustrating and hard. Why are you such a mess?

“Geeksquad, which bathroom are you in: first or second floor?” The music is muffled and you’re glad to be able to hear Namjoon’s deep voice on the other end.

“S-second. Don’t worry there’s no one in here,” you choke out, defeated tone causing him to hamper the cheeky comment on the tip of his tongue.

“Hey, are you okay?” His concerned tone makes you feel ashamed and guilty.

The sobs start coming and you spend a fair amount of time weeping against the receiver before delivering the grossest sound that’s a cross between gargling and whimpering. All the words you mean to say get lost on the way to your lips.

“I’m on my way.”

The soft beep of the disconnect is the only thing you can focus on, your eyelids heavy from crying and the need for sleep. You don’t even realize you’re nodding off until you hear the main door creak open.

“Yo Geek Squad you in here?”

“First stall,” you call out, hardly recognizing your own voice with how small it sounds. You reach to unlatch the stall with a grunt, straining as best you can to reach.

“Do I even wanna know what’s going on over there?” he asks, the shuffle of his sneakers indicating he’s moving closer.

“I’m trying to get the door,” you sneer, feeling the latch finally unhook. “Got it. Dick.”

He pushes the door in a bit and you shift, trying in vain to avoid getting hit as it swings towards you.

He sighs, rubbing his face as he steps in. “What the hell did you do?”

“Please don’t. I really don’t need your smart ass comments. I can’t get it open… Please, Joon.”

The crushed tone your voice takes on causes him to soften his own. “Aight let me see.”

He crouches down beside you, joining you in the cramped space to inspect the tangled mess caught in the metal, briefly stealing a few glimpses at your tear-stricken face. You flinch as he brings his hands across your head, one above and one below, feeling around the apparatus beside you.

“You could have warned me about Yoongi,” he mumbles, carefully combing a few strands of hair out of view with slender fingers.

You feel the heat in your cheeks flare as you remember the show you had gotten on your way up the stairs. You offer a sheepish grin. “Oh, is he still out there? He uh… was a little busy last I checked.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “I can see why you didn’t just text him to come help instead. Imagine those sticky, pruney fingers all up in here. Bet you’d love that.”

You wince as he tussles your hair and skims his fingers along your chin. “You’re supposed to be helping me, not making it worse,” you say, trying to separate the tangled mess he’s made from yours.

He brushes what he can from your face with an amused smirk. “Sorry. Let’s see here…”

He leans back in, arm cradled around your back to resume the task of freeing you. You can’t help but breathe in his scent as his face hovers so closely next to yours. He was never big on cologne, so you’re surprised he doesn’t smell terrible, despite the moisture glistening on his skin.

You hate to admit it, but you actually like his aroma; it’s a natural light scent that reminds you of a forest mixed with a bit of sweat. Then again, you remind yourself that could just be the deodorant fighting off his stench. Either way your nose is weirdly into it, and the more you breathe in, the more agitated you become with your body’s overwhelmingly positive reaction to his pheromones. What the fuck has tonight’s rollercoaster of teasing done to you?

This is why you needed to get laid. You’re wound so tight that even Namjoon is setting off your sexytime radar; you’re just about ready to grab that man by the collar and lap up every inch of his sweaty body. You scold yourself for being so fucking gross. But damn if he doesn’t smell like heaven to your senses right now. Maybe it’s the toilet bowl to your left that’s making him look so good. You smile at the thought, a fine attempt at putting your hormones at ease. However, you find it does nothing to quell the butterflies swirling in your stomach and chest.

You try to pinpoint what it is exactly that’s making you crazy enough to consider throwing yourself at him --especially when you’re this much of a mess. You note the heat radiating from his face as he focuses on the task of freeing you. His profile is soft, gaze concentrated on the task at hand, large pillowy lips slightly parted. Every gentle contact of his fingers against your scalp has you craving to lean into his touch and your fail to realize you’re subconsciously drifting towards him until the snag in your hair tugs you back to reality. You curse loudly, praying he didn’t notice what you were doing.

“Stop moving,” he chides, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “You’re such a hot mess. How did you even do this?”

“I’m a hot mess,” you parrot back, thankful he missed your drunken attempt at kissing. “Isn’t there a release bar?”

“I’m looking for it, but there’s a big ass head in the way.” He sticks his tongue out at you briefly before rising up a bit to get a better view. “You’d think there’d be more sense in here with how much space there is.”

“Har, har, har.” You roll your eyes and look away, trying to focus on anything but how good he smells as his firm chest presses against your cheek. Your arm instinctively comes up to steady his back as he wobbles forward for a second, muttering a quick apology. Clearly you weren’t the only one drinking heavily tonight. You both fall silent as he fiddles with the metal, leaving you to quietly bask in his scent.

Before long, the metal springs open and you breathe a sigh of relief as you yank your head forward. The sudden force causes him to fall back onto his ass, elbows hitting against the tile.

“Thanks Joonie.” You rub your head, feeling for any bald spots before tying your hair back up to avoid any more mishaps.

“Yeah, no problem,” he mutters as he sits up, crossing his arms and rubbing circles around his sore elbows. Timid eyes drop to your face, searching for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. He had seen how much you enjoyed yourself; there was no need to ask. And yet... His eyes dart away.

“What?” You swallow hard.

“So...” he begins softly, finding the resolve to meet your gaze. He raises his eyebrows, doing his best to feign confidence. “How was it?”

“How was….?” Your eyes widen in realization and your voice raises a few octaves. “What, the kissing?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “No, the handjob in the back room.”

“I didn’t--!” You catch the sarcasm a bit late and puff your cheeks out before deflating. “It… was good but…” You’re scanning his face apologetically. “...not worth ruining a friendship over.”

Your suck your lip through your teeth and hold your breath. You bow deeply, letting your forehead to meet the cold tile. “Please forgive me, Joonie…”

His stare is blank as he’s trying to process what you’re doing. “Ah….! Pfft.” He raises a hand to his mouth, covering his laughter before scrambling over to you. “Don’t apologize. I already told you if it’s what you wanna do I’m cool with it. ”

Liar; the word echoes in his mind over and over.

“So is he,” he continues, wedging his fingers between your face and the floor. He cups your cheeks and forces you to look at him, his face twisting into a doleful smile at the sight of the tears welling up in your eyes. God, he was so soft when it came to you. You made him stupid. You made him a liar. You turned him into instant putty, absolutely malleable and vulnerable in your hands. He wanted to tell you anything --do anything-- to make it alright. “Don’t apologize, Y/N. It’s okay. You guys play so much chicken, it was a matter of time, really.”

“But I made things weird!” you sob, letting your heavy head rest entirely on his grip.

“No you didn’t,” he insists, rocking you gently back and forth. “You’re fine. Jimin is a really cool guy. The only one who thinks it’s weird is you. And honestly? The slut you know is better than the one you don’t, AKA nasty Tinder boys.”

The statement makes your lips curl into a tired smile, the motion causing tears to drop from your eyes. Namjoon whisks them away with his thumbs. He wants to stop there, knowing it’s enough to have pulled a smile from you, but he can’t. “Yeah, my friendship with Jimin is important and yeah I never want that to be in jeopardy. But my friendship with you is just as important. We’re all adults and we can handle what hardships come our way together. I know it. So please don’t ask me to stop you or make you feel bad about pursuing anything with him, or with anyone in the group. Honestly, I just want to see you happy and I will be there for you no matter what. We’re all friends so just follow your heart and I’ll be there, wherever it leads you. Okay?”

Your heart swells with admiration. How could he go from being the shithead Namjoon --the one who teases you and eats whole cherry stems--- to the sweet, compassionate, understanding Namjoon before you? Despite being drunk you know that regardless of what he says, you don’t think you could handle causing any sort of rift in the group. It’s one thing to insinuate mindless flirting, kissing, or sex --something you had never been good with anyway. But it was a whole new dynamic when you introduced meaningful feelings that could rock the boat. Sure it could go very well and enhance your lives, but it could also go very, very poorly and affect more than just two people at the end of the day. Even hammered you knew that much.

“No relationships in the group,” you maintain, shaking your head weakly in his palms.

A heavy sigh crosses his lips. He doesn’t know whether it’s relief or disappointment flooding his lungs; maybe it’s both. “Whatever you say.”

“I just don’t want to make things more difficult for you,” you admit, tiredly rubbing the remaining wetness from your eyes. “For anyone.”

He drops his hands and sits back on his knees. If only you knew. You didn’t have to try so hard to skirt the difficult part; it was unavoidable. He struggled any time he was alone with you. It was so hard being so close without ever really having you. Not in the way he longed for. He had come to terms with that fact that eventually you were going to fall for someone else. He accepted that life would never be easy as long as he carried these affections, but it was better than not having you in his life at all.

You’d find someone and he’d find someone of his own to numb the ache, maybe many ‘someones,’ and eventually it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Eventually these feelings would pass. How different is it in the grand scheme of things to lose you to a friend than to lose you to a stranger?

Regardless, you’re still not snuggling up to him at the end of the day. You’re not reaching for his hand when you’re feeling anxious or sad. You’re not searching for his lips when you seek intimacy. You’re not waking up in his arms, in his bed with your stupid tangled hair and raspy morning voice. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

No matter whom you seek, it doesn’t stop Namjoon from waking up to thoughts of you, thoughts that sometimes make his heart race, fingers that itch to hold yours, legs that twist around pillows for comfort. Sometimes they make his stomach dance, indulging in the concept that you might feel the same. Sometimes they wake him with a throbbing cock, making his lungs burn with need, mind racing with shameful desires that he would never dare admit. Every last bit of him was aching to have you, but could he ever express it? Out loud? To your face?

The fact of the matter is that you make his life impossibly difficult no matter what. As much as he hated to admit it to his friends, he couldn’t hide from himself. How could he ever possibly explain that to you without making a complete fool of himself? There aren’t words he can piece together; nothing feels good enough, and maybe nothing ever will.

“You’re always making things so complicated,” he sighs, rising to his feet. “You’ll be back to playing chicken again in no time.”

You cross your arms and pout, knowing he’s probably right. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Aight well I’ve had enough for one night. I’m going home. You wanna catch a lyft with me or you just gonna ride Jimin’s dick home?” Teasing you is the only coping mechanism he has right now. He swears he’ll be fine the more he jokes, the more he reiterates the notion that you’re going to hook up with someone who cares for you as much as he does.

He begins to saunter away, hands in his pockets. He’s got a hand gripped on the handle when he looks back at you still sitting on the floor and giving him a heavy-lidded pout. He throws his head back and releases a heavy puff of air, scoffing at you. “What?”

“I don’t feel good,” you whine, voice small and deflated.

“I told you not to drink so much. I told you to drink water. But do you listen to me? Noooooo. What does Namjoon know? I told you to slow down and you just had to keep up with Jimin. Jimin... who literally guzzles bottles of champagne like water,” he chides, though there’s no bite to the words. He can’t fight a certain tenderness spilling out in his tone; he’s far too tired. “You know you don’t have a good tolerance. You know you’re a lightweight and yet--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. You told me so. I’m drunk. Blah, blah, blah. Are you done lecturing me? Can you help me up now?” You stretch your arms up, grabbing at the air with your hands, to which he rolls his eyes.

“I should leave you here,” he grumbles, even though he’s already on his way over to you. “Maybe you’d learn your lesson this time.”

“Joonie, please,” you groan back, voice cracking with fatigue. You sound pathetic, even to your own ears.

There he is again. Putty boy. Soft. Squishy. Stupidly wrapped around your fingers. Best of all, he will thank you for squeezing the shit out of him until he breaks apart and still comes back for more. Why can’t he make you deal with your own problems for once? After all, you did this to yourself. God, he hated himself for wanting to take care of you, but in some fucked up way he loved that it made him feel like you wanted him, like you needed him for something.

“I gotcha,” he murmurs, hooking his arms underneath your armpits and helping you clumsily to your feet.

You stumble towards him, letting him support a good amount of your weight as you try to keep the world from spinning around you. For a second you’re just leaning into one another, arms slung across each other in what would be a rather tender embrace under different circumstances. You blink a few times, legs wobbling as you tilt your head up to meet his eyes.

A particularly long strand of hair falls across his face as he attempts to help steady you, glasses tipping down to the edge of his nose. Your hand moves unconsciously to correct the frames, pushing them back up for him. You comb back his unruly hair by carding your fingers through it slowly. He can’t help but close his eyes, trying to commit your touch to memory. You drift your fingers across the back of his head, grazing his ear before resting the heel of your palm along his jaw. Your index finger extends, toying with the longer strands that had been styled back for most of the evening.

“You really need to cut this,” you mumble, your words slurring together.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums. It’s all he can manage as he tries to keep himself from completely melting into your touch. He bites the inside of his cheek, absorbing the desire for more contact with you.

You blink a few times, expecting a rebuttal but receiving nothing. You playfully smack his cheek a few times. “You must be tired if you ain’t even arguing.”

“I’m exhausted,” he admits, letting go of the breath he had unwittingly been holding. “Think you can handle the stairs?”

“If I say no, will you carry me?” you ask, only half joking.

He snorts. “I’d have to get Jungkook to help me and you know he’d be pissed to lose to Tae.”

You reach for the door, one arm draped around him for support. You can feel his fingers grip your waist, setting your nerves on fire. You do your best to ignore them. “Still going at it? What’s the score?”

“4 to 3 last I checked; Tae’s winning anyway.”

You snickered, knowing how competitive Jungkook was and how badly he must be trying to even the score. You kind of wish you could stick around and see how it ends.

As you’re rounding the corner, you both fall silent. Your legs are stone once more and you feel Namjoon stop as well, registering what lays ahead. Black-heels is nowhere to be found, but red-heels is on her knees, head bobbing over Yoongi’s lap. He sits with his head thrown back against the couch, eyes closed in complete bliss and you’re thankful that he can’t pin you down this time with that dark scowl.

Namjoon spares an awkward glance in your direction, but you’re enthralled once again, your teeth clamping around your bottom lip to try and sate your hunger for the scene before you. He clears his throat loud enough for only you to hear. Your bugged-out eyes snap to him, realizing he has the most arrogant grin you’ve seen from him tonight, and it causes shame to burn through your lungs. In an instant your lip releases, slightly swollen and red from the pressure.

“Come on, creeper,” he teases into your ear, practically dragging you as quickly as he can past the duo.

Yoongi peeks out from underneath one eyelid, watching your descent with Namjoon with a satisfied grin.

