#like oh wow your time management is terrible actually?? and that makes you feel bad about yourself???

[heartsburst]

me every time i kind of forget and leave something to the last minute: what if i gave up. what then.

[wayfayrr]

I see your human!reader and raise you: the Chain struggling to find food they can actually eat, reader feeling terrible and maybe a bit like a burden because of it, and getting into a dangerous situation in order to make it up to them

Source: the Owl House :)

I'm so sorry that this took so long to answer!! I've been quite busy recently but while I haven't watched the owl house I hope this does what you wanted justice, it got out of hand the more I wrote!!! I've heard it's great I just don't really watch shows :( Fair warning this got way more angsty then I planned for it too, with reader being pretty flippant about their own safety than they really should be, there's a brief not very detailed description of gore too. (it's also fairly wars centric towards the end)

[masterlist]

“[Name]! So wind and I’ve just been to the village right? I think I’ve finally found something I can cook that you should be able to eat! It was quite expensive but I’m sure it’ll be worth it for you!” 

“We looked around for ages, so if you can’t eat this then there might not be anything in Hyrule that you can eat!”

Wind means well with what he’s saying; I know that Wild does too, they don’t mean to make me feel bad - I think they don’t anyway. Not like they really need to try with how much of a burden to them I am. Buying expensive supplies just for me? When they’re already struggling to afford their own basic supplies, now I’m just adding unnecessary costs for them. Don’t get me started with the looks of pity they give me either. 

“Thank you both but, please don’t go spending so much on me.”

“But we have to find something you can eat, you’ll just be a… It’s not good for you to starve!”

That - that’s the closest any of them have gotten to saying it outright, they really do just see me as a burden - they aren’t even trying to hide it now. No wonder I’ve always been kept to the side in any fights, Hyrule can’t heal me so I’d just be deadweight if I got hurt, I can’t fight like they can really all I’m good for is as a meat shield to defend them from magic. “Hey [name], are you alright? You zoned out a bit there…”

“Oh, yeah I just - I think I just need to have some time alone if that’s alright? I’ll make sure to stay in distance of the camp.”

“As long as you’re careful and not there too long, I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll tell the others for you.”

I hope he doesn’t.

He seemed content with how I nodded at him, so I should be in the clear to go and just vanish for a while even if it’s just to pretend I’m not causing them issues for a little while.

It doesn’t feel like it takes me long to get to a nice place to sit, so it should still be pretty close to camp - not that they should be worried for me. Somewhere nice and open to sit next to a gentle babbling brook, it’s calm and I’m alone, everything I need at the moment.

Shit - how did I not see a sleeping lynel!? No no, not now I don’t even have a weapon! … What if I did kill it though - their parts can be sold for a fortune… I could pay my way and prove I’m not just useless. Even if I don’t - well they won’t have to worry about me in that case.

It hasn’t seemed to notice me yet, maybe there’s a chance I can come back from it. If I just stay low and as silent as I can then I should be able to jump it. 

Stay quiet, take its weapon. Wow, that’s a lot lighter than Wild makes it out to be. Now to just - Just go for its neck! I - I actually managed to slit its throat!

IT’S STILL ALIVE!?

Okay. OKAY! Its movements are sluggish and it seems to be bleeding out so just get away from it - 

Why - why can’t I feel my arm properly? Why is my shoulder so wet all of a -! The pain hit harder than a truck every nerve on my left side feels like it’s being set ablaze, there wasn’t a single hope of keeping in the scream I just let out, one I didn’t even realise had ripped its way from my throat. Tilting my head down to see the cause; suddenly my body feeling nothing but raw visceral pain suddenly makes a lot more sense than before. The stupid thing cut half through my shoulder with my arm now hanging limply by my side. 

“[NAME]! WHAT ARE YOU DOING - YOU’VE BEEN MISSING FOR HOURS - WHAT Did you - [name]!?”

Wars is here..? Didn’t Wild say I was going off for a bit? Why would he be looking for me? I can’t be worth so much that he’d go off on his own to look for me.

“Oh goddesses [name] what - no, no, no stay awake, you’ve got to stay with me darling.”

“‘m awake… ‘m - still ‘ere…”

Is that really what I sound like right now…  I sound so slurred… like - like how people on tv sounded when they were. Oh.

I’m bleeding out and delirious then, no wonder Wars is ‘here’, he’s just my brain giving me one last happy memory before I kick the bucket. Isn’t that wonderful, to spend my last moments hallucinating my unreciprocated crush caring for me. Closing my eyes feels all too easy, even when I’m about to drift off it still feels as if he’s holding me, maybe this won’t be too bad?

“[Name] don’t you DARE close your eyes, you - I’m not losing anyone else I care about - I can't lose you… I haven't even-”

A harsh slap to the face after a shaky breath - one that feels all too real - has me reconsidering things, the feeling of something tears dropping onto my face is the thing that finally has me opening my eyes despite how hard it is to do so. 

“I - I have some bandages, a potio- no that’s not going to help you I’ve got bandages I just need you to talk to me while I use them, so I know you aren’t close to passing out. You’re going to make it out of this - I need you to make it out of this.”

The agony of him adjusting my arm to bind it, well it’s proof that I am still very much alive. If he really wants me to talk… well then I might as well try to get some answers out of him.

“Why - why ‘re you - wh’ ‘d you come lookin’ fr me?”

“You - vanished for hours without a word, did you really think none of us would get worried? Even if none of the others would, I will always come for you.”

“Hm’ wild said he w’s gonna tell the rs’ o’ you… b’sides ‘m just a burden ‘nt I? Wil’ pretty muh said i’.”

“...Wild. but why would he risk - he wouldn’t put you in the… Don’t worry about what wild says he’s lying, you’re not a burden, even if you were. You’re one I would choose to carry every day for the rest of my life without a single regret. Don’t let what he says get to you, darling.”

Murderous, that’s the best way I could hope to describe the look on his face, it’s like he wants wild dead. His bandages seem to have stopped the bleeding though, so while I still feel lightheaded I should live as long as the wound doesn’t get infected. 

“Wai’ why’r you callin’ me darlin’? ‘M not - you’r…”

A little smirk crossed his face then barely lasting long enough for me to just notice it before it was replaced by concern, did I forget something, I mean it’s not impossible that I also hit my head right? Right?

“But you’re my partner, honeybee, we’ve been together for a few days now - you - you can’t have forgotten that right? If that’s the only price for you surviving, I mean we can always just make better memories. You - You’re still alive and that’s the most important thing.”

Well that’s not impossible, I know I’ve had feelings for him for a while so if he did ask I would’ve said yes…

“We can remake the memories later after you recover. You know I’m so glad that human blood flows slower than ours, those precious few extra seconds are literally lifesaving.”

He’s just babbling to himself now, must’ve been stressed over me; now that I’m safer it’s all just draining out of him. The way he’s clinging to me and shaking shows that fairly well too, like he doesn’t plan to let me out of his arms for a long while. 

“Please never do this ever again, I don’t even know what you were planning but you could’ve died [name], you could’ve died and I wouldn’t have had a chance to say goodbye. Please you have to explain why when you’re better. Please promise me you’ll tell me why.”

“I will Wars, I swear.”

“...That’s all I needed to hear, thank you darling.”

[humanmorph]

pal30 AND pal31. a package deal. i actually just forgot this post in my drafts last week & there's a lot of related stuff here anyways

30

A lot of people have talked about it and Number of the Beast is very scary to me. I've already seen people do math about the probability but even without that just listening I was like.... isn't that way too likely??! The wording of it too is so. Like it's cool flavor but it's also really awful... "If you ever roll 3 sixes you are killed in a spectacular fashion and are claimed by whatever terrible power most interested in your soul [...]" Hm. I'm frankly not sure how I feel about it. I guess, like always, it would depend on the framing it's given but just on paper it feels bad to think about Clem getting them after they finally managed to break free. I'm not even a Figure-head like some of my mutuals but I really really want to see them continue on this path (pal31 note: I love the new "Using this new lease on life on violence would be a waste" hook. It reminds me of Valence.) ... Also. Well. Still thinking about Austin being like wow finally I have someone onscreen for Perennial to communicate to (that isn't Clem). I want that too...

I'm not 100% on Armour Astir rules still but does the Investigator as a support playbook not have a mech? They don't, right? (I do HAVE the book, but I haven't closely read it, mostly skimmed over moves.) Of course a class like this has different advantages and I'm loving the Investigator so far but I WILL just miss Keith mech combat. He's so good at making really effective characters, but I guess Phrygian was kind of a high point for that (one-shot kills, baby!!!!! god. Phrygian ruled).

Speaking of Keith characters. The bit to get in the bathroom felt so much like being stuck in a point & click adventure game and you look around and talk to the person there & try like 3 things that don't work & then you go oh RIGHT I have this tool I forgot about because I never used it before! So that was fun to me. God I just enjoy Eclectic so so much.

And I really loved Keith losing it at the fact that the first thing he did was stalk a guy & follow him into a bath room. On a whim. It's sooooooooo funny I love you Eclectic it makes perfect sense to me Leap would be like yeah I trust this guy to handle this & send him. It just paints a picture that I like looking at. A lot (pal31 note: And he IS competent he does his job he's just also a weirdo. Just like Leap...)

I'm a bit. Hm. Connadine? I guess I should wait to see how that develops but it's kind of like... I guess don't want Jack's cool guy to be no-sold (?). I don't even think that's something I need to worry about, because Austin just wouldn't do that, but it was a thought/feeling I had and I want to catalogue it at the very least.

Other than that. Oh what great scene. I was cackling. "Bro's out here cruising" "Look, a clue's a clue"

EDIT: I don't think I took any notes on this but godddd the intro!!!! Who does it like Friends at the Table!!! Incredible work. I imagine it might've worked even better for ppl who hear that voice reguarly (I don't have tiktok & only watch ones on my dash basically). I also am... just kinda interested in the production/making of that tbh. I don't know how the tiktok thing works, but I know that with other voices like that it matters a lot how you type text because it can change intonation. And if it was put in as one text vs singular sentences, and if that changes anything? I mean it was edited for timing obviously, but I just wonder how much vs the initial input. Interesting to me.

31

Let's start with the Connadine business since that's what I ended on. It was good. I looooved the conversation on the rooftop. Eclectic's cracked face. Connadine's risk of "curious", Austin saying something like "it would be easier for him to not be curious about this person interrogating him". Likeeeee. OK. There was an energy. To me. There was. Which is just funny because it's never ever coming from Keith but his weirdguys are just so compelling to people around them aren't they... A SHORT ASIDE: read this good fanfic recently. grey to black by tenworms. And I already thought about ways synthetic beings can show intimacy or perform pleasure(...strange way to phrase it but it's what I've got rn) recently because I had Leap/Figure A on the brain for 4 days straight, just stuck up there (and it's a bit different there again because Leap is Equiaxed, right. And also I've developed specific opinions on their relationship or how they express it but anyways). All that to say idk what's up in that regard with Delegates, it may similar, it may even be a little weirder again because they're part Divine and maybe sometimes a little magic, but you know. At the very least. He COULD have fingered that old man ASIDE FINISHED Nevermind all that I read @/swallowtaileds post saying Eclectic should start a Gravity Clock with him and I would really love that! Great idea. He's got free spots anyways. Hopefully ensuring Connadine to show up again? Then again, he did sound like he thought it'd be best to get off-planet... Which doesn't necessarily mean /he/ plans to, but I would guess that was the case. I wouldn't want to see my replacement come in, but yknow. Hm!!!! Jack!!!!! (This is the second time in the past week a FatT episode has made me go "Jack!!!" in an incredulous tone. The first time was the introduction of the hole in Grandpa's Farm. Which is so concerning to me.)

