#iphone new model lunch

[fcble]

LOOSE ENDS — A collection of drabbles to pick up the threads I started months ago. TOTAL WORD COUNT: 3.0k FEATURING: Yoon Mingeun, Kang Haksu, Andrew Han, Ahn Jinguk, Lee Taein, Oh Kiyoung, The Midas Touch

JULY 2024. A direct epilogue to this drabble. Previously posted as screenshots on my main but I don't think anyone saw that so here we go again.

Two hours after having his phone confiscated, Mingeun knocks on Haksu's bedroom door.

Haksu opens it, looking clean and put together for someone just sitting in his room. Sitting in his room, and likely eavesdropping on everything they said. "I heard what happened," he says, confirming Mingeun's suspicions.

He steps inside, trying not to look too closely at the Bible on Haksu's bedside table, or the cross hanging above his bed, the only decoration on otherwise spotless wall. A diffuser sits on top his dresser, filling the room with a faint pine scent.

Haksu shuffles through the dresser for a moment, and tosses three iPhone boxes onto his bed. They're all slightly different variants of the iPhone 15, in blue and white and black.

"You can have any of them," Haksu says. "I don't know why our fans keep giving me iPhones when I use a Samsung."

Mingeun doesn't get gifts like that. Haksu has his phones, and Andrew received a high-end laptop. He must be doing something wrong.

He doesn't say anything, just points to the plastic container in Haksu's hands. "What's that?"

Haksu opens the lid, and that's when Mingeun realizes it's full of index cards. "SIM cards."

There must be fifteen or so in the box, by his best judgement. Each index card has the SIM card taped to it, with a phone number across the top and a series of dates running down the right side of the card.

"You keep these?" Mingeun asks, plucking one out of the box. The dates on it cover the end of 2022 and a few months of 2023.

"I trade them in if they get really bad," Haksu says. "The company pays for most of these. I switch them out when I need to."

He flicks through the container and eventually pulls out a card that looks no different from the rest of the cards. "Here. I haven't used this one in a while. You probably won't get too many calls."

The most recent date on it is June 2022. Mingeun accepts it, and tries to peel the card off without ripping the paper. The paper rips anyway.

He looks at the phones again. "This is fine with you? I can take it?"

Haksu nods impatiently. He produces a pen from somewhere and adds a new line to the index card: Mingeun's name and July 2024 to an unknown date. "I don't use them."

Mingeun picks the blue one, because it's the most basic model. His own phone is still the 12. The upgrade doesn't feel right, not when it happened because Daewoong confiscated his phone.

"Thanks," he says awkwardly.

Haksu waves him off. "Don't worry about it." The cards and the two remaining phones disappear back into his dresser, and Mingeun is left clutching his new phone like a lifeline.

SEPTEMBER 2024. A sequel to this drabble.

Andrew's second visit to the Danyoung Group is no less intimidating than the first. It doesn't have to be a meeting at all. It could be an email. A text message. An Instagram DM. Does Jinguk even use Instagram? Probably not.

His answer is one word. In hindsight, it's ridiculous he even thought otherwise. All it took was spending a day almost, but not quite, third-wheeling with Jaeseop and Jaeseop's girlfriend, Seoyeon. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be an outing for Fable on one of Jaeseop's rare days off, with Seoyeon accompanying them only because Jaeseop had so few days off. Then the rest of the group started dropping like flies in the days leading up their lunch: Kiyoung and Intak at the premiere of an anime film, Haksu on something akin to a date of his own, Byeonghwi doing something he's been incredibly cagey about, and Mingeun's second or third bout of house arrest this year. Andrew's lost count.

The lack of an audience at lunch gave Andrew the courage to ask Jaeseop about his predicament, and Jaeseop the freedom to chew out Andrew in public—all while Seoyeon sat there quietly and ate her food.

The direct consequence of that day is today. This time, Andrew takes the elevator to the ninth floor, and heads down the hall until he reaches the room labeled 923 in gold text on a shiny black plaque. He knocks first, then pushes the door open without waiting for a response.

The first thing he notices is that the view from the ninth floor isn't much different from the view from the fifteenth. This room, too, has a wall made entirely of glass. Better to lord over the people below you with, Andrew thinks.

He bows politely to Jinguk, standing near the window and doing the very lording Andrew was just thinking of. "Good afternoon."

"It's good to see you again, Andrew," Jinguk says. The words themselves might be warm, but the delivery lacks any sort of emotion. "Have you given any thought to my proposal?"

Straight to the point. Andrew hasn't even taken a seat. To be fair, he doesn't think he wants to take a seat. It's a far cry from the waffling Taein tends to do.

"I have," he says, hovering uncertainly near one of the two chairs in the room.

"Have a seat, and we'll talk." Despite his words, Jinguk doesn't make a move.

Andrew sits, against his better judgement. "I appreciate your offer," he says—calm, practiced, rehearsed, like he's staring down a camera—"but I'm going to have to decline. I'm staying with Fable." His heart jackhammers wildly in his chest, and he has to make a conscious effort to keep his knee from bouncing up and down.

"I suspected as much," Jinguk says. "I hoped you'd be more pragmatic."

Andrew is pragmatic. He's so pragmatic he knows he stands to lose too much if he leaves Fable now. And he's done his research on C Entertainment's artists. He sees two potential paths in that future: being indefinitely shelved or constantly scrutinized for payola.

He gives a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know if you're looking for pragmatism. You might want to try selfishness or greed. I can recommend Mingeun or Haksu." He doubts either of them would take Jinguk's deal, though he knows they'd be tempted in the same way he was.

Jinguk's expression grows stormy. His brow tightens, and he fixes Andrew with a disapproving look. "You must not understand the magnitude of your decision. This is not the sort of opportunity anyone can receive. They are liabilities, more so than you."

But Andrew is a liability too. He champions for himself, enough to butt heads with Mingeun on a wide range of topics. He'll bend and bend and bend—he had to, to debut—but he won't break. There are parts of himself he can't give up on, and that, he thinks, makes him more of a liability than someone like Mingeun. He doesn't say any of that out loud.

"They're people," he says, "not liabilities."

"This is a business, and you are an idol. It is a lesson both you and Taein-ssi have yet to learn." Jinguk's bottom lip curves up in a sneer.

Andrew doesn't know what he has to do with Taein. The side he picked, the battle line he drew in the sand. Something like that.

"It's unfortunate you have yet to come to your senses," Jinguk continues, though he doesn't sound disappointed or resigned in the slightest. He checks the time on his impossibly shiny watch. "My two pm will arrive shortly. I assume you know your way out."

Andrew nods quickly. He recognizes a dismissal when he hears one, and he's only too happy to leave. "If I ever come to my senses, you'll be the first to know."

As he leaves, he can't shake the feeling that he got off too easily, like he willing walked into the jaws of the beast and emerged unscathed. Jinguk appeared to respect Andrew's answer, even if he didn't appear to respect Andrew himself. It'll dog him, he knows, one more enigmatic piece in the puzzle of Jinguk's design.

OCTOBER 2024. Live Haksu reaction to this article.

"What is this?" Haksu asks. He pinches a sheet of paper between two fingers, as if it's poisonous. The glaring headline on the printed article reads, "Zenith Entertainment to Press Charges Against Fable Sasaeng." It's hard to read in the dim parking garage lighting, but Haksu has already committed the important parts to memory.

Taein's gaze, bored and disinterested, flicks over the paper and then Haksu. "It's what you wanted." He steps left in a valiant effort to get to his car.

Haksu mirrors his movements. If he could have snuck into his office to borrow his car keys, he would have. As it is, he has to settle for body-blocking his boss instead. "No, it's not. This is loud and messy. I wanted something discrete."

"Like a hit man," Taein says drily. He makes another unsuccessful attempt to get to the driver's side door of his car.

Haksu shrugs. That would be preferable. He folds the paper in half. Over the past couple of months, he's learned how to play Eunmyeong's game, picked up all her rules and added a few of his own. He's managing so far, by himself. He doesn't need Taein's lawsuit interfering with his carefully arranged house of cards.

"She never assaulted me," he says.

"Not everything is about you."

This is. Haksu knows that for a fact. From the moment he read the headline, he knew the anonymous A was Eunmyeong. No one else followed him home. He doesn't need to be a detective. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could figure that out.

"Think about it, Haksu," Taein says. He rolls his shoulders back. "I'd like to leave work today."

Haksu doesn't budge. "Do you think this will stop her?"

"As much as I'd like to be able to predict the future, I can't say what she will or will not do." He levels a piercing gaze at Haksu. "Don't you know her better?"

There's an accusation in there, if he can be bothered to find it. He's been on more pseudo-dates with her than he'd like to admit. Not enough to have lost count, but enough to recognize certain pillars of their otherwise tenuous relationship. He would know her, if their relationship was more even. As it stands, she's so obsessed with him that they don't talk about much else. Haksu only knows what her last name is because she told his mom. He doesn't know when her birthday is. He doesn't know where she lives or where she grew up or what her favorite food is.

"I don't know her at all," he answers. "Why did it take you this long to press charges?"

"Proper legal cases take time," Taein says, forming each word slowly, as if they cause him physical pain.

Haksu opens his mouth.

"For the second time, Haksu, I don't have any mafia connections you can take advantage of."

Haksu closes his mouth.

Taein continues to speak. "I wouldn't go through with this if there wasn't a reasonable chance the charges would stick. Have faith."

If there's one thing Haksu has, it's faith. He has faith in spades. His faith only falters when it comes to Taein. He should trust his boss more. He doesn't. He steps aside reluctantly, finally giving Taein access to his car.

Taein doesn't even thank him. All he does is pull the driver's side door open and say, "It's not your problem to worry about. Focus on your work, and don't go around giving phone numbers to your group members."

Haksu takes personal offense to that. He tamps it down and responds with his usual decorum instead. "Good night, sajangnim." He doesn't think Taein hears him. The door slams closed as he speaks.

Taein's headlights cast dramatic shadows as Haksu turns tail, shredding the paper as he goes. He doesn't see a problem with giving Mingeun a new phone number—and a new phone. He doesn't approve of everything Mingeun does, but he doesn't have to. He was just doing his duty as a friend.

He pauses as he reaches the fresh evening air, the breeze a welcome respite from the stuffiness of the inside of the garage. Haksu stuffs the shreds of paper into his pockets. Taein can do whatever he wants. Fine. So can he. He wonders if she knows she's going to court soon. It would be courteous to warn her, wouldn't it? He watches Taein's Mazda make a sharp right and nearly bowl over a pedestrian. Then he slips his phone out of his back pocket and writes a quick text.

OCTOBER 2024. Not a sequel to anything. It's more of an update of what Kiyoung is up to and the relevance of The Midas Touch to Fable.

As a collective, The Midas Touch is louder, rowdier, and more energetic than Kiyoung remembers being at their age. The excitement of a newly debuted group is palpable, but not quite contagious. That, and it pales in comparison to the sheer malice simply radiating from Haksu.

"Who pissed you off?" he mutters under his breath, adjusting the mic pack clipped to the back of his waist band more than he should.

"None of your business," Haksu mutters back.

"You'll keep it together?"

"Of course." The words are sharp. He corrects himself a moment later, softening into a more relaxed posture and expression. "I always do." He has the gall to wink at Kiyoung.

It's uncomfortable, watching the ease at which Haksu slides between his true feelings and his perfect image. Kiyoung suppresses a shudder.

Their role today is a supporting one. It's an extremely staged moment in The Midas Touch's extremely staged day. The idea is to present them with the same friendly and relatable boy-next-door image they built as trainees. Kiyoung thinks there are other groups who already occupy that niche, but he's not their creative director or management in any way.

The original plan was for him and Haksu to make a brief appearance to congratulate them on their first music show win. It was supposed to appear spontaneous. That plan fell through last week, when it became very apparent that TMT would be the runner-up to a project group Kiyoung's never hehrd of. Almost all of their music is in English, with the excepption of the song they promoted to win a week's worth of music shows.

So the script was rewritten, and now Kiyoung and Haksu are congratulating them on their debut. Never mind the fact that they already did that, right after TMT's music show debut, back when Fable was promoting their own album. This time is different because Haksu has a cake. He also has strict instructions to give it to Shinji, according to the script Kiyoung read a couple of hours ago. Shinji is, according to the same script, the clumsiest member by far.

He suspects someone is already prepared to clean frosting off the floor.

The long-awaited signal from the couple of supervising producers—a frantic flurry of waving, gesturing, and ushering—finally arrives. The smallest glance sideways tells Kiyoung Haksu is immaculately prepared. He has his cake, and he's turned down the malice to a less overpowering level.

Kiyoung gets the door. He makes it two steps into the room before there are three handheld cameras focused on him—an important part of TMT's relatability. They're greeted with overlapping cries of, "Sunbaenim! You didn't have to!" and "Haksu-hyung, is that for us?"

Kiyoung feels sorry for the editors who have to piece this footage together.

Haksu unceremoniously shoves the cake towards Shinji. The eldest member of the group, Elias, swoops in and intercepts it instead. "He'll drop it," he says, balancing both the cake and his camera.

"That might be the point," Kiyoung concedes quietly.

Though he looks loathe to play along, Elias passes it back to Shinji.

"Congratulations on your debut," Haksu says, an ever-consummate professional.

Then, message delivered, he surprises Kiyoung by making a beeline back towards the door.

Kiyoung grabs him by the wrist. "You can't leave," he hisses under his breath.

"You can come too," Haksu says, tugging his wrist free.

Kiyoung jerks his head towards TMT. "They're filming." A camera is usually the magic switch that gets Haksu to play nice.

Haksu turns around and flashes his usual charismatic smile. "Can you please cut the cameras?" he asks, tone syrupy sweet.

"Deadass?" Arjun asks from behind his own camera. All five of them break into sycophantic laughter.

Kiyoung assumes the cameras are still rolling. "He's not usually like this," he says, making a rather pathetic attempt to salvage the remnants of Haksu's image.

A silent look passes through the group, communicating something Kiyoung can't even begin to imagine.

Elias seems to speak for all of them when he says, "I thought so." He angles his camera back to Haksu. "Anything else for today's TMT Log?"

He's giving them a way out. Kiyoung nearly sags with relief.

Haksu seems to compose himself, straightening up and clasping his hands together. "The Midas Touch are our very precious juniors who recently made their debut. They've worked very hard to get to where they are today. Please make sure to show them lots of love and support!" He rattles off a few lines that are much more fitting of his usual persona.

Elias gives them a little nod, and this time, when Haksu runs for the door, Kiyoung doesn't stop him. He recites his own parting message, spit-balling whatever comes to mind—another congratulatory message, a half-plea to the editors to showcase Haksu in a positive light, permission to visit Fable whenever they'd like.

"I thought you said you could keep it together," Kiyoung says quietly as soon as they're in the hallway again. He suspects most of that footage will be cut. Shinji didn't even drop the cake.

Haksu flicks his bangs out of his eyes. "I did."

They have very different definitions of keeping it together, he thinks, disconnecting his microphone. Whatever is happening in Haksu's head is something he'd never confess to Kiyoung.

"Everything is fine," Haksu says.

Kiyoung suspects this is supposed to be reassuring. He doesn't believe it at all.

[likeadevils]

2007 & 2008 Lover Diaries Transcripts

Apr 8, 2007- Nashville, TN -> Los Angeles, CA

I’m on the plane on the way to L.A. because we’re playing the opening day for the Dodgers tomorrow. Yeah. It’s Easter. I packed for LA and we (mom + I) went to the airport. At the gate, I got recognized by all these girls on a softball team, and this couple whose daughters love my cd … It happens everywhere I got now – at lunch it happened 5 times. So I signed the teams autographs and took pictures. Then they asked me to play a song (not thinking I’d say yes), so Emily, Grant, Ben, and I pulled out our instruments and played ‘Our Song’ and 'Teardrops On My Guitar’ right there in the airport terminal. Ha. It was fun. Now we’re just sitting here on the plane … Doing nothing. It’s exactly a week til the CMT Music Awards, and I am SO nervous.

Dec 30, 2007- Nashville, TN

I apologize for not writing in so long. A lot has happened... Let's see, Christmas. It was great... Austin and Andrea had their minds set on drying the turkey this year, so the day before Christmas eve, my friend and I went to WalMart to buy a turkey fryer. Apparently no one in the store knew where a turkey fryer would be located. So, one hour and 50 million "Will you sign this"'s later, we had a turkey fryer, which we found in the garden section. Of all paces. Frying the turkey was a cute idea. I give mom credit for being creative. They had their little rig set up in the back yard and the 70 barrels of oil... it was great. When it actually came to making edible food, that's where the whole thing fell apart. The turkey actually melted in the turkey fryer. It was disgusting. We had a vegetarian Christmas dinner. Present exchanging was cool. I painted my dad 2 paintings for his office, and mom cried like a baby when we played The Best Day DVD I made for her. I got an iphone from my parents, and I'm so obsessed with it, it's not even funny. It's my soulmate.

May 11, 2008- New York City, NY

Hey … This past week has been amazing and CRAZY! I’ve been in New York City doing all kinds of fashion stuff. I got invited to this event called ‘The Met Gala,’ which is THE party of the year, put on by Vogue. Each designer picks a celebrity to wear one of their new dresses from their new line, and I was picked/invited by Badgley Mischka, this AMAZING team of designers. I’ve loved their dresses for so long, and was SO excited when I got word that I was picked by them. The red carpet for the gala was held on the stone steps up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There was a tent over it, and paparazzi on each side of the stairs. When we got out, the paps started SCREAMING for me. It was crazy. We made our way up the red carpet, posing for everyone. All of the women looked so glamorous in their gowns. We got to the top of the stairs and waited in a long line to greet the hosts of the evening: Anna Wintour of Vogue, George Clooney, Julia Roberts, and Giorgio Armani. Along the sides of the long carpet we were on, models stood as decoration, standing still and wearing gorgeous gowns. Then we went into the cocktail area. I saw every celebrity ever created. Scarlett Johansson, Gisele, Tom Brady, Beyonce, Jon Bon Jovi (who called me over to talk to him), Victoria Beckham, Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, EVERYONE.

(2003 • 2004 • 2005 • 2006 • 2007 & 2008 • 2009 • 2010 • 2011 • 2012 • 2013 • 2014 • 2015 • 2016 & 2017)

[tcawirelespearlcity]

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[spaciousreasoning]

A New Home

Nancy and I slept in until nearly 9 a.m. on Wednesday, her birthday. We immediately began contemplating what to do with everything and how to organize so much in the limited space we were moving into.

We started the day by stopping at Old Crow Coffee, a little drive-up place only a few blocks from our place. It had been on our radar since looking at the map of our neighborhood after Nancy found this place during her visit last December.

After a visit to a nearby Albertson's for a few groceries, we went for breakfast at Todd's Place, a little spot recommended by the barista at Old Crow. Then we headed to the nearby Jerry's Home Improvement Center for a couple trashcans, a paper towel dispenser, and a bath mat for the tub.

Following a brief stop to see Nancy's granddaughter's house—which she moved into after our visit last summer—we went to the local Xfinity store to work out the login details for our new internet service. It's nice to have a decent connection again and not need to work off the hotspot provided by my iPhone.

We spent a little bit of time trying to turn chaos into order before Nancy's daughter and son-in-law stopped by. Kurt mowed the lawn, which was wildly overgrown, and then he and Kalen helped us put the bed back together so Nancy and I did not have to sleep on the mattress on the floor again.

The whole convoy crowd got back together to officially celebrate Nancy's birthday at Roaring Rapids Pizza Company, located just across the Willamette River in Eugene. We sat outside, enjoying the cool weather and the view of the river. We were also entertained by a middle school jazz band that was there for their own celebration.

Once we got home, Nancy and I watched another episode of "Midsomer Murder" on the laptop before turning in for the night. Thursday morning we were up early, making coffee with the supplies and instruments we had dug out of boxes. Then we spent most of the rainy and cool day, still in our PJs, putting the kitchen and living room in order, stopping to lunch on some of the Pad Thai leftovers from Tuesday night.

After a shower and brief nap we did a little more work, including setting up my 27-inch Mac desktop in the living room to provide better viewing of streaming entertainment until we can buy a new television to replace the old one we donated to the Assistance League before leaving.

We briefly looked at new TV models at Costco after a bland dinner at a Mexican restaurant in Springfield. Eugene's only Costco and Trader Joe's are just a few minutes from each other along Coburg Road, and we hit both for more supplies, including the ingredients for our favorite breakfast of oatmeal with raisins and walnuts.

[n0toverit]

just found out when new iphone release! i will get the pink one also found out that i’m pretty sure nowhere sells the model i have anymore new like i searched it and i’m pretty sure every result was used or refurbished :( she’s a good phone she just gets really hot and freezes and restarts when she wants and boots me out of apps and won’t let me do anything while it’s charging or while on a call and gets concerning my hot and will just go black screen and won’t type or click on things sometimes or stay charged or show me the real battery percentage after she gets any lower than 20% and only has 79% battery capacity and she’s bad :( my phone had 36% before i went to my lunch and before that i was on it for like 20 mins the whole rest of the day before that bc job is no phones, sad phone

[phantasmaplumes]

Welcome to Cyber Cafe Chats with Plumes! Today's Brew: USB Condoms and Zero Day Vulnerabilities a plenty!

Hello everyone!

It's your new favorite System Admin here with a few digestable updates on security vulnerabilities on things you care about; that's right, it's time for a new section:

Plumes' Cyber Cafe Chats

Now, you're probably wondering what my Cyber Cafe Chats are all about. Good question! Honestly, I'm stilly defining it, but it's essentially breaking down the complicated news of the world of Cybersecurity and more in an easy, digestable format that's best enjoyed with your favorite blends and a steller vibe. So relax, get something warm to power through your Monday with, and let's chat.

Why do I keep hearing about "USB Condoms?"

If you've been watching the news lately, you've probably heard about "Juice Jacking" issues on the rise, but who would be stealing your precious Apple Juice? Well, it's not that different from your Grade School bully taking advantage of you, to be entirely honest. Just instead of something cool and delicious, it's your precious data or resources, which may or may not be more important to you. Personally, I prefer the white grape flavored profile data.

"Juice Jacking" refers to the the practice in which a malicious actors compromise a USB terminal, in this case the power terminals within coffee shops, airports, and other such public charging stations, to load malware onto your charging device. You see, your USB cable has two pairs of wires: one that handles power, and another that handles data; hackers use that data pair in order to install things like cryptominers, keyloggers, and sniffers alike to find what all you have on your device, and in some cases, extract it onto a store where they can access it later. There's no such thing as a free lunch, after all.

So, in order to protect yourself, you could get a USB Data Blocker such as the one linked, AKA a USB Condom. These specialized USB adapters have the data lines severed within them, and akin to their latex counterpart, block the flow of data from a potentially infected USB cord and hub from getting to your system.

That said, you can also employ the tried and true method of carrying your own charging equipment. If you use your own charging brick and USB to plug into one of these public charging stations, NOTHING can get across the AC/DC powerline to infect your machine. Or, if you're so on the go that sitting at a public charging station won't work for your busy lifestyle, a portable power bank such as the one listed here may suit all your needs. With some power banks even being able to charge multiple devices at once multiple times, you may find yourself even forgetting the brick and USB at home and not missing it whatsoever.

iOS Webkit Compromises, Android Vulnerabilities, and Chrome Memory Exploitations, OH MY

Now, before I wrap up our first Cyber Cafe Chat, I would like to bring your attention to a series of Zero Day Vulnerabilites that have been announced as of this past week, as well as asking the question: When is the last time you updated your device?

Zero Day Vulnerabilities, for those not in the know, are issues that were previously unknown to the provider that don't have a working fix yet; they've only been disclosed. Most of which receive patches that mitigate the damage, but until a fix is created and is provided to the public, hackers can exploit users who don't keep their devices up to date, and just such a thing has happened on our mobile world. You see, recently a pair of zero-day vulnerabilities were discovered on iOS devices listed below:

iPhone 8 and later,

iPad Pro (all models),

iPad Air 3rd generation and later,

iPad 5th generation and later,

iPad mini 5th generation and later,

and Macs running macOS Ventura.

These vulnerabilities are initiated by sending would-be victims text messages or emails with links that lead to a compromised website, in which either Chrome or WebKit vulnerabilities would be loaded based on the Operating System of the device. This vulnerability has already been patched out on Chrome as of October 2022, but has recently seen new life in the iOS sphere. That said, please take this opportunity to make sure your devices are up to date.

For iOS, that would be 16.4.1 – released on April 7th, 2023, while for macOS, that would be 13.3.1 also released on the 7th.

For Android, that would either be the March or April Update for Android 13, depending on your model. Google Pixel phones have yet to receive the April update, for example.

Additionally, a new zero day vulnerability was discovered within Chrome’s JavaScript engine, in which a threat actor could trigger browser crashes by memory exploitation as well as arbitrarily running code on infected devices. While the main targets identified in the attack thus far are high-risk individuals like politicians, journalists and more, we can’t be too cautious considering the clientele we work with, and the risk spyware would have on our machines.