_____________________________________

The car was already waiting when you finally emerged from the club with Namjoon. It felt like an eternity as he pulled you through the sweaty dancers; honestly the fact that you didn’t have the best coordination right now didn’t help matters. You had apologized to Jimin on the way, claiming you didn’t feel well and needed to go home. He seemed understanding enough and you were anxious that he might hate you for leaving him after getting him all riled up earlier.

Of course you didn’t know Namjoon had already talked to him, requesting a take-back on the endorsement he’d given earlier that night. The boys had their own off-limits agreement regarding you, mostly because there was a general consensus that Namjoon was hopelessly smitten, regardless of his frequent denial. But after seeing your profile and how unsuccessful you were, of course he wanted you to have something good in your life, someone who made you feel wanted and was actually good at sex. Jimin and Hoseok didn’t hesitate to agree, both volunteering for the job --much to his chagrin. He convinced himself, at least for a little while, that it would be for the best if you were with someone he knew was safe.

But after seeing you with Jimin, getting hot and heavy out in the open, he knew it was a mistake to say he was fine with it. It hurt so much to think about, nevermind actually seeing it unfold. Thankfully they had the type of friendship where all he had to do was ask and they backed off, but not before Hobi gave him an ultimatum, which Jimin fully supported after getting blueballed for the umpteenth time. They had seen him flip-flop too much on this to keep doing nothing about it; it was time for some action. They would all help you with your profile and make you as successful as possible on Tinder. You’d go on dates with strangers, possibly even go home with someone; Joon could either nut up or shut up before that happened. And if it didn’t?

You close your eyes, resting your head on Namjoon’s shoulder, causing him to stiffen. “Wake me up when we get there?”

If she’s still single after a month, you have to tell her. Or I will. Hoseok’s words echo in his head as he sits with his hands on his knees, reliving the conversation like a movie reel on repeat. You slip your fingers over his, searching for comfort. He flips his hand around to lace his fingers with yours, sighing softly. “Mmm-hmm.”

Why couldn’t he just come out and say it? Why did it scare the hell out of him so much? Is it that it’s awkward and uncomfortable to talk about? Is it because he’s built you up so much in his head, he’s worried you won’t measure up to his fantasies? Or is it because he feels he won’t measure up to your needs and expectations?

He gives your hand a light squeeze and is surprised when you return the gesture with a squeeze of your own.

Is it because he’s afraid you won’t reciprocate? Or is it because he’s not sure what will happen if you do?

______________________________

The lights flicker for a good ten seconds before remaining on. He sighs again, closing the door and locking it. You couldn’t even get out of the car on your own; three flights of stairs would be impossible in your current state. Besides, he had grabbed your keys from Tae’s couch. Didn’t he say he wasn’t babysitting you this time? Yet here he was in your apartment, dead tired and panting from practically carrying your sloppy ass up the steps. It wouldn’t be the first time he crashed on your small, uncomfortable loveseat. His neck was aching just looking at the thing. He was pretty sure you grabbed it off the side of the road, even though you always insisted you got it for a great price at a discount furniture store. He could always wait until Hobi or Yoongi came home. It also wouldn’t be the first time he’d crashed on their couch down the hall instead.

You feel along the walls as you make your way to the bathroom, vaguely hearing Namjoon ask if you need help. You mumble a quick “no” before shutting the door and peeling the sticky jeans from your legs.

“Where are your night clothes?” he calls through the door.

“Night clothes? What are you, a 17th century peasant? They’re fucking pajamas,” you wait for a smartass response, but it doesn’t come. “In the drawer by the bed.”

“Very helpful,” he grumbles sarcastically while surveying the room.

There are multiple drawers. Of course there are. Choosing a drawer a random yields the surprise of a long, pink, bulbous shape carelessly discarded above several pairs of frilly lingerie. He steals a glance at the closed bathroom door before focusing back on the item. His lips purse into a thin line and his fingers trace along the smooth, velvety surface. He turns it over in his hands, taking a second to measure it against his palm. He smiles wickedly, admiring the way his fingers extend past the edge; it’s such a little thing. Could it really feel that good for you?

His body grows ever more attentive to its contour as he tries to imagine what kind of expression paints your face as it plunges into you. Are you the type to ball your fists up in the sheets and let the sweet notes of your pleasure carry through the walls, or are you quiet, deliciously panting and groaning against pillows to muffle the sounds that escape while you’re coming undone?

His long fingers curl around the shape, noting the flexibility and ridges detailed into the silicone. He exhales a shaky breath, trying to subvert the erection currently tenting his pants. Suddenly there’s a light streaming out the bottom and a steady buzz reverberating off his hand. His eyes widen in panic as he shifts his attention from the vibrator to the bathroom door, praying you can’t hear it over the fan in there. He frantically tries to find the power button, but to no avail. He squeezes and pulls, twists and turns, trying every motion he can think of like it’s a goddamn “bop-it.” After a few seconds it whirs down, light on the bottom extinguishing itself.

Oh, thank god.

He tosses it back in the drawer, closing it as quickly as possible. Shuffling through your other drawers, he picks some clothes out at random before knocking on the door.

“You okay in there, Geeksquad?” he asks, leaning against the wall and listening for a response over the sound of the vent above his head.

You swing the door open and his eyes widen, sweeping over your exposed thighs. He anxiously thrusts the clothes into your arms and turns heel. “Can you please not be walking around in your underwear while I’m still here?”

You scoff, closing the door before tossing your panties on top of the pants. “I don’t know why you’re so mad. I only took off my jeans. Do you know what it’s like trying to squeeze back into wet jeans? Not fun. Sweaty. Gross. Too tight.”

“Sounds horrible,” he remarks, voice distant.

You’re glad he brought you shorts that are made from loose, breathable fabric. It’s too damn hot for anything more. You work to free your tits and quickly slip on the roomy t-shirt he selected, eager lay down so the world won’t spin anymore. You emerge from the restroom again, this time looking like an amorphous blob with legs and arms.

Namjoon extends a glass of water toward you. “Drink.” He quirks an eyebrow at the discarded clothes scattered behind you, but doesn’t care enough to comment beyond the assertive order.

You’re irritated by his demand, a scowl on your face as you bring the glass to your lips. You want me to drink? Fine, bitch. I’ll drink. You guzzle the entire thing for him in one go.

“Happy?” You blink a few times and give him a sour smile.

“Don’t be a brat when I’m taking care of you. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Are you sure? Will I? Will I really?”

“You’d better thank me after I went into the ladies bathroom,” he snorts, “and saved you from the toilet paper trap.” He ruffles your hair and takes the glass, disappearing from view. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

“If you tell anybody about that I swear to god our friendship is over.” You shuffle your way towards the bedroom, using the wall as your guide. You practically fall onto the mattress, immediately curling your knees into your chest. You’re nowhere near the comfort of your pillows, but all you care about is getting the room to stop moving. If you can just lay still, you know you’ll be fine in a few minutes. Why does it feel like everything is still going? You’re down, aren’t you? You can’t even lift your head to make sure. It’s too much.

“God, you’re so drunk.” Namjoon sets down a full glass of water on your nightstand. “Remember when I said you got a big head you don’t use? This is exactly what I mean. You make yourself sick when you do this. You’re never gonna learn, huh?”

“Joon…” You weakly open your eyes, offering a pout. “It’s not nice to lecture someone who doesn’t feel good.”

“It’s not nice making other people take care of you when you make yourself sick, but you seem to be fine with that,” he shoots back, followed by a heavy sigh. “Is it fun being this fucked up? Why do you do this?”

“It makes me feel less empty,” you mumble, rolling your head towards the soft blankets. “If I’m drunk and having fun, then I can’t focus on how lonely I am.”

“Y/N… Do you really feel that way?” He sits on the edge of the bed, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

You shiver at the contact with your skin and you can feel goosebumps already forming along your arms. “Yes,” you reply, your voice small and apologetic for the way you’re starting to tear up. How pathetic you must seem to him, falling apart like this over your nothingness.

He gently moves his palm across your shoulder a couple times before giving it a light squeeze. He wants to tell you that you’re not alone, that he’s always going to be here for you, but the words catch in his throat and he can’t muster enough force to get them out.

“Pfft listen to me being sad. That’s not like me, is it?” You peek back up at him through watery lids, cracking your best smile while trying not to let him see you cry. His knotted brow and pressed lips tell you he’s not buying it. “Don’t look at me like that, Joon. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. Hey, I didn’t throw up this time so I must not be THAT fucked up.”

He hums softly, amused by your last statement. “That’s true, Y/N…” He pauses to lightly rub his hands across your shoulders; it soothes you and he knows it. While it isn’t his first time taking care of you, his touch is still delicate and reserved. His fingers feel uncertain as they connect with your form, gingerly kneading the skin through your shirt with his thumbs. You find yourself melting beneath the contact of his thumbs, exhaling a breathy moan that makes him tense ever so slightly.

“Everyone gets lonely. You gotta find the coping mechanisms that work for you. Healthy ones. Alcohol ain’t a good one. That’s why I worry about you.”

You manage to roll onto your back, looking up at him from what you’re sure is your most unflattering angle ever. “You worry about me?”

He floats a hand over your face, brushing the hair from your forehead. “A lot, actually.”

You can’t help but lean into his touch, eyelids fluttering closed for longer than you like with the question burning on your lips. “Why?”

“Because,” he begins with a heavy sigh, “you’re dumb smart, except when you’re not.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you lay there blinking at him, waiting for him to stop with his deep-talk and get to the point. He must notice because he rolls his eyes. “I mean, you take apart computers all day right?”

“Mmm, sometimes at night too, but yeah.” He looks like he’s about to say something when you start back up. “Sometimes I build them and sometimes I’m just repairing them.” You hesitate a moment, thinking about it. He opens his mouth when you mindlessly interrupt again. “Sometimes I’m just sifting through parts of our recovery programs, honestly.”

“...Can I finish with my point or you wanna keep going with that?” he teases, raising his eyebrows at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

You blush, wishing you could turn off the ramble function in your brain.

“You fix things, you wire complex shit all day. If you don’t know how to do something, you figure it out. You’re smart. But when it comes to people, you’re dumb,” he stops to correct himself. “Dumb isn’t the right word. You’re just... I don’t know the word I’m looking for. Desperate? No, sorry. Not it. Naive? Eh, I don’t think that’s the word either.”

“If this is supposed to be a pep talk, I’m not feeling it.”

He ignores you, continuing his train of thought, “You’re so open. You may not notice it, but you have this glow, this... energy around you. You smile and the room smiles back. There are people out there who will try to take advantage of someone like you, who will use up all your kindness and love and try to turn you into this dark little raincloud.”

“Am I a sun in this metaphor? You’re losing me here.”

“Nah not a sun. Well, maybe a sunset. More like… a rainbow I guess. You make people feel good, so good they stop and think, wow I love... looking at you, being around you.” He catches himself, knowing it’s time to crash. He’s spouting nonsense that’s too close for comfort. “You just need to be more careful. I won’t always be around to babysit your ass.”

Your eyelids flutter in displeasure. “So you’ve said. Where is this font of knowledge stemming from anyway? Where are these people who love looking at me? I wanna meet them.”

“You’re too drunk for metaphors, got it. Come on, let’s get you on the pillows at least. One, two, three,” he takes a deep breath on the third count and drags you towards the soft, fluffy pillows at the head of the bed. “There we go.”

You offer a soft groan, annoyed by the quick movement. “Joonie…”

But he ignores the sounds of your discontent, rolling you onto your side so he can pull the blankets down, but they catch underneath your body. You raise your leg to try and help, but the fabric to your shorts rides up, exposing the flesh where your thighs meet your ass. It’s then Namjoon realizes just how skimpy and thin the shorts are, eyes frantically searching for the missing layer beneath them.

Realizing the trap he’s about to fall into, he averts his gaze and quickly pivots you back towards him to further work the blankets down. You grunt disapprovingly at the rocking motion and rub your temple, unaware of how he’s clumsily grasping at the sheet to cover you as quickly as possible.

“No it’s too hot,” you complain, hooking your leg and trapping it between your thighs.

Namjoon swallows hard as his eyes settle on your bare asscheek. “You’re going to get cold.”

You disregard his comment and nuzzle your face deep into the pillow, trying to get comfortable.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Whatever. I need to get some sleep. So if you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna go crash on the couch.” He gestures toward the door and waits a moment for you to respond. When you don’t, he begins to walk away.

“Wait,” you call in a small voice, peeking at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Your arms outstretch, beckoning him to come back.

He turns back towards you, lifting his glasses to briefly rub his eyes. “Yeah?”

“When you said everyone gets lonely, do you...” your words falter, not knowing if it’s the alcohol, your hormones, or the loneliness that’s been haunting you, but you have to ask. “Do you feel lonely?”

The hum catches in his throat and he smiles softly, resting his tall frame against the doorway. He’s quiet for a moment, carefully contemplating his answer. “Sometimes. I try to let my friends know so that I don’t get lost in it. It helps.” You get the feeling he’s trying to offer advice and you open your mouth to refute the point, but close it when he continues. “But sometimes, it’s not as simple as having someone to talk to. Sometimes… I just want to find someone to be close to. To hold. To touch. And no amount of talking satisfies that feeling.”

His eyes trail off with his words and you can’t help but ache at the vacuum they leave behind. He gets it. Of course he does; he’s only human. How does he combat that loneliness?

“What do you do when you feel like that?” you ask, melancholy expression mirroring his.

He crosses his arms and thinks a moment. “I try to think about things that make me happy. I try to think about things that I’m grateful for. My job. My apartment. My friends.” He pauses and spares a glance at you, finding your blown out pupils scanning his face. He attributes it to the dim light, though for a second he almost swears there’s a hint of something dark and hungry hiding just beneath the surface and it makes sweat bead along the back of his neck. “...I… think about all that and try to reflect on the good, rather than the bad feelings.”

“Do you ever try to find company instead?” You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes as you twine your fingers between the sheets and tap them against one another. You’re considering the option through beer goggles, thinking about how his hands steadied you at the bar and the surge of electricity it sent through your spine. He’s always been super chill. Would it really be so bad to ask him to climb into bed beside you? Slowly, you move your other leg outside of the sheet, letting the fabric twist around to cover your torso. Your face is absolutely burning as you watch him take the bait.

“Sometimes,” he admits, face growing hot as his eyes crawl across the expanse of your thighs. You can’t help but relish in the shaky exhale he tries in vain to hide.

You stretch your arms across the bed and awkwardly tap at the mattress with your fingertips, lifting your head. “What about right now?”