It does feel kind of weird that the Paint Shop is just felled this uncerimonsoul unceremoniously (edit: I cant believe I forgot to fix that. This word has entirely too many vowels). Eclectic just did that... On his first mission out... and it wasn't even the mission he was on (!). And like, it makes sense for it to be that easy because it was literally planned and aided By the head of the Paint Shop. And I think this is something that will have the most interesting repercussions for the next faction game, and I have no doubt something really sick will come about with it. So while I don't really care for it now (funny factor aside. Love this for u Eclectic.) I'm taking it as a "wait and see" thing. Also like. What is Eclectic doing now. Like in this sortie? I guess he could keep investigating but he did already get some info.? And I don't know, but it doesn't extremely seem like the other side is gonna wrap up super quickly. I did just remember he still has like, all of his B-Plot points or whatever, so he should probably use those to help the rest of the crew, but also. I don't know it's like whatever happens he Already Basically Felled A Pillar (and Jade Kill most likely will do the actual felling, but come on).

Quick Gur mention: I cheered YES! out loud when Dre failed that roll (sorryyy) and then went Noooo..!!! a few minutes later when they rerolled and succeeded. Very funny for Gur to just pop in going "You can't simply leap into holes!!!" I love him soooo much. I'm back to hoping for Figure to fail rolls, and honestly it's bad for them to roll too well anyways, so really. Who's to say if that's bad or good.

And just bc of my recent Integrity post I have got to mention this: a scepter huh!!! A scepter! Just after losing(?) Dahlia, a ruler twice-over. Something to be held, or wielded. Something no longer in connection with its pilot! This Integrity does not demand intimacy. Or it won't have it, not from these people (reading @/madetolooklikeus' posts earlier)... I still have my thoughts on what I think is interesting to happen to/with Integrity but they have shifted substantially. I am sitting and stapling my fingers like that one guy and having thoughts...! HM!

EDIT: OH RIGHT actual plot stuff on the other side: Nideo huh. Well I'm suspecting STEREOMA I guess? Bad to hear about what Nideo has been up to on the moon though. Horrible in fact. Oh I really don't want that second clock to take something that isn't theirs to finish... Chimeric Cadent.... : (

New hooks and gravity clocks are over both these episodes so I'll just put it here. I already mentioned Figure's new hook above, and I really like it. And not to just repeat myself, but it DOES remind me of Valence. This would be an outlook they had. They could've said something like that. It is also just a direction many Dre characters go to, I think, but of course Valence stands out with the direct connection to this season via the last, and also of course to Brnine. (I know people always go on about character haunting a narrative and sometimes it's like nah that guy just died but Valence Truly For Real IS.) Speaking of Brnine. "I'm living on borrowed time, keep up their fight." is crazyyyyyy Brnineeeeee with the survivors guilt!!! Oh it's yummy. To me. It was a bit funny to me when they were like oh is that a plural they? and had a little hehe about it because I straight-up had not thought that it wasn't. ...It's of course very fun and tragic and sexy for it to be about just Valence but I WOULD like it to be about Phrygian and S.I. and other people they've had to leave behind too. I think that can both be true though too with the way Brnine avoids to even think of them(Valence). God. Living on borrowed time... I forget who said it, Dre or Ali, but it really does play nicely with Figures new hook. OH and then with the new Thisbe clock for Brnine!!!! Augh!!! "Brnine is capable but brittle. Their success and survival is the only way forward." Oh... and I wonder how Ali will word Brnines new clock for Thisbe on the other side. It's so interesting in the way she talked about it, how that relationship might differ now. I need it I want it to turn around in my head. God these two are truly just so. I will never ever forget about "Operant Broun lies to me because they believe I am a person." Janine is just so good at this.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

may 18, 2021 1:00 p.m. department of rheumatology, room 414

[grant] please tell me this is a temporary flare. i really don't know if i can go back to the way things were before i got diagnosed. i'm probably being paranoid and traumatized by last year's events but...i just feel back to square one. like i can barely stand up it's so bad.

[alisa] i completely understand the concern! you finally have the keys to get things managed after having uncontrolled symptoms since you were a child. of course you don't want to lose progress. we'll get to the conversation around disease progression but i promise you i will treat this now. easiest and best way to get you feeling better in just a week or two is oral steroids. you know the drill: suppress the immune reactions and the manifestations go away.

[grant] they make me feel terrible but i'm kind of desperate and beggars can't be choosers. i'll take whatever you give me.

[alisa] temporary side effects are better than suffering unmitigated for a long time, especially since you are doing so well on a biologic. why risk letting this go on when you can treat it?

[alisa] you're also welcome to take NSAIDs like aspirin for the anti-inflammatory properties and pain relief but...

[grant] ahh, you know, i would, just...well, i don't like...um, i don't feel comfortable with pain medication.

[alisa] oh, i understand. i'm not in the business of forcing them. they are helpful for autoimmune disorders but i do know that you are, um...how do i say this?

[grant] you can tell i used to be an addict?

[alisa] well, it's not like you admitted to it on any of your paperwork, but there is a pretty curious note in your chart from a surgeon that says you completely refused any pain medication after serious invasive spinal surgery...which is...

[grant] damning evidence?

[alisa] let's just say you'd need a very strong reason to refuse in that situation.

[grant] first of all, um, i am really sorry for not being honest about it. it's just embarrassing. for the record, totally don't recommend having spinal surgery without meds because it almost killed me and that was the last time i had something this bad going on with my eyes from stress. but um, same reason i don't want over the counter stuff right now. it's not a good idea. i got into all that because i was in pain and i really don't want that to be my solution...or my death.

[alisa] oh, no, no, i absolutely respect you for sticking to your sobriety. anyway, i really shouldn't have brought it up because short-term steroids for a flare is a better solution and you're already on the best long-term treatment and that's a biologic. you know, a disease inhibitor. for you, that's humira.

[alisa] besides that, you are supposed to have yearly x-rays and bloodwork in september. keep the appointment but we'll go through all that today as well. let's see how things look internally now.

[grant] i know i kind of asked you the same question a minute ago but do you think, even if this is temporary, that it might be active disease progression?

[alisa] this is the first time you've had a flare up since starting humira, right?

[grant] uhh, yes! it is, actually. thankfully.

[alisa] then i have hope you're not getting worse and this is just connected to stress like you said. i won't make an uninformed guess about what's going on since your last x-rays were the diagnostic images when you were diagnosed last june at...oh wow, cedars sinai in los angeles. long way from home, huh?

[grant] oh, yeah. i was living and working there at the time.

[alisa] but the evidence i do have is this. you started the medication in september when you were being treated in sault ste. marie. by the time you came to see me here in january, you were already seeing some symptom relief and no flare ups. and let's see, back when you were seeking a diagnosis, you were having significant symptoms, increasingly poor quality of life, and you needed extensive surgery from herniated disks and adjacent spinal cord issues...

[alisa] outside of today, how similarly do you feel today as you did then?

[grant] i mean...things are better. a lot better. i still have pain every day and limitations but my quality of life is definitely at least good. i kind of feel more like my old self and like treatment is working.

[alisa] exactly. this being the first time you've come to see me outside of normal check-ups bodes well for you. and to be honest, for a variety of reasons, you have a very aggressive disease manifestation. to be your age, not even thirty, and to this early on in life have really extensive spinal fusion from the disease...you know what i mean? half your spine has already fused itself together. if it were progressing at the same pace, you should hypothetically feel the same or worse and you should be suffering from similar problems as last year.

[alisa] whatever is going on internally we'll see in imaging, but if it means anything to you, i am at least confident that you're doing very well, even with this current flare up. i hate that i can't reverse the damage that's already been done or ever cure you, but i feel like we're making good progress and i feel hopeful that'll prove itself through physical evidence. if it doesn't, the fact that you say you have better quality of life on a normal day is great. any improvement is a good thing.

[kithtaehyung]

Ryen, I have read 3tan window and the first thought was ‘wow’.

Unlike my fellow readers, I am not usually a lover of all things chaos (though I don’t blame them) but this was a hearty exception. So much to unpack and you did the majority of it all in one room. Honestly that’s what impresses me most, you manage to make something so real and detailed out of something so confined and simple.

The two of them together just make so much sense. The switch in… attitude? in the middle of the sex scene felt like a metaphor to me but I don’t know it that was your intention.

As much as I said I related to Yoongi in all the previous chapters (can’t wait to see what you think of that review), which I do a painful (it’s healing) amount, I actually found myself relating to your main character more this time.

I also don’t really do holidays for various reasons. But seeing main character go through these emotions felt so normalizing. We shouldn’t treat people like crap simply because we’re in moods but sometimes it just takes that one person to snap us back to reality. People have histories that stick and his sincerity when responding to her’s was so deep.

Seriously, the emotional parts of this story are making my brain so soft. It makes me feel weirdly confident. I don’t know what else to say, you know? I’m usually terrible at emotions but 3tan makes me want to talk more for some reason.

I really appreciate you for writing these things out because this is the most human story (I really feel it could be a novel). I’m giving you and all your readers a very brief group hug (consent permitting, of course) because I really do enjoy it here.

Thank you - 🎷

oh my gosh, sax!! :')) this is damn amazing. wow. (ironically, the same reaction you had to window lol)

i'm glad you were okay with all the chaos that unfolded in this part! and you're right, this was pretty much a bottle episode until the ending scenes since all the "outside" ones before that were flashbacks. you know.. i didn't even realize that until reading this commentary the first time. you're so observant that you noticed something i didn't lmfao you're amazing.

the switch in attitude was certainly intentional! they both went from holding on to their frustration and using that, to finally coming to the deeper intimacy after yoongi knew reader understood what he was trying to say the whole time. and i shall get to your review - which i am excited about! - but this one is super cool to see you relating to reader. bc these things are universal, whether you see yourself in yoongi, or reader, or even both.

normalize not being okay with the holidays and accepting that there are people that don't do them!! especially if they have bad situations surrounding them. but also, yes, we need to be aware that our emotions can get the best of us and burn people we don't really intend to. it's all about gaining that awareness and learning from it.

i'm glad it's making you confident. my hope for this story is for it to show people that we just need to communicate more. both sides. bc relationships are built on words most of the time, and the quicker we hash things out or say what we want or don't want, the more productive it becomes.

a novel? oh, wow.. that's huge praise. thank you (and i'll take the group hug)<3 i enjoy having you here, as well, and this review made me smile multiple times. thank you so much for all the commentary and onto all the rest of this ride!

[doctorguilty]

J

I've actually found it most productive to just straight up lie about my disordered sleep schedule to most doctors and mental health professionals because otherwise they get so hung up on that they refuse to treat any of my issues "until I practice better sleep hygiene", they will not listen when I talk about how poor living environments impact that beyond what is immediately fixable, they will not listen when I say even when I had jobs on and off for years that required me to have a normal sleep schedule, working like 9 to 5's eating breakfast in the morning lunch in the afternoon and dinner at night I STILL ABSOLUTELY suffered from migraines, chronic body pain, depression, fatigue and so on, like not having a good sleep routine can certainly exasperate issues, but they have ALWAYS been there, and are exasperated by more things than just a sleep schedule. And the thing is even if I fixed it all sleep crap tomorrow (which I can't) I'd come back to my provider and say "Ok it didn't fix me. Treat my symptoms now." So I've decided to just skip the begging to be helped and the humiliation of pleading my case and just say "yep I go to bed on time I get up in the morning :)" and that's it like that box is checked off simple as that I don't have to spend months getting nothing done about my ailments

And I think it's shit anyway because it's like!!! Okay even IF, say, I'm experiencing [symptom] because of not sleeping properly, again it's like, I CANNOT CHANGE the environment that is causing that, that is a LONG TERM GOAL, but UNTIL THEN I don't want to endlessly suffer? I would like to be provided with something to help me survive? I encounter this the most of with mental health stuff, especially pleading my case for my benzos because of debilitating panic attacks and they're like "well you need to work on mindfulness and coping skills" like great I'm working on that in therapy and certainly you must be aware these things take some time? And are very much impacted by poor living environments as well? So in the MEANTIME, so I don't kill myself before my coping skills develop, I'd like the proper medication.

And sometimes it would be about pain as well like, oh being on your feet for 8+ a day and doing all that strenuous work is causing your pain, you'd be in less pain if you got a different job. wow who would have thought. Unfortunately I need to pay my rent so I don't become homeless so.