Google has recently released a patch to fix this issue however, so I’d like to ask that you take a few minutes to update Chrome. Shouldn't take you more than a few minutes, so feel free to use that time to get some caffiene in you; you know your boy is about to do the same after writing all this out.

Of course, if you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to let me know!

It's honestly been an absolute pleasure writing this up for everyone, and I hope that you'll be able to use some of the information provided to protect yourself and others. And, if you liked this and want more easily digestable cyber information, I'd appreciate the follow! Still new to this whole blogging thing, so feel free to let me know how I can make this better for you as well! Until next time everyone...

I'll see you in the stars soon~!

[cm-shorts]

(14) Refusing to play the standard game

Last Wednesday, like every Christmas season, four physics postdocs - including me - were invited for lunch by the long-retired professor who hosted our diploma and PhD projects many decades ago. Traditionally we meet in a Greek restaurant close to our former university institute in Erlangen, and while this location is within biking distance for the professor and myself, the others are coming by car from their more remote home towns.

I arrived first, as usual, but immediately after I had locked my bike in front of the restaurant I saw a black Tesla gliding noiselessly into the car parking lot, with somebody waving hands behind the wind shields. This data point, combined with the Munich license plate of the vehicle, strongly and correctly suggested that it had to be S.D., one of the mentioned postdocs who made his career within a large German semiconductor manufacturer by reverse-engineering other company's high-tech products, such as the camera of the latest iPhone. The black Tesla, as it later turned out, was only one of two similar models that he owns.

Actually, our meeting had to be postponed a bit this year, not least because S.D. had caught a cold during a recent trip to Rome. Myself, even without traveling around, also managed to get infected by some nasty biological thingy which initially revealed itself by a mild caughing and headache, but quickly ignited in my body a strange fever that kept fluctuating wildly between 36 and over 40 degrees within minutes. On top of that, the professor, after having himself MRT scanned for some reason (always a bad idea!) had to undergo an emergency surgery. Luckily, all these little disturbances faded away already a few days after Christmas, and so finally we all could meet before the new year broke.

Although social events, in general, are not really something I'm looking forward to, these alumni meetings often turn into quite interesting private history lessons: While I can hardly remember what happened last week, my colleagues seem to have amazingly detailed memories of their entire life. Using this super-power, they keep telling funny stories from our shared time at the semiconductor research institute, stories that occasionally involve myself but which I have long forgotten.

But alumni meetings can also be quite brutal in revealing how people's life styles diverge over time.

None of the postdocs on the table made it to a professor, but one of them, S.M., could early on secure a permanent position in our university. I know him particularly well, because we used to play in the same Jazz band for a while. In contrast to the other two postdocs, we also share the distinctive property of having no children. Without much traveling around, S.M. is living with his partner on a kind of farm with several horses and many other animals. These animals, just like family members, are producing never-ending story lines by - well - getting sick at some point, dying, and being replaced with new animals. It became clear to me now that the amount of events worth reporting in an alumni meeting increases in proportion with one's 'family' size. Singles, like myself, can have rich social bonds with other people, but it would be unnatural to talk about these acquaintances if they are neither family members nor somehow related to the alumni group.

S.D., the one with the two Teslas, does have a family and really likes to travel. Following a multi-year plan, he is ticking off all the major capitals of Europe one by one, the most recent having been Rome just a few days ago. On top of being a technology nerd, he is well versed in the art of saving taxes and really knows how to get out the maximum financial benefit from all his actions. It turned out that these kinds of topics are extremely useful for keeping a conversation going. But seen from the other side, those topics are also very effective in marginalizing people like me, who have zero interest in finance.

The other postdoc, P.K., is living in California, Palo Alto, and is working there for a well-known tech company. He has a huge 4-generation family and is living with his wife in a rental house that costs him about 5000 dollars every month, which is almost 10 times more than I pay for my rental apartment.

At some point during the meeting, the professor asked the unavoidable question: 'And, Claus, how is your life going ?'

I did not want to raise the others eyebrows by talking about my actual current interests, like metaphysical idealism and the nature of consciousness - these are not topics that can be talked about casually. And so I answered truthfully that I am sitting every day in front of my PC and try to extract some interesting abstract patterns out of measured or simulated data, so that I can write as much papers as possible about these patterns, in order to eventually get my next grant from the German Research Foundation, so that I can continue sitting in front of my PC ...

The professor replied something along those lines: 'I see. Can you imagine how different your life would have unfolded if you had been offered the professorship in the Technical University of Berlin, back then when you were on position 2 of 68 applicants ? When I remember correctly, the top applicant had been offered also another attractive position and could have easily cleared the way for you …'

I had to agree that my life would have taken a very different course, had I become a professor for semiconductor nanostructures in Berlin. Yet, being a professor entails many administrative tasks that I would despise, and so maybe it was a good thing that I remained a postdoc.

This basically ended my contribution to the conversation, but back home I pondered how very simple my life is, compared to other people with a similar educational background. Except my mother, I have no family members or animals to worry about, no houses and cars to maintain, no finances to optimize, no subordinates to manage, no travels to plan, no career to advance.

It seems I have refused to play the standard game.

(Erlangen, December 31, 2022)

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Summer Nights (3)

A/N: INDEX

Warnings: alcohol, language, sexual alludes, and... that’s it??

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee @bforbroadway @okaydraco

So her name was Y/N.

Draco couldn't help himself but wonder about her for the past few days, after their encounter in the restaurant. As he thought more and more of her, he decided she was more of a changeable person, judging on what he had learned about her; timid and coy one day in the lobby when he first arrived, and plainly confident on another when she approached him to return his fucking wand.

And did she believe in that fictive tale about him playing a magician? Did she sense his sudden abashment when she started to question him on the subject?

He blamed himself for the whole situation, which could have never happened if he only were more careful. He assumed he had lost the wand when his mother furiously dragged him back to his hotel room from the bar he had stopped by for a while. Perhaps, it was when he had handed the receptionist, Y/N, the letter, and it just dropped out of his pocket as he was taking an envelope out.

Fortunately for him, it found its way back. So he didn't have to trouble his head with that now, right?

One issue, however, stuck to his thoughts and vividly came back every time he glanced at his hand, only to see blurry words written with a hard-to-efface ink. Of course, by none other than Y/N.

A few days back, she had scribbled her name and a number on his palm, and since then, he tried to figure out what it was for. He knew he couldn't walk out to the city and stop people in the middle of the pavement to ask for an explanation for the note because it would be as irrational and bizarre as it sounds. The second thought was to ask his mother for an additional conjecture about that by sending an owl. But then he quickly remembered, he didn't have access to any of owls here and -- so and so -- he didn't know the address Narcissa was staying at.

So both options were excluded.

Soon enough, however, the situation cropped up. Someday around six in the morning, still sound asleep and immersed in the dreams, the strange, alarming sound rang up in his bedroom, echoing off the walls and waking half of the death of him as he heard it. He flopped off his bed with the sheets falling along with him, and he began looking for the source of the noise. Then he noticed: a white handset and a set of ten digits next to it; he picked it up -- it was only a hotel checking up if he needed anything.

From then on, everything lined up and made a perfectly logical sense in his head -- it was a muggle device to communicate with each other. If you were desperate enough not to meet up with somebody in the real-life, you were likely to click nine digits and either meet with the receiver's voice or voicemail on the other side. So here was a purpose of the number.

Draco also discovered these things were so-called phones. And they were sold in various forms and types like the models of brooms in the Wizarding World -- from less to most exclusive ones. Little did his consciousness helped him, but after an hour, he was already out in the city and walking next to the shops' exhibitions and searching for an electronics store to buy himself one of those.

Why did he want to buy the phone? He could lie and say that it was only in case of emergency. But admitting truthfully to himself, he felt a nagging curiosity about those devices and wanted to understand this part of the muggle world. And something, more of a hunch than reasoning, told him that he soon might be needing one of those.

Later that day, after wandering for almost an hour and stepping into some cafeteria for lunch, he was finally holding a fucking iPhone in his hand. It had a lot of fancy shining buttons and a small, black partly-bitten apple on the back, and some kind of virtual assistant (at least that's what he had heard from a salesman) Siri with a very posh British accent. Having been advised to purchase it, Draco did so even without a second thought.

He paid for it with some muggle money his mother provided him before her departure, and walked out of the store, having it packed in a nice paper bag with a receipt and a SIM card. He decided on opening it when he reaches his room, and meanwhile, look around the area for some entertainment or something in those terms, to preoccupy himself.

Actually, Draco hadn't been too much in foreign countries, and hauling him out to Muggle London was a miracle, much more to Muggle Paris. He could find a similarity, but it was much different here -- cars honking at each other at the traffic jam; countless shops with clothes; restaurants with delicious food; people babbling at one another in French but also in Italian and German, and English. It was chaotic; it was loud, and he had to watch his feet in order to not trip over by someone else.

Draco felt lost in that mess. Random people encouraging him to visit the shops he would never intend to drop by, strangers pushing him in a rush and mumbling indistinct 'Sorry' for stepping on his shoes, some even too bothered to even look at him. Partly, he wished he had never listened to Narcissa and instead spending time with Thoe, Blaise, or whosoever and talking about irrelevant stuff like the score of the last Quiddich match (Banchory Bangers against Falmouth Falcons) or about the latest affairs with the Ministry of Magic.

And what was he even doing here?

In mere seconds, he decided on changing a route back again to the hotel instead of meandering aimlessly and optimistically, waiting for some godsend to find.

What he wasn't, however, considering was actually finding some godsend in front of the revolving doors of the hotel building.

Yet again, as if some supernatural powers brought them to the same place every time, he was standing on the opposite side of the door where Y/N. It was the late afternoon, so instead of wearing the usual white shirt in the composition of black jeans, she had a green top and striped, yellow shorts with a small watch on her wrist.

She was turned, slightly to the side, so it was her profile he saw as she waved probably at one of her friends, smiling broadly. Draco never really paid much attention to the girl, especially to her looks, but now as his eyes roamed over her standing figure in those a little too revealing clothes, he felt a gulp forming in his throat. Her hair was falling on her shoulders, the beam plastered to her face, and she seemed to be a radiating sphere of positivity.

For the last time, she blew her friend a kiss, and then she was looking at him, infinitely shocked at the sight of him behind the window, staring at her. Draco blinked, snatching out of thoughts.

Y/N made her way out, gripping her big handbag and throwing it hastily on the shoulder and a glowing grin waving over her face again. "Nice to see you again," she said. "I thought you would call."

He furrowed his brows, detecting the faint trace of hope in her voice and feeling his heart take up on the speed. "Well... I was just about to. In the room. I bought a phone..." He lifted the sack in his hand. "...and was about to dial your number."

"Really?" she asked, slightly startled and happy at the same time. She brushed some of her hair behind the ear. "Didn't you have the phone?"

"I left it at home." It was the quickest lie he could conceive. He playfully rolled his eyes, indicating the slight amusement at his alleged absentmindedness. "Just heading back from the shop."

She laughed at that. "Right." Suddenly, her cheeks were covered in a light scarlet, and she dropped her gaze at her feet for three seconds, as if she was about to share something very, very secretive with him. Then she was eyeing him again. "Listen... I've just ended a shift. Maybe you would like to go somewhere? I promised I'll show you around the most interesting spots. Are you up to that?"

Draco contemplated, taking in a small breath. Some part of him really lingered to give it a shot and go out with her, seeing where it carries them, as spontaneous as it was. It wasn't a date, and she was practically a stranger, but... what kind of a stranger! A quiet voice in his head told him this was what kept him away from the idea; disclosing his doubts -- her sparkling with joy eyes and the effect she had on him. A mere fact of him pondering the question was pure evidence it mattered to him, and he definitely tried to kick in with a good impression.  

That left him with no more answer than: "Yeah, sure."

For some reason, Y/N let out a sigh of relief and relaxed a little, looking as if she was about to hear bad news but heard the contrary instead. "Great!" she exclaimed cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, she realized, as soon as she spoke up because the embarrassment welled up on her face. Yet another blush brushed her cheeks, and she chuckled at herself. "Sorry. Bad habits from the reception."

Now it was his turn to chuckle. He liked it, actually, but obviously wasn't going to say that out loud. "Don't mind," he assured her. "Shall we--"

"Before we do," Y/N cut him in, already guessing the upcoming rest of the sentence. "I suggest you leave that stuff..." She pointed her finger at the bag he was carrying. "...in the room. We might be wandering some hours in the heat. So it might not be the best idea."

Draco nodded, silently agreeing with her pertinent advice. "I'll meet you downstairs in... five minutes, then."

She shifted a little, still grinning like a maniac and watching him with sparkling eyes. "Okay," she said, as Draco was making to walk past her, feeling the strangest hint of excitement creeping in his chest. As he was nearing the doorway, he heard her shouting behind his back, "I'll be waiting here!" And the tiniest of his rare smiles formed on his lips.

XOXOXOXO

"So tell me something about yourself, Draco." Y/N looked at him, a light of interest entering her eyes.

As decided, they had met up a few minutes later in front of the entrance to the hotel and then took on the route. Draco had asked her about any potential propositions of where there should go, to which Y/N only smiled mysteriously and said it was a surprise.

So now they were walking hand-in-hand, taking almost the same pace as they strolled in the rhythm of the roads. The buzz still could be heard, and people prattling loudly, but this time -- as Draco noted -- instead of crowding in the center of the noise, Y/N led him through some stealthy alleys only a real dweller could know about. There were still laughs and talks coming, but much quieter.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, not quite comprehending how he should answer her question. He had been in some relationships, some successful and some not, but no one had really paid much interest in him. Not really him.

"Uh, you know. Where do you hail from, what are your hobbies, why did you come to France? Whatever you want, actually." Y/N chortled, offering him a small smile of encouragement. The sun rays were smoothly emphasizing her beauty; skin glistening under the daily light. Draco couldn't help himself but think of how her hands would feel on his shoulders and--

'Focus Draco,' he scolded himself for drifting far, far away with his imagination.

"Well," he started. "I'm from England, what you can guess by my accent. I play piano, learned Italian and Spanish, and...you know, basic stuff." He omitted the part he was a captain of his Quidditch team at school for almost five years which was his biggest pride. "My mother forced me to come here."

"Oh," Y/N seemed to be a little surprised by his confession because she made a fish-like face. "Didn't you want to come?"

"Not quite," Draco admitted truthfully. Before she was able to ask him for a reason for that, he outstripped her. "Had a tough time lately. My friend...died."

Y/N stared at him, mouth slightly agape, and in an instant, her expression turned from cheerful to a regretful one. "I'm sorry," she said, massive uncomfortableness visible on her face.

He shrugged, making his faultless poker face to the game as if it didn't affect him at all -- blank and uncaring. But it hit him. Always did. He didn't like to talk about his post-war experience; even recalling it in his mind was torture.

'If she only knew,' Draco thought. 'She wouldn't be so eager to get acquainted.'

Before he could pay off with as much interest as she did to him, Y/N was gesturing excitedly to the name on the corner of the building, located right next to the extensive, artificial beach with impeccably clean water. There were quite a few people enjoying themselves and sitting on the warm sand, but not throng as Draco could expect from a place like that. "Here we are!"

Not only the sand, but a minibar was there as well: a small deckhouse in the midway of the shore and pavement; a few wooden stools; and the bartender who was shaking a cocktail mixer in his hands.

Shortly after, however, the man behind the counter noticed them approaching. He shot Draco a brief look, and then his gaze landed straight at Y/N, who also perceived him glancing at her. He seemed to be happy at the sight of her, and his eyes swept momentarily over her figure, perhaps identifying if it really was a person he thought it was, and then he gestured for her to come closer. Y/N seized Draco's forearm, tugging him to come along with her, and Draco, left without any other choices, followed.

Y/N began speaking something French with him, and he heatedly answered her back in a sort of enthusiastic voice. Apparently, they must have known each other because, after seconds, they started joking around, laughing, and patting each others' shoulders like old friends. It took quite a moment, but the bartender eventually focused his attention on Draco, who was standing next to Y/N and was trying to make any sense out of the conservation. The man asked something, curiously arching his brow yet again at Y/N, who flushed suddenly. Clearly flustered with his question, she playfully smacked him at the top of his head and turned to face Draco.

"Sorry for that," she said, putting both of her elbows on the countertop and making a slight pout of guiltiness. "It's just an old friend of mine. I used to come here a lot in the past, so we know each other... pretty well, I guess."

That arose Draco's curiosity, and he didn't miss a chance to ask her. "Don't you come here anymore?"

"No." The readiness of this reply surprised him a little bit. She bit her lip and let her eyes drift at her shoes, which -- Draco noticed -- was her typical reaction when she was nervous. "I... I used this place to meet up with my boyfriend. My father didn't approve of our relationship -- he assumed there was something iffy about him and that he had bad intentions." Chuckling dryly, she tried to cover up her emotions, though the sadness was hitched to her voice. "He was right. He used me and then dumped me, saying it meant nothing."

Although he felt an urge to hug her, he held it back and stared at her, not really knowing what to say. Should he console her by telling her the man was a pig and she clearly deserved better? Or should he keep silent, only proving himself to be a good listener? It was very confusing for him to be around girls who cry and complain and expect reassurance in their words. He witnessed Pansy weeping a lot of times, but she was the one to instruct him what to do by throwing herself at him and lingering in the embrace. But Y/N was new to him, and it was no easy way to find out what she wanted him to say.

"Sucks," he uttered under his breath before the awareness kicked in.  

What the fuck, you dolt?! Is it how you want to comfort her?

Fortunately, Y/N didn't receive his words as critically as he because her eyes lighted up, and she giggled softly. "Yeah... But I learned from that. I try to be warier now."

The bartender poked her suddenly on the shoulder, making some mumbling and incomprehensible sound. Y/N nodded and slightly tilted her head to have a better view of Draco. "Jean asks if you want a drink. He recommends Brave Bull. Brags that he can do the best one in the country."

"Mhm... Let it be it," he agreed, giving up on his usual liquor and dipping into more muggle-like specials. He attempted to force a smile on the lips, trying to give it more of a tone of a request than a demand.

She reciprocated the gesture, and then she turned to her friend, leaning casually against the bar and expertly translating the conversation. He only nodded, smiling, and grabbed the nearest bottle of some booze to pour the contents into the glass along with some other ingredients.

"Here you go," the bartender, Jean, tried out his amateur English, but remnants of French accent could be heard. He laid two glasses of alcohol -- one fiercely brown; the other one, blue with a cocktail umbrella inside -- on the countertop and grinned. Before Draco could take out some cash to pay, Jean's voice echoed again, still with a little stammering accent. "Free!"

Y/N and Draco made their way to a nearby bench, both calmly sipping their drinks and looking at the horizon as the sun set down, disappearing out of your sight. It was strange for Draco how comfortable he felt in her presence; the comfort he hadn't experienced for years in anyone's company. Although he was aware you had met a few days ago, something in your relationship gave him enough space to be himself. And he liked it.

Draco chanced to glance at Y/N, and she was already looking.

"I like coming here," she started hastily, as to conceal she was staring. "It's calming."

As an excuse to tear their eye contact, Draco scanned the beach again, and he could definitely get her point. The place was nothing but charming. "Agree."

"You know... It was my inspirational area when I drew. I first found it when I got into a huge fight with my father. Since then, I have used it as an escape from the outer world. It was a mistake that I shared it with my ex, but... you seem to be a proper person."

Draco didn't miss the compliment, and a barely visible blush danced on his cheeks. He felt his pulse speeds up, heart pounding at the sudden realization of their proximity. "You drew? Is it past tense?"

"Yes." Y/N nodded swiftly, grunting. "I love to capture the moments I find beauty in: people, places, specific objects. I even aspired to go to art studies. But..." She exhaled deeply, preparing herself to continue. "...they are too costly. My father says so... I don't blame him; I know he tries. But I stopped myself from having hopes."

Draco listened, and the pity churned his stomach. Taking a nip of his drink, an idea popped up in his head. "Do you have those drafts?"

"Right now?" Y/N asked, shocked, to which Draco responded only with a short nod.  "Yes, I usually carry them --er-- in my bag. I had to throw them away... but I just couldn't."

"Can I see?"

Surprisingly, for the first time, as Draco saw, reluctance appeared on her face. She deflated, apparently battling with doubts. "Ummm... Yes." And then she slipped her hand into her motley bag, rummaging intensely. After mere seconds, she finally found what she was looking for -- the set of papers bound neatly around by a fine twine and clip, to the additional perseverance.

Y/N passed him, what seemed to be many hours of her solid work, and he examined them closely. What Draco could say is that he wasn't an expert in the field, but he unconditionally believed that those sketches required a lot of talent to draw as precise as they were. He was in awe, really -- the accurate contours given the best preciseness; the attention paid even to the smallest details; gradings made with soft touches of a pencil. The drawings presented a lot: random people walking in a rush, natural landscapes, some sculptures lined up in front of a building, even the least relevant objects like shoes or an apple. That, of course, didn't discourage Draco from watching further -- he flipped the pages, soundlessly, and a little too fascinated to utter a thing.

"And what do you think?" asked Y/N, nervously tapping her fingers on her thigh and (unnecessarily) preparing herself for a flow of criticism. Her gaze darted between Draco's face and the sketches.

"I... think you have a gift," he complimented her, weighing the great truth in his words.

"Really?" Y/N asked him in disbelief, blushing profusely. "Thanks! But --er-- you can take them if you want. It'd be easier for me to know I give them in the good hands than throwing them away."

The 'good hands' comment flattered Draco, and he felt almost honored to accept the offer. "Yes. Thank you." He buried the works deeply in his pocket.

He would definitely make good use of those. He had a plan.

XOXOXO

A/N: Okay, hi everyone! It was supposed to be longer, but I decided to divide it into more chapters with less word count instead. Nothing is happening yet, but you can already feel some tension, right? :D The next chapter is going to be super, super short. So I might be posting it within two days or so??? Idk yet, and it’s not a promise because I have a nice surprise (spoiler! a new one-shot) coming and a few requests to answer, so it might also take a moment. But please, stick with me :D If anyone wants to appear on the tag list, write in comments, DM, or wheresoever!

[gryffindorcls]

The Purr-fect Gift

Summary: Years after the reveal and the start of their relationship, Marinette and Adrien move in together. To her dismay, Adrien has become distant and quiet after the move. Marinette just wants things to return to normal, but Adrien has a surprise for her that will change their lives forever.

Length: 2,894 words This is my Secret Santa present for @luminousinthedark from the APS server! You asked for fluff and romance so cheesy that it would make Plagg question his life choices, so I tried to think of the most romantic thing that could possibly happen between these two dorks. Don't let the beginning fool you....the end is **very fluffy**. I hope you enjoy it!  Happy Holidays! :D (A shout-out to my super awesome beta @misscongenialityofmlb for taking a look at this!) — AO3

Fanfiction

Marinette checked the time on her phone for the thousandth time that day, cringed at the numbers on the screen, and repocketed the device. She stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to see over the throngs of people blocking her view of the register. Crossing her arms, she began tapping her foot on the hard tiled floor.

“Girl, chill.” Alya rested her hand on her shoulder. “We’re almost to the front. I pre-ordered the new iPhone for Nino, so once we get there, we should be done pretty quickly.”

“Sorry,” Marinette mumbled, taking a peek at her phone screen again.

“You can go if you need to. I really don’t mind waiting by myself.”

“What! No! I promised that I would wait with you. I’m fine.”

Crossing her arms, Alya shot her a disbelieving look. “Uh-huh, and I’m the Queen of England. What’s going on with you today?”

“What do you mean?” Marinette straightened her posture and did her best to smile.

Alya shook her head “I haven’t seen you this jittery in years.”

“Jittery? Me? Pshh, no!” Giving up the ruse, she slumped and groaned. “Is it really that noticeable?”

“Yes, it is. Now spill! What’s going on?”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe you can start with why your eyes have been glued to your phone all morning.”

She shoved her phone into her pocket, feeling a rush of heat to her cheeks. “I’m just a little anxious about getting to lunch with Adrien and Nino on time.”

“Since when are you concerned about being on time? I think the boys know by now that Miss High-Fashion has a tendency to be fashionably late.” Alya put a hand on her arm. “What’s really going on?”

“I don’t even know how to put this. I...I’m worried about my relationship with Adrien.” Marinette buried her face in her hands. “And I don’t know what to do.”

A fire ignited behind Alya’s eyes. “Did he do something to you? Because if he did-”

Marinette waved her hands in front of her. “No! No, it’s nothing like that! It’s just that he’s been a little, what’s the word, distant?”

“How so?”

“Ever since we moved in together he’s barely been home, and right before he left two weeks ago he canceled our plans to decorate our Christmas tree. He was gone all day, and he got home an hour before he had to leave for the airport.”

“Ahh, I see.”

“Yeah, and even though he got back yesterday, I haven’t seen him yet. When he suggested that we all meet up for lunch today, I was kind of hoping that it meant that maybe things would go back to normal.” She threw her hands into the air. “I don’t know. Alya, help me!”

Alya tapped her chin. “Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“I would, but he’s never around! I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Maybe we’re moving too fast, and it’s scaring him. Or maybe he’s still overwhelmed about the whole...well, you know...reason why we don’t have to transform every day and fight Akumas anymore.”