His gaze locks onto yours, unblinking. His mouth falls open, in heavy need of clarification. “Huh?”

Before he can ask you to repeat it, the next question falls through your lips. “Do you feel lonely now?”

He blinks a few times, unsure if he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing. You find yourself growing agitated and increasingly embarrassed at the need to spell it out for him; the fact that you’re even considering this is downright insane, but your body is so touch starved that you have to say it. The hormones racing through you demand some kind of resolve for all the heavy grinding, Jimin’s lips all over your skin, Hobi’s hips at your back, Namjoon’s fingers swirling circles into your shoulders. Would it really be so bad? Is he going to judge you for insinuating such a thing? Is he going to get weird about it? Maybe it’s not such a great idea. Racing thoughts have you internally backpedaling while he draws out his response.

“I might be,” he answers quietly, taking a few slow paces towards the bed. You’ve got hope that Namjoon is also willing to entertain the idea but you have to confirm it.

You can barely hear yourself over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. “Maybe we could be lonely together?” You lick your dry lips and swallow hard, tapping the mattress with your fingers again. You see the pity in his face as he gets closer and suddenly you feel like a moron. Your head drops back against the pillow. “Ah, shit. Ne-Nevermind!”

But he continues to walk over to your bedside and chuckles softly. Soft fingertips brush along your forehead and whisk stray hairs from your forehead. His face floats into your field of vision, the sad smile making you want to crawl under the covers. Pathetic as you are, you lean into his palm as he rests it against your cheek.

“I’m not going to take advantage of the fact that you’re drunk and horny,” he says in a low, soft voice. “You really think I’m about to tap that and have you wake up with a million regrets in the morning?”

Your face twists into a scowl, and then an embarrassed pout. “I’m not saying we bang. I mean, even if I were insinuating that --which I’m not, you don’t have to act like it’d be so gross to fuck me. Sheesh.”

He holds back a laugh as your hands clumsily grip and fiddle with his fingers, pulling them away from your face. Boy, you took that terribly. Did it really bruise your ego so much because he turned you down? “Look, I never said it would be gross. I just mean that you’re not in any position to consent. I’m not about that life.”

He bites his lip, unable to explain further that if you asked on a sober day, he’d take you in a heartbeat. But he knows that will never happen and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up with drunk promises you don’t mean or will never remember.

On some level you know he’s right, but the sting of rejection doesn’t make it easy to accept. So you squash the one shred of pride you have left. “Could you… Do you think you could just hold me? Would that be okay?”

If his heart could pound out of his chest, it certainly felt like now was the time it would happen. He swallows, throat dry as he gives your fingers a small squeeze. “I can do that.”

You flick the light off as he scoots next to you, resting his back against the pillows. He’s incredibly rigid, awkwardly extending an arm over your head and waiting for you to settle in. You can’t help the uncertainty bubbling in your stomach. You slowly rest your head across the expanse of his chest and you can feel him expel the breath he had been holding. Goddamn it Joon. Stop being weird.

“You’re stiff,” you murmur, nuzzling your head into the fabric of his shirt, trying in vain to get comfortable at a ninety degree angle. “Can you like… lay down instead?”

He sighs and repositions, wiggling down beside you. His massive hand cups your head close to his chest as he does so. His head falls against the pillow and he nudges the side of your face with his knuckles. “Better?”

Your face angles upwards and you can just barely make out the mocking flick of his tongue in the moonlight that slips through the blinds. You bury your face, humming a note of approval over his collarbone. You’re quick to splay an arm across his torso and uncurl your fingers against his chest. Heavy fingers climb on yours, trapping your hand between his and the heartbeat beneath your palm. His other hand lands on your shoulder and you shiver when he starts to trace lazy lines up and down your skin.

You don’t have time to fully appreciate the motion as sleep threatens to take you. The last thing you feel is his chin falling against the top of your head, both of you subconsciously snuggling closer. Never in your life have you felt so relaxed, so fast. You forget whom is resting beside you, holding you in a way that keeps you from drunkenly crying yourself to sleep. The world falls away. The thoughts of the night fall away. The emptiness is replaced by something good. Something tender. It’s a strange and foreign concept, and you can’t quite put your finger on it, but what you do know is that it’s the closest thing you’ve ever felt to a place you’ve never truly had: Home.

[realmzenith]

benke !!!!!!

u truly want me dead but ily so- BUT OK BENKE my meme child

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?.2 seconds i hate him. if he HAD to sit still and he was feeling slightly more chill than usual he could prbly go five minutes. tops. he’s just rlly antsy. he needs to be doing smth w his hands

How easy is it for your character to laugh?EH not super easily but defo more easily than a lot of my other ocs from one to ten one being laughs extremely easily he’s prbly a 4. the key is to find him memes esp political nihilistic memes or fall in front of him bc he’s terrible

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)he doesn’t sleep. e v e r. who do u think he is?? nah jk on a more serious note, he actually doesn’t sleep very easily so usually he just listens to music until he dozes off

How easy is it to earn their trust?gosh that’s. difficult to say. p hard actually?? surprisingly hard for how much of a meme he acts like and how relatively extroverted he is. from one to ten w one meaning it’s very easy to gain his trust i’d say 7

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?he doesn’t rlly attach himself to ppl easily so it’s p easy to get him to not trust u. like he’ll be chill w u but he wont trust u all that much it’s a weird dynamic w him. w one being v easy to get him to distrust and ten very hard, he’s a 5. p much in the middle not rlly too much to one side or another

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?rules are great until they impede him from getting what he’s aimin for :) on a more serious note, he doesn’t rlly give a damn abt most laws like he doesn’t want to go to jail but at the same time if he’s not going to get caught he’s going to do it bc hey wtf yolo

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?LOL NOSTALGia thats a joke he dislikes sappy things n nostalgia falls into that category but he will on v v rare occasions reminisce. certain musical pieces have that effect on him esp the classical ones as he’s grown up w music (being a practical prodigy on the piano and all). he guesses that sometimes it is kind of nice to remember. just once in a while tho. in a while being the key phrase here

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?I MEAN he’s sixteen he’s still technically a child but basically the most common thing he hears is stop slacking and work harder. being an asian kid getting As is? absolutely crucial he’ll be smacked upside the head by his parents if he doesn’t so they always tell him to stop slacking tf off n actually study for once (tbh it’s fine he’s a genius practically he gets As easier than u can say banana split)

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?absolutely and he doesn’t rlly remember but he thinks it was “shit”

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?once he set out twenty peeps just behind the wheels of his mom’s car and when she backed out the entire wheels got covered in peeps and when she came home saying there was all this weird gooey stuff on her wheels and looked pointedly at him. he just blurted out that it was god exacting judgement on her for her sins. it didn’t end well. he ended up washing the entire car by himself. it still haunts him to this day

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?he’ll literally just say “what the fuck” and laugh

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?whine about it until someone scratches it for him dependent on how comfy he is around the ppl he’s with. if he’s not comfy around the ppl he’s w he’ll just sulk internally or scurry off to the bathroom and like, rub his back (presumptively that’s where he can’t reach) against the edge of the stall until the itch is gone bc he’s high

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?he thinks he looks best in all colors also he doesn’t rlly care abt fashion. he looks best in HM like purple or royal blue?? 

What animal do they fear most?he has this weird fear of armadillos and no one knows why it has smth to do w an incident at the zoo when he was six

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?he honestly doesn’t say everything that comes to mind even tho it SOUNDS like he does but he also. basically says everything that comes to mind. it’s odd bc he ends up being rlly engaging in conversation anyways. however he isnt immune to being at a loss for words and when he’s under pressure he will stumble a lil thru what he’s saying. but most of the time what u hear is what he’s thinkin

What makes their stomach turn?ok he’s not SUPER big abt justice or anything like that but if someone’s being torn down he’ll get rlly uncomfy unless he’s the one who initiated it bc he’s like hey hey haha guys dont say that abt them. also he dislikes roly polys w a passion bc they remind him of armadillos :)

Are they easily embarrassed?on one hand he has no shame on the other he does get p flustered if ppl flirt w him and it hits a spot (in a good way)? like he does get embarrassed moderately easily but it takes him a few seconds to realize he should be embarrassed if u get me

What embarrasses them?flirting, if u get a well aimed compliment in that he didn’t expect. also realizing he’s made a fool of himself bc that oftentimes happens but he also rarely realizes it so if he REALIZES he’s made a fool of himself he will get flustered

What is their favorite number?420 duh

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?he’d be like wtf why r u asking me this but if someone he does trust and is close to asked him he’d try his best to give a serious answer after a bout of awkward laughing to make sure they were serious. prbly like “familial love and platonic love are the same thing basically right? i guess platonic love is how u love ur friends so yk brofists and shit and then romantic love is more? special? idk it’s fucking great tho *fingers guns at sev*”

Why do they get up in the morning? his mom makes him get up for school otherwise what is leaving his bed when he can just pull his comp onto his lap while STAYING in his bed and game from there

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? oh he’s very possessive. he’ll defo keep whatever he’s worried abt losing close by to start and if it’s a person- friend or s/o- he’s going to be touching them a lot more. a hand on the back, a hug at the side, running his hands through their hair casually. anything to assert that no back off ur not taking them from me. but if it continues, which it v well may, knowing him, he’s going to start getting snarky n verbally fighting the other person. basically Messy pls reassure him if u are the object of his affections and he’s getting side-eye emoji abt someone 

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? he defo becomes resentful a bit. like he doesn’t get envious over most things- it’s mostly fear of losing the thing once he has it- but when it does he will get resentful and hole up a bit and generally just seem a little ticked

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?yeah he’s comfy talking abt sex. prbly a little too comfy. so basically anyone willing to engage him in the conversation topic will likely hear abt it but he’s calmed down ever since he got involved w sev

What are their thoughts on marriage?marriage is good? but far off and amorphous in his mind. for the most part he’s like there’s nothing wrong w it but it crosses his mind EXTREMELY infrequently   

What is their preferred mode of transportation? preferably in the back of a private plane, squirrel suit gliding or on a giant eagle, none of which he’s ever experienced in his life. but out of the things he has he is fond of sailing when it’s calm out bc he does get seasick a tiny bit. he likes fast cars too

What causes them to feel dread? his mother :) she may be small but she is Frightening

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? he doesnt rlly give a damn so lie most of the time but at the same time if he cares abt the thing and he’s asking u abt it pls do urself a favor and tell him the truth. it’s what he prefers and it’s rare anyways that he actually asks after smth

Do they usually live up to their own ideals? nope. he wants to win a nobel prize, publish a meme compilation book, become a world class pianist, go to pluto- u get the idea. ya boi has many high hopes for himself which he’s not rlly meeting atm. he’s a little all over the place, so despite his many talents he isn’t quite living up to the ideal version of himself he’s seeking after and prbly never will it’ll be very hard to get him to admit this not bc he’s an edgelord or smth but it’s hard to get him to talk abt deeper things but he does sincerely want to be a good moral person which dependent on the day and his level of seriousness he may or may not be living up to in his own eyes as well as in the eyes of others. what can i say he’s kind of a hoe

Who do they most regret meeting? life…. when life’s hand touched upon his little heart and gave him the gift of herself he immediately was filled w Ragret- on a more serious note it’s prbly the armadillo from the zoo

Who are they the most glad to have met? sev? he also adores his piano teacher but good luck getting him to admit that w heartfelt sincerity 

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? it’s honestly whatever’s the most recent thing he observed, heard or experienced when it comes to stories. he has no shortage of words to say and his fav sort of memes and jokes are politically nihilistic ones. so those are? in a way his go to?

Could they be considered lazy? yes. he only applies himself if he’s interested and for most of school he has no qualms abt being a lil sus and casually “accidentally” getting the answers to things so yeah that’s. that could be considered lazy. however, when he does care abt smth he will absolutely dedicate himself to it. he practices piano consistently and diligently day in and day out so it honestly depends on if he cares or not

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? v difficult. he rarely becomes guilty for longer than .4 seconds but when it does he’s srsly going to internalize that bc if he’s feeling guilty he prbly f-ed up real bad. he also won’t rlly talk abt it to anyone so it’s even more likely it’ll just get internalized 

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? that’s extremely dependent on who it is and what it is. if it’s sev he’ll b v supportive but sev is a VERY big exception in most cases also sev rarely gets visibly excited abt things so it’s usually a cause for celebration when he does. if josie (his bff) is excited abt smth? if he can relate he’ll be excited for her but if he can’t he’ll TRY his best but there will be some teasing involved bc that’s how he diffuses confusion. their other bff will get the same treatment but w slightly more effort bc she’s more sensitive but gosh if it’s someone he doesn’t know rlly well he’ll be rlly confused he’ll be like good for u ha?? or someone he knows casually. they’ll get teased so he tries but he also sucks at life. for such a great analyst he’s terrible at being socially delicate

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? tbh prbly actively seek it. he defo pursued sev before they got together

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? he doesn’t rlly give a damn abt ppl’s names but if it’s say a piano piece it’s honestly just cold, hard repetition 

What memory do they revisit the most often? he doesn’t reminisce often hes a p go go go type of guy but if he does it’s prbly abt sev. neither of them voice it often but they’re both rlly grateful for the other

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? see, he’s kind of oblivious he doesn’t rlly think abt these things but when something annoys him? oh it annoys him and he’s going to make no effort to hide it or ignore it. so he’s honestly rlly bad at ignoring other ppl’s flaws. he’s a bit of a b like that 

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?very

How do they feel about children? no particular opinion! he’s the younger sib by quite a bit so he’s always been kind of the baby. he thinks kids are fine and he’s actually p good w them but he’d prefer to not babysit or anything like that. there are better more enjoyable things he could be doing w his time. as for having kids he almost never thinks abt that so he’s got no opinion there either. what happens happens after all

How badly do they want to reach their end goal? he doesn’t particularly have One End Goal but he has many aspirations and if he cares abt smth he will do everything in his power to reach it at least within reason. so p badly relatively speaking? 