Like it just bothers me so much that "symptom management" is not a reasonable concept to practitioners, especially when said symptoms contribute to the cycle like!!! Ok I'm in so much pain even if I go to bed on time I toss and turn all night long and sometimes can't get back to sleep, this pain and lack of sleep quality contributes to my depression, and my depression impacts my ability to get out of bed and do chores and make food, so then I'm not getting enough nutrition, which contributes to my body feeling terrible, jhggjmhhf sorry but you gotta start with something here 😐 hello.

Anyway that brings me back to why i just lie about my sleep schedule now because omg you're going to bed on time and still feed bad? We better do something about it! 😱

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

Woooo, let’s keep going.

1.) “Hey there.” Hey, Nancy.

2.) Steve frees himself by biting.

3.) I know people love to make Eddie horny about the bite and swing and like, they’re right.

4.) The wounds actually aren’t that bad.

5.) Rabies are scary but it does take a while for symptoms to set in.

6.) Steve’s job this season has been at least 70% saying shit that will be disproven immediately afterward.

7.) Say it with me: torture doesn’t work. And also why would this agent have the exact location anyway?

8.) How many times are we gonna see this stupid can of coke?

9.) Oh Owens sort of has a spine.

10.) Usually people aren’t so easily defined but sometimes they are. El is not a monster but you are, Brenner.

11.) “This place is not a prison, this is,” Brenner says as he taps El’s head. Okay I rolled my eyes hard enough I remembered I haven’t eaten yet today and I paused the show to eat. I cannot keep watching this moron on an empty stomach. I refuse. Oh dear fucking god. This episode is 1 hour and 41 minutes???? I have an hour and a half left oN THIS EPISODE?? FUCK YOU.

12.) idk why Bremer thinks it’d be bad to be like, “You didn’t massacre a bunch of kids.” Unless he actually is stupid enough to think she did it.

13.) Dustin is a terrible liar. And while lying to the cops is technically a crime, it is morally right.

14.) Steve is not fine, he’s falling over.

15.) Duffers, I do not want Steve and Nancy to date again and you ca’t make me.

16.) How’d Eddie manage to climb up that fallen tree without stepping on a vine but now needs to be extra careful climbing down?

17.) ‘FOr your modesty, dude’. Jealous.

18.) I love Steve in the vest and so does Eddie.

19.) Hopper wishing wistfully for El to come into her own while she’s in a place with Brenner is so sad.

20.) “Maybe I can still help El, even if it’s the last thing I do.” Hopper is the reason why I think El has to survive this show. For him. Because Hopper needs to know he’s not cursed. Because he doesn’t deserve to have another daughter die.

21.) Murray and Yuiri do not look THAT much alike, y’;all.

22.) Two, maybe don’t make yourself an obvious target.

23.) That was fucked up. Torturing kids is evil.

24.) All 3 saved Steve but Eddie’s the one Steve narrows in to thank.

25.) Steve is so pleased to find out Dustin bragged about him. Eddie thinks Steve is a good dude. That’s like, huge praise from Eddie.

26.) I feel bad for the Duffers trying to even have Eddie be like ‘soooo Nancy and you?’ And almost none of the fans were like ‘yes, Steve and Nancy.’ Straight guys don’t stand this close together usually, guys. And they usually don’t stare into each other’s eyes.

27.) Thank God, the earthquake interrupted the script desperately trying to hook up a couple that doesn’t work.

28.) Erica found gay porn under Lucas’ bed, right?

29.) I love Lucas and Erica.

30.) Wait is it now being decided that El opening a gate requires contacting a monster in the Upside Down????

31.) No guns and Nancy figures out they’re in the past, specifically November 6th, 1983.

32.) Steve hears Dustin. Because they’re buddies. Flipping the switch does something. There’s now shimmery light on the chandelier.

33.) Eddie knows SOS. <3

34.) Wow, RUDE, Dustin.

35.) MURRAY STOP PLAY ACTING IN THE FUCKING CELL. OH MY GOD.

36.) Okay they’ve never met Yuri before.

37.) Murray is so fucking worried and he should be. Oh, Joyce recognizes that sound.

38.) IDK why the other kids are blaming El. Brenner literally said she didn’t talk. Two gave himself away by being a moron.

39.) CHESS. I one time started to learn Chess on a Simmons board and never was as good on a normal board as I was on that.

40.) WHY DO THE OTHER KIDS HATE EL SO FUCKING MUCH????? WHY HAS BRENNER BEEN PLANNING IT??????? NONE OF THE RAINBOW ROOM SHIT MAKES ANY GODDAMN SENSE.

41.) This better be Henry lying because if not, this isn’t Brenner playing chess, this is a pigeon shitting on a chessboard.

42.) Damn, they covered that board fast.

43.) Eddie and Steve commiserating on Dustin being a butthead.

44.) My roommate reminded me that there are syndication rules and so the reason the seasons are so breakneck and short in terms of episode numbers is so the show isn’t available for syndication. That’s why we’re getting a full ass movie length episode every episode this season. So Netflix can screw people.

45.) BIKES. Steve should be wincing when he moves though, let alone biking.

46.) Max is the best.

47.) “Oh, pigs, oh PIGS. Let Officer Callahan in.” One, who are you calling pig, pig? Two, are you comparing yourself to the big bad wolf?

48.) Erica MY NEW FAVORITE CHILD. DID YOU SLASH A COP’S TIRE? I’VE NEVER BEEN PROUDER.

49.) Four bikes.

50.) Is no one monitoring the cameras here?

51.) Has anyone done an AU where Henry was genuine in his help?

52.) Let’s see how bad this CGI demogorgon is. But of course the lighter isn’t working.

53.) FOr a demogorgon that is being routinely fed, this one looks scrawny. Also yeah, the CGI is bad.

54.) Okay why would the guard open the door, Murray? There’s a monster that will kill him.

55.) Of course the fire goes out just as the door is closing.

56.) nICE THROW, HOP.

57.) Aw, Hopper and Joyce reunited.

58.) How fucking close to the trailer park is Creel house????

59.) Bada Bada Boom. The gate is open and they can care each other.

60.) I just realized I don’t know why El was in a hospital gown this entire time? None of the other kids wear one.

61.) Henry goes from ‘powers blocked’ to ‘complete control’ in like 10 seconds.

62.) Eddie why did you bring up the stains? Also those are huge. Are you just jerking off directly onto your bed????

63.) Robin and then Eddie. Try not to stare at Eddie’s ass, Steve. And then Nancy does get to falling, but falls into a vision. Wait how is she standing on the ground again?

64.) Oh now she sees Barb in the pool. This is the first time she’s seen this though. So Nancy seeing this now makes sense. She would now know it’s the pool. I just don’t think any of them know until this season though.

65.) El literally missed so much murder hiding in a closet. And now she’s going down the very flickers hallways to find the Rainbow Room completely decimated. She literally missed ALL the murders except for Two’s.

66) Why is Henry so powerful? How did he even get his powers? What even is his motivation????? Why does this character make no goddamn sense?????

67.) Sweet of Vecna to give Nancy a full villain hallucination backstory. Are we literally trying to say Henry/Vecna/One was a child psychopath or something? Why was there a nest of black widows in a vent? What’s this got to do with anything? God, this character is dumb and pretentious.

68.) ?????? I’d argue black widows also operate under the wake up, work, eat, reproduce, sleep, die cycle even more than humans do.

69.) Okay so he was just an evil child. An evil, judgmental child. Why? Because fuck you, that’s why.

70.) Why would killing people make him stronger???

71.) Literally why would Henry think Eleven is better than the rest of the kids?????

72.) Why would El need to think about any memories other than the fucking DOZENS OF CORPSES SHE’S GONE PAST?

73.) fucking what????????? Is El REMEMBERING BEING BORN? FUCKING WHAT? I’M SORRY. WHAT? I FUCKING HATE THIS SHOW. THIS IS SO STUPID. I CAN’T BELIEVE THE THING THAT HELPS HER BEAT HENRY THE FIRST TIME IS REMEMBERING HER OWN GODDAMN BIRTH. Also! HEY, not to be a party pooper BUT NEWBORNS CAN’T REALLY FUCKING SEE MORE THAN 6 INCHES AWAY FROM THEIR GODDAMN FACE.

74.) Honestly how did Henry/Vecna/One survive El doing that? Like he’s just falling around in the sky and getting struck by lightning too???? None of this makes any goddamn sense. Not even in this world.

75.) YEAH, I KNOW HENRY IS VECNA. YOU DIDN’T NEED TO SHOW THE TATTOO. Although. How does he still have the tattoo and why is it bigger? God, you guys really think 14 year olds are morons.

I need too take a break from this show. It’s so stupid. Oh my god.

[steppedladder]

a friendly match

[Technoblade shifts carefully on his feet. He’d never admit it, but the “disguise” Skeppy gifted to him threw off his sense of balance, to the point that he had to reteach himself how to fight with an unfamiliar weapon. He’s not the most maneuverable in the orchard his opponent forced him into, either, the stony ground and low, apple-burdened branches a bad fit for his build. In any case, he can’t afford to lose focus now.

Banter’s not off the table, though. Technoblade pitches his voice into the trees, where his opponent hides (coward), voicing a few of his thoughts. “I feel like we know each other from somewhere, yeah. Though I feel like I’d recognize a slippery guy like you at Hypixel.” He turns slowly, keeping his back to one of the old orchard’s trees, trying to pinpoint the sound of a bow drawing.

TapL’s reply jingles downward. “I’m a bit of an UHC guy myself!” he says, and Technoblade hears his bow relax from the complete opposite direction. No fair. “I’ve won my fair share of tournaments too!” TapL adds, cheekily.

The voice came from behind Technoblade this time. Gee, he thinks. I wonder how.

Wait. Would this mean... “So one of the Hypixel gods picked you out for a quest?” Technoblade asks.

“Well...” TapL says. The rustling branches stop, as if he’s embarrassed. “Not that many have actually contacted me.”

“What?! Why?” With the number of Hypixel gods there are, winning a tournament is practically a guarantee that someone will take notice of you. If that’s not the case...

TapL’s voice pitches back up, crystal clear, from somewhere behind him. “Oh, don’t worry!” he assures, and Technoblade leaps back to avoid TapL’s trajectory as he suddenly leaps down from the canopy. “It’s not as bad as it seems!” Technoblade gets a brief glimpse of a roiling mass of colors and forms that makes his head spin, then barely manages to block a sword strike, diamond against enchanted diamond, because the figure who leapt down from the trees isn’t TapL. It’s himself.

His double — who Technoblade now realizes, glancing at his glittering golden earrings, must be TapL — disengages with a graceful leap back, balancing with Technoblade’s long limbs as if he’s had them his whole life. TapL rests his copied sword, plain diamond, on his palm, and raises his eyebrows. “Cool, right?”

Technoblade tunes out TapL’s commentary (“Oh wow your eyesight is terrible”) and shifts his grip on his sword. This kind of power... “Anyone?”

“Anyone!” TapL confirms cheerfully, earrings glittering as he twirls his copied sword by the handle. It seems lighter than it should be. “Well, except gods,” he stipulates, the mess of colors and shapes engulfing his body as he returns to his typical form.

Technoblade recovers from his shock with a huff. “Lame,” he says, moving into a ready stance.

“And that fancy sword of yours, incidentally,” TapL adds, hurrying to dodge Technoblade’s sword strike — “Congrats, by the way!” — and catch the hilt in the crook of his knife. In a single movement, he disarms Technoblade and throws a weakness potion at his head.

Technoblade covers his mouth too late, and the potion’s effects set in almost immediately. “Ugh,” he says, over the wave of artificial fatigue. “What for?”

“Why,” TapL says sweetly, diamond knife at Technoblade’s throat. “the Quest, of course!”

(hot tears and a shadowy figure, brilliant flames consuming everything of his except the clothes on his back)

Technoblade shivers. The potion must be getting to him, he thinks, staring down the dully shining blade.