“I doubt that. He loves you so much. You’d have to be blind to miss it.”

“He’s changed.”

“Marinette, listen to me.” Alya grabbed her shoulders. “If he’s acting weird, it probably has nothing to do with how he feels about you. That boy has been in love with you for years. Are you forgetting that this is the same human you gave a constipation prescription to when we were fourteen? And then he filled it without questioning why you needed it. You weren’t even dating yet, and he was willing to do anything to make you happy.”

“But-”

“No, buts! He loves you. He’s your ‘kitty’ and you’re ‘his lady’. You two are made for each other.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Girl, the sheer number of pictures that I have on the Ladyblog of Chat Noir looking at Ladybug while she’s not looking should be proof enough.” Alya leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper. “And if that doesn’t help, I have a whole folder on my phone of pictures where he’s looking at you outside of the mask.”

“He did once tell me that it was always going to be us against the world.” Marinette shrugged. “Maybe I’m overthinking it.”

Before Alya could answer, Marinette’s phone went off several times in her pocket. She pulled it out, tapped on the notification, and read the text in her inbox.

Adrien: [11:16] Hey there, beautiful.

Adrien: [11:16] Something came up, I can’t make lunch today.

Adrien: [11:16] Sorry

Adrien: [11:17] :(

Her heart dropped. She sighed before typing out a short response.

Marinette: [11:17] no worries

Marinette: [11:17] see you later! <3

“What’s up?” Alya asked, “Are the boys already at the restaurant? Tell them we’ll be there in like thirty minutes. There are only ten people in front of us now.”

Shaking her head, she tried not to cry. “No, Adrien can’t make lunch. He’s just going to meet us back at the apartment later tonight.”

“Hold on." Alya whipped out her phone. "Let me text Nino.”

Marinette hugged herself. The air around her was cold, and she felt so small and alone. How could this be happening to her? Before they moved in together, everything had been fine with her relationship? What changed? Why now? What was she doing wrong?

“So, I texted Nino, and he’s with Adrien. Neither of them will be joining us for lunch.” Alya pulled her into a hug. “But everything is going to be okay. Trust me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“No.” Marinette shook her head. “At least not on purpose.”

“Look, you’re my best friend, and I propose that we have a girls’ day before we meet up with the boys later.” A smile lit up her face. “How would you feel about getting our nails done after the two of us grab a quick lunch?”

Marinette’s sadness was quickly replaced with confusion. “Our nails? At a salon? Since when do we pay for manicures?”

“Since today! So, what do you say?”

She didn’t want to spend another day sulking in her apartment. Perhaps a day out would do her some good.

“I guess that could be fun?” Marinette shrugged. “Just as long as we can grab some cookies for Tikki before we go. She’s been asleep in my bag all morning.”

“Yes!” Alya threw a celebratory fist into the air. “Works for me! Trixx needs some food, too. I’m sure he’d appreciate having something to eat while we get pampered.”

“A little pampering sounds nice.” Marinette looked down at her nails. “Maybe something festive? A bright red? Or sparkles?”

“Yes! That’s the spirit.” Alya slung her arm over her shoulder. “And maybe while we’re at it, we could get our hair and make-up done, too!”

“Wow, nails, hair, and make-up? This is starting to sound like we’re getting ready for a photoshoot, not a night in.”

“Why should model boy have all the fun? Besides, I’m sure he’d love to see you all ‘dolled-up’.”

Marinette laughed and did her best to imagine the smile on Adrien’s face when he finally saw her later that evening.

***

To her delight, Adrien did smile when she walked into their apartment, but it was quickly overshadowed by the hasty hello and peck to the cheek that he gave her before rushing off to the living room. Feeling her heart sink, she hung her coat on a hook and made her way to the couch.

The plan was to decorate their tree with Alya and Nino, but everything that could go wrong went wrong. The lights shorted out when they plugged them in, and at least twelve ornaments shattered when she attempted to hang them.

Adrien didn’t say a word as he cleaned up each little mess she made. He merely smiled and grabbed another ornament for her to put onto the tree. As the night wore on, he moved further and further away and made little to no eye contact with her. He even disappeared into their bedroom several different times.

Just when she thought the universe couldn’t possibly make her day any worse, Marinette managed to burn a batch of Christmas cookies that she’d put in the oven for them to enjoy when they were done decorating.

When the smoke alarm finally stopped beeping and the panic in the kitchen had subsided, Marinette reached her breaking point. How was she supposed to convince Adrien to keep living with her if she kept messing everything up?

Sure the broken ornaments were on par with her usual clumsiness, but burnt cookies? She was a baker’s daughter! Burning cookies was something that just didn’t happen to her anymore.

Unable to hold back her tears any longer, Marinette bolted from the kitchen, ran into the bedroom, and slammed the door behind her. After unceremoniously flopping facefirst onto the bed, she sobbed into a pillow, not caring about ruining her professionally-done make-up.

She’d tried so hard to make tonight perfect, but of course, she wasn’t even capable of making it okay. Even after she’d calmed down a little, Marinette cringed at the idea of rejoining the group. She wasn’t ready to see the look of disappointment on her boyfriend’s face.

If he didn't before, he definitely regretted asking her to move in with him now.

A knock at the door sent her flying towards the tissue box on her nightstand. There was no way she was letting anyone see her like this. Especially not…

“Hey, Marinette?” Adrien...of course, it was Adrien. “Can I come in?”

His voice sounded so unsure, and it immediately broke down her resolve. “Sure.”

She hastily wiped her hands at her face as the knob turned and the door slowly creaked open. Adrien poked his head in, locked eyes with her, rushed to her side, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Oh, love.” His hand rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Please tell me what’s wrong. What can I do to make it better? Is it the cookies? Because we can just make a new batch. It’s okay.”

“Everything.” The floodgates opened, and Marinette buried her face into his chest, sobs racking her body once again. “I messed everything up! I know that you probably regret moving in together, and I was hoping that I could change your mind tonight, but I failed.”

Adrien pulled away, his eyes filled with concern. “Marinette, what are you talking about?”

“Y-you’ve been avoiding me, and I get that this was a big step and that you might not have been ready…”

He cut her off. “What? Marinette, no! Moving in with you was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. What made you think something like that?”

“Well, I barely saw you before you left, and you keep making excuses to not hang out or be in the apartment. Please don’t hide how you feel from me.” She sniffled. “It’ll hurt, but I’ll be okay.”

“Marinette…” He grabbed her shoulders and shook his head. “I love living with you.”

“Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I just need to hear the truth.”

“But I am telling you the truth. I don’t regret any part of our relationship. If anything, you’re the reason I’ve made it through all of this insanity the past few years. I’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I didn’t want to live with you anymore.” He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled nervously. “I actually feel quite the opposite.”

The feeling of hopelessness began to ebb away under his unwavering gaze. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Then why do you keep disappearing all the time? We’ve barely seen each other in weeks.”

“Oh, uhhh, right.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a really good reason for that.”

He pushed himself off of the bed and made his way over to the dresser. After fumbling around one of the drawers, he pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box topped with a sparkling golden bow.

“I had this custom made for you, and there was a problem with my order. I was trying to take care of the issue the day I left. That’s why I canceled all of our plans.” He held out the box for her to take.

Marinette took the box and examined it.

He sat back down on the bed and clasped his hands in his lap. “I was going to give it to you while we were decorating the tree, but I got kind of nervous.”

“Is that why you kept avoiding me tonight?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Why? I love everything you give me.”

“This is just...really special, and I wanted the moment to be purr-fect.”

She giggled. “A cat pun...really? I thought we were having a serious moment, Chaton.”

“Well, it made you smile, didn’t it?” He reached up and brushed a stray hair away from her face. “I want to look back and say that you were smiling when I gave this to you.”

“This must really be some gift.”

“It is.”

“What is it?”

“How about you open it and find out.” She turned the box a few times until she found the tape holding it together. She carefully removed the outer wrapping and pulled out a small, plain cardboard box with a lid. Marinette took off the lid to reveal an elegant black velvet box with a small silver clasp. It fit in the palm of her hand, and the more she stared at it, the more things began to make sense.

“Adrien, is this…” The words died on her lips when she looked up to find her boyfriend on one knee.

He took the box out of her hands, opened it, and turned it around, putting its contents on display. In all her years of dreaming about this moment, the ring he’d chosen was more beautiful than anything she’d ever imagined. She was left breathless as she watched the ring’s three stones sparkle under the glow of the ceiling lamp.

Knowing what was coming, her heart pounded against her chest. Her head was swimming amongst the clouds, and the colors around her suddenly seemed brighter and more vibrant. Her nightmare had turned into a dream–a beautiful, wonderful, and surreal dream.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you are the light and love of my life.” The happiness radiating off of him was palpable. “When you dropped into my life, you filled a void I didn’t even know was there. You stayed by my side through every bump and struggle with nothing less than unwavering encouragement and love. Without even trying, you helped me grow into the person I am today. You accept me for all that I am, and I can’t even begin to thank you for that. I love you more than anything, and I want to build a life with you. I want to grow old with you, get a hamster, have children...I want it all.”

“Adrien…” Her hands were covering her mouth.

He took a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

Marinette launched herself off of the bed and tackled Adrien to the ground in a crushing hug. “YES! YES! OH MY GOD, I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING! YES!”

Now it was his turn to cry. “Wait, really?”

“I have been dreaming about marrying you for thirteen years!”

“But...that’s when we met.”

“And when I fell in love with you.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“My amazing, Chaton...Adrien, I love you so much.” She held his face in her hands. “I would love nothing more than to marry you.”

Before she had time to react, his lips were on hers. She slid off the bed, sunk to the floor, and erased the remaining space between them. Her hands were in his hair, desperate to feel him even closer. All too soon, they pulled away, gasping for air.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you, my lady. You’ve made me the happiest cat in the world.”

She leaned in and kissed him again. This time, it was a chaste peck on his lips that she knew left him wanting more.

“Marinette, no,” he whined, “come back.”

“I will," she said with a teasing lilt, “as soon as you finish what you started.”

“What?”

“Or do I have to put the ring on myself?”

“Of course not. Your hand, my lady?” He picked the box up off of the ground, plucked the ring out of the cushion, and slipped it onto her finger.

And just like that, all was right with the world. She always knew that she and Adrien were a forever kind of thing, but before today, it always felt abstract. Now, it was more than a daydream. It was their future, and it was real.

They kissed again and again until their lips were chapped and their cheeks hurt from smiling. Sooner than they would have liked, they decided to rejoin their friends; however, before she shut out the light and walked out of the room, she stopped to admire the ring once more.

It was a perfect fit...just like them.

[stan-joonies]

Mine, Mine, Mine

Requested! Prompt:

26: "You're mine, i don't share,"

The girl grinned up at Sweet Pea when he threw a lazy arm carelessly around her shoulders. He was tapping something on his phone, playing with a piece of gum with his tongue. His hair curled across his tanned forehead and his towering frame covering her in warmth.

Toni rolled her eyes.

"Absolutely sickly. You're a bunch of lovesick puppies,"

She smirked.

"At least we haven't been caught licking at eachothers--"

"Woah, imma stop you there, mutt," Toni hissed, glaring up at her. She ignored it and just smirked.

"What? It's just me and you," she shoved a thumb back into her boyfriends chest. "Ever since he got the new phone he's been completely unresponsive," to prove her point, she dragged sharp nails from his chest down to his pelvis, then back up, a gesture that would usually make Sweet Pea shiver and drag her away, or at least blush. His eyes stuck glued to the screen, however, not even humming in acknowledgement .

"Bet you're regretting that purchase, aint you?"

Y/N shrugged. In all honesty, she didn't mind. Sweet Pea had originally had a flip phone, used only to take and recieve calls. Even then the only contacts was some of the serpent elders, Toni, Fangs, her and Jughead, albeit reluctantly. Sweet Pea claimed it didn't bother him, he barely used the internet anyway, but Y/N caught the longing glances Sweet Pea sent when they past electronic or apple stores. Y/N also noticed Sweet Pea's reluctance to pull out his phone infront of anyone. He always walked out the room or hid the phone, even when taking a text. So, Y/N worked hard leading up to his birthday and managed to buy him an iphone. It wasn't the newest model, but it wasn't in bad condition and it was brand new. Now, with more storage, he had flooded his phone with games and apps and pictures and videos. He was in love with that phone.

"Not really," she sighed, smiling up at him. "Love you, Pea,"

His eyes immediately broke away from the screen, blinking rapidly. He smirked, squeezing her closer and bowing his lips to the shell of her ear.

"Love you, too,"

The bell chose that moment to screech into their ears that it was time for class, with a kiss goodbye and a skip in her step, Y/N made her way to art, smiling happily.

-

Y/N preferred to sit near the back of the classroom because there was a window right next to her with the prettiest view. Trees and flowers swaying in the breeze, a couple leaves floating delicately down to the ground.

Today, though, someone sat in the seat next to her, which she found relatively odd. Most people tended to avoid her, terrified of her boyfriends famous temper.

When she walked up to the table, the boy smiled at her.

"You're Y/N?"

She hummed lightly, smiling back at him.

"Great! I'm Joseph, i just changed schools recently. Apparently you're the person to go to if i need help adjusting,"

Y/N inwardly sighed. At the beginning of her years at highschool, her goody-two-shoes self had sign up as a future "Hallway buddy". A job that basically allowed teachers to abandon their jobs as supervisors and shove it into the hands of willing, gullible new students.

She had tried to get out of it once she had to show a boy around, one who was more interested in picking up girls than the classrooms he needed to be in.

It was only then that the school informed her that if she wanted the extra credit, she had to continue into graduation. It was frustrating but she wasn't exactly the smartest so she needed it.

"That's me, nice to meet you," they shook hands, Joseph holding on slightly after she let go.

"Great, I'm not very socially...Im not very good with people so I'm glad you seem nice."

Y/N hummed in understanding.

"There are some annoying people you shouldn't get involved with. But I'm not gonna tell you who to and not to get involved with." She sat down next to him. "I just ask you don't believe everything you hear,"

"What? About the Serpents and the fact they're this cruel, bloodthirsty gang of emos?"

Y/N glared quickly.

"One of those serpents happens to be my boyfriend,"

Joseph tensed, straightening his back.

"Right, sorry,"

The lesson was spent in silence after that, Y/N focusing on the outside window.

When the bell announced their next lesson, she hurriedly collected her things, intent to leave before deflating.

She would have to show Joseph around either way, best get it over with.

She waited at the door, watching his glum face light up when he caught sight of her.

"Thank god," he sighed, smiling. "I was terrified I'd have to navigate the halls alone, worst fear."

She hummed, quickly manoeuvring through halls.

Joseph looked at her, tapping her meekly on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, about what i said about the Slytherins, i just...i normally stick with the crowd,"

"First off, they're called the Serpents, and if you actually wanna make friends...maybe you shouldn't just 'stick with the crowd'."

Joseph huffed, flushing.

"Right. And sorry, i had a harry Potter marathon last night."

Her eyebrow raised at the mention of her favourite movie.

"We might become really good friends," she muttered.

-

When it came to Lunch, Y/N took him to the cafeteria where they got their food. When they turned around, Y/N immediately caught sight of the group of leather clad teens. She was about to go towards them but stopped when she saw Joseph's ashen face.

"Joseph?" She questioned, noticing the hands clenching fearfully at the side of his tray.

"Sorry...i just...god..." he looked away.

Y/N groaned. Joseph had yet to make friends and so it was clear he was totally uncomfortable and self concious. She felt the weight of a familiar gaze on her and she looked away from Joseph to see Sweet Pea staring at her, brow raised, earning a decisive shrug in return .

Making up her mind, she balanced her tray with one hand, considerably harder than she thought before taking hold of Joseph's sweater.

"Come with me,"

They made their way to the Serpents, some glancing at her when she brought a random into the group.

"Hey, Toni, Fangs, Jug, Pea," she smiled down at them, smiling thankfully when Fangs took her tray and placed it near Sweet Pea,whom, once again, was concentrated on his phone. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, him humming slightly before he began to tap furiously at his phone. "This is Joseph, he's new. I was showing him around and thought it'd be nice for you all to meet him," she sat down, shoving Sweet Pea further up the table so Joseph had enough room to sit. Sweet Pea just grunted.

Joseph sat down stiffly, nodding at them all.

"Hello,"

He recieved echos of greeting. Y/N had a slight suspicion he wasn't just introverted. He seemed quite outgoing around her alone, waving his hand furiously and voice occasionally increasing past normal range. Yet as soon as they entered a classroom, all the colour he gained on his face was drained and he became unfortunately meek and cowered into himself.

"Joseph," Y/N muttered, wanting to vocalise her concerns "Do you have..."

"Social anxiety? Yeah," he laughed. "Really bad too. That's why i was so glad to be paired with you.

Sweet Pea's furious tapping stopped.

"Paired?" Toni questioned.

Joseph grinned.

"I'm paired up with her in art and we discovered we have pretty much every class together,"

Sweet Pea's eyes rose from the screen.

"It was a relief honestly! I would be completely lost otherwise!" The blonde scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit her picked up as a child. "She practically had to lead me by the hand, i looked quite pathetic, honestly!"

Sweet Pea slid his phone into his pocket.

"I'm sure you would've of been just fine, you're a lovely boy, Joseph. People will be eating you up--"

Suddenly, a heavy weight pressed down her shoulders and she found herself squished into Sweet Pea's side, his mouth kissing the crown of her head.

"Sweet Pea?" She looked up at him, frowning at the swirl of emotions peeking out behind dark clouds of brown. The table was completely forgotten. Y/N trusted Toni to pick up the conversation from there.

"Hmm," he burried his face into her neck, taking a deep breath in, tensing when he smelt deodorant. "What? Why do you smell of mint?" He wouldn't admit he missed the flowery, sweet scent she was usually accompanied with.

"Oh! Joseph let me borrow his, turns out we have PE together too! I ran out of mine last week," she flashed a grin.

"You could've told me, i would've brought you some more. They're only cheap," he mumbled into her ear, growling when Y/N laughed lightly.

"You don't need to get Jealous, Pea. Honest. I like the tall, dark and handsome type anyway,"

His lips came brushed against her ear slowly, kissing it gently.

"You're mine, i don't share,"

"And you don't, I'm yours just like you're mine,"

Sweet Pea growled playfully, biting her neck briefly

"Who said i was yours?"

Y/N scowled, her hand coming up to rest at his throat, forcing his head down so her mouth was at his jaw. She bit lightly at the skin, a difficult task.

"I said so, big boy,"

She squeezed his throat lightly, Sweet Pea shivering, before turning back to the table, taking notice that Sweet Pea didn't reach for his phone once.

[taeyohonic]

Zero Percent

Summary: There is a zero percent chance the Park Jimin likes you, right?

Pairing: Jimin x fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Golden Boy!Jimin, Actor!Jimin, Group Project Hell

Warnings: swearwords, one scene where the reader gets groped without consent (obviously not by Jimin)

Words: 5k

Monday – 9:47 am – PoliSci lecture

Everybody likes Park Jimin. Not only is he the star of the drama department – making the Dean cry with his performance as Hamlet during freshmen year. No, he is also the head of the Environmental Club and part of the most elusive fraternities on campus.

Park Jimin is kind, smart and handsome. The guy is constantly surrounded by fellow frat brothers, drooling girls and you even heard a story about a stray kitten following Jimin around, resulting in him adopting the little cat.

So, you aren’t really surprised when he doesn’t remember you – you only share two classes and one lecture with him. It does sting a bit, though.

“And you are?”, the golden star asks, looking at you with friendly distance in his eyes.

“_______”, you answer.

It follows an awkward silence – all four of you staring at each other with unease. There is no greater hell than group projects. You’ve got no friends, or even acquaintances, in this course. It isn’t like you are a recluse. You just have a very small circle of friends. And you don’t have any desire to change that.

“Well”, Jimin begins and unlocks his iPhone, “let’s start with a shared google docs.” Now he hands his device over to the girl with thick rimmed glasses. She looks like murder and you are woman enough to admit you’re a bit afraid of her. She does start your 8 am lecture with an energy drink and cold pizza. every. single. week.

“We could meet up before class next week to divide the parts among us?”, the guy to your right offers and you haven’t ever heard him speak before. He usually just sits in class and doodles in his sketchbooks. The red one he is resting on right now is the third book you’ve seen him use in the last month.

Your eyes widen as his words reach your tired brain. Meeting up before class? Before 8 am?

The girl gives you Jimin’s phone and you add your contacts half-minded. There is not even a single crack on his screen. Is this guy even real?

“How about after class?”, Jimin suggests instead and winks at you. You nearly drop his phone when you see his left eye closing in mischief. Did Jimin really just wink at you?

“Nah, I’m packed till practice”, the guy answers and takes the iPhone out of your hands.

“What about this weekend?”, the girl asks and opens her calendar.

“I could manage Sunday afternoon”, Jimin says and stores his phone back in his jeans. His way too tight jeans. The jeans you’ve been staring at all through lunch today. He was wrestling for … uhm… fun with one of his brothers – Jungkook you think – and his ass was just… very present pressed against the denim.

“Sounds good”, the sketch guy says and the girl nods in agreement. Now all of them look at you; the person that did in fact have plans for Sunday. But you doubt they’d be very understanding of your self-care day off from the week.

“Yeah, sure”, you agree reluctantly and fish out your own smartphone, an old grandfather of Jimin’s model with many cracks littering the screen. Without looking up, you delete the do not disturb block in your calendar and create a new appointment: group project politics.

“We can meet up at the PoliSci library; I’ll get us a study room”, Jimin says and stands up – his tights directly in your eyesight. There is a hint of blush on your cheeks as you pack your things together yourself.

“Great”, the other guy cheers – way too enthusiastic – and departs from your group. His sketchbook is raised as he waves at you. You turn around to the others and they are both gone too. Well, what did you expect from a group assignment worth 15% of your grade with random people? Did you see Jimin’s back as he exited the lecture room? Maybe. And did your eyes lay a bit longer on his butt? It’d be a crime if they didn’t.

**

Wednesday – 10:03 pm – dorm room

“No way!”, your roommate shouts, her voice a shrill pain in your head. “Not the Park” You just nod, your late-night ramen hot on your tongue.

“How did you manage that?”, she asks and nibs on some seaweed crackers.

“Random assignment”, you mutter as you swallow down your food.

“You lucky, lucky bitch!” She throws one half-eaten cracker in your face.

“It’s a group project, not a blind date, Jisoo.”

There is a zero percent chance that the Park Jimin is even slightly interested in you. But then you remember his wink and you up your chances to three percent.

“Let’s get some beer to celebrate!”, your roommate suggests and totally ignores your unenthusiastic posture. The day was long – after working a shift at the kiosk on campus.

“I’m tired”, you whine, but your body moves as you get dragged to your feet by Jisoo. “My noodles”, you cry. She just rolls her eyes and pushes the warm cup into your hands. “Eat them on the way.”

You grumble the whole walk to the kiosk you worked just a few hours ago. There are so much more options to get two cans of beer at 10 pm on a Wednesday, but you do get a 5% employee discount – plus the 20% for being a student.

“Do you think he’ll invite you to the fancy parties?”, Jisoo wonders and swings your entwined hands between you. Your other hand holds your food – you want to save the rest up for drinking.

“Before or after I bear his heir?” Jimin’s fraternity is legendary for its exclusive parties. In contrast to most frats, theirs is known for the tight circle of invites. These events had a hand-picked guestlist, no cheap alcohol in sight. There were even rumors that Jimin makes all partygoers use reusable cups to reduce plastic trash. You do remember reading about this in one of the columns of your university paper.

“You’ll be fat after birth, so preferably before”, she reasons. You nod – true.

“I ain’t see any fat”, a male voice slurs and then you feel hands on your butt. You turn around, recognizing a squeeze before the hand leaves your body. As you see the guy who touched you, you feel fear setting in your bones. There are three of them and they do look very drunk. The darkened ally is not the most favorable spot to meet jerks. You can see the light from your store coming up ahead, but it’s late and deserted and they touched you.

“HEY”, Jisoo shouts and moves in front of your body. “NO TOUCHING WITHOUT CONCENT!”

His two friends are shocked by her loud outbreak and take a step back, but the toucher is still standing his ground. “Yo, be chill, bitch”, he says. Oh, he did not. Before you can even think about it, your arm moves on its own account. The lukewarm soup and the noodles splash in his face, coating his shirt and dripping on the cement. The guy’s eyes widen in surprise, but then they light up with anger. Shit. “Shit”, Jisoo whispers out loud.

And then Park Jimin is there, pushing in front of you. He creates a human wall between you and the three guys. His body heaves as he breathes in fast intervals. He must have run after he heard Jisoo’s shouting.

“Back off”, the golden boy says with a calm voice. His blond hair is so close, you are sure you can smell his eucalyptus shampoo.

“Hey man, this is between me and these two bitches”, the other guy answers, insulting you again.

“You’ve got a minute till my brothers catch up”, Jimin states. “Go. Now.”

Maybe the guy was too far gone, alcohol clouding his judgment, but he needs his two buddies nearly dragging him away from you. They whisper in his ears, half bowing to Jimin. “So sorry, man”, one of them says, clearly having recognized the star student even in the dark.