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? he’s bi so if someone asked him to explain it he’d be like “it means idc what someone’s gender is when it comes to whether i want to fuck or not ;)” yes i hate him too

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character?MEME KING but also i’m excited to try and work out the balance between apathy, drive and subtle but very much present care for the ppl around himB) What inspired you to create them?i need a best friend for the main chara of the story benke is a part of! additionally, he shares a lot of character traits w an irl friend of mine so it’s a bit of a nod to themC) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?nope! benke was created for the purpose of filling a role tho honestly he’s spun a wild story for himself somehow looking @ u sevD) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?i must admit benke does NOT have a set appearance as of the present. he’s afab nb and does nothing to present as more masculine than he naturally appears. he’s indian, 5′4″ and he’s got short hair w highlights but beyond that i’m still working out his appearance E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?yes on a surface level to both. we’d meme together but at a deeper level we wouldn’t make good close friends. benke’s brand of caring for ppl is nearly opposite to mine and bc we’re already both unconventional in how we show we care abt someone we’d prbly both end up feeling neglected. there’d be a lot of miscommunication and honestly, ya boi would get on my nerves n i’d prbly get on hisF) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?TIRED he TIRES me but also a bit of pride bc he’s growinG) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?where do i begin. prbly how he’s unintentionally self centered. benke is far from uncaring abt his friends he will do crazy stupid brave things for them if it ever came to that but it’s hard for him to see why some of the things he says hurt other ppl’s feelings esp if they’re diff from him. he’ll be like ?? why u offended i didn’t say anything mean. he’s also RLLY bad at handling serious emotions even when they sometimes do need to be dealth wH) What trait do you admire most?HM prbly his knack for being a great conversationalist. ppl like him even if he isn’t the most popular bc he’s funny and p chill. he doesn’t have too much drama so it’s like hey there’s the meme guy even tho he’s kinda weird and tbh goals. being a good conversationalist can get u places and ease up SO many social situationsI) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?PRBLY but also i think he’d do rlly well in a sci fi universe eyes emojiJ) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?nah not rlly?? not yet at least ! 

[cloudbattrolls]

Bleeding Heart

Matcha Ginia [GG] tries to befriend Etuuya Vannyn [TT] , who is naturally skeptical of her intentions after they upset her by revealing their true nature and confused by her gift of blood after their second office interaction. 

a.k.a two vampires dance in circles around each other, trying to figure the other out. 

-- twitteringTailor [TT] has begun trolling gladsomeGluttony [GG] -- 

TT: You know, it's not that I'm not grateful, given that Rivali is intent on giving me army rations.

TT: Which I can deal with, but I admit it's nice not to.

TT: But I was surprised when the first one wasn't poisoned, or something.

TT: Not that it would have killed me.

TT: Made me drowsy, perhaps.

TT: Ought I to worry about where you get this from?

TT: Or what else you usually use it for?

TT: I'm not one to judge dark arcane rituals.

TT: Only a tiny bit.

TT: Don't get me wrong, I doubt you're going to tell me, but I'm back in the cavern now and I finished the sweeping.

TT: so I've nothing to do but be a chatterbug.

GG: :V

TT: [snail emoji]

GG: 

GG: [cat emoji]

GG: i use iiiiit to patch up a friend, usually? 

GG: and i get it from another friend who works in a hostilespital, althooouuugh they havent had access lately 

GG: what was the other question? :V

TT: your friend must get injured an awful lot, but that's more of an answer than I expected so I'll take it.

GG: ;V

TT: I have plenty of other questions, but you didn't really answer those, either.

TT: If you want a bit of information free of charge, though; Rivali let up on keeping me away.

TT: Not that they're not going to lock me up, for the peace of mind of everyone else in the office, but you can visit if you like.

TT: Unless this is where you shout 'psyche' and give up the joke.

TT: I'd applaud your dedication.

GG: 

GG: that would be a huge waste of energy :V

TT: Something suggests you have a much-longer running motive though.

TT: It would be, wouldn't it.

TT: Unless there was a dare or something involved, but I'm not allowed to question that now, so none of my business if there is.

GG: whaaaaat 

GG: youre allowed to question what you want!! 

GG: even if im kiiiiind of hurt that you think im doing this to make fun of you 

GG: i just dont think its fair to starve you, thats all!! 

GG: i know how much it sucks to go hungry >:V

TT: If you get upset again, Rivali blames me.

GG:

TT: Greenlet, why do you think they changed their mind?

GG: out of the kindness of their pusher? :V

TT: I don't think they have any kindness in their pusher, dear. I think they replaced it all with ramrods.

TT: No, it's because they're afraid, but they rather value your agency more than mine.

GG: dont be mean, theyre a really nice person! 

GG: 

GG: to 

GG: other people, i guess 

GG: sorry :'O

TT: It's really not your fault.

TT: I don't say any of this to guilt you.

TT: I may not have a bull's notion why you're doing this, but I don't bear you any ill will.

GG: im 

GG: glad you dont? :V

TT: You sound a tad unsure about that.

GG: i waaasnt really expecting you to in the first place, and now im thinking about it :V

TT: Do you want me to be mad? It would explain what happened last time.

GG: what!! >:V

TT: Self-flagellation is a silly route to go down, greenlet.

TT: There are better ways to work out your guilt.

TT: Though you really shouldn't have any.

GG: 

GG:

TT: If I were someone else, perhaps.

TT: Then it might be appropriate.

TT: But not with me.

GG: woooow, youre kind of a hypocrite

GG: :P

TT: How so?

TT: I'm quite lost here.

GG: noooooo, but im backtracking 

GG: how would wanting you to be mad explain last time? 

GG: what did i do D:

TT: I could just be throwing darts in the dark, but it felt rather like you wandered over because you felt bad and you wanted me to feel bad, and then you did something that clearly required some effort and desire to go behind Rivali's back. Not that Rivali is difficult to fool, but it still involves some risk for no clear reward on your part, and I certainly didn't do anything that merited such a generous act. Therefore I can only assume it was motivated by guilt or you're just daft, but I highly doubt the second one. Daft people generally don't plan so well.

TT: I didn't react angrily, so your guilt wasn't assuaged, and you had to find some other method.

GG: whaaaaaat 

GG: of course i felt guilty over getting you in trouble, but i didnt want you to feel bad! >:V 

GG: it just felt unfair, and i had to do something about it!! 

GG: 

GG: and im glaaaad i dont come off as daft to you? im pretty sure youre the only person who thinks that :'O

TT: Don't be silly, greenlet, of course you did. Perhaps not much, and perhaps you even felt bad about that, but when someone shows you something horrifying with no apparent remorse, it'd be a rare troll who didn't want them to feel guilty about it.

TT: It's not something I blame you for.

TT: Perhaps Rivali is right.

TT: At least from a practical standpoint.

TT: I have to admit, your idea of 'unfair' throws me.

TT: That I can't puzzle out.

TT: You know I'm property, right?

TT: I wasn't kidding about being a science experiment.

TT: The man who started it is long dead, but I still belong to the Empire.

TT: Why do you think Rivali does as they please, even though I'm many times their senior?

TT: If I am the only person who thinks that, then your coworkers are silly.

TT: Or they don't appreciate you.

TT: Whichever.

GG: you showed that to me because you felt cornered and wanted me to back off! 

GG: of course you dont feel bad about it >:V 

GG: 

GG: you dont, right? 

GG: 

GG: and of course i know youre property! i guess its just 

GG: hard to grasp? you have feelings just like the rest of us! and if i was in your place, i would want someone to be nice to me >:V 

GG: and they do appreciate me, dont be mean! you can still like someone if theyre a little ditzy >:V

TT: Who said I don't feel bad about it?

GG: you!!

TT: I said apparent remorse.

GG:

TT: You missed a trick.

TT: Now I'm hardly sobbing my oculars out.

TT: And I stand by my reasoning being sound.

TT: But I don't actually enjoy upsetting people, for the most part.

TT: It was a necessary evil, but look at all the effect it had.

TT: About the same as a grub flinging itself at a windshield.

GG: sorry ;O

TT: If you were, we wouldn't be having this little back-and-forth, but I'm not here to wag my finger at you for it.

GG: youre doing a lot of finger wagging for that! ;P

TT: 'For that' being the operative phrase.

TT: ...I have to admit, it's been a while since someone cited 'feelings' as basis for personhood to me.

TT: Even I'm not buying that one.

TT: Zombies have feelings, and most of them are about as sapient as my shoes.

TT: But more the point, my feelings don't really count legally.

TT: And it's not really my concern if people are nice to me.

GG: 

GG: does it hurt you if im nice to you?? >:V

TT: No, but it could potentially hurt you.

TT: That was my point.

TT: Not about to argue that, though, pointless endeavor.

GG: kiiiiind of!

GG: becauuuse its a liiiiittle condescending to try to make decisions for me like this! >:V

TT: See, Rivali's logic is that you deserve to make your own mistakes.

TT: I guess they agree with you there.

TT: Also, greenlet, if I seem condescending, it's because I can't quite wrap my head around someone wanting to be buddies with me after they know the truth.

TT: I can infer reasonings behind your individual actions, but the whole is still very much a mystery.

TT: I have doubts it's part of some elaborate plot, you wouldn't really have much to gain.

TT: Yet who willingly befriends something like me? You're not daft, so it's not that.

TT: A desire to prove your own goodwill?

TT: I suppose that's a decent reason.

TT: Or just to prove you can, perhaps.

GG: 

GG: 

GG: dooooes it 

GG: matter if im doing this because im selfish? 

GG: youre getting food and someone to talk to out of it!

GG: if you want me to leave you alone, i will

TT: Not really. You're not bad company.

TT: I just don't want you putting more into this than you should.

GG: you should stop worrying my worries for me ;O

TT: Perhaps I have my own, greenlet.

GG: seeeee 

GG: you can worry those instead!

TT: You would find them insulting.

TT: So I would rather approach it from your motivations instead of my suspicions.

GG:

GG: :V ?

TT: I'm not keen to hurt your feelings again, for several reasons.

GG: 

GG: you shouldnt have to worry about that!! >:V 

GG: if this is about rivali, i can blame it on my recent breakup!

TT: gracious.

TT: clever, though, they'll buy that.

GG: 

GG: do you think so? :O

TT: redirection is as good of a strategy as any.

TT: especially for Rivali, who loves silly relationship comedy shows.

GG: pffffffffff 

GG: i knoooow, its adorable

TT: Don't say that to them.

TT: They don't know how to handle compliments.

TT: At least on anything that's not work.

GG: i know ;V

GG: i figured that out the hard way, pffff

TT: I suppose the greater mystery is why you want to defend them.

TT: They're not really very nice.

TT: They're obsessed with excelling at work.

TT: Thus they don't want you upset.

GG: thats your perspective! >:V 

GG: theyre trying their best!!

TT: Do you know why I suddenly turned up, greenlet?

GG: nooooo?

TT: Rivali caught me and used a hired gun to shoot me in the pumper six times.

GG:

TT: It's not even because they hate drinkers, or anything silly like that.

TT: They just saw an opportunity.

GG: an opportunity?

TT: I'm a science experiment they haven't been able to replicate since.

TT: I can say without any false modesty that I'm valuable.

GG: 

GG: thats a smart move, though! 

GG: 

GG: iiiiif 

GG: youre not weird like me and get attached, i guess :V

TT: It would be smart if Rivali wasn't fighting a hopeless battle.

TT: They want their cavern to accept them and promote them.

TT: That's not going to happen.

TT: They might as well have left me for all the good it did them.

GG: oh dear

TT: Why do you think they got transferred to you?

TT: Just having them work aboveground wasn't enough for their head matron, I suppose; they sent them further away.

TT: and like their barkbeast lusus with a bone, they won't let go of trying to get prestige.

GG: 

GG: 

GG: thats reeeaaaally similar to my my story :'V 

GG: thats so sad though

TT: Don't mistake Rivali as being like you, greenlet.

TT: They don't care who they have to use to get ahead.

TT: I mean, perhaps you don't either, but I imagine you'd at least pause.

GG:

TT: It's less sad and more born of bitterness.

GG: thats so sad though

TT: Don't project on them, they're more than old enough to know better.

GG: whaaaat, and im not?

TT: You're what, nine? Ten?

GG: niiiiine :V

GG: 

GG: i dont like where this is going :V

TT: Rivali is fourteen.

TT: Bit of a difference there.

TT: They would be old enough to make a lower-ranked matron by now, if they had their way.

TT: Old enough to know their efforts are pointless, presumably unlike whatever you want to do.

TT: Which is another likely difference between you.

GG: pfffff 

GG: dooo you know why im doing this job?

TT: Not a clue.

TT: I'd be open to learning.

GG: myyyy headmatron threw me out of the cavern, because she hated my guts that much 

 GG: and now im sloooowly working my way up here, but theres a huuuuge chance that im never going to be very good at it! 

 GG: i just dont work fast enough, or even smart enough :'V

TT: Am I really supposed to believe you're not smart enough.

TT: You keep pretending but it's fairly plain you're plenty smart enough.

GG: im people smart, not book smart :'I

TT: Hm.

GG: >:V

TT: and did she? that's rather petty.

GG: a liiiiittle 

GG: she ruled with an iron fist, pffff 

GG: her part of the cavern was the most efficient one

TT: I find that unlikely if she was prone to making decisions based solely on personal dislike.

GG: i miiiiight have 

GG: lost a few important documents?

GG: but pfffffff, i dont want to talk badly about her!!

TT: Who am I going to tell? I don't care.

TT: But I'm hardly going to ask you to rag on her either.

GG: youre doing a pretty bad impression of not caring!

TT: I meant about if you talk badly of her.

GG: pffff, okay! 

GG: but then im preeeeetty sure im wasting my breath and boring you to death right now! 

GG: 

GG: 

GG: that was insensitive, im so sorry :'V

TT: How was that insensitive?

TT: Inaccurate, but not insensitive.

GG: 

GG: yooooure dead, right?

TT: Interesting question.

TT: Given that was happened to me was an intentional operation done in laboratory settings, I'm not really sure if I am.

TT: I never actually was killed.

TT: Even if I was, I would have to be extremely petty and oversensitive to be offended by such a thing, though.

GG: i never knooooow 

GG: i keep trying not to step on peoples walkstubs, and then doing it anyways :'V

TT: I'm prone to bursts of pettiness but usually over things that are more worth my time.

TT: Greenlet, I'm a one hundred and several decades sweep old rainbowdrinker whose existence is an offense to trollkind.

TT: It's a bit difficult to genuinely step on my walkstubs.

GG: you can have feelings if you want! >:V

TT: I have feelings, greenlet, but generally they don't involve being upset over things that don't matter enough to me to be upset over.

TT: If someone hurt my snails, I would be upset.

TT: This? Doesn't register.

GG: 

GG: okay :V

GG: aaaanyways 

GG: aaaare you 

GG: happy with this?

TT: Do specify, dear.

GG: weeeeell 

GG: you came here looking for a reason why im trying to befriend you, right??