He slumps in defeat. “Aw, what the heck,” he says. TapL radiates smugness.

“Heh. 10 to 8!” he crows, allowing Technoblade back into a sitting position as he twirls his blade.

“GG, GG.” Technoblade’s head spins, so he takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes. “Urgh. Got any milk?”

“Sure.” TapL hands him a flask. Tusks become inconvenient when drinking from a typical mouthpiece, and Technoblade awkwardly tries not to spill anything. A few drops run down his chin anyway. Oops.

TapL’s voice drifts, weirdly flat, from somewhere to his left. “‘s a real nice sword.”

“Yeah?” Technoblade coughs. He drank too fast. “Thanks.”

Back turned to Techno, TapL’s grip on the hilt of the sword trembles.

(After their match, TapL gets an idea. “Y’know, I could probably teach you...”

Hmm. Needs salt, Philza thinks to himself. It’s Will’s turn to cook dinner, and he tends to under-season. Philza turns toward the fire. “Hey Will, can y-”

Philza chokes and nearly spills his food down his shirt as three Wilburs, all tending to the pot, look up in unison. “Yes?” they chime, and Philza’s soul leaves his body.) fin. ]

[waitimcomingtoo]

Wicked Game ~ T.H

pairing: frat! Tom Holland x Reader

chapter three: slow and steady

series masterlist

Tom saw you that Monday for your date, and again on Tuesday for early morning coffee. When you didn’t answer his texts the following Wednesday and Thursday, he called you. You were walking to class when you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“Tom?” You laughed in surprise when you picked up the phone.

“Hi. Is it okay that I’m calling?”

“Yeah, of course. I just wasn’t expecting it. A boy hasn’t called me since like 6th grade. You know, back when that was still a normal thing to do.” You teased him.

“I know. I just wanted to hear your voice. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.” He replied and you could hear his smile through the phone.

“I know. I’m sorry. I had a lot of work to do this week. And I’m terrible at replying.”

“You know what I do when I have a lot of work?”

“What’s that?” You laughed, having a feeling you knew his answer.

“I don’t do it.” He replied, making you laugh even more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gone to school without my homework done.” You told him as you played with the straps of your backpack.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gone to school with my homework done. Do you know any hot tutors who’d be willing to help me out?” He flirted through the phone.

“I don’t know.” You smiled coyly. “What’s your major again?”

Tom went silent on the other line and you stopped walking.

“Tom? What’s your major?“ You asked again.

“I have no idea.” He admitted. “Sports management I think?”

This time, you were the one who went silent. You slapped a hand over your mouth to try and muffle your laughter.

“Darling? You still there?”

“Sport’s management?” You asked. “What even is that?”

“I don’t know.” He playfully whined. “I just picked it because it had sports in the title.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “That’s so bad. That’s even worse than I thought.”

“All right, genius.” He teased. “What’s your major?”

“Biomedical engineering with a minor in women’s, gender and sexuality studies.”

“Wow. I knew like three of those words. Tops.”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” You explained. “It’s the combination of biology and engineering. I want to help improve medical equipment to advance healthcare treatment across the world.”

“Wow. I think all I could do with my degree is become a football coach.” Tom replied, making you laugh again. He grinned on the other side of the line, loving the way he could make you laugh.

“Hey, that’s still important.” You told him, making him smile even more.

“You’re so smart.” He sighed. “You’re like the smartest person I ever met.”

“Aw.” You smiled shyly. “Thanks.”

“I wish I was more like you. You have goals and ambitions. You want to help people. All I do is chug beer through my butt.”

“Do you actually do that?” You asked him. “Because you joke about it a lot. I’m starting to get suspicious.”

“I promise I don’t.” He chuckled. “Unless you would date a guy who would. Then I do. All the time. I’m doing in right now in fact.”

“You’re such an idiot.” You laughed, taking notice of the way he implied he wanted to be the kind of guy you’d date.

“Yeah. Hopefully not too much of an idiot to be with a biological-“

“Biomedical.” You corrected with a laugh.

“Right. Biomedical.” He smiled when he heard your laugh. “I hope I I’m not too much of an idiot for a biomedical engineer.”

“I don’t think you are.” You replied. You were outside your class now but you didn’t want to hang up. Tom was working up the courage to ask you to officially be his girlfriend and your last two answers made him feel like you’d say yes. Before he could say anything else, Brad came into his room.

“Dude. Does this look infected to you?” Brad asked as he lifted up his shirt.

“Gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tom said quickly and threw his phone on the bed.

“Who was that?” Brad asked as he lowered his shirt.

“No one. It was just Y/n.”

“Bro.” Brad laughed in surprise. “Shark Week called you? This chick is like scary obsessed.”

“I know right? Who calls people anymore?” Tom forced a laugh as his eyes darted to the side.

“I feel bad for you, bro. You got the worst deal in this bet. Shark Week sounds horrible to deal with. How do you put up with her?” Brad asked as he leaned against Tom’s wall. Tom gulped and looked down at his phone. He really liked you, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit that.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess I just do.”

“Damn.” Brad shook his head. “So about my rash.”

Two weeks later

Since you were always busy during the week, Tom picked up the habit of meeting you after class to walk with you around campus. No matter what day it was or what time your classes got out, Tom was always there to walk with you. You thought he’d get bored of this after the first few days, but he was still there to greet you every day after two weeks.

“Damn. He let you out late today.” Tom said as you walked out of your building. He immediately took the books in your hands and carried them as he always did. His old fashioned chivalry was the last thing you expected from a frat boy, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“It was my fault.” You told him. “We started talking about covalent bonds and I carried away.”

“Oh. Talking about covalent bonds with your professor, huh? Should I be jealous?” Tom teased as he walked beside you.

“Ew.” You laughed. “My professor is like 70. And he smells like moth balls.”

“Good. Because I can’t have him moving in on my girl.” He said and he shot you a wink. You looked down at the ground and turned your face a little so he wouldn’t see the childlike grin that broke out on your face.

“Oh, I’m your girl?” You raised your eyebrows. “But I’m not even wearing your weird little gray hat.”

“It’s blue today.” He playfully rolled his eyes and pointed to his hat. “Wow. I spent all day getting ready to see you and you don’t even notice my hat. That hurts, darling. That really hurts.”

“Well maybe I was busy looking at what’s beneath your hat.” You shrugged, trying your best to flirt back but you were slightly out of your element. Tom let out a loud gasp and looked around for who might be listening.

“My penis?” He whispered loudly and gave you a disapproving look.

“No!” You laughed and shoved him. “Not that far beneath your hat, dummy.”

“Oh, I see.” Tom nodded. “You were talking about my incredibly handsome face, weren’t you?”

“Actually I was talking about your receding hair line. But face is close enough.” You replied with a sweet smile. Tom’s jaw dropped at your insult and he shoved you back.

“Wow.” He laughed. “You are evil, my darling. You look like a daydream but you are a nightmare. This is the last time I walk you to class.”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that. As much as I love having you walk me to my classes, and I do, don’t you have any classes you should be attending?”

“I don’t really go to class.” Tom shrugged.

“You don’t? Then what do you do all day?”

“Wait for you.” He said like it was obvious. He was the first guy to treat you this way. You thought boys like him, boys who always knew what to say to make you smile, only existed in the movies. Something about him felt too good to be true, and you worried he was exactly that. Even if that was the case, you decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

“Well I appreciate that. Thanks for walking me to class. And for always carrying my books. I’m kinda a sucker for old fashioned gestures.”

“What do you mean by old fashioned?”

“You know. Like what guys used to do in the olden days. Carry a girls books, bring her flowers, open the door for her, ask her to go steady. Things like that.”

“What exactly does it mean to “go steady” with someone?” Tom chuckled. “I’ve always wondered.”

“It means you’re both agreeing to commit to a serious relationship.” You explained. “You’re in it for the long game. You don’t see other people. You don’t play games. You just have a consistent, steady relationship.”

“Good to know.” He smiled. “And just so you know, I’m totally gonna bring you flowers one day. Because now I know that’s the way to your heart. I’m gonna bring you so many flowers that your room gets infested with bees.”

“I love bees.” You smiled.

“I know you do. You told me that on our first date. You said you loved them ever since you were a kid because you went on a field trip to a bee colony and found out that they made honey. And you loved honey. So by association, you loved bees.”

“I forgot I told you that.” You smiled softly. “You’re a good listener.”

“I’m a terrible listener, darling.” He admitted. “I just really like you.”

Your hands had been bumping against each other’s the entire walk and this time, he slipped his hand into yours. You bit back a smile as you walked in comfortable silence towards your next class. When you got there, you felt more disappointed than usual that your time together was ending.

“This is me.” You sighed and looked at the building.

“This is you?” Tom frowned and looked at the building. “And here I was thinking you were this pretty girl. Turns out you’re an old brick building.”

“I honestly think that was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.” You grimaced and took a step closer to him.

“It made you smile though. I consider that a win.” He smiled as he closed the gap even more.

“I wasn’t smiling. I was cringing.” You teased him and he cupped your face in his hands.

“Yeah? Well you still looked pretty doing it.” He said before connecting your lips in a kiss. You smiled against his lips, still not fully believing that this was your reality. A frat boy was the last kind of guy you ever imagined you’d be interested in, but here you were.

“I get out at 3:20.” You told him once you pulled away. “Do you want to hang out after?”

“Will I get to kiss you some more if I say yes?“ He asked as he played with your fingers.

“You might.”

“Then it’s a date.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss you again.

“Great. So I’ll meet you after class and then we can go to your house.” You suggested, making Tom’s smile fall. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of bringing you around his frat brothers. Any one of them could slip up and tell you about the bet before Tom got a chance to.

“Do you mind if we go to your dorm instead? The frat house is being fumigated.” Tom lied and felt guilty about doing it.

“Again?” Your eye widened. “But sure. Peyton’s home for the weekend anyway. We’d have the place to ourselves.”

“Woah woah, wait. Peyton’s gone all weekend?” He smirked. “You know pretty girl, I hate to think of you in your dorm all alone. What if one of those giant campus rats come to attack you?”

“I’ll be okay. Maybe it’ll be the kind of rat that can cook.”

“What?” Tom frowned. “What kind is that?”

“What? You haven’t seen Ratatouille?”

Tom shook his head and your eyes winded in surprised.

“We’re watching it. It’s settled.”

“But I thought we were gonna watch Scott Pilgrim vs. The World to see our favorite manic pixie dream girl.” He reminded you.

“We can watch both. Make a night of it.” You suggested, making Tom’s excitement grow.

“Okay. Sounds good to me, darling.” He smiled and took his hat off his head. He placed it on top of your head and you gave him a confused look.

“There. Just in case anymore professors try and steal you from me.” He teased as he fixed the hat.

“Good call.” You laughed. You waved goodbye to him and started walking towards your class, unable to fight the smile on your face.

When Tom met you outside your class later that day, he noticed you were still wearing his hat. He broke out into a grin at the sight of you in it. It wasn’t much, but it meant you were as invested in this thing as he was.

“You’re still wearing my hat!” He smiled as you walked up to him. He ran the rest of the way and scooped you up in a tight hug to greet you.

“Put me down.” You laughed. “You’re like a hyperactive golden retriever sometimes, I swear.”

“That describes me so well.” He said as he put you down. “You’re so smart. What’s your GPA again?”

“4.4.” You smiled shyly. Tom’s eyes widened and he bent over to process that information. He wrapped an arm around you infe he stood back up and started walking towards your dorm.

“Yo, my girl has a 4.4 GPA.” Tom bragged to a stranger you passed on the sidewalk.

“Stop it. It’s not that big of a deal.” You laughed shyly as he continued to tell more people you walked by.

“It’s a huge deal. Oh my God. You’re incredible, darling. My GPA is probably like a 1.8.”

“Because you don’t go to class.” You reminded him. “Or do homework.”

“Because that stuff is boring.” He whined.

“Then why did you come to college?”

“For the parties. Duh.” Tom smirked at you and pulled you closer. “Now come on. I wanna see this rat who can cook.”