Jimin doesn’t react. Instead, he turns around to you and you get to look at his angered face. “Why are you two out here? Alone? In the middle of the night? Where is your rape whistle? Hm?”, he asks. You just watch him with surprised eyes.

“Hmm?”, he questions again, stepping closer to you. Jisoo stares silently at Jimin. She has never spoken to him but has always been a strong advocate for watching his ass during lunch.

“Uhm”, you try to answer and swallow the fear from moments ago down. “We… we-were getting to the part?”

Jimin just scoffs in your face, clearly not impressed with your fumbled words. “What are you even doing out here at this time?”

You are slightly intimidated by his presence, so your finger shakes a bit as you point to the kiosk behind you. “We wanted beer.”

**

You have no idea how this happened. One second you were assaulted, then saved by Jimin. Now you’re sitting in front of the store, waiting for the guy to come back out. Jisoo is sitting next to you on the steps, her elbows on her knees. Then you hear the bell at the door and turn around to see Jimin juggling three beers under his right arm and a steaming cup of noodles in his left hand. He comes to a still before you and pushes the ramen in your hands. After that he places two bottles in front of your feet and crouches down facing you. Jimin’s face has cleared and he looks friendly enough.

“Thanks”, you whisper into your cup. Jisoo hums in agreement.

“I called one of my brothers. He’ll get the footage from one of the security cameras tomorrow”, he explains and twists his own beer open, taking a big swing.

“Why?”, you ask confused and blow at your noodles. Jimin’s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean why? So, we can write these bastards up”, he says, and you gasp in surprise, the noodles falling back into the cup.

“You’d… do that for us? Even though you haven’t even seen him… uhm… grabbing me?”, you question in wonder. Why would he go out on a limb for you?

Jimin just rolls his eyes at you. “Of course, I’d do that.”

He is halfway through his beer when Jisoo decides to participate in this semi silent semi one-sided conversation.

“What … were you – you know – doing out this late?”, she wants to know in the softest tone you’ve ever heard her speak in.

Jimin’s hand combs through his hair, the thick strands parted by his fingertips. “I was on a date”, he answers casually.

“On a Wednesday?” Maybe not your smartest contribution because both let out a chuckle.

“Some people date during the week”, Jisoo snorts.

“Some people do meth, Jisoo. Doesn’t mean these are good life choices. Wait – Jimin… did you leave your date to…”

“To rescue two girls from danger? Yeah.”, he finishes for you and dusts invisible dirt from his shoulders. You roll your eyes at his puffed chest and eat another bite of your food.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you”, he laughs, “I was just on my way back from dropping her off at thes dorms.”

After that, there is an awkward silence. The three of you aren’t friends – there is no connection, common interest or shared anecdotes between you. Well, apart from your group project and his unborn son. Before you can start to ramble about the specifics of the – still empty – google docs he linked you in two days ago, his cell starts vibrating.

“Yeah?”, Jimin answers absently and collects your empty bottles to dispose them into the recycling bin. His conversation is muffled at best and you look at your roommate. Again, you hear the bell ring as your coworker Jaehyung closes the door and locks the store.

He smiles down at you. “Why didn’t you come inside, ______?”, he asks in greetings and gives you a quick hug. You hold your ramen in a vice grip – you’ll not lose your second midnight snack again.

“Jimin insisted he didn’t need the 5% extra discount”, you shrug and Jaehyung looks at you funny.

“Jimin?”, he wonders and steals a bite of your noodles. Is there even a god?

“That’ll be me”, the man in question responds and locks his iPhone as he joins the extended group.

“Ah, man… I loved how you absolutely killed it last week on stage”, Jaehyung praises and pats the lead actor on the back. You couldn’t agree more. You’d been there with all the student employees from the kiosk. Jaehyung made it his mission to justify the outing as a bonding experience and teamwork task to your boss.

“This one even had tears in her eyes”, he whispers in mock secrecy and points in your face. Jimin looks at you with an unspoken question on his lips. The actor stops studying you and moves his eyes to look at your coworker, who stands very closed to your sitting figure.

“Glad you enjoyed it”, Jimin mumbles and spares a small smile. “I… really have to get to the frat soon”, he starts, “so, … I’ll better get you two to your room now.”

Jisoo stands up in a heartbeat, dragging you up as well. He’s going to walk you home?

“Nah, don’t worry, man. I’ve got this!”, Jaehyung answers. Jimin’s face is blank as he musters the scene in front of him.

“I’d really like to know that you got back okay”, he reasons and looks pointedly at your coworker.

“Their dorm is waaay out of your way, man. Just let me handle this… It’s the same direction for me anyway”, Jaehyung tries to reason and you see Jimin’s eyes flash in frustration.

Jisoo is just looking between both men, not really sure how to react. Has Jimin an ulterior motive to walk you back? Does he even want to walk you back? Is it more than just soothing his conscious?

Maybe your chances of the Park Jimin being interested in you just upped from three to fifteen percent.

“Sure”, Jimin reluctantly agrees to Jaehyung’s plan and faces you, his stare zeroing in on you.

“Write me when you get home?”, he demands more than asks and you can only nod dumbfounded.

“Just,… let me give you my number so you’ll be able to text me”, Jimin reasons and stretches his hand out to get your phone. You look at him in confusion – you exchanged numbers two days ago during class. He was the one messaging all of you.  

“I… uhm… have your number”, you tell him. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Since when?”, the campus star asks and musters you in suspicion. Your face colors instantly, a deep red tone on your cheeks, as you realize that Jimin doesn’t remember you’re in his group assignment. He… doesn’t even recognize you. You feel so embarrassed, more so when Jisoo, too, sucks in her breathe.

“Uhm”, this is… very humiliating, “we’re i- in the same.. group for our PoliSci class.”

There is a beat of silence as you see even Jimin’s cheeks dusted with a hint of red.

“Ah, right, sorry”, he says and massages his neck uncomfortably. “I didn’t recognize you without your glasses.” Kill me now.

You just laugh and swallow down the bitter taste in your mouth while moving closer to your friend. Now, he thinks you’re the murderer? There is no mercy for your pride here.

“Let’s get going, ______”, Jisoo says, way too chipper and links your arms as she pulls you away from this disaster. “Thanks again, Jimin-ssi.”

“Yeah”, you agree and bow in front of him to cover the humiliation painted across your face.

Jimin bites on his bottom lip, all too tempted to reply, but settles for a swift nod.

Then the three of you walk away and ss soon as he is out earshot, Jaehyung looks at you.

“I have never seen you wearing glasses, ______”

Well, maybe your predictions were a bit off, maybe your chances with Jimin were no more than two percent.

**

Sunday – 4:32 pm – PoliSci library

“Should we… just start?”, you ask as Jimin fiddles with his tablet. You’re both seated in one of the small study rooms of your library. There is a half-empty box of chocolates between you. Jimin presented them with a shrug – they were a present he got after his last performance, the sweets a gift from one of his fanclubs… yeah… plural.

Other than that, there is your old laptop in the desk, some of the books from your professor’s reading list spread around the table, and an empty water bottle. What is not here, is the rest of the group.

You don’t have their numbers, Jimin being the organizer out of the four of you. His is the only number that is saved in your phone and was used last Wednesday. There was a small part of you – hell, who are you kidding? – a big part of you, that didn’t want to text Jimin. After the embarrassment died down that night, you were really angry. How could he? He winked at you one day and then forgot he even knows you the next day?

You wanted him to be ashamed; having him franticly messaging the wrong girl in his group would have served him right. And judging by the sheer joy this girl is, he’d have gotten an earful calling her at midnight.

But then you didn’t want to imagine him realizing he had the wrong girl. No, you wanted to be present. So, you texted him briefly and rescheduled the reveal for this Sunday, when he’d see both of you. And now you two are alone. Perfect planning, ______.

“You texted them, right?”, you ask for the tenth time and Jimin nods, picking one more praline from the box.

“Yeah, and I also called while you were peeing”, Jimin answers and pops the dark chocolate in his mouth.

“Don’t say that word”, you say.

“What? Pee?”, he laughs, “Be happy I didn’t say piss.”

“Now you said it too”, you whine.

“What else am I supposed to say, _______?” Oh, the right name; nice.

“Going to the toilette? Stepping out for a second? Leaving the room?”, you list and grab a sweet. The air between you both isn’t exactly uncomfortable. You’ve licked your wounds over the rest of the week and can see your partner for what he is, an overachiever.

He has much on his plate, so many appointments and engagements, it’s no wonder he doesn’t remember one of the hundred of faces on campus. So, you decided to forgive him… to a certain degree. The degree being, that a.) he doesn’t even know there is an issue and b.) your big revenge fell down the drain with your female partner being a non-show.

For the last half hour, the two of you talked, mainly about organisatory stuff like due-dates and presentation formats. But then you pointed to the box of chocolates and you both strayed into more private matters. You complimented him – again – for his performance and Jimin expressed his relief that he received all-around glowing reviews. He even shared that there was a casting coach at one of the stage nights. The golden boy’s eyes lit up, as he talked about the offer to sign a contract with this coach, who was one of the most in-demands in his profession.

“We could just divide the parts evenly among us and pick the ones most to our liking”, your partner offers and shares his tablet with you.

“I doodled with a few topics last night… what do you think, _____?”, he asks, and you look at his notes. Of course, his doodles look like your versions of an exposé.

Why does he have so much resources to prep for this meeting when he can’t even filter your face?

“Yeah, the second theme looks… uhm quite promising”, you say and move to enlarge his mind map. You’re sure the first proposal is just as good, but there were a few words that you don’t even know how to pronounce.

The two of you work productively for the next half hour, separating some key elements of the theory and choosing your own parts. Jimin – being the one coming up with the whole topic – let’s you pick first. You try to decline but he is very adamant.

After you added all your points into the shared document, the both of you pack away your things and Jimin throws away the empty box of chocolates. So much for a healthy afternoon snack.

Jimin is just happily telling you he’ll sleep in tomorrow because your professor canceled your shared lecture. You can’t agree more – having moved your self-care day to tomorrow instead. You’ll skip your tutoring session in the evening, so the whole day is yours. A smile stretches across your face and you hear Jimin stumble on his words as he looks at you.

“There is a party at my frat today, if you wanne come?”, he offers and slings his backpack over his shoulders. Wait… what?

“A Bangtan Party?”, you whisper-shout and look at him – the smile frozen on your lips.

Jimin looks a bit embarrassed as he sees your excitement.

“Yeah… I could set you on the guestlist?”, he say, a bit unsure. Your brain is working overtime. The Park Jimin wants you at his party? The girl he couldn’t even remember a few days ago? A mere group project fail?

“Really?”, you ask as you feel anticipation cursing through your veins.

“Really.” Jimin’s eyes are nearly closed, a bright smile pushing his cheeks up.

Maybe… Maybe your chances of the Park Jimin being interested in you are higher than you thought, now that he knows who you are. You’ll give yourself solid 20 percent. This party is one of the most exclusive affairs on campus, why else invite you if there isn’t some interest at his end?

“Cool”, you say, “can I bring my roommate?”

Jimin nods and holds open the door, closing and locking it behind him.

“I’ll see you tonight then?”, he asks instead of saying goodbye and moves away from you. You see Jungkook… and is that Namjoon?... waiting two aisles behind you, talking to each other in hushed voices. You wave at Jimin in affirmation and turn around.  

**

“Don’t you think this is way too short?”, you ask – your insecurity slipping right out as you brush over the fabric of your dark red metallic skirt. Jisoo and you have been getting ready for the last few hours, which entailed not only some very hairspray-intense styling but also a tree diagram being constructed on the back of your pre-game nachos. Your roommate collected and rated every clue you gave her regarding the Park Jimin mystery – of course only after she squealed for a good minute.

“No touching my stuff”, Jisoo scolds and knocks away your fidgeting hands. She added ten percent to your prediction because she upvoted him rescuing you – and staring at Jaehyung in frustration – way higher than his misjudgment of forgetting your name and face. Even thought you pointed out that Jimin was on a date clearly indicating he maybe isn’t even emotional available.

“Your stuff is on my body, though”, you argue as both of you walk to the frat house. Their house isn’t that far off campus but it still is a 20 minute walk. You’ve got your pepper spray with you this time even if you left your rape whistle at home. There are few students out this evening, tomorrow being Monday making most of them stay in tonight. Before you can take the last turn do that their house comes into view, there is a person calling your name from behind.

You look and see the sketchbook guy from your group project jogging towards you. Jisoo looks at you questionably, not recognizing him. There is suppressed anger on your face and you try really hard not to be too mean to the person who left you and Jimin waiting today.

“Yeah?”, you ask and look at the slightly out of breath guy now in front of you. He’s got a gym bag over his shoulders, his running shoes still on his feet.

“Good workout today?”, you add with slight sarcasm in your voice. There seems to be a slight issue in translation because he just smiles wider at you as he gives you a small bow.

“Thanks to you, of course”, he answers, and you are this close to hitting a person today.

“What?”, you hiss and try to control your anger. This useless excuse of a PoliSci major will not lower your standards. Now the guy looks at you with a puzzled expression on his face – clearly not expecting you to me so hostile.

“You know? Yo- you and Jimin offering to do the selecting and dividing by yourselves really helped me out today.” Come again?

“What?”, you repeat this time without venom in your voice. His face moves to the side as he musters you carefully.

“Uhm… Jimin called on Thursday… telling us not to bother coming on Sunday”, he explains slowly as if you’re the dumb one. Jimin did what?

“What?”, you ask for a third time and now he and Jisoo look at you with worry.

“He.. he.. I mean Jimin – he mentioned that you two were totally fine with doing it alone… Mina and I offered to finalize and proofread the presentation in return”, he continues and you are just confused. So, so confused.

Why would Jimin lie to them – and to you?

“Ehm.. I’m sorry…”, you look at him sheepishly. He seems to understand and adds “Wobin”.

“Yeah, right… Wobin… this is a huge misunderstanding … let me – uhm talk to Jimin”, you say, the confusion slowing down your word flow.

Wobin looks at Jisoo in question and she just shrugs. “You’re staying with her?”, he asks her and she nods. “We haven’t had that much to drink… I think she just needs a minute. Thanks tough, Wobin”, Jisoo calmly states and your partner leaves with an uncertain wave.

“_______?”, another voice joins – because why not make it a whole convention here on the sidewalk literarily five minutes away from your destination. You turn to the male voice and see non other than Jungkook walking towards you with hurried steps.

“Hmm?”, you answer, still reeling from the confession mere minutes ago.

“What are you doing out here alone by yourselves?”, he questions as he catches up. Jisoo is frozen next to you – even tough Jimin is without question the hottest guy at your university, Jungkook is by far the most dangerous. Combined, they are lethal.

“We were just on our way to your house”, you offer and point in the direction of the frat.

“Yeah, I get that”, he says, “but why are you out here alone?”

“You can see Jisoo, right?”, you ask, not sure of anything tonight and look at your roommate.

Jungkook scoffs and shakes his head – clearly not impressed.

“After last Wednesday you’re still walking around alone at night?”, he wants to know. Last Wednesday? Wait how does he know about that?

“Who told you?”

Now Jungkook looks as worried as Wobin before. “Jiminie told me? Hadn’t I stayed longer at practice I would have been with him when he found you.”

“Practice?”, you ask.

“Yeah,… we’re preparing a inprov show to celebrate the anniversary of the drama department, you know?”, he explains and adds after he sees your expression: “Hasn’t Jimin mentioned anything?”

No, Jimin did in fact not mention he wasn’t actually leaving from a date but a late-night practice that day.

“He has been wreaking havoc since that night”, Jungkook shares. “Every brother had to sign up to cover a shift patrolling common paths during school nights.”

Now, he points at himself. “Today is my night so I’ll escort you to our mansion.”

Jisoo just looks at him like he grew a second head.

“You’re pepping for an improvisation show?”, she asks slowly as the three of you begin to walk.

This is the thing Jisoo has a problem with? Really? You feel your head spin while you try to make sense of the last two encounters.

Jimin didn’t go on a date last Wednesday. Jimin himself uninvited your partners from todays meeting. You shared chocolates with a liar.

“Wait… Jungkook?”, you ask not even looking at him. “Do you guys get a lot of gifts after your performances?” The student just laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, we’re not allowed to anymore. The presents were getting out of hands. I mean… Seokjin-hyung even got a gold bar once, a fucking gold bar.”

You speed up your steps as you see the frat house in front of you, few people mingling around the entrance. There is a guy standing at the door and you’re trying to get your student ID out of the bag – your thoughts making your hands shake.

Jungkook comes up behind you and just shoves you inside, saluting the other guy with a cheeky grin. You don’t have much time taking in the décor, but you do notice how small the group of students are mingling around the living room. There is soft R&B playing from a stereo and you see the infamous reusable cups full of alcoholic mixtures.

And then you see Jimin, how ridged he is standing in front of the fireplace, bottled water in hand. His eyes zero in on you and the blooming smile quickly freezes when he notices your disheveled state. You step around some guys on the couch, making your way towards him. He places his water on the mantlepiece.

“______”, he greets you and you hear the tension in his voice. He knows, you know – maybe not how much, but Jungkook trailing behind you with a guilty look tells him that you know enough.

“Jimin”, you start, completely unsure which lie you should focus on, your brain jumping around in circles.

“______”, he whispers and takes a step closer to you.

“Jimin”, you try again to form a coherent sentence.

Before his lips meet yours in a shy confession, you think to yourself:

Maybe there is a 99 percent chance of Park Jimin being interested in you.

________

there is... no logical explanation for this story, other than me having war flashbacks while thinking about group projects at university. did you enjoy this oneshot? Please tell me if you find this Jimin as "perfect" as I did (apart from manipulating the OC). did/do you have similar experiences with group work? I always hated it. with a passion. thanks for reading and feel yourself hugged (if you want to) from, dana

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #15:

———————————

A/N: last one! I hope you guys liked it and I’d love to hear your feedback! Thank you so much for reading and being on this Losty journey with meeee🥳💕💕💕

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

A Pair Of Broken-Hearted Losties Have To Pair Up For An Assignment 📚🤩

Over the next few weeks, at the advice of Kenji and Kogane, Aone avoided you at all costs 

Every morning he sat there thinking about you and trying to figure out what he did wrong.... ultimately feeling worse and worse

It was incredibly difficult seeing you around school, but if it is one thing Takanobu knew how to do it was make himself scarce when it came to you, so at least you’d be fine. After all, it took you two years to even notice his existence 

Aone decide to have lunch in the library now because you’d never go there by your own free will. 

He spent that time going over his own homework, or helping his two friends with theirs, or just staring out the window doing another type of math calculation: the heart wrenching attempt to calculate how in the world he convinced himself that you would settle for him when you could get any guy you want

He should be glad you even gave him a chance for a year.

To be honest, Every day was a struggle for Aone to get out of bed—even weeks later—but he did it because he kind of told himself in some weird pathetically twisted way that you’d find him more attractive if he did; if you saw him as someone who could withstand hurricaines.

At the advice of his friends, when Takanobu would see you in the halls, he’d just look away or walk faster…. Knowing that his heart wouldn’t kill him as much if he only moved rapidly

The only time that was truly difficult was in the class mountain man had with you— the same class you first noticed him in when he defended you against the class snitch—the class where you sat only two seats to his right. 

It took everything in mountain man not to stare at you for the entire hour like he’d grown so accustomed to doing, remembering how when you two were dating you’d wink at him when you caught him staring, making him blush profusely 

It literally took all of his concentration to stare ahead at the teacher or down, and even then he still slipped up and caught himself enamoured with your side profile and new found quietness, when before you were always chatty… then again whether you could probably speak alien and Aone would still be in love with you. 

When he failed to not be captivated by you at least once a day and glanced over at you, Aone kept falling in love over and over again. 

His best friend would kill him if he admitted it out loud but Aone couldn’t bring himself not to like you anymore simply because you didn’t like him. 

Besides, He’s been in this position before and it never wavered his emotions. Sure, he’s hurt—he is really hurt, but the heart knows what it wants.

You didn’t lose your beauty or perfection, simply because you didn’t want him: Go figure.

 His heart just couldn’t take the whirl of opposite emotions. Love and Hurt. Why did you have to be his dream girl? Why couldn’t he think about anything else but you? Why was his biggest dream in life to be your husband, still? This was torture. Pure torture. 

Before, Aone used to be sad about it, but when he caught himself staring at you in class and felt like his chest was empty of a heart because it had been shattered in pieces again, he had never been happier that graduation was right around the corner. 

At least in University, you wouldn’t be in his classes

Anyway, as usual, Kenji would meet Aone outside of that class everyday, and Kenji couldn’t help notice the look on Aone’s face whenever he left that class. It looked eerily and alarmingly similar to Aone’s face when he was standing in the snow that night. 

Fuck. 

Things got worse when the teacher announced assigned partners for this small project he wanted the students to work on as a major final project.

As luck would have it, Aone was randomly paired up with his heart & heartbreak: you. 

“Hi,” You said quietly as everyone including you swapped seats to sit next to their partners. 

Aone just nodded, not trusting his voice.... 

This was like some awful deja vu. 

he’s absolutely screwed 

His heart beat 5x faster than normal when you came closer, like always. Mountain man had to let his mind work overtime so that he didn’t just beg you to give him another chance 

He felt like the green school tie he was wearing was getting tighter by the second, and this was all so hard for him 

You surprisingly took the reins on this small school project, knowing from Kusa that your ex boyfriend wasn’t speaking much lately, which Aone decided he liked you more for. 

He was falling harder for the girl who broke his heart. How morbid is this? 

The deprecating thoughts persisted.

Yep, he is screwed for life. 

When you got answers wrong, Aone would point to it and shake his head kindly, offering his hand for the pencil and then starting to write the correct answers

When he looked down at the paper, you took this opportunity to take in the man’s gorgeous features…

his dark, broody demeanour on such a light palette of colours: the white of his hair, the beige of his skin, the light pink on his cheeks….You wanted to sigh. He really does look like Santa & Mrs. Clause’s son that models for GQ. 

Geez, Aone Takanobu is so...................sexy. 🤤

It had been so long that you’d been near him. 

All of your nights consisted of thoughts of him. But your days consisted of actively avoiding him, hoping that he let another girl in then hoping that he didn’t 

You cried basically every night.......and the only nights you didn’t was when you fell asleep on Group FaceTime with Katana and Kusa. 

You missed Aone with ever fibre of your being. But you were doing this for him. He would never break up with you, so you had to.

And while you had to fight back tears at school every time you saw him speaking to another girl because you didn’t know their relationship, all of that only made this moment to admire him when he wasn’t looking more crucial: you had to take advantage of this project and this temporary closeness that you’re basically addicted to. 

Because it may just be your last.

Instead of just staring at the background of your iPhone where there displayed a picture of Aone and Perdu, you took this chance to check out this incredibly attractive mountain man in the flesh:

Your eyes roamed unabashedly from the tip of his scribbling pencil over his long, beefy arms: obviously muscular even through his Date Teko jacket....

up to his broad shoulders that were perfect to hold on to during intimate time.....

your eyes cascaded over his neck where his Adam Apple bobbed and made you whisper ‘all man’ in your mind......

up to his pink lips that were pressed together in a straight line.

Those LIPS. YOU’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN. 😩😩😩

you couldn’t help but recall the force and passion behind those heavenly babies on your lips when he was gripping your hips and forcing you down on him in a successful attempt to cause friction on his erection...... 

Even though you were dead-set on putting Aone first like he deserved, just like he did for you all those years when he crushed on you— sticking to your guns about this breakup so that he could find someone better was absolutely the brutal. Oh god, did you miss him. And oh god, did you want him to grab you and fuck you silly just li—

“Y/N?” 

You were pulled out of your daze momentarily when those lips you were staring at called your name in question. 

Aone had finished writing down the answers at about the same time your eyes reached his neck on their little journey, and he’d been staring at you staring at him ever since. He realized you didn’t notice he caught you staring, because you probably would have looked away. But like the whipped man he is, even now, he purposely waited to stop you because he liked being stared at by you. It made his cheeks flare up like a cherry and his heart soar. Not to mention when you were staring at his arms, neck and neck you looked one way—but when your eyes stopped on his lips for longer than a minute something in your expression changed—and you were staring at him like: 

Which evidently made all the blood from poor Mountain Man’s cherry cheeks waterfall down to his groin. Maybe he had been misreading your look as one that communicated sex, but it was pretty hard to decipher now when his penis was screaming at him for months worth of negligence. Aone’s poor mind went straight to the gutter, wanting to take you and have you sit on his face for hours on end. Holy, shit, you can’t look at him like that! Takanobu had to stop you then, only because his urge to consensually bend you over this desk was getting way too strong way too quickly. He had to remind himself that you broke up with him because you don’t want that with him. So, he reluctantly called your name. 

The man had no clue that you would have wanted nothing more than to satisfy him right here and now.

“What? Me!? Ummm yes?!” 

“The bell just sounded. We did not get too much done today, but we can continue in class tomorrow. And perhaps meet up outside of class, if you are comfortable with that. We have all week to start.” 