TT: More to state the reasons why I'm skeptical of that.

TT: I wasn't really expecting you to answer.

TT: If it were that simple, I'd have figured it out already.

GG: :V 

GG: soooo iiiii 

GG: typed a lot for nothing

TT: Not to me.

GG: 

GG: you dont have to figure people out, though!

TT: Imagine for a moment you're a creature who tends to repulse people just by existing, never mind by showing what they can do.

TT: It's unusual if people don't react with immediate fear, disgust, and shunning you, if they know what you can do.

TT: You understand those, at least, they make sense.

TT: and then someone comes along and says that's unfair, even though they don't gain any apparent benefit from it.

TT: It's understandably strange and you wonder why.

GG: i was scared of you at first!

GG: but youre a troll around the worms, and one thats getting the reeeeaaaally short end of things

TT: My situation isn't as bad as you seem to think.

GG: 

GG: maybe i have too much empathy to be a good citizen :'O

TT: It's not like I'm being tortured every night. 

TT: That was part of the deal.

GG: 

GG: 

GG: oh dear.

TT: why oh dear.

TT: that's a good thing.

GG: its not a good thing that it was on the table! 

GG: 

GG: are you happy like this, then?

TT: greenlet, dear, what do you think happens to things like me, usually? tea and cookies?

TT: It's fine enough. I have my snails, I have my phone because Rivali's figured out trying to take it from me is a bad idea. I still have my contacts.

TT: Life could be significantly worse. I'm not about to complain.

GG: 

 GG: okay

GG: im sorry if me trying to chatter at you is weird, then

TT: It's strange but not unwelcome.

TT: If I didn't like it, I wouldn't have messaged you.

GG: soooo i can 

GG: keep doing it?

TT: If you like, though in more practical matters, I figure I ought to repay you for the blood.

TT: My stipend's been confiscated, but I'm sure we can figure something out.

GG: noooo you dont have tooooo

TT: for my own peace of mind I enjoy not being in debt too long.

GG: its not a debt, i get it for free!!

TT: It's still a favor to me that must cost you some effort.

TT: Time is as valuable as caegers.

GG: pffff, not really xV 

GG: 

GG: mayyybe you could tell me the office gossip you hear? ;V

TT: I don't think sitting in my locked room is going to bring me much more than you with your connections already know.

TT: unless you want information on Rivali's cavern, though I don't know why that would be useful.

GG: not reaaally 

GG: 

GG: i dont knoooow

TT: Clearly you like information, though, and I do have contacts.

TT: Some in fleet.

GG: :O

GG: 

GG: i meeeaaan 

GG: i like gossip

TT: gossip is just another word for information.

GG: information about other peoples relationships! ;V

TT: I'm sure that's part of it.

GG: yessss i would love to hear it 

GG: just tell me whenever you hear something interesting, and were even ;O

TT: In a sense. 

-- twitteringTailor [TT] has given up trolling gladsomeGluttony [GG] -- 

[attractivemanusa-blog]

HOW TO TELL A GIRL YOU LIKE HER WITHOUT GETTING FRIEND ZONED

We all know how hard it is to master how to tell a girl you like her WITHOUT Getting Friend Zoned. They say that the biggest fear in the world is public speaking, I reckon the SECOND biggest is revealing how you feel about someone.

It’s like jumping out of a plane, hoping that the parachute will open and that you won’t crash and burn in case she rejects you!

So how can you guarantee that telling her you like her won’t have her running for the hills? Whilst I can’t give you a 100% guarantee she will feel the same , what I do want to do in this video  is show you strategically how you can start to reveal your feelings for her without scaring her away!

HOW TO TELL A GIRL YOU LIKE HER WITHOUT GETTING FRIEND ZONED!

I’m Renee Slansky for The Attractive Man and it’s my job as your coach to make you the most  confident and desirable man that you can be.

If you are currently dating a girl that you really like or maybe have been trying to get it across to that friend of yours that you keep hanging out with , that you really like her ….

Women can get cold feet just like you guys , and sometimes we get scared about our feelings or the possibility of a relationship because of our past experiences . So here are my tips to help you communicate your feelings to her in a way to minimize rejection and increase your chances of having those feelings reciprocated .

START TO TEST THE WATERS A LITTLE BY SENDING HINTS

The very first thing you need to do is gather as much information as you can about how she could possibly feel before you go all in. It’s like seeing how cold or deep the water is before diving into the pool!

Some basic ways to drop hints would be complimenting her in more specific detail eg :

“I think your eyes look beautiful today” , as opposed to “you look hot!” or “ I think your really great at that , you can tell your creativity is a strength , it makes you glow.”

Remember the little things she has mentioned and then do something about it! Ifs she mentioned that she never has time to eat a proper meal because of a stressful deadline , then send an Uber Eats meal to her house as a surprise

Start asking her about her future plans and include her in yours subtly with phrases like “we “ and “us”

After dropping hints , you want to  watch for her response. Does she pull away? Does she laugh compliments off or does she blush and return them? Does she change the subject when you start to talk more about the future ?

This will help give you an indication if she is on the same page or may need a little more time.  

Now before I jump into the next tip , I want you to scroll back up and hit that subscribe button , because by doing that you are investing into you and setting yourself up for a win in life and dating!

SHOW HER FIRST BEFORE YOU TELL HER

Actions will always speak louder than words and whilst women love to hear what you have to say , ultimately it’s what you do that will either win her over or not.  If you just up and tell her one day that you like or love her , but you don’t actually show it , chances are she will be doubtful , confused or just flat out reject you .

Now the easiest way you can do this without having to spend lots of money , buy 10 puppies or build a disney castle , is to simply learn what her love language is. Guys is you haven’t read Dr Gary Chapman’s book The 5 Love Languages , then stop , collaborate and listen. You need to , it will literally change everything you need to know about love and women.

Basically there are 5 ways in which we give and receive love , which are :

Acts of Service ( doing stuff for her ) Quality time ( spending time with her and being present and not on your phone ) Physical Touch ( affection , kissing and sex ) Gifts ( buying her things she appreciates ) Words Of Affirmation  ( telling her positive things , compliments etc)

Now if you can work out which way she feels loved and then focus on fulfilling that love language , I guarantee that she is going to really start to becoming attached to you!

CHOOSE THE RIGHT MEDIUM FOR YOU – TEXT OR FACE TO FACE

The next step is deciding how you are going to do it ! Are you both someone who has big deep and meaningful conversations through text? Are emojis your thing? Or is it something that she would appreciate you saying face to face?

There is no right or wrong answer , although whilst telling here face to face is the scariest , it is usually the best way to do it . That way you can really see how she reacts and if it’s possible it means you can seal the deal with a kiss!

CHOOSE THE RIGHT TIMING

Next you want to choose the right timing , this is a somewhat intimate thing to do and really is the turning point of whether it makes or breaks your new relationship. So don’t do it when you are both drunk , stressed , fighting or in a noisy place !

Be a little strategic about the timing but also be open to the right opportunity when it comes along , whether that be when you are laughing and walking in the park , after you have just been intimate or maybe when she is being a cutey and you just have to tell her there and then.

When things aren’t too orchestrated it means you won’t be as stressed out , but at the same time at least be aware of when there might be a better time to tell her! If she is super stressed out or maybe in a bad mood then it’s probably not the right time to tell her.

SAY IT LOUD AND CLEAR

Ok guys here is where you have to jump out of the plane . There is no turning back now! Truth is if you have done all the above steps first you should at least know if she is starting to feel the same and when the right time is to say it.

Now that you are ready , do it boldly! This doesn’t mean yelling it at her , it means just owning your words and your feelings . Keep it simple , clear amd authentic and stay away from cheese and long speeches.

Simple phrases like “ I think I’m falling for you “ or “ I really like you , in every way”  are complete heart melters and come across really romantic and genuine. For me when my man told me , we were literally having a conversation in a pub with his family and friends and I simply stated “ I’m in love with you, to which he responded “ I’m in love with you too .” It was simple , to the point and bold , but it was the absolute truth!

EXPECT THE BEST , BUT PREPARE FOR THE WORST

Probably not what you wanted to hear , but as I said I can’t make this entirely risk free . Truth is love will always involve some unknown and lack of control and that my friends is why we like it! It’s important to remain optimistic because whatever you focus on is what comes into fruition .

And if you have started to test a few things before hand then you should have a pretty good indication if she is feeling the same way or not before you tell her.  But a little dose of reality helps to keep things realistic and not set ourselves up for unmet expectations .

If she doesn’t feel the same way then at least you have your answer and you can decide whether or not it is worth to keep pursuing her. Rejection happens to all of us and if you haven’t already I suggest you watch our other video on tips to handle rejection which I will link in the bio.

Now if you are someone who really struggles under pressure and feels like all your confidence goes out the window , then I suggest you download our confidence cheat sheet.

It contains 18 proven ways to increase yuor confidence and become fearless , which is usually what we need when we are about to out our heart on the line!

These methods are based on science and psychology and will help ease your nerves under stressful situations like telling the girl you like her!.

HERE’S THE RECAP:

Start dropping some hints and watch for her response

Show her first before you tell her

Choose the right way to say it , in person is usually best!

Choose the ideal timing

Say it loud and clear

Hope for the best but expect she may not feel the same way.

[xheartsigh]

high on fairy dust

sugakookie oneshot, ~5k, fluff, fantasy au, college au

a.k.a in which fictional characters are born into the real world after they die and that’s how art student jungkook meets fairy yoongi

There are several ways Jungkook would describe Suga: ethereal, unearthly, out of this world. Which he kind of really is.

He was his best friend and loyal companion during kindergarten. The one you build fictional worlds with. He was also the one whom little 6 years old Jungkookie first cried over when he died in the webtoon. Such a cruel fate for the lovely, pointy eared, mint haired character. Jungkook remembered sending a letter with his mother to the writer that she cannot do this. She can’t just let Suga die. His family still like to tease him about how much he adored that comics and grew attached to one of the side characters. Still, his imaginary friend felt too real to not to be true but he grew up knowing it wasn’t real. Wings was just a story and Suga was just a character, a fragment of his imagination.

That's why Jungkook is absolutely sure he must be dreaming. Because there's no way Suga is standing right in front of him in the hallway of the university and looking at him expectantly like it's no big deal.

He’s a little shorter with a more fragile posture but still a nice figure. Confidence radiating from the way he stands with straight back and hands hovering over his bag. His skin is pale and he has long, musician fingers. His hair is faded green with a touch of silver and the colour of his dark leather jacket hardens the soft edges of his face. Maybe it's the contrast or the lights above that make his eyes glimmering with dying stars of the universe. He's so, so... beautiful.

“What?” The grumble shakes him to the core. The voice is low and smooth. No wonder it takes him a few seconds to realize what happened. WHAT? Did he really just say that out loud?

Jungkook wants to facepalm himself because wow, that's a new record, he made a fool out of himself in a span of a minute.

“Yeah... um... the lights, you know and the colours...” he murmurs awkwardly.

Gosh, now he's rambling while Suga looks him straight in the eye with a frown on his face. Jungkook wishes that the ground would shallow him up to make him stop before the situation gets even more awkward. The guy - because no matter how much he resembles Suga, he can't be him, that's not possible, right? - is surely not interested in his mumbling so he shuts up and hangs his head to look at their shoes. While he wears his favourite Timberland boots, the light haired guy has Converse and light blue jeans on that reveal a slight stripe of his ankles. Right, he can't be... because Suga never wore shoes.

“You're Jeon Jungkook, right?” The stranger asks straightforwardly and Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts. He lifts his head up so fast he's almost sure he got a whiplash. He lets out a non-coherent grunt while his mind is hyperventilating at the question how? How does he know him? Like at all because he’s deadly sure they have never met before and it’s unlikely that they have the same class...

“Did you draw this?” The used-to-be wild mint haired guy shoves a picture to his face from the last issue of the university’s magazine that stops Jungkook’s train of thoughts before it gets crazier. On the photo there’s one of his experiments with a new technique using only colourful pens without black ink. It made everything look softer and his Graphical Design professor liked it so much he included it in said magazine.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods slowly because there’s no point of denying. The string of his name is printed on the corner of the page.

The guy hums in recognition and stuffs the paper into his back pocket.

“Do you do commissions?”

“I don't even know who you are,” Jungkook deadpans out of a knee jerk reaction because well, he’s awkward with strangers. Especially with attractive, ‘hey, you look like a fairy from a webtoon’ kind of strangers and he panics.  Luckily, the other guy doesn’t scoff at his rudeness, instead he extends his right hand waiting for him to take it.

“Min Yoongi, fourth year in music production and I need an album cover. Now that you know me, can we talk?”

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 They end up in a café shop nearby the university. It seems Yoongi is a regular here because the pretty cashier girl beams at him immediately when they step inside. She looks a lot like those cosplay artists around the campus with her bright blue bob hair. Yoongi orders ‘the usual’ and then looks questioningly behind him where Jungkook immediately get flustered but manages to stammer out an ‘Americano, please’.

On the way here they haven’t exchanged any words so Jungkook doesn’t know what to say or how to start. He’s still kind of lost between the He can’t be Suga and the Oh man holy shit, someone want to pay for my art phrases.

“Sooo whose album are we talking about?” he singsongs dragging out the first syllable as soon as they seat at a table next to the window with their drinks. “I should at least know the genre and maybe a sneak-peek could also help so that I know what kind of cover would be the best...”

And there he is rambling once again. He quickly grabs hold off himself looking down to his cup and takes a sip of his coffee which is so hot, hot, hot it burns his tongue.

The other guy chuckles, not out of spite but rather a little amused. Jungkook feels relieved, maybe he hasn’t messed up his chances of getting paid yet.

“Mine. And it’s actually a mixtape,” Yoongi replies with ease while his fingers are tapping on the plastic table. He has delicate fingers, the younger notes observing the multiple silver rings on the other’s hand. One of them looks like a curved angel wing.

“Oh.” For a moment, Jungkook forgets about comparing and stares at the guy bewilderedly. “So you rap.”

It’s a statement but sounds like a question and the musician raises an eyebrow.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am not. Not really,” he protests because he doesn’t want to seem like that person. The one who judges at first sight. But he also tries to be honest. “Well, okay, yes. In my mind rappers are big bad boys with golden chains and you don’t really look like that.”

Yoongi unconsciously touches his pastel coloured locks.