You intertwined your fingers with the hand he had around your shoulders and led him to your dorm. Tom had been living in the frat house since he was a freshman, so he hadn’t been inside the dorms before. He looked around as if he was in a museum as you led him through the halls. You were both very aware of the many stares you got as you walked down the hallway. Seeing you with a frat boy was the last thing anyone in your dorm expected.

“So what’s first on the agenda? Rata booyah?” Tom asked as he sat on your bed.

“It’s Ratatouille.” You laughed. “And we can start that now if you want.”

“If I want? That sounds like there are other options.” Tom smirked as you sat beside him.

“Maybe there are.” You shrugged as you avoided eye contact with him. Tom sensed your nerves and gently placed his hand on your knee.

“We don’t have to do anything. We can just put on the movie.” He said in a soft tone. You gave him an appreciative smile and put your hand on top of his. You stared at his face for a moment and decided to seize the moment.

“Yeah. Let’s just put on the movie.” You said as you leaned in to kiss him. Tom was quick to kiss you back as he cupped your face with his hands. The hat he’d put on your head fell to the floor as he laid you down on the bed. You tangled your fingers in his hair as you kissed him, something you’d been wanting to do again since the night of the party. His fingers unbuttoned the buttons of your cardigan and you felt his hand slip underneath your shirt. It was new, but you welcomed it. You slipped your hands under his jersey and scratched down his back, making him groan in your mouth. Tom began to trail kisses down your neck and just as he was about to unbutton your pants, you sat up.

“Wait.” You grabbed his hand and held it back as you struggled to catch your breath. Tom immediately retracted his hands and scooted back to give you some space.

“Sorry. Can we just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain yourself. You hugged your cardigan tighter around your body and drew your legs closer to yourself.

“You need to stop apologizing, darling.” Tom said softly as he rubbed your knee.

“I know. I just didn’t want you to be disappointed if you just came here to….you know.”

“I actually came here because I was promised to see a rat who can cook?” Tom said as he scratched the back of his head. “I’m not really sure when he’d be arriving? I was just kinda promised there would be a cooking rat and I have yet to see him. I was honestly thinking about him the entire time we were making out and I’d just really like to see him, please.”

“Tom.” You laughed and covered your face in embarrassment.

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “It’s kinda rude to wave this magical cooking rat in my face and then not show him to me.”

You laughed again and felt all the tension leave your body. Tom noticed you relaxing and let out a content sigh.

“You always know what to say.” You said once your laughter died down.

“I don’t. I just say the dumbest thing I can think of and hope it makes you smile. Because no offense, you have a really beautiful smile. Best I’ve ever seen, really.”

You broke into a smile and shook your head at him. He could he unbelievably sweet when he wanted to be, and you loved every minute of it.

“All right. I’ll show you the rat. You earned it.” You sighed ostentatiously and grabbed your laptop. Tom crawled next to you in the bed but gave you some distance. You looked over your shoulder at him as an idea formed in your head. You sat up on your knees and situated yourself between his legs, wiggling your butt a little to make some more room for yourself. Tom blushed in surprised and wrapped his arms around you to get even closer. You placed the laptop on your tummy and hit play on the movie. You stayed in Tom’s arms until it was over and looked up at him when it was done.

“So what did you think?”

“It was good, yeah. It was good.” He nodded as he wiped his face with his hand.

“Are you crying?” You laughed and craned your neck to look at him.

“Are you judging me? That was a cinematic masterpiece. I never knew a rat could make me feel so much.”

“Here. Sorry I put you through that.” You chuckled and handed him a tissue from your nightstand.

“Don’t be sorry. I had a really good time.” He smiled down at you and hugged you closer to his body.

“So did I.” You sighed and relaxed against his chest. You stayed in his arms as the two of you talked until the sun began to set. You dragged your fingernails up and down his arm as you listened to him speak.

“Tell me something no one else knows about you.” You said as you looked up at him.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Something real. Something like - like who’s your favorite Alvin and the chipmunk?”

“I don’t know.” He laughed. “The blue one.”

“The blue one? Simon?”

“I don’t know their names.” He whined. “It wasn’t very popular in England.”

You laughed again and pulled your laptop back onto your lap. You typed something into Google and showed Tom what came up.

“These are the chipmunks.” You said as you pointed to the screen. Tom frowned and pulled your laptop closer to get a better look.

“I kinda hate the green one.” He said after a minute. “Like, I want to see him die.”

“Tom.” You laughed and sat up to look at him.

“I’m just saying. Look at him. He’s horrible. I want to punt him across a football field.”

You laughed again and covered your face with your hand.

“Don’t cover up.” He whined. “I want to see your pretty face.”

He moved your hands away from your face and replaced them with his own. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips and before you knew it, he was kissing you. It wasn’t like the kiss from before, though. It was slower and sweeter and caused butterflies to erupt in your chest. When you pulled away, you smiled shyly and rested your forehead against his.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You asked as your fingers toyed with his sleeve.

“Sure. Anything.” Tom replied as his eyes gleamed with hope.

“Do you wear a jersey every day?”

“Not everyday. Sometimes I wear a hoodie when it’s cold.” Tom joked to hide the fact the he was disappointed. He thought you were going to ask him something deeper.

“Hm.” You folded your lips together and nodded as you eyed his jersey.

“Are you making fun of my attire? Because I can see penny loafers in your closet right now.” Tom said as he pointed to the open closet behind you.

“Don’t judge me.” You playfully gasped. “They’re comfortable.“

“So are jerseys.”

“How is this comfortable? It’s full of holes.” You pointed out as you tugged on his shirt. Your hands slid down a little and landed right on his bicep.

“Sorry.” You laughed nervously and took your hands away.

“It’s okay. You can touch if you want.” He said and flexed his muscles for you. You sucked in a short breath and put your hand back on his bicep. You gave it a squeeze and felt your mouth go dry.

“This is the most cliche thing I’ve ever taken part of.” You said as you continued to feel his muscle.

“Me too.” He laughed. “But I’m kinda into it.”

“Do you want to touch my arm?” You asked in your beta seductive voice. You pushed your cardigan off one shoulder to expose your arm, gasping ostentatiously as you did it. Tom laughed at your antics before jumping in with his own.

“Are you sure? It’s a little soon.” Tom played along and looked around for who might be listening.

“Shut up.” You playfully shoved him.

“You shut up.” He shoved you right back. He shoved a little too hard and you almost fell off the bed. He quickly caught you by the arms and pulled you closer to himself as you both laughed. When your laughter died down, you leaned in to kiss him again. You cupped his face with your hands this time and softly stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. When you pulled away, you kept his face between your hands.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Is it about my cargo shorts?”

“No.” You laughed. “What are we? Like what do you think of us as?”

“Oh.” He smirked. “This conversation.“

“I know.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m just curious what you’re thinking. I mean, you walk me to and from class everyday. We talk on the phone all the time. We make out on the occasion. What does that make us?”

“What do you want it to make us?” Tom asked, just as nervous about this conversation as you were.

“What do you want it to make us?”

“I have an answer.” Tom told you. “But I’m worried that it’s not the same as your answer so I don’t want to say it.”

“That’s why I don’t want to say my answer.” You laughed and pointed to yourself.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll be the brave one here.” He sighed sarcastically and held up his hands.

“Okay. Do it.” You challenged him. Tom took both your hands in his and gave them a squeeze.

“My darling.” He began. “If it’s cool with you, would you do me the honor of going steady with me?”

You broke into a grin when you heard the way he phrased the question. He could’ve just asked you to be his girlfriend, but that wasn’t good enough. He had to remind you that he was the good listener you thought of him as.

“That’s cool with me.” You nodded and rested your forehead against his again.

“Cool.” He smiled shyly but was reeling with excitement on the inside. You sighed happily and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

“Cool.”

Tag List 🏷

@scenesofobx @martinaityte @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @spideyywife @white-wolf1940 @freakofmusic25 @comfortablemelancholy @beautifullmelodyxx

@ebureon @d0jascatt @yeswhatever33 @daydreamingchaos713 @parker-2 @lowkey-holland @imobsessedzs @lnmp89 @namoreno @gloriuspurposee @angelreyesisdaddy04 @ilovefrogs1000 @allthisfortommy @adrienette715 @open-minded-chip-101 @spideyyhoe @wondergal2001 @letsmeetintheafterglow @fangirling-galore @ziggyspurplehaze @gayyvodka6 @belovedholland @thegardenofdeath-and-dreams @ciarahollands @hungryyeyes @simppond @eloquentree @ihatefoil

[absolutepokemontrash]

Hi! So, I absolutely love your series where the MC is the kid of Lucifer, and I was wondering if I could request that with Diavolo and Barbatos? •v•

:0 you definitely can! Right now I’m just doing Diavolo, but Barb’s will be up sometime soon!

MC is Half Demon and Oh Shit They’re Diavolo’s Kid-

Diavolo wasn’t exactly what one would expect of the prince of Hell, I mean, he was suppressing the urge to bounce in his seat from pure excitement. I mean, his exchange program was starting! Humans, demons, and angels, all together, his dream was coming true.

All that was left was for the student to arrive, the portal opened, and the human fell flat on their back. Oof, maybe Diavolo should have set up some kind of landing zone filled with pillows. No matter! The human was-

…

What peculiar eyes this human had…

Oh… oh dear…

Dad-volo

The MC was his child, no question about it. This was… very unexpected. Well, the entire assembly hall was completely quiet, and the kid looked like they were getting impatient.

“HEY! Mind telling me what the hell is going on?!”

After that, Diavolo launches into his explanation, also the explanation that he’s definitely this kid’s dad. Kid was not impressed, they tried to square up with Diavolo and Lucifer had never been more confused as to what to do.

Well, the moment MC sprouted wings and launched themselves at Diavolo, Dia caught them with one hand and continued speaking like nothing happened.

MC, please calm down… Diavolo didn’t know they existed, let him make it up to them! They’re going to stay at the Demon Lord’s Castle! Dia’s going to be a good dad!

“This feels like the plot to the world’s most messed up fairytale.” MC jammed their hands into their pockets and grumbled. “I get sucked into hell and find out I’m royalty there. Great.”

Diavolo managed to smile and awkwardly reach out to give them a pat on the head, then retracted his hand after the kid shot him a glare. “Well, it’s not a very traditional fairytale, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“Mm, sure.” MC mumbled.

Okay, so his child wasn’t that enthusiastic about the exchange program, but Diavolo was sure they’d come around.

Dia tried everything he could possibly think of to get his kid to both like him and enjoy their time as an exchange student. A lot of things had… mixed results.

Also, legally recognizing MC as his child and legitimizing them caused a big stink amongst the nobles who were opposed to the exchange program to begin with. So MC then had to deal with a few assassins. Wonderful. Fantastic. Show stopping. Dia, be a good dad and comfort your angsty murder target- I MEAN preteen.

They do manage to build a good relationship fairly quickly despite their less than stellar first impressions, and Diavolo made them a promise that he knew he wouldn’t ever break: he would let them live as normal a childhood as possible.

This means that MC gets to do all the normal kid stuff that Diavolo wasn’t allowed to do. It honestly works out great for everyone. MC gets to live their life, Diavolo gets the satisfaction of knowing that his kid’s having fun, and Barbatos doesn’t need to worry about MC causing chaos in the castle.

Man… does this kid’s magic potential scare the shit out of everyone though…

Tired Uncle Lucifer

No. This has to be a violation of his worker rights. It cannot be legal for him to be this stressed.

He knew this exchange program was a bad idea. LUCIFER FUCKING KNEW IT. This kid was judging him. Why did he suddenly feel self conscious about every single one of his features? This child was picking him apart and they hadn’t even said anything!

He confiscated Asmo’s phone immediately, this was a matter of national security! Satan’s too! Beel as- oh shit Lucifer may have to give Beel the heimlich maneuver, then take his phone.

When all the brothers eventually got back to the HOL, they were greeted with Mammon getting shaken down by Levi.