All week...? You pretended to ask. So I can continue checking you out until my panties are wet tomorrow too....? Oh God. 

It took you a second for your thoughts to catch up to what Aone was actually was saying to you and not Dream-Aone. You forced an excited nod. “Oh. Okay, um.... tomorrow., then. Um, bye.” You smiled at him sheepishly, scurrying out of the class behind all the other students. 

***

Five minutes later, Aone remained seated there at his desk. The class was empty. It’s not like he could get up yet with how hard he was currently, anyway, so he was waiting until his member calmed down. When Futakuchi poked his head in the classroom because he was curious as to where his friend was, Aone groaned and threw his head back, covering his agonized face with both hands. 

“Uh oh. It’s Y/N, isn’t it? 😒” Futakuchi guessed while walking in slowly. Kenji did not need confirmation, but Aone nodded anyway. 

“What did she do this time? Talking to other guys in front of you?” 

Aone groaned and shook his head again, still covering his face with his hands. 

“……Oi, is she being a bitch? Giving you the cold shoulder or something?” 

Another groan and shake of the head from mountain man. 

“Wait. Don’t tell me she asked out another—“ 

“No.” 

“Then what is it! Why do you look like you’re about to sink down to the damn floor? What is Y/N doing?!” 

Aone spoke through his hands, his smooth voice muffled by his wrists. “She’s being beautiful. I have absolutely no self control around her, Kenji-san, she is the most attractive person I.have.ever.seen. And now we’re partners for the final project. I am so in love with her, and on top of that she—How can I ever get over a girl that looks like that?” 

Kenji rolled his eyes, annoyed, but a realist through-and-through.He figured right away the Y/N must have unintentionally turned Aone on in class. That would explain why he’s still sitting down with red cheeks.

Kenji sighed. “Yeah, I do wish Y/N wasn’t so hot. But I mean, you just have to do the project and then we are off to College together and she probably won’t get in with her grades—“

Speaking negatively about the love of Takanobu’s life was a sure fire way to get his erection to soften. Aone should thank his friend. But instead, he groaned once again, shaking his head. “Cheerleading... scholarship.” 

Futakuchi deadpanned. 

“.......Shit.” 

A nod. 

“When you look at her for the rest of this project, just imagine it’s like a dead squirrel or something. I can spam your phone with dead squirrel pics all class if that will help.” 

Aone sighed, finally removing his hands from his face and sitting upright. His response surprised Kenji, making it known to both of them that this breakup was going to be harder no pun intended than either of them thought. Aone still couldn’t get the visual of you checking him out seductively out of his head, and it was not only making him hard again, it was screwing with his hormones and emotions and just everything, FUCK.

“Send the photos, Futakuchi-san. Please. I have a feeling I will need all the dead squirrels I can get.” 

After weeks of feeling depressed, Aone was guiltily able get himself off that night. ✨

———————————

Mountain Man: The Sequel (Post-Nut Clarity) ✨💫

After mountain man arched his back, his entire body trembling due to force of yet another orgasm that had been waiting to be released for months, he discovered something. 

He doesn’t need Futakuchi and Kogane’s plane when you are simultaneously Aone’s destroyer and healer.

You are like no other girl he will ever meet in his life. This Aone knows for sure.

This is clear due to the fact that now that Aone is working alongside you for a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression the more time he spends with you, simply because your mere presence made him feel better. THAT says something.

Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that was what he would willingly accept

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you choose a life with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again. 

He just had to prove to you that he’s deserving….somehow.

For years, Aone left his love life and his desire to be with you up to chance..... hopelessly pining after you and being way too shy to ever make a move until you did. 

But, tonight’s post-nut clarity changed everything. That old Aone who waited for you to make the first move was long gone. Now replaced by an Aone that goes for what he wants! 

And what he wants is you. 

***

The next morning, the K_nji’s were woken up by the amazing smell of breakfast wafting into their guest rooms at Aone’s house. 

They both drug their feet into the kitchen, Kenji tired - Kogane excited…. and they were flabbergasted by the scene they were greeted with. Their jaws dropped and their eyes widened like:

Standing there in his apron, whisking around the kitchen..... was their best friend—the same broken hearted best friend who rarely spoke the past few weeks, who rarely smiled, and who disappeared every chance he got to sulk in his room alone— that same best friend was making breakfast......and whistling. 

They’d never heard this giant whistle in their entire lives. 

“Aone-san…? Kenji whispered , rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, wondering if he was still dreaming. Upon hearing his name Aone had just noticed their presence, looking up and smiling only with his eyes. 

“Good morning! I made you both breakfast!” Mountain man greeted in a higher tone—still monotone— but the loudest they’d ever heard him speak with. 

Futakuchi stuttered. “Aone-san.... wha—why—?” 

Takanobu grunted and shrugged. 

“I thought I’d do something to commemorate the first day I...... well, the first day I put a plan I have in place.” 

“What plan, mom?!” Kogane asked, no longer shocked and digging into the rice. “This tastes amazing…”

Aone chuckled lowly, which is also so out of character for him! Futakuchi’s heart dropped because not only was this the fucking Twilight Zone, for the first time in his life the Justin Bieber look-alike is not able to read his best friend. Futakuchi tried hard, and came up with nothing. 

“What is this plan?” The brunette asked apprehensively.

Aone took a second to think about his wording before giving both friends a determined look. The blonde visibly stood straighter, speaking with conviction: 

“My plan to take charge of my love life for the first time in my life. In other words, grab a plate and allow me tell you both about my plan to.... to get the girl of my dreams back.” 

———————————

Outtake #16: CLICK HERE!

[fluffy-yoongi]

Across The Sea

You had been in Souel for about a month now. You had taken a promotion for work that required you to move abroad for a year to project plan a new division. When you took the job, you thought you’d be staying in NYC, but a month before you were set to start, you found out that the job was actually moving you to Souel. You were absolutely terrified, but you figured you were young and unattached, plus is was only for one year.

You were settling in okay. It was difficult adjusting to the time zone and trying to still talk to your friends and family at home, and you were starting to get homesick and lonely. You knew enough Korean to get by, but you definitely weren’t fluent by any means. For work, it wasn’t too bad. Most of what you were doing was graphic designed based, so it was just a mater of making sketches, and adjusting. It was going out and having a social life that was hard. You were the youngest on your team, by around 20 years, and hanging out with 40 and 50 year old men wasn’t really your idea of fun. So during the week you worked, and on the weekends, you silently explored the city.

You set off on Saturday morning to go get a coffee from the cafe down the street from your apartment and sit along the river with your sketch pad. It was about the only way you’d been able to find comfort while half a world away from home. So you woke up around 8, showered and called your mom to talk while you were getting ready. After talking to your mom for about an hour, you said goodbye, packed up a bag with your sketchbook and pencils, then headed to the cafe. You ordered your usual, americano and a blueberry muffin, then put your headphones in, and left the cafe.

As you were heading to one of your favorite spots along the river, your phone dinged. You mom was sending you a picture of your cat cuddling with her dog. They had been fighting since you moved, and this was the first time they were getting along since your mom started taking care of you cat. You felt the tears in your eyes start to well up, completely taking your mind off the fact you were walking down a sidewalk. Suddenly, you can to an abrupt crash, your coffee going all over the front of you and phone crashing to the sidewalk.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. My mom just sent me a picture of my cat, and I’m sorry. Does you jacket need dry cleaned? Here, let me get some cash.”

The person in front of you began to laugh. “Are you okay?” A deep voice asked in the cutest accent.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Did my coffee get on you?”

“No. I’m fine.”

The strangers face was hidden by a mask as he bent down to pick up your phone. “Uh, your screen.”

You looked at you phone, and the screen was shattered beyond use. “Great, guess there goes my off day.”

The stranger in front of you chucked again. “Let me get you a new phone. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“No, I can’t accept that. I wasn’t even looking up. It’s fine, really. I should have been paying attention. I just live up the street, so I can run home and change and get a phone this afternoon. Really, it’s fine.”

“No, really. I wasn’t paying attention. I was daydreaming and lost in my own world. Now I insist. Let me get you a phone. Plus, now I know you live on this street, I can just sit out here and wait until you let me pay for it.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s really not that big of a deal. I can-“

“You can let me get you a new drink while you go change, then meet me back here so I can buy you a phone.”

“Okay, thank you, stranger.”

“Yoongi.” A hand extended out for a handshake.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You retuned the handshake, and it lasted a few seconds longer than it needed to as your eyes locked.

“It’s no problem, stranger. Now what do you want to drink?”

“Y/N. My names Y/N. And an iced americano, please.”

“Y/N. I like that. And you’ve got good taste. Now go change, and I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes, coffee in hand.”

You thanked the stranger, who now had a name, once more as you turned to walk back to your apartment. “Yoongi. What a unique name. And his eyes are so deep.” You thought out loud as you frantically shuffled through your closet looking for an equally as comfortable sweater and leggings combo as the one you had changed into. Thankfully, your jacket seemed to avoid the coffee, so you threw it back on, then set off back to the cafe.

You didn’t know if would still be there, so you didn’t get your hopes up, but sure enough, there he was, sitting at the little bistro table outside the cafe.

“That was quick,” He smiled as he stood up to hand you your coffee.

“Thank you. And yeah, I have to wear my business clothes during the week, so the weekends are reserved for the comfiest thing in my closet.” You let out a little nervous laugh, feeling your cheeks flush with color.

“I like your style. I called for a car while you were changing, it should be here soon.” A warm smile broke across his face. The mask he was wearing when you first collided was now tucked under his chin so he could drink his coffee.

“Really, you don’t have to be so kind. I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me this or something for my clumsiness.”

He let out a deep, raspy laugh. “I can see the car coming, so it’s too late to change my mind now.” A few seconds later, a black town car pulled up to the curb, and Yoongi went out to open the door for you.

“Oh, thanks.” You were shocked at how nice this complete stranger was being to you. You’d been living here for nearly a month, and this was the first time you’d talked to someone outside of work for more than a casual greeting.

Yoongi got in the car on the other side and gave the driver the address of a store on the other side of the town. “So, you’re obviously not Korean. What brings you to the other side of the world.”

“I work for a large company doing project planning. There’s a new division opening, and I’m the designer for the new infographics and displays. It was supposed to be in New York, but got changed at the last minute. The project is only for a year, so my mom is keeping my cat, and I’m living in Souel now.”

You could feel yourself instantly regretting everything you just said. You couldn’t read Yoongi’s expression as you studied him for a response.

“So, you do art?”

“Yeah, not as much as I want to. My major in school was fine arts, but not as many companies are looking for painters.” You leg was shaking nervously. Not at anything the person next to you was saying or doing, you just felt weird talking about yourself.

“Let me know if I’m asking too much. I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you or something.” He let out a breathy laugh that made you smile.

“No! You’re fine! I’m promise. I just get nervous talking about myself. I don’t think what I do is that exciting, but it’s still doing art, it pays well and I get to travel a lot.”

“Having a job that allows you to travel is the best. I feel like I’m always going somewhere new for work.”

“What do you do?” He looked almost surprised at your question.

“Uh, well. I’m a musician.”

“That’s amazing. I love music. I always wanted to play an instrument, but that was never my artistic calling.” He laughed at your comment. “What kind of music do you make?”

“Well, a little bit of everything. I’m in a group, so technically pop music, but we definitely go for more of an R&B sound than traditional pop.”

“So you sing?”

“No way. I produce, write and rap. I wish I could sing, but that was not my destiny.”

“Well, next time you guys have a show, you’ll have to tell me.”      

“Well, if you want that, I guess you better give me you number.”

You felt you cheeks flush with color. That may have been the smoothest pickup line you’ve ever heard. “I..”

“Here.” The driver stopped outside of the phone storefront cutting your response short.          

“Hold that thought.” He quickly ran out of the car to open your door before you could even process everything that just happened.

“Thank you.” You climbed out of the car still flustered by the conversation that had just happened. You tried to relax and walk into the store, but your mind was racing.          

“Let’s get you new phone so you can read the next show flyer I send you.” Yoongi walked into the store, and you followed suit.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“Hi, we need to get a new iPhone. Whatever the newest model is. And plenty of storage for art and music. Thanks.” Yoongi had answered everything before you could even open your mouth.

“Really, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine with just the same one I have. I’ve got my credit card. It’s fine.”

“No, I ran into you. I’m buying you a new phone. End of discussion.” He reached for his wallet out of his pocket, grabbing a black American Express card.

Who is this man? A black card?

“Did we need any cases or screen protectors today?” The sales representative set the phone on the counter.

“We should probably do the screen protector.”

“Yoongi, at least let me buy that.”

“No, my treat. Besides, you think $20 is going make a difference?” You smiled, still feeling guilty about the kindness of the man who you didn’t even know an hour ago.

“Well, I owe you.” You stepped up to the counter to finish setting up your phone. Once you were finished getting everything set up, the two of you walked back out to the car, and headed back to your apartment.

“So, now that your phone is fixed, how about you text me so I have your number. Then, we can call it even.” Yoongi reached over to grab your phone adding his name and number to your contacts. “Just send me your name so I can save it.”

“Are you sure? Really? Can I at least buy you lunch or something?” You began to send a message to him.

“Hmmm, I guess it is getting close to lunch time. Fine, your number and hot pot. Then, we’re even.” His phone buzzed with the message you sent him, and he saved your number as he asked the diver to take you to his favorite hotpot restaurant.

“I’ve been here a month, and I’ve basically been living off ramen, coffee and whatever is in stock at the 7/11 on the corner. I don’t know enough Korean to try anything else. I’m so scared of ordering something I can’t eat.”

“What?” His face was taken over by a completely shocked expression.

“I know. I know. I’m allergic to eggs, and I’m scared of getting sick. I don’t know what I would do if I got sick without my mom. I still make her come take care of me when I have a cold.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “No eggs. I’ll keep that in mind.”  

The two of you arrived at the restaurant, and walked in for lunch. You had great conversations about family, pets and favorite artist. Before you knew it 2 hours had gone by. The two of you had finished eating about an hour ago, but you were just having a great time getting to know this new person.

“Oh, is it 1:30? Shoot. I have rehearsal in 30 minutes. Let’s get you home.”

“I can call a cab, it’s fine. Really. You’ve done enough.”

“You don’t even know where you are, I’m not leaving you alone. Besides, I have a car waiting outside.”

The two of you got up and left the restaurant, heading back out to the car.          

“Well, did you like it? Better than ramen?”

You nodded you head in a laugh.

“I’ve got to get you out and eating more Korean food. Are you off every weekend?”

“Yeah. I usually spend my Saturday’s drawing by the river, and my Sundays sleeping.”

“A whole day devoted to sleeping. That’s my idea of good time.”

You both laughed, and continued to just get to know each other on for the next few minutes as the car neared your apartment.

The car came to a stop just outside the door up to your apartment.

“Seriously, thank you for everything today. You really didn’t have to, but I truly appreciate it so much. This is the best day I’ve had since I moved.”

“The pleasure was mine. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Okay.” You smiled, got out of the car, and headed toward the door to your building, pausing just before entering to wave goodbye. A soft wave met yours, as the car pulled away.

You walked into your apartment, sat on the couch , turned on the tv and tried process what had just happened over the past few hours. The next thing you knew your phone was buzzing, waking you up.

“New Message from Yoongi 🤴🏻”

“Thanks for hanging out with me this morning. It was nice to step away from life for a few hours.”

“I mean, you didn’t give me much of a choice. You did break my phone. 😉”

“Oh, I see how it is. Much braver now that you’re not with me. 🤔”

“I’m kidding! I really appreciate it so much. Next time coffee is on me. Well... not literally. I don’t need that again.”

“😂 Okay, I’ll hold you to it.”

“Pinky Promise. As long as it’s during the weekend.”

“Well, I have to check my schedule, but I’m sure I’m free the same time next week. This time, we can make it to the river, not the phone store. I can’t afford a new phone ever weekend!”

“😞😖 I’ll try.”

“Hahaha. Listen kid, I’m about to pass out. But seriously, thank you for today. I don’t get my mind off work often, so it was truly refreshing.”

“Well, I’m glad neither of us know how to pay attention when we’re walking. Talk to you soon?”

“That’s not a question, that’s a given. I’ll let you know my schedule next for next weekend soon. Goodnight.”

“Night!”

For the next few weeks, the two of you started to form a genuine friendship. You were surprised at how much the two of you had in common despite growing up on completely opposite sides of the world. Every Saturday morning, you’d meet at the cafe, get coffee and walk along the river. It just felt so good to have someone to talk to that wasn’t the same age as your mom, but your age.  

“So,  do you have any plans tonight?” Yoongi walked up to you, arm extended with a coffee in his hand.

“Well, I did have some big plans of watching Netflix and making instant ramen.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can top that, but we have a show tonight. If you weren’t busy, I was going to see if you wanted to come. It’s just a small fan fest show. You can come hang out with me and the guys backstage. I know it’s not nearly as exciting as Netflix, but we always have instant noodles.”

“Hmmm. I don’t know. Netflix is pretty exciting, and I have been spending every Saturday night at home for the last 3 months I’ve lived here. I really hate to break that streak...” You let out a laugh as you finished the sentence.

“Well, If you can break up with your couch, I can have a car here at 7?”

“7? Let’s see, it’s 12:30 now. That gives me at least 4 hours to nap. I think I can do that.”

“Really? You’ll come?”

“Don’t act so shocked. We’re friends, or at least I think we are. And I’m getting a little bored with Netflix. I gotta tell you, there’s only so many sitcoms you can watch before they all start to seem the same.”

“I’m just excited for you to meet the guys. They all want to meet you. We usually go get food and drinks after the smaller shows like this, you can join us for that if you want, too.”

“That sounds great. I’m a little nervous about meeting everyone, but I think I need more than one friend.” You laughed as Yoongi rolled his eyes.

The two of you continued on with your Saturday morning walk for another half hour before you made it back to the entrance to your apartment.

“I’ll give the driver your number so he can message you when he’s here?” Yoongi looked at you with pure excitement in his eyes.

“Yeah! That works. 7, right?”

“Yep. And don’t worry, I’m the most intimating one, seriously. The other six are puppies.”

“Okay,” you could let help but giggle. “I’ll see you in a little bit then. Do I need to wear anything fancy?”

“You’re so cute. No, it’s just a small concert. Wear whatever you’re comfortable in.” He chucked at your question.

“I don’t know. You’re draped in mystery. Maybe.. I don’t know.” You laughed together for quick second before Yoongi pulled you in for a hug.

“I have to get to sound check, then get ready. The car will drop you off backstage.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” His driver was now staring at the two of you, clearly getting impatient.

“I think you better go, or he may not come pick me up later.”

“You’re probably right. See you later.” And with a soft laugh, he climbed into the car, and took off.

You walked into your apartment tried to process everything that just happened. In the time the two of you had spent together, that was the first time he’d called you cute or hugged you. I mean, it’s not like you mined it, but you also couldn’t help but overthink the situation. You figured a shower and quick nap would help calm you down, so you did just that.

You woke up around 4:30, giving you more than enough time to change. You threw on an oversized sweater and swapped your leggings for some skinny jeans, threw your hair up in a bun, did some soft and natural makeup and topped the outfit off with your favorite doc martens. You still had about 20 minutes to kill, so you walked down to the cafe for a coffee, then sat outside waiting for the car.

7 pm on the dot, a black town car turned the corner. You stood up to start walking down to where he was going to pick you up, but he stopped in-front of the cafe.

You slid into the back of the car, said thank you, and headed off to the venue. You never really talked to the driver much the few times you had met him, plus you didn’t even know if he spoke any english, so you sat in the back reading the book you kept in your bag. It wasn’t long until you were being escorted from the car to the backstage area. Everything was starting to feel like a blur and a rush. Was this really happening? A guy you had known for maybe two months was inviting you to his concert?

You walked in, and suddenly felt underdressed and incredibly nervous. There was a room full of people all just staring at you, and you didn’t know a single face looking back at you.

Suddenly you heard a familiar voice coming up beside you, “Hey, kid.” It was Yoongi, looking completely different than how he did when you last saw him, or really from how you ever saw him. You were used to him in sweats and oversized t-shirt’s, beanies and usually a mask tucked below his chin. This Yoongi was in a suit, hair and makeup done, looking like a casual model.

“Hi. I’m.. Uh.. Sorry I’m not dressed better. I’m used to just, like, small bands and house shows. Like 200-300 people. And you said small show, so I figured, and—“

He cut you off with a hug. You don’t know why he chose to pick up that habit today, but you were complaining. He laughed as he felt you take a deep break into his chest. “Come on, I want you to meet the guys before we have to go out.”

He grabbed your hand and drug you over to a side of the room you didn’t notice when you walked in. There, sitting across 3 separate couches, were 4 other guys, all dressed similar to Yoongi, and all looking like they, too, were part time models.

Before you could even introduce yourself, a warm voice greeted you, “So you must be the famous y/n our hyung won’t shut up about. I’m Jimin.” A sweet hand reached out to greet you.

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.” You nervously smiled as you felt color rush to your face. What did he tell them about you? How clumsy you were? How he felt bad you didn’t have any friends?

You thought was cut short. “Come sit down, we have around a half hour before we need to go out. We’ll see if your all you’re cracked up to be.” The comment was immediately followed by a laugh and a slap on the knee.

Yoongi leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Please don’t take Jin seriously. He thinks he’s funny.” His warm breath and deep voice sent chills down your spine. You were still in shock, so you just smiled, nodded and sat down.

“I have to say, I’ve known Yoongi for 5 years now. I’ve never seen him want to bring someone around us other than his family. You must be pretty special.”

“And that’s Namjoon. You’d think with an IQ of 148, he’d be a little smarter.” You could tell Yoongi was nervous, and you kind of liked seeing this side of him. He always seems so cool and collected on your walks, it was nice to know he was still a human under his cool exterior.

“Hi, uh. I’m y/n.” You waved for some reason, and instantly regretted it. You must have looked so dumb, here you are, clearly out of place and from the other side of the world, waving to people in the same room as you introduced yourself. You could feel your cheeks start to turn red. Suddenly you felt a hand caress your back, and you looked over to see Yoongi raise his eyebrows and mouth “You good?” You nodded.

“Okay, guys. I didn’t bring her here for an interrogation.  She’s new to Korea, and if I weren’t such a klutz, she’d still be alone in Korea.” You could hear him hold back his laugh at the bad joke he just made. “Now, let’s show her an actual good time, and not make her more nervous?” His hand still resting on your back, not low enough to make you uncomfortable but not high enough to be just friendly. Maybe you were just over reading the situation. Maybe he was just trying to make you comfortable. You mind was racing trying to process everything that had happened over the course of the last 12 hours.

Thankfully, another voice broke your racing mind. “Well any friend of Suga-hyung is a friend of me.” You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet smile from the man sitting across from you, before turning to Yoongi for clarification on who the hell Suga was.

“Suga?”

“Wait, you didn’t tell her that?” The same sweet smiling face from earlier, no rounded in surprise.

“Yeah, I guess it never came up. I don’t really introduce myself as Suga when I’m alone. Not all of us have the same name on and off the stage.”

“I do. I’m Jungkook!”

You smiled and said hi, then realized there were still two people sitting in chairs getting their hair finished. “Wait, how many are in the band?”

“Seven. Tae and Hobi are still getting their hair done, so you may not meet  them until after. They only look intermediating, they’re actually big softies.”

“I think I’m noticing a trend.”

“Boys, it’s time to go.” Namjoon quickly gathered everyone up.

“If you go over there, the stylist will take you to the side stage. They’re all super sweet, and I told them you were coming. Don’t believe any of the stories they tell you.” Yoongi smiled before removing his hand from your back and standing up to go off with the group and get ready for stage.

You walked over to a group of 3 women, obviously nervous, but as Yoongi promised, they were all super sweet. You all introduced yourself before walking over to an area labeled “staff”. There you were giving a giant sticker that said “VISITOR” before being allowed into the area. What you were told was a small show, was actually a small theater of about 800 people. “This is a small show?” You turned to the stylist.

“Yeah, they usually do arenas.”

Your mind was back to that racing place, and this time you felt your stomach drop. Who was your new friend? Everything had been so casual and just fun. You never even fathomed that he was an actual celebrity. Was that why he always had on a mask and hat? Was that why he came over to the cafe on your side of town? Because it was mostly older people and business people? You tried not to panic, but your mind was racing. You wanted to get out your phone and google “Suga” but you also didn’t want to get caught by the stylist. You tried to enjoy the show, but you were visibly shaken.

“He didn’t tell you about any of this?” His stylist leaned over during a break in the show without music.

You shook your head no.

“That’s so typical of him.” She laughed, easing your worry slightly. “They’re a lot bigger here in Korea than they are over seas, so any of the guys have trouble meeting people who don’t gawk over them. When you came in, and I saw you were foreign, I figured you didn’t know.”

“Yeah, he told me a show, I figured like a small band. That’s what I’m used to seeing in New York. A couple hundred people, max.” You we’re still nervous, but somehow calmed by the stylist words.

“They tend to be pretty tight knit, Yoongi is probably the most closed off to the outside out of all of them. Honestly, he’s the last one I would have figured for a plus one. But you got to know Yoongi, not Suga, so don’t let all of this cloud that for you.”