“Well, not everything is what it seems,” he mutters and sips a little from his drink. From the way the golden coffee stirs it looks like liquid caramel or melted sugar. The epitome of sweetness. A little whipped cream sticks on the corner of Yoongi’s mouth and Jungkook knows he’s doomed because he likes sweet things way too much.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 Later that week he gets an e-mail with an attachment named agustd_sample.zip.

Just tell me how much time you need and name a price. - MYG

It’s short and straightforward with no emojis, strictly business which makes Jungkook panic. What if he will ruin everything and his drawing will be lame? What if nobody ever wants to work with him again? What if he will blurt out something stupid like ‘I like your hair’? The too many what if scenarios make him cringe and he hits the play button as soon as the software is done uncompressing the folder. For a moment he stills when he hears the first loud beats. It’s definitely not what he expected.

For someone who looks so soft, Yoongi has a way with raw and harsh words that pull the strings of your heart. Only a five minutes preview of a whole mixtape made Jungkook realise that there are dozens of untold stories behind those onyx eyes. Maybe he’s a bit rough around the edges and they only met once but the younger wants to peel off the layers one by one.

Two weeks at tops and you’ll pay depending on how much you like it - JJK

Ps. I liked the sample. Can’t wait to hear it all.

No, it’s too much. Keep it professional! Don’t let your inner fanboy break out.

Ps. You’re talented.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 After agreeing on the job Jungkook finds out that it’s rather easy to bump into Min Yoongi. Especially in the coffee shop where the musician often holes himself up with his laptop, earbuds plugged in to work on a new track. It’s silently becomes a routine that he sits across the older and scrabbles a few sketches in his notebook constantly asking for opinions.

By the end of the week Jungkook has dozens of drafts. Half of them are full of dark colours with edgy figures and symbols. The other half has watercolours, soft patterns but scrawled font scribbled onto the background creating a contrast. Jungkook isn't satisfied with either. The mixtape is so complex, nothing seems to do it justice.

“Stop whining and draw the first thing that comes to your mind,” Jimin, one of his crazy roommates groans after Jungkook throws another creased paper towards the bin and misses it. Their dorm’s floor became literally an ocean of dismissed ideas.

“I can’t,” the younger boy utters a theatrical sigh burying his head into his paint and ink marked hands. “He’d glare me to death if I drew him with wings. It has nothing to do with the album and on the top of it, it’s weird.”

The look Jimin gives him is close to stunned and rolls his eyes scenically.

“You’re still hung up on the Suga thing? I told you he may be cosplaying 24/7 or he’s a loyal fanboy like yourself.”

Laughter starts scratching Jungkook’s throat at that and he chuckles in the end.

“Unlikely but thanks, hyung.”

“You’re welcome,” his roommate replies but not really pays attention as he scrolls down on his phone until he looks up confused.  “But for what?”

Even if it’s not for wings but maybe Jungkook has another idea that might work. He grabs a pencil and engrosses himself in creating again.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 Suga in the webtoon was a little mischievous character, sometimes sassy but warm-hearted no less. Yoongi is a little more laid-back, reserved, and really hard to see through. He’s so much more than what first meets the eye. There’s a whole different atmosphere around him. Even when he’s just walking carelessly, there’s grace in his every move as if he was walking on thin air. The way he carries himself doesn’t attract a lot of attention because he’s like smoke: just there and then gone. Yet, he always finds himself in the company of little birds and colourful butterflies even in the colder season. He isn’t even aware or at least he said so when Jungkook jokingly claimed it's because of his hair colour. For someone who says he doesn’t care and acts all mighty about it, he's doing a pretty good job at feeding the campus’ birds with his half-eaten sandwiches. Sometimes Jungkook even catches him humming a melody to himself and it looks like he's not doing it on purpose, just out of habit. The song is melancholic and nostalgic yet his warm tone could make flowers bloom. Yoongi always smells faintly like blossoms, nothing artificial but more like that rich wildflower scent that you can't buy as cologne. Jungkook slowly gets addicted.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 It's the first time Yoongi visits Jungkook’s dorm. It's not planned, just a spontaneous idea of checking out a few drafts and sketches because the artist has to make sure they match the rapper's idea. When the idea of visiting popped out of his head in the coffee shop he really didn't think this through because the moment they step into the tiny room he shares with two equally crazy guys, Taehyung and Jimin, Yoongi halts. Jungkook is in the middle of explaining some techniques he used when he notices the sudden movement - the lack of it, actually - and turns to the other guy in surprise. Yoongi isn’t looking at him but stares at his wall covered by his drawings. He follows his gaze mindlessly, already fearing what caught the older’s attention because in the chaos there's an especially big and detailed piece. Of no other than his beloved webtoon character, Suga.

He faintly remembers the assignment he did last year and how his professor adored this picture. He was as well proud of this spring festival themed work of him. It portrayed the minty haired fairy smiling toothy with a lovely flower crown on his head and fireworks in the background. But the essential part of the drawing was his wings: the almost transparent, barely there light blue and green touches of human sized butterfly wings as it was showed in the comics. It was a little more than a fanart, almost worship and maybe that's why Jungkook flushed to tomato red as soon as he realized why Yoongi’s steps died.

In the last few weeks he stopped comparing Yoongi and Suga, almost forgetting about their obvious similarities. Almost because right now he's painfully aware of the fact as Yoongi watches the picture. It looks like him. A lot.

“It's not what you think. It's not you. He's a webtoon character, you know…” Jungkook finally catches his breath and that’s all he can manage to say to save the situation. And he’s doing a terrible job of it. He knows he’s stumbling over his words and his ears are scarlet because embarrassment choose this exact moment to come over him. But God is gracious as Yoongi interrupts him before he could make an even bigger fool out of himself.

“It's pretty.”

“Hah?”

To say that he’s dumbfounded is an understatement and he just stares at the boy analysing his work.

“You're talented,” the musician mimics his exact words from the e-mail while running his fingers through his silky, light-coloured locks. Jungkook faintly wonders how soft they must be and his palm starts itching. He’s never been more grateful for the sudden change in topics. “So where are those album cover drafts?”

Oh yeah, the drafts. That’s why they originally came for before the artist got a mini mental breakdown. Yoongi hums while looking at the drawings, sometimes points out a ‘that’s good’ or ‘not bad’ but his gaze is always flickers back to the picture on the wall. Jungkook can’t quite decipher the look in his eyes but that tiny little sly smile in the corner of his mouth gives him away.

After discussing the concept once again, the passion that is evident in Yoongi’s expression is all what it takes for Jungkook to finally finish a cover that he’s proud of. It only takes 3 hours to draw and digitalize the whole piece. It's like a vision with a boy on the top of an overturned truck with the silver moon above and fireflies around while the city behind him is on fire.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 “I like this one the most,” Jungkook points at a song title when he gets the honour of visiting Yoongi at his made-shift little studio and listening to the whole mixtape.

“It's just the interlude,” the rapper furrows his eyebrows while stretching in his chair. He looks so soft with his fluffy freshly washed hair in his oversized hoodie. Maybe the younger found him intimidating (for one tiny millisecond before the realization of his resemblance with Suga struck him) but now he knows Min Yoongi is such a softie. No wonder why he has forest flavoured candles, cactuses and a huge Kumamon plushie in his studio.

“I know but it makes me feel like home,” Jungkook shrugs lightly and he thinks Yoongi’s eyes are saying ‘Me, too’.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 It’s a surprise visit. A never-expected one leading to even less expected events.

It happens when he sneezes. First, Jungkook think it’s just flower pollen but then Yoongi coughs a little and suddenly tiny golden crystals swirling in the air and that can’t be solemnly because of the ridiculous amount of flowers in the apartment. It looked more like a flower shop than a home of two university students but Jungkook always thought that it’s maybe because of Yoongi’s roommate.

“You... are you okay?” Jungkook takes a step closer so he can check the look on the older.

Is he sick? Or… maybe he really just takes this cosplay thing way too seriously? Recently he found himself agreeing with Jimin. Maybe he’s right after all because the other day Jungkook would have sworn he had seen pointy ears under Yoongi’s hair. And now this weird, not quite known where is it coming from substance?

“Yeah, fine, don't worry,” Yoongi dismisses his stupid question with a wave. He looks around searching for a broom but Jungkook won't shut up.

“But... but you sneeze glittering stuff. That's not normal. That's exactly what fairies do in comics kind of not normal,” he adds half-jokingly half seriously but doesn't expect an explicit answer.

Meanwhile the silence is a quiet pray while Yoongi cast down his eyes.

“Yeah, I know that,” he sighs. Okay, so he knows that. That’s not mind-blowing or anything because if he’s really a fan of Wings, he should know about this little detail but the look on this face tells otherwise. It’s like something is cracking inside of him. A kind of resolve. He shrugs. “It happens.”

“You…” Jungkook isn’t sure he can process what's going on anymore. He gapes at the other guy like fish do. He feels like a broken record played too many times. “Are you for real? Is it really fairy dust? Are you really a fairy?”

The last question is almost inaudible because suddenly he feels shy and very self-aware of the craziness of the situation. You don’t just go to a stranger, more like a friend but not quite asking them if they’re fairies. It cannot happen… right?

Yoongi’s disbelieving snort is comforting in a way. Maybe he’s just dreaming or hallucinating. Jungkook doesn’t know anymore which one would be worse… or better.

“Not just any fairy, thank you very much,” the faded mint-haired boy’s huff is downright resentful as if any other implication was insulting. Then he adds something in a lighter, pleading voice. Like a wish. “You know who I am.”

Jungkook violently shakes his head. He doesn’t know anything, he thinks too much and understands too little. But then Yoongi steps closer smelling like wildflowers and his eyes are the most beautiful chocolate seas the younger has ever seen. Yet, the most amazing and unbelievable thing happens when the older’s bare feet touches the wooden ground leaving growing flowers behind. At the sight, the artist feels out of balance and he really needs someone to slap him awake.

“Suga?” he tries faintly and sounds unsure with his voice uneven and quiet. Yoongi sighs characteristically.

“I thought you’d already figured it out. The picture…”

“Oh no! I told you it's not you,” he protests immediately but bites his lower lip when Yoongi gives him that look. The knowing look Suga always used in the webtoon. The striking similarities finally make sense but not really. How is this even possible? “Well, yeah, it's you after all but it was before we met and I just can't believe…”

As he trails off, Jungkook sits back on his heels to take a closer look at the glittering substance.

“Don't touch the dust!” Yoongi… Suga warns him hurriedly and sounds just a little bit worried. “In an intense dose it makes you high.”

“Oh so it's all true? It happened because I surprised you?” Jungkook looks up curiously. In the webtoon fairies emitted fairy dust when they had high adrenaline level which was produced by sudden emotions such as fear, surprise or even love.

“Let’s say that. I can’t control it,” the fairy boy grumbles out in an undeniably uncomfortable manner. Suddenly, his elfish ears stick out in a way that can’t go unnoticed anymore. The younger wonders how he could not notice them for so long. “Come on I'll give you some herb tea so you don't faint and I'll explain everything.”

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 “People see what they want to see. The universe doesn't want them to freak out and hunt us down. It's in the balance. Those who die in a fictional world, get another chance in the real one.”

They sit on the coach in the living room of Yoongi and his roommate’s apartment and the fairy tries his best to explain everything to the overly eager and quite shocked boy who seems like never running out of questions.

“But-but what if the antagonist die?” Jungkook blinks innocently because the thought of story-escaped magical creatures and evil characters running around freely in the world is a little bit scary. Yes, even for a webtoon-lover, comics scribbling enthusiastic like him, okay? Especially for him who knows exactly what it’s like to create a world with a few words or strokes and how easy it is to destroy it with another.

“Oh there's another factor. People have to think the characters didn't deserved death,” Yoongi adds and the younger is quick to agree.

“You didn't.”

“Thanks,” the fairy murmurs. His voice is soft and grateful. “Maybe that's why I'm here.”

What he doesn’t say: maybe you’re the reason why I’m still here.

Jungkook is never the one who can be satisfied with only the outlines. He needs more than just the highlights, he needs circumstances, details and colours.

“And then what? You just woke up in this world?”

“Well, it's a little more difficult than that. It's magic after all,” Yoongi shrugs and with a flick of his finger tiny snowflakes starts raining down on them. In the webtoon, fairies wasn’t only associated with spring and warm but every aspect of nature. The winter wonders were portrayed just as beautiful as blooming flowers in summer. Like it should be. “Yeah, I woke up in a bed like it was just a dream. The family I was assigned to and everyone involved believed I was always here and it was easy to forget about my earlier life. I only remembered while I was dreaming until I met Seokjin.”

“Your roommate? Is he a…” Jungkook blinks in surprise and tears his gaze away from the snowfall. He’s still processing that all of it is real.

“Yeah, he is. I mean Jin is definitely not a fairy but he also came from a book. He was once a prince if you wonder. He introduced me to others like us. Sunny is a mermaid and Jackson is a lame excuse of a warlock,” he scoffs trying to mask his amusement as he mentions familiar names. After a few moments of silence he lowers his gaze from the snowflakes to glance at the boy sitting on the other side of the couch. “But I’ve never met any human before who could see through the Mist.”

“The Mist?” the younger frowns at him at the weird word.

“It makes ordinary what isn't in people’s eyes,” Yoongi nods and then laughs. “Like last year, that earthquake in Japan. That was a dragon on loose actually.”

Jungkook faintly remembers the destruction caused by the unpredictable volcanic activity. Then it all makes sense; that’s why he didn’t see the extraordinary and odd signs around.

“Oh... Like your ears,” he murmurs.

“What about them?”

“They're pointy but I couldn’t see them for a while.”

“Yeah, just like that,” the older looks him in the eye. Maybe he just wants to see what changed. How could these pretty dark orbs resembling so much to chocolate brownies suddenly reveal a whole new world? But his gaze is so blunt and he stares for so long that it makes Jungkook blush. It makes him think even wilder things.

“Please…” he pleads because he doesn’t really know how to put his request into words.

“What?” Yoongi gapes at him which makes him gulp. For a few moments he’s hesitating: should he say it or should he keep it to himself? It’ll sound weird but the what if is worse, isn’t it? He’ll lose either way so he gives it a chance.

“Let me see your wings,” he blurts out with reddening cheeks.

The fairy looks taken aback at the sudden request and shakes his head vigorously.

“No.” It’s harsh and definite but Jungkook doesn’t know how to give up.

“Hyung…” he pouts.

“Maybe you won't even see them.”

It doesn’t work. Jungkook has the same determination in his eyes that he has when he draws, it’s like chasing perfection. And now he’s cheating, using his cute puppy eyes to manipulate the older’s weak, sensitive heart.