“Lucifer! Ya won’t believe this! Levi- what’s wrong with you?” “The exchange student is Diavolo’s child.” “What..?” “*pops the cork off a bottle of Demonus* the exchange student’s Diavolo’s child.”

The worst part about this kid was that they took to the privileges of being royalty like a fish to water. MC went out and did whatever the fuck they wanted, and Lucifer needed to make sure a state of national emergency wasn’t called just because MC picked a fight at RAD.

It didn’t help that MC was just so unimpressed with Lucifer. Anytime Lucifer would tell them not to do something they would just raise their eyebrows and challenge his authority without saying a word.

What the fuck.jpg

The things he does for his prince boyfriend…

Cool Uncle Mammon

Huh, so this little pipsqueak is Lord Diavolo‘s kid? Hm, do ya think they’d let him into the royal treasury? No? Okay… lame.

Mammon then decides this kid would be just perfect for scamming people! Who is going to say no to the Crown Prince’s kid? A suicidal person, that’s who!

And the kid is… up for it? Wow, Mammon didn’t even have to grovel! Awesome!

It’s such a shame that Lucifer came in and promptly removed MC from Mammon’s presence. Tsk, killjoy…

Mammon and MC do get along swimmingly after MC stops angsting. Whenever they hang out it’s pure chaos.

And they would have gotten away with it too- wait, they do get away with it. Because who’s going to question the Crown Prince’s kid? >:)

Reclusive Uncle Leviathan

Levi was in the middle of throttling Mammon for his money back when Lucifer burst through the door looking like he had spent over 1000 Grimm on a gacha game only to not get the card he wanted.

And where was that human he said would be staying with them? Huh? The human’s HUH????!!!!

… wack. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped out on that Student Council Meeting…

Either way, ew, new person he needed to talk to. NO THANKS. Well, no thanks until MC started to visit the HOL to hang out with Mammon. Of course those two normies decided to bug him. OF COURSE.

Levi finally snapped when MC loudly proclaimed that they could totally beat Levi in Mario Kart. Haha, NO. Levi challenged the little runt to a 1 v 1 race on Rainbow Road.

Kid lost. Obviously. Rainbow Road is rigged.

Honestly, kid’s alright. Still a total normie, but not completely terrible.

Cat Uncle Satan

Huh, a half human child of the soon to be demon king, how very interesting.

Oh, and just look at Lucifer’s face. :D priceless. Satan wished he was fast enough to get his DDD out to snap a picture, but he wasn’t able to…

But back to MC, oh how very intriguing. How much power do they have in comparison to Diavolo? Will using that power rip their fragile little body apart? Would they learn to control it? Satan was just dying to find out.

His feelings on the child themselves were mixed at best. They were clearly unhappy with the situation and Satan could sympathize, being thrust into a completely new world and then being told you can’t leave and are also royalty? That has to be hard. But this kid was still being an unreasonable little shit.

Satan continued to try and study MC from afar until the kid themselves walked right up to him and half demanded half pleaded for his help in studying for a test.

Not being one to avoid an opportunity to flex how smart he is, Satan agreed to help out. (Nerrrrd)

And honestly, it went well. When the kid wasn’t being a little shit, they were actually quite pleasant to be around.

Overly Affectionate Uncle Asmo

…wut

Listen, when Asmo asked Lucifer to pick a cute human, he didn’t mean cute as in CHILD.

This kid was DIAVOLO’S?! What lucky human had gotten to have the experience of [Jesus Fucking Christ, Asmo I’m not writing what he said for the sake of the nation]

Anyhoo~ little MC just made his heart go “SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SO CUTE!” They were so cute Asmo could just eat them up!

But they were so mean! That scowl they always had on was going to give them wrinkles and ruin their perfectly cute face!

Sigh, oh well. He can’t manually rearrange people’s expressions. What he can do is take this child shopping. Poor Diavolo was constantly in his RAD uniform, this poor innocent baby shouldn’t have to suffer the same fate.

The kid continued to scowl at everything, but at the same time, their little quips were very entertaining. This little kid spitting verbal venom at anyone who displeased them reminded Asmo of someone… he just couldn’t place who, but they definitely had amazing hair and a cute face :3

Hungry Uncle Beel

Where’s the takeout- I mean human? What’s happening? …are all humans this small? Dang, that’s barely enough for a snack.

So the human’s not going to live with us because they’re not fully human and Diavolo’s kid? Huh. Wild. Anyway, what’s for dinner?

Beel’s not too invested in this drama, he misses Belphie too much to be that interested…

The kid’s weirdly interested in how cool and strong Beel is though. MC tails him to the gym pretty often.

Diavolo and Beel already being gym buddies send tweet-

Since this benevolent little shit likes Beel so much, they decided to take it upon themselves to help with the family drama.

Beel finds that very sweet 🥺

Murder sleepy Uncle Belphie

Oh man… if you thought Belphie was being unfair to L!MC due to their parentage… hoo boy…

When this kid waltzed up the attic steps like they ran the place, Belphie needed to hold himself back from trying to break down the door and throttle this kid.

Pff, of course Diavolo would have a half human kid. Of course.

…kid beat the shit out of him when he tried to kill them. We stan this MC.

After all is said and done, Belphie still isn’t overly fond of MC. They’re brash and rude and only funny 40% of the time. They don’t even like napping 😒

But Beel likes the little runt, so Belphie and MC put up with each other.

Bonus! Your Angelic Uncle Simeon’s Chihuahua

:0 friend!

MC: *speaks*

>:0 not friend! Begone! *throws crucifix*

[unnerving-presence]

Hi I'm the anon that has send the request about the reader killing the killers, and I loved it!

Can I ask for a part two? Where the entity takes notice of how powerful the reader is and makes them her vessel of sorts, giving them powers and whenever Killers are misbehaving, she sends the reader to..... "teach" them a "lesson"

Same Killers please if you could 🥰

Wow I am so messed up

Of course :) I resisted the urge to elaborate on the readers power but the entity basically merged with them so they have the power of the entity in a way and they’re not as sympathetic so it’s easier for them to put the killers in their place

I love this concept so much I literally have to hold back from writing too much. if you couldn’t tell i love torturing the killers lmao

warning: graphic depictions of violence and gore. this is basically just torture stuff so if you are not comfortable with it please do not read!

Part 1

༒༒༒༒༒

Kazan Yamaoka/The Oni:

As brutal as you were, Kazan never expected the Entity to make you it’s servant. He hasn’t talked to you much ever since you’ve been restricted from going into trials, so the only way he would really know about you serving the Entity is if another killer told him, or if you had to punish him yourself.

For the first time in his life, he’s actually been afraid of someone. Nobody has been able to (alone) take him down. Now seeing as someone like you can? He’s not terrified, if anything he sees you as a little badass, but he does not want to get on your bad side.

He’s never seen you punish a killer, but he has seen the aftermath. The Hillbilly, better known as Max Thompson Jr., decided that he wouldn’t listen to The Entity, decided that he’d kill the survivors the way he wanted. All of them died too quickly for The Entity to feed on their fear, and she was not pleased. Needless to say that the poor man’s cries of pain could be heard for miles, and Kazan would never forget the way Max was desperately trying to keep his organs in place as he struggled to get back to his realm. You wouldn’t even give him the sweet release of death after you were done with him..

This is nothing like when the mob attacked, not even close. This was a new type of pain, pain that makes you wish you were dead. Kazan was never one to give up so easily, but in your grasp he feels so helpless. He doesn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. He feels so vulnerable with his mask off, with his armor tossed to the side. His jaw is now broken, and his ribs feel like they’re going to snap at any second. You’ve barely started, and you’re already making him regret his actions in his last trial.

“I’m not going to kill you, but I am going to make it hurt.”

Michael Myers/The Shape:

At first, he doesn’t really seem to care that much. If he’s not the one in pain, it’s not really his problem. He still holds a bit of a grudge against you, meaning he stalks you, so he’s known since the start that you’re serving The Entity.

He’s surprised that you’ve gotten this far just from killing him, though he is a bit jealous. You don’t really scare him that much considering your small stature. If anything it’s kind of cute to him. Just a little thing like you running around and giving killers a little bonk on the head for not doing good in trials is a thought that almost makes him smirk. Of course those thoughts were before he’s seen you punish a killer. Now that he’s really seeing it in action, he understands why The Entity made you it’s servant. Though he is far from scared of you, he is a bit impressed at how the other killers feel a bit more uneasy when they see you pass by, some even fleeing to their own realms.

Michael can do almost anything he wants in The Entity’s realm without being punished. Hell, he even kills the survivors too fast for the Entity’s liking and comes back from a trial unscathed. Now with you by The Entity’s side, Michael isn’t as free as he used to be. Michael doesn’t know that however, and doesn’t really seem to care. Atleast he didn’t seem to care until he was the one in all those other killer’s shoes.

It’s been what seemed like hours and Michael looks like he’s on the verge of tears. With his own knife, you’ve managed to do quite a bit to him. His mask is removed, face terribly bruised with a nose bleed that seems like it could go on forever. He’s lost a couple fingers, and the remaining digits no longer have nails. His arms and chest are littered with large and small stab wounds alike, ones that you dig your fingers into when it seems like he hasn’t quite gotten the message that he isn’t in charge here. Michael’s vision occasionally blacks out, only to be woken up by a bash on the head with the handle of the knife. You’re not sure how much he can take, but you are sure that Michael will never forgive you for this.

Summoning a sharp tendril, you swiftly pierce it through Michael’s leg, waking him and receiving a loud grunt as he stares up at you with a tired but furious gaze.

“Wakey wakey Michael, I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Danny Johnson/Ghostface:

This man is so jealous. He was a killer way before you did anything special! Technically he does serve The Entity, but not in the way you do. Danny probably thinks you’re not all that since he’s probably still mad as shit that you embarrassed him like that.

He hears some of the killers talk about you like you’re a nightmare come true. Of course Danny calls it all bullshit and says you’re probably not as ruthless as they say you are. Honestly he just isn’t ready to accept that fact that you have more power over him than he does, and he’s not very fond of the fact that he can’t be an asshole to you anymore.

Danny has never heard nor seen you give one of the killers a lesson, but he has been given shockingly precise details on just what you can do to them. He’s never heard of a survivor having this much power over the killers. Well I guess he couldn’t call you a survivor anymore now, could he? Nonetheless he seems to forget that there are consequences for his actions, especially after a trial he didn’t do so well in.

Danny hasn’t known fear until this day. He displeased The Entity, and now he pays the price. He can no longer see, but he can feel. He can feel the way you pry his mouth open and slowly cut his tongue open. He can feel just how strong your bond is with The Entity, how much you’ve changed. His throat burns from how much he’s been yelling in agony. He coughs up blood as it travels into his lungs, making it more difficult to breathe by the second. It was already worse having you kill him in a trial when you were a survivor, now this torture?

“I love that look of despair on your face.”

Frank Morrison/The Legion:

As if you couldn’t get any scarier to him, now you’re serving The Entity. He hasn’t talked to you ever since you last saw each other so he really has no idea of what you’re doing with The Entity until somebody goes up and straight up tells him.

From what he’s recently heard, you’re now going around teaching killers not to displease The Entity? Sounds odd that all of this is happening in such a short amount of time but it doesn’t make it any less scary for him. He hates being scared, but knowing that if he tries doing things his way will get him punished makes him kind of worried as he tends to go a bit overboard in some of his trials.

His friends are lucky enough to not experience the horror of being tortured into submission, but they have been told what it feels like. He tries his best to comfort Susie and tells her that as long as she does things the way The Entity wants, she will be okay. Needless to say The Legion is very scared of you. Please go easy on them they’re only teenagers (except for Frank of course)

It was bound to happen someday. Frank got too angry at those pesky survivors and wasn’t thinking straight. Not even in a trial, he managed to kill 2 of them. He would learn soon enough that killing isn’t allowed outside of trials. The rest of The Legion are huddled up in a corner. Susie is sobbing into Joey’s chest as he slowly rubs her back, trying his best not to look at what’s going on in front of him. Julie can’t seem to look away, pure shock seeming to be the thing holding her still. Frank feels like all of his bones are on the verge of shattering. How is he even alive at this point? His organs aren’t in place, scattered across the hard wood floor, leaving a sour smell behind. The only thing keeping him up at this point is the hook that is impaled straight through his shoulder. He wants so badly to just die, but The Entity is the only thing keeping him alive at this moment. No matter how much blood you spill, it’s not over until The Entity says it’s over.