“No, definitely not. I mean, it’s a shock for sure. But The man on that stage is like watching a different person from the one I’ve been spending time with over the last few weeks. It’s nice to know he’s a real person outside of all of this, and know that side of him first.”

“He really is one of the best people I know. All seven of them are, truly, but Yoongi just has this calming attitude about him. I’ve been with them since pretty much the beginning, before they even had a show or an album, and you’re one the first people outside of family or pre-fame friends they’ve let into this world. He must see something pretty special in you.”

Before you could respond, there was a loud base thump, and the show started back up. There were only a few more song, and you were relieved because your stomach was growling.          As the boys all lined up for the final bow, you followed the rest of the staff back to the backstage area and waited for the boys.

“Hey! Just let me shower off and change, then we’ll go get some food. Just go back over to the couches, I’m sure Hobi and Jimin will be over there soon. They always like they sit for minute and cool before that change.”

You nodded your head and went back over the the couches, still kind of shaken by everything that just happened. You sat down, and before you could get your book out of you back, a hand reached out to shake yours.

“Hi. I’m Hoseok, but Yoongi probably called me J Hope or Hobi.”

You reached out to shake the hand, and look up to see one of the nicest and sweetest smiles you had ever seen in your life. “Hi, I’m y/n”

“I know. Suga has been talking about you for the last few weeks now.”

“Oh, I—“

“Don’t worry! It’s all good. He said you make really good art and tell funny jokes without trying. And you bought him hot pot.”

“He... He talked about that? I figured it was all embarrassing things.”

“Suga? Never. The only people he ever makes fun of are Jin and Jimin.”

“Oh.” You felt a smile taking over your face, completely out of your control. “I’ve really had a great time getting to know him, so I’m glad to hear he hasn’t been spending time with me just because he feels sorry for me.”

Hobi laughed and the two of you had light conversation for the next few minutes until Yoongi emerged back in the typical uniform you were used to seeing him in.

“You ready?”

“Yeah. Do we need to wait for the rest of the guys?” You remembered he said they usually all would go out after shows like this.

“No, I think it’s just the two of us tonight. Unless you’re too tired, I can take you home.”

“No! Not at all I’m starving!”

“Good, me too. Let’s go. My car is on the other side.”

“You drive?” You we’re shocked, all this time you’d only seen him with a driver.

“Yeah, I don’t like to that often, but I gave Hank the night off”

“Wait Hank. Your drivers name is Hank? I feel so bad! I didn’t say anything earlier, I just read my book on the way here. I didn't know if he spoke english, and I just...”

Yoongi could tell you were worried you’d upset the driver, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry. Hank doesn’t talk much. He was probably so relieved when you pulled out your book.”

“Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t help but smile at you. “You’re so caring. It’s so cute.”

You felt a warm rush back to your cheeks again. There was that word again. I mean, this time he wasn’t directly calling you cute, but still. This was a whole different side than you’d been seeing. You didn’t mind it, it wasn’t like he wasn’t an attractive man, you just didn’t know if it was just how he talked or if you should read more into it. You tried to not let the thought consume you as you walked to his car with him. He opened the door for you before he walked over and got in the drivers seat.

“So, what sounds good?”

“I really liked the hotpot restaurant you took me when we first met. If you want that-“

“Say no more. I’m always in the mood for hotpot.”

You laughed at his eager response as he shifted the car into reverse to pull out of the parking garage.

“So, did you like the show?”

“Yeah, It was amazing. I guess I just wasn’t expecting something that big. You’re, like, really popular. And you’re all so talented.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about that sooner. I just didn’t want you to freak out and not come or something.”

“No! Don’t apologize. I had a really good talk with your stylist during the break.”

You could see his hand tighten on the gear shift, obviously nervous at what you may say next. “Hopefully all good?”

“Better than good.” You rested your hand on his on the gear shift. You figured you might as well shoot your shot. Try and figure out if he was flirting or just flirty. You tried not to smile when you saw him visibly gulp out of the corner of your eye.

“Since it’s Saturday night, they’re probably busy. Don’t worry, we can go in the back. I know the owner, and he always has a few private rooms ready upstairs.”

You nodded your head and he turned into an ally, pulling up to the back of what you assumed was a restaurant. “You’re lucky I trust you, or I would be a lot more suspicious about where we are right now.” Although it was dark, you could see his stoic face break into a warm smile.

“You don’t know, maybe I have a third name, and that one is a criminal.”

You both laughed out loud at the suggestion, and he shifted the car into park. You both got out of the car, and Yoongi draped an arm around your shoulders. “I would have opened your door, you know.”

“Maybe I wanted to get out and open yours this time.”

He smiled down at you before the two of you walked in through the back entrance of the restaurant into a storage room.

“Are you sure-“

Suddenly an older man greeted Yoongi with a warm embrace speaking only in Korean. The two of them exchanged a few words, of which you understood hello and table, then the two of you were lead upstairs to a much more intimate setting than the main dinning room you knew. You sat down in room clearly meant to seat no more than 7 or 8 people, as the older man bowed and left the room.

“That’s the owner. I’ve been coming here since I first moved to Souel. It’s the best hotpot in the city, seriously. I’ve tried them all.”

You smiled looking at the clean face you were more familiar with and smiled. You could tell he was nervous, but you weren’t sure what to say to make him relax.

“So that’s a small show, huh?” You instantly regretted it, but It was honestly just the first thing that came out of your mouth.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just didn’t want you to get nervous or think something different of me. A lot of people who meet me, well any of us, tend to treat us different. I didn’t want you to look me up or not come after you found out what I really did. It was just...”

“It’s fine! Yoongi. I don’t care.” You reached out and grabbed his hand. This time, he took your hand between both of his, softly caressing the top of your hand with his thumb. “Your stylist explained a little bit, and after going to the show, I see  why you didn’t want to tell me. I probably wouldn’t have come if i knew Suga or BTS before. I would have been so terrified. I’m glad I know Yoongi.”

You could see his body relaxing as you talked. “You’re the first person I’ve met in the last two years who only knew me as Yoongi. It was just nice to have that again. No pressure to live up to a certain image.”He was still holding you hand, his eyes focused on his thumb making small circles on the top of it.

“Yoongi, the person I know, the person who I bumped into, the person who bought me a phone, the person who has talked about anything and everything with me, never been more than second late on Saturday mornings, that’s the person I’ve grown fond of. That’s the person I look forward to seeing every weekend, and that the person I came to support tonight.”

His eyes met yours with a soft gaze. “I have a confession.” You could feel your heart start to pound. What was he going to say? Was this Yoongi thing all an act? We he done spending time with me? “The guys all wanted to come tonight, but I told them the couldn’t.”

“Wh-what? Why?”

“I don’t... I haven’t... I...” You could tell he was struggling for the words, something you’d never see him do. He was usually so calm and collected. “I just needed to tell you something, and I didn’t think all the guys should be here. I mean they know, and they know why I wanted to bring you here. I just... I just haven’t done this since I was a kid.” He took a deep breath, and you could feel heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. “I like you. Genuinely, 100%, haven’t felt this way about a person since I was kid type of feelings. After we started getting famous, I didn’t think I would ever be able to form just a genuine bond with someone like this again. And these last few weeks, between the coffee and the walks and the messages, I feel like I’m in school again. I just, I’m sorry to spring this all on you, I know it’s a lot. And if you don’t feel the same...”

You cut off his words by leaning over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“How could I not share those feeling with you? In the short time we’ve known each other, you’ve treated me better than most of my friends, let alone any boyfriend I’ve ever had. I just didn’t want to say something, and have you think I was over reading your kindness. But the conversations we’ve had, we can talk about anything. It feels like I’ve known you for years.”

“Really?” His face lit up, leaning in for a more passionate peck this time. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Your moment was cut short by the food coming in.

“You remembered I cant have eggs.” You smiled as everything was sat down and there wasn’t even a smaller dish with eggs for him.

“Of corse. I can’t have you sick on our first date.”

“D-Date?” The word ignited a warmth in your stomach.

“Sorry, was that too forward? I know it’s not a proper date, and a little weird, but I just though...”

“No. I like it. Our first date.” You couldn’t help but smile. The rest of the meal was just the same conversation you’d always had, hobbies, family, favorite tv shows, everything. Nothing ever felt forced in conversation, the two of you just genuinely liked learning more about the other.

You finished up dinner, the stood up to leave. Before you left, Yoongi looked down at you and smiled.

“Do I have something on my face?” You started to lift you hand up to wipe your face when he let out a soft laugh.

“No, I’m just happy I can finally just study every part of your face without you thinking I’m weird.”

Your cheeks filled with color, as he smiled, grabbed your hand and led you back out to his car. He went to open the door for you, stopped to steal on more kiss before he did. “Seriously, You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to do that.” He smiled as his face lingered in front of yours for a minute before he finally opened the door for you. You’re whole body was taken over with a warm glow, and you stomach filled with butterflies. Everything was starting to feel like a movie.

Once you got back out to the road, he started to head back to your apartment. You laced your fingers with his, and he pulled you hand up for a kiss before placing your laced fingers gently to rest on you lap. You just stared at him, watching the way his eyes lowered as he drove, the way they slightly squinted when he read a road sign.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asked with a smile, his eyes not leaving the road.

“No, I’m just happy I can finally just study every part of your face without you thinking I’m weird.”

“Ah, stealing my line, huh?” He smiled as his eyes still focused on the road.

“Maybe.” You both let out a soft laugh as the car turned on the your street. “You, if you want to I mean, You can come up for a glass of wine.”

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” He parked the car along the street, before turning it off and leaning in for one more soft kiss before you both got out of the car and walked up to your front door.

You entered you apartment and immediately felt the urge to apologize for its lack luster appearance. “Sorry, it’s small and kind of plain. I really just have some pictures of my mom and my cat.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s perfect.”

You felt you cheeks begin to flush with color again. “Um, you can go sit on the couch, I’ll get the wine. Red or white?”

“Red. Unless you want white.”

“Red it is.”

You watched Yoongi walk over to the couch, and nervously rub his hands up and down his thighs. It was cute and also comforting to know you both were nervous as hell about this night that was turning into your first date.

You walked over with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses, setting them in the coffee table. “I’m going to go take off my makeup real quick. You can put on a movie or something.”

He smiled and nodded at you as he reached for the wine bottle and began to pour wine in both glasses.

You came back out, and he looked at you, taking in every inch of you before you sat down on the couch. “You wear glasses?”

“Oh, yeah. I, uh, I usually wear contacts, but my eyes were hurting so I took them out.”

“I like the glasses. They’re cute.”

Your face once again flushed with color, Yoongi was good at making you blush. You sat down on the couch next to him, and he pulled you in closer with his arm wrapped over your shoulder.

“Oh, I forgot I was watching this earlier. We don’t have to watch it.” You we’re suddenly embarrassed at your favorite movie, Terminator 2, playing on the tv.

“Nope, I love this movie. I was shocked to see it paused when I turned in the TV. I didn’t take you for the action movie type.”

“Yeah, I pretty much only watch action and horror movies. This is my favorite movie.” You instantly regret the words you just said, feeling like a total nerd.

Yoongi smiled, placed a kissed on you head then rested his head on yours, softly combing his fingers through your hair. “I love it.”

You must have been more tired than you realized because suddenly you felt the sun peaking through your window onto your face. Your eyes fluttered open to realize that you and Yoongi had both fallen asleep watching the movie. You looked up and smiled at his sleeping face, then bushed his hair off his face, leading to a low hum from the chest you laying on.

“Good morning, beautiful.” His low and soft morning voice sounded so warm in your ears.

“Good morning, handsome. I hope you don’t get the wrong idea about me.” You let out small giggle as Yoongi’s hand rubbed you back softly. “I’ve never had a boy spend the night that wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“Hmmm. Boyfriend. Are you asking me to make things official” His sleep voice vibrated in his chest below your ear.

“I just mean... I’m not...” He cut you off with a laugh and a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“No, I like the sound of it. You being my girlfriend, no one else’s.” His hand still rubbing your back. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I really don’t want to loose you to someone else. So, do you want to make this official? Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

—————————

“I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I really don’t want to loose you to someone else. So, do you want to make this official? Do you want to be my girlfriend?”                

It’d been over five years since you said yes to that question, and you’d been happy you did everyday. By no means was it easy, and there were times you wanted to just give up, but Yoongi was the best thing that had ever happened to you.                

Over the last few years BTS had exploded, and they  couldn’t go anywhere without being noticed by people. Every year the comeback grew bigger, so the tours grew bigger and the time apart became longer and longer. You loved and respected your boyfriends work ethic, but it was also making it harder to spend time together.                

The two of you had certainly survived more than most relationships. When your contract in Seoul was over, you moved back to New York, and the long distance was so hard. long distance in the same country is hard enough, but you were on opposite sides of the world? Miserable. Trying to find time to talk between you both working constantly was hard, but you made it work. The boys also came to New York a few times for different events, and you took 2 trips to Korea during the year.                

Around a year and half after you started dating, while you were in Korea for the new year, Yoongi suggested you moved in with him while laying in bed.                

“I know it’s so far away for you, but I can’t keep doing this. It kills me not being able to kiss you or hold you when I want to. I love you so much, it’s killing me only seeing you for a week or two at a time.”                

“Yoongi, what about work? I don’t have a job lined up here. There’s nothing more I want than to spend the rest of my life with you, but it’s just so sudden.”                

“You don’t need a job, let me take care of you. You can stay home and do your art. Make the guest room into an art studio. Please, I don’t need anything from you other than you.” He was getting emotional at the idea of you leaving in two days back to New York.                

“Yoongi... I ca—“              

“Don’t say you can’t because you know I can support you and take care of you. Make art on your own terms and sell it on your own terms. You don’t need to depend on your art to survive, and you don’t need to make art you don’t love ever again. I love you. I love you more than I thought I could ever love someone. Please, just think about it. Please.”                

You pulled your boyfriend to your chest in a tight hug as he tried to hold back tears. It wouldn’t be hard to move to Korea, really. You’d lived away from your family since you were in college, only seeing them on holidays for the last 6 years. You had more friends in Korea at this point than in New York. But it wasn’t that idea that scared you. You’d love nothing more than spending everyday like this, melted into one person with your boyfriend. But the idea of not working and just becoming dependent on someone, regardless of how minor it was for him, it wasn’t something you were used to. You’d lived alone and supported yourself since you were 18. That was the last 8 years of your life. And now you have this man wanting to give you the world, and you were considering saying no?                

You must have contemplated the decision longer than you thought because you went to tell him you wanted to move, and he was asleep on your chest. In a weird way, you were happy he was asleep and you couldn’t tell him. This moment just confirmed that he was your person, and this was where you were supposed to be.                

The morning after he suggested you move to Korea, you woke up to an empty bed. You were slightly confused, you didn’t remember him saying he had to go to the studio, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot.                

You walked out to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and there he was, making you breakfast. He’d even gotten vegan eggs for you.                

“So, are you going to make me breakfast every morning when I move in, or is this just you trying to butter me up?                

He turned around to tell you good morning, but then he suddenly realized what you had just said. “Wait... are you serious?”                

“Yeah. I wanted to tell you last night, but you were already asleep. I hurts too much to leave, I can’t keep doing it. You’re my now and my future. It’s going to take some adjustments, but like you said, I can make art and sell it. That’s what I’ve want to do since i was a kid. So to not only have the love of my life want me to spend everyday with him, but to have him support me and encourage me to do what I love? You’re almost too good to be true sometimes.”                

He left the food on the oven, and wrapped you up in a tight embrace. “I just wanted to make you breakfast because it was your last morning with me. But if you want breakfast in bed every morning, I will make you breakfast until I can’t stand up anymore. What ever you want, for the rest of your life, I will give it to you.” He covered your face with soft kisses.                

“All I want forever is you.” You leaned into a kiss, this time feeling a little sweeter than usual. “I’ll start figuring everything out once I get back to New York.”                

“Are you sure? Because I know this is what I want. I would have asked you to move in before you even moved back to New York when we started dating if I didn’t think it would have freaked you out.”                

You laughed at the idea. “Yeah, you’re right. I definitely would have freaked out. But there’s nothing more I want in life now.”                

He continued to kiss you, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, your fingers, you hands, just showering you in the sweetest and softest moments of pure joy. “I think I can move somethings around and come back with you to the city. Help you pack, get documents, tell your boss you quit. Whatever.”                

“I don’t think I can get this handled in just a week. The visa process alone can be like 90 days.”                

“Well, at least turn in your resignation when you get back. So you can start moving things until your visa gets approved. I’ll get you added on my bank account and credit cards before you leave. You can use them to pay for everything.”                

“Are you sure? I have money. I have enough in my saving to live for six months without working.”                

“Then keep it there. Or invest it. Please, this was my idea, you’re moving half way around the world for me. Let me take care of everything.” His face was so soft and sweet, you couldn’t believe this was the man that was in love with you. That wanted to be with you. That would do anything for you.                

It took 6 months to get everything finalized for the move. And man, did those six months feel like forever. By some weird twist of fate, the paper work came through and the everything was finished on your two year anniversary. Yoongi was in New York with you for a few days to celebrate.                

You’d spent weeks trying to find the perfect gift, and somehow, fate led to it falling into your lap. So that morning, you snuck out while he was still sleeping to go get a card and print off the email to put inside. When you got home, he was just starting to stir in bed.                

“Come back.” His morning voice always made you smile.                

“Give me 2 minutes. I’ve got something for you.”                

“Mmm. I don’t need anything but you. Come back, I’m cold.”                

“Trust me, you’ll want this.” You quickly folded up the printed email, signed the card and stuffed everything into the envelope, before crawling back into your boyfriends arms. “Here.”

He rubbed his eyes, before taking the card and giving you a nearly missed sleepy kiss. “What’s this?”                

“Just open it.”                

He shifted his weight to sit up a little more, and opened the card. He chuckled at the stupid little card you got him. The two of you had a history of getting the dumbest cards you could find, and this was no different. But it wasn’t about the card, it was about that piece of paper in the card. He unfolded it, and as he read it, his eyes tripled in size. “Wait, is this... Is this real? Everything is done? You can move?”                

You nodded your head as Yoongi buried his face into you neck and began to cry.                 “Why are you crying? I thought you would be happy?”

“These last six months have been the hardest. From all the struggles and the long distance, and just waiting for you to come be with me. And now it’s happening. This gets to be my everyday. Forever.”                

You felt the tears starting to swell in your eyes as you listened to his words. It had been hard being apart for so long, but to know it would soon be over, that was the best feeling in the world. You combed your fingers through your boyfriends hair, and the tears slowly turned to kisses.                

“So this is real? We’re really doing this?” You knew it’s would make Yoongi laugh, and he quickly flipped you over, pouncing like a cat pounces on its prey.                

“You’re stuck with me now, kid.” That morning quickly became afternoon, and you missed your dinner reservations that night.                

So, now, here you were. Dating a member of the most popular Boy Group in the world. You’d been living together for nearly 3 years now, and the bliss never seemed to end.                

Everyone told you the honeymoon phase would end, or how hard it would be dating someone with his job, but it just worked for the two of you. You had a mutual understanding of each other’s limits and needs, and he truly was your best friend and your boyfriend.                

You both were so comfortable with each other, you could just sit in the same room and say nothing, but be happy. And you did that a lot. He’d watch you paint, and you’d watch him mix music. You’d lay on the couch together and read books the other picked out. Even just laying in bed together, scrolling through your phones together, it was all just comfortable and felt right.                

So now, you laid in bed with your boyfriend of over 5 years, just paying with his hair as he lay asleep beside you. You loved these little moments with him more than anything. Life had become so hectic over the last few years, but moments like this reminded you why you feel in love with him. Whenever he started to stir awake, he would always pull you in closer to his body, and today was no acceptation.                

“Mmmmm.” Am arm reached out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to his chest.

You let out a soft giggle as you rested your head on his chest. “We can’t stay here forever, kid.”

“Shhhh. Just five more minutes.” He nestled his head on top of yours.

“But it’s Saturday. You know what that means.” Somehow, through all the chaos and the fame, the two of you always took a Saturday morning walk. No matter the city, no matter the schedule, even if it was walking to the hotel lobby to get a coffee and walk back to the room, the only time you’d missed a Saturday was when you lived apart.

“The side walk will still be there in fine minutes. I just want this for five more minutes.” His hands softly rubbing your back as you drew shapes on his stomach with you finger.

“Fine. But any longer, and you’re buying coffee this week.”

“I’ll buy the coffee shop if that means we can stay here forever.” He somehow hugged you even tighter, still sending that same rush through your body that you got the first time he kissed you.

Five minutes came and past, but you’d both managed to fall back asleep for another hour. This time, you were woken up by a cold nose pressing your face.

“Okay, the kids need to go out. It’s time to get up.” You sat up and gave the two dogs laying beside you good morning kisses. When you moved to Korea, you brought your cat, Yoongi already had Holly, and after months of torture, the two of you adopted a second dog. Of course, that led to a second cat about 6 months later because your cat couldn’t be without a friend, and your bed now being occupied by 4 pets you both referred to as your children.

“Fine, Fine. Let’s go. But walk, then coffee today? I’ll make it.” Yoongi sat up, hair a mess and eyes still closed, but still just as perfect as ever.

“Okay, I’ll get the kids ready for their walk, you get the water?” You leaned over to kiss his cheek, leading to a soft hum and eyes slightly opened.

“One more?” You kissed his other cheek, opening his eyes a little more. “Okay, now one more?” You gave him one more kiss as you laughed, then stood up.

“Okay, kid. Let’s go. We can stay right here, just go around the building a few times. Then you’re making coffee.” You walked out to then entry room to get harnesses and leashes on the dogs, put on your shoes and wait for your boyfriend to get his. “Yoongs? You moving?”

“I’m here, I’m here. I had to get water.” He shuffled into the entry, eyes still half closed and water bottles in both hands. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Slip on some shoes, or you're making coffee and cleaning up the accident.”

He let out a groan that made you laugh out loud, slipped on some sandals, and followed behind you as you led the dogs out the door.

You’re walks weren’t nearly as talkative as the used to be, but you still loved them just as much. It usually consisted of going to the dog park outside your building, you chasing the dogs for 30 minutes and him laughing and recording it. Today, even the dogs seems extra sleepy, so you just took a little longer of a walk, then all headed back home.

You walked back in, and while Yoongi made coffee and a light breakfast, you got breakfast ready for your babies.

“So you know what today is?” Yoongi sat down a coffee and bowl of oatmeal in front of you.

“Hmmmm. Saturday?” You pretended like you didn’t know what today way, but you were fully aware. It was 2000 days since he asked you out. You’d managed to hide a card in the front pocket of your hoodie, and had it waiting for him when he sat down.

“And here I thought you forgot. You always amaze me, kid.” He opened the card and laughed at the stupid joke the bear on the front made. Inside was a picture of a painting you’d been working on of the two of you. “How’d you keep this hidden from me?” He studied the image before leaning in to a deep kiss.

“I have my ways. And Kookie is also a hopeless romantic with a half empty apartment, so he let me steal a room for a few weeks. We can go over and get it when ever you want.”

He leaned in for one more sweet kiss, “It’s so beautiful. I know just the place for it in my studio. Thank you. You’re amazing.” He kissed you one more time before he stood up. “Now wait here. I have something for you.”

He walked down the hallway and turned into the guest room. You had no idea what he was hiding or planning. Suddenly, he reappeared, holding what looked like a dvd case in wrapping paper. “Here.”

“You took the gift and unwrapped it to reveal it was a Terminator Two dvd. You couldn’t help but laugh. “We don’t even have a dvd player, plus we have it downloaded to the tv.”

“Just open it.”

“What?”

“Open it.”

You looked at your boyfriend confused, but followed his instructions. There, inside the case in place of a dvd, was a ring. Not just any ring, it was an absolutely beautiful opal ring, set by two diamonds on either side.

“Well, kid? Let’s make it official.” You looked up from the ring to see your boyfriend now kneeling in front of you on one knee.

The tears were filling your eyes, and you couldn’t even get any words out. You just nodded your head. He then slipped the ring on you finger, stood up and pulled you into the tightest huh you’d ever shared. You could feel him start to cry on you shoulder as the two of you just stood there, holding each other so tight you may just become one person.

After a few minutes, you both got two a point of where you could talk same, and the first thing he did was ask you if you were sure.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to feel any pressure or anything. I know we’ve both said were fine with not getting married, and this doe-“

You cut him off with a kiss that made him melt into you. “Have you ever known me to mix words?” You took his face in you hand, “Do you think I would move to the other side of the world, bring my child, adopt two more babies with you and put up with your schedule if I didn’t want this? If I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with you? I always told you I just wanted you. That’s it, for the rest of my life. This is just the perfect reminder of that. But I want you. Everything could end tomorrow, we could go back to working 9-5 jobs, and I’d still want nothing but you.”