“Okay,” he sighs and grabs the hem of his shirt with fidgeting fingers. Quickly like he wants to get over it as soon as possible he pulls it up so the material rolls up on his back revealing his smooth white skin under.

But nothing else. No wings.

“Oh,” Jungkook puffs and disappointment is boiling inside him while Yoongi looks like he's afraid he freaked him out.

“Is it that bad? I think they're pretty but I…”

The younger hangs his head down and even if he doesn’t say it out loud, his tone is apologetic. “I can't see them.”

“O-oh... I told you so,” Yoongi whispers but he looks even more disappointed.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 “You’re staring.”

It should sound like an accusation but it doesn’t even compare.

“Your hair is pink now,” Jungkook states in awe eyeing the pastel colours of the fairy’s locks while he watches him work.

“Nice observation, Sherlock. Now can you stop staring?” Yoongi shuffles a little uneasy and clicks a few buttons to arrange the vocal levels. The edge of his voice is not that intimidating as it once was. Since he has nothing to hide from the younger, he acts more Suga-like and doesn’t even care explaining himself when sometimes the artist catches him floating a few inches above the ground or leaving flowers petals all over the floor. It’s only been a few weeks since the big revelation but Jungkook still can’t get over the fact that he’s friends with a fairy, not to mention his favourite webtoon-character ever!

“No,” Jungkook replies without a second thought before he can stop himself and immediately has an internal mental breakdown.

Yoongi makes an unamused grunt and looks away. But hey, is that a blush creeping its way on his cheeks? Blame his pale skin that gets rosy too easy. Blame the heater that works overtime in this cold weather. Blame anything but his irregular heartbeats and the subtle (and not-so-subtle) fleeting touches that leave behind goosebumps in their wake when Jungkook sits just a little bit too close.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 The two of them spend more and more time together even after Jungkook’s commission is long over (and no, he didn’t let the rapper pay instead he asked him to go get lamb skewers together). There’s still no end of the younger’s curiosity. He wants to know everything about the world Yoongi came from (Is it true that you only drank flower nectar?) and what happened to him after he woke up here (What made you pursue music?). When he asks ’do you only date fairy girls?’ Yoongi can’t help but laugh. Jungkook doesn’t know what it means.

To be honest, he doesn’t know a lot of things. He’s too young and awkward, making a fool out of himself too often but he wears his heart on his sleeves and he’s passionate about the things he likes. The people he likes… loves. He’s just a boy but in a sense of the word Yoongi is too but in-between late night talks and surprise back hugs under magical crystals none of it matters at all.

Once Jungkook asks tremblingly if he misses the other world and Yoongi looks at him for a long time before replying. ‘No’ is an answer of a character destined for a tragic end and a man who found what he was looking for among humans. This is the reason why he prefers to be called Yoongi and not Suga anymore.

Sometimes it makes Jungkook wonder why can't they move on, why are they stuck at the limbo between being strangers, friends and something else, he’s not sure what but something more. Other times he's painfully aware of it: the Mist is still there. Some things he sees, other things he can't see. Yoongi says it’s okay, says that people have a hard time accepting the other world as a whole but Jungkook doesn’t want to be just anybody. When they exchange secret smiles and knowing looks, Yoongi’s eyes whispering ‘not yet’ and the younger becomes anxious. Then when?

Soon. Soon. Soon. The universe tells them when once Jungkook is careless enough to gets high on fairy dust and Yoongi keeps tangling his fingers in his hair while the younger sleeps off the aftermath in his lap.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 It happens when neither of them thinks about it. They’re watching a movie with the double trouble while eating ice cream in dead ass winter to celebrate the end of their exams. The living room is filled with loud hassle about changing the channel although they’re already in the middle of the film.

“Give it to me…”

“No, you can't switch…”

Typical. Jimin and Taehyung are fighting over the remote control. Again. And it may be a careless limb or perhaps an elbow that knocks the spoon out of Yoongi’s hand but either way it results in the rainbow-coloured ice cream splashing all over the oldest’s shirt.

“Oh shit. Sorry, hyung,” one of them mumbles while the other quickly adds:

“Really sorry, but it was totally Jiminnie's fault.”

While they’re arguing about it, Yoongi just sighs tossing his half-eaten ice cream aside and looks down at his shirt that slowly becomes soaked with the sweet dessert and he feels a little cold.

“Brats,” he just grumbles and stands up not really knowing what to do. Luckily, Jungkook is quick to react.

“You should wash it out before it dries, I'll give a clean one,” he offers like it’s common between them. The clothes-sharing. For a moment, he regrets his straightforwardness but Yoongi sounds grateful.

“Okay,” he nods and shuffles awkwardly to the tiny bathroom.

Meanwhile the younger searches for his smallest shirt to fit Yoongi’s delicate frame which is almost as broad as his but not as built. When he finds a good enough Nirvana tee he passes by the still arguing duo and walks into the bathroom without hesitation. It's a mistake. Definitely, because Yoongi has already took off the damaged shirt and placed in the sink letting the water flow do its job. It shouldn't be a problem, he has seen half-naked men, hell, he has to deal with his roommates on daily basis. But it's Yoongi.

Yoongi who has the nicest curves and the smoothest skin he's ever seen. Not to mention that he has the most beautiful eyes that mirrors his equally breathtakingly gorgeous soul. Suddenly, the line of the fairy’s shoulders goes rigid and Jungkook knows he got caught but doesn't care. Not when he can see it. Them: the wide stretched wings that spout from the hallow between his blade bones. Even now, sniffed with tension they're utterly magical. They're technicolour yet transparent, smooth like silk and fragile like glass at the same time. They tremble a little when Yoongi tears his gaze off the mirror and turns to directly look at Jungkook.

“What?” He rolls his eyes but cannot hide the pink on his cheeks and the younger knows he must be a sight too with his wide eyes and mouth agape.

“They're beautiful,” he whispers the most honest thing ever to the world to know. “You're beautiful.”

They meet somewhere halfway. The kiss is sloppy and overexcited but Jungkook smiles when he feels the fairy wings flutter because of his touch. It’s an act of recklessness and it tastes like the strawberry ice cream they just ate which should be gross but Jungkook doesn't care. Not when Yoongi smells like flowers, fairy dust and home in his arms.

[letsgrowhope]

Just Do It For the Memoir

I was hoping when I got married I’d solve the mystery and be able to pass on the secret

On how you actually make relationships work

Because everything prior was the worst

Being single for me mostly felt like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube during a game of Jenga

I read a lot motivational books during that time. A lot of soul searching, find your path, unlock the door into the magic you always imagined, books. One of them said that how you view life says a lot about you

Some people view life like writing a story. Or like playing a game. Like taking a walk in the park or baking a cake

I viewed life like a puzzle

A very confusing, intricate, puzzle run by a sneaky magician who wants to psyche me out by making pieces unmovable, against all logic

There are some major pieces in life that we believe have to fit a certain way in order for the picture to end out at all right. Let’s call them the corner pieces. The framework you have to solidify in order for any progress to be made.

My corner pieces were finding my soul mate and my dream career

And I guarantee you I tried every configuration to make the damn pieces fit

You should be able to just pick one and work it around until it fits the way you want

You can’t tell me I’m the only one who does it. Just think about the last time your single girlfriend texted a guy she liked. Let me guess. She asked you and 6 other girlfriend’s how to phrase it just right. Should I lead with a ‘hey’ or ‘hiiiii' or ‘sup’ or just a waving hand emoji?

Subconsciously we actually believe that if we don’t orchestrate that initial text just right, he won’t bite. And we’ll screw up the whole plan to make this the corner piece that fits dammit!

Are we supposed to wait for him to come around, just give him more time? Or call him out and demand what you want! No, go on more dates, girl you just need to meet more guys. Wait, maybe ask your married girlfriends to set you up, that could work...

I went on 20 first dates in LA

I then moved to London and went on 20 more

And that year didn’t bring me any closer to finding love

I had an old friend come visit me in April

We got engaged in July

And married that October

PC: Jeremiah Warren

And I genuinely don’t know how it happened, what made the pieces suddenly fit

Which bothered me

In the midst of being so excited and over the moon to be getting engaged and married that soon, I found myself trying to blink back the moment that made it all finally work. It happened too fast, I must have missed it! Rewind, go back through it in slow motion. Still can’t find it. The “thing” I did to make it work. The secret I could pass on to my other girlfriends when the guy they last went out with turned out to be another jerk.

When I was single my advice was to go out more cause “he ain’t gonna jump through your window!”

Now, I’m at a loss. Because that’s not how it worked at all.

But it makes for a great story. Another thing I used to always say: “Just do it for the memoir!” Put yourself out there, go for it, say yes- because every experience could be validated in my mind if I learned something from it. No, he didn’t just break my heart. He taught me a great lesson, so surely I can’t regret it or blame him (that was bullshit, don’t listen to it)

I actually really love memoirs. The first memoir I read was when I was a junior in high school. It was Barbara Walter’s, “Audition”. Ever since, I’ve been hooked on bad ass women’s life stories. I used to buy a new, hard backed memoir, before every trip I took. On my flight to Thailand and India I read Diane von Furstenberg's “The Woman I Wanted to Be” and between Cuba and London I read Gloria Steinem’s “My Life on the Road”. I was addicted to hearing the story in reverse. The wise, successful woman that spoke of her past insecurities, heart breaks, and failures with a separation and ease. They were no longer life wrenching anxieties, they were just good stories. All of their lives read like fairytales, because even the rough patches just added glamour to the story.

I thought I could be the same. I distinctly remember sitting in the JFK airport waiting for a flight to Dubai when I was reading Gloria Steinem’s memoir (and simultaneously texting an old friend/crush/lover. Bad old habit of mine, ya know just playing with fire). I took a picture of her words and it is still saved to my phone. Because I thought it was the answer. She said, “I always tried to stay in touch with the people that were important in my life and the people that I loved. Once I love, I love forever, and there is nothing more cozy and meaningful than old friends and lovers. I’m so fortunate that I have had and have so much love in life. Without it, I would never be who I am.”

It made me feel so much better. It made sense to the messy trail of fleeting relationships I was beginning to create. It validated my tendency to draw close to men quickly, get a glimpse of the intimacy I craved, and watch it blow past and never last. I’m sure Gloria didn’t intend for me to turn her words into the permission I needed, but I thought realizing that old lovers made me who I am would allow me to look back on those “relationships” with fondness of sweet memories and lessons.

But those lessons were mostly “let it go” and “don’t get too attached”. Be chill, be free, be the girl that can just enjoy a person in the moment but have no need to make it last.

I would linger around for guys that I knew would never commit, because I prided myself in being able to “just be friends” with someone I used to be “more” with. It felt more mature, more modern, to be able to move on from relationships as a level headed adult that was still able to maintain a friendship. So that’s what I did. I still texted all my old lovers and if we were in the same city, met up with them even. Every new relationship I entered I proudly said that I would have no hesitation to pick up the phone and call any ex’s. Because they were all my friends. There were no hard feelings, I wasn’t jaded. I still cared about them. It was a banner I had to wave to convince myself and everyone else that I was in control.

I even went so far as to convince myself that wanting marriage made me a wimp. I was laying next to someone I knew had no interest in anything serious, and I have the journal entry I wrote about why I suddenly didn’t believe in marriage. I had convinced myself that me wanting commitment was just me being insecure. That maturity would allow me to let lovers come and go.

It’s been a long journey in a short amount of time. It’s certainly been a puzzle. But each twist of the Rubik’s lends a great story. And while I no longer say “just do it for the memoir”, I am grateful for each of those chapters. Because they really do shape you, and ultimately, free you.

But I’ll tell you the end now just so you don’t miss it: it’s not all for the memoir. Don’t do things just for the story. Because you can have a fabulous memoir and still feel empty. You can have fantastic stories about jetting off to new countries and hooking up with beautiful models and still never feel completely validated. The stories are great for learning but they’re no good at fulfilling. But boy do they bring all the feelings…so don’t you worry, I’ll go ahead and still tell the stories.

[itsjayyyy]

November 3, 2018 6:54 pm

Yeah it’s been a hot minute since I last updated. and of course I’m going to write a ton, but not nearly as much as what has passed.

So yesterday (friday), before I went to class I checked the weather app to decide which jacket to wear, and saw that it was going to rain around 3pm. I only had one class, so I figured I’d go to it, then stay at the library for a while, get a mango smoothie, and see if I can get some homework done. Like, three hours into sitting there, I had still done close to no homework, rather listened to kris wu’s new album (can you believe the nerve of that guy? He really released his album on the same day as exo, and you can tell that shit was intentional like he wanted to overshadow them (and he sure did, even posted a pic of the itunes charts where his album was #1 while exo’s was #4) lmao petty af) I also started to listen to all of my music in my itunes library, starting with most played and going down. I haven’t even made a dent btw, I have like, some odd 5 whole days of music to go through. Around 4 I figured I should get heading home, so that I don’t have to face the worst of rush hour traffic. Of course, just as I’m stepping out of the library, rose texted me saying it was pouring on the west side. The clouds on campus looked troublesome, but I figured it wouldn’t be too bad.

It was. I stopped by a gas station, and as I got there it started raining. Honestly, on the drive home, the rain wasn’t my biggest problem (I’ve driven in pouring rain so often that I don’t care about getting wet any more), it was the wind. It seriously almost knocked my bike clean over. And it didn’t help that the rain impacted my engine and made it struggle to speed up properly. I really thought I might have gotten into an accident, it was that bad. But as you can see by me typing this, I’m just fine. I took a hot shower, ate dinner, then receded back to my room as always. I brought with me a cup of instant coffee (seriously, cafe bustelo instant coffee is leagues better than regular drip coffee, like what the hell.) and started a kdrama that yoongi recommended called stranger. The dramafever app has been giving me issues recently, so I decided to watch it on my laptop. But when I went to the website, it displayed a message saying they shut down like two weeks ago. Sure shows how little I use that subscription that I didn’t even notice lmao. Luckily the show was also on netflix, so I watched it there. 