“Oh Frank, you know this is far from over..”

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[gukyi]

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly. 

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 

Another voice breaks you from your trance. 

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 

You wonder what he sees. 

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you. 

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him. 

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[aeferkssr]

hello hello!! i just found your blog and it’s so lovely :D and i think requests are open, but if im mistaken then just ignore this!! its also okay if this doesnt interest you; always write what inspires you and makes you happy <3

i was wondering if i could request small fluffy headcanons for bennett, chongyun, and xingqiu, if you write for them? where the reader has a terrible attention span and it always gets them into trouble—like tripping a lot, running into things, and forgetting stuff all the time jagejwkhsjs can be goofy crack or hurt/comfort, however you perceive this and want to write it!

thank you sm if you decide to do it! also if you take anons, could i be your pookie anon? <3

hope you’re using dark mode!!

- INATTENTIVE READER HEADCANNONS

pairing(s) ; bennet x gn!reader , chongyun x gn!reader , xingqiu x gn!reader

genre ; fluff with a little hurt/comfort

warnings ; people laughing at you (????)

a/n ; OH BOY OH BOY I SAW TIS REQUEST AND I ACTUALLY JUMPED FOR JOY I RELATE TO THIS SO MUCH LIKE MY ATTENTION SPAN FOR LITERALLY ANYTHING IM NOT HYPERFIXATING ON IS IN THE NEGATIVES. so sorry if this would be a bit self-indulgent cause its mostly going off my personal experiences! also i wrote this in a modern au!! OH YEHA ofc ourse you can be the pookie anon!! HIII POOKIE ANON!!!

“bad luck? wow that must suck.” you say as bennett rubs his head abd agrees “i find ways to manage it though! like i always carry this four-leaf clover resin keychain with me!!” “ooo, did you find the clover yourself?” you asked. “yeah actually! but the next day i broke both my arms…” “!!???”

after the encounter you two had you guys started getting closer, you started to open up to him a little about how people treat you. you know, sometimes people don’t really believe you. when you say that you have a horrible memory simply because you don’t pay attention, people start to look down on you. saying that ‘how you would of done so much better at this if you would just focus’. and even when you try to write everything down in a notepad you forget about the notepad within a week! school isnt any easier either, its mainly about memorizing different formulas and answers and random thing that you’ll never be interested in, and therefore will pay it no mind.

after the encounter you two had you guys started getting closer, you started to open up to him a little about how people treat you. you know, sometimes people don’t really believe you. when you say that you have a horrible memory simply because you don’t pay attention, people start to look down on you. saying that ‘how you would of done so much better at this if you would just focus’. and even when you try to write everything down in a notepad you forget about the notepad within a week! school isnt any easier either, its mainly about memorizing different formulas and answers and random thing that you’ll never be interested in, and therefore will pay it no mind.

even thhough bennet couldn’t relate to your problem, he sure could relate to the mistreatment from others. people say that his bad luck spreads like wildfire, even if you make eye contact with him you’ll have a full day of non-stop bad luck. he has just learnt to live with the rumours and try his best to ignore them, but he can’t let it slide this time now that you’re hurt

he tries to comfort you in the best way he can, also providing advice on how you could remember things better, like writing it down on your palm with your finger three times and swallowing it or even bringing a pen in your school bag at all times so you can write down things you need to do on your skin. overall hes really good at making you feel appreciated and even forgived for not responding well.

CHONGYUN - FROZEN ARDOR

chongyun has been your closest friend for years now. ever since you were in kindergarten you two have been looking out for eachother. chongyun was there to make sure that you don’t constantly hurt yourself while you’re there for him when he needs to cool down.

you see, chongyun here is very sensitive to the sun. a simple five minute walk home and his face could be beet red eith heat. so yoyr job was to constantly make sure he had a normal bodh temperature! well, normal im chongyun standards simce hes also a little colder than the normal human being. what can you say? hes just that cool!

since you two have always been there for each other, you know what makes the person themselves! you knoe what makes them happy, you know whom they have a certain attraction to (or the strong urge to show a not-so friendly finger) and what makes them tick. so its no secret that you know what the other dislikes as well.

you really dislike people laughing at you. there’s something about people finding joy in your embarassing moments that makes you want to put yorself six feet under. it doesn’t help at all eith the fact that you just walked face first onto a pole doesntly help it at all.

crying out of embarrassment, while chongyun starts to shoo away the crowd, he gently cuops your face and runs his thumbs along your cheek as he tries ro calm down your silent sobs.

XINGQIU - JUVENILE GALANT

to be completely honest, i think he was one of the ones yeasinf youabout you innatentiveness. but when he found out that he was actually really hurting your feelings he stopped amd gave you a formal apology.

xingqiu was always a teacher’s favourite, probably cause he was sticking rich!! but then again he was also a good student who participated in class and gave in his homework on time, while you were the opposite. you would always be off in your little headspace and teacher would hate that you’re not paying attention

definitely calling out your name really loud to startle you back inti reality before they ask you a question that you definitely don’t know the answer to. then another lecture about how you should be paying attention amd how whatever grade you get here in class depends on your future, something that you should be worried about.

simce you and xingqiu got closer from his apology, you ended up ranting to him about how you wish you could remember something whithout drilling it into your brain 24/7. xingqiu did some reasearch about it and asked more questions about your inattentivity.

if its something that recently came about, he would ask about your sleep schedule. if it’s not the recommended hours of sleep be would say to try and go to bed earlier or even taking melatonin to calm your body. if its something you always had, you should try out different methods of remembering things like either writing it down on yoyr phone and setting it as your lock screen or even on your phone case. you really did appreciate the help he was giving you as the both of you saw it as an apology for his misbehavior earlier.

[toastedkiwi]

Professor

Summary: newly transferred to your husband’s school, you’ve already made some friends. However, they don’t know that you’re married to the hot professor.

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Student!Reader, Wife!Reader

You had transferred to your husband’s university that he works at a couple weeks ago. You even managed to get into one of his advanced classes. He’s pretty proud of you and he loves seeing you sitting next to this redhead whose become one of your friends. You aren’t the greatest at making friends and he’s very happy that you found someone other than his friends. His are complete maniacs and you’re the youngest in the group. You had just turned 21 and Bucky’s 30. His friends are all around the same age or older.

You met Bucky when you were just 19. Your ex best friend dragged you to a club you didn’t want to go to and weren’t legally allowed in. She made you wear a tight dress and heels. She straight up left you at the club after ten minutes of meeting a guy and insulting you. This guy grabbed your ass which made things worse. He tried taking you home but this blue eyed man swooped in while his buddy Sam just flirts so hard with the guy while Maria, his now wife, watches from a foot away.

“There’s a party tonight,” Natasha said as the two of you sit down. “Wanna come?”

“Can’t. Got a hot date tonight,” you said knowing that Bucky overheard you as he starts writing on the white board.

“With who?” She asked.

“This guy named Luka. He’s really sweet,” you said.

Bucky smirks knowing you and him are going to have a fun time picking up after the 6 month old tonight. You and him have planned to have a nice movie night in with Luka and Alpine the cat. He honestly cannot wait. It’s the highlight of his week and he always looks forward to it.

“Does he go here?” Natasha asked.

“No, he’s actually a New York firefighter,” you said since the six month old loves the plastic helmet that his Uncle Sam got him.

“Damn, what are you even doing here when you could be with the firefighter right now?!” Wanda asked from a row behind.

“I sadly cannot fail this class,” you said.

“If only Professor Barnes—,” Natasha said glaring daggers at the back of your husband’s head.

“Glaring at me won’t change the F you got your freshmen year, Ms. Romanoff,” Bucky said loud enough for everyone in the lecture room.

“You could’ve given me a C!” Natasha sassed back.

He spins around and said pointing at her, “you didn’t show up to class. Don’t be a bad influence on the transfer student.”

Natasha scoffs crossing her arms over her chest while you giggled. Bucky obviously flashed a smile at you and you grinned wider. The two redheads quickly noticed at how fast he favors you. Bucky easily starts class as the last student sits down.

~~

“You should be careful. Professor Barnes is married,” Wanda said as you, her, and Natasha walk through the campus courtyard.

“I know,” you said and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t even try with that DEMON of a human being,” Natasha warned. “He’s absolutely terrible.”

“You’re just mad that you have to retake this class,” Wanda said. “Also, Y/n has a hot firefighter boyfriend.”

“I’m pretty sure Professor Barnes is not that bad,” you said.

“Awww, you’re so innocent,” Natasha mocked.

You rolled your eyes thinking if she only knew. You haven’t said anything about being married to the professor to anyone except the university’s dean of students. You just want a pretty normal college life besides the fact that you’re married and have a kid with a man nine years older than you.

“Ignore her,” Wanda said. “But we’ll see ya next class.”

“Bye,” you said splitting from the two.

You head straight to the parking lot where Bucky parks his precious Audi Rs7. You try opening the passenger door but you forgot to get the keys from your husband. He usually gives you them as you make sure to be the last to leave and so he can kiss you without watchful eyes but Nat and Wanda got you to leave before you got the car keys.

Twenty minutes later, your husband comes with the keys spinning on his finger and his briefcase. He gives you a cheeky smile.

“You can drive, dollface,” Bucky said tossing you the keys.

You catch them and unlock the car. You go to the trunk with Bucky. You open it up. You put in your backpack and he puts in his briefcase. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips.

“Oh, I called the jewelers before my first class,” Bucky said as you both went to your separate sides.

“What did they say?” You asked.

“Your ring will be done tomorrow and we can pick it up,” he said with a smile.

You grinned and got into the car. Bucky slides in and closes his door. You close yours and adjust your seat. You both buckle in. You start the car.

“I liked how you used our son as your excuse to not go to a frat party,” he said.

“He’s a great excuse. I would’ve said you but I don’t know how Nat would react to me being married to the professor she hates most,” you said backing out of the parking space.

Bucky chuckles pulling out his phone and said, “she’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know about that, James,” you said biting your lower lip.

“Don’t worry, babydoll. She’s a pain in my ass but she’ll stick around you,” Bucky said as you drive off. “Wanda will too. If not, you’re stuck with me and the boys.”