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a deep and long kiss. He then just studied your face for a minute before he said anything. “You know, I’ve spent 2000 studying this face, and Instill find things to love. I’ve spent 2000 days with your heart and your mind and your soul, and I never run out of things to love about you. From the freckles on your forehead, to the scar on your pinky. The mole on your shoulder, the way your knees turn in when you stand. The scar on your knee from falling in first grade, the way your left pinky is crooked from breaking it when you were 6. The way your hair curls when it rains, the color your eyes turn during golden hour. The way you know the constellations and drag me out of the city to see meteor showers. I even love when you crack you toes. The way you hum as you’re falling asleep, and you ears raise when you smile. How one dimple is deeper than the other, I know you think you only have one, but the second one just hides until you have a full body laugh. When you’re painting, you always forget you have paint on you hands and fix your hair, getting paint on your face and in your hair. I could fill encyclopedias about the things I love about you. I want to spend this life, and every other life with you.”

You’re eyes filled with tears again listening to everything he said. He truly knew you better than you knew yourself. “You’re so amazing and perfect. How’d I get so lucky?” You snuck in about her kiss before sitting back down to study your ring.

“Well, thankfully, you’re a pretty clumsy person.” He sat back down talking your left hand with both of his, studying the ring on our finger. “But I want to tell you about the ring. Because this has been a few months in the making.”

“What?” You looked up at him with rounded eyes, confused by the statement.

“Well, I wasn’t about to let you wear a ring someone else my have. Everything about this is custom. Even the stones. Remember when I took that trip to LA for recording?”

You nodded your head, still confused about what he was talking about.

“Well, I went to the US, but I didn’t go to California. I went to Ohio. The diamonds are from your  Grandma’s original wedding ring. And the chrysoprase, I know you’re not into diamond, so I wasn’t about to get you a big Diamond. But your mom said you loved it and she said it was your dad’s grandmothers necklace. That it was the only piece of jewelry she had when the immigrated during the war.”

Your eyes filled with tears all over again, you knew the ring and necklace he was talking about. Your mom had them in her safe at her house along with some other small things that had been passed down to you. “You really did all of this for me?”

“I know i could have bought you a ring, or even made some big fancy ring with a jeweler, but I know  that’s not you. I started talking to you mom about it a year ago, asking what she thought, and she told me there was some old family jewelry if I wanted to look thought it. I saw the necklace, and I knew it was perfect. She suggested the diamonds from your grandmas ring, that you loved that ring. She also told me if you were going to wear it everyday, it couldn’t be too big, or you’d go crazy. I wanted to do some big date, or some special vacation, but that’s not us. I’ve had the ring for a few months, just trying to figure out what to do and last night it hit me. I couldn’t just keep it forever. I watched you sleep, with all of the kids down at our feet, and this is the family and the life I want for the rest of my life. Then I thought I would do it at dinner tonight, or I could sneak out and get flowers, or I’d take you on some romantic moon lit walk, but watching you kiss the dogs. Then seeing that painting. I think if I waiting any longer, I would explode. Sorry it wasn’t some big grand gesture, but I didn’t want a box. And I knew the movie would throw you off.” You could tell he was getting emotional talking about everything, so you cut him off.

“I love you so much it should be illegal.” Your eyes still filled with tears, over flowing on to your cheeks. “Now let’s call my mom and tell her.”

“Hold on. One last thing.” He stood up and took your hand, leading you over to the couch. “Let’s just enjoy this one little moment, just us.” He sat down, pulling you on to his lap. He studied your face for a minute before saying anything again. “I just want to study the face of my fiancé.”

[strikearose]

Wrong place wrong time

Okay, I’ve been obsessed over GioMis for the past few weeks so here’s a silly story with Thief!Giorno, Normaldude!Mista, Cop!Abbacchio and Chef!Buccellati.  You can also read it (clic) on ao3.

Napoli - a wonderful metropolitan city full of life, culture and history in the South West of Italy. A city full of hope and opportunities.

A city where it felt good - so good, to be back.

Guido Mista took a deep breath, completely unbothered by the mass of people rushing in the inside of the airport. Gosh - at least he had made it. He had successfully returned home - well, he had returned to the place he was willing to make his new home. Everything there was so bright, so shiny - upbeat!

The sun was dazing, the delicious aroma of Italy was tickling his nose, he was completely surrounded by pretty faces and dashing outfits. He was a simple man - all he wanted was to pursue a happy and cheerful life: eating pizza napoletana at lunch and going to the Stadio San Paolo when he'd saved enough money to watch a football game.

Bang.

Something suddenly brought him back to reality: someone in a hurry had just bumped into him and a long blond strand of hair whipped him in the face. Guido didn't paid much attention to the man who muttered a quick "Sorry" before resuming his path.

Well - he guessed that it was some kind of sign meaning that he needed to get going. After all, there were many things that needed to be done that day and it was already past noon.

Mista leaned down to grab his suitcase and go to the taxi stand - but he stopped on his track.

What the fuck?

Why was his luggage suddenly so light-weighted?

Panic seized the young dark-haired man as he tried to shake his arm, in vain.

The suitcase didn't make any sound, despite him clearly the small keychain at the effigy of his favorite band that he had attached to the handle. For god sake, that damn thing would make the most annoying tinkling song with every step he'd take - what the hell was happening?

He was just robbed - realization hit him hard as his thick eyebrows frowned. A pickpocket had ruined this marvelous new beginning on the very minute he had set foot in Napoli.

"Where the hell is that son of a...-," he stopped mid-sentence - the guy from earlier, it had to be him.

He hadn't had the time to look at his face, in what direction could he be heading now? What was he wearing again? Hell- all he could remember was the lock of golden hair - there was no split end and any dandruff in there.

And it smelled like fresh lavender.

There was no way he could find him among the crowd of tourists. Mista rummaged through his pockets and let out a sigh of relief when he realized that, at least, his wallet was still there. Feeling hopeless, his black eyes landed the wall clock that now indicated 12:18. before being drawn to a vibrant purple shape.

Adrenaline kicked in as he followed the form of that plum shirt to settle on a short blond braid.

Wait - it wasn't blond but golden blond.

That fucking thief! He could swear it was him.

"HEY YOU!," he roared in panic.

His scream managed to hit the bullseye. Despite the noise of the airport, it seemed to the poor Italian man that every pair of eyes instantly turned in his direction. Everyone was now staring at him with confusion, security guards and thief included. They locked eyes for a brief moment before the robber turned away and resumed his walk, with the utmost serenity.

What the...?

It was him, Guido was now sure of it. And there was no way he could alert the officers about what had just happened, he wouldn't have the time to - the thief had just left the airport entrance, he was going to get away with his stuff! So Mista did what any other football aficionado would have done if they were in his situation: he channeled his best Maradona impression and sprinted in pursuit of his precious belongings.

People were looking at him with puzzled expressions as he run through the crowd but it didn't stop the brown-haired man.

Hell no - he needed to get his bag back.

There was no way he was going to lose the few things he had bother to bring with him to a damn crook on his first day here.

Mista was now frantically running in the Calabria Avenue - the sun was at its' zenith and he was probably sweating like a pig but at least he had managed to reduce the distance between him and the thief. What kind of burglar could wear such flamboyant purple clothes? He had always imagined them entirely dressed in black, with gloves, dark hat and all that jazz. They didn't have the luxury to stand out, and yet, the man he was pursuing was walking at a swift and confident pace - as if he hadn't noticed Mista following him, as if he hadn't been urging him to stop for the last two minutes. But just as the Italian began to wonder whereas he had mistaken him for the real thief, the blond made a sudden turn and disappeared.

"Shit, where did he go?"

Guido was now standing in front of a crossroad - he could either go left, right or straight ahead even if it would take him further in the opposite direction of the city centre.

Well - desperate situations called for drastic remedies.

Eenie, meenie, miney - mo.

Chance was pledging him not to go left and Mista's life had been nothing but bad luck these last few months, so he decided instead to take that direction.

And there he was now, stuck in a narrow alley, facing the back of his nemesis.

The thief no longer seemed to be keen on ignoring his presence - he turned around to look right at his victim. And any profanity that had been dying to come out of Mista's lips instantly vanished before the sight that was in front of him.

He was strikingly... pretty.

He had the most delicate features - deep emerald eyes that were looking at him with curiosity, a straight and elegant nose as well as full (and probably well moisturized) lips.

In one word, with his halo of golden hair, he was the image of innocence itself.

"Is everything alright, sir?" - of course, his nemesis was the one who ended up breaking the silence. How dared he feign candidness so well?

Mista tore himself away from the contemplation of the purple jacket that had to be tailor-made to look at the suitcase laying on the stranger's feet.

"That's mine!," Guido said as he vigorously grabbed his precious belonging.

"I beg your pardon?"

Mista shot a furious look at the thief and shook the chain that was attached to the handle of his case.

It twinkled.

He was right about it: that guy was a fucking thief.

"See that ? That's an official Sex Pistol key ring. I bought it years ago on Ebay - it's a very limited edition."

The pretty con artist arched a perfectly manicured brow.

"You stole my stuff, you truffatore!"

Anger filled him more and more as he watched the blond man remained impassible. He didn't seem the least concerned by what was happening.

"I hadn't noticed, there must be an explanation." The thief paused for a moment and his jade eyes suddenly lit up. "Oh, weren't you at the airport earlier?"

Guido frowned, his hands clenching firmly his suitcase.

"Yeah - but don't you try to fool...-," the younger-looking man cut him off.

"I was there too. What flight were you on?"

What the hell was that question?

"I was in Roma but...-"

"L'Aeroporto di Roma–Fiumicino," the thief softly nodded his head, as if it made perfect sense. "I was there too, we were on the same flight then. The customs must have mixed up our bags. Well - they do look similar, don't you think?"

Mista carefully inspected the two suitcases - they were black and quite worn out. The only difference was the key chain and despite of that detail, they did look exactly identical to each other... As well as to the majority of those in Italy: it was the most common model of travel bags.

The frown on his face grew even more pronounced as he eyed the blond man standing before him.

Well - if he was a crook, he certainly didn't look the part.

He was way too elegant and good-looking to go through people's pockets for a living.

And his explanation somehow made perfect sense.

Guido finally let out a sigh and the man smiled courtly at him.

"I apologize deeply for the inconvenience, sir. May I now get my belongings back?," he asked Mista.

"Yeah, sure..."

Guido was now starting to secondhand embarrassment Shit - he had just chased after him like a madman for no reason since the guy hadn't done anything wrong.

Gosh - why did he always have to be so reckless.

"Uhh," the poor citizen cleared his throat after receiving his bag. "You haven't touch anything in there, right?"

His voice sounded hesitant and Mista cursed himself a second time. He must looked like such a nutcase.

"Yeah, I swear I..-"

A very familiar music suddenly cut him off and they both frowned.

Boogie Wonderland.

It was the stupid ringtone Narancia had set on his phone.

And it wasn't coming from his back-pocket, where he was sure he had placed it.

Figlio di putanna.

Caught red-handed, the thief (whose ears had turned bright crimson) obediently took out the Iphone of his inside pocket to hand it to its' owner.

"What is happening here?"

They both turned in direction of the new voice.

It was the airport's security service.

Thanks god - things were finally working in Mista’s favor.

"That guy stole my bag and my phone," the brown-haired man pointed to the thief who had recovered his perfect composure. How on hell was he able to do that?

"Police is on their way. We call them as soon as we saw you rushing out the airport. We thought you were some sort of dangerous lunatic."

The two guards then smirked when they saw who the felon was:

"Serves you right for picking on an olympic runner!"

**

13:45. Mista clenched his teeth when he saw the time on his phone. They've been waiting in the police station for more than an hour now.

And it was his first day in Napoli.

Gosh - why the hell did he have to be here? They've caught the thief, they knew what had happened - and it wasn't as if the guy would magically disappear in the blink on an eye. He had things - so many things - to do today and instead he had to be here. Stuck with the company of a pickpocket that looked too comfortable in such a situation. In the fucking police precinct.

He glared at the blond man sitting next to him who was reading an old Vogue edition.

The thief briefly raised his head and shot him a curious look.

"Is everything alright?", he still had that innocuous tone.

Mista stared at him with mild anger.

"Do you know for how long we've been sitting here? A fucking hour! Did they forget about us?"

The blond shrugged and turned a page:

"Well, this kind of thing always takes time. We have to be patient."

"How can you be so calm?," Guido exclaimed. "Wait, it's not your first time here, right? You're some sort of a professional pickpocket or something like that."

The gorgeous golden-haired man smiled and Mista frowned - it wasn't a compliment.

They were interrupted by the arrival of a police officier - thanks god! The man who sat on the opposite side of the table had some sort of washed-out green hair and Mista couldn't help but wonder if he truly didn't have a chin. But what really mattered was that out of the three of them, the thief still seemed to be the more relaxed.

"So, um," the policeman began in a weak voice. "You're here because of an attempted robbery near the Airport, is that correct?"

They both nodded in silence.

"I need your names to complete the report," he looked at Mista. "So, you are Mr...-"

"Mista. M-i-s-ta. And first name's Guido."

The constable carefully tipped it into the computer.

"And you are...?"

"Haruno Shiobana."

Mista looked at the thief in surprise, Haruno? What the hell - that guy didn't look Asian at all.

"You're.. a foreigner?," the policeman asked, puzzled.

"My family is from Japan. But my name might be difficult to understand, here's my id card for reference."

"Thank you."

They waited until the officer stopped tipping.

"You don't...," he was frowning. "...really look like your picture..."

'Haruno Shiobana' didn't seem the least affected by how dubious the policeman was.

"It was taken before I started dying my hair. Look." he placed his hands around his face to hide the blond strands.

Guido took this opportunity to take a closer look at the thief. There was no sign of dark roots so this guy was either lying about not being a natural blond, or he had a really skilled hairstylist.

"Oh, I can see it now!," 'Haruno' was granted his card back and Mista rolled his eyes.

Whatever - he simply wanted to get the hell out of here as fast as possible.

The officer cleared his throat and began his questioning:

"So... Do you often target tourists, Mr. Mista?"

...

What the fuck?

Guido opened his mouth wide. He didn't miss the smirk that the thief managed to conceal a few seconds later.

"How often do I what?," he shook his head in exasperation. "Hey! I'm the victim here. He is the thief, not me! I've done nothing wrong!"

Haruno snorted.

The officer looked at Shiobana and then at him.

His eyes lingered on the blond's immaculate tailor-made suit. Then on his leather shoes. And finally on the pretty face that was displaying nothing but a disconcerting serenity.

Then, he looked at him up and down - from his red beanie to that old vintage rock band sweater. Mista knew how nervous he must have looked in that moment but well - everybody would be in such a situation, right? Being trapped in a police station wasn't pleasant.

Especially after the last months he'd spent.

In the end he couldn't really blame the officer: he was sweating like a pig while Haruno's skin was simply glowing.

"I can't believe it - Giorno fucking Giovanna!"

The three pairs of eyes turned to the door where another policeman was now standing.

**

Mista quickly unlocked his phone (one-two-three-five-six-seven) to check the time while the two policemen were arguing - it was now 14:10. He didn't notice how Haruno (or 'Giovanna', or whatever his real name was) had peaked over his shoulder with curiosity.

"He said his name was Shiobana.", the first officer was trying to push back the newcomer who had already settled on the desk.

"He's a pathological liar. You can't believe anything he says. Let me take care of that."

The two men were as different as chalk and cheese. The new officer was exuding confidence and had that whole 'quit your bullshit' demeanor.

"But Prosciutto put me in charge of the case!"

"Then go make him a cappuccino or something." The grey-haired man rolled his eyes and took his cap off to place it on the desk. "I'll deal with Giovanna."

"You can't stole my case like that!"

Mista shot a quick look at Giovanna who shrugged in return.

"Inspector Abbacchio has never seemed to quite fond of me," he quietly told Mista for sole explanation.

Their discussion was cut short by the tearful departure of the green-haired policeman. The new detective was already reading the report.

Well, at least, Mista hoped that things would be over soon.

"So...", Abbacchio glared at the thief. "You had to pick on the first clueless tourist you could find, huh?"

Mista almost protested, feeling hurt. He wasn't a stupid tourist - he was even supposed to settle in Napoli on that very day.

Unfortunately for him, the inspector had a keen sense of perception: "You have something to say about that?"

He quickly shook his head and the 'questioning' continued.

"I can't believe you finally get caught right in the act - I wish I could have been there."

Giorno Giovanna didn't bother to answer - his arms were folded over his chest, he was looking calmly at the policeman. But from where he was, Mista noticed the fact that he was slowly taping the ground with his left foot.

Seems like they were both nervous now.

"Well, I'm waiting?"

Mista suddenly stopped daydreaming and raised his head as he realized that the officer was talking to him. He screeched his cheek: "Sorry, what were you saying?"

The policeman rolled his eyes in annoyance but still repeated:

"You want to press charges, right? I'll get the papers."

"Hmm yeah, I guess?"

Abbacchio stopped on his track and both he and Giorno turned to look at Mista as he had grown a second head.

"'You guess'?", his eyes were shining with sarcasm. "I'm sorry, you're not sure you want to?"

"No!", Mista almost began to stutter. "I mean, of course I do. But do I have to do it now? I've been there for almost two hours already, and I really need to go!"

He had arrived in Napoli at noon and he's been trapped in the police station ever since. There was no way he was going to wait here for another two hours - not when he still didn't know for sure if he was going to have a roof under his head for the night.

The policeman's jaw tightened. And Mista realized that Giorno hadn't taken his eyes off him for a while now.

Gosh - he wouldn't have complained about the attention in another situation, but it was putting some pressure on him.

"You have better things to do than getting the felon who fucking robbed you in the airport arrested?"

Inspector Abbacchio had always taken great pride of his gut feeling - he knew for a fact that Holy Giovanna was nothing but trouble. And right now, he definitely knew that there was something wrong too with the dark-haired young man.

"Well..," stammered Guido. "Not when you put in that way but..."

The policeman cut him off:

"You'll have plenty of time to go for a walk and take pictures later. I guarantee you that Giovanna won't kindly agree to come back here tomorrow. "

Mista shot a glance at the thief who almost looked offended.

"Can't you keep him here tonight?," he tried his best to ignore the daggers he received from the two others. "And I'm not a dumb tourist!"

Mista immediately regretted what had just come out of his mouth.

"What are you, then?" - it was Giorno's voice. Fuck him.

Guido didn't know if the latter was really invested in the discussion or if he was just being used as a mere tool of diversion.

"Hey!, you don't get to ask me questions!"

"You're right, shut up," the Inspector glared at Giovanna. "But that's what I'm wondering too."

And that was it - his stupid loudmouth had once again gotten him into trouble.

"I live here."

Abbacchio was quick to retort:

"No, you're not. I don't know you."

"Well - I'm living here starting today. This is why I have to hurry to see if I can still crash at my friend's for the night. "

Guido cringed as he realized that he had probably over-shared but the policeman wasn't even listening to him anymore.

"You're moving in today - and all you bring with you is a suitcase?"

Abbacchio wasn't glaring at the thief anymore, he was glaring at him.

He seemed to had caught Giorno's curiosity too as he was also staring at Guido, eyebrows frowned.

Mista now knew for a fact that he was fucked.

"Open it."

**

Giorno Giovanna was once again the one who ended up breaking the silence - of course it had to be him. His voice was as calm as usual, it was as if he didn't know that everything that had happened up to that point was entirely his damn fault.

"I swear that I didn't know what was in there, Inspector."

Guido wanted to shot him a venomous glance but failed once he realized how intense Giorno's stare was on him.

Gosh - he almost blushed when he met those deep emerald eyes. What the hell? That guy was a criminal.

"Why do you have a gun with you? And why the fuck didn't the customs arrest you?"

The three of them had turned pale at the sight of the ancient pistol.

"Well... It's not really a gun," he felt obliged to justify himself. "It's more of an old family memento, you know?"

His argument didn't seem to win over his audience.

"I'm not even sure if it works for real. My bisnnono told my padre that he got it from his zio but we're kind of estranged from them now. But well, I guess it's still a very valuable family possession?"

Abbacchio was still glaring at him so he quickly added:

"And I have a permit for it. It's in the bag. I mean - that's where I put it this morning. But then this guy..."

He pointed at Giorno but stopped mid-track when he realized that the latter was smiling at him. What the hell was that for?

"I mean...," he tried his best to ignore his quickening pulse rate - what the hell? no matter how dazzling and cute that smile was he was still a con artist for fucks' sake - and continued. "Never mind, I'll go fetch it."

The policeman flinched but remembered that he had safely put the gun inside a drawer as soon as it was taken out the bag.

"Here, see?"

He didn't bother to look at the paper the brown-haired man was handing him and snatched it out of his hands to bury it in the same drawer as the gun.

"I'm still not giving it back to you today."

Mista nodded - well, that worked just fine for him.

At least he was sure that he wouldn't get arrested for possession of a prohibited weapon as soon as he'd get the hell out of this place.

"I'll see by myself if what you're saying is true," the Inspector was scowling at him with suspicion. If it was up to him, there was no doubt that he would've thrown them both in a cell long ago. "And I'll do a background check. Where do you come from?"

"Roma," Giorno stated matter-of-factly.

Why the hell did he have to butt in? They were not discussing his case, yet.

Abbacchio raised an eyebrow at that.

"And where precisely?"

Giorno shrugged and crossed his legs, the policeman took out his notebook and Guido grew even paler.

There it was.

"Rebibbia."

The two men immediately raised their heads and looked at him, eyes wide open.

"You were in jail?"

**

Guido Mista was a simple man. He liked to go out, listen to music and mess around with his friends.

But his life wasn't simple - he was a constant victim of bad luck.

For instance, if he hadn't met this Giovanna - if the thief had chosen another victim at the airport, then he wouldn't be here now, forced to explain what had went wrong in his life to complete strangers.

It seemed to him that he was always in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

That night, he had simply wanted to buy a bottle of Martini and had taken the wrong shortcut - he had instead got mixed up in a sorrowful event. Four assholes were assaulting a girl - all Roma must had heard her screams of terror, but Guido was the only one who had somehow managed to approach the crime scene. He didn't know any of them - and although he liked to fight from time to time, he was clearly no match for them. What he had intended to do was to call the Police but he hadn't been discreet enough. The abusers had then tried to silence him and he had ended up smashing his bottle onto their heads. It was thanks to the cutting glass of his Martini bottle that he was still alive and that the attackers and the victim had ended up in the hospital.

But one of them must have been somewhat relevant because Guido was the one who had been sentenced to four years of prison for assault. He had been released after only two months spent in jail when the victim had finally gathered enough courage the testify.

Mista had tried to be a good person in a rotten city. And it had not worked out for him.

That was why he had such high hopes and dreams for Napoli - the city where he had innocently spent the best vacations of his childhood.

But it was his first day here and he was already in trouble.

Guido scratched his cheek as he basically finished telling the story of his life. Well - he had now over-share for good, that was for sure.

How embarrassing.

The silence that followed his explanation was heavy.

To be fair - it was quite an astonishing story.

The two other men in the room probably didn't know what to answer yet so they remained silent. And skeptic.

Then, Giorno once again decided that it's been dramatic for enough time:

"I believe him."

That dear Giorno - finally someone who understood that he was just always incredibly out of luck. Mista could have almost cried with relief if he hadn't recalled that everything that was happening was because of him.

"How sweet of you Giovanna, but no one asked for your fucking opinion."

The brown-haired young man glared at the Inspector. Why was it so difficult to make him understand that he was the most honest and unlucky citizen?

"Just do your background check on me then. I told you the truth."

"I definitely will," Abbacchio lifted the tip of his pen. "In the mean time... I'll keep your id card as well as your passeport. Don't leave the city for now."

"I just told you that I'm literally moving here today. I don't plan on vanishing into thin air or anything."

"Well, one's never too careful."

Mista was pretty sure that it was meant as a cutting remark for the thief but Giorno remained utterly unbothered. He was playing with his expensive watchband instead.

"Well...," the policeman cleared his throat. "Moving on - let's talk about the case now."

Mista let himself fall back on the chair, hard. He couldn't believe it. Even after everything that had happened, the detective had his head screwed on right.

"I still really need to go. Can't you just..."

"Bullshit," Abbacchio scowled at him. "We could have been done by now if you hadn't boasted about your life. I've listened to your non-sense for over an hour."

"An hour?," Mista turned pale as Giorno reached out his arm to show him the dial of his wristwatch.

15:47.

Holy shit.

Forget about meeting up with Narancia - he needed to ensure he still had a job now.

"Okay," the dark-haired man rose to his feet. "That's enough. I can't miss the job interview on top on everything. I still have rights, no? I really need to go."

Abbacchio's scowl was no longer having any effect on him.

Fuck him.

"You can't - if you go now, Giovanna's going out too."

Giorno was looking at him with interest.

Well - fuck him too.

"I don't care - I'm dropping the charges, okay? It was a misunderstanding 'cause we have the same suitcase." The look of surprise on Giorno's face was for once genuine. "And if you care that much about the tourists' safety.. Just reinforce the damn airport's security. That’s not my problem!"

If one look could kill, Mista would have never had the further opportunity to settle in Napoli. But it seemed that Abbacchio, for once, couldn't think of a clap back.

It wasn't as if he could handcuff him to the desk and force him to sign the complaint. Unfortunately.

The policeman looked in considerable detail at the punk who was already standing up, smoothing the creases of his pants, and the supposed victim, glaring at him.