I didn’t even consider that maybe I shouldn’t drink coffee before bed, until like 12:30 am. I tried to go to bed around 10:30, but just couldn’t sleep no matter what. At first I thought it was because of small noises like mom doing the dishes or pulling a chair out (and it was irritating the living hell out of me- i wanted to go out there and scream that I was trying to sleep and they needed to stop making noise), but then I remembered the coffee, and how the same thing happened a few months ago. I took some cold medicine to help knock myself out, and set a second alarm just in case.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard for me to wake up despite getting like 5.5 hours of sleep (I mean I did sleep in for an additional 30 mins after the first alarm, but I didn’t feel like I was dying). I left for work 15 minutes early, just in case my bike gave me any issues. I was on cash at work (UGH), which was made even worse now that we don’t get to go to MIMO. I was literally in front of a register for 7.5 hours, when usually it only used to be like 6, with the trip to MIMO accounted for (and the closing cashiers taking over). I was nonstop leaving to go to the bathroom to make up for it, though. 

It’s unbelievable, the lengths to which rose will put other people above me. She mentioned that she was going to go out to the mall to buy a gift for peter’s birthday, and I asked if I could come along because peter’s my bro too and I wanted to get him a gift. But she pulled the whole “uh yeah, you can come if you want” and i was like. if you don’t want me to come, just say so. and she was like “oh you know it was just gonna be like, me and peter and I don’t want to go inviting people by myself” as if she hasn’t invited peter and paul into our hangout times before (matter of fact, there was one time when it was literally just supposed to be me and rose and she dragged peter along, peter and I began to argue, AND SHE SAID SHE DIDN”T WANT TO GET INVOLVED AND SPENT THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON HANGING WITH HIM. but hey whatever, fuck jay right?) and also as if they were hanging out as friends and not with the purpose of buying peter a gift. She also mentioned how paul was planning to finesse something (also huge pet peeve: paul needs to stop calling it “finessing,” just say you fucking stole it.) I mentioned how I seriously didn’t want to move in with paul. Like, rose peter and I all have responsibilities and bills to pay, meanwhile paul still gets spoon fed by his parents. Do I really want to risk my housing and credit score by signing a lease with some kid who hasn’t paid rent his entire life? Hell no. And yeah, the fact that he has no conscience and openly steals is a huge issue for me. Rose tried to brush it off but I kept pushing it, saying that it was a deal breaker for me. She said that “we’ve been planning to move in together for a really long time” and i’m fucking livid. Who is “we”???? Her, peter, and paul???? As if her, me and GIO didn’t plan on moving in together last year? Why does paul get precedence over me when rose and I have been planning to move out together for over a year before she even met him??? Whatever, I’m looking at clara’s lease ending soon, she said she’s looking for roommates. 

I know I’ve probably said this a million times, but I hate family dinners. It’s just so damn obvious that they all want me dead. I always get the least amount of food, nobody talks to me, and nobody cares when I leave halfway through. I spilled my glass trying to put in ice, but didn’t bother to wipe it up. I just really don’t care, it’s not like I’m at the table long enough for it to bother me anyways.

Alright now I’m gonna really quickly hop over to the last update to see what I left off at. So the first thing I feel like I want to talk about (I think it’ll be better if I go from one topic to another, rather than try to do it chronologically) is heather. So I don’t remember if I wrote about this (and I’m not gonna read all my updates to find out), but one time on a friday heather and I made plans to meet up at the library. I texted her that day asking if we could instead meet at the student union (needed to stop by the atm to get rent money), and she didn’t reply (it said “delivered though). I got a call from my boss asking if I could come in early, and I was like yea sure since by then heather hadn’t even opened my message and it was about 30 mins from her next class. I walked through the breezeway, and as I walked I saw her, walking with someone else (prob a classmate) and talking, just hanging out. I dipped into the bathroom so she wouldn’t see me. She later texted me (one minute before her next class started) saying “sorry, my phone died and I just now got this message.” I guess she didn’t know that iphones tell you if the message was delivered to the other person’s phone. yeah, it does kind of hurt, that she bailed on me. it feels like I’m a second option, and if given the chance, she’d hang with other people. Since then, we met up like, once in the last month. In the last two weeks or so, I haven’t seen her at all. She just keeps saying “sorry, I’m too busy now” or “sorry, I didn’t see your message.” I asked if I could borrow her textbook for the gov exam, and she said she had a problem with the rental company and had to temporarily return it. I got a 74 on the exam, by the way. I figure maybe I just shouldn’t message her any more; if she wants to hang with me she’ll message me first.

Speaking of friends, I posted a pic on ig the other day. It’s a far away shot of me that rose took, sitting in the corner of a cafe. The caption was just “let’s get this (bread emoji)” ya know, just a dumb phrase. Anjlie liked it, and I was like... why. I looked at her profile (I unfollowed her long ago so I haven’t kept up with her feed) and she’s changed from 2014 low-saturation tumblr aesthetic to wannabe ig famous aesthetic. Also, she’s tagged this one girl in a lot of her captions. I can tell they’re friends, but it looks like the other girl doesn’t tag her back in nearly as much of her photos. Anjlie was always kind of socially anxious, it seems like she’s made one (1) friend in college that she’s completely attached herself to.

So, my motorcycle. Yeah, I changed the air filter, but it didn’t really affect it. Then I changed the spark plugs (also have to do with gas combustion), didn’t really see an improvement either (but MAN you should see these spark plugs, they’re entirely rust). I figured maybe it’s because the gas tube has a u-shaped curve in it, maybe it’s having trouble lifting the gas back up. So I changed it, and the next day when I walked back to my bike the gas had drained nearly completely onto the ground via a leak that I couldn’t find for the life of me. When I first walked up to my bike I saw some guy standing around kind of suspiciously and got worried, but then when I saw the leak he was like “is this your bike? I was calling parking services because I was concerned about the leak.” I ended up leaving my bike there for nearly a week (and took the city bus to school instead, since obvs I couldn’t drive) before I could get a tow truck called. i knew it was the carbureator by this point due to additional research, and I tried to fix it myself right there in the parking lot, but one of the screws was stripped so I took it to the mechanic and told him there was a leak because of the carbureator. one day when I took an uber home from work, I slammed my thumb in the car door and it bled so fucking bad. I cried like a bitch. It felt like I was nancy kerrigan, because my bike was going to be repaired soon but I couldn’t drive it because nail. But the bike got “fixed,” in which the mechanic said that the issue was the gas filter which was kind of weak. I was like yea I replaced the gas filter myself, but I used the same kind as before so that’s not the issue. and of course the leak didn’t go away. So I brought the bike back and was like “there’s a problem in the carbureator. please clean and rebuild it. don’t try to diagnose anything because I’ve told you before that the issue is the carbureator and you won’t listen.” he held onto the bike for a week and said “it’s the accelerator pump.” i told him to also clean the fucking carb and he finally did (for $267). I told iris and nick how I wanted to just buy a new bike and they were all “oh no that’s too expensive” as if I haven’t spent over $800 in repairs the last two months. And I didn’t even ask for advice from those people, anyways. 

I did call in, for like all of my remaining usf shifts. I’m now officially ioa exclusive, as a result of my incessant bitching about how much I hate usf. And I got cross trained as a cook at cinnabon!!!!! I’ve done a shit job so far tho, I always underestimate the number of buns needed and then end up running out. Tomorrow I have a shift at cinnabon tho, so I can finally redeem myself. Next week I’m scheduled for tuesday and friday too, so I guess my availability didn’t get 100% approved. It’s okay though, one more month until the semester is over and I can change my availability again to weekends only for real for real this time. I’m also going to take up delivering for postmates. they allow motorcycles, so between classes and in the evening I’m gonna deliver. they say you can make on average 10-15 an hour, which is pretty decent considering I’m mostly going to be driving. And even though they don’t reimburse you gas money, I get 80 mpg so I think I’m good. The other day was my enrollment appointment for spring. I already had a schedule ready, just needed to press submit. but then rose was like “oh can you pls pick up peter he doesn’t have a car” and it made me 13 minutes late and all the classes I chose were full. So I had to pick a new schedule, where the first class is at 7:30 am and the last class gets out at 7:15 pm. With like, a 4-hour gap in the middle. Kill me.

I don’t think I have many other topics to cover. I submitted my second paper in english, and next week I submit the last. I bought new toothpaste the other day. still looking to move out (but now, planning to wait till like january). still depressed as shit. but hey, let’s just play it by ear.

[sasuke420]

1-65 except the ones you already did

ok this is A LOT so sorry if you’re on mobile

1: Do you have a crush at the moment?

answered

2: Have you ever been deeply in love?

answered

3: Longest relationship you've ever been in?

like........unofficially almost 2 years but official a combination of 2 months then 7 or 8 months idfk 

4: Have you ever changed for someone?

i absorb the personality of everyone i ever talk to but like, not intentionally

5: How is your relationship with your ex?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA i hope we never speak again or if we do it’s just so i can be like FUCK YOU again tbh,

6: Have you ever been cheated on?

nah

7: Have you ever cheated?

nope

8: Would you date someone who's well known for cheating?

what the fuck no

9: What's the most important part of a relationship?

umm......communication? trust? all those words people throw out that are true and real but i love being very open at all times so truly communication

10: Do you like to be in serious relationships or just flings?

serious i guess? my last “fling” was kind of a disaster so idk 

11: When you are dating someone do you believe in going on "breaks"?

NOPE NOPE NOPE almost fell for that bullshit and it’s basically what ended my last relationship so absolutely not no thanks!!! not for me

12: How many people have you ever hooked up with?

i hate the phrase hooked up bc it could mean anything from kissing to sex so i never know how to answer this?! i already made a post the other day sayin ive kissed 4 people so theres that i guess 

13: What's one thing you regret saying/doing in a previous relationship?

answered

14: What age do you think is appropriate for kids to start having sex?

idk you do you but like, personally before like........16 seems too dangerous imo bc you are Children but as long as it’s safe and whatever idk

15: Do you believe in the phrase "age is just a number"?

no bc it’s usually used by predatory older dudes but i mean age differences are fine as long as it’s not creepy and terrible. but don’t say this as a 24 year old dude as an excuse to date a high schooler

16: Do you believe in "love at first sight"?

answered

17: Do you believe it's possible to fall in love on the internet?

that’s like, exclusively what’s happened to me so, yeah

18: What do you consider a deal breaker?

i don’t have like a specific list in my mind or like one THING i cannot tolerate but i guess a huge one would be anything having to do w not tolerating mental illness bc that is my entire personality

19: How do you know it's time to end a relationship?

when they make you feel shitty more than they make you feel happy

20: Are you currently in a relationship?

nop

21: Do you think people who have dated can stay friends?

yeah i’ve seen it happen and work out fine

22: Do you think people should date their friends?

sure why not, it’s nice to be friends then have it turn into something or whatever. i like relationships based off of friendships 

23: How many relationships have you had?

um i’d really only count like, one, so......1

24: Do you think love can last forever?

yeah i love happy old couples

25: Do you believe love can conquer all things?

um.......not really??? that’s like, a big statement, 

26: Would you break up with someone your parents didn't approve of?

no because i dated someone my parents disliked for a long time

27: If you could go back in time and give yourself one piece of advice about dating what would it be?

answered

28: Do you think long distance relationships can work?

absolutely tho i’m not huge on them for myself

29: What do you notice first about another person?

answered

30: Are you straight, bi, gay or pansexual?

me all the time: IM GAY AS HELL

but really i’m bi 

31: Would it bother you if your partner suffered from any mental illness?

answered

32: Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?

haha........................................................................................yeah and it’s fucked up my entire psyche so (-:

33: Do you want to get married one day?

yeah!

34: What do you think about getting your partner's name tattooed?

sounds like a very bad idea and also wouldn’t even be like aesthetically pleasing so no thanks

35: Could you be in a relationship without sex?

probably? idk

36: Are you still a virgin?

no i’m a sinner

37: What's more important: Looks or personality?

personality but obviously i like people that i am physically attracted to so.....i mean its both but i am very big on personality which is why hookups arent rly my thing too much

38: Do you enjoy love films?

do i enjoy them? i will SOB at them, so, 

39: Have you ever given anyone/received roses?

nope

40: Have you ever had a valentine?

answered i think

41: What's your imagination of a "perfect date"?

getting drunk and taking a nap together

42: Have you ever read "Romeo & Juliet"?

i did for school in like 8th grade 

43: What's more important: Your partner or your friends?

gotta get that balance. don’t neglect either of them

44: Would you consider yourself "romantic"?

i call myself a hopeless romantic constantly

45: Could you imagine to date one of your current friends?

yes

46: Have you ever been "friendzoned"?

fake concept. i had high school crushes that never went anywhere but that doesnt mean friendzoned really so no

47: Which "famous couple" is your favorite?

i don’t pay attention to thos things honestly................mulder and scully

48: What's your favorite love song?

i have an entire playlist of love songs, hmu for it, but ummm probably first day of my life if thats considered a love song

49: Have you ever broken someone's heart?

eh. kind of. complicated

50: If you're single, why do you think you are?

i’m ugly

(bc i have been single for like...2 months and thos things dont come fast)

51: Would you rather date someone who's rich but a douchebag or someone who's poor but a nice guy?

poor but nice guy 100%

52: Are you good at giving other people advices regarding dating/ relationships?

ehhhhhhhhhhhhh not really i mean sometimes? i don’t know it depends on the situation 

53: Are you jealous of couples when you're single?

LOL.............yes i am known to get kinda salty

54: How important is it to make a relationship official (p.e. on Facebook)?

eh. i like having it be Official and known as a thing but other than that idk

55: Would you consider yourself "clingy", "overly attached" or "jealous"?

i will cling to you with the force of a thousand suns (but try to play it cool and fail yikes)

56: Have you ever "destroyed" a relationship?

nah he did that (side eye emoji)

57: Do you think it's silly to consider suicide because of a broken heart?

me: i’m going to kill myself when we break up

so like, no, but don’t do it because i didn’t and that was a dumbass mindset

58: Are you the "dominant" or the "submissive" part in a relationship?

the MOST submissive you will ever meet, in your entire life, please dominate me

59: Have you ever forgotten important dates like your partner's birthday or your anniversary?

answered i think

60: What's your opinion on open relationships?

whatever works for u but probably not my thing

61: Who's more important: Your partner or your family?

my siblings can fuck off but parents and partner are both important

62: How do you define "cheating"?

????????? is there more than one definition??? its fuckin cheating. dont flirt or do shit w other people. 

63: Is watching porn while being in a relationship inappropriate?

it doesn’t make me feel awesome to think about but it’s not like, an issue

64: Do you think Valentine's Day is overrated?

me when im single: yes

me if i was in a relationship: NO (HEART EYES X1000)

65: Would you consider yourself a "cuddler"?

WOULD I? CONSIDER????????????? I DONT CONSIDER ANYTHING. I KNOW FOR A FUCKING FACT I AM. i will cuddle 24/7 365 baby