“Oh Jesus,” you said.

~~~next week

You carry Luka into the lecture room and you’re the first one in besides Bucky. Luka is not feeling too great and you couldn’t leave him at the daycare. Bucky left in an Uber before you due to two of his classes starting before your two of the day. Luckily, you got Bucky’s class first and know that he’ll let his little man into the class without hesitation. It’s quite a perk to be married to your professor.

“Hey..,” Bucky said and he’s immediately concerned seeing Luka in your arms.

“They wouldn’t let him into daycare,” you said softly. “He’s got a cold.”

Bucky takes his whimpering boy out of your arms holding him against his chest. He rubs his back.

“Why don’t you sit up in front today with my little man?” Bucky suggested. “You’d be closer to the door.”

“That was my plan,” you said quietly. “Are you staying longer today?”

“Nah, I don’t need to but I can take Bubba back to my office until you finish up your class with Banner,” Bucky said. “So that we can all go home together.”

“Fine by me. I brought extra clothes and tons of diapers in case as well as formula,” you said.

“Alright, I’ll let you go sit down with Lu,” Bucky said.

He tries giving you Luka back but he just cries. Bucky holds him back against his chest. He cooed at his little one.

“I brought the carrier,” you said smirking.

“You better pull it out, darling,” he said.

Soon enough, Luka is strapped to Bucky’s chest, you got your kiss from your husband, and you’ve planted yourself at the end of the first row. You’ve pulled out your notebook and pens, highlighters, and mechanical pencils. You took out your phone and get a picture of Bucky with Luka. Your backpack along with the diaper bag is under table.

Classmates start coming in. Wanda and Natasha stroll in as well.

“Who’s baby did you steal?” Natasha asked as Bucky is writing on the board.

“First of all, that’s kidnapping and I have better morals than that,” Bucky said looking at the two redheads. “Secondly, why steal a baby when I can make my own with my wife?”

“Oh my god, disgusting!” Natasha said racing up the stairs in the middle to her regular spot.

You laughed along with others in the room. Wanda goes up the set of stairs nearest the door and slides into the swivel chair next to you.

“That’s sparkly,” Wanda said pointing to the ring on your ring finger.

“I know,” you said grinning.

“When’s the big day?” She asked.

“Why are you sitting over there?!” Natasha asked.

“It’s near the nearest exit,” you said.

Natasha groans and picks her stuff back up. She heads over to the two of you and sits next to Wanda.

“So, When is the big day?” Wanda asked.

“Already? You’re so young and innocent,” Natasha said.

“Ladies,” Bucky said sarcastically. “I’d like to start my class unless you have more pressing matters.”

“Sorry, Professor,” you said and he gives you smile.

“Alright, I have a special guest with me, my son Luka. He’s just six months old if you’re curious and no, I didn’t steal him,” Bucky said to the class. “Hopefully, we’ll get through the lesson with little to no disturbances from him.”

Natasha and Wanda turned to you immediately as your husband proceeds with the lesson. You ignore their looks even though you find it quite amusing.

Once the class gets dismissed, you take your time packing up. Wanda and Natasha sit and turn to you. Bucky comes over without hesitation. There’s no point in hiding it any longer.

“Do you have the diaper bag?” Bucky asked. “Luka took a shit and I’m scared it’s the explosive one.”

“Yeah, I got it,” you said standing up putting your backpack on and grabbing the diaper bag.

“Seriously? This whole time?” Natasha asked.

Bucky takes the diaper bag and said, “yeah.”

He gives you a quick kiss before heading off.

“Wow,” Wanda said.

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

howard stern

I'M BACK BESTIES!!!!! i'm not totally back to my normal writing, but I finally got through a whole piece! anyways I really liked this and i hope you do too :)

warnings: howard stern being a bitch, talk of weight & body image

word count: 2.1k

"Hello Harry, how are you doing today?"

"I'm well, thank you," Harry answered with a smile. He was on the Howard Stern Show, his first interview since Stevie had been born. He hadn't really wanted to; Howard was kind of a prick. Everyone knew this, but Jeff was convinced this was the right move. He said it would be good for Harry to get back into the swing of things, and no one else was available on short notice. In the end, Harry only agreed because you had pushed him to, reminding him it wouldn't be a very long interview and then he wouldn't have to interact with the abrasive man again for a long time.

"That's good to hear," Howard said. "How have you been these past couple months? Have you been getting anything done?"

"Not much that's music related, honestly," Harry laughed. "I've been busy with family things."

"Yeah, you've kind of been hiding away from the world for a while here, what's that about?"

"Well, as I'm sure you already know, my wonderful wife had a baby recently, so I've been pretty busy... just navigating the world of fatherhood." A smile crept onto his face at the mention of Stevie.

"That's a lot, isn't it? Babies are awful at that age," Howard chuckled.

"Uh- I wouldn't say awful," Harry's smile dropped a little and he sighed internally. He already knew how the rest of this interview would go: thinly veiled insults, questions that were way too personal, and having to pretend he didn't want to get up and walk out of the room. But he knew that wouldn't be a very good look for him, so he gritted his teeth and tried to think of happy things. Specifically, the fact that he would get to go home to his wife and baby in less than two hours. "She's a very sweet baby, we're completely in love with her."

"Yeah, sometimes they're cute, but mostly they just cry and wake you up in the night, don't they?" Howard asked smugly, as if he knew Harry's baby better than Harry did.

"Well, of course she wakes up in the night sometimes. She's hungry, can't blame her for wanting food, can I?" Harry asked, trying to speak lightly and with a smile, but he could feel his patience slipping. He was ready to go home and he was not in the mood to pretend to be happy when this man was clearly insulting his child.

"Sure, I just wish babies could be a bit less annoying when they want something."

Harry nodded, plastering a smile that hopefully looked real on his face.

"So, besides the annoying baby, how's the family? Everybody healthy over there?"

Harry nodded. "Everybody's happy and healthy. A little sleep deprived, of course, but we're managing well, i think. And by we, I mean Y/N. She's truly... just amazing. I have no idea how she does it- she's the one keeping everything together. There's no way I could do any of this without her."

"Yeah, she seems pretty great! I remember though, at first we were all a little uncertain about her. She's not exactly like the other women you have a history with, is she?"

"She's-" Harry started talking, but Howard cut him off.

"I just mean, we were used to seeing you with models and actresses and the like, so it was a bit of a shock to see you with one of us commoners, you know?"

Harry huffed a small laugh, still trying to sound polite. "When you love someone, that's all that matters."

"Right, of course, but don't you get bored sometimes? You stopped going out so much when you got with her, almost like she was keeping you captive or something," He laughed.

"Are you asking me if my wife forced me to stop hanging out with my friends?" Harry squinted at the man.

"No, of course not, but..." He leaned closer with a malicious gleam in his eye, like he was about to hear some big secret. "Did she?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "She did not."

"Okay, okay, if you say so," Howard put his hands up, but then he leaned in again and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. "Blink twice if you need help."

Harry played it off with a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's good," Howard laughed loudly. "Anyways, let's move on. Since you two are supposedly so happy-" He paused again, as if he expected Harry to cut it and give some dramatic confession about how terrible his relationship was behind closed doors. Harry only raised his eyebrows, signaling him to continue talking. "Tell us about that. When did you two get married again?"

"Almost 2 years ago," Harry said with a smile. "Our anniversary is coming up, actually, it's in 3 weeks."

"Oh wow, you guys moved fast with the whole kid thing, huh?"

Harry nodded. "We both knew we wanted kids and were ready to have them, so... yeah."

"Yeah, no point wasting time, right? How was Y/N after having the baby- Stevie, right?"

"Yeah, her name is Stevie," Harry smiled. "She was good. Again, she's amazing for going through that. She's- i'm just so lucky to have her."

"Did she bounce back right away?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry's brow furrowed.

"You know, did she get her figure back fast? I know that's a big issue for some women," He laughed again.

"Are you-" All traces of Harry's smile were gone now.

"I just mean, I hope she's working to get rid of the baby weight," Howard said casually, as if his words weren't extremely rude. "Just to make sure she can fit into her old clothes!"

Harry cleared his throat. He knew he had to speak very carefully, since this was something you had been very self conscious about. "Well, the two of us are concerned with the new life she brought into the world, not some old clothes, but she looks as beautiful as ever. The amount of pressure women face to live up to certain standards is disgusting to me, and it's especially bad for new mothers. My wife just went through an incredible process, she grew an entire human being in 9 months, then went through labor and the delivery, and she's being told to worry about her figure? That's wrong."

"Right, right, of course," Howard smiled, but Harry could tell he was annoyed at how he couldn't be tricked into speaking badly about his wife.

"I'm really over the whole thing, honestly," Harry said. "And I'm not even the one going through it."

Howard laughed nervously, seeming to finally take the hint that Harry was uncomfortable and annoyed with the topic. "Let's talk about your latest movie, why don't we?"

Harry was closed off through the rest of the interview; anyone could see that. He laughed less, his arms stayed crossed, and his answers were short. He was professional, but it went no farther than that. There was no more playful joking or easy conversation, just Harry trying to get through the interview as fast as he could. When it finally came to a close after his final song, Harry couldn't pack up fast enough. He made sure to say a polite thanks and goodbye before he hurried out to his car.

He sighed deeply before picking up his phone to call you.

"Hi baby!" your happy voice came from the other end. That was good, he assumed that meant you hadn't listened to the interview yet.

"Hi love," he smiled, his mood already improving just from hearing your voice. "Did you listen to the interview?"

"I have been- I couldn't right at the beginning, Stevie was crying, but I caught the end. Why?"

"Why was she crying?" Harry ignored your question, instantly worrying about his baby.

"Sometimes babies cry for no reason, Harry. She's okay, I promise. Anyways, what's up with the interview?"

Harry sighed. "Just the normal for a Howard Stern interview- he asked some very personal and rude questions. Just prepare for that."

"What else is new?" You laughed. "Are you coming right home?"

"Yeah, unless you need anything?"

"Nope, I think I'm good. See you soon!"

"Love you, bye," Harry said, ending the call and starting the car to begin the drive home.

-----

"I'm home," Harry called, removing his coat as he walked in the door.

"We're in here," you responded, not moving from your spot on the couch where you were nursing Stevie.

Harry walked in, a small smile on his face as he looked at the two of you.

"Hi," He sighed, plopping down on the couch next to you.

"That bad, huh?" You asked, taking in his dejected tone.

He hummed in response, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Those interviews are... always something."

"Yeah, I only caught the end, but you sounded pretty upset. What did he say?"

"He just..." Harry shook his head. "I don't think you should listen to it."

You turned your head to look at him. "Why not?"

"He's just very rude and pushy, as always."

"Yeah, i figured, but I wanted to hear your songs," you argued with a small frown. "Did he say something really bad, or...?"

"He just makes some very impolite comments about you and our family."

"Oh," You nodded lightly. "I think I'll be okay, baby. I appreciate you trying to protect my feelings, but I'm used to it at this point, and I really couldn't care less about his opinion of me."

"Alright," he sighed. "If you're sure." He pulled out his phone, checking his email and going through some messages while you started the interview from the beginning. You could hear him grumbling under his breath and huffing every time Howard said something rude, but you ignored it, just laying a hand on his leg to calm him down.

By the time it was over, Harry was clearly not too happy. "I can't believe I went back on that show," he shook his head. "I'm never doing that again. I'm so sorry about what he said about you, I honestly should have just left-"

"It's okay," you cut him off with a smile. "Also, it was kind of hot to hear you get mad at him."

"Yeah?" He smiled back. "I thought I was very tame, actually. I wanted to say some other things, but I figured that wouldn't be a very good look for me."

"Right, but the way you attacked him but stayed professional... very hot," you laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," He smiled, turning his head to kiss your cheek in return. "Is she done? I really need to hold her after the day I've had," He sighed dramatically, throwing his head back.

"I'm sure," you laughed, handing Stevie over to him and pulling your shirt back into place. "She's all yours."

"Hi baby," he cooed, holding her close to his chest. "I missed you so much."

Stevie yawned in response, cuddling into him.

"Oh, you missed me too?" He grinned. "See that? She missed me."

"She did," You agreed. "She was looking around when she heard your voice on the interview, she wanted to know where you were."

"I'm sorry," he pouted down at her. "I'll never go away again, and I'll never let the bad man be mean to you again."

"I don't think she's too upset about it, Harry," you laughed. "She is only 3 months old. She didn't exactly understand anything that went on."

"Excuse me," he said, looking very offended. "She may only be 3 months old, but she's very smart."

"Right, she's a genius baby, how could I forget?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head at Stevie. "How could she forget how smart you are, hmm?"

Stevie yawned again, stretching her arms above her head.

"She's ready to take a nap," you said.

"Can I just hold her? I know it's not a good habit, to let her be held to sleep, but I don't want to put her down yet," Harry said, looking up with such pleading eyes, you couldn't possibly say no. Not like you would have said no anyways, but he didn't need to know that.

"Of course you can," you stood up, kissing his forehead before you turned away. "I'm gonna do the dishes, then we can watch something if you want."

"No, let me do those," he immediately protested.

"Harry, it's okay, I haven't done anything around the house since she was born-"

"And I'm not about to let you start now," he cut you off. "Come back here, please? Let's start that new show we were looking at the other night."

"Fine, but later I'm going to help you with the dishes."

"Fine," he smiled, agreeing with your compromise, even though you both knew he would argue later. "Now come back here."