"A job interview you say? Who could be dumb enough to employ you?"

It was Abbacchio's turn to grow pale.

**

Il Libeccio Ristaurante.

Your traditional family restaurant located in the midst of downtown Napoli. When his friend (and hopefully future roomie) had told him about the opportunity, Mista had hurriedly tried to find out more on the internet. And the Libeccio was the kind of restaurant which only had four or five star reviews.

He had contacted two weeks ago the owner - a welcoming man, who hadn't paid any attention to his police record and had offered him an interview followed by a trial period.

Today at 2pm. So he'd had the time to brief him for dinner-the rush hour.

It was past four o'clock when Mista passed the doorstep of the restaurant, followed by the grumpy policeman who had furiously insisted on escorting him.

Everything was just fucking great.

They were welcomed by a dark-haired man wearing a chef's hat and apron - and fuck, Mista immediately recognized the voice he had spoken to over the phone.

Shit - he wasn't expecting to have to face him so soon.

"Hmm, hi," he bowed his head sheepishly. "I'm Guido, Narancia's friend. I'm sorry I know we were supposed to meet earlier but so many things happened. I...-"

The Inspector behind him grunted and Mista understood that he'd better not start telling the story of his life all over again.

The chef looked at him inquisitively for a moment before addressing the policeman:

"I wasn't expecting to see you this afternoon, Leone. How did you meet the newest member of my staff?"

A sigh of relief escaped from his lips when he heard the words of his superior. God bless this man.

"It’s a long story," Abbacchio sighed and loosened up the collar of his uniform before approaching Bruno Buccellati. "Why do you keep on hiring people with that much issues?"

"He's a family friend."

The grey-haired man rolled his eyes - there was no way that Ghirga troublesome kid was family, even though he had to admit his shenanigans were as absurd as sometimes hysterical.

The chief turned to Mista and smiled warmly, as if he exactly knew how much of a tyrant Abbacchio was to anyone but him.

"Please don't mind what Leone had said. Napoli can really be impressive so I understand it took you time to find the place. Shall we start by a tour of the kitchen?"

"Yeah! Uhh, I mean, yes please. And thank you so much for disregarding how I was late and stuff."

Bruno nodded and motioned for Mista to follow him, but as they were leaving the entrance, the Inspector grumbled something about "fishy tourist" and the chef turned to face him.

"You seem awfully tensed today tresore mio. I'll help you relax."

Guido tensed as it suddenly came down to him that the reason why the police officer had been so adamant in following him there wasn't for the restaurant in itself.

And that was just an innuendo, wasn't it?

"I'm still on duty you know that."

Abbacchio's voice was gruff, but he still took place at the nearest table.

"I'm not offering you a drink, but some dessert. And why don't you take care of Guido's suitcase? Put it in the locker-room. "

**

Mista couldn't believe how lucky he was.

He was getting on very well with his boss (that man was a saint), the staff was welcoming and no one had commented on his sweater that definitely didn't respect the dress-code. God - they had even offered him the most delicious brushetta he had ever eaten when his stomach had growled in hunger and embarrassment.

Mista was now officially on trial until the end of the week - and it already felt like his future was so much brighter.

Luck seemed to be finally turning in his favor.

Once the tour was over and after he had taken the time to run water over his face and put on the waiter's uniform, the brown haired man was surprised to see that Abbacchio was still in the restaurant, savoring his pannacotta.

The doorbell suddenly rang and Guido almost fainted when he saw who had just appeared.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here, Giovanna?" the policeman roared.

His exact thoughts.

**

18:24.

The waiter sent a hesitant look to the client who was reading the menu with attention. He still couldn't believe what was happening - just why was he here? Why was fate so keen on playing pranks on him? The blond man suddenly closed the card, ready to order. He swept the room with his emerald eyes until they landed on Guido.

And Giorno then had to audacity to wave.

There was no way he was going to serve that thief. Someone else would have to.

Mista promptly looked away in annoyance and went in search of a coworker to dump Giorno to. He might be the newbie there, the other waiters seemed cool enough to help. Unfortunately for Guido, the first person he came across was Buccellati coming back from the outside with a box of free vegetables.

"Need a hand chef?"

Bruno shook his hand gently. "No, thank you I'll be fine. Why don't you go attend to that customer instead? It seems like he's been waiting."

Shit. There was no way he could refuse. Mista had just managed to convince him to take him for a trial period - he couldn't let him down.

"Uh, sure," he screeched his cheek. "I'll go right now."

And there he was - serving the damn crook with whom he had spent half of the afternoon in the commissary.

"I'm glad you got the job." Giorno smiled at him, he almost looked sincere.

But Guido now knew better.

"It's not thanks no you. Why are you here?"

The blond man seemed surprised by the question.

"I was starving, I had an exhausting day.."

Mista clenched his fist and Giorno took notice of that.

"Fine, I was starving and I wanted to piss Abbacchio off."

The waiter was about to comment on how he was seriously pissing him off too when the thief motioned discreetly in the direction where his boss was standing. Buccellati was watching from afar his exchange with Giorno - and he was frowning. Crap.

There was no way he could let this saint man down, no matter how much it was costing him to serve the blonde.

It was some sort of divine test.

"So...,", he took his notebook out. "What would you like to order, sir?"

Giorno smirked but - thanks god - he didn't try to push his luck. He ordered a Caesar salad and the waiter returned to the kitchen with the promise of being back very soon.

**

The charming thief thanked him politely when he put the plate on the table, but if he was expecting Guido to wish him buon appetito, he was wrong.

"Don't you even think about stealing something."

It was a serious warning, he really needed the job but the blond rolled his eyes to heaven:

"Well what would you like me to steal? The knife? The chili sauce?"

Mista instantly removed the red bottle and put it in his uniform's pocket.

"And what if I want some hot sauce now?", Giorno's voice sounded annoyed and offended.

But how could you blame Mista for being careful?

"Spicy food is bad for the health so just eat your damn salad!"

Hell, in that moment Mista would have loved for Abbacchio to have stayed - the latter would not have let the thief out of his sight and Mista could have peacefully attend to the other table. But the Inspector had reluctantly agreed to return to the police station once Buccellati had intervened, not appreciating the fact that he was visibly trying to scare off one of his customers.

God - why did they have to make so painfully obvious who wore the pants in their relationship?

Anyway, all he had to do now was to ensure nothing would go wrong again because of Giorno.

Therefore, he had to place the other clients as far as he could from the thief's table.

**

Giorno only noticed the fact that he was being isolated when the third couple was sent off to the other corner of the room. Despite their plea to be near the window.

He stared icily at the waiter who grinned at him in return.

**

Guido was loving this job - he knew he was real good at it. It wasn't his first time as a waiter, and his performance (as the tips were demonstrating) had always pleased his employers. He was quick, remembered easily what today's special was and what was on the menu - and he was a smooth talker.

The old grannies, the hipsters, the teenagers who enjoyed music and tv shows, the impressionable timid girls - hell, even those who needed help on their first date: the brown-haired man knew how to get on anyone's good side very quickly.

The pretty brunette let out a chuckle as Guido wished her to enjoy her meal, bella.

It would be a lie to pretend that his looks weren't helping him with his work. Or with girls. And boys.

Mista shot a quick look at the blond thief.

Giorno huffed and glared at him.

**

The Libeccio wasn't that big so the thief ended up having company anyway. Mista was about to ask the two girls of the table near if they had decided what to order when he overheard their conversation.

"I hadn't seen him since High School but wow, Giogio looks as cool as ever."

'Giogio'? What a cute nickname. He was certain the blond man hated it with passion.

But 'cool'?

Mista took the time to recall the long eyelashes, the faint fragrance of lavender and the slender silhouette of the crook.

Nah - he wasn't cool, but more like really pretty.

The waiter felt his cheeks reddened when Giorno raised a delicate eyebrow at him. Shit, he had been caught staring.

He cleared his throat and walked to the blond's, faking sudden mistrust.

"Do you really need the little spoon for your salad?"

Giorno Giovanna might be absolutely charming, he was still a sneaky thief. God knew what he was planning to do next.

And there was no way Mista would fall for that act.

"I will need it for my dessert," said Giogio. "Because I'll take a scoop of chocolate ice-cream."

Guido took out the note-book to take his order but the pickpocket cut him off:

"Once I'll be done with my salad."

And he sure was taking his sweet, sweet time.

**

Giorno ended up paying for his meal twenty minutes after. He used his card and took a small minty candy from the box on the counter. Mista cleared his throat and politely opened and hold the door for him. In the end, the blond had nothing funny - he guessed that he was truly hungry after all.

And then, he felt it.

A very light touch on his back-pocket.

He fucking knew it: that guy was a restless criminal.

He wasn't going to fall for it a second time. "You!," he roared as he realized that... His phone was still in there.

"It was delicious, thank you," Giorno was now whispering. "I left a tip under the napkin."

The blond man winked at him and then he was gone.

**

Mista didn't rush immediately to the now vacant seat of the blond, no. It would have make him way too happy.

He managed to wait for two minutes before clearing his table and discovering...

A ten-euro bill, and nothing more.

He checked around the table, but that was it. Nothing else.

And the little spoon was still there.

Well - it wasn't as if he was really expecting to find his phone number.

**

It was way past midnight when Mista finally managed to throw himself on Narancia's sofa bed - he sighed happily. It had been a long day, filled with unexpected twists and emotions but he had made it - he was in Napoli. He had a job, Narancia was way too happy to have someone to share domestic chores with and he was even already starting to make new friends.

His team had invited him for a drink at the end of his shift and Guido had gladly accepted a few rounds of tequila.

His phone vibrated and Guido smiled and stretched out his arm. It must be Buccellati, his new boss, who he had found out earlier could be a real mama bear and had asked him to send a message once he'd get home safely.

But it certainly wasn't him.

What the hell?

Mista quickly opened the conversation he didn't know even exist between him and a certain "Giorno G."

How...?

Guido realized that he had sent (or rather that someone had sent for him) a picture to this number earlier. He almost chocked when he saw the selfie of the blond man taken in (he recognized the curtains) the restaurant.

When exactly had he managed to do that?

The waiter had kept him under close surveillance all the time.

The message he had just received was another photo - it was a very familiar bottle of chili sauce.

His phone vibrated again but this time it was a text:

"I knew you wouldn't notice."

Guido opened up his new contact info and saw that the thief had even taken the time to sent another selfie as his profile picture.

He replied to Giorno without thinking:

"why, just why??"

Giovanna almost immediately texted back.

"You seem like a lot of fun to be around."

"you fucking tried to rob me?!!!"

"You're too easy to fool Guido."

Well, he was right about that.

"Thanks for not pressing charges, I really appreciate it."

Mista paused for a moment and wondered whereas he was really texting a thief. And why he was doing that.

What the hell was happening to him?

"well, you returned my stuff and the situation was messy enough"

"and i still nailed the interview so"

"I'm glad you got the job."

"you already said it"

"I mean it."

Embarrassed, the waiter took another sip of beer. He and Narancia had also wanted to celebrate their newfound roomie situation once he'd gotten home.

"The chef is really good. I might go visit the restaurant again."

"you should, you're a good tipper"

"And you're okay as a waiter."

Mista giggled at that.

"u know i'm the best"

"I wonder what makes you think so."

Guido knew for a fact that he was drunk - there was no way he would ever text that to a thief if he was sober.

No way.

"well i always know what's on the menu"

"and next time, it'll be me-n-u"

Despite his state of drunkenness, Mista still cringed hard (very hard) at his joke.

And the fact that Giorno was taking what felt like hours to answer was making it even worse.

"Ahahah."

...

Well - maybe the blond was drunk too.

Or maybe (just maybe) he somehow enjoyed his pathetic attempt at flirting?

Mista nearly chocked on his drink - god, no.

There was no way he was really trying to flirt with that crook.

"There's something I'm wondering."

"?"

"The gun really doesn't work?"

"i dunno, i never actually try to put bullets on"

"why? are you into gangster and stuff"

"Ahah, I was just curious."

He still didn’t answer Mista’s question.

"wait, i should be the one worrying"

"Why do you say that?"

Mista hesitated one last moment before sending the message.

Fuck it - he had the excuse of being drunk.

"'cause you have to be on the fbi's most wanted list, it's illegal to look this gopd"

"good*"

"Thank you Guido."

The waiter raised an eyebrow, baffled.

Okay, it wasn't really the kind of response he was expecting.

"You're quite handsome yourself."

Mista started giggling again. Louder this time, because Narancia actually came out of his room to see if he was okay.

Of course not.

He was shamelessly flirting with the guy who had stolen his fucking bag at the airport twelve years ago.

"ya know, you r definitly on top of my to do list too"

The euphoria subsisted almost as soon as he sent the message.

What the fuck was he saying?

"uhhh"

Giorno was now taking his time to answer - it was a classic Mista move: ruining everything by being too much, straight away.

"sry, too soon?"

"No, it's fine. I just didn't know what to say."

Guido let out a sigh.

"sorry im a bit drunk"

"and often awkward"

Thinking about how much he had overshared in the police station was making him want to down another bottle.

"You're not. I think you're funny."

Oh caro, precioso Giorno - that guy really had to be send from heaven.

"I think I'll definitely go back to the restaurant now."

Guido found himself grinning like a moron at his phone.

Shit - he had to think of a witty come-back.

"well as long as u dont try to steal from me again i guess its ok"

"Aside from your heart? Nothing more, I swear."

...

"Gosh, sorry I'm so bad at it..."

Guido was at loss of words.

He couldn't wait to try all of his thief-themed pick up lines on him.

[nickgerlich]

No Free Lunch For You

It’s funny how in our capitalistic society, we are accustomed to paying for things. Those of us who took a basic Economics class also learned that there is no such thing as a free lunch, that ultimately a price must be paid by someone. The only way to get something for nothing is to steal it.

The majority of the internet era has been predicated on a price of free. It has only been in recent years that some sites have started charging for content. For many years, users could browse newspaper websites and read to their heart’s content. The implicit understanding was that there was a bit of a trade going on, that we could browse for free, but that we would have to endure ads along the way.

The only problem with a model like that is that it assumes the site provider could sell enough ads to cover their costs and hopefully turn enough of a profit to make it worth their while. Social media works this way, as do most search engines and email providers.

When it comes to cloud storage, though, all those racks of servers start to add up, and now Google, who gives away so many services, has just announced its photo storage site will now come with a modest fee. And to hear the uproar, you would think that the world were about to end.

For the last five years, Google has offered unlimited photo storage to its users, but now the price of free has come due in the form of a minimum $1.99 monthly fee, depending on how much space is used. With everyone taking photos on their phones and personal cameras, there has never been such an interest in photography, nor the need for a place to safely back up the content in case the inevitable happens.

It’s not like the idea of paying for space is new, mind you. Pro photo storage site SmugMug has been charging for its premium services for 18 years, and at $55 a year for the most basic account, it is higher than what most Google users will ever encounter. Other sites, from iCloud to DropBox to Microsoft 365, all charge monthly micropayments or annual fees. Amazon Prime users may get unlimited photo storage, but remember this: They have already paid $119 a year for the bundle of benefits they receive.

As someone who takes thousands of photos each month, I have no problem with this. I have been using SmugMug for at least a decade now, and have about 100,000 high-resolution photos stored there. I also have another nearly 90,000 iPhone pics backed up on iCloud, for which I pay $10 a month.

Photos are a lot different from documents, because they tend to be much larger files. With DSLRs and mirrorless cameras coming in at 60 megapixels, and the newest smartphones shooting at practically the same quality, it’s easy to see how customers could unwittingly be taking advantage of cloud storage sites ostensibly offering everything for free.

Oh, and one more thing: Our photos are typically as precious as the memories they record. My brother learned this the hard way a few years ago in Las Vegas when someone stole his phone out of his back pocket along Fremont Street. He did not lose nearly as many photos as I have on my phone, but he did lose priceless--priceless to us, at least--photos of our now-late parents. That one hurt, not just for him, but also me.

Needless to say, he now pays to have iCloud backup.

The reality of it all is simple. We would have to endure so much advertising to “pay” for our backup services in trade for “free” that it would all become a rather distasteful experience. Google had no choice but to join everyone else in charging for it.

Maybe web service providers should never have started out by giving us everything for free. Even though I completely understand the issue, there are times when I grumble upon hitting a paywall. Just take my money--please--and I’ll call it good. Besides, if by paying it means I can have an ad-free experience, then better yet.

Now just don’t give Facebook any bright ideas here. I may be a capitalist, but I don’t want to pay for everything.

Dr “Pay To Play“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Baby You Were My Picket Fence [Chapter 1: Bad To The Bone]

You are a first grade teacher in sunny Los Angeles, California. Ben Hardy is the father of your most challenging student. Things quickly get complicated in this unconventional love story.  

Song inspiration: Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Let me know if you’d like to be added to a taglist! :)

This kid is going to be the death of me.

“Eli Fitzgerald Hardy, DO NOT drop that frog!” The words launch from your throat like loosed arrows. Do you sound scary, commanding, authoritarian? You hope so.  

His defiant glare glints wildly beneath dark russet curls. His lips twist into a maniacal grin, revealing small white teeth. His grip noticeably loosens around the wriggling green frog. Maisy, paralyzed by fear, is wide-eyed and whimpering softly in her chair. Eli is standing, looming over her. The room is unnervingly silent as the other students watch in horror.

“Eli, don’t!” you plead.

It’s too late. The frog tumbles from his opened hand. The panicked amphibian lands in Maisy’s frizzy red hair and instantly becomes tangled there. Maisy is screaming, you are screaming, everyone is screaming. Well...everyone but Eli. He points and cackles as you sprint to Maisy’s side and try to pull the frog out of her hair.

“Honey, don’t cry, it’s going to be okay!” you shout over the children’s shrieks as Maisy sobs, her face a frantic shade of pink, her freckled cheeks glistening with tears. At last you manage to free the frog, swiftly carry it to the open window, and let it leap from your palm into the bushes. You wipe your hands on your skirt, your brand new skirt, the skirt now marred with tears and amphibian slime and muddy frog footprints. And have I mentioned that you fucking hate frogs?

“It...was...on...my...HEAD!” Maisy heaves, waving her hands in disgust. The other children are trying to comfort her.

“Maisy, sweetheart, the frog is all gone now. Here, let me fix your hair for you...”

You get Maisy cleaned up and settle the class. Then you turn to your worst nightmare, your arch nemesis, the smug lurking face that keeps you up at night. He’s smiling in the shadowy corner of the room by the coat closet, prowling there like a wolf.

“Eli, come over here please.”

“Yes Miss Teacher.”

“I do have a name,” you say, but halfheartedly. No matter how many times you’ve introduced yourself since the school year started three weeks ago, the students always lapse back into calling you Miss Teacher. One of the many hazards of first grade.

Eli obediently approaches, but his smile never dies.

“Now, that was a very unkind thing you just did to poor Maisy. We don’t want to scare our friends. And we don’t want to bring outside animals into the classroom. They could have germs, or they could bite someone—”

“Frogs don’t have teeth,” Eli points out astutely.

You sigh. “Be that as it may, we cannot drop frogs on our friends. And I think Maisy would really appreciate an apology. Isn’t that one of our class rules, making sure we apologize if we hurt our friends’ feelings?”

You turn to the other students for support, and they nod enthusiastically.

“Can you do that for me and Maisy, Eli?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Maisy, I’m sorry I dropped the frog on your head.”

“That’s alright,” she replies, wiping her drying eyes. Such a prodigiously sweet child. They hug, the conflict seemingly forgotten. But Eli shoots you a mischievous smirk; he may have Maisy fooled, but you’re a bit shrewder. He’s not really all that sorry, and he’s likely already planning his next act of terror.

After you escort the kids to art class, you sit behind your desk and flip through the emergency contact notecards until you find Eli’s. The first person listed is his father. This is unusual; mothers are almost always the primary contact, especially in this neighborhood. Trophy wives stay home with the babies, dads trot off to their law firms or production companies to rake in the six-figure salaries, those are the unwritten rules. But dad is first on Eli’s card: Benjamin Whitaker Hardy. Actually, there’s no mother listed at all. You drum your fingers thoughtfully on the desk.

You dial Mr. Hardy’s number with your iPhone. It rings, but no one answers. At the tone, you leave a message.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hardy.” Benjamin Whitaker Hardy, what a pretentious fucking name, he’s a too-important-to-deal-with-his-own-kid corporate desk job guy for sure. “This is Miss Y/L/N, Eli’s teacher here at Dolphin Cove Elementary. I’ve been wanting to speak with you regarding some of Eli’s behavior in class, and I haven’t had much luck with the notes I’ve sent home.” Probably because Eli’s trashing them or burning them or casting voodoo spells with them or whatever demons-in-training do. “I’m hoping we can connect sometime soon and find a solution that works for everyone.” Perhaps an exorcism? “I look forward to hearing from you! Goodbye for now.”

You hang up, sip your Coke Zero, and check your watch. You have fifteen minutes of freedom remaining. You glance out the window to see if the frog is still in the bushes. Blessedly, there’s no sign of it.

After art is reading and writing, then it’s time for the kiddos to go home. You make sure no one forgets their folders or backpack as you corral your class into a semi-orderly line and follow them out to the pickup area. Buses and cars wait patiently as students trickle out of the building and scramble to the vehicle doors, shouting excitedly about the events of the day. “Mommy, I got a gold star in social studies!” “Nana, I had pizza for lunch!” “Mom, Maisy got a FROG dropped on her head!”

Winston—a shy, gentle boy with huge black-rimmed glasses and chubby arms full of library books—stumbles as he sprints for his bus. “Ow!” he moans, spilling his books across the sidewalk, clutching his left knee.

“Uh oh! Win, dear, let me help you.”

You rush to the boy’s side, lift him upright, and brush the dust off his pants. Oh fuck, if he goes home scraped and dirty I’m going to catch hell from the nanny. As you kneel next to Winston, there are footsteps behind you, and then a deep, unfamiliar voice.

“Hi, hello, sorry, Miss Y/L/N...?”

The mysterious voice is jarring: British, sophisticated, impossibly smooth. You are frozen for a moment, then you whirl and rise to your feet. He’s young, really young. Far too young to be a parent in a district where most people don’t start having kids until their late-thirties. He’s blond, green-eyed, fit. And he doesn’t look anything like an attorney or film producer. He looks like a goddamn J.Crew model. Wait, what did he say? Oh yeah, my name.

“Yes, I, uh...that’s me!”

He’s restless, shifting his weight from foot to foot, wearing an expertly-tailored black suit, impatient, arrogant even. “I think you left me a message earlier. I’m Eli’s dad.”

You blink at him. “You’re...his father? Not his tutor? Not the nanny?”

Benjamin Whitaker Hardy narrows his eyes at you. “No.”

“Oh.” This is not going quite the way you’d planned. “I’m sorry, I just...he doesn’t have an accent, and there’s not much of a resemblance, I didn’t make the connection. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“Yeah, he takes after his mother.” Mr. Hardy peers irritably around the pickup area, his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. He’s clearly inconvenienced by this conversation. “Sorry I couldn’t pick up my phone earlier, I was at a...” He waves his hand flippantly. “A work thing.”

You find your words in a rush: “Well I wanted to speak to you because your son is clearly extremely gifted and highly intelligent, but he caught a frog at recess and then dropped in on a classmate’s head and it was all pretty traumatizing for the girl, and he has an unfortunate habit of doing things like this, on Monday he tried to glue Winston to his chair, and last week he told Brayden that hamsters don’t go to heaven when they die and Brayden was inconsolable for hours, and then there was the time—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk to him.”

That’s all? Really?! “Mr. Hardy, I don’t mean to be overbearing, but this is quite a persistent problem and I’ve been hoping to speak with you at length about it and I really think it warrants a more detailed discussion—”

“Right,” he cuts you off in that posh British accent. “I actually have to run, but I’ll be in touch.”

I bet you will be. “Look, Mr. Hardy...” You lose your manners, just for a second. “I’m sure you’re a very busy man—there are lots of fantastically important people in this city—but you’re also a father. And I get the sense that your son is dealing with some very serious challenges at home that are causing him to act out here. I can’t fix that alone. I need your help.”

Mr. Hardy stares at you, stunned, simmering. Eli bolts out of the throng of students and collides into his father’s suit-clad legs, clasping them and giggling. “Hey, buddy!” Mr. Hardy gushes in a strikingly tender tone, ruffling Eli’s hair. Then, incredibly, his face softens as his jade eyes flick back up to you. “I get it. You have a job to do. And I bet you’re pretty great at it.”

He extends his hand, which is strong and perfect and meticulously manicured.

“Ben,” he offers.

“Y/N,” you reply, shell-shocked, as you grasp his hand.

“I really do have to rush off, though,” he says apologetically, already turning towards a black Lexus.

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll chat soon.”

“Cheers.”

You watch as Ben and Eli jog to the Lexus, disappear inside, and speed off, weaving hazardously through minivans and Land Rovers and buses. You tap your shoes—electric blue flats—against the sidewalk, pondering as laughing children breeze by.

“Awesome,” you whisper to yourself. “The dad is probably a demon too.”